The Patriots – Part 6: Iron and Gold

The Patriots were sitting in the penthouse suite of the Rockford Hotel. They were currently without orders, as Lord Rockford had gone off to Scotland for business reasons, taking his secretary Julia with him. Walter watched as Bill boorishly cheered and thrusted his pelvis while watching replays of the best Dutch football victories on TV. Dietrich and Percy were discussing their disdain for the high Jewish population in London. All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door.

“We have a delivery for a Mr. Tadworth!” a voice on the other end called out. Walter nodded and darted towards the door.

“That would be me,” Walter said as he opened the door. The deliveryman was carrying a white briefcase that read “Tadworth Technologies” on him.

“Great, just sign for it,” the deliveryman replied. Walter, shaking with glee, yanked the clipboard and hastily scribbled his name on the form.

“Thank you,” Walter giggled. “You know what, I’m feeling generous. Take this tip.” In what was a vulnerable move of humility, Walter pulled a recently acquired £50 note from his wallet and handed it to the deliveryman. Before he could react, Walter closed the door and returned to the Patriots.

“What have you got there?” Percy called out.

“Gentlemen, this is the future,” Walter announced. “Dietrich, I think you’ll like this one.” Walter opened the briefcase to reveal Project Gauntlet, a metallic white and gold glove. Walter placed it on his hand and held it out for the Patriots to see.
“Watch this,” Walter smirked. The white and gold gauntlet on his hand emitted millions of nanobots, forming a suit of armor around Walter. When it finished forming, two rocket boosters ignited and sent him flying into the sky. He soared around the night sky of London, cheering with awe. This was real flight; unlike any private jet he had ever ridden on. He made his way to the area of Islington, where he came across the office of a prominent metalworkers union. Disgusted at the socialist temple of collective bargaining, he unleashed several heat seeking missiles onto the office, watching with glee as it erupted into flames, as the burning workers screamed and begged for help. He laughed and headed back to the hotel, where the suit began to unravel before the eyes of Percy, Dietrich, and Bill.

“I’d like to see you do that with your gadgets,” Walter scoffed, wiping his shoulder off in Percy’s direction.

“Did you just blow up a union building?” Percy clamored. “I mean, personally, I love that, but you know how much work it’s going to take to cover that up? You’ve fucked us over!”

“Get your MI6 boys on it then,” Walter smirked. “So, anything else you’d like to see blown up?”

“If I had to pick,” Percy mused. “The Baitul Futuh Mosque.”

“But of course, I’d like the West London Synagogue,” Dietrich chuckled.

“Ideally, I’d say Celtic Park,” Bill chimed in. “But I think Glasgow is kinda far, so I’ll say the Westminster Cathedral.”

“I like how you think, but we’ll have to do these in due time.” Walter laughed and rested his arm on Percy’s shoulder. “Our good friend Devereaux needs to clean up our mess.”

“Our mess?” Percy screamed. “That was all you, you bullheaded American! I ought to kill you!”

Percy pulled out his pistol and shot at Walter, but nanobots formed armor once again, deflecting all the bullets. Walter retaliated by blasting Percy with a beam of energy, sending him flying back and colliding with Bill.

“You make Orange Man mad!” Bill screamed, his face turning orange in frustration. His muscles began to grow, tearing through his clothes. Walter began blasting Bill with more energy beams, and Percy began shooting, attempting to subdue the brute.

“YOU ARE DONE!” a booming voice called out. The Patriots looked to see a seething Lord Rockford walked into the penthouse. He held up his cane, and three bolts of lightning emitted from it. One hit Walter, disabling his nanobots and causing him to fall over. One hit Percy, causing him to seize up and foam at the mouth. One hit Bill, causing him to knock out and revert to his normal size. After this, Lord Rockford commanded Dietrich to administer the proper medicine to all three of them. Once they were recovered, Lord Rockford sat them all down and began to lecture them.

“You have sincerely caused me to doubt this project,” the lord began. “You are supposed to be the cream of the crop, the elite of humanity, and yet you’ve been fighting amongst yourselves like a bunch of subhumans! You know what, perhaps the Romans were right when they described Germanic peoples as barbaric, because that’s all you’ve shown me!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Percy croaked. “It appears we have irreconcilable differences.”

“Well then I suppose we let the Pakis win, now don’t we?” Lord Rockford sneered. “This infighting is precisely the reason why the Germanic people are falling from grace. Roosevelt and Churchill had irreconcilable differences with their Teutonic brother Hitler, and now look at the state of things! My God, it’s almost like you’re double agents for the forces of darkness.”

“Never, milord,” Walter barked. “Your wisdom and fortitude are unparalleled; you are truly a god amongst men. We require your leadership to truly be unified.”

“Well, thank you, Walter,” Lord Rockford said. “When you explain it like that, it puts things into perspective. You are all each individually exceptional in your own rights, but you require my leadership to delegate your duties as a successful team. Consider the Patriot Initiative back in business.”

The Patriots high fived and shook each other’s hands, forgiving each other for their trespasses against one another. Lord Rockford smiled and took a seat, removing his hat.

“Uh, sir,” Bill chimed in. “Where’s Julia? I kinda wanted to have a go with her.”

“Ah, let me explain,” Lord Rockford groaned. “It turns out that my dear Julia was a damn traitor. She was passing on information about the initiative to an Indian terrorist, a brutish thug by the name of Bhivan Singh.”

“Well, where is that terrorist?” Percy barked. “I want to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Oh, I’ve already taken care of him, Percy.” A smirk began to spread across the lord’s noble Anglo-Teutonic face. “He was utterly obliterated in a nuclear testing chamber in Scotland. I left the bitch with him.”

“Ah, that is beautiful,” Dietrich laughed. “If only Germany had achieved nuclear power, we could’ve obliterated all the Untermenschen like that.”

“Ah, if only,” Lord Rockford sighed. “But no matter, what is important is that we are all here. Let us celebrate for tonight.” Lord Rockford called for champagne to be brought to the penthouse, and the Patriots all toasted to their bright white future.