When the first rays of light peek over the horizon, we find our heroes tightly strapping their possessions to their show-raptors. Levon turns to Axel and says, “A lot more excitement then I thought we’d find in this shit hole.” After the brothel owner comes to the front porch to thank them one last time, they mount their majestic dinos. They both thank him for the full access he granted them to his finest busty women. The china-man then runs over, and presents them with a laminated scroll. Levon unwraps it to find a map of heavily trafficked areas and roots the china-man travels, in order to bring in prostitutes from across the realm, with low chance of detection. This will prove useful for the heroes on their journey. With that final gift, they ride into the desert wasteland with the town of Charon on their radar, only a day away.
Part way into their wasteland crossing, Levon turns to Axel and says, “Of all the beasts we’ve taken down, that’s the first that had god-damn swords for arms, how is that even possible?”
Axel replies “Yea this world has gone to shit ever since the end of the war, and it’s going to keep getting stranger and stranger from here.”
Levon responds “Tell me about it, I mean if I have to fight these things I should at least not have to fight them while starring at a super-erect boner, that’s just disgusting.”
Axel replies, “I know, but thank Eastwood you had that fresh pair of panties on you, it really brought the plan together.”
The war had been over for eight years now, but our heroes were well versed with the chaos it brought, having grown up in a war-torn environment. It all began when a new world religion started, called The Blood Sons of Christ. These members, called Cultivists, believed they could reincarnate their messiah, Jesus, by taking the Shroud of Turin and cloning themselves a brand new Jesus. The current world powers disagreed with their radical beliefs, and sought to crush them. The Cultivists were forced to retreat to an ice fortress that they had built and somehow set 15 minutes into the future. There, the freak Jesus was born, giving members of the new religion unforeseen powers, making them the unstoppable rulers of the known world. It was nothing but downhill from then on, as the Cultivist began to take control over all the major cities and resources of the realm. Once they had control over the developed lands, The Cultivists then launched an “Inquisition” into the smaller towns and more desolate regions of the world. The goal was to take control of these remote villages, and root out the behaviors and traditions of the “old ways” that these people were still accustom to. This sudden and malicious onslaught demolished these proud people and their cultures, shattering them and creating a divide between those that survived. Some brave souls attempted to fight back, resorting to guerrilla warfare tactics, others gave up and gave in. Since then, the rebel spirit has been snuffed out after a few of their key leaders were killed, leaving all hope for a normal future eradicated.
Levon and Axel are headed toward a yearly appointment with a wise oracle, whom they have trusted over the years. They can’t help but feel like their destinies are somehow tied up in the future of the world. Even though the trip to the oracle is always dangerous, they enjoy every step of the way.
Just before daybreak, our heroes close in towards town. As they reach the outskirts, they take a gander at the town sign. It reads “Welcome to the Town of Charon: Birthplace of The Eagles”. They pause for a moment and Levon asks, “Was that shit about the Eagles there the last time we came?” Axel replies, “I don’t know, but I fucking love the Eagles.” Shrugging off the oddity they move into town, quietly humming the tune “Take It Easy”.
While trying to maneuver through town without attracting too much attention, they suddenly hear what sounded like a screech of a young lady in distress. Axel looks over at Levon and says, “Sounds like it came from the town square, let’s go check it out.” They get to the center of town and notice a ruckus going on at The Dreamweaver Bakery (a local favorite, owned and operated by 1970’s pop sensation Gary Wright and his two ridiculously hot granddaughters). It seems like several local thugs are trying to kidnap one of Wright’s busty granddaughters, probably with the same unscrupulous intentions all kidnappers have when they try and kidnap someone: to rape and bang her. The dirt-bags had dragged her to the center of the street, while kicking and screaming, before Levon and Axel were able to get a good look at her.
They start to take notice of the victim, taking in specific detail. She seemed like a proud women, maybe a fresh twenty-one. She was tastefully dressed in a crisp new pair of the best booty shorts money could buy, with the name of the band “Led Zeppelin” plastered on the back, in white bold letters. She more then met the qualifications that should be present when wearing such shorts, and by that, we mean she had a sweet ass. As for her shirt, it was made from the finest silk and gently tucked into the aforementioned booty shorts. As the men dragged her, it gently flowed back and forth with her long dark curly hair. This impressive shirt was unbuttoned just enough to compliment her bust size, along with an elegant pearl necklace gently draped upon her neck. She was quite tall as far as women go, standing roughly 5′ 10″, with a healthy figure that could be considered desirable by many a man. Her smooth, lightly tanned skin glistened in the early morning light and complimented her freshly manicured fingernails. It was a French manicure, with the classic black and white color combination. She wore a pair of jet-black sling back pumps, which appeared to be approximately a size 7 1/2 women’s. Anyone could tell that this young woman had high standards and did not sleep around. As the light flickered off of her striking green eyes, it was evident that she probably just got off of a bad break-up and was quite lonely, maybe just looking for someone to love real hard, multiple times. The two hypothesized her name was maybe Monica or possibly Wendy. A fine young lass indeed, one of high bangability.
After taking in the finer features of the impressive young lady, Axel and Levon approach the filthy perps, via raptor-back. Noticing the mysterious strangers approaching on bad-ass show-raptors (with papers), the street scum begin to direct their full attention towards them. They begin to taunt Axel and Levon, their asses completely unaware that they were about to be kicked. “Fancy raptors you got there boys, why don’t you come over here and give us a closer look?” said one of the street trash, while the other thugs readied their weapons. Still calmly riding towards the crooks, Axel and Levon decide not to even dirty their weapons on these low life pukes, instead, settling the score with good ol’ fashion fisticuffs. Suddenly, one of the punks charges at Levon, blade first, without notice. Right before he can stick him, Levon knocks his ass out with a swift punch to the dome-piece, then quickly back hands the punk-ass bitch that tried to sneak up behind him. Levon glances over at Axel, surprised to find that his filthy street trash had already been laid out on the dirt. Just then, Levon’s raptor swiftly stretches out its neck to dig its teeth deep into the throat of a perp who stayed back to hold the women hostage, and rip out his windpipe. With the scum cleaned up, Levon hops down from his raptor to help the busty bakery’s granddaughter to her feet.
“Howdy mam, pleased to make your acquaintance,” says Levon.
“My name is Monica, thanks for saving me from that street trash, things aren’t what they used to be around here, with all the gangs and what not,” Monica replies.
Levon simply stares and says, “I like your outfit.”
Monica replies, “Thank you, I have to dress like this due to all the heat from the ovens in my grandfather’s bakery… and what not.”
Levon replies, “I figured as much, what other reason would a lady dress like that, other than for practicality?”
With business on their minds, Levon excuses himself from the busty woman and heads towards their appointment with The Oracle, at his noodle house downtown. With the failing small business in sight, the heroes pick up the pace, eager to see their old friend. Finally outside the familiar noodle house, the heroes dismount their show-raptors and tie them off to a sturdy fence post, setting their MECH-helmets to sleep mode. On the front porch, they recognize The Oracle’s son Steven and his life partner Richard. They are swinging together on a wooden bench, while listening to “In your eyes” by Peter Gabriel.
“How’s it going Steven.” asks Axel.
“It’s Stephan.” Steven very curtly replies.
“Okay then.” replies Axel, as he walks through the saloon-style doors, with Levon following closely behind. Stepping into the noodle house, they quickly became engulfed in a thick cloud of smoke. The rich smell of sweet tobacco and freshly cooked noodle overwhelm their senses. They orient themselves, and then begin searching for The Oracle. They find him in his usual booth, wearing his usual horizontally-striped polo shirt.
“Well, if it isn’t The Oracle Webb.” Levon says.
While motioning to his own beard Axels says, “I like what you got going on with your facial hair there.”
“Yea, we all grown-up.” Exclaims Oracle Webb.
They all exchange a hearty laugh, just like the good old days. Levon, who’s dying for a good fortune telling, cuts to the chase. “Here for our yearly check-up.”
“Please have a seat. Would either of you like a fine mint candy?” Webb asks, as he pushes a bowl of fine mint candies their way.
“No thanks, we brought our own.” Levon says, as he and Axel pull even finer hard candies out of their pockets, and begin swishing them around in their mouths.
“Okay, let’s get started. Unfortunately, my magic 8-ball is broken…so essentially I’m going to have to use my Special John Edwards Edition Ouija Board.” The short plump man pulls the highly collectible Parker Brothers game out from under the table.
“Are you sure that’ll do the trick, fortune-telling wise?” Levon questions the legitimacy of the mass produced, slumber-party style board game.
“Essentially it works the same way, I can assure you that it is quite accurate. Just the other day it revealed to me that my kitty-cat, Ace Freely, would be passing away soon.” Webb points over to a limp-bodied cat, face down in a bowl on a table across the room.
“Well then, let’s get to it…sorry about your cat.” Levon says, clearly not concerned about the cat.
“Don’t worry about it, he used to take shits in my bed.” Webb replies.
The gang all put their hands on the cursor, and then the ceremony begins. The needle moves back and forth from letter to letter and begins to spell out words. The first word is Axel’s, since he won the thumb war.
“Albatross, what’s the significance of that?” Axel says with a puzzled look.
The Oracle, wide-eyed and now with a thick layer of flop sweat below his bright red hair-line says, “I’ll explain in due time, let us now get Levon’s word.”
They focus their attentions back on the board as the second word begins to spell itself out.
“Badminton, what the hell is this shit!?!” Shouts Levon, clearly in an agitated state.
The Oracle then slowly retracts his stumpy, pale fingers off of the board and says “Do you have any idea what this means?”
“Of course we don’t, that’s why we rode across the desert for three damn days on dinosaurs to get here.” Interjects Axel.
“Are youse guys essentially aware of what’s been going on in the capital city for the past few months?” Asks The Oracle.
“Yeah, we heard some shit.” Axel and Levon, at the same time, head nod and glance into each other’s eyes. Showing they knew more than they led on to.
There had been a change in power in the Capital City. Since the Capital City was a refuge during the pre-war apocalypse shit, it became hopelessly over populated. Once the Cultivists placed themselves in the government after the war, they began working overtime to “keep the peace” on the poverty stricken streets. Their idea of this was done through police brutality and oppression. It was rumored that opposition to the new government was met with the same fate as the newborn children of the lower-class…public execution.
“I’m feeling strong ties between both of your destinies, and the fate of the Capital City… and even the entire world! It is my belief that your hidden potentials will come to fruition once you breach the walls of this god-forsaken place, that has now fallen into darkness. Whether it be that you are meant to be a shining beacon of light for the people, or are to be met with certain death, I am essentially unsure. But it is my professional option that, essentially, you must travel north to the capital to meet your fate regardless. Perhaps you’ll meet a fine young French-Canadian woman on the way, they are the most beautiful women in the world, you know.” Oracle Webb awkwardly says as he stuffs his little hands into the pockets of his freshly pressed pleated, 42W 28L, business slacks.
Axel and Levon uncomfortably agree with The Oracle, knowing he has never led them wrong in the past.
“We’ll keep an eye out for that.” Levon responds.
After going over more minor fortunes, they swipe a few fine candies from the community candy bowl, say their goodbyes to their oracle friend, and make for the door.
“I’ll see you in the future…get it, because I’m an oracle.” Webb jokingly says.
“Yea, we get it, it’s just not that funny.” The heroes respond with straight faces.
The Oracle looks down at his chunky dress shoes with a sad-face, as Axel and Levon push open the saloon style doors, breaching into the arid desert heat. To the average man, it would seem the streets were calm, but Axel and Levon were not your “average men”, and they take notice to rustling and the sound of trash cans getting knocked over in the distance. They figured it was more street thugs, coming back to get reparations for their fallen brethren. They calmly remain on the porch of the noodle house, standing still, keeping their wits and collecting their thoughts, as street thugs begin to emerge from dark alleyways and through-sneakways. The dead-beats assemble in the center of the street, showdown style, with their obvious leader in the middle. The heroes exchange a slight shoulder shrug, as Levon lights up a cigarette.
“You fancy boyz think youse can comez intoz my town and have yo raptoz eat my boyz up? Well you got another thing coming!” Shouts out the gang’s leader. He was covered from head to toe in an assortment of sharp, black leather goods and sported a large goatee with a freshly shaven head. A top his head was an all leather army officer’s hat, and a face hugging pair of sunglasses.
Axel and Levon look at each other and ask “Judas Priest?”
“This is my town, birth place of the damn Eagles, and you’re gonna pay for your disrespects. We’re the meanest gang south of the Birmington woods, and we’re gonna put you six feet under… and your damn raptors too!” The gang leader continues shouting.
While Levon slowly reaches for both his whip and his single-action cross-bow, he mutters “They’re show-raptors you mother..f…u…”
Axel quickly cuts Levon off by abruptly motioning his hand toward Levon’s chest, signaling him to ease up.
Axel takes a second to eye up the position of the worthless human trash lining the streets. Then, like a flash of lighting, Axel draws his single-action revolver, wasting the six cronies surrounding the leader with a single shot to the head each. After being stricken with fear, the gang’s leader makes a mad dash away from the show down. Just as he turns to bolt, Levon draws his braided whip (made of fragrant, genuine leather), and wraps it around the neck of the lead singer of Judas Priest. He then yanks the whip back, thrusting the powerless leader through the air, causing him to land on his back right in front of our heroes at the bottom of the porch.
Axel and Levon step down from the porch and start circling the leader, observing his condition. The now helpless and pathetic gang leader begins pleading for his life. ”Please, there’s no need to waste your time on me. I promise I’ll leave this town and never come back. I’m just a limp-dick loser who is of no importance, trust me.”
“Limp-dick is correct.” Exclaims Axel, as he unsheathes his tomahawk, and in a swooping motion takes his dick clean off… but not really that clean. With no interest in holding the male genitalia, he quickly tosses it over his shoulder.
At this point, Levon starts laughing hysterically as the bad guy screeches in pain. Now with blood lust in his eyes, Levon says, “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt much longer.” He draws his elegant dagger and begins hacking away at his neck, throat first. After a moment of blood curdling screams and the sound of gushing blood, Levon emerges with the severed head and playfully tosses it into the middle of the street.
Axel climbs atop the bronzed Don Henley Memorial Statue, located in the town square, to announce to the remaining residents of Charon that they are free from the tyranny of the Judas Priest Gang, as he points out the lifeless, leather and studded corpses that line the streets. Suddenly, the dead streets seem to come alive, as the locals begin to open their doors and poke their heads out of hiding. As this is happening Levon is off to the side, cleaning his blood soaked trusty dagger. He hears a familiar voice calling out to him.
Levon looks up to see the busty baker’s granddaughter, Monica, bra-less, and running toward him in slow motion. As he was drinking in this sight for sore eyes, he also noticed she was carrying a bushel of treats. With Monica fast approaching, with a cool nod Levon says, “Well hey there pretty lady, what ya got in that basket of yours, some tasty treats?”
Monica replies “It’s just a small thank you for saving my life earlier. I figured you were a traveler, so I baked up a bunch of goods for you to take with you on the road. I would hate to see you go hungry…”
“Well that’s mighty kind of you miss, it’s sure appreciated. They smell delicious.” Levon begins to rifle through the assorted baked goods.
“Also, it seemed you were a man of complex sexual desires, who I was instinctively attracted to…so I took these naked photos of myself for you to pleasure yourself with while you’re on the road.” Monica says, while adjusting her sweet-ass titties.
“Thank you.” Levon responds, uncomfortably.
The busty baker’s granddaughter then invites Levon upstairs and pleasures the shit out of him. Axel remains atop the bronze Don Henley Memorial Statue, spitting sunflower seeds, cat-calling at only attractive women, and receiving positive responses back.
“Salt on the lips, there’s nothing sweeter.” Axel says to himself.