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Planet of the Rovers

by Scott Oliverson


     Sergant Exile walked down the main corridor of nWo headquarters.
 He had returned to the city as soon as the sun rose, to inform General
Hunter of his failure and the escape of the humans. He had ridden hard
to bring the bad news, and he fully expected that every step of his
galloping horse sped him nearer to his own execution. As he approached
Hunter's office, the general stepped out and brushed past Exile, a grim
look on his face. Exile whirled and fell into step.

Where is he, the CHOSEN ONE?
They crossed the river comrade general.
               HUNTER <Growls>
You didn't stop them.

     It was more a statement than a question...

They were carried by horses.

     Hunter stopped and turned to glare at his 2nd In Command nose to

Horses? What do you mean horses.
Our horses comrade.

     The change that came over the general was as startling as it was
sudden. One moment Hunter was standing there with that cold,
calculating look on his face. The next he was bouncing off the walls,
shouting at the top of his lungs, tearing away tapestries, beating his
chest in anger and screaming like TARZAN! In one great leap he jumped
up and grabbed hold of a chain that suspended a chandelier. He hung
there, howling out his rage. As it swung beneath his weight, he drew
his sword and slashed at it. The chain snapped and the chandelier
plummeted to the ground, shattering into a million splinters. Hunter
rode it to the ground. Then rose out of the shards of glass and metal,
once again fully civilized. As quickly as it had come, his anger was
gone. Hunter looked at Exile and said.

Forgive me. I'm not angry at you, sergant. My father Steele has been
taken away from me.

     Exile wrapped Hunter in his arms. Close as they were, it was
the first time the general had given Exile that most familiar of Rover
sentiments, and Exile was both honored and startled by it. As Hunter
released him, Exile stammered.

He...he was a great leader. Your family are direct descendents of Pyro.
 Now it is time for you to lead the New World Order, comrade general.

     For a brief moment, Exile sensed some inner power in Hunter,
something of the blood of the devine Pyro from whom he had sprung. But
Hunter did not speak the words of a messiah. Instead, he spoke the
words of a general filled with his own ambition.

From the divisions of the nWo, we are going to war. <Smiles evilly>

               END OF PART XVIII

               Proceed to Chapter 19