# Ch 33. Faux retro Art Deco
After explaining to the anthropomorphic vulpes the punk genre,
the turrets were finally finished.
Z: I have finishe-
J: Yes, I already know! Just let me fire the goddamn things!
Z: You should automate the turrets first.
J: I already did! You know I can just recycle the turret code, right?
J: Anyways, time for some military might.
Jack pushed his BRGAB (Big Red Generic Activation Button).
Upon doing so, the turrets got to vapourising everything that moved.
A few Ridley clones with none of the brains got aggroed,
but they couldn't do much against AA a few kilometres away.
Same goes for the 5-metre giants,
who could neither tank the 30mm nor the 120mm shells.
Back on the rift, everything was covered in acid mist,
as it was being pumped dry for propellant and cooling,
while the floor was caked in salt,
and the turrets expelled enough nitric acid to
make the weather almost as bad as London's.
Whatever machine relied on that stream was
probably giving its owners a heart attack.
Fortunately, and thanks to SCIENCE & ENGINEERING™,
the turrets were adequately supplied and cooled,
so they could keep firing until it satisfied Jack's mood.
After a few minutes, fifty-foot giants appeared from the mountains.
The foxes, who had already gotten back to the Bradley, got to see.
F5: Oh shit!
F2: Ew! Those are way too many feet!
J: REVERSE THE POLARITY OF THE FLUX CAPACITOR!
FIRE THE MAIN CANNONS! REDIRECT ALL POWER TO MAIN ENGINES!
Z: Only once of those those statements made sense,
and they were already doing that.
The XL giants with supernumerary feet approached them at incredible speeds,
but even if the rounds were of mere steel,
they couldn't resist the might of 30+120MM STOPPING POWAH,
9 MILLIMEME NEED NOT APPLY. That and the US's daily ammo budget.
F4 opened his eyes.
F4: W-we didn't die?
J: Of course not, you silly!
Z: That was harder than expected though,
so I will have to improve the weaponry.
F4: May we cross the border now? I don't like this place.
J: Yeah, yeah, but first, let me destroy the evidence.
The turret battery exploded, leaving only huge holes and mountains of salt.
F3: Was that really necessary?
Z: No.
J: YES!
G: I mean, we can't leave a whole armoury,
but he could have just turned the turrets into slurry.
J: Recycling boring. Explosions good.
Now let's see if there's food on the other side.
Guy grabbed Jack's hand before he could floor it.
G: At least let them hold on before accelerating!
G: Has everyone latched on?
F6: I think so-
Jack used his other hand. F6 slipped and hit the walls.
F6: Ow.
J: Five out of six, rather acceptable.
G: You were capable of making it six!
J: That'll teach her pain tolerance, isn't that right, Freya?
F6: Uh, I guess...
G: You could try to stand up for yourself, you know?
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F6: I don't really care. You are nice enough most of the time.
F4: Uhhh, nice!?
F6: Actually, can I have a cookie?
Z: Asking again will not make them appear.
F6: But it's what I like...
J: What you like is boring and unhealthy.
F6: Why can't I like cookies?
J: It's not that you like cookies (but also that),
it's that you don't try anything else!
F6: But I...
J: Don't think that I can't see what you have been thinking,
every minute of the day dreaming about eating and sleeping!
J: If we didn't order you to do anything, you would be no more than an animal!
F1: That is one great disappointment for master.
J: SHUT THE FUCK UP I DIDN'T ASK YOUR OPINION BOOTLICKER.
F1: ...
F6: ...Can't I-
J: This world has no space for those that don't pull their own weight.
Never has and never will.
So you better get off your ass and find something better to aspire.
F5: Oof, I'm glad I got 'C'.
F4: Yeah...
F6 laid her head on F2's lap.
F2: W-wait, why me!?
F6: ...
F2: Uhhh, everything is going to be alright, alright? Just think it through,
F2 stroked her endowed body (courtesy of Jack),
accidentally passing by her crotch.
F6: Could you just... Rub it in there?
G: Please don't.
J: I don't mind.
Z: I don't mind.
F6: Pwetty pweease?
F2: *sigh* I can't say no to that.
After a trampling several bodies, they crossed the border.
To the other side, thick deciduous forest,
surrounding improbably dense cities with art deco buildings.
J: Hold on, is that what I think it is!?
Z: It's hard to see.
J: Stop right here! Get the fucking telescope!
F3: I don't think that we have a telescope.
F1: We do have binoculars though.
J: That's enough, stop yapping!
The Bradley got a hundred kilowatt laser- I mean, hundred inch telescope.
Guy added a few screens inside for the foxes.
Jack observed the art deco in all of its chiseled glory.
J: THE FUCKIN FGHRRS! URRGH!
F2: Wha-?
J: FFFFGRAAHHHH!
The psycho bunny lit up in flames.
Must have been polyester.
J: *Extreme, superhuman anger noises*
G: Oh shit! Take away the stuff!
Jack spasmed uncontrollably,
streaming plasma through every organ susceptible to to high blood pressure.
even the sound of his everything cracking
under the strain sounded like explosions.
F4 rapidly jumped on top of F2 and F6 and hugged them tightly to feel safer.
F5: THEY'RE JUST SOME BUILDINGS, WHAT THE FUCK!?
The world's slime quivered, rocking the Bradley.
A great evil had been unleashed. The uneven digits joined the group hug.
F1: Master! P-please calm down!
Jack's EXTREME ANGER caused his body to compress into a one-millimetre,
glowing white ball. After that, the screaming and kicking died down.
G: Uh, did he just turn into a miniature sun?
Zack put an aquarium on top of the ball,
so it vapourised its floor and started to cool down.
G: Sorry for that. I didn't know it would happen at all.
Z: Me neither.
The foxes just stared at them (the eyes looking through the wall) like idiots.
G: Did I already say that he's not very stable?
Z: He did talk about it that one time though.
G: I thought it was a joke!
G: Anyways, sorry again.
Just like Orbeez™,
Jack's body recovered upon cooling down
and absorbing copious amounts of water.
J: Ughhh...
Z: He is back up.
F3: Have those buildings harmed you in some way?
J: ...
F4: I don't think that you should provoke him like that.
J: Yes! I mean, No! It's just...
F3: Go on.
J: It's the fucking irony of it all! People are doing kinda well off,
so the rich make an overcooked art style to celebrate,
but even after getting constantly stomped,
the plebs just can't stop getting their hands on it!
So they go and say: "Art Deco is no longer chic, EAT GRAY CONCRETE!"
AND THEY FUCKING FALL FOR IT!
G: I think that you're looking way too much into this.
J: B-BUT THEN! THEY KEEP THE BUILDINGS!
BECAUSE ART DECO IS PROGRESS, GUYS!
J: ...I have seen enough of this.
The fact that it's here just makes it go full circle.
I'll be unavailable for today.
Jack left.
Note to self: Do not expose Jack to pretentious art.