Future Wyrms

Fred instinctively threw the zombie to the ground and began giving it a kicking it soon wouldn't forget! After some twenty minutes of kicking the undead crap out of the living-dead zombie the Old Mage Bastard yelled: "STOP!"

"What for!??!" yelled Fred right back.

"Because you have just discovered how to kill something that's already dead... look!" Fred looked at what once was a human being, at what once was an undead ghoul, and at what now was a liquified puddle of enzymes, tissues, and a few stray bones.

"Ewwwww," said Fred.

"We should get out of here," said the mage. "There may be more of them around here, it is the mortuary, after all."

As they were walking away from the mortuary, through the graveyard, and towards the exit Fred asked the old wizard, "Why are we here?"

"You tell me, you stupid hero, you decided on the future!"

"But I figured you'd send me into a time closer to my own."

"That wouldn't have helped much," said the warlock. "I mean, I think coming to the year one thousand nine hundred eighty-nine is a much better choice on my part."

"But what about my family? my lands? my King? my wife-to-be Cleo?"

"Oh," said the Old Mage Bastard with a wry smile. "They're long dead and forgotten."

"You BASTARD!" cried out Fred. "Send me back!"

"No can do," said the wizard. "Besides, don't you fret none about your quest... there be wyrms in this time as well!"

Only a few blocks away from Fred, the Mage, and the Arlingknight National Cemetery, Major Locke S. Barril was seated in the experimental WRM Assault Tank. The Federal Department of War had spent millions developing the tactical vehicle and this was the prototype. Major Barril gripped the seat and then placed the neurosensor electrodes to his forehead. He wondered how the electro-processors would interact with his thought patterns. If it did what the eggheads said it would, the Major would be in complete control without having the need for a full complement of soldiers. War Minister Ethan Zarrel and President Arthur Pendragon needed an army of one, so to speak, and this new technology just might make that possible.

The Major thought of the growing tensions between the United Duchies of Allaria and the nation of Dolominium across the Aryn Sea. He spat upon the floor of the WRM as he thought of the dictator Sad Hsssseinminemniennn, the winged freakazoid who wanted the whole world to bow down to him. The major didn't hate the Glider Race simply because they were different, he hated them because they thought they were superior to the Human Race. In his own mind he knew exactly which race was superior. He spat again as he thought of human politics and human foolishnees, he thought of the North Aryn Treaty Organization and the obstructionist members who refused to even give defensive aid to the Red Dolomite Nation, the only Glider nation close to the enemy who has chosen to ally with the UDA. He spat even harder as he thought of The Union of Hespan Republics, and how they are trying to turn everything that the UDA does into a moral outrage against the world. The international stage was not a peaceful one, and far from static.

The Major patted the seat and turned on the electrodes. He hoped that The Wyrm as this prototype has been affectionately christened, can do all that the government had paid for.

1. Holy Past Tense Present Participle!!!

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