—Eight Weeks Ago—
In an alternate universe
Many light years away, in an alternate universe, an army approached a massive planet, weapons at the ready. The commanding ship held Trident, the leader of the galactic resistance called the Retrabán. Behind him came up many of his close captains and majors, and he looked to them and nodded as they neared the silver and gray planet.
Trident: He can't hide from us now, boys. Pronged, fire a warning shot.
Pronged: You got it.
He pressed a button on his massive ship and fired a small projectile that seemed to just float off into space.
Trident: Pronged! What the hell was that!?
Pronged: Wait for it...
The small item gets closer to the planet.
Pronged: Wait for it...
It enters atmosphere and starts to fall towards the surface.
Pronged: Wait for it...
The item seemed to hit the ground and nothing happened.
Crewmate: *chuckles*
Crewmate: *laughs hysterically*
Pronged: Hey! Shut your goddamn mouths! It's just a dela-
The small item exploded into a massive ball of plasma and fire, decimating an entire chunk of the planet. Trident stood in amazement at what he was witnessing. The crewmates mouths dropped open in amazement.
Trident: Holy shit! T-That was awesome, Pronged! Ahem...I mean...Great work.
Pronged: You don't always have to be so uptight around others, Trident. Let loose once in a while. When's the last time you got laid?
Trident: ...Never. Now can we focus on the mission or-
Pronged: Bull...shit.
Trident: What? How do you expect someone to get laid when we are in deep space? And seriously? We are talking about this? Now?
The other leaders, commanders, and crewmates slowly started to back away from the awkward conversation.
Pronged: There's a lot of ladies on my ship, Trident. I'll let you have one for a night.
Trident: Ew. No. I'm not participating in sexual intercourse with a woman you had an orgy with.
Pronged: When do I ever have orgies?
Trident looked at him like he was stupid.
Pronged: Okay, two times a week, maybe three, but I'm serious on this one!
Trident: Give me a chance to scout out the place, then we'll talk.
Pronged: I'll pick the perfect one for you! What type?
Trident makes up a random combination just to get his friend away from him.
Trident: *muttering* Brunette...blue eyes...or brown. I don't care.
Pronged: Curvy? Busty?
Trident: I don't care! Now can I go!?
Pronged: Yeah...I guess so.
Pronged's radio suddenly goes off and a hologram of a neatly suited person appears and both Pronged and Trident stand in position.
Trident: Mr. President! You placed an, unexpected call.
YOU ARE READING
Our Destiny
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