Idiot Brigade

Not According to Plan

"Stock market prices continue to rise from production increase to fund the war efforts in Inoro. In other news, thirty-eight anti-Brigade protesters were killed yesterday by an unknown assailant. The group was protesting the war, and demanded a peaceful resolution."

For god's sake, the radio never shuts up. I don't really need to hear about "stock prices" and "a protest getting massacred". I already know these things, I helped cause them! 

This begs the honest question: why the hell do I even listen to the radio anymore? I finished signing a trade agreement with the Corondumi Isles as I pondered the use of a radio for myself. I mean, I could need the radio at some time in the future in the event some breaking news comes out that I did not know of. But at the same time, the annoying pop songs that come on drive me crazy! They're just constantly repeated over, and over, and over again. I threw the trade agreement into a pile of completed documents and grabbed a new one from the overflowing stack. Oh, yes, This is just what I wanted to do. We need someone we can count on, Dark Rai said. You're the only one I trust with it, he said. Now he and Dustin are off killing the damned Inorians in the war, being all badass and such, and I get to sign fucking trade agreements! I know it's necessary, and we need the agreements to keep the war effort going, but still.

I gaze around my office, the gray walls poking at my sanity. Day in and day out, always these walls. They threaten to surround me, to suffocate me. Oh, well. At least I have a window. I can gaze out at the beauty of Tokyo all I want. Sadly, it's been cloudy recently, and I cannot enjoy the sun's company to add some life to this bleak room. My computer screen lights up. Huh. Looks like the revolutions in Russia finally resolved. It appears that Russia will be splitting into a few states, called the Yerevan States? Yeah, good luck with that. The United States tried that, once upon a time. It didn't last any longer than a couple hundred years. The door to my office swung open, the clang of it hitting the wall jolting me back to reality.

"Little Dude, sir!" I heard Ryan yell, his voice muffled. I adjusted myself in my chair, turning to see him. His metallic suit clanged, oxygen tubes draped around him. The life support system seemed to be helping him, but I wished he didn't have to use it.

"What is it, Ryan? Can't you see I'm oh-so-busy?" I sarcastically replied, gesturing to my pile of papers. Ryan fiddled with his mask. A loose corner rattled.

"Oh, excuse me, your highness." he shot back, bending down in an over-the-top bow. "I know that you have such hard work compared to us peasants. But I have a message from God himself." He stood back up and threw a letter at me. I lifted myself from my chair and caught it. Sitting back down, I tore it open immediately. Reading over the letter, my eyes grew wide. Joy covered my face.

"Get my jet ready. I'm finally going to go kick some ass!"

"Of course, sir." Ryan ran out of my office, heading for the hangar, no doubt. I threw myself from my chair, the chair sliding away, crashing into a wall. I rushed to my closet, almost skipping with glee. Finally, I could go back to the fighting, finally get rid of this goddamned desk job, FINALLY! When I got to my closet, I pressed my hand down on the handprint recognition system. The door clicked and whirred before it slid into the wall. Grinning, I walked into the closet. Thank god John wasn't here, he'd make some "coming out of the closet" joke. I cleared my throat, preparing for the voice command I waited so long to use once again.

"This is Little Dude." I began. "Activate Reunion Protocol."

"Acknowledged." The closet responded. I stretched my arms out, parallel to the floor. I patiently waited as I heard the sound of machinery activating, reawakening after years of being dormant.

My body began to be covered by brown, metal plates, surrounding me, protecting me. My old flesh. At least, I considered it that back in my fighting days. I felt the cold and hardness of the metal, a grim reminder of what happened all those years ago. I shuddered, feeling my helmet slip over my face. My green official uniform had now been replaced by my metal suit. I smiled, finally in my element once again. My eyesight became tinted green, the eyeholes locked firmly into place. My heads-up display flashed, the words "Welcome Jarrod" crossing my line of vision. I felt the systems reawaken, my oxygen supply filling my mask, the sound of the wheezing air systems vibrating through my skull. Steam escaped my suit, condensing on the walls around me.