It was a normal day in Quincy, the Gunners were walking around, doing their thing, unaware of the doom approaching their fortress, their home. One of the men climbed atop the buildings, hands on his hips and a sigh of satisfaction escaped him. It had been a good day, a day of murder, mayhem and looting. What more could a man want? He fingered a little pouch of caps dangling from belt, satisfied with today’s haul. Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture had started softly playing in the distance from some old radio a scavenger managed to get working. Oh, it was an excellent day.
And then, it happened. A giant, flash of blue light from behind him. The Overture started to pick up, tension ran through the man’s body as he, slowly, turned his head back to face the disturbance, already reaching for his rifle.
Looming over him was the grand machine, capitalism made metal and physical. Lights flickered over his body, the Overture now playing from the robot’s own head, it was reaching that moment. That point when you knew things were going to get ugly for someone.
Drawing his rifle, the Gunner’s entire body shook as he aimed towards Liberty Prime’s head. The music became quieter, slowing down as it almost reached the main event. It stopped, leaving a deafening silence in the air but then started again, which almost gave the man a heartattack. It was getting faster, and faster; he was starting to sweat and shake uncontrollably as the machine just stared at him. Other Gunners were rushing to his side, bringing all the firepower that they could carry. Almost everyone in the base was ready, aimed to fire everything they had at Capitalism itself. No one fired, they were all waiting for this thing to do anything. It stood there, watching them, looking down on them, as the music continued to play for minutes which seemed to take an eternity to pass. 12, long minutes of tense Tchaikovsky.
Then it reached the main event, the part everyone knows when they hear this fantastic piece of music, and it all went wrong for them.
“FEEL THE MIGHT OF DEMOCRACY, COMMUNISTS!”
Replacing cannons, was the sound of mini nukes exploding! Volleys of lasers cut down Gunners where they stood as Lady Liberty taught them what happens when you piss off Capitalism!
The Employer was waving his hands, as if he were the conductor, as the second of mini nukes began their voyage towards the poor sods trying to recover from the last wave. It was a grand entrance and the Overture was nearing its end. The crescendo was here, and it was a glorious sight!
Such excitement had to be ruined, however. The Employer’s eye caught sight of a singular entity climbing up the roof behind Prime, carrying what appeared to be… a FatMan. The Gunner’s target was simple to figure out: those hundreds of mini nukes handing from Prime’s back. Employer’s heart sank as the Overture reached its finale and he could do nothing to stop it. Obviously the Gunner was out of his mind, since a shot with a FatMan at such close proximity – and the target being a seeimgly endless supply of nuclear warheads – would take out everything. God damn Gunners.
“Ugh, this’ll set me back a few months… I hate Quincy.”
The Employer’s last words as Tchaikovsky finished and most of Quincy was vaporized less than a second later. All that remained in the new crater was the head of Liberty Prime, and a few other scraps from its body. It was still functional, somehow. And as it was being teleported back to the Employer’s base, Liberty exclaimed, heroically:
“CAPITALISM PREVAILS AGAIN! FREEDOM FOR ALL AMERICANS!”