North American Wastelands

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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.

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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.

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"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."

The Randoshāku were now within attacking distance and would reach the Trio in a matter of seconds. They were close enough for Damian to see what the Land Sharks truly were. The sun glistened over their metallic frames. "Manny," Damian called, "are they made of-"

"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.

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Damian assumed boxing position and waited for the Randoshāku to reach him. His enemies flailed widely as if not able to fully control their enhanced bodies. Regardless of control the Randoshāku moved just as fast as the vehicles they road in. They were practically falling over each other, all hungry and anxious for their taste. Damian stood firm, trying to anticipate which one would reach him first. "I'm definitely gonna need you for this, Manny," he thought. "I'm already on it, Commander," Emmanuel responded and in that moment Damian's bandages gained a mind of their own and unwrapped themselves from his fists. They danced around his body until finding a comfortable neutral slowly rotating around his arms. "Let's do this!" Damian yelled to his team. He chose his target and charged forward. "I'm with you, Commander," Kris sprinted forward to match his leader and carefully matched his pace. A gush of wind strong enough to knock over any normal man rushed passed our duo as the Randoshāku ships sped towards Bravo and Charlie Squads.

Damian threw a hard punch at the gut of the first Randoshāku he could get his hands on and it toppled over, clutching at where the blow struck. The Rando recovered quickly however and lunged at Damian, mouth first. Another Rando attacked from his right at the same time; the remaining two jumping towards Kristopher with mouths wide open as if they planned on eating him whole.

"MANNY!"

The bandages around Damian's arms sprang out and grabbed both Randoshāku stopping them in their tracks by hardening in their extended form. Kristopher quickly took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around his body like a cloak. The aluminum in the jacket hardened and Kris's legendary shield was complete even though it was actually Manny doing all the work. Damian crossed his arms and both Randoshāku's bodies crumpled as they smashed into each other. Kris spun his "shell" by rotating quickly underneath the cloak and his pursuers flung off on landed a few feet away from him.

Manny sighed from his plane, "the fact that you two doubt me after so many battles together makes me sad."

"We still have to figure out how to beat them so we can warn the others," Damian watched as his attackers got up, unscathed. He placed his fists together, cracking all of his knuckles. "I'm sure we just have to cut their heads off," Kris removed his cloak and wore his suit jacket normally once more. His dress shirt was a few sizes two small and his massive belly was close to bursting the buttons. "Kris, you ALWAYS suggest cutting off heads," Manny overlooked the battlefield from high above, "but this time you may actually have a point." The trio had nicknames to the rest of the army that outlined the dictionary definition of ironic. People called Kristopher "The Turtle" because of his shield technique and his weight even though he was the fastest man alive. Emmanuel was called "The Hawk" because he flew in his aluminum plane but the only reason he could overlook any battle was Kris's mind connection ability. And Damian was known as "The Snake" because of his bandages that seemed apart of him and slithered to his beckoning call but that was actually Manny's ability that controlled the aluminum. Their abilities highlighted each other's just like Damian planned when he chose his team.

"There is only one way to find out," Damian charged toward one of the Randoshāku. His bandages shot up his arm, wrapped around each other and became a lance. "This is new, Manny," Damian's eyes grew, bewildered at his new weapon. He felt Manny's smile from the plane. Damian concentrated on the Randoshāku in front of him and the world around him slowed down. He could see the Randoshāku making the decision to claw at him with it's right hand and forced the lance into it's mouth before the Randoshāku could complete the thought. Kris, hearing his commander's thoughts, yelled at Damian to duck. His shuriken flew right over Damian's head and through the Randoshāku's. "Dude," Damian threw his hands up, "cutting it kind of close don't you think?" When the Randoshāku didn't get back up Kris quickly connected to the squad leaders of Bravo, Charlie, and Delta, "today's the day we've been waiting for. You have to chop off their head to kill them. We can finally chop off heads!"

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Twenty Nine. Damian felt the cold sting of a brand new ice pack to the side of his face however the chills traveling through his nervous system had nothing to do with the ice. He sighed as he scanned over the list of names on his desk. Twenty Nine. After Alpha's Trio took out as many Randoshāku around them as they could find they doubled back to help the other squads. The "Hope" Platoon won this battle but not without casualties. Twenty Nine. Damian knew he would have to return to D.C and visit twenty nine homes and inform them that their child has died on the battlefield. He wished he could tell them it was for a good cause but he didn't know anymore. Manny and Kris bought into Giovanni's lies and loved fighting for him but they were honestly probably too damn smart, talented, and lucky to die in these wars. Twenty nine more god damn lives wasted for the mad king's war. Damian shot up, slamming his fists against the desk. He stared down at the new dent he put into it. His heart ached more and more every day he spent out in the wastelands but he knew he'd hurt more if he weren't the commander. Before he took over if half the platoon died it would be considered a good day. Out of the twenty nine only one of them was a champion. Damian looked at the other list on his desk of D.C. "royalty" that exhibited the talent to be in his army. There was one name not on the list that he wish was: Theodore Wilkins. The strongest man alive was offered a spot in Alpha but turned it down so could kiss ass in the capital. Damian didn't love the idea of war but new that an army was needed for protection and wasn't the biggest Theodore fan. If Theo was here today maybe the number of casualties would have been lower.

"Commander Marciano!" Henri Kurtis, winded as per usual, entered the tent, "a letter came for you."
"Thank you, Kurtis. You did great today. Looked like your dad out there," Damian rustled the hair of his favorite soldier.
"No, sir," Henri smiled wide and laughed just like his dad, "I'm better."
"You're excused, Henri," Damian saluted, "get some rest."

When Henri was out of the tent Damian sat in his seat and opened the letter. He immediately knew it was from the King because of the froo froo font of the words. The letter was short and to the point:

"We caught the rebel leader. Executing the tyrant in 2 days time. Need you here."

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Damian stood outside of the fishbowl where the King liked to throw his parties. He changed out of his army gear while on the plane. He adjusted his navy blue tie and stretched his arms, hearing all of the bones in his body crack and pop during the process. His suit was so dark red it looked black from afar and, by the advice of Kristopher, wore a simple white dress shirt. Kris always took it upon himself to dress his commander and friend when he had to come back to D.C. Kris called this his "subtle USA" outfit. Damian felt the army would be able to handle things without him for a bit after the last battle. The Japanese Province would need a lot of time to recover from the defeat so Manny was in charge in his absence. Honestly though, Damian felt more in danger here in the capital than on the battlefield. Damian entered the glass fishbowl clenching and releasing his fists, a nervous habit he's been failing to break.

"Well, here we go."