One day I know we'll meet again
WHO: Trowa Barton and the Major
WHERE: A small island somewhere in the North Pacific.
WHEN: Wednesday, July 20th.
WARNINGS: Violence.
SUMMARY: Over the past two years the Major's evil has hurt Trowa again and again. Accidentally discovering that the maniac has his own secret base again while supposedly dead or in an asylum is more than he can stand. Cue hellbent one-man assault.
FORMAT: Paragraph
There was probably a rich, interesting history behind how this desolate spit of rock had come to have an abandoned military base on it, and the Major didn't care to hear any of it. None of that mattered. What mattered was that he had a base again! A base with troops! Not the hole he had slowly carved beneath the City, not the pitiful collection of neo-Fascist imbeciles he had made do with for so long. This was a steel-and-concrete fortress, standing tall and proud above the crashing waves! Radar dishes and antennae reached upwards to the cold gray sky alongside missile batteries and anti-air guns. Drilled, trained, professional, his Dolvanian soldiers marched about, conducting their duties with impeccable precision, completing the base's restoration to full operational activity.
Of course, nothing on the island or in any of its people would ever suffice to incriminate the Major's new patrons. He and they had been very careful in coming to this mutually beneficial arrangement. And what an arrangement it was! No more piecing plans together with hired supervillains and stolen airships. No longer would his reach be limited to the City! At long last, he could make the world his battlefield, as he had always wanted. And in return, he would make Dolvania a power to be reckoned with.
Sitting in his command room, the Major smiled at the ugly clouds on his screens, their glare reflecting off his glasses. It was going to be such a beautiful day, he could tell. In fact, he was pretty sure that a storm was coming!
WHERE: A small island somewhere in the North Pacific.
WHEN: Wednesday, July 20th.
WARNINGS: Violence.
SUMMARY: Over the past two years the Major's evil has hurt Trowa again and again. Accidentally discovering that the maniac has his own secret base again while supposedly dead or in an asylum is more than he can stand. Cue hellbent one-man assault.
FORMAT: Paragraph
There was probably a rich, interesting history behind how this desolate spit of rock had come to have an abandoned military base on it, and the Major didn't care to hear any of it. None of that mattered. What mattered was that he had a base again! A base with troops! Not the hole he had slowly carved beneath the City, not the pitiful collection of neo-Fascist imbeciles he had made do with for so long. This was a steel-and-concrete fortress, standing tall and proud above the crashing waves! Radar dishes and antennae reached upwards to the cold gray sky alongside missile batteries and anti-air guns. Drilled, trained, professional, his Dolvanian soldiers marched about, conducting their duties with impeccable precision, completing the base's restoration to full operational activity.
Of course, nothing on the island or in any of its people would ever suffice to incriminate the Major's new patrons. He and they had been very careful in coming to this mutually beneficial arrangement. And what an arrangement it was! No more piecing plans together with hired supervillains and stolen airships. No longer would his reach be limited to the City! At long last, he could make the world his battlefield, as he had always wanted. And in return, he would make Dolvania a power to be reckoned with.
Sitting in his command room, the Major smiled at the ugly clouds on his screens, their glare reflecting off his glasses. It was going to be such a beautiful day, he could tell. In fact, he was pretty sure that a storm was coming!