Summary: An evil terror has come to plague the capital. With no one able to use their arms, who is left to stop it?!
Chapter 6: What Conrad Saw in the Mirror
The horrible drilling machine tore up the courtyard, spraying dirt all over the screaming, crying citizens. They ran, arms dangling uselessly at their sides.
"What are we going to do?!" yelled Yuuri.
"I don't know. Thanks to you, we can't use our arms!" Wolfram grunted angrily.
Abelone stood upon his giant drill. He pressed a button and from the side of his machine protruded a long tube. It was a dirt cannon. He began to spray it, covering everything, and everyone, with dirt. And not the awesome-smelling it-just-rained dirt, either. This was the dirt that had accumulated over four thousand years from ancient horse poop, which released a smell that only Murata could truly understand.
"Yuuri, you must go into Maou-mode, it's the only way," said Wolfram.
"I won't be able to use my arms then either! It's hopeless!"
"Muahahahaha! I, Abelone, with my evil plan, will evilly take over this establishment to enact my evil order! My first evil act? To force everyone to use their arms! Ahaahhahahahahaha!"
"Actually, that doesn't sound half bad," muttered Wolfram.
"YIPPEE-KI-YAY, MOTHERCHUCKERS!"
"What… what was that?" asked Yuuri.
"THAT'S RIGHT, BEND OVER AND TAKE IT. DIE LIKE PIGS, AND I'LL MAKE BACON FROM YOUR ENTRAILS!"
And from the sky, surrounded by a glorious beam of light, came the most heinous-looking machine known to demon or man. Helicopter blades spun on top as it descended from the clouds, gaudy bright lights flashing in a circular fashion. Its two gigantic claws pinched menacingly, and from inside of it one could here loud and dramatic weeping.
"It's the Harbinger-Of-Doom-Master-10,000!" cried Yuuri.
"So it is," replied Anissina. Everyone looked at her.
"Wait, if you're here, then who is controlling that thing?"
"It appears that my invention has gained sentience. Interesting."
"Interesting?! It will kill us all!" And the people fled in terror. Yuuri could see Gunter inside of one of the pods, crying and pathetically cycling his heart out. In the other pod sat Gwendal, glowering and shooting angry looks at the central area of the machine.
"Gunter and Gwendal are in there! We have to save them!" As Yuuri cried this, the front of the machine began to open, rising menacingly. Everyone shielded their eyes to avoid whatever terror lay within…
"I'm going into Maou-mode!" Yurri took a deep breath.
"Don't bother, your majesty! I got it covered!" came a voice, projected ten times louder than it ever should be.
And from inside the machine, Conrad Weller stood up. He was wearing sunglasses, and his shirt was conspicuously missing. His muscles glistened in the sun, as did the cigarette dangling from his mouth. And in his arms, which were distinctly no longer missing, there was a huge motherfucking machine gun.
"TAKE THIS, ASSWIPES!" And Conrad thusly let loose with the machine gun, pelting his enemies with ammunition. The claws opened and closed, tossing bombs on Abelone and company. Conrad threw down a grenade for good measure. It was bloody carnage.
"Curses!" hissed the evil Abelone, "I have been foiled by… that, whatever the hell that is."
The abominable crab machine landed on the ground with a thud. Conrad sat back down in the captain's chair and began directing the monstrosity with his feet, all while wielding the machine gun to eradicate every last enemy before him. In the end, only Abelone remained.
"Conrart Weller, my old nemesis…" he growled from the seat of his machine.
"Nemesis? Who the hell are you?" asked Conrad.
"I'm your nemesis! You know! We've been fighting each other for years!"
"I've never seen you before, ever." Conrad crossed his arms.
"Uh… well… I've been hoping we could, you know, become nemeses, if you don't already have one."
"Get in line, buddy! Everyone wants to take me on. It is not happening!"
"In that case, prepare to die, Sir Weller!" Abelone cackled and pointed the drill straight at the man he wanted to be the nemesis of.
Unfortunately, drills aren't made for speed. Conrad quickly grabbed his trusty otter-gun.
"No, not the otter-gun!" gasped Abelone.
"Time to die, dickweed!" Conrad fired the gun. An otter hit Abelone square in the face.
"Owww!"
"Yeah, so, take that!" said Conrad.
"Is that all it does? Hit me in the face?"
"Well, the gun, yeah. What the otter wants to do is up to it."
"Hahaha! Do you think an otter could defeat me, the mighty Abelone?" and it was then that Abelone truly realized the direness of the situation. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. The otter swallowed him whole.
"It was otterly stupid of your mother to name you that," Conrad said, crossing his sexy, beefy arms.
Everyone cheered!
"You saved the day, Conrad!" said Yuuri.
"Yeah, but he broke the law!" Wolfram yelled.
Everyone grew angry!
"Hey, that's right! Conrad used his arms! That's not fair."
Conrad waved his arms indignantly.
"Come on! I'm Conrad Weller! I never obey the law, and you guys are always giving me a pass! Do you know exactly how many times I've committed treason or disobeyed orders? Like a hundred and seventeen. Are you really going to start punishing me now?"
Wolfram scratched his head. Conrad had a point.
"Of course not, Conrad," Yuuri smiled. "You're perfect in everything you do."
"So what say we repeal this law and get everyone's arms back?"
Yuuri ran up to his office and wrote an illegible counter-law repealing the first one. Soon afterwards, everyone was sitting in the war room, flexing their muscles.
"Hey, Conrad, how did you get your arms back, anyway?" asked Yuuri.
Conrad smiled charmingly. "Well, you're never going to believe this… really, you'll think it's so funny…"
He looked around the room sheepishly.
"You see, I had my arms the whole time. I just forgot to put them in the armholes of my jacket!"
Everyone sat with their jaws gaped open.
"Isn't that hilarious!?"
Then Conrad spent the next week in prison. But you know, I think he learned an important lesson. I think everyone did. When you are a badass, dashing and murdering half-demon who has the leader of the richest and most powerful country in the palm of your hand, you can just hire people to put your shirt on for you. They don't teach such important lessons in school. So suffice to say, nobody's time was wasted in this story by Conrad's actions, nor were the writers' in writing it or the readers' in reading it.
Right?
Right.
And that's all I have to say about that.