Men of L33t, Part XXXIV
Dropping Bombs like Brits


KABABOOM!

"Oh, Ed, my ears- mmy eaaars!"

"What happened, soldier?" A strong hand stuck out to help the poor bishounen, his ears bleeding like twin fountains.

"He- he blew in the wall with a foul word!"

"He what? Who? Soldier, are you-?" The bish suddenly screamed and latched onto his commander's collar.

"There he is! RUN! Hide! Save yourself! Oh my Ed, they're walking this way!" He screamed again and ran down the hallway foaming like a madman. The Commander stared after him, wondering what in the seven hells of whipped cream and chocolate syrup was going on, when he was absorbed by a very large cherry dacquerie.

"Tha's it, lass, suck 'em up! Onward!!" A large Scott ran forward, urging his creation along as several other large haggis-beasts passed him. Between them, Knivemen skittered, crawling down the walls and ceilings like spiders. Or rather, like the joy with which a mongoose would hunt with if he had a spider's powers and was hunting wall-cobras. Floors above them, the Axemen bled through legion after legion of bishies. They splattered across the battlements like smashed pomegranites, and it really wasn't a sight meant for children under the age of seventeen.

As if that wasn't enough, the commander of the 102nd was incensed that his company was left behind whilst the 34th Monster was roaming the hallways searching for enemies, and had taken to forking large obscenities on into the castle walls. It was the first fork-based graffiti ever seen in written history, and probably the last given how hard Accounting came down on Commander McDavish for Blatant and Massive Excessive Abuse of Highly-Valued Projectile Stores.

This was the mad and chaotic scene that Largo, Lightsider, and McFinnigan came upon when they finally arrived. The Bishounen had all but been destroyed and routed, and the castle was being wrecked apart piece by piece. But then came a large explosion. It entirely vaporized the castle's 7th tower, throwing Scots everywhere. At first, it didn't really phase them- they flipped back onto their feet and rushed straight back in with their voices screaming viciously. But then, there was one of those awful moments when everyone shuts up and stares, and the deep trombones cut in. Thousands upon thousands of flying carpets rose out of the tower's ashes, red as blood and shielded by that purple haze. And facing them all, standing still in the air, without so much as a single twitch- was Dom.

He stared at them with his arms crossed, his cloak fluttering quietly in the wind. All was silent.

"D'eny of yoo remembair aeny o' 'our men goin' inta that tower and commin' back out agaen?" whispered a coarse voice.

Dom smirked, and flashed forwards.

Then the battle began.

* * *

Piro flexed magically for the last time. His power rippled out tight, controlled. He smiled grimily. I'm ready. He concentrated carefully, touching the weave that bound his cell with just the gentlest nudge. The black thorns cringed and tried to get away, but Piro was adamant and weave gave in. He smiled, and whipped backwards in a smooth motion. The weave unraveled without even realizing what had happened. Piro smiled again, and touched the lock on his cell. It unlatched itself and the door opened. Piro gathered up his things, and stepped outside the cell.

"So you haven't left already. I must admit I was curious." Piro froze, and turned around. His gaze darkened.

"You."

Miho smiled demurely. "Yes, me. You have been a busy boy, Piro." She sat hovering in the air, sipping on a cup of tea. Shadow and Zeth stood behind her like statues. The ancient lions of Babylon, guarding their mistress.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? Why, silly boy, you, Piro. You have great talent."

"Well, I want none of you!" Piro said angrily. He tossed his coat over his shoulder and turned around.

"A pity. I could offer you the world." He kept walking. Shadow stepped forward. "And Kimiko."

Piro stopped. He paused for what seemed like ages, and then slowly turned around.

"You don't have her." he said, eying them warily.

"Well, no," said Miho, "But she's still an outlaw now. You hardly think that she'll adapt to it like you did, now do you? Swinging from vine to vine, village to village, country to country, always in danger. It's hardly a life for the poor girl. And sooner or later she will slip up, and then you will be mourning her death."

"And how would you propose to save her?" Piro growled. "An Imperial Pardon?"

Miho laughed softly. "Oh, no, no, no." She took a sip of her tea. "I was thinking perhaps a bit larger than that. Taking the Four Kingdoms, for instance."

Piro went cold.

"What?"

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