Dunestorm Myth
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The Hegemon
The year was 20,001 AB. Deep into the glory years of the High Waifurian Empire, the Mummy's vile fingers tainted all corners of the galaxy. From the most desolate rocks to the most advanced civilizations, the Waifurian Empire reigned supreme- their authority was unquestionable. Fleets of Greenspill-powered Gigafrigates patrolled terrestrial orbits from star to shining star, and the Waifurian Dollar had become a universally adopted currency- although, in many cases, was adopted through force- as entire systems bent their knees to Mummy and his rotten Waifurian Astronomical Trade Organization (WATO) Council of allied (Satellite) states.
The MTO, once a liberation force renowned around the Milky Way for their incredible victory against the Combine during the Great META War, had become imperialist drones of the Waifurian Imperial Authority, obeying any and all direct orders from their superiors, no matter how unethical, no matter how gruesome. Spiritual, lyrical war hero and musician Rick Hernia had long since become disillusioned with the Waifurian Empire's bloody campaign of conquest across the galaxy, and had been in a self-exile for the better part of 700 years, ever since the unfortunately-fated Obliteration of Wan'arra, which he personally oversaw. In Rick's stead, five-minded synthetic military genius, Raxus Milluk, had taken the reigns as General of the Waifurian Imperial Army. And things had gone swimmingly, for the most part. Raxus had continued Rick's campaign of 'civilizing' foreign planets, bringing them all under the Waifurian Crown-- and even found the time to play mobile games on his phone whilst bombarding and slaughtering belligerents.
Keith Cumshoes Life Update
Keith Cumshoes, Rick Hernia's Co-Producer and second-in-command, had recently retired to a life of blunt-rolling and sex-having in the Temple of Rannjoe on Ghetsin 3. After his demotion following his role in the Obliteration of Wan'arra, Keith had served as Mummy's Personal Royal Grandiose Imperial Disc Jockey for several centuries, but eventually grew tired of remixing 'Ring Around the Rosie' for eight hours a day, five days a week.
Keith, then, travelled to Ghetsin 3 to smoke pot with Francis Merrigold and Millings, doing his best to be sober for as few hours as physically possible, and complaining of 'Legume Headaches' which only intensified during the Warshippers' scheduled time with the Legume (Unrequested). Keith's connection to the Legume, despite his proximity to the sacred artifact, only weakened during this time. One day, Keith was growing particularly frustrated with his inability to roll a blunt with Legumish Particulums, when a metallic knock exploded against the door. Millings, that rotten thing, scampered away, and Keith stood, rubbing his eyes, brandishing his starmetal katana.
Keith opened the door, and found something Truly Rotten Indeed; a hologram of Waifurian Emperor Joseph Robinette Biden, grinning vapidly with an ice cream cone in his hand.
"You got a second, Jack?" Mummy asked, and Keith rolled his eyes.
"Of course, your imperiousness," he said, beckoning the hologram inside. It scampered in, projected from a disc-shaped floor mount, and Mummy's image stood in the Temple of Rannjoe's foyer, observing his surroundings.
"You know what today is, big guy, Kevin?" Mummy asked. Keith frowned, shaking his head.
"It's the first of the year, folk. The first of the year of our Lord 20,001 AB. Which means-- you know what it means?"
Keith clenched his fist, images of the Glue Factory Incident boiling up inside of his skull.
"It means it's my--" Mummy looked off-camera, furrowing his brow, and then looked down again at his fingers, drooling. He counted them- for an exceedingly long time- before his rotten head shot back up and he flashed a denture-grin at Keith Cumshoes.
"It's my 20,000th year ruling, jack. And look, son, we've got a little celebration- a thing, if you will, on Earth. I want you to come back. Come back and DJ. Play that one song... Ring around the Roses. Or whatever."
Keith scratched his head.
"Yeah, I'll have to pass."
Mummy frowned.
"Now, look here, fat. You don't get to pass."
"Yeah, I do," Keith replied, flipping the bird at Mummy. This brought a sorrowful tear to Mummy's eye.
"No," Mummy said, simply, and the hologram dissipated. The door exploded down and two Superpredators entered, wielding starplasma tridents, and grabbed Keith by each of his arms.
"You will return for the Anniversary," they said in unision. Keith sighed, putting his katana in his sheath.
"I suppose I will," he said, glumly.
Mummy's Rotten Celebration
Mummy was in for quite a treat. His Advisors, along with Raxus Milluk, orchestrated a grand "20,000 years of Biden" Anniversary celebration. "Here's to 20,000 more!", read one banner, which would prove unfortunately prophetical. Robed in his ancient, illustrious Coronation Robes, Mummy presented a rotten speech, which put 90% of the audience to sleep because of how rotten it was. The Joseph R. Biden Imperial Anniversary Celebration was held in Albuquerque New Mexico. A reenactment of the Glue Factory Incident was performed at the Kamala Harris Memorial Theatre in downtown Albuquerque, in which an actor playing Donald J. Trump dove headfirst into a Glue Vat, actually committing suicide, which was somewhat of an 'artisitic interpretation' of the truth. (this was a gross misrepresentation of the Glue Factory Incident).
Keith Cumshoes, needless to say, was rather revolted at the whole performance, and elected to sit that one out, taking a seat on a nearby sand dune and peering out at the Albuquerque Sunset. And good for him that he was nowhere near that theatre, because his father, The G-Man, had chosen to portray himself in the play, and seriously injured the actor playing Keith with a butterball turkey, shutting the whole performance down.
One Last Mission
As the dusty Albuquerque wind, rife with couch particulums and Chairzoggish Lumenquarks, rolled over the Sandy dunes on the cities exterior, Keith Cumshoes closed his eyes, meditating. It wasn't long before he heard the clanking of metal armor behind him; and the popping of artificial candies on a mobile phone. Raxus Milluk held a gold-wrapped joint out to Keith, his armor shimmering in the evening sky.
“Gonna be a hot one tomorrow,” Raxus commented, lighting the blunt. Keith nodded, eyes shut, breathing deeply.
“Raxus."
The General passed the roll to Keith.
“From Fargo's collection,” said Raxus. Keith nodded and puffed a cloud of smoke into the smoldering morning air.
"What is it?"
"Cannabis Bilbius."
"I can tell."
A silence fell between the two heroes; the sun dipped below the horizon.
"I'm not here to DJ, am I, Raxus?" Keith sighed, turning to the General. Raxus made no movement, his visor emotionless.
"We need you, Commander," Raxus said, taking the blunt from Keith. He held it to his visor, and smoke steamed out of the chinks in his armor. "The Empire is in grave danger."
Keith stood up, wiping the sand from his trousers.
"Just take me to the situation room already," he grumbled.
Raxus hailed the Joe Biden Removal Device, which expeditiously arrived, albeit without the Rotter Himself (who was busy eating Tofu Ice Cream upside down in his throne). The miniscule machine ducked and weaved between street vendors and anomolous objects, such as a massive golden foot sticking out of the ruins of Southwestern Dental, and a diamond-encrusted asteroid in the middle of City Park. The Joe Biden Removal Device reached a high speed and lept off of the road and onto the side of a skyscraper, tearing upward across the glass, into the hazy cloud cover above. It shot up over the tower's peak and revealed a hulking, gold-plated blimp- the fabled Pangean Grand Zeppelin in fact, which Mummy had converted into a mobile base-of-operations.
They passed through eighteen airlocks, in a rather tedious and annoying process which only the Rotter wouldn't have minded, before entering a highly-sophisticated windowless room, filled with supercomputers and military androids, as well as Greenspill Technology coursing through the walls. Raxus wasted no time pulling up a classified file to the holomonitor, and entered his personal clearance code to unlock it.
"This was at Fort Dunestorm on Septigia," Raxus said, leaning back and crossing his arms. The lights in the room dimmed as Keith's eyes adjusted to the light; security footage filled the monitor. The dark plains of the pulsar-orbiting planet were occassionally illuminated with a searing, blinding white; but other than that, the surface was normal. MTO soldiers wore ultra-solar-resistant suits of armor and visors, running about the base in low gravity.
"Dunestorm hasn't been decomissioned?" Keith frowned, "It was scheduled to be demolished nearly a millenium ago. Remember? We promised the Combine- no more surveillance."
Raxus nodded. "We did suggest a de-escalation of surveillance measures, yes. However, the Emperor feels that the fortress maintains a certain... strategic value."
Keith shook his head. "I'm sure they're not very happy about this-"
Raxus whistled. "Pay attention, Keith."
The video footage was still, for a moment. Then a hooded figure, wielding a dark blade, emerged from the shadows. None of the MTO soldiers seemed to notice. Several Superpredators stood watch at the Fortress Gates; they, too, paid no mind to the figure. The cloaked figure attacked, suddenly, with a lethal precision, beheading two soldiers in one go. The rest of the deployment didn't last much longer.
"This was two days ago," Raxus said, shutting the video off, "We haven't heard anything from Dunestorm HQ since."
Keith stroked his chin.
"This individual is powerful," he said, after a moment, the blunt finally hitting, "That sucks, man."
Raxus' visor remained trained on Keith.
"When's the last time you heard from Director Phovus, Keith?" asked Raxus, his body rigid.
Keith cocked an eyebrow.
"I mean- we're far from best friends, General. It's been a few centuries, at least."
Raxus didn't move a muscle.
"Is that so?" he asked.
Keith nodded.
Raxus turned away, and Keith heard Raxus' brains sloshing against one another inside the former's helmet. It was an unseemly sound. After a moment, Raxus turned back toward Keith.
"The Waifurian Bureau of Investigations has several suspects linked to this case, at the moment, Commander Cumshoes. And I'm afraid that you're one of them."
Two Superpredators emerged from behind closed doors with plasma cuffs, approaching Keith.
"What??" Keith exclaimed, outraged, "You can't do this to me! I've been on Ghetsin for the last ten years- I mean, ask Francis Merrigold! Ask Supreme Warshipper Francis Merrigold, he'll tell you. I promise. I swear!"
Raxus shrugged.
"I don't suspect you, Keith," he said, sympathy in his voice, "But I'm afraid the WIB does."
The Inspection
The Imperial Investigator Arrived at the holding cell with an entourage of MTO soldiers- wearing the very same uniform Keith had once donned. Inspector Ellis, the Investigator's name was, and he was a skeletal, shuddering thing, more machine than man, who wheezed and groaned with every step and who seemed as if he was about to burst at the seams. He paused in front of Keith's cell, observing the blue-skinned hero, staring at Keith for a good 20 seconds in silence.
"Let me in," Ellis finally wheezed, and the plasma screen door slid upward.
"Cumshoes, Keith," whirred Ellis, "Born in West Valley, New York, to a Mrs. 6 Sepitigia... ahh, and what's this? A rogue G-Man variant. Very interesting. Very Interesting, indeed. Thank you for your service in the war, Mr. Cumshoes. Credit where credit is due. But..." Ellis paused, his neck snapping out of place, and then back in, "Well, this is quite a track record you've got on you, Commander. Quite a track record, indeed... heh."
Keith gazed at the crumpled hunk of metal in front of him.
"Thanks," replied Keith.
"So, Commander, as you may know, I have been assigned by the WIB to investigate all possible suspects of this... terrible, terrible crime committed on Waifurian Soil this past weekend. Such a tragedy, indeed. And on the 20,000th anniversary of our Emperor's Ascendancy..." Ellis paused for a moment, gears whining in his head, "What a strange coincidence," he commented.
"Pretty odd," agreed Keith, "But Septigia's not Waifurian Soil. That's intergalactic space, buddy."
Ellis cackled.
"Ah, how insightful, young one," wheezed the Inspector, "And yet... Dunestorm base is Waifurian territory in Intergalactic space, no? As per Section 8 of the the Lagos Accords?"
"If you respect that old thing," Keith scoffed.
Ellis giggled whimsically.
"So humorous, child. So much life behind those eyes..." Ellis clicked a metallic tongue, "It's remarkable, really, Commander. After all that you've been through..."
Keith frowned.
"Did you detain Director Phovus?" he wondered aloud, "I mean, that would be truly, truly ballsy if you did. Considering how easily he turned on the Combine, and all. What'd you do, walk right into Black Mesa and drag him out?"
Ellis had no reaction to this.
"The Director swore his allegiance to Waifuria, same as you. I have no reason to suspect either of you would turn against your Emperor." a pause, " well, I had no reason to suspect so, until today..." he clicked his tongue again, the sound echoing through the cell.
"I understand you have a bit of a checkered past when it comes to the Emperor, Mr. Cumshoes," Ellis wheezed, "I understand that, aside from our Emperor, you were one of only two parties to walk in, and then out, of the Glue Factory on that day 20,000 years ago. The other party being, of course..." Ellis leaned in, his hydraulic breath reeking in Keith's face, "...your dear old Pop."
Keith felt his blood boiling.
"Inspector," he managed coolly, "My familial affairs are rather personal, and I'd like them to stay that way. Although my father and I had a bit of a disagreement that day, it was entirely unrelated to the Emperor. In fact, I didn't even realize his Imperiousness been there until days later."
Ellis nodded.
"Understood."
Keith pursed his lips.
"Anything else, Inspector?"
Ellis nodded, waving Keith away.
"Yes, I do have one other question, Commander," Ellis whispered, leaning in close to Keith, "Is Rick Hernia dead yet?"
Keith recoiled.
"What?"
Ellis' metallic lips contorted into a smile.
"I am only making a joke, my dear Friend. I am only making a joke. But, in all seriousness, the Emperor was rather hoping to get Rick back for the 20,000th Banquet. So-- ah, forgive me, I must ask. do you see him?"
"Ocassionally," Keith lied.
"Excellent, well--" Ellis fidgeted around in his pocket, revealing a sealed invitation with Mummy's face printed on the front of it.
"When you see your friend, relay these words-- The Empire needs its Hero back."
Keith nodded his head, feeling a twinge of relief. That's it. He took the card in his hand.
"Inspector?" Keith asked, "Might I ask-- who does the Empire suspect is behind this?"
Ellis cackled.
"Our Best Intelligence Agent speculates that the Combine Empire is to blame..." Ellis seemed to take glee in relaying this information, " we have been tracking their movements for quite some time, now. The C.O.C.K. has been amassing huge fleets, according to our Best Intelligence Agent. In preparation, the Mexican Portal has been encased in Titanium; but I'm afraid even that may not prevent their return."
Keith's heart sunk. A 2nd Great META War would be disastrous.
"So, Inspector," Keith began, "Am I free to go?"
Ellis examined him, for a second, and sneered. "Oh no, Commander, do not rest easy," Ellis' tone shifted to one of callousness, "I know one of you two aliens did it. The only question now..." air hissed from his joints, "is who?"
Ellis giggled to himself, shambling out of the cell, and the laser door zapped back into place.
"Pack your things, Commander," Ellis peered back into the cell, "You're going on a trip. And you're bringing a friend."
Keith's cell wall fell away; revealing the Director of the Black Mesa Research Facility, the Khorian Defector Phovus, bound in handcuffs, sitting glumly on a bench. He waved half-heartedly to Keith.
The Dunestorm Myth
Keith sat across from Director Phovus, his cuffed hands on his knees, staring out the window as stars streaked by. The two had not spoken for the entirety of several hours; apart from mere pleasantries, but now, as the ship exited hyperspace, Phovus turned to Keith and spoke.
"You named this planet," Phovus stated, looking out at the crescent-planet before them.
"I did," replied Keith.
"Why Septigia?" asked the Director, his gaze trained on Keith.
"My Mother's maiden name was Septigia," Keith explained, "She was a fierce warrior queen. Her name was 6."
"Ah. 6. What an interesting name." Phovus sighed, "My mother died when I was young. I never thought to name a planet after her. How did you come to that decision?"
"It felt right," Keith shifted, uncomfortably. "It just felt right."
"What about it felt right?" pushed Phovus.
"I don't know, man," Keith replied, "I don't know. We just, saved the planet from Combine-adjacent rule, and so, I told General Hernia I wanted to name it after her. And he agreed. So we did."
"Combine-adjacent?" Phovus inquired, "What do you define as 'Combine-Adjacent', commander? I was once a servant of Xos; am I Combine-Adjacent?"
"It was a Combine satellite state. It was so obviously a Combine satellite state. I mean, the Queen of the planet was buying massive quantites of military weaponry from Ferinah; and just, burying them underground. It was fucking nuts."
Keith procured a joint from an unknown location, lit it with his starmetal katana (with great difficulty, through the handcuffs,) and took a big hit. "Anyways, They'd held onto Septigia since the first Great META War; and it was time for the Combine to get out of our galaxy. So, Rick, and I, we went it, with a few ships. And actually, Director- thanks to your work- we had one of the first Dissonance Energy battleships in that fleet."
"Ah... did you..." Phovus replied, hollowly.
"Yeah. We did. And it ended up winning the battle for us. I mean, we ran circles around the Combine forces here. And that ship with the Dissonance Energy- you remember the one? The W.S. Sikalyon, you called it."
"I remember it well." Phovus quipped.
"The shields on it were absolutely invincible. Incredible work, Director. Incredible work. Anyways- the Combine was practically defenseless; they probably thought we'd forgotten about Septigia. Well, we didn't forget," Keith offered the roll to Phovus, who politely declined. "So, we went it, had a few days of Orbital Bombardment, and then that was it. It was ours."
The Waifurian shuttle had entered the Septigian atmosphere, now, and the Superpredators in the pilot's seats chattered to themselves in binary. Snowsand blizzards in the upper atmosphere screamed against the cabin windows.
"It's not yours," Phovus replied, "It's never ours. And you know that, Commander, deep down. We all know the truth."
Keith cocked an eyebrow.
"The truth?"
Phovus turned to Keith, stiff.
"You know, I'm not a soldier by trade, Commander," he said, "I've commanded battles and fought galactic wars. But it's not what I am."
Keith shrugged.
"Me neither. I'm a musician."
The ship rocked back and forth.
"Who would've thought," Phovus mumbled to himself, "A travelling musician committing genocide."
"What?" Keith swore he must've misheard the Director.
"Nothing." replied Phovus, "It's all nothing."
The Dunestorm Myth
The ship set down atop a dark blue dune. The air was still outside; the storm had only existed above. The Superpredators deactivated the two's handcuffs, and stepped aside, beckoning Keith and Phovus out into the dunes. They handed Keith and Phovus each a small communication device.
"When one of you decides to admit guilt, press this button to page the Inspector. We will return for you then."