Review Summary: In a pre-apocalyptic time, when nuclear warfare is rising, the Chosen One will rise up and save the world from the horror that is the KPOM.
What happened that day would change the universe. I had no idea what would happen as Caesar and I were nabbed by the arm and dragged into a room. I looked around: we were secluded in a healing chamber, as it was apparently called, a huge metal circle. As I sat there, waiting for my wounds to finally heal up, a man walked in, wearing all white: the shirt, gloves, pants. The only difference was the short-cropped black hair and black boots. He stepped in.
"Ah, that chamber heals up good, don't it, hermano?", the man snickered as he taunted me. I could not and would not accept that, for I am a Gonzalez. "Now listen, acid man.", he referred to me by my old nickname, when I got my leg slashed by acid live on a television show. A failed assassination attempt. I then looked at him up and down, and recognized him as Marc Storace as Krokus. I raised my eyebrows.
"¿Qué diablos estoy haciendo aquÃ*?", I hissed at him in my old Spanish accent, which I use every time I'm angry.
He smirked, then settled down. "Alright, you jerks, listen very closely.", he said, now serious. I took a look at Caesar. The once bloodied caucasian, with blood that coated his red hair, now looked healthy, touching the unyielding glass. "Alright, ever since I broke up from Krokus, they steadily began to take over the nation. With the release of 'Round 13', they began to accelerate quickly. That were able to invade the British Phonographic Industry, the BPI, and secure every radio station except for two: Pirate Radio and Vault FM. They have taken over every chart company in the world except for the Mainstream Rock Charts, but even Krokus has been hogging #5 on the spot for fourty-seven weeks."
My mouth dropped. I once had to deal with New Kids on the Block taking over the ARIA, but the lost the Great Radio War. "Seriously?", I asked. He nodded. It was almost as if I could read his eyes: Don't screw this up, Guido Gonzalez the Fifth.
Caesar dropped the nice guy routine. "So, what do you want from us?", he said irritably. I trusted Caesar and the rest of the Metal Militia, but if this stud from a rock band thought we could just trust him, like that, he's crazy.
"The re-release of THIS album", he held up an album with an exploding sun on it, which I recognized as Rock the Block, "was the starting point. In 2034, they began to chart everywhere. They would play for weeks on end at the local radio stations. You couldn't hear any other song besides Open Fire, for example. However, they took advantage of the popularity they gained, such as I Want It All becoming the anthem for the UK, and in a few short years, they have completely taken control of every continent. So far, their only rivals are you, the Metal Militia."
"So, what you two are supposed to do is this: you are the Chosen Ones. The Metal Militia is staging an uprising against the Krokus Followers Republic, paired with the Mainstream Rock Charts Association, the MRCA. You will be sent above the Pentagon, infiltrate to the far south side, and destroy the Krokus Preserver of Music, the KPOM, which is the system that Krokus overtook to gain them the power they needed to get them on their way."
"Maldita sea.", Caesar said in spanish, taking the words right out of my mouth. I shook my head. "Where do we begin?"
"You're actually inside the Metal Militia HQ, hermano. Go upstairs and check it out.", Marc explained, pointing upstairs. He pressed an icon on a computer, let us out of the healing chamber, and brought us upstairs. It was the same old song and dance: Black Sabbath did a change of pace that night and was playing Fairies Wear Sandals, and Motorhead playing "Ace of Hearts". Yeah, whatever.
Suddenly, somebody shook my hand. "Hey, glad to see you're awake!", he exclaimed. I took in his features: extremely tanned skin and blue eyes. His black hair was long and barely dangled over his shoulders. He was wearing an I Am Abomination grey shirt with grey pants and brown tennis shoes.
"Hey.... uh, what's your name?", I drawled out, knowing it had to sound extremely stupid. I had seen this guy before, how popular he was amongst the MM, and never figured it out. "My name is Jorge. Jorge Martin", he explained. "And I'M the one who made sure you're alive. You were laying across the dirt, with Caesar shooting his last arrows against the Singaporian Fascist Freebirds - ugh, they names they choose - with you having a pretty nasty gash against your forehead."
Well, at least I could trust him. "When do we go?" As the alarm began to ring, Jorge snatched me by the arm and ran me outside, wearing autumn was just beginning. He then swung me into the hatch after two girl soldiers went inside, which I recognized as the armory. "It's time to invade the Pentagon!", he yelled as we slid down the metal slide. "Grab anything you need and go!", he yelled, assisting a girl soldier with a rocket launcher.
I looked around. Throwing knives, spears, assualt rifles, shotguns, snipers, swords, water canteens, food backpacks, rockets, pistols, and several other weapons that I have no use for. I snatch an AUG HBAR off the wall as Ozzy Osbourne, who looks as drugged out as ever, loads a camouflaged rifle. "I'll be assisting you on the Pentagon invasion!", Jorge yelled. I turned to my left, seeing him with knives in both hands and a PPsh-41 strapped on his back. I followed him into the Motorhead Vehicle Station, which were basically just casual war jeeps we named after the band. There weren't that many, however. I counted the number of vehicles in my head. Only fourteen left. I prayed to myself, "PLEASE, let us be at least fourteen."
We were not. However, we did get a helicopter ride. I began to get inside the helicopter, before the pilot said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Guido. You're at too much of a risk here. You, Jorge, and Caesar ride on the platform." I looked downwards. Below the wheels was, tied to several metal ropes, a platform enough for several people to load on, but enough space for three. I jumped onto the platform, with Caesar loading a sniper tinged in white.
As the hatredcopter (which we unfortunately named after the Dethklok song, dear god) took off, Jorge balanced himself on the ropes, one foot on the platform, his left hand and other foot gripped tightly on the metal, and the right hand balancing his lightweight gun. I realize it's a rudimentary attempt at easy airshooting, which several soldiers were trained for the MM.
After escaping hundreds of projectiles (which turned out to be really rugged Round 13 albums) and one mortar, we parachuted to the Pentagon. At the last second, I throw Caesar a bow. When we enter inside, I see the entire band of Hardline inside. The Gioeli brothers, Neal Schon, and Dean Costronavo. "Hey guys!", Joey Gioeli said, holding two spears. "You just made it. We're almost out of food and water, and the Freebirds and riflemen of the Krokus Followers are just getting in.
We rushed down several floors, taking down various Freebirds and Followers. However, before we reach the elevator, Neal and Joey are taken prisoner. Guns are pointed, but I'm hit with a piece of metal, and Dean is shot. Before Jorge could slice the Follower to bits, the Follower threw Schon and Joey into a pod, which unleashes a spray of razor sharp arrows at them. Before Caesar, who is now our field medic, can reach them, once the pod is stopped, it's too late.
We take the elevator with only a couple of people left: Johnny Gioeli, Caesar and Jorge. Dean's a goner. Once we reach the lab of the South side, we find the KPOM. It's a glowing green orb sending off rays of energy through hundreds of invisible wires. And before we know it, Krokus swoops down from the ceiling, jumping and rolling onto the ground.
"Are you kidding me?", Caesar screeches, firing an incendiary tip at the bassist. He sees it coming and ducks down, but it hits another pod. Caesar grabs me and Johnny and slides to cover, and Jorge knocks down a metal cylinder. The pod hits Fernando, Patrick, and Tony. Johnny screeches a line from "Dr. Love", which dazes Dominique, and Jorge tackles the man to the ground, but gets a nasty shot in the leg from Dominique's Luger.
Jorge tends to his wound. Caesar then snatches the orb, and grabs his knife. "Who's ready to end the war to end all wars?", he exclaims proudly. Johnny smirks and we all nod.
Then suddenly, SLAM! Marc Storace appears out of nowhere, collides into Gioeli, and throws him out the window. Johnny's intense screaming brings me back to reality. "YOU DOUBLE-CROSSING, IGNORANT GILIPOLLAS!", I hissed asshole in Spanish as I grabbed my knife. Marc hurls a knife at Caesar, and it hits the left breast. He doesn't moan, or whimper, he just gives a surprised gasp before passing out. It's Jorge that fires the explosive tip that finally stops Storace's tirade.
Jorge heaves Caesar up over his shoulder, and I present the orb outside on the battlefield. Everybody notices the green glow, and gasps. I hear intense screams of defiance, shock, horror, defeat. I finally stab the orb, giving it all I've got, digging the blade farther into the soft surface. It then explodes, leveling out hundreds of soldiers, and knocks me all the way back into a glass cylinder.
When I awaken, I'm being dragged. I feel awful and there's throbbing pain everywhere. Caesar is also being dragged with Jorge. "Hey! You're awake!", I hear a girl say, I recognize her as Sheila. "Good, we couldn't afford to have you dead."
Although talking is far too much energy, I can't help but say, "Couldn't afford, huh?", which brings spikes of fire to my vocal cords. When I finally have enough energy to stand on the Hatredcopter platform, I make out the commander's face.
"Well, done, soldier!", Commander Ramirez explains proudly. I can just smile. "There's just one more little task to be done, and then your mission will be complete." I raise my eyebrows, I think, as if to say, What?
That's all I remember before the .44 calibers exploded into my stomach.
