Prologue: Time Travel

It was a rising dawn as Osama bin Laden looked out of his window, composed of air surrounded by a wooden frame, which matched the interior of his dirt house. He had slept in eternal rest for a billion years at this point, equating to 2027 when placed in traditional A.D. It was throughout this time frame that he learned about the advancements of Earth.

Many strange and new technologies had formed since his demise, such as the cloning machine, the world peace-inator, and most important of all: The Breaklunchner. But, he also had his eyes set on a time machine. He stroked his two foot beard intensely as he thought about the idea; going back in time to not only blow up the towers, but obliterate New York, which would collapse the entirety of Europe.

Osama had never considered the idea even when he had his hands on one. He just threw it away because he was dead. That was, of course, before he came to an important realization: He needed to go back in time as it would revive his spirit, and thus, his body. He would merge with his younger self but keep all the present memories. That was the key!

Nothing in life was that easy. Through hard searching, he found one in a lab. He brought it home the next day, replacing it with a cardboard copy, much to the confusion of the American engineers. What he was ready to do next was find the right time. It would be a time that rolled in soon, as Osama sat on his couch, browsing through the various movies gifted to him by Disney+.

One peculiar title stood out among the others: Turning Red. What a name! Would there be bloodshed, like he had inflicted upon thousands during his glory days? He watched the whole movie and fell in love with it. Within the week, he had not only ordered an assortment of Asian products he couldn't read the labels of, not only bought all the merchandise for that movie, but also ordered his very own fursuit, that being the Arabian oryx, the national animal of a bunch of countries he couldn't care any less about.

What joy! Osama felt young again, his spirit ready to go back in time and take a new form. He flew using his ghostly powers, right into the time machine. Yes, he would go back to 1997… But wait, there was a dart in his plan. What kind of army could I get? Osama thought, thinking with his beard.

He did a ghostly shuffle to a phonebook, flipping past 997 pages until an ad caught his attention. "Terminator - Planet Dorbee." A planet, they say? What kind of foreign planet would not have an army? He used his nokia to give them a ring, which they picked up after the second try. While there was no video option, he could still hear the voice of an angry goat creature.

"Leader Goat of the Dorbee Empire. Who is calling?" the other side asked, the voice distorted through the phone line.

"It is I, Osama bin Laden, the spirit of the Middle East. I am here to inquire about a potential army I could use. I saw your planet's name in the spiritual phone book and assumed you might have an army for rent," Osama explained, hoping that his heavy accent would not disturb the goat. Or, worse, that the goat didn't speak Middle Eastern.

"Hm. Very interesting. I shall inform my units of the rental department," a paw was placed on the phone as the goat continued to speak, but in shouts, "HEY! WHO HERE KNOWS IF THE RENTAL ARMY IS FOR RENT?!"

There was a reply in the following silence, then the return of the goat on the speaker. "I have an army available next year."

"Next year?!" Osama shouted. "Is this something I can abuse time for?!"

"Nope. We Dorbees value our armies, so much so that we are immune to the qualms of time travel. Now, do you want the earliest opening or not? I have stuff to do."

Talks of the army filled Osama bin Laden's tiny dirt house, and before long, he had agreed to wait one whole year before sending in the army. It would be wise of him to sit in that empty little home, watching his violent endeavors again and again on the already worn VHS tapes, but he couldn't. He simply could not.

His spirit resided in the Middle East, where no one was going to find him, but there was a plan he could use. An ancient Middle Eastian tale foretold of the coming of several dictators: Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, Mao Zedong, Benito Mussolini, and Kim Il Sung. They were dead but their spirits reside in purgatory in the country of their death, forever roaming with no idea of where to hide.

Each dictator was a part of a pentagon known as "The Furious Five Guys"; they were five guys who were furious, most notably Hitler. Combined, they would prove unstoppable, as not only were they fighters who could channel magic, but they were proficient in Necromancy.

If Osama could find their spirits and revive them, then he stands a chance at raising a powerful army of the dead. They would be floating around in Russia, Germany, China, Italy, and Korea. Alas, the spirit realm is slow to change, and as such, North and South Korea were simply Korea. Locating each dictator would take up the whole year for sure, if not more. And, with an army of intergalactic Dorbees, searching for the remaining dictators' souls would be easy.

Which dictator should he start with? Hitler is the famous one, but perhaps too powerful. He would be the last dictator revived. Kim Il Sung seemed promising; he is so forgotten that he, unlike Mao Zedong, does not appear in any Civilization game. This would take a trip to Korea, not just in the North portion, but also in the South.

In preparation, he fitted himself in his fursuit, and Osama considered himself ready. The fate of the universe would be determined exactly one year from that fateful day, and as he stepped into the time machine, the world began to shake…