A note: This is full of esoteric guntuber jokes so unless you're caught up on the Ron Jeremy/Garand Thumb lore, or at least know of it, a major component of this mess won't be understood.
Anyways, what the fuck is editing.
"Would you like fries with that order?"
The sunken eyed, greasy haired boy asked them almost automatically from behind the counter. His lips were drawn into a thin line as his coworker beside him was being stared down by who was presumptuously their manager. His nametag read "Gadwin".
M4A1 gave a small smile. She almost felt bad, but really, it wasn't her job to worry about the fate of an indiscreet fast food worker.
What was her responsibility were the sudden, and abrupt appearance of a large, swirling portal of purple and blue miasma, at least she thought it was a portal, because eight armed men came out, walking abreast as they made for the fast food restaurant, a few of their number standing back and watching the road.
These men weren't Paradeus, but…
ST AR-15 whispered a single question to her.
"Are those Hi-Point Carbines?"
She really didn't know what kept her from drawing her weapon on the men. Openly armed men approaching her position while she knew her charge was being targeted by an expansive and dangerous organization? It was like a constant pressure at the back of her Digimind, something that told her that drawing of them would end badly… Whatever the force was, it certainly stayed ST AR-15's hand too. Maybe it was the author's bullshit-
Wait, what was she thinking? Ugh…
She sent the alert to the Commander anyway. Gentiane replied that she'd sent out the QRF, and she'd just have to sit tight.
"Brother!" the lead one boomed, swinging open the glass front door that left no surprises as to his getup. A chestrig that looked like it'd been made in a decrepit sweatshop that sold it for 20 dollars, a flannel shirt whose rolled sleeves revealed massive forearms and hands that pointed straight at… her? No, it was pointing behind her. "It is time!"
The cashier watched slack jawed, looked around, glanced over at M4, glanced behind him even, then finally back to the man who had his weapon held down by his side, with a finger pointed straight at him. "Er… you uh… you talking about me?"
"Yes. All Time Warriors must answer the call once a Ron Jeremy variant's been spotted in their area."
"You uh… got the wrong guy?"
The man's eyes narrowed, before he turned to another of his group beside him—he wore a balaclava and equipment that looked eighty years out of date, "Admin, you sure this was the right guy?"
"Yeah, Jones, have I ever been wrong before?" Admin glanced at the cashier. "What's your name, your full name?"
"G-Gadwin Halanis!" he half squeaked, half stuttered, and remaining utterly still as his eyes tracked the weapons the men so openly flaunted.
"Gadwin?" Jones raised an eyebrow. "You sure it's not like, Hadwin? Sadwin? Chadwin? I mean, that last one sounds a lot more like a name for a Time Warrior..."
"I'm sure, trust me."
"Last time I did that, Ron Jeremy escaped here."
"Pfft, don't blame me for that, we all know whose fault that was."
Clearly, these men didn't recognize her or Panagos, they had eyes for only the cashier, the young cashier with twigs for arms and who was absolutely frozen with fright. If she or ST AR-15 tried to pull anything, they would probably live, but she glanced around the rest of the crowded interior, and she knew there was a fair chance not many others would. ST AR-15 probably thought much the same.
So she stood there, hand inches away from throwing open her weapon case and revealing her namesake, because of the chance of collateral, and not because the auth- dammit, it was that pain again…
"Sir," one of the men near the glass door called. Similarly dressed, a… Desert Eagle hung from his hands. When did humans start using such exotic weapons? "They're coming."
"Fucking Ron Jeremy!" Jones growled, before reaching a hand out to his side, where he casually tore a hole in reality, reaching in, and pulling another Hi-point Carbine from that hole in reality. "Gadwin! Take this."
Gadwin yelped as he fumbled with the weapon he was tossed, "W-what am I supposed to do with this?"
"In about five seconds, you'll know what to do."
Ron Jeremy? What did… her eyes flicked to a white van that pulled up across the street from the fast food restaurant. The tinted passenger side window rolled down, the passenger himself the faceless helmet of a Paradeus Strelet, the barrel of his gun protruding just beyond the door… both her and ST AR-15 had already thrown open their weapon cases, but the van was already being riddled with bullets.
The Time Warrier—at least that was what she thought they referred to themselves as—didn't hesitate to raise their weapons against Paradeus. Everyone in the fast food restaurant, previously petrified in silent terror, threw themselves to the ground as the eight rifles barked and spat, shredding the van, almost shearing the top half of the vehicle Paradeus had driven up.
She knew ammunition technology could've been highly advanced, and make even the smallest calibre leaps and bounds more capable than it should've been… but she was almost sure that 9mm out of a Hi-Point Carbine wasn't supposed to disintegrate a van like that.
At some point, one of the unknowns pulled out an underslung grenade launcher—it looked like a pirate gun—pointed it at the stopped van, and shot once. It exploded. Violently.
One of the Paradeus soldiers—a Strelet—fell out of the back of the van, what was left of it anyways. It struggled to lift itself up from the ground, seeing as both of its arms were destroyed from the elbow down, but none of the Time Warriors fired. Instead, they watched.
Watched as he was turned into fine mist by Gadwin, who held his own Hi-Point Carbine tight against his shoulder, perfectly miming the shooting stance of the Time Warriors. She didn't really understand how a fast food cashier had expert weapons handling, and judging by the look Gadwin had as he hesitantly examined the Carbine, he didn't either.
"Ha! It didn't jam!" Admin had been watching and clapped Jones on the back. "I told you I was right!"
Jones grinned, casually leaping over the counter and startling Gadwin before placing a hand on his shoulder, "Congratulations, you must've been one of the Time Warriors who chose to get their mind wiped after service."
"W-what?"
"Yes," Admin added in a sage tone of voice, too placing a hand on Gadwin's other shoulder,. "Only Time Warriors can shoot one of our Hi-Points."
"Huh?"
Jones looked deep into his eyes, "All will be explained in time, for now, just come with us."
"Do I… do I have a choice?"
The men in the streets were still firing, but towards targets out of sight of the front windows. Admin laughed, "Did you not hear us? All Time Warriors must answer the call once a Ron Jeremy variant's been spotted in their area. I presume either they were going for you or us, but there was no way they could've reacted that fast to our arrival- oh, would you guys uh, mind putting that down?"
M4A1, while the armed men were distracted with Gadwin, had attempted to pull her, ST AR-15, and her charge quietly through the backdoor. A Time Warrior had blocked the exit and immediately raised his weapon when she came near. In response, she raised her's, ST AR-15 raised her's, and every weapon in the establishment was suddenly pointed at them.
The man who'd initially stopped them glanced at Admin, shrugged, and lowered his weapon. Every other Time Warrior did so as well. M4A1 and AR-15 kept theirs at a low ready.
"So uh, nice guns," Admin said without any hesitation. "A little retro with the Surefire Griplight but a pretty cool setup. And you!" he turned to ST AR-15, who looked back with a mixture of confusion and caution. "Oh man, those are some gucci rifles. How much do they cost? I've been thinking of expanding my modern rifle collection but money's been pretty tight."
M4A1 looked to ST AR-15
ST AR-15 looked to M4A1
"What?"
"What he means..." Jones pulled Admin behind him, much to his protest, and looked them both in the eye. "Who are you two? And who's the lady that's behind you?"
The Commander sent another message. The reinforcements were only a few minutes out.
"I'm M4A1, and she's ST AR-15," she said after a brief glance to her sister. They just needed to buy time now. "We're with GnK. And you, who barged into a fast food restaurant armed to the teeth and harassed an employee, are..?"
Jone suddenly nervously laughed, "Ah yeah, almost forgot about that. Sorry for barging into all of this. We're a interdimensional Time Warrior Joint Task Force between 420 and 69 tasked with eliminating the Ron Jeremy variant Theta 666 that's been plaguing the multiverses. We received intel that he escaped to this dimension a while back. We estimate probably for a hundred odd years. So that's why we've been sent over here, and we were just going to collect our guy over there and leave so is that clear with you two? Sorry, three? It's almost like it feels like that third one is entirely unimportant to the scene and will fade to nonexistence if she slips from the author's mind for even one second."
"I..."
She wanted to say she didn't follow any of that, but she was a T-Doll, and she followed exactly all of that. Given that they appeared out of a portal in the middle of the street, their unbelievable story grew a little more believable.
"Sir! APCs approaching from the north! Permission to engage?"
The Commander told her that reinforcements had arrived.
Her eyes widened, "Don't shoot them! They're with me. I'll tell them you're not a threat."
"Alright, one question," Jones glanced over at his men, who were setting up in the corners of the building. "Are you with Ron Jeremy?"
"...no?"
He studied her face for a second, "Shit, that's all you had to say. Alright boys, pack it up! We're done here."
She send the message over the Zener network that the Time Warrior weren't hostile. Gentiane then replied with, "Sorry, Time what?"
M4A1 said that she'd explain later.
"Sir," one of the Time Warriors in the street had dragged one of the Strelets into the shop. A nearby family screamed in terror. The Time Warrior—this one held a pirate gun grenade launcher—kicked the body as he dropped it. "One of the boys was examining the body and er… he found Ron Jeremy's fingerprints all over these guys. He's had time to entrench, sir, and deeply."
"Huh," he glanced down to the Strelet, then to the APC pulling up to the front of the fast food restaurant, and then to M4A1. "You know these guys?"
M4A1 was an elite T-Doll, and her processing power was leaps and bounds above most others, but in that moment, and just for a moment, she struggled for words, "I… yes. They're Paradeus. They've been trying to assassinate my charge, and cause a whole lot of other problems too."
"So you know them, like, alot about them."
"...yes."
Jones slowly began to nod, "Nice. You got room in those APCs?"
A few messages between her and the Dolls inside, "Not enough for all of you."
"Alright. Admin, you're riding on the top with the rest of the boys," Jones then suddenly leant over the counter, from which he hauled a yelling Gadwin who'd tried in vain to hide from the Time Warriors. "And you're coming with us. No shirking your duty."
The Time Warriors began piling out of the restaurant, met by cautious dolls who eyed them and their plethora of… exotic weapons. M4A1 followed behind, ST AR-15 and Panagos close behind, wondering just what she'd gotten into.
The APCs drove away, leaving the fast food restaurant behind, with all of its occupants entirely unharmed and bewildered at what just transpired. Except Mikar, who'd somehow knocked himself out in the chaos and dragged himself into the freezer, which was the sensible choice of course, because the freezer was the most protected place in the fast food restaurant and not a place to get cornered and die. Mikar could've become a Field Agent, shame the story's called Agent of Fields.
Because Gadwin was indeed, formerly a Time Agent of Fields, and in Mike Jones' mind, he'd become one yet again, and take the holy crusade against Ron Jeremy, and maybe even be the one to kill the original.
Meanwhile, Gadwin, Agent of Fields was screaming bloody murder, and sitting the in APC, Mike Jones casually knocked him out. He was loud.
M4A1 stared.
ST AR-15 stared.
The rest of the T-Dolls in the APC stared.
Rhodesian bush music played from outside the APC.
This is a 100% serious story with absolutely NO sarcasm or humour. Like shit, there is NO humour involved, like -100% humour dude. There definitely will be another chapter. Yep. Mhm. I'll definitely do it.
Kk leave now please.