Part 22 – POS War! Huh! What is it good for?

Driving out into public, I set my mind to the new job. I would destroy somebody’s tower, thus wrecking their Personally Owned Structure, and gaining a whole hundred million for it! What an incredible sum, able to sustain me no doubt indefinitely! I made my intentions clear.

“Citizens of…” I paused, to read the scrap of paper I kept notifying me of where I was. “HG-RM6F Street!” I shouted, not dissuaded by the difficulty of the name. “I am here forming a mighty band! The POS at HG-RM6F, Block 2, must be destroyed! Who is with me?” I cried out, ready to establish a formidable band, under the banner of my one-man corporation.

Silence. More Silence. Then cricket chirps.

“…and who is up for plentiful looting!?” I added.

Before I knew it, I had gathered a small band of young but eager followers. Of course, the quality wasn’t so good. One of them still drove his Dad’s Velator, and another was under the delusion he could be of use shooting a BB Gun out of the window of his ’76 Bestower. Still, it was my first horde. I had to get it to productive use.

Forming up a gang was a bit more of a chore. I had thought just getting a nice rabble together would do at first, but realized my inspiring leadership wouldn’t get through to them, without establishing a lengthy and overly complex organization charts with commanders, sub commanders, and so on.

I drew it up. So I'd be Grand High Marshal, and under me were two Lord Generals, and under them are two Grand Admirals, and... well. We ran out of people, but I had to put up such silly pretenses of rank and order just so they could feel good and buffed by my leadership. The discussion went on for many an hour, before we decided to start for our objective.

After I finished the long explanation to the rest of the men of exactly what dental plans being a Grand Admiral offered, we were finally on our way. Ahead was the block we were headed towards, all kings of the road. Then we saw that tower, ready to be smashed to pieces.

What I also saw was the fifty meter thick concrete wall, ten feet tall, surrounding the tower and protecting the insides of the POS. Still, it was no time for indecision despite such an obstacle. “CHAAAARGE!” I ordered with a mighty roar. There was disarray. A few charged and crashed right into the wall, while others stopped by it and stepped out, starting to bash away with claw hammers. I stepped out of my Crow, and started whacking away with a crowbar. Looking aside, I saw the others doing the same now with assorted weapons. Even the Velator driver was wielding a Civilian Heavy Tableleg against the wall.

Perhaps anticipating my mood, or the plummeting morale of the troops, someone inside the wall turned on some music for us, quite considerately. It was a medieval sounding tune, probably best listened to during a montage.

Ye Olde Tunes:

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~~~...And then days… became the weeks… and the weeks became the months, be-came-the years…~~~

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(to be continued)