Fan Fiction ❯ The Last Stand ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

For the last couple of months, the world had never been so uneasy; so restless and afraid. Communism had evolved, and had taken a great leap forward. The Second Tripartite Act was enabled, and with it brought a pact between Russia, China, and Iraq. Their views were of complete and utter power of the world, whence they took the world, a new government would be formed and dictatorship would reign rapid. This was the beginning of the Totalitarian Era.

No one really thought of it at first. Indeed, there were military and political precautions, but the Axis's agenda was deeply hidden. During the mobilization, each country completely formed a media blackout. With the American's out of Iraq, and not suspecting Russia, this was a feat easily acquired. But when the media was masked in China, the Americans were at the top of the boil; they sent in spy planes. Going as planned, China deliberately shot down the American planes. The hostility had begun.

Ten thousand U.S troops then were painted on the western China border, locked and loaded, objective was solely intimidation. Intimidating the Chinese though, was a costly plan. One the slopes of Mt. Everest and in the last neutral country, Nepal, hordes of Chinese bombarded the American troops. The outcome was a ghastly defeat by the Chinese.

The time for the Axis was then. The Russians, along with the Iraqis, dropped a massive, uniquely-designed EMP into America. The gargantuan electro-magnetic pulse shock-waved throughout the United States, bringing all nuclear accommodations to a halt; the country was infinitely powerless.

At the world's eleventh hour, at its darkest moment, the Axis released an enhanced hydrogen bomb into New York City; decimation would be an understatement. The world power, it had seemed, was now vulnerable and weak. The Axis has broken the shell off the mighty beast, now they would venture deep inside its belly… The next operation was set in play; the Invasion of Los Angeles.

Which is where my story begins, it is the story of a world gone mad, a world which irrefutably mirrors our own. It is the story of a select few who wish to stand up against other's ideologies; it is the story of a band of people to fight when everything seems to be crushing upon them…

***

Dusty shafts of sunlight graced my unconscious eyes, and I awoke. I didn't grimace today…I had got accustomed to the sharp, stinging sensation in my back, due to the poor bedding. Poor, though, was a severe understatement.

Sadly enough, I had to time my biological clock to wake me up before the hellish sirens would waken the others. Don't ask me how I did get, maybe out of desperation, who knows. Every morning at five o'clock, I would get up, scratch my head on the bed boards on top of me, and awake to the L.A concentration camp life.

My calloused hand found my scalp and I scanned over it, feeling the fine hairs sticking out of the baldness. Taking away my hair was one of the top things I despised the Russians for doing; that and tattooing the archaic symbol of the New Axis on my left forearm. Countenance bleak, I traced my right hand's fingertips on the black biohazard symbol.

A grin stole away on my face then as I thought of the mockery this "New Axis" is, they fight for domination for the world, yet their repartee symbolizes poison and death. But I found myself realize that's the only thing they want, death. There's no other reason for this Totalitarian Era; its sole purpose is for death. This is what the world has become; a slaughterhouse, where the pigs kill the pigs…

A soft, gentle, woman's voice then arose from the left of me, "Good morning Jake…I see we've both escaped the clutches of the sirens!"

I didn't smile…nor did she.

"The meeting with Goodman, is it sill in progress?" she asked.

I fell back into my make-shift bed with the pointed springs, and sighed. I laid there for a couple of minutes, leaving her to read my face and actions.

"I see…so you're not even going to try to go with Goodman, even to try to get-

Both our bodies jumped with surprise as the sirens went off.

Our block was lucky enough to have a siren of our own, so the noises that emitted from them were closer and more direct. The sirens were like lambs, I concluded; lambs being slaughtered, the noise that comes from their throats as a last cry…a whine; a high-pitched squeal. Although, the sirens weren't just one last cry, it went on and on again, repetitive like a broken record until the Flags signaled it OK.

Groans and cries broke out in my block, the people were awoken and it was ready for today's activities.

***

The cackle of a whip pierced the strain as I gritted my teeth more and more. Salty sweat streamed down my fiercely tan face, red and blue with effort. Trying to bear the pain and weight brought down onto me, I closed my eyes and tried to push more…but I couldn't. Shock went into me as I flew back, letting the logs tumbled to and fro.

The giant room I was in fell deep with silence as wandering eyes were painted on me. Looking around frantically and gasping for sweet air, I shot back up and tried to pick up the mess of logs that I had spilled. In a frenzy of panic, I stumbled over one of the massive logs, making the large circumference of it jolting into my abdomen; taking the breath right out of me, and bringing me to my senses that Flags were encircling me.

I crunched my brow and quivered my lip…I awaited the beating.

Three red suits tackled me as I tried to get up. Following the tackle, three clubs drove into my right shoulder, then my left shoulder, then my bruised stomach.

But my memory doesn't serve me as well as that. I didn't see the Flags...no, didn't see them.

The quizzical black crow I had so dreamed of fluttered in the log room, looking for some place to perch, I suppose. Opening its opulent wings, it glided down from the rafters and dove downward, spiraling towards my bleeding eyes.

At that moment in time, a great beam of blue lightning then struck the crow. But did that crow fall down? No sir. A singular obsidian feather fell off it, and much to my surprise, it was graced onto my shaved head. An aura of blew was left onto the crow and it spiraled downward, not caring that the blue glow was consuming its body…

Finally, as the crimson substance which emanated from my eyes hit the ground, the crow (in the blink of a lightning) perched onto my right shoulder. Slow motion took me and I could sense a caring, warm smile on my lips. I tried to look at the crow but it was gone. The black figure which was so represented in my dreams then was on my left shoulder. My smile slid higher and I applauded the seeming less magician of birds. Another blue lightning struck the crow, as it appeared in front of me, penetrating my view. Another singular obsidian feather left its chest, and the blue aura then burst into an explosion. That explosion destroyed the crow, and the aftermath of blue aura and black feathers was a small blue ball. In a dramatic drum roll, the ball was sent barreling in my direction. My smile lifted and I found my mouth open violently. Horror and shock grasped me as the blue crackle of a ball was sent into my mouth. Blackness consumed me.

***

I awoke to darkness, utter and complete darkness. My body trembled with pain. But what hurt the most was inside. Tears surged into me and swelled on the outside, they streamed down my face and I tasted them upon my tongue. I cried for a long time…about how America went down…about how the New Axis was winning, about everything. I hunkered down into a ball and clasped onto my knees and sobbed. Though the only thing I didn't do was give the Russians the pleasures of hearing me cry; I bit on my lip and let the tears reign rapid.

Then, as if struck with revelation, my mind cleared, the tears stopped; Goodman's plans, I remembered them. Yes, I would look at them; see what he was actually up to, I would see if I could help…revolution may be afoot.

Light cut through the void as my eyes were blinded by the supposed door being opened. I shielded my eyes with my arms and waited another of the Flag's beatings. I heard light foot steps and could see the black outline of a large man…

A strong, dark, and deep Russian voice then broke the silence, "Do you know why we put you Americans into these camps?"

It was an obvious rhetorical question, but I shook my head nonetheless. Somehow this figure frightened me beyond apprehension.

"We are fighting the demons, so Earth, as a whole, can be graced with complete and angelic bliss," said the large, strong figure.

"Unlike Auschwitz and the others, we as Russians feel a certain decency for human life, so I will let you go. But mind you, if you ever have another of these "accidents" to slow down production of war, I will have no more mercy to shed to you."

The Russian moved his face inward, closer to me, and out of the shadows. After his demeanor was shone to me, I was taken back a half a step in fright. He had the widest and sickest grin I had ever seen… After that encounter, the mysterious Russian exited and a couple of Flag's came to escort me to the Block.

***

"He's meeting you at lunch today. Be ready."

First blurry, the woman's face was the first thing I saw the next morning.

Again, my bleak countenance didn't change. I suppose it never would as long I was in here. I nodded to the woman peering at me and got up just in time for the sirens.

Blaring and monotonous, it was nothing new, and I mellowed them out; thinking of the crow I had just dreamt about. The dream was ever-persistent…it was always the same scenario, the same place, time, atmosphere, everything.

The sign said "No Death Crows Allowed", but the crow flew into the barren, dead desert nonetheless. His flight soared high into the mountains which were stabbed into the death bowl: it's sole Creator. The crow soared high into the sky; the sky was fuming oranges and pinks, reds and blues, peaches and browns, each individual explosion like a firework. The beam of cobalt lightning then came and struck the crow. The one feather cascaded downward onto my nude head. The remaining aura of blue left from the lightning then was formed into a thriving liquid ball; which was then thrown into my throat, all in its screaming anguish.

Snapping out of reminiscing, I followed the woman to work, her tantalizing stare seducing me…

And work we did in the log room. This time I made a point of using my full potential, using my full thrash of strength to push the logs onto the assembly line. Strenuous would be a euphemism. Nevertheless, the first shift of work was completed at two o'clock, like every day for the past month. We then were herded out of the log room, and out into the day's heat.

The sky was deathly pale, with its cumulous clouds puffing up with strange, remote colors. The ground beneath us was sodden from the yesterday's rain, and the workforce trampled out of the log room sloshing in the thick muck. The main courtyard of the facility was ripe with the freshness of the green grass; all the color I had seen, symbolically and physically…

The Flags lined us up in the grass, with their brass buttons gleaming in the revealing sun. Two hundred or so strong, the lines went forward and back of me, each with the bleak faces I had so accustomed to.

The head Flag then spoke with a lesser and the lesser gave the orders to another, and so forth, until I could see all of the Flags nodding in agreement. I stared off into the void… At least, I tried to. A gunshot cackled into the dreary day, sending an echo deep within the facility. Nevertheless, I continued to look forward, tears swelling up. A woman's cries then bathed the silence. Another gunshot followed. For about ten minutes the lot stood there, looking at the head Flag, in all of his glory. A tear went down my face, and then we were sent to lunch.

***

Sitting at a rotting wooden bench with plates nailed down onto the make-shift tables, I ate my bread with spices, and washed it down with the water from the near-by river; which I once had to collect. None of us really shared any palaver, we had nothing really to say, and when we did say something, usually there were more than one pair of ears…and people here would do anything to get out, even betraying their fellow Americans.

As I drank the glass of river water, my eyes wandered far off into the cafeteria. His eyes were glowing blue, intensely blue. He was needle in a haystack, but he emerged vividly from everyone else, staring deep into my eyes. His flowing white hair reminded me of the waterfall which I had so frequented during my youth. His penetrating gaze told me he was not kidding, this was no joke.

I ate the last of my bread and got up from the rusted bench and trailed my way towards the old man named Goodman.

As I approached him, I immediately sensed a great swell of wisdom emanating off him. I stopped next to him and he turned his great head up to me, I could almost hear the nuts and bolts twisting and turning. His deep, hollow blue eyes struck me. Also, his face was lost in translation…wrinkles were being poured on him like excess skin, and the furrow of confusion when he looked at me frightened me to the soul. But then a cordial smile was planted on Goodman, and he signaled me down.

"Son! O Holy Lord! I have found you!" the old man cried out, proceeded by him wrapping his aged arms around my neck and two kisses on each check. Spellbound and stupefied, I stared at him.

But then a wink of deception hit me in the face.

I tried my best to widen my mouth and show my teeth, but all I could get out was a sharp grin. Goodman was a smart man; I didn't doubt that now. He didn't want the Flags getting wise of this.

"After the herd goes back to work, I will get you when the eyes of dark are closed." With that, Goodman waved me off and went back to his bread with spices. Arching my brow, I walked off back to my seat in the cafeteria, with three red suits trailing behind me, weary and eager for excitement.

***

Eyes half closed, the herd to the second work shift was a tiring one, and malnutrition was finally getting to me. I cocked my head at the formation of the Flags; every red suit of theirs was turned the other way, ever last one…

In that thought, an arm pulled me into a crevasse in the stonework. Falling on my back, reality slapped me in the face and I got up. I turned my bright face to Goodman, and my eyes were lit even more at the plan blueprints he held under his arms. I made a signal with my pointer finger as to say `Hold on'. My hand buried into my pockets and I quickly retrieved my notebook and pencil.

I scribbled down something quickly and I showed it to Goodman, who was indeed puzzled.

Show me the plans, Mr. Goodman. You have my full cooperation.

The old man lowered his brows and nodded slowly, understanding the situation.

"So you are mute, are you not?"

I nodded.

Goodman heaved in a sigh. He then opened his plans on the stone wall next to us. It showed the facility's blueprints; a large building the middle, another large building to the right, and another large building to the bottom left. Encircling the facility were four stationary towers.

"You see Jake; this facility isn't as highly encased with grand stone walls as one would think. The only thing stopping us from getting out of the facility's perimeters is the four guard towers, and I'm afraid they are on watch constantly, armed with sniper rifles and gatling guns. Unfortunately, these Flags are of high esteem and are talked highly of with the head Flag. There is but one chance we have to escape.

"This facility is run by electricity, is it not? And those search lights that the guard towers have are circulated by electricity, coming from within the facility. Also, the motion detected mines that are scattered beyond the facility's yards are also controlled by the power that is generated with the facility. Obviously, we need someone to sabotage the main power generator. And that, my son, is not going to be easy."

Goodman pointed to a floor in the Block, which was my portion of it, and tapped his fingers on the bathrooms.

"Suspecting a prisoner to be in the bathroom for an hour or so is the perfect cover-up. Once in the bathroom at midnight you will sneak yourself in the cabinets beneath the sink. That cabinet's floor boards are very vulnerable, and with your strength, the floor boards will have shattered in no time. Underneath the bathroom sink lies a narrow passageway down into the basement."

Goodman's aged finger trailed me along as he instructed.

"Once in the basement the generator room is not hard to find. Follow the dark, dank hallways north until you see the sign that proclaims it. Once in the generator room you should see an enormous cylinder with a barreling center that rotates rapidly. Somehow, that rotation must come to an abrupt halt. Throwing something heavy in there would do the trick; a stone or something. Now, when you toss it in there, an explosion of sparks and flame will not be rare, so shield yourself before you attempt at it.

"When this happens, there will be a piercing noise and then a low drone…until nothing. When that silence happens, the darkness will follow. Down in the basement, the darkness will be compared to a cave. There will be no light and no noise. To your right-your absolute right-is an abandoned laundry hatch. When you feel that hatch, open it up. Once open you will be able to feel brass rungs. Take this make-shift ladder all the way up until moonlight can be bathed on you.

"Once you are up, I will meet you there, and we will escape out the front door."

My head bent down in deep thought…I was blown away by the simplicity of this. But one thought alone stuck in my mind. I wrote down another thing on another piece of paper.

What about the girl?

Goodman smiled a cordial, warm look up to me and said softly, "When we get out of this, we are going to come back and free these people. Free these people before the crematoriums are up. All in due time…"

And that was that. We would take the initiative…we would take the offensive.

***

A luminous lightning bolt shattered into the distance, the bright white echoed onto the scene of the lined up prisoners. Ominous dark, dark clouds gathered above us, drenching the lot of us with absolute rain; somewhat the tainted distortion of the madness that was amidst.

The beads of rain fell upon me constantly; the splashes ever-persistently raining down onto my face, soaking my skin…my fist-clenching cold skin. I bit my lower lip again and closed my eyes, shaking not because of the cold.

Another gunshot cackled out into the distance, and a thud soon followed.

"This is beginning to be sad," the head Flag muttered, starting his speech softly, "Will not one person come forth and admit to scheming plans to overthrow this most glorious of God's houses? Will not one person admit to stealing the blueprints of this facility? And where in the Lord's name is Mr. Goodman?"

His voice was bitter and metallic, ringing above the noises of the rain and the thunder. A tense moment then ensued; a deviant pause in the Flag's authority. The red suit trailed along the lines of the workers, arms behind his back, looking eerily patient.

A couple of minutes passed by, minutes seeming less like hours dragging long. At that moment, I saw the Flag's face flash with anger; his lip flared upward, and his brows crunched downward.

"Fine then! You shall die!"

Another gunshot cackled…and the same thud followed. The ferocity in the Flag's voice was astounding. Was this a dream? Was it all just a delusion? Was the phantasmagoria of death and suffering just made up?

The answer rung in my head repetitively; it was no dream; it was an all too factual reality that consumed the very soul of me.

Two women in front of me then broke out in tears, collapsing onto the ground and covering their faces. In a swell of sadness, three other women collapsed onto the ground, shaking and holding their selves.

Get up you idiots! GET UP! I thought angrily. My breathing intensified.

Their fates were signed.

Five gunshots burst out into the raining day and we were herded back onto the Block, wearing my bleak countenance like I had seen Death itself…and it took the wind right out of me…

***

"So you talked to him?" the woman said, sprawled out on her make-shift bed gazing dreamily up, her slender body propped so it waved with her curves.

I turned on my left side and looked at her. I couldn't help the feeling that came afterward, the one of lust and eagerness. My heart raced as I watched her chest roll with ever breath. I smiled as she looked into my eyes, and I nodded.

"Then…you are going tonight then?" She bit her lower lip apprehensively and I nodded once again, this time closing my eyes after.

This was not the end I had so longed wished for. If I didn't come back for her, all would be lost. I took out my notebook from my shirt pocket and wrote down something before tearing it out. Once again, I stared into her exquisite eyes, getting lost inside the beauty. Just like the aftermath of death from the courtyard, she took my breath away.

I handed her the piece of paper I had ripped out. Reading the paper with a smile, I couldn't help but get lost at her porcelain-like tan features. The emotion of lust strongly fluttered back.

She tipped to her side again and said softly, "My name is Tatiana, and I already know yours."

The name rung in my head, over and over again it was emitted; unlike a broken record it sang soothing songs in my mind. I then wrote down something in my notebook, deep in solemn thought.

If I don't come back tonight, I want you to know that you'll be the last thing I think about. The picture of your angelic face will be the last thing I lust for in this world. Just always remember, that you can make a difference. That this dark world may just turn around. Just always have hope, my love, always have hope.

-Jake

Looking at her perfect features one last time; I got up and left the scene, the grayness showing in my mood. Behind me, I could sense Tatiana bending over and reading the note. The last thing I heard before entering the bathroom was her soft voice weeping.

***

Two rusted and broken-down toilets lined the western wall, as a cracked mirror and a moldy sink lined the eastern. Underneath the yellow sink was a large cabinet, in which the pipes of it spiraled downward. Hanging over the mirror was a caged in light bulb, flickering on and off in a dim, surreal light.

I stood there for a moment, staring off, thinking about Tatiana and my objective. I raked my hand across my scalp, hoping to find my hair back; of course to no avail as a scratchy, barren surface greeted my calloused hand. As the thoughts exploded into my mind (like they always did) anger was sent in great leaps. I had to do this, I had too. I needed to make contact with the outside world, to see how far the Axis had ventured into America. I needed to see if my family was alright…

At the mention of my family, the anger was turned into rage. I clenched my hand into a fist and tightened it violently, making my right arm flex and jut out in veins.

I bit down on my teeth and opened up the cabinet. I quickly kneeled down and rested my left hand on the sink as I sent all my forced down onto the floorboards with my right hand. With a pop, the boards collapsed into itself and the pieces fell down the curved hole. I ignored the bleeding pain that emanated from my hand and slowly crept down into the cabinet, the first signs of nervousness creeping up on me.

Knees still on the bathroom floor, I gripped the robust steel pipes with both of my hands and leaned forward. Slowly, I lifted myself into the cabinet, more than aware of the twenty foot drop. Goodman didn't tell me that it would be so god damn STEEP! I thought, cursing the old man under my breath.

Fully into the cabinet, I placed one hand under the other as I began my descent to the basement, hoping to an omnipotent Creator that I didn't lost my grip or that the pipes would actually hold. I noticed something then, when the sleeves of my left arm unraveled down, it was the New Axis symbol. How much hatred poured into me then I do not know. My breathing started to increase while the flickering light completely shut off. Thankfully I could see another set of dim lights coming from the basement.

The cold, dank, and wet stone around me smelled of stench. I furrowed my nostrils and continued to climb down the pipes. The darkness was an all too familiarity of my dreams, it resembled the Death Crow in all of his obsidian glory…

My feet scathed something. I looked down and saw I was at the end of my little journey; the partial tainted light greeted my eyes. I brought my feet down hard and kicked the shaft's entrance off, sending a dull sound as it hit the ground. All confidence was brought back into me and as I let go of the steel pipe, a grin took me. I hit the basement floor hard, falling on my side. I grimaced and walked on.

***

As I walked across the barren desert, the desert that had shed so many different bleak colors, I sparkled with the mighty azure power. My full head of renewed hair had now turned erect, coursing with the dominant blue aura. The energy that the aura held was magnificent, I could fly a thousand miles in a blink of an eye, I could destroy acres of hard land in a crushing blow; I was the Omniscient One!

The opulent sign which proclaimed "No Death Crows Allowed" glowed crimson red. The stake that drove it down into the ground fed the redness with an iron goblet, the goblet was buried deep inside the earth. Somehow I knew this, and it enraged me down to the marrow of my bones. I screamed violently into the dead desert and crushed the sign, as well as the ground beneath it, going down a mile and across a mile.

The chrome goblet should've been there, but what stood in its absence was a small, black egg. With all of the browns and dark-greens of the barren desert, the blackness of the egg consumed the desert's color, washing it away with pure night.

Eye's pinned onto the egg, I sent blue lightning onto it. Infused with my power, the egg cracked and low and behold-the Death Crow. It fluttered its wings about as it took glide over me, soaring high into the night's sky.

The blue aura which encased me then was lifted and dragged in front of my sight. Then the plasma-like blueness began to rotate. Soon enough the rotation was furious, and the disordered aura had turned into the deathly ball in which I had so looked for. High out into the sky, the Crow cocked his head in my direction and stared at me with his silver eyes. I stumbled back in fear at the sight. As I stumbled, the liquid blue ball shot out with dizzying speeds and, in the blink of an eye, it found the Crow and consumed him.

The Crow then was on my shoulder, perched with a large smile. He then cocked his head and gazed with his penetrating platinum eyes.

"How are you supposed to sabotage the generator?" the Crow asked, moving his beak with the movements of human vernacular.

"I will of course throw the large cement block I see as of now and run to the laundry shoot, where I will make my escape and wait Goodman. It is flawless."

Glaring at me, the Crow shook with laughter.

"Flawless you say, Boy? Any moment now a Flag could be coming when you're lost in translation! Any moment now Goodman could be with the Flags, captured. So snap out of it you dolt, and think twice before you get lost."

And that was that.

The blackness of the void shot out of me, and reality slapped hard with its bronze knuckles.

With a frightening plunge into the spherical generator, the cement block dropped solidly into the rectangular hollow where the energy rotated. I exhaled one last mighty breath and darted out of the scene, flipping the laundry shoot's door carelessly-not forgetting the old man's advice for the absolute right-and not taking in the area around me. The one thing I knew though was that almost everything in this god forsaken place was bleak and emotionless; an apathetic personification of the world that had came to come.

Grimacing at the horrible screeching sound that came afterward, my face crinkled as I swung myself up the rungs of the ladder. Hurrying with all of my speed and power, I found my hands operating on their own, clasping each rung fiercely as it abandoned it for another. I saw the end coming quickly-the arch back onto the surface-and also examined a radiant glow coming from the window.

As the last moans of power came within the facility, I surfaced and found myself almost stumbling back into the shoot in surprise. A full moon perfectly encased the window, and it silhouetted Goodman's body with a perfect darkness; outlining his features surreally. I latched myself onto the last rung and patted him on the back with a cordial smile. After the old man reluctantly gave a smile of his own, he motioned for us to go. He was garbed in the same outfit he wore last time, but his countenance somehow seemed broken; perhaps with the thought of he was finally going to get out of the torture?

"This is it Jake. The power is off and the Flag's are in a state of confusion, we must act quickly!" the old man declared, getting the glow of confidence in his eyes again.

We strode out of the abandoned laundry room and out into the night.

A mist lurked upon us…gray fog covered the scene; it encompassed the three vast buildings and hovered like a specter. We ran out into the night, constantly watching our backs. Our footsteps mocked our heartbeat, for the heart beat furiously. So much nervousness and apprehension had not been bestowed upon me. The old man proved not to be slowing me down, in fact, his gait was much faster than my own. I hurried it up and continued; all the while we crouched down and skimmed the hollow buildings.

It was then when we saw the guard tower. It was a stone giant at night, and the spire at the top made it all the more intimidating. The couple of machine guns fastened at the top made my heart stop. It was all too comforting though that the lights were off and the noise emitting off us was minimal, if not transparent. Goodman signaled me to turn right, and I saw what he was looking at, in all of its utmost ethereal glory.

The image never seemed so beautiful; the stone archway that was the entrance to one of the L.A concentration camps. Covered in the mist it seemed holy in its gothic perseverance. No tears came to my eye, for this magnitude of happiness could only be achieved by allusion. The old man nodded his head repetitively, and the shine of moonlight illuminated his tearful face. We strode on through the entrance, exiting the camp, and proceeding onward to stop the evils of the world-once and for all.

The Last Stand