Planetary Conquest Tournament: The Cycloids vs Mental's Horde

Author's note: Hello! This is for an ongoing facebook project. In this one, the Cycloids of the Duke Nukem Series fight Mental's Horde, the enemies from the Serious Sam Video games. This also crosses over with various fictional universes so if you are confused just open up and ask me ;) Enjoy!

The planet they fight on is from Ben Ten, so I don't own Ben Ten, Serious Sam or Duke Nukem. I also don't own any other registered characters and I make no profit from this.

Chapter 1: Opening Salvo

On a far distant world in a distant future, fire and iced reigned supreme. Sitting in the void was the planet of the Necrofriggians; harsh and brutal Mykdl'dy. Caught in a stationary orbit, the planet never rotated; locking one side into a permanent volcanic hell and the other into a permanent chill colder than a well digger's belt buckle.

As the camera started to pan in, the fucking TV reception went haywire and the screen was full of static. Behind the TV, a man tried to get the signal back.

"Get me that picture back, now," Ordered Paul Atriedes, leader of the Dune Empire; the infamous Maud'dib. He sat in his throne carved from native Arrakis stone, one equal in size and proportion to the one that his wife Chani sat in.

Stilgar, Paul's foremost military commander and once friend looked to his ruler, "My lord, you should have one of the Ixians get the cable reception; not this infernal Sardaukar heretic," he spat out the last part as a heavily muscular Sardaukar in a Burseg's uniform fiddled with the wires behind Paul's sweet ass plasma screen TV.

"No one pirates cable like Gason!" the disgraced general snarled at Stilgar with more than a touch of undeserved arrogance.

Paul gazed at both Gaston and Stilgar with his blue on blue eyes; his genius mentat mind working through superhuman levels of data. Suddenly, a vision of the future alerted Paul to the next course of actoin he must take. He turned to Gaston, "Leave us, my mother approaches."

Burseg Gaston stood up and bowed to Paul, showing the minimum of respect for the man who'd overthrown the Corrino emperor.

As Gaston walked out, Paul's mother Jessica arrived with a troup of Fedaykin guards, escorting none other than Jim Raynor and Tychus Findlay.

"Let go of me ya fucking rag heads!" Tychus shouted as he was man handled by the fanatical guards.

Paul raised a hand as he appraised the two space rednecks. "Do not kill them yet. Allow them to explain to their god."

"Paul, yeh damn fool!" Jim shouted at the leader of the known universe. "We were just coming by with birthday gifts."

"Yeah," Tychus agreed, "Gifts fit for an emprah."

One of the Fedaykin examined the packages that Jim and Tychus had brought. A brightly wrapped box was opened to reveal a bucket of fried chicken and a jug of cheap bourbon from the deep South. Also there was a Katana and a box of hand grenades in a Walmart bag. "Maud'dib," said the foremost of the Fedaykin, "We should execute these heretics. Burn the heretic and the unbeliever; as you teach."

Paul waved his hand and the Fedaykin backed off. With another such gesture, Paul was left alone with his mother, the two Terrans and Stilgar. Jessica and Stilgar both looked prepared to kill the Terrans but Paul would have none of it. Calmly and without much concern, Paul walked over to the boys and grabbed a deep fried chicken drumstick from the bucket.

Maud'dib smiled in a way he hadn't since he was an innocent youth, "Well boys," he explained as he walked over to his fine high end TV, "I may to kick your butts for the Portal Master's entertainment , but for now, make yourselves comfortable."

With the slightest flick of a wrist, Paul tapped his TV with the drumstick and the reception came back.

"There we go."

Winds whipped the cold side of the planet, temperatures were the least of a life form's concerns in this innermost circle of hell. High velocity winds threw icy shards and with such force that they could slice flesh to ribbons in seconds. Sheltered between twin mountain peaks was a temple of a monastic order of the necrofriggians. The Moth like aliens went about their strange ways, inscrutable to human being and probably most sentients. Honed steel traps were they, harmless if you stayed away, lethal if you so much as touched them the wrong way.

War came to Mykdl'dy, on the frozen side of the world. There in that valley between the twin mountains was a necrofriggian getting ready to go and give birth. In mind the creature had some planet in mind, somewhere with plenty of metal for the offspring to eat. Alas, it was not to be.

Teleporting before the moth alien was an assassin, a humanoid alien in green plate armour with a jet pack. The beast fired a barrage of laser fire from its weapon, however the short windup time of the laser battling gun in the Assault Captain's slimy claw gave the Necrofriggian the chance it needed.

Laser bolts went through the alien's intangible body, it sunk into the ground like en evil spirit. The Assault Captain scanned the bleak terrain with its weapon; its weapon found no sign of the target. If the target went missing then all was lost.

Suddenly, a spray of mist engulfed the assault Captain from behind. The now tangible necrofriggian struck with a cryomancy attack. Frozen solid, the Assault captain fell to the ground and shattered like glass; frozen guts and blood added some pretty colours to the white and grey landscape.

The necrofriggian hissed in seething anger. It had been attacked, and where there was one attacker than there would likely be more. The only course of action would be to warn its asexual brethren and repulse the invaders.

Flashes of teleportation light surrounded the flying necrofriggian; six octabrains pulsed and oozed in the freezing air. The necrofriggian was caught off guard. It lashed with its claws at the two nearest ocatbrains, slashing the flesh balls of Cycloid brain and slime into meat slurry. A spray of icy mist turned the next four into ice balls who now shattered in a way that looked boring.

Alas, a blast of psychic energy stronger than any octabrain struck the tangible necrofriggian. Two tons of octaking floated at a distance from the necrofriggian; the force of its attack powerful enough to blow the 'friggian's right wing clean off. The three gelatinous eyes betrayed no feelings one way or the other as the intended target shrieked in pain and was snatched by gravity.

The lone necrofriggian slammed into the frozen ground but it didn't dare to grab the wound, such was the stoicism of this creature and by extension the rest of its species. Rolling rapidly out of the way, the necrofriggian managed to avoid a second psychic bolt that would have blown off its legs. The moth-alien's compound eyes were full of hate for the stinking, bloated octaking; yet the creature did not launch another attack. Instead, six more hostiles teleported around the wounded alien.

Six assault enforcers covered in dense layers of muscle and armour marched on their wounded prey with the slow deliberation of loan sharks ready to break legs. Their enforcer guns were trained, but they were taken aback by the necrofriggian's agility and ferocity. The moth-man lunged, ripping out one enforcer's heart and freezing two more.

Homing mini rockets form the enforcer's firearms did little but give the wounded alien small and superficial wounds. Another of their number died at the claws and brutality of a necrofriggian.

The fight was not stopped by the enforcers or the necrofriggian but by yet another. A shockwave of electricity ran through the ground, killing the enforcers and stopping the necrofriggian dead in its tracks. The creature fell to the ground with total silence, only the slight twitch of its fingertips differentiated it from the piles of meat around it.

The charge of electricity had done quite a number of the Assault Enforcers, blood ran from their cooked eyeballs and their earholes. A gigantic mechanical foot stepped down and splattered the body of one such enforcer.

Cycloids are biologically incapable of mourning their dead, which is why the Cycloid Emperor (with a capital E) thought nothing of turning a dead comrade into toe cheese or frying their butts in order to incapacitate one good specimen/prisoner/rape victim.

Single eye scanning the prisoner, the Cycloid Emperor transmitted data back to headquarters. A prisoner had been captured and soon the biology of the aliens would be studied in preparation of their eventual sexual enslavement and annihilation.

In the sky, the octaking teleported away. On the ground, the dead bodies of the slain Cycloid troops were teleported away. From behind the Emperor, protozoid slimers slithered towards the prone necrofriggian. The industrious little brutes began to rapidly wrap the 'friggian in a powerfully strong mucus cocoon.

The Cycloid Emperor patiently waited for the protozoids to finish their work; which would not take long.

Then something happened, something that the Cycloid Emperor would never have excepted and indeed would never have though possible.

A new form teleported into the area. It wasn't a necrofriggian and it wasn't a Cycloid either. The Beheaded rocketeer pulled out its rocket pistol and fired. A zombie like groan issued from the vocal synthesizer of the cannon fodder soldier.

The Cycloid Emperor blinked in surprise at the weak, slow moving magical rocket that hit the dense armour plating on its chest. The Rocketeer fired another third and then a third, it didn't even try to run away as the Cycloid Emperor stepped forward and squashed the cyber zombie like a bug.

The Emperor stepped back, but instead of a bloodstain there was only a small pile of ash where the dead soldier had been splattered.

Another teleportation sound issued, and the Emperor spun around to meet the new threat; which was nowhere near as weak as the Beheaded Rocketeer.

An insectile shriek cut through the air right before a hail of bullets slammed into he Cycloid Emperor. The Emperor recoiled briefly, more from shock rather than from pain. Not thirty feet from him was a gigantic scorpion monster with a humanoid torso and chainguns built into its pincers.

The adult Arachnoid emptied its guns into the enemy, more mindless than an Ork and meaner than a Hell's Angel.

Gritting his satanic teeth, the Emperor fired his rocket thrusters and ate up the distance between him and his foe. Servos whirred, hydraulics pumped and hyper-muscle rippled as he reached out and tore the arms right off the Arachnoid warrior.

Mental's heavy soldier shrieked and struck with a stinger, the hypodermic point finding a chinking the armour. But such was the Cycloid Emperor's regeneration and constitution that the potent poison hardly gave him a buzz.

Savagely, the Emperor head butted the Arachnoid, knocking back the eight legged monstrosity. Then with the creature off balance, the Emperor lunged forward with a mechanical claw and crushed the arachnoid's skull like an egg shell, splattering its brains like tomato.

Yet like before, the body of the dead Mental's Horde member started to crumble into dust almost immediately.

The Emperor growled, seething with rage at this unprovoked attack.

His one eye rolled around and found what he was looking for. One captive necrofriggian. Grabbing his captive, the Emperor teleported away, leaving no evidence of a fight. None of the natives in the temple nor on this planet had any idea of the fight that had gone on in the shadow of the twin mountains.

There was no blood, no bodies and nothing . . . except for one techno-magic rocket pistol that hadn't disintigrated through a one in a million mechanical flaw which ruined the self destruct mechanism.

Fire Lord Ozai contemptuously watched the television as he has his servant shut off the first chapter of the war between Cycloids and Mental.

"Gentlemen," Ozai addressed his war council. "As you can see, we the Fire nation face stiff competition from beasts such as these. Creatures who are wacky, mentally unstable and as liable to kill their own units as they are to kill their foes." He continued, "Such enemies are currently beyond our ken, for now," he finished with a little smile which meant he knew more than he was letting on.

A cadre of Fire Nation generals and war ministers nodded in agreement. Uncle Iroh and Zuko merely stood in silence; the former sipping on his fine tea.

"The so called Portal Master is able to control factions who can teleport long distances, possess advanced technology and also have the ability to self destruct both troops and technology. Only by mastering the forces in the Kingdom Conquest Tournament can we expect to become strong enough to defeat the science fiction factions."

"Ozai," Iroh interjected, "We know nothing of the abilities of the fantasy factions, to try and prepare ourselves for a planetary war would be reaching beyond our station."

Ozai merely grinned at his older brother's foolishness. "Timid as ever, Iroh. While some would quibble at having to take on a pair of swarm factions with space capabilities, I have found a way to give us an unfair advantage in the fantasy tournament."

At this, a masked man in a hood and a frightful Noh mask stepped from the shadows. The Fire Nation generals recoiled at the sight of the mysterious intruder. Zuko watched with guarded interest through one scarred eye.

The Fire Lord gestured to his masked ally, "Amon was scouted and recruited by my time travel agents and he has agreed to provide us with troops and technology."

"I demand total control of one half of the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water tribe," Amon's smooth voice purred.

Ozai merely rolled his eyes at Amon's feeble demands, "Of course, you shall have what was promised.

"And you must share my bed tonight."

This made Zuko's eyes widen, then he began to wonder if his hearing was okay. Zuko really began to wonder if his hearing was okay when he heard his father reply to Amon.

"Of course you shall have me tonight, I will bring my best game to the sheets," Ozai assured Amon; as if the Fire Lord whoring himself out to Equalist lunatics was no biggie.

Amon, satisfied with this answer, nodded and took a seat next to Zuko.

"My lord," one general protested, "I thought you had promised control of the Earth Kingdom to Azula? And, uh,um . . . are you really would to lie with this man"?

Ozai scoffed, "I would promise Amon the moon and stars in order to get my hands on his advanced technology. As for my promise, I'm going to pretend I have the flu tonight and make Zuko have sex with him."

"What?" said Amon with a dangerous growl.

"What!" Zuko shouted

Iroh spat out his tea, "Ozai, you asshole. You've crossed a line this time."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Amon hissed.

Ozai spread his hands and shot out a blast of fire, "Enough! I grow weary of this insolence. All who fight with me and bleed for me will be rewarded lavishly. Defeatists and cowards will wind up begging for death. I have spoken!" He finished with a regal shout that rattled the thin wooden doors of the room.

As the chapter of this story came to a close, Amon said to Zuko, "Your father is sexy when he gets that way."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

So who do you think will win! Tune in next week for more exciting stuff!

Ta

Master of the Boot