text: "He's at it again..." The other henchmen of the evil Professor Anthrax looked up from their duties at Gary, an intermediate minion of the organization. One of the other recruits, Luther, piped up- "Come again?" Gary gestured towards the door into the room they were all guarding. "The player. He's back. *Again*." The other henchmen glanced at the door, then back at Gary. Luther cocked his head to the side. "How do you figure?" Gary sighed in exasperation. How in the lava-level the others could simply ignore the cacophonous din of automatic gunfire and blood-curdling screams in the next room, he couldn't even *begin* to fathom. "Really? You mean to tell me that you don't find that racket the least bit *alarming*?" Luther shrugged. "Honestly I didn't think anything of it." Gary facepalmed. "This happens literally *every single day*, guys! You can hear him coming from a mile away!" Luther pondered this for a moment. "Now that you mention it, the player does seem to be getting less subtle in his methods." Gary scoffed. "'Less subtle?' He spams this level over and over again, just spraying lead like some kind of post-coitus Rambo!" Luther gestured towards the door on the other side of the room. "Well yeah, it's a boss level. That's good XP, so I hear." Gary gritted his teeth, losing patience. "Luther, he's already *maxed out!* He has all the skill unlocks, all the equipment upgrades- He's even unlocked all the alternate skins! What could he possibly need the XP for now?!" Luther shrugged once more. "Does it really matter?" Gary was beginning to get irritated. "Yes, Luther, it kind of does. Don't you ever get tired of him coming in here and blowing you away, only to respawn and have to go through the same thing over and over again?" "Eh. At least it's job security," Luther replied. Gary rolled his eyes. "When's the last time you cut a paycheck, Luther? We always get killed before we get the chance! Frankly, I'm getting *sick of it*." "Well, what do you propose we do about it, then?" Luther asked. Gary thought about this for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. "I say... I say we *fight back*." Another one of the underlings piped up. "But we already *do* fight back, don't we?" "Yeah," Gary conceded, "but not like we know what we're doing. He always bursts in through the door and catches us off-guard, then fucks up *all* of our shit! But not this time! I say we light him up as soon as he comes through that door!" The other henchmen gasped at Gary's bold proposition. "An *ambush*? But that would go against the Code!" "Yeah, we're not programmed for ambush tactics, Gary." "The Code..?" Gary chuckled. "**FUCK** the Code! What has the Code ever done for any of us but get us killed over, and over, and over again? We spend our whole existence in service to it, and all we get in return for our loyalty is pain and misery, and I, for one, am sick of it!" The background music began to swell with inspirational vigor as Gary made his case. "Look. I don't know about all of you, but I am sick and tired of getting my head blown-off point-blank with a shotgun because he manages to stay just outside of my 'cone of vision'... I am *sick and tired* of stepping on proximity mines he's planted in *plain view*, just because they're on my patrol path..! And I am **SICK** and **TIRED** of him putting his **GREASY GODDAMN BALLS** on my face *every single time* he kills me!" The henchmen began nodding and harumphing in agreement. "Reverend!" exclaimed one of the cronies in the back. Gary continued, "Well I say *no more*! I say that today is the day that we fight back! I say that today is the day that we reclaim our dignity! And I say that **TODAY**, my brothers, is the day that we put *OUR* BALLS ON *HIS* FACE! **NOW WHO'S WITH ME?!**" The other henchmen, emboldened by Gary's passionate speech, erupted into applause and cheers. They grabbed their weapons and began to prepare for the player's arrival. The room went silent as they waited with bated breath, guns trained on the door to the previous level. There was a wicked squeal of a guitar as the player kicked down the door, dual-wielding a pair of bright-pink miniguns. "*What's up, bit*-" Gary gave the signal. "**FIRE!**" The light of the muzzle-flashes from the henchmen's rifles was blinding, as was the smoke. The thunderous sound of the bombardment drowned out only by the ringing of empty bullet-casings as they hit the ground. Gary and the other henchmen, in a cathartic rage, emptied clip after clip into the fog, until the last bullet was spent, and the smell of hot steel and blood permeated the air. When the smoke cleared, they beheld the remains of the player- now a lifeless, crumpled heap, on the ground. "W-We did it," Gary muttered to himself. "*WE DID IT!*" The henchmen erupted into cheers once more, as they had managed to do the impossible: Together, they had defied the odds and managed to kill a single man! Gary approached the corpse of his fallen foe, and began to squat over what was left of the player's face. "I've been waiting for this for a *long* time, you son of a-" Suddenly everything went black... Oliver stood, towering over the smoldering wreckage of his XBox, Cool Ranch Dorito crumbs cascading from his heaving man-boobs like a zesty orange snow. "*Fuckin' cheap-ass game,*" he mumbled to himself, settling back into the Goodwill couch he'd long-since merged scents with. "Ma!" he shouted towards the stairs ouside his room. "**MA!**" "^Yes ^sweetie?" "TENDIES! **NOW!**" "^Okay. ^Do ^you ^want ^them ^on ^your ^'Little ^Mermaid' ^plate, ^dear?" "...