Some plans are subtle. They require finesse and absolute precision, and even the slightest waver in the circumstances could shatter everything into the most horrifying scene imaginable.
This wasn't one of those plans. It required no finesse, no precision, and no special equipment beyond the tools needed to kill and to keep yourself standing. It was going to be a big, messy operation from the get-go, and it's these kinds of operations I do my best to keep out of. But it's no telling how much the monster that used to be an Oathbreaker remembers, no telling how much of it's brain has been converted into metal, and which parts still function, and which parts might remember my face and name.
And so I was forced to accompany the Birdman on a helicopter ride with a couple of my colleagues. It was from them that I learned that the Nest was from Australia. How he got to Texas is beyond me, but it explains why I couldn't understand him half of the time he spoke. He wound up talking to our little convoy for much of the ride, neither party saying anything about what they do, how they do it, who they follow, or what they're made of. They talked of other lands, of America, and of the operation. It was almost normal.
We flew over the Camper town, circling it three times to make as much noise as possible before descending in a nice, open section in the center of the small town. The Nest and I dropped out when the helicopter was low enough to drop it's cargo. I landed first, my suit cleanly pressed, my shoes shined to perfection, the dust only just beginning to wear at the crispness. I straightened up and adjusted my jacket, my golden cufflinks shining in the bright southern sun, and the silver head of my cane shining aside them. The standard black tie accented the suit and hat that make up my work clothes. The way I see it, people die every day, so someone has to dress for the occasion. After me the Nest glided down, barefoot and covered in his desert-dweller outfit, a brown rag covering him like some poor Roman from the age of the Caesars. His head, and his short, messy hair, remained uncovered, flanked on either side by his two pet monster vultures. One of them looked at me when he landed and squawked a short accusation at me. The other had eyes only for the crowd of Camper forming around us.
Then our package fell from the helicopter with a dull thud behind us. A domesticated cow, dead for about 12 hours now, tied to the top of an otherwise impeccable washing machine. With this last gift, the helicopter lifted off and left with as much speed as it could muster, leaving us with our gift and an ever increasing crowd of Camper. One spoke up, and all around it echoed its words perfectly.
"What are you doing on our land again? Do you believe that you and the Murder can eliminate us from here? What do you gain from such an action?"
The Nest answered, with the divided voice of its god. "We would eliminate your stain from the sands of this desert, and restore it to its rightful owners. We would drive the subjects of the End from here as well, leaving no competition for the Flock."
The Camper's expressions deepened all at once, their anger showing plainly through the mask that normally covered it. I spoke up to delay the onslaught.
"Now, now, we're not here to fight. At least, not yet. We're waiting for one more guest before we start the party."
"What guest?" Inquired one mind behind a thousand mouths.
"Why, the guest we have so lovingly presented this gift for." I gestured to the washing machine behind me. "I mean, there really isn't much in the way of metal and organic material out here in the desert, so something like this would look rather appetizing to a growing Towerborn, wouldn't you think?"
The look in their eyes was priceless, to tell the absolute truth. It's a shame it lasted for only an instant as they charged us.
It's an even bigger shame that the Towerborn chose THEN to appear, instead of during my painstakingly wrought introduction for it. I guess it arrived in enough time to stop the Camper in their tracks, but it could have been a tad earlier.
In any case, it landed on top of the cow, using the acid-thrower it stole from me to dissolve the skin and get to the "important" parts. Thank God it didn't land on us, that was the biggest worry in making this plan. I turned around to face the feasting Towerborn as the Nest reached into the folds of his garb and pulled apart the skin of his chest, releasing two vultures and a flurry of smaller desert birds into the Camper population. The Towerborn turned to face me, and I stabbed my cane into one of its eyes, breaching a thin layer of glass and optical nerves and machinery to inject it with one of the charges of acid I packed. It reared back and looked as if it was recoiling, but I could see it winding up to attack me with its claws from a mile away. Three steps and I was behind it, one more and I was standing on what used to be its shoulderblades, but which now was a plate of metal covering its still-biological spine. I turned the head of my cane, and stabbed it into an opening at the back of it's head, where a hole had formed between skull and steel, emptying the second charge into its skull before it knew I was on it. In the time it took to raise its arms over its head to attack me, I had switched my footing and emptied the third charge into the first opening in its spine that I could find below its shoulder plating.
I dropped to the ground a second later, prepped the final charge for safety's sake, and listened as the metal monstrosity fell over, it's brain and vertebrae rendered useless. The Convocation had effectively begun thinning out the Camper horde, and all eyes were focused on the flock now. It was in that moment that I made my escape, for there was a part of the plan I don't believe I had informed the Nest about.
From the top of a western dune, I could clearly see the town and the hole the Towerborn had made. I watched as the hole shifted and grew, and as a hand reached out from it. A hundred fingers of flesh and steel fell from the sky and fell on the town, dragging bits of houses and asphalt towards the town center. Then finally, the hand picked up what it had collected, trapping Camper, Convocation, and the body of the Towerborn in its grasp, while filtering out the useless wood, stone, and ceramic it had brought along. Soon the hand disappeared back into the hole, and it closed up, leaving a perfect blue sky overlooking an empty town, destroyed and deserted.
A short phone call ended this assignment. I was quickly picked up by the very same helicopter that I had arrived in, and the clean-up crew was dispatched to sweep the town and to share the news that a freak tornado had touched down and wiped a quiet town off the face of the map. Pity and condolences will be collected for the relatives and never given out, and the whole thing will be forgotten in a week's time.
Oh yes, it was a big, messy operation. I even scuffed my shoes in the chaos. How dreadful.
- Have a Nice Day
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