NBA Dramatique: Falling Dominoes

Once the war had begun, it spread rapidly. For each battle that took place on the first day, four took place on the second. The outcome of many of these skirmishes could have been easily predicted before they even began. There were some notable conflicts, though, which were interesting in their unfolding.

Night had fallen on 7th Avenue, and dark clouds rolled in quickly to cover the moon. A strong wind gusted up the street, blowing random debris into the air. D'Antoni had been training his new customers to use their spectacular jet packs from atop the city skyscrapers, and as he turned his face into the wind and saw the ominous darkening of the night sky, he knew the time for action had come to them.

"Men," he shouted, "get ready!"

*****

Goran was awoken by someone shaking his body roughly. The piano player with the eyepatch was trying to rouse him from sleep, but Goran's slumber had taken on new heaviness since the transformation, and it took considerable effort before he was fully concious.

"Get up! Get up! Get up! We have something to do!" Eyepatch was excitedly saying. He moved away from Goran to another body and began the shaking of that one too, saying the same thing over and over. Goran looked around the room and saw that some of the living corpses were already moving about, having been awoken before him. Nash, the small pale one who had been helping Goran adjust to his new un-life walked over to the bed on which Goran had been sleeping.

"We're travelling tonight." Nash told him.

"It is not to feast?" Goran asked. He was not hungry, and the memory of his last meal would have made him ill if that function of his body was still operative.

"No" answered Nash. "This is more for...fun. See, when we were our old selves, we were consistently taken out of the war by the Machine. Every time..." Nash stared off blankly for a moment with sunken eyes, seeming to recall the almosts and nearlys that the Machine had denied him. He came back to the moment and gestured towards Eyepatch. "Amare especially hates the Machine. He thinks it has magical powers that allow it to cheat. He hates their cyborgs. He lives to destroy it. So Amare recently found out that it has gone active again, but with an important piece missing. The -20 unit is in a repair status and can't enter combat, so we want to attack it now. It will be far weaker without that -20."

The Big Resurrection overheard their conversation and shambled over. "Cowards" he said. "I'll make them pay."

*****

The men were lining up in formation at D'Antoni's urging, jet packs reflecting the blues and oranges of the city's nighttime colors. There was a fiery glow of red on the horizon, and D'Antoni thought he could hear the cacophonous shrieks of the approaching enemy. A tap on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. D'Antoni turned around to find an angry bald guy and an angry fat guy staring him down. The Clown and the Clod.

"Yeah?" asked D'Antoni sarcastically.

"Where's our jet packs?" the Clown asked.

"You don't get one."

The Clown and the Clod exchanged angry looks then turned their glares back to D'Antoni. "Why not?"

"I don't have any more"

The Clod could see the open hatch of the chrome trailer in which the jet packs were normally stored. There clearly were a few still inside, each with a 7 stenciled on the side. "There's some right there!" he said, pointing.

D'Antoni didn't bother looking in the direction of the pointed finger. "Those are display models. They're not for sale."

"We got money, man! Sell us the packs!" said the Clod.

"I don't think you two are understanding me" said D'Antoni, looking from one to the other straight in the eye. "They're not for sale. Not to you. Got it?"

The two were left speechless for only a moment, then the Clown answered. "Yeah. Yeah. I see what you're saying. I don't think you understand the situation, though. That's our gang. Our Boys. They follow us. You don't get to come around here and flash your gadgets and tell them what to do."

D'Antoni allowed himself a chuckle. He then got very close to the face of the Clown and spoke in a serious tone. "Yes I do. The notion that that's your 'gang' has been reduced to opinion. Your opinion. I think you'll find that they no longer share your opinion. You and your big friend are not needed. You're not wanted. I suggest that you shut your mouth and find a nice comfortable spot to sit down because you won't be flying with your old gang. Not anytime soon. Damn sure not tonight."

D'Antoni gave them cold stares and began to turn away, then caught their eyes again. "And they'll probably punch you in the mouth if you call them 'Boys' like you used to. They wanted a new name with a little more dignity."

"Oh yeah? What do they like to be called?" the Clown asked with frustration.

"The Seventh Second Chance." D'Antoni turned and watched as his men took flight towards the arriving threat.

*****

The Followers of the Sun arrived at the quarry near which the Machine was stationed. They saw the vast form of steel silhouetted against the night sky, artificial clouds formed by its dark exhaust. No signs of outward activity were visible at the moment, and they approached cautiously.

Just as they had all gathered around the gigantic Machine and began looking for a point of access, a loud alarm sounded and red flashing lights illuminated their position. A robotic voice was amplified by loudspeakers proclaiming "Intruder Identified! Neutralize Threat! Intruder Identified! Neutralize Threat!" Without further warning a massive cannon telescoped outward from the side of the Machine. Its barrel was nearly two feet in diameter and came to a halt just six inches away from the face of the Big Resurrection. He looked down that barrel for a moment of frozen uncertainty, then a tiny gloved hand on a robotic arm extended from its depths. Delicately held between the first finger and thumb of the hand was a fragile daisy, petals ready to fall off with the slightest breath. The bizarre laughter of the undead erupted among them all despite themselves. The Big one then swatted the flower aside and said "Let's tear this thing apart."

*****

Demons were descending upon 7th avenue. They were an unsightly, cursed bunch. D'Antoni, though, was not terribly concerned. After all, he was quite well-traveled and had seen Demon infestations on more than one occasion. They could be quite fearsome, but they were also easily flustered and confused. D'Antoni was in constant communication with his fliers, keeping them motivated and focused. He was able to determine also from experience that many of these attacking horrors were young ones. They were unsure of themselves and still growing accustomed to their Hell-spawned abilities. There was one among them that D'Antoni recognized. With sadness he remembered the young man from out west that used to fly with his old crew, and shook his head with regret that he had been unable to prevent the tragedy of his demise. Maybe he's better off than the others, though, D'Antoni considered.

*****

Those others were currently busy fighting within the bowels of the Machine. Though the Followers' information had been correct regarding the non-functionality of the -20 unit, the Machine's cyborgs were not apparently lessened in their ferocity. DNCN-21 and PRKR-9 were viciously effective. The battle was tightly locked for several hours with neither force being able to demonstrate a definitive advantage over the other. The contest was not truly decided until the final moments, when the vengeful Amare was able to cause serious damage to a crucial motherboard, and -21 and -9 both had targeting glitches that would have otherwise returned to them the advantage. The Followers of the Sun took immense pride in their victory, and escaped from the Machine clutching wires and damaged parts in their rotting hands.

*****

A day after crushing the Underground with ease, the Master decided that a more public display of force was in order. In no mood to travel, he decided to unleash the knights of the Western Banner upon the Barony. His assassin again found little challenge in the task at hand, but obediently erased the dreams of any within the Barony that they could supplant the Banner. The beat-down of the Underground had been a warm-up. The attack on the Barony was nothing short of a slaughter. Baron Boom fought hard and did his best to rally his troops, but it was simply not within their ability. He cursed the betrayal of Baron Brand during the massacre, unaware that the former baron was himself witnessing a devastating attack by the Tribe of the Reptile. He too momentarily cursed his betrayal.

*****

With surprising ease, the Demons were sent back to Hell by the Seventh Second Chance. The longer they spent in the air, the more confident they became in themselves and each other, and after a long spell of repeatedly getting their asses handed to them, it was a great joy to win a fight. As the fliers congratulated one another and smiled, feeling happy to be a part of something positive for a change, they were watched with envious and spiteful eyes. The Clown and the Clod watched the men carefully stow the jet packs back in the trailer, and watched D'Antoni lock it back up. Their stares would have burned holes straight through the victorious squad if possible.

"What are we going to do, man?" asked the Clod.

"I don't know yet" he answered. "But we ain't goin' out like this. I promise you."

*****