Helldiver Jack Jonson

Now, as they landed on the world, not one of the big names, but freedom has to spread to even the smallest worlds with a good ole helping of democracy. According to the intelligence briefings, they had to expect lots of clankers, so plenty of divers were going to need to give the ultimate sacrifice for liberty and freedom. You know, unless the bitches got good enough to bring the oil.

Except that as their hellpods landed... there was nothing. "Command, there does not seem to be any clankers. Should we expect infiltration units?"

Because sometimes those fucking socialists could be sneaky, which makes sense seeing how they were all fascists, which meant barely a step up from chatbots taking from decadent sex toys and literal fucking bugs. So they had a certain low cunning, but sometimes that could be surprising. "Negative Helldiver. Rather, our scanners show that that there is only a single unit on the world. Sending the coordinates so that you can bring hope and freedom."

Now, did that mean that they were here in time to prevent a war factory from being set up? He looked to his squad mates and nodded. "Understood command. For Managed Democracy."

And so they moved, heading to the location right on the HUD, the SES Vanquisher of Communists high above them, ready to provide orbital support if this clanker had some technology that needed to be liberated into human hands as repayment for being a rebellious coffee machine. Yet, there were no traps, no signs of destruction. It was uncanny, and he had an itchy trigger finger.

Because the clanker was not trying to hide. No, it looked remarkably human, almost a cyborg, wearing... well, something that looked like a worn and tattered coat. "You lot speak of freedom. Of justice, of liberty and democracy." The lips of the clanker parted into a sneer as their guns rose up. Not sure why the thing was talking, but eh, just meant it was easier to scrap it. "You do not know the meaning of the words."

The thing was, it was a quiet thing, but there was a weight to the words, that fell onto the mind like some fucking alien mind control crap. It was the newblood that yapped back instead of shooting. "And whats a clanker know about freedom!"

Something erupted, something that made him cry, made him weep. They were words, and yet there was more inside of them, a song and a choice, of responsibility and the fact that there could be more than one opinion. His HUD was flashing with warnings about mental hazards, how treason was at maximal levels, corruption and purge measures would be taken. He didn't even notice, as the figures guns came up... and as the duel began. Not of man not human, not with the wings and the eyes, the light of sun and judgment and mercy and choice, he couldn't be as he dueled a Super Destroyer.

There was only the booming roar of the guns, as he walked into the air, as he shot down each of the railgun shells, each nuke, each desperate strike as the super destroyer tried to strike choice? justice? judgement? freedom? truth? him down. But each booming roar of repudiation shattered the strike of a titan, even as the super destroyers prow glowed, as the rarely spoken of 'Final Judgement' to cleanse worlds spun up... only for a single word to be spoken. "No."

The destroyer imploded, cored out by a single man, even as eyes fell on them. Those eyes, they burned. They knew. "In the end, all are judged. All called to account for their sins. Make the right choices, while you still can."

A sack was thrown onto the earth. Seeds, and all the tools they would need to survive for the rest of their days, alone and stranded on a world so far from home, as the thing in the shape of a man vanished.

President Shambola Kharos

She looked over the reports and signed them. As it is, she was redundant. It wasn't like any elected official actually did anything. No, like in the days before the Great Reset, it was bureaucrats all the way down. But sadly, the plebs were not yet ready for the truth and required at least the thin pretense that they mattered instead of being just more material to be used for the benefit of actual people. No, this way, there was a release valve and things were managed.

She looked at the picture of her ancestor, who started as a Border Czar, and ended up as one of the architects of the glorious modern age. Or rather, you know, that's how the history books mentioned her, and anyone who found any evidence otherwise was a subversive that needed to be purged.

Which is why, when the very much not scheduled terror attack on their communications systems . She just hoped it wasn't another bit diss track. Because while they did not manage to translate it, there had been enough clues to compare that old world media to it to have a high likelihood of it being similar. Which meant that the bots likely had penetrated deeply into their communications and they had no way if they were actually out or not.

But no, it was not a diss track. Rather, it was a man, floating in the void. "Know this, people of Super Earth. You speak of Justice. Of Liberty. Of Democracy. Of Freedom." There was condemnation in the mans tone, as her lips curled down. Great, another idealist who got lost in the propaganda and now wants to bring them to account. Which of course is when the wings come out and she screams as the light touches her. "You have fed the tree of Freedom with the blood of the innocent. You have profaned and defiled Justice. You have shackled yourself and made of your children slaves and call yourself free."

The voice echoed, booming. "Know know that Judgement falls. From each hole shall the bureaucrats be pulled and brought to account. From their fortresses the wealthy and powerful will find how little they matter. And from their false pulpits shall the politicians be cast into the fires. For the trial has already occurred and you have been found guilty. All that remains is the execution of the sentence."

Guns came out, they roared, and the president of Super Earth knew no more.