Week 115

Sensing opportunity, Kissinger gave the command. “Now is the time! Attack the airplane! Kill the beasts, and bring Putin to der Red Tsar!”

Takei was first into the air. He turned to Kissinger, batted his eyes, and coyly said, “We’ll be greeted as liberators”—then he jumped.

Kissinger cocked his head upon hearing the quote, nostalgically remembering proud little Richard Cheney strutting about in his gimp suit.

Kanye stood nearby, next to a waist-high robot squire holding a bulging duffel bag. Arianna couldn’t stop herself: “What’s that for?”

Yeezy gave her a look of mixed contempt and pity. “Wardrobe changes. You think I’m gonna fight this whole battle in the same outfit?”

With that, he pulled on his Maison Martin Margiela tile mask, unfurled his sequined angel wings, and he and the robot leapt off the plateau.

Arianna turned to Kissinger and rolled her eyes. “Why is that idiot here?” Henry shrugged. “‘808s and Heartbreak’ is a great album.”

Shaking her head, Huffington encased herself in an orb of telekinetic energy and launched into the air, following her teammates to the K-7.

Takei and Kanye touched down on top of the giant aircraft. Takei unsheathed his katana, plunged it into the airfoil, and carved a long arc.

Kanye reached down and peeled back the aluminum. He told his robot squire to wait outside, then jumped, following Takei into the K-7.

Kissinger and Huffington were close behind. The four intruders stood in an ornate hallway decorated with black velvet portraits of Putin.

From beneath his droopy eyelid, Kissinger surveyed the hall and pointed. “Ve’ll head to the cockpit. Putin’s sure to be there.”

Sitting in his captain’s chair, C-4 nestled happily on his lap, Putin watched the quartet on a monitor. He scratched the little dog’s head.

“Can you believe they expected to surprise me that easily?” he asked the pup, then turned to Black Ops at the control panel. “Ready?”

Black Ops blinked his weird goat eyes and bleated an “Affirmative!” Putin nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent.

“Release the bees, and the dogs, and the dogs with bees in their mouths so when they bark they shoot bees at you,” Putin commanded.

Black Ops hesitated. “Sir … we don’t have any of those things.” Putin frowned with frustration. “Well, what do we have?”

“Bombs, lasers, stuff like that.” Putin was clearly disappointed. “OK, but next time we do something like this, I want the dogs with bees.”

“Yes sir!” replied Black Ops, as he turned back to his controls. Out in the hallway, the Order members continued racing toward them.

Running at top speed, his vision obscured by the black silk gauze of his mask, Kanye never saw the tripwire snap up from the floor.

He did notice, however, the explosion the tripwire triggered. It burst from the wall to his right and sent him flying across the hallway.

Kissinger’s eyes grew wide, and his jowls puffed out in shock. In his dated German colloquialisms, he shouted, “Ve’ve been made! Cheeze it!”

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