I followed the "I RISE IN OPPOSITION TO OBAMACARE!" thread periodically from start to finish, transforming it into Chapter 8 of my continuing series. If this gets more paws than the original thread, I think that'd be pretty funny.

If you want to have some real fun, read this alongside the thread that inspired it (linked). Now then, this is the last of my chapters of this series until some new and exciting material worthy of historical fan-fictional recording is produced. As such, I've provided a downloadable copy of the completed History of the C Dome with this post. Enjoy!

“Fire!” Adamsen pointed off in the distance as he caught sight of one of the Pscis dashing between two stone columns.

            A loud thud echoed across the dome. In a split second, one of the two columns the Con’s Acting General was viewing through his binoculars exploded into a mound of rubble.

            “Ha ha!”

“Why don’t you just go for their base?” Gord asked from nearby.

            “Ha!” Adamsen laughed, pulling his eyes away from the binoculars to face MegIntire, “As strong as these cruz missiles are, even they can’t penetrate the walls of The Psci’s lab. No, the only way to destroy that eyesore is to force the Psci to abandon it. I don’t care if it takes twenty-one hours and nineteen minutes, I’m going to keep firing as long as the missiles keep coming.”

            “Aren’t you the one making them, though?”

            “Exactly.” Adamsen returned his eyes to the binoculars, “Fire!”

            Another explosion rocked the dome, the ground vibrating as a fountain of turf and soil burst into the air.

            A flash grenade exploded in the midst of the organized Cons and their artillery, briefly lighting up the inside of the dome. Along with the rest of those assembled, the blast left Gord’s vision bleary. Rather than leave himself vulnerable, he moved his eye patch to his left eye and activated the view from the right lens, which had been unaffected by the light. Looking up at the source of the grenade, he saw Dan Han dodge behind the wall of the Keeper’s promenade. Great… Now they were involved in this too.

            Confirming his suspicion, Bran Donbe appeared to his right, wielding a crude machete. Suddenly, he began hacking at one of the artillery firing on the Psci’s position.

            “Fire at will!” David commanded, abandoning the binoculars as he charged toward Bran.

            Needless noise, Gord thought to himself. Was it really worth it? Off in the distance, a large bear-shaped Psci lumbered toward the artillery line. It was unmistakably Bahn. Oh boy… things were going to get messy.

            Bahn ferociously lifted up one of the artillery and smashed it into the ground, sending shrapnel flying across the battle zone.

            “Hiiiya!” Christine leaped over Gord, striking the bear in his jaw. Angrily, he bore down on her… but she was ready, shield firmly held in place.

            With merciless vigor, Bahn began rending the shield. Between strikes, Christine fired short bursts at him from her EMP-AT rifle, though they had little effect.

            After taking a few more shots from Christine’s rifle, Bahn turned his back to her and targeted Adamsen as he began loading a Cruz missile into one of the artillery. Before the Acting General had a chance to fire, Bahn struck the barrel of the artillery with one large paw, bending it toward the ground. Instinctively, Gord activated his barrier shield, preparing for what would come next.

            Despite the damage to its barrel, Adamsen nevertheless fired the artillery. As expected, it ruptured and shook as the missile got jammed. Moments later, it imploded, showering the combatants in debris.

            “You idiot!’ Bran Donbe cursed, “What’s your problem, don’t you know how to operate artillery?”

            “Bahn asked for it.” Adamsen grinned, brushing gunpowder from his jacket.

            Without warning, Bran struck out at Adamsen with his machete, though his target effectively deflected the attack with the barrel of his EIB Echo cannon.

            After watching the two exchange a few more blows, Gord sensed a presence… an awesome presence enter the arena. Looking in the direction of the Keeper’s Base, he witnessed Master Leach emerging from behind a mound of twisted metal, formerly one of the Con’s artillery. The Master had a cool expression on his face and held a small control in his hand.

            “An exercise in futility!” he chortled, grasping his belt buckle with his other hand.

            He casually strolled toward Adamsen who, though keeping his echo cannon at the ready, refrained from firing on the leader of the keepers.

            “I’m warning you, Leach, stay out of this.”

            Leach paused and rested his hand on the barrel of one of the artillery, running it gently down the sleek silvery-white metal, “This is an inherently ineffectual exercise.” He added, gazing thoughtfully at the weapon before looking back at the Acting General.

“That’s enough from you, Leach.” Adamsen fired a warning shot toward The Master, though the aim was enough off where it fell short of being threatening.

“Is it, now?” Leach continued walking, taking time to run his hand across each of the artillery as he passed it.

“That’s it, Leach!” Adamsen fired the echo cannon at Leach just as he came within seven yards of him. The sonic blasts appeared to have some effect on the Master, who kneeled to the ground and planted a hand on his knee. Once Adamsen was satisfied that he had silenced his foe, he discontinued fire.

“Had enough, Leach?”

“What? Were you firing at me? I hardly noticed. I just dropped my remote detonator.” He reached down and picked up a small switch.

“Remote… ooooooh…” Adamsen shielded his eyes as his remaining artillery exploded into a cacophony of metallic wreckage, throwing Con and Psci alike to the ground and shaking the very foundation of the Dome. The only combatant left standing was The Chambler, who shot an obligatory spitball at Adamsen’s head once the dust settled. Lifting himself back up, Adamsen reached for his echo cannon, but it had been knocked out of his reach by the blast, denying him a chance to retaliate.

“Enough!” A voice echoed across the dome. A dirt devil began swirling in the midst of the decimated artillery line, indicating that Cockrell would be riding in on his jetpack at any moment. The dead zone fell silent.

Once he landed, the Commander addressed the assembled fighters, though his gaze remained focused on Leach.

“Leach, what is the meaning of this? All these explosions interrupted my afternoon soaps and knocked over one of my favorite lamps. This is inexcusable!” He unzipped his pajamas and produced a shotgun from the inside of the pink bunny and rainbow-adorned onesie.

“I’m as irritated by the racket as you, Commander, but your complaint is off-base. Clearly, not I, but The Pscis and The Cons are responsible for this interruption.”

James fired a blast from his granpappy’s shotgun at Master Leach’s feet, sending the keeper jumping backward.

“What’s your problem, James?” Bran slashed at the shotgun with his machete.

“Lay off him, Donbe” Christine lifted her rifle’s sight to her eyes and took aim at Bran Donbe.

The standoff between the three was interrupted as Bahn, who had re-engaged PFT Eck in close-quarters combat, lifted the private into the air and hurled him into the Commander. Cockrell sloughed Eck off of him and charged Bahn, leaving the hapless Con recruit vulnerable. A moment later, The Chambler shuffled up and sat on his face. A loud uuurp followed by a series of muffled screams indicated that Eck had gotten his mouth fumigated. Christine winced in disgust.

Gord felt something nipping at the leg of his shell. Smiling, he reached his hand down and stroked Kwokzol between the ears. At least he wasn’t alone in avoiding this all this senseless war and strife. It was now clear to him what needed to be done.

He needed to take out Cockrell.