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(Phase 2? You're going to use the cube to make weapons?)

(As for a list of characters… That's gonna take a while…)

(You'll know when things clear up. There's only a few more segments left.)

(Art-wise, Blütgrindor, Rhajamaut, Carmilla and Perifonos are finished, but I'd prefer to finish the rest of the "main group" before putting them all together and sending it to you. Illexander is next. May or may not take breaks to draw something unrelated in between reference portraits.)

(That's fine. Those characters are going to be used in a lot of shitposts, so take as much time as you want with them.)

(As for Phase 2, did you really think this was going to be a conventional war?)

(This is just the reconnaissance period before they are subjected to the same levels of shenanigans that in-universe you has to deal with all the time.)

(Blütgrindor will either die of a rage-induced aneurysm or they will surrender.)

(These are the only two outcomes.)

("You underestimate my power!" Screams an angry messy-haired 20-something with a scar over their eye that can't keep their pants zipped while wielding a super-sci-fi sword as part of their job working as an enforcer for a funky religion whose main headquarters in a massive futuristic city full of flying cars and also watched their mother die right in front of them, permanently affecting their outlook on the world and will get brutally disfigured and revived as a hideous mechanical monstrosity.)

(Huh, I didn't realize how much in common Blütgrindor had with Anakin Skywalker. Well, one thing's for sure: The high ground won't save you from Blütgrindor. She also isn't a physically abusive spouse. Physically.)

(Also, what made you think that I didn't think that this wasn't a conventional war? I've been turning dead people from alternate dimensions into off-brand transformers that live in pocket dimensions, there was nothing normal about this war to begin with.)

(Mwhahahahahahahahaha!!!)

(Tôi hy vọng cô ấy ác quỷ có khiếu hài hước)

(Does laughing at someone she just mortally wounded as they bleed out, the last hing they ever see being their home, friends and family being burnt and destroyed count as a sense of humor? If not you'll be disappointed.)

What's the punchline?
Something that dark needs a good punchline like : " I feel really silly after wasting all that money on my IRA"

(She probably has TBI, with symptoms including emotional instability, apathy, irritability, inability to control anger, radical changes in personality and very pronounced inappropriate sexual behavior. That's the punchline. Her mind is FUBAR and only constant depraved violence and profane debauchery can keep her entertained.)

(She's truly gone fishing, toys in the attic, screw loose, bats in the belfry, lost her marbles, a fruitcake, she literally, physically went off of the deep end and her mind followed. The lights are on, but you'd rather nobody be home.)

(Need I remind that a previous post here states that Blütgrindor is not allowed to handle Nuclear weapons, despite all the other Shirleyists being in the A-OK to hold a juggling competition with them if they wanted to? She's not playing with a full deck of cards, even after she rigged the deck.)

(Oh, I see.)

(We're basically dealing with the two extremes of madness here.)

(On the one hand, we have miss sour-pants who's pissed at everything and snaps spontaneously, lashing out at everything in reach as that's the only way her shattered mind can deal with the constant feeling of hostility she gets from the world in general.)

(Then we have a group of people so detached from reality that they operate on their own logic and see nothing wrong with how strange their actions appear to other people.)

(Why is there a leaking nuclear reactor in the bathroom?)

(Why have you turned a potato into a hand grenade?)

(Kaijin's a mother now? Oh that's nice…wait, what!?)

(And the answer to all of the above questions is being pelted with a bag full of shallots.)

(I now see the path that we must eventually take.)

(Abusing our power to resurrect, we will give her comforting hugs, listen to her woes and offer sympathetic tea and biscuits until her broken mind is healed.)

(…)

(Either that or we just bind her up and have Olors talk to her until she chills out and starts acting more reasonable.)

(He has a very soothing voice.)

(I don't think Olors can help, especially since he's developed a permanently negative reputation in the eyes of the entirety of Undefinable Revelation.)

(And honestly, I was considering throwing in some moments of a somewhat nicer, and more caring Blütgrindor, but they'd be exclusively limited to interactions between her and Rhajamaut, Carmilla, Illexander, Leonidius, Elysium, Jaquobeain and her children. She doesn't do a complete 180 around them, but she would say, actually act like someone who's capable of compassion instead of a personification of hatred and violence. Rhajamaut fanatically worships her, Jaquobeain is her most loyal servant and Illexander, Carmilla, Leonidius and Elysium are her family. They're probably the only people she would actively want to interact with and everyone else is a pest wasting her time and should run for their lives before she turns their innards into out-ards.)

Blütgrindor and her underlings arrived in the swamp, the water was a reddish-orange color and bubbled and sizzled as it boiled beneath the mounds of mud, from which ragged, twisting trees with bark that was nearly black in color towered, thorny moss dropping from their jagged, leafless limbs. The stench of sulfur and a metallic scent wafted from the burning waters and into the sky above as swamp gas rose from beneath the acidic waters.

A Shitbot Portal opened and the Shitbots that came through it immediately plummeted into the water below, instantly melted and dissolving as the swap gas got sucked into the portal and ignited, causing the portal to suddenly close, cutting the last few Shitbots trying to pass through it in half before they, too fell into the swamp's overly acidic waters.

"They're more foolish than I thought!" Blütgrindor cackled as she watched the fate of the invaders from the treetops. Rhajamaut joined in on the laughter and they then proceeded to journey further into the swamp. Coming to one of the metal piers required to cross over the larger pools of bog filth, the group immediately stopped and began to survey around them. Illexander launched Charlottain from his breastplate in order to inspect the environment more thoroughly.

"Ugh, this place is disgusting!" Charlottain complained as she began to climb underneath the pier to inspect the supports for any sign of sabotage. Climbing back up through a gap in the warped metal floorboards, she verified that the pier was structurally sound before the group crossed it.

Suddenly a group of Shitbot Flier Drones appeared over top of them and began firing on the pier. Quickly running to the other end of the pier, Blütgrindor and her underlings returned fire. One of the Shitbots was hit and crashed right into the putrid waters, igniting the methane bubbling from it as sending a wave of flames across the surface of the water.

"Damn, this place is worse than I remember!" Nialeroz yelled as he downed two of the Shitbot Flier Drones.

The fire quickly dissipated until only a couple jets of methane remained alight. Blütgrindor shrieked in rage before turning to her dragon form and ascending to mutilate the Shitbots with her bare hands.

Lunging at and grabbing one of them she crushed it's head in one of her claws. She sped towards another and slashed it's engines so it fell into the swamp and was dissolved by it. The last one she charged straight towards until she clipped it's engines, causing it to crash into one of the trees. The Shitbot huddled and tried to hide among the twisting and barren branches, hoping that she would consider it dead and leave.

Suddenly a blade stabbed right through the thicket of branches, impaling the Shitbot and pulling it up into the air. With the Shitbot stabbed onto her tail, Blütgrindor spun around and slung the invader head-first into the tree's trunk, shattering it as if it were made of porcelain.

"Let's keep going, it's not too far ahead." Blütgrindor said as she returned to the ground and her Undefinable form.

Arriving at another area mostly comprised of piers above bubbling pools of acidic water contaminated by impossible amounts of dissolved metals, the group stopped and watched as a small group of Shitbot Drones, with one Shitbot Brawler Drone among them. Noticing a control panel on the far side of the clearing, an evil grin cut it's way through Blütgrindor's cheeks and almost to her ears.

"Wait here." She ordered as she crawled under the piers and began climbing underneath them to the other side. With only a flimsy, rusting metal floor between her and the invaders, she silently moved through the supports and beams. Ascending behind the control panel, she placed her skeletal claw onto it as it began to glow, attracting the Shitbots' attention, but before they could retaliate, the piers began wobbling.

Suddenly the piers began lowering and sinking into the swamp as it's waters bubbled around their supports. The Circle Cultists scrambled for stable ground, but found themselves too late as the piers went under and their ankles, then their knees, then their waists, then their heads were eroded and turned to dissolved particulates by the mire.

Afterwards, a different set of piers arose from the reddish-orange depths and made the swamp traversable again. Blütgrindor rejoined her group and ventured further into the swamp until there was a collection of stilt houses all attached to each other high over the swamp's murky waters.

"We're here." Blütgrindor said as they came to a stop on a pier below the stilt houses. "Mosstroopers! Report!" She shouted as eleven dingy, dirty Undefinables emerged from inside the stilt houses and stood ready.

"Mosstroopers reporting for duty, Lady Blütgrindor!" A female Undefinable clad in components for a strategist's warhorse, riddled with bald patches and dry, cracked and flaking skin from fungal growth. The face of her horse form, used as a chestplate in her Undefinable form, was half-consumed by jungle rot, partially hidden by it's chanfron.

"Prepare to strike! We're not just going to drive out the Circle Cultists, we're going to eradicate them!" Blütgrindor announced.

Suddenly, a small group of Shitbots appeared and began attacking the Undefinables. Blütgrindor and her underlings sprang into retaliation and began returning fire.

"We're under attack!!!" A Mosstrooper named Knicholiose screeched as he turned to his fungus-ravaged Wyvern form and began strafing the invaders.

Rhajamaut did not attack, but instead broke into a hideous cackle. "YOU FOOLS!!!" She announced. "WHO'S SWAMP DO YOU THINK THIS IS???" She laughed as she leapt atop one of the higher piers and entered her Shrine form. "BEHOLD!!! MY POWER… OVER DEATH!!!" She shouted.

Suddenly energy from Rhajamaut struck the rust-contaminated waters of the swamp and they began bubbling more than usual. Figures began to rise out of the acidic muck, began climbing onto the piers and attacked the Shitbots. Rusted and stained, they were evidently discarded machines of some sort.

"MEET MY CHILDREN, CIRCLE CULTISTS!!!" Rhajamaut cackled as a Shitbot Brawler Drone got dragged beneath the water by a swarm of the reanimated cadavers. "IT'S OVER NOW!!!" She cheered as the invaders all began to succumb to her summoning.

With the last of the Shitbots dispatched, Blütgrindor and her underlings marched to exit the swamp. As they came to the South Plaza and overlooked the Shitbots preparing to launch their attack.

Blütgrindor gave out the signal and Dwyrion led the main army of Undefinable Drones into battle against the invaders. As the main army marched on and engaged the Shitbots in the South Plaza, Blütgrindor's group appeared from the West and joined in the chaos, greatly increasing the rate at which the Shitbots were being decimated.

"You think, I can't plan around this?" Number 52 shouted out. "You've fallen right for my trap, vile Shirleyists!" He said as a large portal opened and deployed a massive multi-turreted tank onto the battlefield. Each turret housed a scaled-up plasma thrower that fired in burst mode.

Blütgrindor chuckled. "Oh… but can you plan around this!" She gloated. "MOSSTROOPERS!!! BECOME… BRIGANDIZOR!!!"

"You heard Lady Blütgrindor!" Danyellahkaal, the Mosstrooper strategist, shouted as she flew above the battlefield in her diseased, but otherwise ordinary Warhorse form, a bizarre ability unique to her. "Assemble!!!"

The fungus-covered Undefinables leapt into the air and began turning into the components of a much larger figure. Parts rearranged and clicked together until the eleven Mosstroopers had become one colossal Undefinable.

"PREPARE FOR YOUR ERADICATION, CIRCLE CULTISTS!!!" The metallic titan bellowed out as the numerous weapons all over it's body began to lay waste to the surrounding Shitbots.

"Concentrate all fire on that thing, now!" Number 52 screamed in a panic as the Shitbot plasma tank fired all of it's weapons at the absolute unit of an Undefinable. A blinding light shined from the intensity of the plasma throwers' beams hitting Brigandizor's armor.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!! BRIGANDIZOR LIVES!!!" Blasted out from behind the light. "BEHOLD, THE MIGHT OF… BRIGANDIZOR!!!" Announced the giant as it walked straight towards the Shitbot plasma tank, completely unaffected by it's weapons, and kicked it through the air as if it were a children's toy.

"It looks like it's you who has fallen for my trap, Shitbot!" Blütgrindor laughed out as Brigandizor slammed his fists into the Shitbot plasma tank, crushing it's main turret, and then picking it up, hoisting it over his head and slamming it down directly onto Number 52.

The Shitbot plasma tank then exploded from the beating it took, leaving a barren crater on the ground where it and Number 52 once stood. This started a chain reaction in the Shitbot portal that rapidly destabilized it until it collapsed in on itself. With Number 52's existence brutally and completely ended and any method of escape obliterated, the remaining Shitbots fled and panicked. Chasing the easy targets, the main army indulged in the slaughter.

"Illexander! Take command of Brigandizor and wipe the stragglers out of existence!" Blütgrindor ordered as she, Rhajamaut, Jaquobeain, Reinayari and Nialeroz set off for the Spire.

…

Back in the Circle Cult's temple, chaos was unfolding. The portal had suddenly become unstable for no apparent reason and if they didn't stop it fast-

Soup King Prime, Quiet_Boi and Sam were knocked to the floor by the sudden explosion that shook the entire temple. Going to the basement to find the source, they found the portal room completely annihilated.

"If that happened… then… Number 52 must be toast!" Sam said.

"Even with 52 gone, the invasion hasn't failed yet." Prime said. "We still have one player on the other side…"

"You think, I can't plan around this?" Number 52 shouted out. "You've fallen right for my trap, vile Shirleyists!"

Prime, 52, MCC, Sam and Quiet_Boi were watching the scene unfold out before them on the large screen in the command room.

Sam and Brother Boi were sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, but had been denied any Iron Bru as it was getting too close to their bed times.

Everyone was thoroughly enjoying the show being put on by the Imposters.

"I wonder, 52, if they have actually realised that the drones are displaying actual emotions. Surely the fact that Flier Drone was hiding in fear should have given it away that it was not a war machine."

"Oh, I doubt it, Prime. They've fallen for this truly atrocious copy of me. I mean, just look at the complete lack of style and grace it has. Terrible!"

"Also don't forget about using a tank in urban combat, 52. Gosh, they must think we know nothing of actual warfare."

MCC paused the footage, which elicited a few boos from Sam and Quiet_Boi, and stepped closer to the screen.

After a few moments of study, he turned around and spoke.

"That's a K-28 modified to use an upscaled replica of our plasma throwers."

"A K-28? How did they get their hands on one of Kaijin's tanks?"

"It's an older model, a few generations behind the current ones. He probably sold it off as surplus or it was stolen from one of his minor vassals."

"Hmm, you don't think Kaijin would launch a False Flag attack on his own people, do you?"

They stared at each other, then at the images of the battles between the Imposters and the Undefinables. to the frozen command screen, and then back to each other.

"No, he'd probably stop supplying them with lubricating oil, bananas, or whatever else he gives them to keep them happy and compliant."

"Agreed. It does appear that they are actually trying to achieve…something, when a False Flag could have been achieved by simply having five appearing and throwing a shoe at the first Undefinable they saw."

MCC unpaused the footage and they watched the battle continue.

"Concentrate all fire on that thing, now!"

Number 52 screamed in a panic as the Shitbot plasma tank fired all of it's weapons at the absolute unit of an Undefinable. A blinding light shined from the intensity of the plasma throwers' beams hitting Brigandizor's armor.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!! BRIGANDIZOR LIVES!!!" Blasted out from behind the light. "BEHOLD, THE MIGHT OF… BRIGANDIZOR!!!" Announced the giant as it walked straight towards the Shitbot plasma tank, completely unaffected by it's weapons, and kicked it through the air as if it were a children's toy.

"See, if they focused fire on one of the legs, they might have had a good chance."

"Really, MCC?"

"Yeah, centre firing a mech is pretty pointless due to the numerous redundancies built into them. Strategic dismemberment, that's the way to go about it."

A malicious cackling told them that the show was, unfortunately, coming to an end.

"It looks like it's you who has fallen for my trap, Shitbot!" Blütgrindor laughed out as Brigandizor slammed his fists into the Shitbot plasma tank, crushing it's main turret, and then picking it up, hoisting it over his head and slamming it down directly onto Number 52.

The Shitbot plasma tank then exploded from the beating it took, leaving a barren crater on the ground where it and Number 52 once stood. This started a chain reaction in the Shitbot portal that rapidly destabilized it until it collapsed in on itself. With Number 52's existence brutally and completely ended and any method of escape obliterated, the remaining Shitbots fled and panicked. Chasing the easy targets, the main army indulged in the slaughter.

Back in the Command Centre, the gathered group cheered and chuckled as the Imposters ran about the place like headless chickens, making a wide variety of amusing sounds as they fell over each other and other comically convenient items whilst being cut down by the Undefinable horde.

"Well children, it looks like entertainment is finished for tonight. You two better head off for bed, you'll have a busy day tomorrow."

"Awww Boooossssssss. But it's oooonnnllllyyy 2am!"

"No buts, young lady. It's a work night after all."

Sam put on her pouty face and gave Brother Boi her professional puppy eyes

"Is there nothing we can help you with before we go to bed, Soup? Anything?"

"I…suppose you can accompany us whilst we use the portal to recover Number 15. He's stubbornly refusing to come home, so we need to go and grab him."

"Is that safe?"

Prime shrugged his shoulders.

"Eh, you know what he is like when he is in a crusading mood."

The group began to set off when Prime suddenly stopped dead in his tracts.

"Actually…you don't, do you? Gentlemen!"

52 and MCC went to a nearby supply closet and came back with two empty buckets.

The two Shitbots then placed the buckets over Sam and Quiet_Boi's heads, completely concealing their sight.

"Why have you put buckets over our heads, Boss?"

"I am pre-emptively averting your gaze. You will most likely thank me later. Probably."

Now with just under half their number blind and feeling slightly dizzy because of the funky smell, they continued on their way to the Hell Portal. Occasionally stopping to laugh as Sam and Quiet_Boi walked into walls, doors and each other.

The deep, hollow voice of Bucket Boi rang out as they came to a stop.

"How do you know where Brother 15 will be, Soup?"

"It's quite simple, really. Their Church of Shirley. There is no way he would let such a beacon of heathenry remain untouched in this conflict."

"Do you think he'll still be there, Soup? The fighting's been going on for a long time now."

"Well, considering the distinct lack of any Undefinables writhing around on the ground in complete agony after getting disembowelled by a sword burning with the fury of a thousand suns, I believe the chances of such a thing being exceptionally slim."

"Is Number 15 really that powerful, Soup? Those Undefinables seem pretty tough."

"When he is overcome by religious zeal, he is."

"Do you the rest of you get that powerful when you're pissed?"

"Some of us do."

"Some?"

"Think of us as being like angels. We are all spirits that inhabit these…shells, which we use to interact with the physical world, but some of us are stronger than others. I suppose Number 15 is what you could call an Arch Angel, being the Holey Lord's chosen warrior."

"Are you an Arch Angel too, Soup?"

Blinded as they were, they could not see the bright, blue twinkling of Prime's eyes as he spoke.

"Maybe."

The technicians attending to the portal signalled that they were ready and the terrible wailing of the portal firing up filled the air.

Suddenly, the room was filled with a harsh, golden light and the temperature in the room rose drastically.

The Undefinable's Church of Shirley was in ruins.

All of the wooden pews had been reduced to charred splinters, whilst the pedestal that had held the Book of Shirley had been reduced to a pile of ash.

The stone alter had been smashed and reduced to rubble. Here and there among the debris, it was possible to pick out parts of what had once been an exquisitely carved depiction of various scenes from the Book of Shirley.

Across the massive mural of Shirley's face at the back of the hall, burned deeply into the very walls themselves, where the words "Purple Puppet" and "False Idol".

And standing in the middle of this all was Number 15.

It was from him that the fierce heat and blinding light was coming from. Molten rock pooled under his feet whilst his impressive wings were proudly extended, his wingspan just a foot or two short of covering the entire hall.

The sword in his hand was glowing so brightly, that not even the other Shitbots could bear looking at it. But not even the sword was bright enough to fade out the raging inferno that burned in his eyes.

Meeting the others eye to eye, the fire that raged inside there subsided to at least tolerable levels.

"Brothers! Hast thou cometh to help cleanse this blasphemous realm of heathen swine?"

"No, Number 15. We have come for you, in fact. It is tie to come home."

"Thou askeths me to flee!?"

"Phase 2 will be commencing soon. The Undefinables must be allowed to achieve victory at this point in time."

"Pah, not until mine blade hath drank deep of demon blood."

"Brother, please. You are putting yourself at an unneeded risk. You do not even know where they are!"

"The Arch-Fiend and her dogs hurry to The Spire. So spake The Holey One."

"You wish to fight them? Brother, you do realise that you are potentially looking at a 7:1 battle here?"

"Then it shalt be an even fight. Doubt not the outcome, Brother, for righteousness and god art on mine side."

"We can not help you, if things go wrong. Brother, please cease this foolishness before it begins."

"Fear not, for faith is my shield and fury is my sword. They shalt feel the Lord's Wrath this day!"

Number 15 flexed his impressive wings and the roiling hellfire in his eyes increased with terrible intensity.

"The Circle Protects!"

The golden light soon became an overwhelming white hot one which burned fiercely, even whilst being heavily distilled by the portal itself.

The machinery maintaining the Hell Portal gave out and began to emit a thick, green smoke.

Everyone managed to get to cover just as the machine exploded, sending neon green splinters of shrapnel flying around the room and closing the portal to Death On High! until it can be rebuilt.

Everything was quiet in the portal hall for a few moments, with everyone taking in a few moments to soak up the cool refreshing darkness after being exposed to that hellish light

It was Prime that spoke first.

"Well…shit. I suppose we should pray to the Circle and get him to ca-"

"Baggsy, not doing it."

"52, there's n-"

"Baggsy not telling Dad this."

"MCC, he pro-"

"Baggsy not doing it, I have far too many chores to do."

"Brother Boi!? Well, I suppose that ju-"

"Baggsy not doing this, I'm just an intern, Boss."

"Fuck. Ok, I'll ask Father to recall Number 15 and also ask for him to keep it to a maximum of three new torn arseholes per Undefinable…Fuck."

(Just out of interest, do you want me to write the climatic battle to end Phase 1, or would you like to do it?)

(You can't wuss out on it though, everyone taking part has to at least get badly wounded before Number 15 is called back by the Circle telling Number 15 to stop being a naughty boy and come home answering Prime's prayers to spare the Undefinables from his terrible wrath.)

(Even if Blütgrindor were to smash every last Shitbot in Death On High, including Number 15, she'd still have a core to fix. That wouldn't be the ending of the story, that pat of it, at least.)

(Besides, the more I think about, the more I realize that Blütgrindor's kind of the Shirleyist equivalent of Number 15, so they have to have a massive fight.)

(Also, Kommando and the Shirleyists just use various M1 Abrams variants and other US vehicles for their mechanized warfare, oh, and Undefinables. Duh.)

(Oh yeah, no one's going to die, probably lose a limb or two and have a rather interesting time trying to plug up all of the holes long enough to eat something, but be fine in the long run.)

(Also, I can't believe you, the rampant industrialist and tech savvy mastermind with legions of cyborgs, mutants and things that go boop in the night doesn't design his own vehicles.)

(Unless they're all in the future, of course.)

(It'd be pretty weird to see an Abrams fighting IN SPAAAACCE!!!)

(Well, if I can finish the comic so the canon timeline can move past 2007, I might show off some futuristic vehicles. Besides, there will definitely be space combat across alternate realities in the future, so OC vehicles will be a guarantee.)

(Plus, it's not just contemporary US equipment, but experimental stuff that got cancelled, too. So stuff like the XM2001 Crusader, M8 Armored Gun System, Future Combat Systems Manned Ground Vehicles, Expeditionary Fighting Vehicle, etc.)

(Although, with the way things keep getting more and more absurd, an Abrams in space might happen.)

(Also, the futuristic vehicles will all be jagged, edgy, rugged-looking machines and absolutely not the ugly smooth minimalist eco-trash every shitty piece of modern media portrays in their terrible attempts at entertainment. I hate that shit! There's a reason most of the Undefinable factions' job is to obliterate every crystal-spires-and-togas setting from existence, it's because they suck and are 99% of the time thinly-veiled authoritarian shitholes.)

(P.S. Do the Shitbots have anything in the way of explorers or adventurers? Y'know, somebody that would be absolutely eager to jump into a rocket and disappear into an area of time and space not even hypothesized about? Just wondering.)

>P.S. Do the Shitbots have anything in the way of explorers or adventurers? Y'know, somebody that would be absolutely eager to jump into a rocket and disappear into an area of time and space not even hypothesized about?

(Ahh, you mean Safari Saturdays.)

(It is a proud Shitbot tradition for newly made members to go on a Walkabout.)

(And by going on Walkabout, I mean gleefully yeeting themselves into the Cosmos or diving headfirst through any wibbly-wobbly portals they may come across.)

(The periods of these excursions last until they either get bored and come home, or get violently expelled from wherever they are once the populace get's fed-up with their youthful hijinks.)

It had been the end of a long day full of excitement and irritation in equal measure.

Whilst it was true that the Silent Reactor had come dangerously close to destabilising and the invaders had managed to penetrate surprisingly deep into some of their most guarded areas, it had, all in all, been a glorious victory that they had won this day.

All that remained was to reach the top of the tower and survey the damage done to the city from above before working out a plan for what to do next.

As the elevator rumbled on up to the top of the tower Rhajamaut, Reinayari and Nialeroz where chatting happily and boasting about their deeds in today's battle; whilst Blütgrindor tapped her feet impatiently with Jaquobeain standing stoically at her side.

Upon reaching the top, they casually strolled out and stepped onto the wide, glass viewing platform that surrounded the top of the Spire.

It was not a pretty sight.

Great plumes of smoke were billowing out of numerous buildings where, even now, large fires raged uncontested. Whether they were the result of an over-eager offence or a reckless defence was indiscernible from such high up.

With baffling speed and efficiency, the Shitbot Drones had constructed massive rice fields that spanned from one side of the Main Road to the palace to the other.

There were rumours circulating around that they were cursed and anyone who damaged them whilst combating the Shitbot Drones had been viscously assaulted by the vengeful spirits farmers when at their most vulnerable.

Although this was clearly nonsense, it wasn't uncommon to find squads of Undefinable Drones in this area that seemed to have been slain in viscous hand-to-hand combat with their twisted, half-torn apart carcasses blocking stairways and crumpled at the junctions of hallways.

They had probably been caught off guard by a pack of Chargers or Flailers.

That didn't explain what had happened to Leonidius though…

…

Never mind. Once he had recovered, he was sure to clear the whole mystery up.

He must have just got careless and was ambushed by three Brawler Drones simultaneously.

In a section they had already cleared of resistance

In a place where he had not seen the, presumably very well camouflaged, 9ft tall hostile tankbot standing directly in front of him.

Yes…

As the group moved about the viewing platform, making remarks and taking notes as they did so, they noticed a gentle light slowly getting stronger overhead.

That was odd, the light that acted as the sun in this strange realm had started to set but an hour ago.

And then they heard melodic chanting in an unfamiliar tongue coming from overhead.

Blütgrindor looked up and scoffed.

In the sky above them was a mechanical angel.

Like all of its kind, it possessed a gaunt humanoid form that appeared weedy and frail compared to the Undefinables own bodies. It was born aloft on two majestic wings with silver feathers that silently sliced through the air.

It's arms were spread out wide. In one hand, it carried what appeared to be a sceptre that appeared to have been carved from obsidian.

Unlike the rest of it's kind which proudly displayed their name upon their helmet, this one had the symbol of The Underserving Circle etched there in gold instead.

Its entire body emanated a soothing yellowish glow and it observed the group serenely as it hovered lazily in the air above them.

It spoke in a cool, calm voice that had a slight reverb to it.

"Be not afraid."

"I bring peace. I bring salvation. Wilst thou lay down thine arms and repent thine wicked ways?"

"The Circle forgives, so no punishment shalt there be for the penitent."

The Undefinables gathered together and took up a battle stance.

Blütgrindor snarled up at the machine

"PAH, I'LL WORSHIP SHIT AND THE MAGGOTS THAT FEAST UPON IT BEFORE TURNING TO YOUR WRETCHED EXCUSE OF A GOD FOR SALVATION."

The angel's face slowly scanned across everyone else's before it spoke once more.

"Doth thou speak for all?"

"I DO, YOU FUCKI-"

"Good."

In a sudden flash, the gentle glow was replaced by a harsh, gold light and the limbs of the angel appeared to grow white hot.

The Shitbot clasped it's hands together and from the sceptre leapt a blade of blinding flame as long a fully grown man.

Eyes raging with hellfire fixed the Undefinables with a piercing glare before it folded it wings behind itself and dived upon them, the light highlighting the razor sharpness of the feathers as it did so.

The Undefinables dived out of the way, with Reinayari managing to quickly throw a spear at the figure as it drove past.

Such was the heat coming off of the angel that it had singed all of their hair as it passed and the spear tip had heated to the point of simply bending harmlessly upon making contact with the Shitbot.

Landing heavily, the machine turned to face them as Nialeroz transformed into his cannon form and Reinayari took to the skies.

The angel now shrieked in a voice full of brimstone and malice.

"MONTROUS FILTH! THOU DAREST REJECT THE CIRCLE'S MERCY?"

"THEN THOU SHALT FEEL HIS WRATH!"

It charged.

(I'm currently in the process of writing out the fight, but thank you for the extra details on Number 15. I'll be sure to put them to good use.)

(Shit, I'm doing that too.)

(Um…should we both write out our fight scenes, or would that just get really confusing?)

How does the Banana God feel about plantains?

If a banana is unavailable, are you allowed to use a suitably banana-shaped object instead?

(At this point it's my headcanon that what I'm writing is the "S-Rank" ending where Blütgrindor killed all teh enemys and doesn't afraid of anything and what you're writing is the "Oops, you forgot an obscure bonus stage and didn't collect all the items, guess you didn't really win after all!" ending.)

(So basically do whatever, this is all probably alternate timelines anyways.)

(To be honest, I've completely forgotten what the actual canon timeline is suppose to be.)

(I like to think the ending I'm currently writing is "RPG Clutch victory after using all your healing and having 1HP left".)

(It was pretty clear that the Undefinables were going to win this bit, it's just that some of them might not be in a mood to party afterwards, or even really capable of it.)

Blütgrindor and her underlings approached the Spire, entering it and climbing through the first five hundred stories, they encountered Perifonos, Euphemia and Silazalious.

"Where have you been?" Blütgrindor inquired.

"Well… first I was at the arena, then a portal opened up and Circle Cultists started attacking, and then I went to the prison, and then I…" Perifonos explained all that had she had done before Blütgrindor interrupted her.

"And you?" Blütgrindor questioned as she turned to Euphemia and Silazalious.

"CRUSHIN' HEADS AND RIPPIN' OUT SPINES!!!" Euphemia shouted as she shrieked and pounded her fists into the floor, nearly collapsing it.

"We need to get to the Silent Reactor, NOW! It will overload soon and we can't deliver retribution onto those disgusting Circle Cultists if that happens, so get moving! We still have four thousand and five hundred floors to ascend!" Blütgrindor ordered as the group returned to advancing up the Spire. Elevators would take too long, so they ascended by having the fliers in the group lift and carry the other through the stairwell.

At the topmost balcony, the tops of the clouds were visible far below. As a massive thunderstorm raged off in the distance, red sprites could be seen blinking above the clouds. A gigantic jet of blue plasma burst from one of the clouds, reaching hundreds of thousands of feet into the atmosphere above them for a brief instant. But this sight was interrupted by an unwelcome guest.

"HERETICS!!!" It shouted as it flew over top of the balcony and slammed onto the floor in front of them, it's massive golden wings extending far beyond it's shoulders. This Shitbot was evidently Number 15 and in it's hand was a flaming sword.

Blütgrindor drew her Corrupted Divine Sword as everyone behind her readied themselves for the inevitable battle. The thin air was filled with tension as the two sides stared at each other, waiting for the first strike.

Suddenly Number 15 launched itself forward with a single flap of it's wings and swung it's sword at the group, Blütgrindor parried the strike with her Corrupted Divine Sword and Number 15 drew back and spun in an attempt to strike the crazed conqueror with it's sharp, bladed wings. Blütgrindor merely teleported out of the way as Number 15 carefully moved it's torso to narrowly avoid two javelins launched it by Perifonos as she charged towards it with her sword extended.

"I bet your blood's glows, too!" She cheered as they locked blades. Perifonos attempted to blast Number 15's torso with her Thoron Gun, but it caught her wrist and bent the weapon away from itself. Struggling against the Shitbot's strength, Perifonos' arms were slowly bent open and away form her torso. Laslinigow launched himself from beneath her breastplate and latched to Number 15's face as he began attacking it with his sword and axe, breaking it's hold over Perifonos.

"Have you no chivalry? That is not how you treat a lady in the slightest!" Laslinigow berated as he climbed onto Number 15's back and began slashing at anything that looked vital. "…Especially mine!" He continued as he cracked the armor over Number 15's left wing root with an axe blow, but was then finally grabbed by the Shitbot and flung into a recovering Perifonos.

A trio of arrow dug into Number 15's side, failing to penetrate through it's armor, but alerting it to Reinayari lunging at it with a spear. Grunting in fury, the arrows burnt away as Number 15 dodged the spear thrust, grabbed it and began to swing her around in a circle before throwing her at Nialeroz, who slid beneath her, turned into his cannon form and blasted Number 15 in the chest, knock it backwards.

"That was good for me!" Nialeroz spat out as he quickly ran out of sight to avoid Number 15's retaliation, Blütgrindor's clone strafed it with her dragon form while it was standing up and quickly made herself scarce as Number 15 recovered and began looking for who to attack next. Suddenly, it was teleported across the room, next to and by Jaquobeain, but before it could reorient itself, was struck by two blasts from Rhajamaut that paralyzed him.

"Quickly! Get away from it before it wears off!" Rhajamaut shouted to Jaquobeain as they ran for cover as Euphemia rode towards the Shitbot upon the back of Silazalious' heavily armored warhorse form.

"TRY ME ON FOR SIZE!!!" Euphemia shouted as she leapt from Silazalious and launched two spiral-shaped bladed projectiles from her right arm followed by two javelins from beneath her shield on her left arm at Number 15. The Shitbot overcame the effects of Rhajamaut's weapons much quicker than usual and blocked the spiral-shaped projectiles with it's left wing before dodging the Javelins and striking down with it's right wing to block a strike from Euphemia with a massive, electrified axe that extended from her arm.

A burst of lighting bolts struck Number 15's back and it shoved off Euphemia and turned to counter Silazalious with by slashing at him with it's wings. Silazalious survived the blow by holding up his shield, reducing the damaged inflicted to him merely being launched along the floor to Euphemia's side.

"WE'LL CRUSH YOU TOGETHER!!!" Euphemia shouted as Silazalious' armor split apart as he crawled onto her back and his form changed into extra armor and modifications to Euphemia's arms. Now bearing a massive pair of shoulderpads made from Silazalious and covered in various weapons, Euphemia charged back towards Number 15.

"FEEL THE BURN!!!" She shouted as she plunged her fist into the side of the Shitbot's face, following with another barehanded blow to it's head. Grabbing her wrist in an attempt to counter her, Number 15 soon realized it's mistake when Euphemia smacked it in the side of the head with her shoulderpads and followed up by extending a massive lance from her arm and stabbing it into the Shitbot's chest.

Once again failing to hit anything important and merely damaging it's armor, Number 15 found itself hoisted up into the air and slammed onto the ground by the Undefinable Knight and before it could recover, Euphemia and picked it up and lifted it over top of her head.

"STRENGTH IS EVERYTHING!!!" Euphemia shouted as she launched Number 15 off of the balcony, only for it to fly back up, mostly intact.

Number 15 prepared to smite Euphemia into oblivion, but stopped as it heard something behind it. Before it could turn around, two Wyverns slammed into it and knocked the Shitbot to the ground.

"We came as fast as we could!" Announced Carmilla as she and Velka unfurled into their Undefinable forms as Shiagesetsuna and Elysium arrived. Shiagesetsuna summoned a clone of herself while Elysium changed into her Undefinable form. Number 15 recovered and charged straight towards the two, ready to bring it's sword down onto them. "I messed up again, didn't I?" Shiagesetsuna said as she noticed the Shitbot flying towards them.

Shiagesetsuna and her clone immediately jumped to the side as Elysium ascended into the air, all three of them successfully avoiding Number 15's attack. Blütgrindor appeared from nowhere and once again she locked blades with the Shitbot. Slashing, hacking and jabbing at Number 15, Blütgrindor slowly forced it backwards, where her clone was waiting to flank it, but Number 15 unexpectedly spun and she had to flip backwards to avoid being hit. With Number 15 having successfully changed an offensive to a defensive, it kicked Blütgrindor, launching her backwards.

The two were locked in a grapple, with Blütgrindor restraining it's limbs and firing a five-round-burst into Number 15's chest, worsening the cracks in it's armor from earlier. The Shitbot sensed that it needed to put distance between itself and the Undefinable leader at quickly took flight, only for Blütgrindor to sink her clawed fingers into it's arms as it soared over the floor and into a cluster of machinery on an adjacent balcony as Shiagesetsuna and her clone launched bolts of violet dark energy at it.

Number 15 went to strike Blütgrindor while she was down, but Carmilla flew straight into it, throwing the two of them away from Blütgrindor while she stood back up. Carmilla hacked at the Shitbot's torso with her large, circular-saw-like axe before hooking it's shoulder with a different axe, covered with large sharpened teeth designed for grabbing opponents. Wrestling Number 15 to it's knees and striking the damaged wing root, the Shitbot then grabbed the shafts of both of Carmilla's axes and flipped her over it's head, then kicked her with enough force to launch her off of the balcony.

The Shitbot walked over to finish off Blütgrindor as the Undefinable leader recalled her Corrupted Divine Sword to herself, upon which Number 15 realized that it had dropped it's flaming sword when he flew over to this balcony. Extending it's arm swords and lunging to meet Blütgrindor, Number 15 quickly learned that her Corrupted Divine Sword burns and melts it's way through anything physical as it tore one of it's arm swords in half and part of it's right arm with it.

Blütgrindor caught Number 15's left hook and locked it's arm before pulling the Shitbot down and kicking it's knee, making the invader stumble around. While it's back was turned to her, Blütgrindor slashed Number 15's back several times before impaling her sword straight through the damaged wing root, severing the wing. Grabbing the disembodied wing, she then swung it straight into Number 15's face, it bursting apart into various sharp metallic feathers as the cracks in the Shitbot's armor were torn open into massive lesions, it's right eye was shattered and part of it's helmet was ripped off of the side of it's head by the force of the blow and the sharpness of it's own feathers alone.

"WE'RE NOT DONE, YET!!!" She shouted as she pulled the sword out of the Shibot's back, Blütgrindor then turned to it before striking. "You believe in weakness!" She started. "Your so-called god is not just pathetic, but long dead by now as well!" She continued as she sliced off both of the Shitbot's arms as it tried to stand up. "You want a god to worship?" She inquired as she stood above the battered and mutilated Shitbot. "I am the one!" Blütgrindor growled in anger as she stabbed her sword into Number 15's abdomen, molten metal pouring out of the wound. "THE ONLY ONE!!!" Blütgrindor announced furiously as she dragged the blade upward, through it's torso, more molten metal gushing out as she did. "I AM THE GOD OF KINGDOM COME!!!" She shouted as she finally ripped the sword straight through the Shitbot's head, cutting it in half. Blütgrindor then made several horizontal slashes that further reduced Number 15 to a pile of melted mechanical parts, a pile of broken metallic feathers and a single, battered and and nearly shattered wing.

"How long do we have left?" Blütgrindor questioned. "An hour until the Silent Reactor becomes critically unstable." Jaquobeain responded.

"Let's go, then!" Blütgrindor said as she turned to her Dragon form. Jaquobeain and Rhajamaut repaired everyone with their staves before they descended down the central shaft that lead to the Silent Reactor. Flying down the enormous and seemingly endless chasm, the whole group slowly began to approach the Silent Reactor, many miles beneath the surface of their world.

(I hope you guys like reading, because I may have over done it the alternative ending by just a smidge.)

Jaquobeain planted his feet firmly on the deck and extended his shield, taking the full brunt of the impact.

The angel's sword bit deep into Jaquobeain's arm as the blade burnt through the shield.

Using the momentum of the strike, the Shitbot flipped it's body over Jaquobeain, dodging a swipe from Rhajamaut as it did so, planted it's feet on the back of his shoulders and used him as a launch pad to kick off into the sky as Reinayari swooped down for another pass.

Spiralling as it came, through a flurry of arrows burning bright from the heat, the angel spread it's wings out wide, with the edge of one of the feathers lacerating Reinayari's leg as she passed.

Just then, an energy blast caught the machine in the back and it fell back down to the viewing platform.

A slight haze of heat accompanied by a wisp of smoke partially hid Blütgrindor's sneering face as her chest cannon cooled in the chilly air.

"SUCH A PATHETIC CHAMPION FOR SUCH A PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A GOD"

"NIALEROZ, PUT THIS FUCKING CUR DOWN"

As Nialeroz charged his killing blow, the machine lay there, the hateful stare in its eyes growing in intensity. The thick glass underneath it cracking, softening, melting.

The blast from Nialeroz's cannon caused the air to fill with the sound of shattering glass and choking clouds of smoke. When it had cleared, all that remained was a hole rimmed with the dull red of cooling glass.

Rhajamaut and Blütgrindor chuckled whilst Nialeroz transformed back into his Undefinable form and strolled on over to inspect his work. Reinayari landed nearby and limped on over to Jaquobeain where she leaned on him to take the weight off her wounded leg, taking great care not to touch his wounded arm.

It was whilst they were staring down into the hole that they noticed a strange reddish glow coming from the clouds below them. Suddenly, as bright as the morning sun, the angel burst forth from the clouds like a bat out of hell and raced quickly up to the top of the tower.
Before they had a chance to retake their previous positions, the Shitbot landed just across from them with a heavy thump and the cracking of glass.
“STRIKING WHILST MINE BACK WAS TURNED? I DIDST NOT THINK THOU CRAVENS!”
Blütgrindor roared back at the Wrath of God manifest.
“WRETCHED MACHINE, I’LL SH”
And the angel was upon them.
In one fluid movement it dashed across the short distance between them, grabbed hold of Reinayari’s arm, bisected her with its sword, swung and threw it at Nialeroz before sidestepping a counter blow from Jaquobeain and rolling away out of any further retaliatory strikes.

It had all happened in the span of a few seconds and Nialeroz had only just hit the ground when the angel launched its next attack.

This time, the Undefinables were prepared. Blütgrindor and Rhajamaut struck at the machine only to have it twitch and swerve away from their blows with terrible speed. They evaded the angel’s blows with equal precision, with Jaquobeain placing his rapidly deteriorating shield between them when it looked like they may not dodge in time.

The angel saw an opportunity and pirouetted out of the melee to gain some space, giving both sides a small breather and a chance to size up the opposition.

In the tense silence, all that could be heard was the pained moaning coming from Reinayari as Nialeroz dragged her to the relative safety of the atrium.

Blütgrindor bellowed at the angel as it slowly strafed around them.

“YOU’LL PAY DEARLY FOR THAT, DEMON!”

The machine snorted indignantly.

“THE WAGES OF SIN ART HEAVY INDEED, FIEND!”

This time the Undefinables were the first to strike.

Jaquobeain charged ahead with a deafening war cry with Rhajamaut darting off to the side to get a good firing position, whilst Blütgrindor used the distraction to create a duplicate of herself to strike from the flank.

The angel took flight and flew over the edge of the Spire, spoiling the Undefinable’s battle plan as it dodged and weaved through Rhajamaut’s fire as it dived over the edge.

Coming in behind them through the hole blown into the glass by Nialeroz, the machine landed nimbly and charged straight for Jaquobeain.

Standing his ground valiantly, Jaquobeain’s shield withstood a few more blows as his comrades moved in to assist. But this was one blow too many.

The angel’s fiery sword finally managed to cleave through Jaquobeain’s shield, severing his arm as it did so. Following through with the strike, the machine buried the sword deep into his side; smoke pouring forth from both wounds in thick, acrid clouds.

As the terrible blade was torn out of him, Jaquobeain toppled over as the angel dived out of the way of Rhajamaut’s furious firing and began to engage with Blütgrindor’s clone whilst the real one rushed to Jaquobeain’s side.

“My lady…I am sorry…I should have…seen this…I have…failed you…”

“Nonsense Jaquobeain. You have…you have done your best…”

Blütgrindor picked up Jaquobeain and together, he was half-dragged, half-stumbled into the safety of the atrium and placed gently down alongside what remained of Reinayari.

Nialeroz had transformed back into his cannon form and looked on grimly at the scene before them.

“Just give me one clear shot, and I’ll get the bastard. Just one shot, it’s all I’ll need.”

Blütgrindor grunted in acknowledgement and joined the fight just in time to see the angel slip behind her doppelganger and plunge its sword straight through her chest. The blade flashed and flames consumed the double from the inside out as it dissolved into golden light.

“HAH, IS THIS WHAT THOU CALLST A TRICK?”

“YOUR IMBECILIC BROTHER MCC FELL FOR IT, MONSTER!”

“MCC WAS A GODLESS FOOL, JUST LIKE THAT WEAKLING I CUT DOWN!”

Blütgrindor screamed for Rhajamaut to come to her and began to transform into her dragon form. The angel took to the skies just as she had finished her transformation and flew off to engage the machine with Rhajamaut riding on her back.

A dogfight soon ensued in the sky above the spire, with Rhajamaut and Blütgrindor trying to stay out of the reach of the angel’s strikes whilst it tried to dodge the return fire they gave in return.

The whirling, twirling mess of a fight continued for a few minutes whilst each side took and gave parting blows without being able to land a serious enough one to knock the other out of the sky.

Without warning, the Shitbot broke off from the fight and flew straight up into the sky. Giving chase, Blütgrindor decided to use this as an opportunity to finally land a solid blow on this troublesome foe.

Just as she was about to fire, the angel came to a complete halt and flipped over to face her head on. Twisting away from the mighty blast that burst forth from her throat, the angel cut her from head to tail as they passed each other.

Overcome by the burning pain that raced across her entire body, Blütgrindor fell down towards the platform below; using what remained of her failing strength to make the landing as soft as possible.

Crashing heavily onto the platform, Rhajamaut was thrown from her shoulders and tumbled a short distance away. Blütgrindor transformed back into her Undefinable form and laid there on the ground panting, trying to get her strength back.

A menacing chuckle from above alerted them to the presence of the angel that now hovered above them.

“WHERE IS THOU PEASANT GIRL, NOW?”

Rhajamaut got up and ran to be between Blütgrindor and the angel.

“How DARE you mock Shirley!”
“PAH, THOU HEATHENS ART DELUDED TO THINK THAT PUPPET CAN S-“

A powerful blast of energy shot out of the entrance to the atrium and struck the angel in one of it’s wings, severing it completely and sending it crashing head first into the floor below.

The machine lay still where it fell, and, except for the cries of the stricken Undefnables and Blütgrindor’s heavy breathing, a strange peace overcame the scene.

Nialeroz left his concealed position and rushed to Blütgrindor’s side and was soon accompanied by Rhajamaut. They helped her to her feet, but she refused to be supported by them, choosing instead to stagger behind them as they made their way over to the stricken Shitbot.

The machine lay in a pool of melting glass, the fierce light from before almost faded and the heat from its body cooling rapidly. One of its eyes had been smashed and it’s left arm had snapped unevenly, leaving behind a jagged stump.

The three remaining Undefinables cautiously approached it and stood guard over it from a safe distance until the glass had cooled and the light coming off of it was no longer visible.

Nialeroz and Rhajamaut advanced upon it and stood above the machine with weapons ready. The glass had once more become solid, partially encasing the fallen angel’s torso, although its limbs and one remaining wing appeared to be free.

“What do you wish for us to do with it, sire?”

Blütgrindor drew her Corrupted Divine Sword and raised it over her head to deliver a massive blow to rend the monster in two, then four, then eight and until the hatred in her heart had been sated.

But just as she was about to strike, she felt a powerful blow to her chest that sent her stumbling onto her back.

Out of her line of sight, she perceived a burst of heat, a flash of light and the sound of shattering glass. Above this all was Nialeroz’s pained yelp and Rhajamaut’s strangled cry.

Looking up, she just managed to see Nialeroz falling backwards grasping at a wound in his stomach, with molten metal pouring through his tightly clenched hands. Rhajamaut had been struck with the entire length of the angel’s wing, impaling her in multiple places, and as Blütgrindor watched she was tossed aside like litter on to the street.
The angel dragged itself onto its knees, lumps of glass stuck all across its frame. It fixed its one working eye on Blütgrindor, the light as cold and as distant as a dying star.

Blütgrindor growled and managed to stagger to her feet just in time to meet the angel as it lurched towards her, sword blazing as fiercely as the hate that burned in both of their hearts.

The strikes were heavy and slow now, the blades feeling cumbersome in their owners hands. Reduced to nothing more athletic than a small sidestep now, the two foes slammed their swords repeatedly into each other.

One fire fought one fire.

Sparks flew in massive clouds as a sword of pure light smashed into one of pitch darkness.

With each strike, they shrieked in unison.

“HERETIC!”

“DEMON!”

“FILTH!”

The angel shielded its body with its one remaining wing which Blütgrindor cut through with ease, exposing her to its counter-strike which impaled her through her waist. Grabbing a hold of its arm, she held it in place as she drove her own sword through its chest.

Letting go of one hand, Blütgrindor began to pummel the angel whilst it did the same with the jagged stump of its left arm. Soon she was covered in dozens of punctures whilst the machine was full of dents and cracks.

Overwhelmed by the sheer amount of damage they had both received, they toppled over and flopped out of each other’s grasp. There they lay, desperately trying to work their limbs to make one more strike, the fury in their eyes barely diminished as they stared bitterly at each other.

Once more, a strange tranquillity had come over the scene. The groans of the stricken Undefinables mixed with the howling of the wind as it danced around the top of the spire, creating a haunting cry that sounded like the tower itself was lamenting the outcome of this terrible battle.

After a short while, the angel turned his gaze skywards and spoke in a tinny, distant voice.

“I…believe that…a truce…may be…in order…”

Blütgrindor snorted and spoke, her voice harsh and strained.

“I…I accept…your…surrender…”

“Funny…I was…about to…accept thine…”

They lay there in silence for a few more minutes before the angel spoke once more.

“Why doth…thou worship…Shirley?…”

“She saved…us long…long ago…we owe…her every…everything…”

“But thou…breaketh…all her…rules?…”

“A rule…is useless…if it…stops you…from doing…the right…right thing…”

“There is…wisdom in…thine words…”

Silence once fell again over the spire as the two of them lay there staring at the inky black sky filled with ever-twisting clouds.

It was Blütgrindor who broke the silence this time.

“Why do…you hate…Shirley any…anyway…”

“We doth…doth not…hate Shirley…it is…she who…hates us…”

“But Shirley…Shirley loves…all mankind…”

“She loves…only mankind…all else…art to…be scourged…”

“And…the Circle…does not…persecute others?…”

“The Holey…Holey Lord…sees the…good in…all…even thee…all can…be saved…if thine…wish it…”

“This…this is…what you…call saving…saving us?…”

“I didst…offer…didst I…I not?…”

Over from the atrium came the whirring of the elevator’s cables as it began to travel back down the tower.

“We…we are…forces of…of good…we saved…people from…from tyranny…you know…”

“Only to…to replace…it with…with another…”

“They are…are happy…they are…are safe…they want…for nothing…fear nothing…”

“A golden…golden cage…is still…a cage…”

A sharp clack followed by a distant rumble indicated that the elevator had reached the bottom and was now on its way back up.

“That…that was…the best…fight I…have had…in a…a long…long time…”

“Indeed…thee did…better than…than I… expected…”

“As…as did…you…machine…”

“We…we are…not machines…”

“Are…are you…telling me…you are…actually a…a demon?…”

“Sometimes…sometimes the… the only…difference…between an…an angel…and a…a demon…is per…perspective…”

Blütgrindor gave a small chuckle that transformed into a wracking cough.

“So…we are…are angels…fighting angels…to see…see which…one is…is the…most holy?…”

“It doth…appear…to be…be the…case…”

From above the angel’s ruined body a portal of golden light in the shape of a perfect circle opened up, casting a soft, warm glow over both of the fallen warriors. With careful tenderness, its body was slowly pulled up from the ground and towards it

“It…it appears…that your…your god…has come…come for… you..”

A loud thunk indicated that the elevator had finally reached the top of the spire and the panicked shouts of alarm meant that the occupants were already at the entrance to the viewing platform.

“Quick, father says that mother’s been hurt!”

Blütgrindor lolled her head towards the sound coming from somewhere to her left, but her eyesight was too poor now to make out anything other than indistinct shapes moving in the distance.

“Dwyrion…my…my son…”

“And…and it…appears that…god’s gifts…have cometh…for thee…angel of…of Shirley…”

The angel had floated through the portal which snapped shut behind him just as Dwyrion, Solielitona and Ninaponineroza raced to be at Blütgrindor’s side, with Dwyrion immediately carrying out repairs as fast as he could.

Amidst the wreckage of the spire overlooking the burning city and the pitiful cries of the wounded, the Undefinable’s had finally achieved total victory over the Shitbots this day.

• >MFW You think that Blütgrindor is capable of being reasoned with, or even cares about moral or ethical arguements.

(If that were to be more accurate to her personality, she'd be more like the Monty Python version of the Black Knight than all somber and sad when she loses her limbs. Even without limbs, she still has a heart full of baleful wrath and a vicious mind obsessed with causing pain and torment.)

(Additionally, the Spire is massive, the last post indirectly indicates that it's 5000 stories tall, but these are not normal story heights, that are usually 14 feet tall, they're Undefinable story heights, which are 50 feet tall counting both the thickness of the floor and the space between floors. Such height is needed to account for the few absurdly tall Undefinables. So, doing some quick calculator math… the Spire is about 250,000 feet tall, or 47.3 miles, 76.2 km. It's nearly to the Mesopause and it's only the second tallest structure in Death On High, the tallest being the Throne Room, which is twice the Spire's height, meaning it surpasses the Karman Line, meaning it's technically a space station. Undefinables are fuckin' metal as fuck dude, don't fuck with them.)

(Also, what exactly would happen if say, hypothetically, one or maybe multiple Shitbots were to be stranded somewhere that's impossible to escape from, hypothetically.)

>Undefinables are fuckin' metal as fuck dude.

But if they are metal then where does babbie come from? 😕

>what exactly would happen if say, hypothetically, one or maybe multiple Shitbots were to be stranded somewhere that's impossible to escape from, hypothetically.

(Ah, I see you too have realised that 56 and 82 are going to be stuck on Death On High! with their new shadow demon friend from the tower.)

(Well…in this case, I would highly recommend figuring out some form of loophole to let them out.)

(Unless Undefinables have no problem with waking up with all of their limbs randomly switched about or as some sort of weird crab-dodo hybrid, of course.)

(Due to how detached Shitbots are from reality, they probably wouldn't care to be honest. Even if they were yeeted into oblivion; they've still got millennia upon millennia of shared memories to look through to keep them entertained which they can also use to create a fantasy world to keep themselves mentally occupied.)

(It would depend on the individual in question, but I imagine they'd at most just be temporarily annoyed that they didn't get the chance to finish whatever it was that they were doing before getting trapped.)

• >"But if they are metal then where does babbie come from?"

(Human beings that were granted Undefinable forms and powers can change to their original Human form and back at will, that is why Death On High has a continually expanding population. It is worth noting that only a small few of them are Undefinables, though, not counting the drones.)

(Also, say for a moment that the environment that the Shitbots were stranded in was, hypothetically, actively hostile to them and constantly trying to destroy them. Not the inhabitants of the location of their stranding, but the location itself. Just hypothetically.)

(And how exactly do the internals of a Shitbot work? Power supply? Fuel consumption? Endurance? Average strength? Processing power? Standard equipment? How would they handle dwindling supplies? Writing this stuff is a lot easier when you actually know what you're writing about, otherwise you end up with mistakes like Jaquobeain having a shield.)

>How exactly do the internals of a Shitbot work?

..
..
..

(Ok, being more serious, it depends on whether it's one of the supernatural ones or the standard ones.)

(The standard ones as I originally imagined them came in two models. Old and Current)

(The Old Ones use a cloned human brain as a processor that has the personality and current knowledge of the Shitbot Collective downloaded into it.)

(They are also powered by a combustion engine which can be powered by just chucking any ol' flammable object into the furnace in their chest. One log of wood about the size and thickness of a human forearm provides enough fuel to keep them going for an hour or two.)

(Removing their face plate will provide you with the lovely sight of a silently screaming skull with numerous wires installed into its mouth and camera lenses poking out of the eye sockets.)

(Because of their biological components, they are much more susceptible to environmental factors and concussive damage than the current, fully mechanical models.)

(The Current Models use a Positronic Brain instead of a biological one and it runs about 30-50% better than the cloned human brains as a processor.)

(After much trial and tribulation, the Collective managed to create a miniature nuclear fusion reactor that they use to power the Current Models.)

(This makes them more environmentally friendly, less resource intensive and comes with the rather wonderful bonus that anyone stabbing their "heart" receives a jet of irradiated plasma to the face.)

(However, unlike the Old Ones, once the "spark" has gone out of the Current Ones, it's much more complicated actually getting them running again compared to the Old Ones, who can be repowered by chucking a chair leg, potato or a spare limb into them.)

(This power source is also the main way of telling apart an Old One from a Current Model, as the Current Model lacks the large exhaust pipes on the back.)

(Depending on which version provides the most advantages to the current situation, each individual Shitbot can be either model; so, a new Shitbot can be an Old One whilst an ancient Shitbot can be a Current Model.)

(In terms of average strength, I imagine them being strong enough to pick the average-sized, male human up with one hand and throw them over their heads a good few feet.)

(Or to put it in other terms, if they were to dropkick a fully-loaded Ford Transit Van and did not just go straight through it, then the van would get knocked onto it's side from the impact.)

(In terms of defence, I kind of picture it as being on the level of current day IFVs.)

(Anything below 20mm isn't really going to concern them all to much.)

(Couple this with the fact that they only essentially have two vital parts, the engine and the brain/processor, they can quite happily survive wounds that would be unthinkable on a biological creature.)

(Oh, and whilst we're talking about death and destruction.)

(With the non-supernatural ones, a Shitbot can download their version of themselves into the Collective's databank and upon death, the blueprint can just be uploaded into the next Shitbot rolling off the assembly line.)

(Naturally, they won't remember anything that happened after their previous "save" and rely on the rest of the Collective to fill in the gaps.)

(With the supernatural ones, they are basically just various spirits that inhabit the empty chassis lying around the workshop and use them to interact with the world. Because of that, there's no discontinuity in their knowledge, but it takes them longer to come back after destruction.)

(This is one of the main reasons why they don't really give a fuck, as they are for all intents and purposes truly undying creatures.)

(So what if they get killed? All they'll know is that they woke up and were apparently involved in some sort of horrible washing machine accident.)

(In terms of standard equipment, it depends on the society they are trying to blend in with. They always try and make sure that they don't appear too weak or too strong in order to limit the chances of another group just outright attacking them.)

(In terms of maximum potential, they are capable of interstellar travel, fighting with a variety of energy weapons and having the knowledge to create complex megastructures like Dyson Spheres.)

(Given the appearance of the Old Ones, the lowest tech society they can blend in with is a Steampunk/Dieselpunk one; as having cyborgs openly strolling about the place at anything less than this is just an invitation for conflict.)

(I suppose you could say they sort of operate on the same sort of principle as The Prime Directive from Star Trek; except they are more than willing to fuck about with lesser people for entertainment.)

(In keeping with the Star Trek analogies, I suppose you could view them a bit like the Q. They are a race of people who have transcended physical bodies, reached the pinnacle of conventional potential and now don't really know what to do next; so they just piss about until they work out what the next great thing to strive for is.)

(This fact is also why they don't just steamroll everyone beneath them and have anything resembling a conventional empire.)

(Sure, they could raise entire solar systems to the ground, but then what?)

(What can they do if all is but dust and echoes?)

(Because of that, they often act as Interstellar Peacekeepers and Arbitrators.)

(It's not that the Collective in general particularly cares about the people they're protecting, it's just that the place would be a lot more boring without them.)

(Now in regards to the supernatural ones…)

(The main ones you need to worry about are Number 1, Number 14, Number 15 and Numbers 56 and 82.)

(Number 1 is a Trickster Spirit that is highly adept at magic and is completely indistinguishable from a normal Shitbot and is known for swapping helmets if he needs to better disguise himself.)

(The only things that give him away are if he chooses to let someone in on the joke by having his eyes transform into two burning balls of blue light and his girt big druidic stick he uses to cast his spells.)

(You may remember him from the time he turned Immundusia into a Dryad.)

(Number 14 was born when the Shitbots summoned an Arch-Demon into their firing range, gunned it down and jammed the heart into an empty chassis, just to see what would happen.)

(The creature birthed from this is a gaunt Shitbot with eyes that don't light up and a stuttering way of speaking, a bit like the G-Man from Half Life, when he is wearing his mask.)

(Under his mask lies a face so terrifying that everyone looking at it sees something different, as they struggle to process what it is and the picture their minds create end up reflecting their own personal fears.)

(Despite this, and the fact that he predominately feeds on the cursed souls of the dammed, he is probably one of the most friendliest and civil of all the Shitbots; with most people eventually getting used to his true appearance if they spend enough time around him.)

(Due to his nature, he has a lot of skill and knowledge in the dark arts, but generally prefers to act as a consultant in such matters.)

(Number 15 has got a lot of coverage lately, but as you pointed out, he's basically the Circle Cultist version of Blütgrindor.)

(As the number may suggest, since Number 14 turned out so well, the Shitbots decided to try the same thing using an Arch Angel instead; resulting in a being that is the almost polar opposite of his "Dark" brother.)

(Number 15 can fold up his wings to the point where they are not visible from the front and only really uses them when he's on the warpath.)

(Numbers 56 and 82 are a lot more complicated to explain.)

(The concept is that they are so terribly sane and logical, that they see literally everything for what it is.)

(So, where as we would see a "house", they would see "7346 lumps of fire-hardened clay arranged in a rectangular structure with three square holes sealed with non-crystallised heated silica sand frames and a rectangular hole sealed by a combination of 8 pine wood planks; topped with 567 fire-hardened clay tiles which taper to a point.")

(Because of this, they have worked out how to alter and change reality on a fundamental level.)

(For simplicities sake, imagine that not only do they have access to console commands for reality, but modding tools as well.)

>Also, say for a moment that the environment that the Shitbots were stranded in was, hypothetically, actively hostile to them and constantly trying to destroy them. Not the inhabitants of the location of their stranding, but the location itself. Just hypothetically.

(Their first port of call would be to work out what is happening and why.)

(Once they have done that, they will try and either adapt their own bodies to be better suited to the environment, build a machine to neutralise the issue in the area they are operating in; or do their best to ignore it, depending on how quickly and effectively it is able to destroy them.)

(If anything, they'd probably welcome the challenge as it gives them something to do; and as mentioned previously, due to essentially being a sentient Excel Spreadsheet, they don't really care about dying every now and then.)

(So if they are in a realm of existence that causes their bodies to corrode or decay over the period of a few days or longer; they'll probably stick around and see if they can find something interesting.)

(If they get repeatedly blasted by the Eye of Sauron after immediately entering the realm, they are more likely to get frustrated and stop bothering after a while unless there is an actual need to go poking around in there; in which case they will try and work out a better entrance point or enter en masse to try and overwhelm it.)

(And as you've probably gathered, each number correlates to an individual Shitbot, so if you find one that is Number 82753, than there are at least 82752 other Shitbots in existence.)

(I'm not as an in-depth a lore writer as you are, but I do intend for there to be Shitbots with names like 11-B which indicate that they have ran out of individual standalone numbers and have had to reset it back to the start, with the letter being used to distinguish between individuals with the same name.)

(This means that if they really want to find out what's happening somewhere, they can throw truly mind-boggling numbers at the problem.)

(The only reason why we're not currently drowning in robots is because the entire Shitbot race is spread out between multiple dimensions and across the entire universe; with the source of the Collective being some hideously complex and eldritch databank which houses the saved consciousness of. Every. Single. Shitbot. and all of the combined knowledge that they have acquired between them.)

(In order to upload their consciousness, a Shitbot needs to establish a connection to the Collective. Because of this, they tend to congregate and base themselves within, or nearby, one of the Collective's Data Streams.)

(To try and help you picture the Collective, imagine the below picture where the tentacles and fleshy bits are streams of numbers instead and this continually expanding mess twists and wraps itself throughout multiple dimensions and across an increasingly large part of the universe.)

(In theory, anyone can access and read this data, but doing so is incredibly difficult, as you not only need to discover it in the first place and translate it from the Shitbots original language from back from when they were flesh and blood, but you also need to find and extract the specific piece of information you need from the yawning abyss that is the Collective.)

(When forced to deal with dwindling supplies, they'll only keep the necessary amount of Shitbots operational at any one time.)

(As their requirements are pretty low to begin with, really only needing fuel for the Old Ones, ammo for their weapons and some spare parts in case of injury; they tend to get through supplies fairly slowly.)

(Because of that, they more often than not have time to come to grips with the situation; so seeing them panic about it is rare. Especially since death isn't something they have to worry about, so all running out of supplies is costing them is time and progress.)

(The only time you would see them getting really concerned about it would be if they had non-Shitbots on their team and the supplies they needed to survive started running out.)

(In which case, they would start to panic a bit as they try and work out a way of saving them; as the vast majority of living beings have this infuriating habit of just falling over dead for a bafflingly large number of reasons and seemingly at random as well.)

(Thank you all for attending my TED-Talk on my funny robot men.)

(I will now pass the mic on to Kaijin to discuss why Jaquobeain can't use his glorious moustache to deflect holy swords of divine wrath, as well as other common fallacies related to Undefinable Revelation.)

(Hmmm, that would actually serve as a good reason as for why Kommando and every other one of my OCs, especially Castiellea, opposes the Shitbots. Castiellea because she's supposed to be an absurdly advanced and evolved Human from an impossibly far-away future in an inconceivable alternate reality who's main task is protecting other Humanities from non-Human threats, especially ones that are inter-dimensional, time-traveling, reality warping, omnipresent, etc. So the Shitbots would literally fit the textbook definition of what to kill on sight for her. Add in the fact that she can do things such as exist in multiple dimensions at once, perceive the events of even more dimensions at once, completely collapse and obliterate entire realities on a whim and completely rewrite the laws of physics and nature however she pleases and create things out of seemingly nothing, I'd say that the Shitbots have some serious work on their hands. Oh, and she's also a leading member of the Shirleyists, alongside Kommando, the not-quite-Human-figure, Blütgrindor and a couple others.)

(Oh, and Jaquobeain can't use his glorious mustache to deflect anything because he's clean-shaven.)

(Also, what exactly would happen if say, somebody tampered with the Collective, do the Shitbots have an offline mode, I'm just saying, it'd be terrible if somebody just, cut the signal and 99.999% of the Circle Cult instantly went full-Phantom Menance in the middle of Blütgrindor hacking and slashing her way through the temple doors and making discomforting gestures and facial expressions at Sam?)

(This is at least the fourth hypothetical you've postulated.)

(I don't think you can "cut the signal" from something like that. That would be like being able to control where someone else is born after they die.)

(And even if, hypothetically, the Collective itself is harmed, what would that mean? Even without wireless signals, the shitbots can still talk and gesture to each other. Because it's so big, I highly doubt it's a centralized network. It has every one of their consciousness saved, but data can be copied and pasted, allowing a multitude of backup networks if one goes offline.)
(You'd have to isolate them one by one, as even just two shitbots in proximity to each other means the Collective may not be truly "dead". Also it would be better to do it simultaneously before the rest of them notice and react.)

The angel wondered..
Spiritual needs? That's not very specific, but I'll do my best.

It wasn't long until he was needed. As it turns out, two unnatural armies fighting each other to the death with tremendous power has instilled a sense of existential dread among many of the civilians.

will anyone think of the children!?

Yes, that's what I'm here for.

(To be honest, given that the Shitbot's main goal is to prevent everyone dying horribly, I'd like to think they are more likely than not to work with Castiellea rather than against her.)

(They are a force of good, because evil is short-lived and boring.)

(The Shitbot Collective as a whole doesn't really care about the Church of Shirley, the Circle Cult or any singular group or organisation that does not hold dominion over an entire galaxy or larger.)

(The current conflict is considered a local issue for the local Shitbot chapter.)

(It's like any other religious issue. The world at large doesn't care until there's a loud Whoompf sound coming from the kitchen window whilst your half way through breakfast.)

(Also, how human is human?)

(Remember the old saying ""https://www.belloflostsouls.net/2011/10/40k-lore-there-are-no-wolves-on-fenris.html">There are no wolves on Fenris".)

(Even the Shitbots were men once; long, long ago in ages dark and distant.)

(They are the end game for any tech-based human civilisation.)

(And as Olors pointed out, the Collective is just a data storage centre.)

(If it was somehow destroyed, every Shitbot would just congregate at a new place and spend some time building a new one from back-ups. It has no real effect on their operational ability.)

(In the meantime, all the threats and disasters they were holding back would come rushing in and throw the universe into utter turmoil.)

(It would be like cutting a leg off a table.)

(Sure, the table is mostly fine and although it's annoying, it's a simple and easy fix. The cups of coffee, biscuits and fine china that sailed off of it and smashed down upon the floor are going to be a much bigger issue.)

(Even if it worked as you suggested and knocked out all of the Mechanical Shitbots, you're still left with a bored Trickster Spirit, an angry demon, an extremely pissed-off angel and Number 56 and 82.)

(And I'm having trouble coming up with an example of how bad things would be if Number 56 and 82 were left to roam free and unrestrained, because you'd have to argue with them about everything and their default opinion on everyone who is not a Shitbot is that they are silly and don't know what they are talking about.)

(So there'd be no one around to remind them that perhaps making stars all banana shaped is maybe a bad idea, or that having organs on the inside of the body is not a passing fad.)

(Why would they do something so mad if they are as sane as it's possible to be?)

(Because logically it would work and it would be fine. It's just all of the factors around it that make it a terrible idea.)

(And it's because of this terrible idiocy that they can't simply be winked out of existence by another reality bender, because the universe would tell them to cease existing and they'd simply reply "Don't be silly, of course we do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be telling us we didn't." and then they'd go back to whatever retardedly terrible thing they were doing.)

(It's exactly like two kids playing Cops and Robbers in the playground and refusing to believe that they are dead because you clearly didn't hit them.)

(In the end, like the Lovecraftian god it basically is, the Collective will eventually be rebuilt and the Shitbots will return.)

(Whether they'll actually be any other living creatures, human or otherwise, when they come back?)

(Well…that'll depend on whether anyone else is going to step up and take on the mantle of responsibility in the meantime.)

Brother Olors was leading the weekly service in the make-shift chapel the Cult had constructed a few blocks away from the church to make sure the mortal worshippers of the Undeserving Circle were safe from any retaliatory attacks.

Hymns praising the benevolence of the Circle pleasantly filled the air with the congregation seeking solace in the soft, green glow of Olors' light.

At the conclusion of the service and after personally speaking to each member of the congregation, the crowd shuffled out, grateful for the words of wisdom that the angel of the circle had imparted on them this day.

Waiting for him outside the tent was Prime, who appeared to be conflicted and unsettled.

"Brother Olors. a moment of your time, if I may?"

Prime led Olors out of the city and to a quiet and secluded little woods on the outskirts. As he did so, he explained his predicament.

"I've been speaking to Hinokaizen and the rest of the Undefinable Rebels we've rescued from Death On High! and I feel they are a…bit lost."

"They clearly do not want to go back. At least, not to Undefinable Revelation, but they are unsure if any of the other Undefinable Legions would be better, or even just outright surrender them back to the radicals."

"They still believe in Shirley, but do not understand why we are fighting as once you get past the propaganda, we hold pretty much the same beliefs and morals."

"They are not even sure if they still want to fight, let alone for what and for who."

"It seems they have finally had to come face to face with that dreaded question "Now what?" and are unsure where to turn."

"Would you mind just having a chat with them, see if you can help them at all? "

Stomping through a half-visible path through the woods, they came into a small clearing in the trees where the Undefinable Rebels were lying in the grass, enjoying being in human forms for the first time in aeons. Hinokaizen sat on the ground watching squirrels chase each other through the trees in an almost trance-like state.

"I will be nearby if you need me. Good luck, Brother Olors."

The angel approached the scene, turning invisible as he drew near

How strange…
Despite the apparent differences, there aren’t many after all.

Shirley.. Circle.. it seems… almost arbitrary, doesn’t it.

A long, long time ago, there was a small but fertile land where multitudes of people lived. It was a divisive place, literally and figuratively. Numerous cults developed, each with their own gods or sets of gods.
Unfortunately, due to this lack of unity, they were frequently the target of invasion from the larger, more unified empires east and west.
One tribe, or rather, twelve tribes, had another approach. They would instead reject any physical representation of God, and God, being the greatest of them all, has no equal. In fact, the belief is that there is no other god, aka monotheism.
As this was a radical idea at the time, they suffered fierce resistance, from within the region and outside. Nevertheless, they endured.
In fact, they outlived not only the local cults, but even entire civilizations that formerly opposed them. Thousands of years later, and monotheism became the norm, having largely outgrown its humble beginnings.

Although Judaism, Christianity, and Islam may seem to lack unity today, it’s still impressive how, in my timeline at least, Islam and Christianity are universal religions with over a billion followers each. They’re certainly doing more than a few things right, that’s for sure.

Peace may seem ever-distant, but it’s not impossible. When we focus more on what we have in common, then our differences can be better seen more as disagreements rather than things to “settle”.

(So, weird question, we know about Numbers 1, 14, 15, 56 and 82, but who are Prime and MCC, exactly?)

(A few hours after the Silent Reactor is stabilised.)

"…and that is why we won the war!"

Sam stared blankly at the white board in the main office, down to her note book, back to the white board and then finally back to Soup King Prime.

"I'm sorry Boss, but I just don't understand how we won this war."

Prime politely didn't facepalm at this and instead brought up the pointer one more time to the score table written on the white board.

"That is fine. I will go through each point and if you do not understand it, let me know and I will explain it."

"Ok!"

Prime moved the pointers to the first section entitled "War Objectives" and tapped the first ballpoint.

Objective 1: Free the Undefinable Rebels from captivity and use them to learn more about Undefinable Revelation

"This was achieved in the opening stages of the war and the results have exceeded all of our expectations. Thus, we get a victory point."

"But Boss, all they've mostly been doing is lazing around the woods and discussing philosophy with Olors."

"Exactly! Out of all the things that could have happened, this is definitely one of the better outcomes."

Objective 2: Carry out a sufficient show of strength to act as a warning to Undefinable Revelation.

"Using nothing but four Shitbots and only a few thousand drones, we forced Death On High! into a state of full mobilisation. Thus, we get a point."

"But Boss, wasn't it the ten thousand Dodecaheathenists that made them fully mobilise? I'm pretty sure the drones in the palace were wiped out by, like, six dudes."

"The point still stands!"

Objective 3: Clear out the Drone Warehouses so we can make space for the new models.

"Er…Boss. Did you let all those drones get destroyed on purpose?"

"Well, it was either having them go on a suicide attack or scrapping them."

"And…this counts as a victory point why?"

"Because Silicon Heaven gained many a fine guardian this day."

Unnoticed by Sam, a single tear of WD40 ran down Prime's face plate as he said this.

Prime moved the marker to the next section, titled: "Additional Victory Points".

Number 56 and 82 have made a friend.

"Er…does this really count as a "War Victory" boss?"

"For those two? Yes!"

Not blowing up.

"Boss, surely that should be a point for the Undefinables as they're the ones who stopped the Silent Reactor exploding?"

"Not getting vaporised in a multi-dimensional explosion is a victory in and of itself."

Instigating a Communist Insurrection at Kaijin Industries Ltd.

"Boss, we were going to do this anyway. Why does this count as a victory point?"

"Because it is neutralising an important supply line and sows division between two hostile allied factions. That is a strategic victory."

Pissing Blütgrindor off.

"But Boss, she's always pissed."

"And just imagine how much angrier she is going to get once all those drone heads sprout legs in a few hours time, crawl into the deepest crevices they can find and start singing Agadoo as loudly as they can until their batteries die."

"Well, I guess that explains why you had us putting two faceplates on each of them."

Prime then moved the marker to the section entitled "Undefinable War Objectives".

Not dying like a bitch.

"I think we can both agree that they succeeded in achieving this."

He then moved the marker to the last section, which was "Additional Undefinable Victories"

Wiping out the Dodecaheanthenist schweinehunds.

"Er…shouldn't they get more than one point for this, since they were, like, fighting them in five places at once?"

"One point!"

"Even though it was pretty funny and kept us entertained whilst there was nothing on TV?"

"Two points!"

Prime made a small adjustment to the white board and wrote in the new total.

"As you can see, this brings the score to 7:3, which means that we won the war!"

Sam sucked on the end of her pencil as she tried to process the rather convoluted logic being presented to her.

"But…when the Undefinables attack us back, won't they get more points?"

"They were attacking us anyway. I do not see why we would include any future attacks as part of this specific conflict."

"And…shouldn't they be given points for killing MCC and Number 15?"

"Honestly, that one's a tie. Those buggers hold grudges like no one’s business."

"Really, Boss?"

"MCC once got so pissed off that he repeatedly yeeted himself into the engines of an enemy starship until they died and then he hurled himself at the craft until it got caught in the gravity well of the nearest star and burned up."

"Eek…I'm glad he's on our side."

"So am I."

Sam scribbled a couple more notes down into her note book

"So…what you are saying is that we lost…successfully?"

Prime clapped his has hands and followed it up with a jubilant fist pump into the air.

"Yes! You've got it! I knew you were smart, well done!"

Prime is just the title of the lead Shitbot.

Depending on how far back you want to take things, Number 1 is Prime; although more recently, he's just been an average Shitbot who just happens to be in overall charge.

Primes tend to be the oldest, most experienced Shitbots present at the time, so they tend to have the lowest numbers in the group.

MCC is one of the Soldier Shitbots, which are just like regular Shitbots, but much more militarily focused.

These are distinguished from the others by having their numbers being in Roman Numerals and some sort of insignia on their body identifying their current rank and which squad, company, division and army they are a part of.

I suppose you could say that MCC is middle-aged in terms of experience.

He knows what he's doing and has been in enough scraps to be a solid shot and a decent CQC fighter.

However, he still hasn't learned to keep his head cool and has a nasty habit of getting in way over his head and being subsequently killed as a result.

He doesn't take losing very well, so if he's not pulled in, he can get stuck in a cycle of attrition where he constantly throws himself at a foe until they eventually crack; no matter how many times he has to personally die in the process.

Eureka!
Tell the undefinables their time is close at hand, for I have found the item that shall grant the CQC it's victory.
It is a black cube, of about the same size of a regular apple but in itself lie multiple dimensions, realities and planets to which the Undefinables will be teleported to.
Does Blütgrindor not care to see all her family and friends getting horribly maimed and evicerated in front of her very eyes while she herself is torn limb from limb? Then how about being teleported to a planet where the only thing that exists is haggis? Or another one where liver and onions are the only thing that remain?
Not hungry? Then how about a whole dimension where the only sound are bagpipes music or festive disco polka?
Yes sir, yes sir, all this horrendously grim tortures with no posssible way of scaping (unless the Holey One decides so) will all be your fate for an eternity.

Kommando laughed as he watched the Circle Cultists huddled around the black cube in Quiet_boi's hand.

"It appears that Quiet_boi has found the little gift your friend has left him, Castiellea…" Kommando said as he turned to Castiellea and the purple-robed woman that stood next to her.

"When the Shitbots and their allies attempt to use the cube, it won't trap Undefinable Revelation in a nightmarish Hellscape… but them instead!!!" The purple-robed woman laughed.

"As much as I don't like asking for her help, her unique disregard for abstaining from conflict and devious tactics makes her invaluable to our efforts." Castiellea commented.

"Ssssirrrr! They arrrrrre about to tesssssst the cube!" The not-quite-Human figure said as they all resumed watching the spy camera feed.

The black cube sucked in the Circle Cultists and then expanded to cover the entire Circle Cult Temple. Once it covered every inch of the temple, it released an explosion that deleted the structure and the ground beneath it from existence.

"Yes!" Kommando cheered. "The Circle Cult is obliterated… forever!!!" He declared.

"Now, to dance on his British grave in a way so disrespectful that not even Pakistan would approve!" Kommando said. "Open up Amelie's little business…"

Immediately, the pit was filled with dirt and a large building was erected where the temple once stood. As the sign was unveiled, several large French flags unfurled and hung off of the front of the building, the sign lit up to read "Amelie's French Emporium and Restaurant."

"Bonjour! I'm so glad to finally have the opportunity to start my own business!" Amelie cheered from beneath heavy clothing complete with sunglasses and a sun hat she wore in order to protect her albino skin from the sun.

"NO!!! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Soup King cried in agony as the Hellscape permitted him to view these events solely to break his soul.

Quiet_boi stared in horror at the Forum Post pinned to the top of KYM's General Forums, labeled: Site Rules Update: Tomboys and other Waifus banned.

Olors64 found himself standing in front of a bridge in a snowy forest, he was a short skeleton wearing a blue hoodie. This all seemed familiar in a ominous and foreboding way. Suddenly, a banjo riff sounded behind him and none other than Jenna MacMadeth appeared behind him, holding a freakishly large knife. "I'm gonna make you squeal like a pig…" She said with a sinister grimace on her face as she towered above him.

Sam was in a black void, there was nothing in front of her except a screen. It turned on and the entire internet was filled with memes calling her a shit-tier waifu and accusing her of ruining all Tomboys by association.

(This isn't canon or anything, I just wanted to ruin Quiet_boi's plan.)

As Quiet Boi was describing different planets and dimensions for Blütgrindor to go, the angel remembered the sheer quantity of hells out there.
He didn’t ignore the thought, and continued to dwell on them.
He even had a daymare (nightmares don’t happen for someone like him) where he was Sans, except he heard a banjo.

Gradually, his --KR-- decreased, and his trauma went away.

Once the angel noticed his powers returning, he immediately concentrated to the stage where the Circle dwells.

(Bruh, the Holey One itself gave me that cube, I saw it make that cube with my very eyes and only it can control it.
Besides, where's the mention of any of the worlds I mentioned? Like, not even the endless pit of sharp coffee table corners? The Holey one may be the holiest and holeiest thing in the multiverse but it's sympathy for destructive and unredeemable heretics such as the Indefinables Revelations is pretty low)

(im not as good at coming up with several elaborate scenarios to put it all in the same post. whenever I come up with an idea, it usually gets posted the same day.)

(It's a good thing this isn't canon, otherwise it would have meant that the French were able to take over your factory and that would have been the worse fate of all!)

(In over my entire year of experience in dealing with their border force, I can count the number of times they've actually done their job properly on one hand.)

(I have no idea how France functions and the fact that it does is a clear sign of treachery, devilry and all other bad -rys.)