Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Spamdini]

"Well that was a colossal failure," King von Toity moans as he strides down the hall with his flunkies Wilson P. Hickenbottom and Charles Artemis. "Hand it to K'unt-smak to make his spawn a thorn in my side, even from the grave!"

"The situation is salvageable, sir!" says Wilson in an attempt to dampen the ire of his peeved master. "Many of the wealthy fans who paid to watch the event from the safety of closed-circuit television believe that you threw young Guan to the dogs in order to exact revenge against his father. Nouveau-Richonia's fighting prowess comes off none the worse!"

"It's not those fat slobs that I'm worried about. I'm sure that bastard Caligula is laughing at me from his throne of gutted babies or some similar gruesome hyperbole!"

"From what I saw," Artemis interrupts, "Dwayne Guan wasn't a weakling. If you ask me, his strength was comparable to that of his father's."

"Oh? So why did his innards decorate the arena walls?!"

"I have a theory, sir," says Wilson, adjusting his glasses. "In the days of the old league, all the participants were mighty indeed! However, the pool of fighters to choose from was much smaller. Only special psychopaths or glory mongers chose to compete in that wrestling ring...er...and yourself as well, sir."

*grumble*

"In this post-apocalyptic America, it is a kill-or-be-killed world. People who might have led an ordinary life or would have become high-paying sports athletes are now becoming monsters of destruction. There are more bloodthirsty fighters out there! And the daily grind of survival is making sure only the best of these beasts live to see tomorrow! The breed of warriors in Caligula's deathmatches are far different from what we once faced."

"So," says a still annoyed von Toity, "do you have someone who can face those types of men?"

Artemis nods. "I've got a couple, King von Toity. One is a warrior from the old leagues who has been training vigorously and fighting in the wastelands of the various surrounding nations of Nouveau-Richonia. The other has recently come to our attention as a god-like figure down in Buttfuck Bayou and Pussy Central. Seems as if he was a Baptist minister there before becoming omni-strong."

The three walk into a training room under the Asteroid Star Casino. In the room is a wrestling ring and several scattered bodies lay about everywhere, each one with broken necks and backs and split skulls. In the ring is a tall, clean-cut, middle-aged black man in the clothes of a holy man. The other is a brawny, mohawked goon on his knees pleading for his life while clutching to a crucifix around his neck. The preacher places his palm upon the head of the goon and smiles.

"My son, you hold on to the power of Jesus in this time of uncertainty?"

"Y...yes sir!" the goon stammers. "M...my friends all said that God is gay and that we should rape and pillage as much as possible because we're allowed. B...but I rape and pillage because I know God would want me to! Please forgive me, father!"

"It is not my place to forgive you my son. I am not a heretic Catholic priest." The preacher then lifts the goon to his feet. "It is up to you to look into your soul and ask Our Lord to absolve you of your sins. Can you do that, my son?"

"I can! I can, reverend!"

The preacher hugs the goon. "Then go and spread the word of our lord and savior! Only Jesus can save the innocent from the bloodshed in America! Just remember two things:

"Do not use the new labels that heathens have given to their so-called territories. There is no Nouveau-Richonia, nor is there a Holy Lightning Empire! There is only the United States of America, the land chosen by God Almighty!

"And remember, it is not a sin to kill a sinner. Convert or die is his divine will! Shall you carry out his will or will you lie among the sinners?" The preacher points out the dead goons lying about the room as he asks this.

"I...I shall carry out his will!" The goon charges out the door in order to frighten and murder in the name of God. Von Toity is impressed.

"He's got the charisma to make it big. But is he going to end up getting killed as soon as he fights a real opponent?"

"Don't worry," responds a cocky voice from the shadows. "He and I have been traveling across America looking to return the light of the red, white and blue to this dark age. And believe me, there isn't much we haven't conquered in that time.

"Oh, it's you!" von Toity exclaims. "So you have made this preacher your disciple, then?"

"I am but a disciple of God!" the preacher shouts, dropping to his knees and turning his arms and face to the sky. "King von Toity, you are a false idol but I appreciate what you have invested in us in order to bring back the light of Jesus and America. I assure you, the Reverend Zeebo Sykes shall not fail you!"

"So which of you will fight in my name next?" von Toity asks the two men.

"Reverend Sykes will," the shadowed man replies. "I shall serve as his cornerman and tag partner if necessary. It's time to make way for the new generation. But if any so-called Neo-Americans try to interfere with his fights, you can count on Uncle Slam to say "I WANT YOU...TO DIE!"

[Action Hank]

AMEN!

[Spamdini]

The sound of stamping feet grows louder as all in the training room turn their attention to the door. Four similar looking men burst forth, all tall and fit with red or dark brown hair. The oldest looking of the bunch looks angrily at Reverend Sykes and turns to Artemis.

"Mr. Artemis, what the hell is this?!"

"Who would be so rude as to interrupt my discussion with my fighters?!" von Toity shouts angrily.

"They're the O'Dooley brothers, sir," Artemis replies. "Well, four of them at least. Thomas, Cecil, Ryan and Patrick, if I'm correct."

The youngest one puffs out his chest and grunts. "Pat's my twin brother. I'm Hank."

"Anyways, they're the brothers of the two O'Dooleys that we sent to the Lightning Dome to fight a few months ago with Big Billy Moneybags and the Mexican Peso as part of the New Trillionaire's Club."

"Six children, eh?" von Toity smirks. "Big family." Thomas, the eldest, gets down on one day before von Toity."

"Our father is both Catholic and a bigamist, your majesty. Also, he always had several mistresses. Last I checked, the O'Dooley gene pool in America was surpassed only the Lightning family. Of course, we've always been scrappers unlike those preening hack announcers!

"My lord, we beseech you to fix this awful mistake! We O'Dooleys have always represented Nouveau-Richonia in Caligula's arena. So why is it that you've taken a pass on us to fill the shoes that our dear departed brothers left behind? It's our right!"

Artemis smacks Thomas across the face. "Don't speak like that to your king! I'm sorry about your brothers, but you mick idiots are worthless as anything but jobbers! Your brothers got whacked cuz they were weak!"

The three other O'Dooleys are ready to rip Artemis a new one, but Thomas holds them back.

"Heh, weak you say? I hear your last pick wasn't so hot either. Maybe you just don't have an eye for talent! How about you let me fight the stupid twat you picked as your new fighter and we'll see who's better!"

Reverend Sykes, who was listening to the whole affairs in silence, finally speaks up.

"Catholic, you say? And I see a crucifix about your neck, child." He points at Ryan in reference to the crucifix. "So you are believers in the power of Christ as well?"

Ryan spits on the ground. "Shut up you dumb backwater nigger! We don't give a shit about that Jesus faggotry! Just cuz our paw didn't believe in using connies doesn't we that we don't enjoy using the five-fingered abortion!" Ryan makes a fist and shakes it around as he and his brothers share a good laugh.

"The sins of pride and wrath. It is bad enough that you boys would recognize a faulty figure such as the pope, but to murder a young innocent fetus? Most reprehensible, you fail to honor God's messenger in myself? You are beyond redemption and would be nothing but a hindrance to my cause!"

"So you gonna fight me or not?!" Thomas screams, ripping off his shirt.

"I see no reason to fight you all individually. The lot of you shall face my divine punishment at once! Come!"

The four brothers are absolutely livid at this sign of disrespect. They egg on Thomas to put Sykes in his place, and that is exactly what the eldest brother plans on doing. He jumps into the ring and unleashes a spinning leg lariat straight at the reverend!

But Sykes is no longer there! Thomas O'Dooley looks up and sees the reverend seemingly floating in the air with his arms outstretched like Jesus! Awed for a second by Sykes' mid-air prowess, he doesn't react in time to dodge the next move!

"HOLY ROLLER!"

Reverend Sykes curls his body into a ball and then he begins spinning and uses the momentum in order to crash into Thomas like a bowling ball! Thomas hits the mat with a thud and gurgles in pain. The three other O'Dooleys look on in amazement. Von Toity raises an eyebrow to show that he's impressed. Uncle Slam grins and climbs into the ring.

"Impressive, huh?" says Slam. "Reverend Sykes is so good at aerial maneuvers that they say he looks like Jesus ascending to Heaven!"

Thomas tries to get up but Sykes just DDTs him back into the mat! The other O'Dooley brothers invade the ring and all go after Reverend Sykes at once. Uncle Slam, barely even bothering to change his gaze, swings his arm so quickly that it can barely be seen! He then adjusts his hat and grins.

"Stars and Stripes Slash!"

A river of blood explodes from Hank's chest and he falls to the mat!

Cecil and Ryan strike at Reverend Sykes simultaneously, but he dodges at the last second by leaping backwards into the ropes! Using the ropes like a slingshot, he flies like an arrow straight at Cecil, headbutting him in the face! Teeth and blood scatter all over the canvas as Cecil stumbles backwards, an eye dangling from its socket! Without even touching the mat, Sykes flips through the air and lands behind Cecil. He German suplexes the O'Dooley into the ring ropes, sending him flying into the air like a catapult! Sykes jumps up after him and puts him in a pildedriver position, except with his feet under Cecil's armpits.

"Look at that!" Wilson exclaims in awe. "The O'Dooley looks like...Jesus on the cross!"

Cecil does in fact look like he has his arms attached to the cross! Except that he's upside-down. And is about to crash into the mat!

"HOLY DRIVER!"

CRUNCH!

The impact breaks Cecil's neck and his arms are crushed! He falls to the mat limp as Ryan looks on, frightened. He attempts to run away, but Zeebo Sykes catches him and jumps on his shoulders. Wrapping his legs around his neck in a chokehold, the reverend grabs Ryan by the wrists and begins pulling back on his arms for added leverage!

"Conversion chart! Will you change your heathen ways and convert to a holy life?"

"Gruhgl...I...I will! Let me...live..."

"I shall let you live, for you have seen the light! But you still need to atone for your previous sins! Praise the lord!"

Reverend Sykes dislocates Ryan's shoulders as he passes out from the choke. Thomas weakly gets to his feet, cursing loudly.

"Fu...FUCK YOU!!!"

Sykes and Uncle Slam uppercut the eldest O'Dooley simultaneously, sending him careening into the air. The reverend jumps up after him and places him in the Holy Driver. Uncle Slam picks up the still living Hank, his chest oozing with blood, and Tombstones him into the mat! He then flips upside-down so looks like Hank is about to give Uncle Slam a Tombstone!

"Independence Day Massacre!"

Fireworks go off from the top of Uncle Slam's hat, sending him and Hank flying straight up in the air! He's trying to Tombstone Hank into the ceiling!

NOO! He's going straight up to where Reverend Sykes is Holy Driving Thomas! "GOD BLESS AMERICA!" they shout together!

PRRRRRRANK!

Both O'Dooley heads collide in mid-air! Thomas' head comes off while the top of Hank's head caves in, exposing his splattered brains! Reverend Sykes and Uncle Slam touch down on the mat, Sykes praying loudly while Slam poses and points his fingers towards Sykes as if to say "You da man!"

"What do you think, sir?" Artemis asks von Toity. The king grins widely.

"Wilson, inform our friend Caligula that we have a fighter."

[Spamdini]

The Reverend Zeebo Sykes stands before his flock. Deacon, GA, formally Jizz-o-rama in Pussy Central, which before that was Swanson County, GA. Single-handedly, the good man of the cloth was able to drive out all the mohawked hordes from the town and freed every man, woman and child from their wickedness. He also trained them in the art of war and provided them with the weapons necessary to defend themselves. Having converted the poor and tattered masses to the ways of the Lord, they pray daily to both God and to their savior, Zeebo Sykes.

On this momentous day, the grand reverend has honored the humble village with his presence. All kneel before him and thank Heaven above for sending this messiah to them. All smiles, the Reverend asks that his children stand so that they may be closer to God and his divine kindness. Basking in the warm sun, they turn their heads upwards and sing the hymns composed in honor of the holy preacher.

And so the sermon begins. Reverend Sykes speaks for well over two hours, but they hang on to every single word. The chapel is packed to the rafters as even standing room is shoulder to shoulder. Upon completion, the room rings with applause so loud that the very foundation begins to vibrate. The followers part like the Red Sea and the reverend begins to make his way from the stage to his personal office. Along the way he notices something. He quickly snaps his neck to the left and delivers a cold stare.

"YOU! CHILD!"

She is a 12 year old white girl. Her shirt is slightly tattered, but clean. Her hair is done up in a bow and she wears a skirt to her ankles. However, her midriff is showing, drawing the ire of the holy man.

"YOU DARE SHOW THIS SMUT IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD?!"

The girl is confused. She remembers television shows and music videos where barely and inch of flesh was covered. At one time, she emulated these trollops. Slowly, as the rebuilt town became more and more religious, society implied that these manners of dress are inappropriate and so her wardrobe became more conservative. Still, she did not expect her belly button to be so alarming to their savior. A shift backhand crosses her cheek. It is from her father.

"DAMMIT GIRL, I TOLD YOU TO DRESS UP REAL NICE FOR CHURCH! HOW DARE YOU INSULT HIS BENEVOLENCE LIKE THIS!"

Reverend Sykes puts a hand on the father's shoulder.

"Child, do you not know the Fifth Commandment? Honor thy father! Come with me child and I shall dispense punishment!"

The girl's mother protests. "You humbleness, we are the girl's parents. We shall take care of her accordingly."

Vicious eyes turn to the woman who just about feels like the dumbest cunt in the world for questioning their savior. Reverend Sykes takes the girl to his chambers where he drops his trousers.

"Suck!"

"W...wh..."

"SUCK CHILD! SUCK AND YOUR SINS SHALL BE WASHED AWAY!"

And so the girl begins to blow the reverend. He groans in pleasure and she weeps and chokes on his member. Eventually, she cannot take it anymore and removes her mouth, coughing and gagging from this foreign and most uncomfortable action. Reverend is still hard and his anger reaches a boiling point.

"HOW DARE YOU! DO YOU WISH FOR YOUR SINS TO REMAIN FOREVER?! YOU HAVE THE DEVIL IN YOU CHILD! REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES IMMEDIATELY SO I MAY BEAT HIM OUT OF YOUR TAINTED SOUL!"

Shaking feebly, the young girl removes her clothing and tries to cover up her prepubescent body. Sykes licks his lips, his eyes glowing with madness. Lifting a jagged wooden club, he begins flogging the child all over her body. Flesh rips and bones begin to crack under the merciless rain of pain that he administers. Once the torture stops, she is allowed to put her clothing back on. It feels heavy against her battered body and immediately becomes dyed red. She looks up for permission to leave. However, the reverend has one last punishment to inflict.

"My child, you are still tainted with the devil are you not?"

"N...no I'm not! I swear!"

"Yes you are. I'm afraid you are a curse upon the good God fearing people of this village."

And with that, Reverend Sykes slaps the girl in the face, sending her crumbling to the floor. He proceeds to pull out a lighter and an oddly shaped piece of metal. He begins to heat the metal until he grows red hot. The reverend presses the searing brand against the child's forehead, sending a mind-numbing pain throughout her entire tender body. She begins to lose consciousness, but is startled awake as she is thrown outside of the chapel. She turns her face up and sees her mother and father.

"M...mommy. He did stuff to me. He took off his pa..."

"Not another word, child!" the mother shouts. Both parents turn their back and begin to walk away.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

A rock catches the girl in the back of the head. Three grungy little boys chuckle as they whip stones at the defenseless and battered child.

"Bitch! Bitch!" they chant with typical boyish glee.

She cries and runs to her schoolteacher who happens to be passing by. However, she tosses the child to the ground with great anger.

"Don't touch me, bitch! Just go die!"

The girl picks her face out of the mud and looks into a puddle. The damp and nearly opaque water cooled the burning wound on her face, but it also provided a window into the much deeper injury that was inflicted. A reflection shows that in her head in a brand of a pentagram. Two grown men with pitchforks walk up and stare down with nothing less than pure hatred.

"Listen BITCH," says the fatter one, "you'd best get your ass out of Deacon! If we even see you again, we'll fucking tear your eyes out and rip your throat apart!

Using what little adrenaline she has left to run on, the girl runs to the city limits, dodging rocks and saliva all the way. The guard opens the village gates and uses a swift boot to the ass in order to expedite her banishment. Once again, she finds herself face down in the dirt. She looks up to the sight of a barren wasteland before her. Fearing starvation, she begins to trek into the endless desert.

She is not even two miles away from Deacon before twenty cars circle her and the rabid assholes of Pussy Central swoop in on her.

Back in Deacon, Reverend Sykes is adjusting his collar. Uncle Slam walks into the room, sporting a wicked grin.

"Zeebo, we've got a fight coming up. It's gonna be both of us. Von Toity knows who we're up against so get packing for Nouveau-Richonia."

"May God have mercy on whoever they may be. Ryan, grab my luggage!"

The O'Dooley brother picks up the bags in his teeth, his arms being in slings. The three of them enter an armored van which drives off into the horizon, accompanied by a platoon of death cars.

[Spamdini]

Just so everyone knows, there's no social commentary here. I just like writing about assholes.

[Seru]

Big surprise.

[Action Hank]

What a bastard! Thankfully the ILLUSIONIST and JAZZ FANTASTIC will show these monsters what for! AND HOW!

[Spamdini]

A crowd of approximately 1,000 gathers to watch the premiere of the first new American movie to be filmed and produced since the apocalypse. Titled "The Mud, the Blood and the Boring Bullshit", it is a tale of a man slowly falling into despair, then apathy, then hedonism in current America.

"Mary, I love you but..." stammers the main character.

"Joe, please! Just tell me what's wrong! We've been through so much together, before and after the country was destroyed. I'll always be there by your side to comfort and love you."

"I'm sorry Mary...but...your asshole has been stretched too wide for me to love you anymore."

A gang of goons pops out of nowhere and rapes Mary in every orifice. Joe walks away into the sunset as the credits begin to roll. The director, some depraved asshole who really did have the actress who played Mary raped by nine men at once, receives a standing ovation from the crowd. Von Toity applauds from his throne in the skybox. The awesome twist at the end truly left him satisfied. Wilson walks into the skybox and addresses his king.

"Sir, the Reverend Sykes and Mr. Slam are here to see you."

"Ah yes, come in gentlemen!"

Church & State walk in. Sykes shakes King von Toity's hand rather presumptuously to which Wilson responds with a slap to the holy man's face. Von Toity chuckles and shakes his head.

"Now now Wilson, you really don't need to be so uptight with my chosen champion. After all, we want him to be in tiptop shape for the 8th!"

Reverend Sykes turns his head towards the sky. "Only our Lord almighty is untouchable! I shall bring down fiery rain upon those to would dare besmirch his name in the name of vanity and sin!"

"You are in luck then," Wilson replies. "We know who your next opponents are. It is Church & State vs. The ILLUSIONIST and Jazz Fantastic. They're a magician and a jazz musician."

A thick vein begins to throb on Sykes' forehead. "A magician?! Such heresy! He uses satanic witchcraft in order to poison the minds of our children! And jazz is the music of Lucifer himself! This is truly a combination of pure wickedness! I insist that we be allowed to murder them before the 8th! We cannot have them tainting America with their unholy ways for another second, let alone another week!"

"You will wait till the 8th," the king snorts rather angrily. "I don't need Caligula directing his wrath towards me. Then you can kill to your heart's content. This Illusionist was another former employee of mine. He won the first games, that is true. However, he is a complete weakling, relying on flukes and magic that doesn't actually work. Wilson, what are the numbers on the chances of him pulling off another one of his surprise wins?"

Wilson pulls out his ledger. "I place the odds at 0.32466...%. Given what we know of him and the unreliability of his abilities, it is extremely unlikely that he and this musician will be able to even give you two a decent fight."

Uncle Slam is pleased with this information. "Well then, we'll make sure to make you look good then, chief! I promised you that this Jazz Fantastic is going to be left red, white and bruised!"

Reverend Sykes is not nearly as pleased. "How dare you imply that the forces of Hell have even a remote chance of winning against the forces of Heaven! I shall see that this devil is purged from existence!" And before von Toity can get another word in, he is gone.

Uncle Slam has to sprint to keep up with the lightning pace at which the reverend is strolling down the hall. He grabs his partner by the shoulder and spins him around.

"You heard the chief! We can't kill these guys before the 8th! Calm down! By magic he just means crappy card tricks and dead pigeons. I saw Vic Powers' act once back in Vegas. He's a hack! Don't get so worked up!"

"I cannot!" the overzealous reverend replies. "How can I possibly stand idly by while these demons go about their business? I'm sure that they are in the process of some satanic ritual in order to gain power!"

Uncle Slam tilts his hat and grins widely. "Well, what if I told you that a little birdie told me a nice secret about our friend the Illusionist?"

Back in the skybox, von Toity tents his fingers and sits pensively.

"Do you think he is stable enough to trust?" asks Wilson.

"Hmm...I doubt he'll be able to find The Illusionist in a week. Just in case, have a few men look after him so that he does come to harm before Slaughter Serenade."

"And at Slaughter Serenade? I thought you wanted to Mr. Powers' services. I did not take his ability to find surging power during times of crisis into consideration, but I was not lying about his chances. If Sykes kills him..."

"I need to gamble. If Powers dies against those two jokers, then maybe he really is as useless as everyone thinks. But if I'm right, then I'll be a step closer to my completing my plan. By the way, what about the other one's whereabouts?"

Wilson shakes his head. "No sign of him since the end of Abhorrent Anathema."

Von Toity bites his lip. "Kenjirooooooo..."

[Spamdini]

Uncle Slam leads Reverend Sykes down a long stairwell into a dank dungeon with Sykes' newest minion Ryan O'Dooley in tow. Opening a thick wooden door, the team of Church & State come upon a man chained up against the wall. His eyes are filled with fear, as if something terribly traumatic had happened to him recently.

"Well now soldier," Uncle Slam begins to say, stroking his snow-white chin hairs. "Are you ready to talk about what you know about The Illusionist?"

"No...it's not his fault...we...we shouldn't have said..."

Uncle Slam loosens the bonds that keep the poor man hung up on the wall. He eases him to the ground, consoling him all the while. "But it is his fault, my friend! Friends, family, all dead! The Bonefucker kingdom is no more! Everything was good before, wasn't it? You have a good job working as arena security! But then The Illusionist came! If you hadn't found a way to escape, you'd be dead just like everyone else!"

"The horror...all dead..."

"Tell us solider, where is The Illusionist going?"

"Horror..."

Uncle Slam gives a nod to his partner. The poor distraught soldier gets to his feet and stumbles towards the door, only to feel a large weight on his shoulders! It is Zeebo Sykes, putting him in the Conversion Chart submission move! The soldier screams in agony as he feels his neck being squeezed and his arms on the verge of being ripped from their sockets!

"My brother, you need to see the light!" Ryan O'Dooley cries. "I too was a sinner such as you once! But praaaaaaaaaaaise the good Reverend Sykes, for he showed me the path to glory! My brothers, rest their sinful souls, paid the ultimate price for their crimes against the lord! You must see the light, my brother! Help us hunt down this devil and cast his miserable soul to HELL!"

The muscles begin to tear in the soldier's arms. He is incapable, or maybe just unwilling, to do anything but scream. Eventually, Reverend Sykes tugs with all his might and rips the poor fellow's arms off. As he lays there dying in a massive pool of his own blood, the soldier mutters but one place.

"Holy...Lightning...Empire..."

The soldier expires. Uncle Slam bites his lip.

"Look reverend, that's not a place you want to be. I mean, Caligula Lightning is almost like a Go..." He does not finish his sentence because he knows just how his partner will react.

"Have you forgotten our mission to restore America? There is no territory forbidden to us, nor is there any man too great to be humbled by the Lord!" screams the fervent Sykes. "Neither Lightning nor fire nor knives of ice can stop me from hunting down the Illusionist!"

"Remember, we can't kill him! We just have to fuck with his head! Let's find out why he's going to the Holy Lightning Empire!"

Sykes shakes his head. "You have become soft, my dear Uncle! Ryan, pack the van!"

"Yes, your excellence!"

Sykes and Ryan O'Dooley make their way upstairs, chanting all the way. Once they are gone, Uncle Slam pulls out a mobile phone and begins dialing.

"Hello...it's me. Yeah, I'm still with Sykes. He can be a little overzealous but I think he can be trusted to help with our plan."

...

"Yes sir, Florida is already starting to be filled with elderly refuse again. I think we can hope to restore the southeast completely by next year."

...

"The KATN Project? Sir, I think that we should put it on hold. Don't you think it would compromise..."

...

"Yes sir, I understand. But please give us some time! If we can claim victory in Caligula's bloodfights, the plan might not be necessary! There can be more to be gained if..."

...

"I understand. I'll be ready to go through with it at any time. Uncle Slam, over and out."

[Spamdini]

Reverend Sykes rides along the dusty countryside with his tag partner and entourage of zealots. Their destination: Holy Lightning Empire in order to interfere with The Illusionist's plans of reuniting with his father. In the name of the Lord!

Along the way, they came across a large village with rather impressive fortifications, including machine gun turrets, ballistae, rocket launchers and so forth. In spite of the fearsome armory, this town is open to outsiders. Known as Fort Freedom, it is used as an outpost for travelers wishing to refuel their gas tanks and stomachs. The soil is rich and therefore there are acres open acres of vegetation. This means not only can fruit and vegetables be grown, but livestock can be raised as well! Only Sykes and two of his zealots are allowed in the city walls, leaving Uncle Slam and the other goons on the outside.

Reverend Sykes and his two cronies, Ryan O'Dooley and a 7 foot imbecile by the name of Derek DuBrule, casually walk down the streets f the city market. They trade weaponry and exotic items bought in Nouveau-Richonia for food and gasoline. Before they depart, Reverend Sykes notices three men toiling to put up steel plating on the city wall.

"My sons," the reverend shouts out to the workers, "what is it that you are doing?"

They turn around and wipe themselves off. The leader of the trio steps takes a sip of water and responds by saying "Puttin' up armor on the wall so it can't be knocked down!"

The reverend shakes his head. "Tsk tsk tsk. You are trying to prevent your down by being overtaken by traveling hordes, are you not?"

"Well yeah. That's what all the protection and weapons are for. Our leader, Mr. Williams has us constantly improving the safety of our city. His says we can only survive through hard work and proper planning and logic."

"Valiant, but ultimately futile!" Reverend Sykes scoffs. "A well organized gang of goons could easily climb over this wall! Some of them are 12 feet tall, you know!"

"Yeah, we know. Mr. Williams says that we only have about 40% chance of repelling an attack. But he says that it's better than 0% chance if we just sit around."

Reverend Sykes hangs his head and shakes it solemnly. "40%? You work hard night and day for only a 40% chance of survival? This Mr. Williams does not seem to be very reliable!"

"Well, he's the smartest out of all of us. He earned a masters degree from MIT and is really good at designing all these things. We figure it's best to listen to him."

"Tell me gentlemen," says Sykes as he paces back and forth. "Do you enjoy being worked like dogs while this so-called 'expert' sits in his ivory tower drawing pictures of guns and walls?"

The three laborers scratch their heads and look at each other. "But what can we do? If we don't listen to him, the goons will get us!"

"There is another way!" Reverend Sykes places his hand on the head laborer's shoulder and smiles broadly. "Submit to our lord above! His divine hand will shield you from all your woes!"

The three workers are shocked and begin to mumble amongst themselves. After much blithering discussion, the biggest of the three steps forward and speaks for the first time. "Gosh reverend, I dunno. Back in the ol' days, I was a church goin' man myself. But Mr. Williams won't even let us build churches no more. Says they're a waste of resources or somethin'. I doubt God would make us strong enough to defend ourselves, anyways."

Sykes smiles. "Gentlemen, allow me to show you the power of God!"

[Spamdini]

Mr. Williams groans over a series of blueprints and charts. Workers are scurrying all around him, building makeshift weaponry and towers that shoot flaming tar and tires. He's only had 4 hours sleep in the last 72 hours, but he can't afford to rest. The abundance of food and guns makes the town an appealing target for any gang of mohawked goons that may be roaming the countryside.

"Get the ramparts up and reinforced!" he bellows. "Quickly!"

Just then, a panicked villager runs up with his arms flailing homosexually. "Sir, it's terrible!"

"What is it? An attack?!"

"N-no, Mr. Williams! It's...well...look!"

A group of over a hundred men walk in unison towards their town's leader. Leading them is none other than the illustrious Reverend Zeebo Sykes. He signals for his new men to stop and they comply. Many of them sport sore shoulders or have their arms in slings. Mr. Williams is unfazed. "And just who are you?" he asks.

"Yea, hear my name and salute the providence I bring your humble townsfolk, for I am the great Reverend Zeebo Sykes!"

"I've never heard of you." Mr. Williams replies, barely looking up from his clipboard. "Now kindly leave. We don't need your sanctimonious nonsense here. This is a land of logic and technology."

Sykes laughs heartily at this comment. "Logic and technology? It is heresy such as that that allowed America to fall in despair! Only God can restore this land to what it once was! I am leading this town now and I will lead them to paradise."

Mr. Williams snaps his fingers and summons two burly bodyguards. "Hanson, N'Sync, remove this man from my presence." The muscled men comply and each grabs an arm. But before they can move Sykes a single inch, a swarm of workers mob the bodyguards and beat them down. Mr. Williams throws his clipboard to the ground in a rage.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?! You're following this nutcase?! Look, if I hadn't used my ingenuity back at the beginning of the apocalypse, we would have all been killed by the Fuckcockfuck gang! Can't you see that hard work and proper planning are the only ways we'll survive?!"

A voice rings out from the crowd. "You work us too hard!"

"I hate lifting shit all day!"

"I broke my arm and you made me drive trucks anyways!"

"You ration everything and give us so little!"

"That's right! You hog all the food and never do any work!"

Mr. Williams can't believe what he's hearing. "I work harder than all of you," he shouts from his parched throat. "I don't sleep, I don't eat, I saw my own daughter pass away and still kept on working to keep this city safe! You'd throw away everything we worked for just because this douche talked about some God faggocity?!"

Reverend Sykes shakes his head and faces the crowd behind him. "So misguided! He makes wild claims that his technology is your only path to salvation. But in spite of all your efforts and all the backbreaking agony that you poor souls put up with, he can't even promise your safety!"

"Of course I can't promise 100% safety! It's impossible! There are too many factors to consider and we're stretched too thin! But we..."

Sykes whips a crucifix at Mr. Williams' head, cutting him open and causing him to clutch his forehead in pain. "I have had enough of your blathering! Whereas you bring empty promises, I bring hope! With the power of God, I can assure that you will all live safely for the rest of your days!"

Those who weren't already following the reverend now begin to show interest. They begin to cheer and chant, though others remain skeptical.

"Need further proof that God is superior to science?" Sykes asks. He leaps onto Mr. Williams' shoulder and applies the Conversion Chart. He pulls back on the engineer's arms and chokes him out at the same time. Muscles begin to tear and his face turns blue from lack of oxygen. "I will prove God's might by making this man of technology to submit to His will! Admit that God is mightier than science!"

"N...never!"

"Convert, sinner!"

"I...I won't!"

There's a loud snapping sound as Mr. Williams' arms break in several places. The crowd averts their gaze in disgust but Williams smirks. "T-think you've proven your point? As you can tell, I've resisted your bullying. Science wins over your so-called God!"

Derek DuBrule, the reverend's 7-foot goon, grabs Mr. Williams and tosses him high into the air. Floating up in the air like an angel, Zeebo Sykes catches him and places him in the Holy Driver. Mr. Williams is driven two feet into the ground and is murdered most soundly. All are awed by the magnificent beauty of the move. One little boy steps forward.

"I...I didn't know God was this badass! Awesome!"

The whole village cheers and gets way rowdy. A mile off, a group of mohawked goons hear the celebrating. Their leader, ten feet tall with nails for teeth, smiles widely. Also, his name is Stuart. Just Stuart.

"Let's give them something to really cheer about!" The horde of motorcycles begin to drive towards Fort Freedom...

[Magic Juan]

God, Zeebo fucking Sykes is very important and awesome. I can't wait to see the Illusionist get fucking Church and Stated.

[Spamdini]

The celebration of Fort Freedom's savior is a short one. Barely 15 minutes passes before the sound of motorcycles rumbling can be heard. The town is thrown into a panic as their worst nightmare becomes real. They're about to be overwhelmed by Stuart and his Cool Posse.

"My fellow believers!" Reverend Sykes shouts from the tallest mountaintop. "Do not fret! We can defeat these wicked sinners! All you need to know is that God is on our side and that to fall in battle assures you a place beside his glorious throne!"

All of the believers begin screaming in a frenzy and pick up their weapons. Outside the city walls, Uncle Slam and all of Sykes' goons stand ready to fight, but find hundreds of meek villagers willing to stand on the front line. The Cool Posse and the Fort Freedom fighters clash in an epic explosion of gore and death! Many of the villagers are slaughtered mercilessly, but don't give up a single inch. They keep fighting, even as their bodies are cleaved in half by swords that more closely resemble butcher's cleavers.

"Boss!" A mohawked goon shouts to Stuart. "These guys are weird! They're way stronger than they look! Our men are getting scared!"

Stuart stands up. He's riding a bull rather than a horse and his weapon is a ball and chain, except that the ball portion is composed of shotguns. "Scared?! What do they have to be scared of?! These guys aren't even gigantic and don't wear revealing leather costumes! They can't beat us! Keep fighting!"

A wave of goons run straight at the villagers, but a gray bearded man steps out of the crowd and grins smugly. It's Uncle Slam!

"Stars and Stripes Slash!"

Uncle Slam's hand is barely visible as he chops the chest of all the goons. They stand there momentarily trying to comprehend what just happened, then their chests and stomachs explode, leaking blood and entrails across the desert sands.

Elsewhere, two villagers begin to tremble as they see a dozen mohawks, dripping with the blood of their brothers down sadistic faces. "T-this is crazy! We'll die!" They both spin around and begin running away when a large burly arm catches them. It's Derek DuBrule, the reverend's strongman from the last two chapters. Except one of his eyes is dangling out of the socket, one of his hands has been chopped off and there's a torso hanging out of his mouth. He spits the remainders of a goon onto the ground and squeezes the cowards hard.

"Do not run! There is no turning back! We shall perish fighting for our Lord and be graced with eternal bliss for our work here!" He rips off his shirt to reveal that there are ten sticks of lit dynamite underneath! The goons panic but it's too late! DuBrule runs at them full steam while still clutching the villagers in his handless arm. "FOR THE GLORY OF JESUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!"

Giant explosion with guts everywhere ensues. Stuart can't believe what he's seeing.

"These guys...they're willing to die? What in the hell is wrong with them?!"

"They have seen the light!" rings a voice from the shadows. The Reverend Sykes stands there heroically, clutching the Holy Bible in his left hand and a severed head in his other. He tosses both to the ground as he evades the ball-and-chain-shotgun and wraps his legs around Stuart's neck. He applies the Conversion Chart and screams, "Now you too will see the light!"

The blood to Stuart's brain is cut off as his arms are being pulled in an unnatural manner, causing extreme pain. Once the lack of oxygen to his central nervous system gets to be too much, he begins hallucinating. The world around him turns white and a bright light begins shining down from the sky. A large friendly hand extends itself as a smiling face erases all feelings of pain and fear from him.

"I...I see now! It's the face of God! It's...beautiful!"

Reverend Sykes releases the hold and Stuart stumbles forward. Rubbing his sore limbs, he returns to reality and looks at the carnage all around him. "My brothers, STOP!" he shouts from the top of his lungs. All turn their attention to him. "We should not be fighting each other! I saw God and he told me that the way to paradise isn't attacking random villages! It's attacking assholes who don't believe in God! Let's kill their asses instead!"

The crowd cheers and Sykes hugs the newest addition to his army of righteous warriors. An hour later, the reverend's crew leaves Fort Freedom along with Stuart and his Cool Posse, now renamed King David's Cool Posse. The village waves them goodbye and then returns to their peaceful lives.

"Let us celebrate our liberation!" the new village leader proclaims. The crowd cheers in unison until an advisor comes over to the new chief.

"Uh sir, there's a big problem."

"Yes?"

"All our crops. They're gone. So are our weapons and valuables."

"Huh?!"

"I gave Reverend Sykes access to the supplies. He said that in other to have God's protection, it would be necessary to tithe us."

"But what are WE supposed to eat?!"

"..."

"..."

A week later, Reverend Sykes reaches the borders of the Holy Lightning Empire. Fort Freedom, on the other hand, has been reduced to cannibalism and widespread mayhem. A week after that, the last survivor dies of severe bowel explosion.

[Magic Juan]

The greater plan of God is very mysterious.

[Spamdini]

The following is a telephone conversation between Uncle Slam and an unknown person. It takes place during Reverend Zeebo Sykes' attempt on The Illusionist's life in a promo that takes place in another thread.

"Sir, this is Uncle Slam reporting! We have arrived in the Holy Lightning Empire, two days before Slaughter Serenade. I regret to inform you that I have lost track of the reverend."

...

"Yes sir, I do believe he will try to kill the Illusionist before Slaughter Serenade. Given the Illusionist's apparant lack of ability, I believe there's a good chance he will succeed."

...

"Yes sir, I agree. It will slow down our plans should he succeed. However, we should not worry. All will go according to plan regardless."

...

"Yes, everything is in place. Our victory will show everyone that America is capable of being reunited under one flag and one leader. Church and State will bring us back to our roots, just like you always wanted."

...

"Yes sir, I agree that the apocalypse may have done more good for restoring American lifestyle than bad. It was by fighting tooth and nail that we achieved independence to begin with. By removing the complacence of 21st century culture, we have a better chance of reaching the true patriots in everyone!"

...

"No sir, I don't think the reverend is a complete liability. Though he may be unstable at times, he is charismatic and a powerful fighter. His uses in my opinion outweigh his faults."

...

"Yes sir, I realize the importance of the KATN project to you. However I feel..."

...

"Very well sir. The project will be implemented after Slaughter Serenade. I shall personally see to it."

...

"Thank you sir. It is an honor to serve you. Over and out...Mr. President."

[Big Fagot]

GOOSH GOOSH goosh goosh goosh