Damian Marciano
Damian was in his war tent hunched over a map of the North American wasteland. They were a lot closer to the Japanese Province than he would have liked but God forbid he went against a direct order from High King Giovanni. "Fucking moron is going to feed us to the Japanese," Damian has spent the last 2 hours staring at the war map trying to come up with a solution to their problem. His time, however, was just about depleted.
"Commander Marciano!" Henri Kurtis, a messenger from Bravo Squad staggered into Damian's tent, out of breath and falling over his feet. He stopped in front of Damian's desk, his entire upper body being supported by his hands that were digging trenches into his hips. He was not a day over fourteen and his red hair was frayed and in dismay. "I...have a....report," the Bravo messenger continued, taking huge gasps of air between every other word, "we saw...signs....of a Randoshāku attack." Damian's initial emotion was excitement; he has heard stories of Randoshāku but has never seen them up close. His next emotion was fear. Not for himself but for his platoon and for the same reason. The stories of Randoshāku were always told by the small percentage of survivors who clawed their way back to D.C.
"Private, are you certain?"
"100%, sir."
"Alert Charlie and Delta squads. It's time."
"Yes, sir."
Damian and Henri walked outside his tent, the hot sun beating down on their heads like they insulted its entire family. Damian shielded his eyes from the sun so he could watch Henri do his thing. "See you on the battlefield, sir." And in a matter of seconds Henri was already 60 yards away from Damian's tent. Henri could run at the top speed of human capabilities but for nearly an infinite amount of time. He was one of Damian's favorite students from his gym but they have yet to fully push his abilities to their max. "God bless that Ginger," Damian smirked and looked out onto the dry desert land until he could no longer see his student and friend.
Once the battle would start Alpha squad, where Damian preferred to command the platoon from, would move up to the front lines, with Bravo and Charlie on its flanks, and Delta squad on the rear. This would be Commander Marciano's 37th battle. He returned to his tent to gather what he would need. In this prep stage he would always start to think of his past life before the Third World War. He was 10-0 as a boxer. Combined with his winning battles he was two wins away from tying his great grandfather's boxing record of 49-0. "I'm catching up to you, old man," he sighed and wrapped aluminum infused bandages around his fists.
The American Province Platoon were positioned and ready for battle. Each squad consisted of 3 champions and 300 commoners however, under the direct request of Damian, Alpha Squad had 3 champions only and no commoners. Damian grew weary of putting men in danger for the warmongering High King's purposes. He turned to his right and smiled at his combatants for the last 17 battles.
Henri's father, Kristopher Kurtis, a short man with a fat belly and wide eyes, stared out towards the battlefield, "I have a bad feeling about this, Dame." Kristopher didn't quite look prepared for a battle. He wore a grey double breasted suit with matching shoes and a fedora that would make any person look twice, and not for a good reason.
"You've had a 'bad feeling' for the last 6 battles, Kris," Emanuel Cortes scoffed, "maybe you're losing your touch. Look somewhere in one of your chins, might be hiding in their somewhere." Emanuel sat in an aluminium propeller plane in between Dame and Kris. He rarely fought from the ground anymore.
Manny scratched at his arm, "the rash is coming back, Dame. Let's make this battle quick so we can scrape off the metal."
"We'll try our hardest down here," Damian saluted his friend as Manny took to the sky.
"We should go, too," Kris motioned for Damian to come to him.
"Words don't describe how much I hate this part."
"Come here, my Damsel," Kris's belly gyrated as he laughed a loud booming laugh.
"Why did I choose you to be on this team?" Damian walked over to Kris and was picked up in his arms like a wife being carried over the threshold.
"Because you know I'm the best," Kris began to run as fast as any man on the planet even closer to Japanese territory. Damian didn't dare open his eyes anymore during this part. He slowed his breathing and mentally prepared for what would be a legendary battle between the famous American Champion Trio and the infamous Japanese Randoshāku.
"Here they come," Manny's words sounded in Damian's and Kris's minds, "holy shit, they DO look like sharks from up here. There are at least a thousand of them, Damian." "Focus on keeping the commoners safe, Manny," Damian ordered, "Kris will alert you if I need help." The Champion Trio was a mile ahead of Bravo and Charlie and two in front of Delta. They've always been the first to engage the enemy so Kris could let the other Champions know how to fight the them. It was a great strategy...as long as none of the Trio died in the process.
What started off as a small tremor escalated until the ground beneath Damian's feet quaked uncontrollably; a scare tactic by one of Japan's Wokous. It subsided just as quickly as it came and in the horizon Damian could make out hundreds of fins racing towards him. They glided over the desert landscape effortlessly. The distance between the Trio and the Thousand Army Randoshāku was closing. Damian assumed his fighter's stance, "Kris, do it now."
"MIND CONNECT," Kris spoke and instantly all three Champions could see and feel what the other two were experiencing.
"You guys see what I'm seeing?" Emmanuel said from high in the sky.
"Unfortunately," Damian cracked his knuckles, "this battle won't be as quick as you wanted, Manny."
"No," Manny knew the question before he asked it, "sorry, Commander."
"Well, how about we quit standing around like we're waiting for the bus," Kristopher took off his hat and flung it like a frisbee at the closes incoming Randoshāku. It twirled ferociously, well as ferocious as a fedora could be, towards its target. "Manny," Kris called, "give me some love." Suddenly the aluminum fibers in the hat sprang out and became knives, the harmless hat now becoming a deadly enlarged shuriken. It connected with the fin of the head Randoshāku and tore off the top of the car causing the car to lose control and crash into another and then the ground.
"Was that racist?" Manny laughed from his plane.
"Ha, because its a Japanese shuriken?!" Kris's fat man laugh began and his tummy dance followed soon after.
"Hold," Damian ordered and the joking ceased immediately.
All three could see what their Commander was witnessing.
Four men began to climb out of the crashed Randoshāku. All four had claws instead of hands, sharp nails protruding 4-6 inches from their hands and wore no shoes, just skin tight khaki colored pants. The Randoshākus behind them all stopped and waited but Damian didn't know what for. The men opened their mouths, revealing razors for teeth, similar to sharks. Their mouths continued opening until their jaws dislocated with a loud crack, creating large gaping holes that could tear into any human easily. The four men wailed a high piercing sound as they raced toward Damian and Kris. All of the vehicles behind them roared and sprang forward as well. In that moment the Trio realized that the "Land Sharks" they heard of in the stories were not the metal cars with the fins...they were the man eating Japanese mutants that rode inside them. This wasn't the aftereffect of nuclear war, this was something else entirely.
Damian was right, "the fucking moron is going to feed us to the Japanese."
"Holy shit," the three champions all thought at the same time.