Phoenix screamed at the top of his lungs as he and his Starry army (his Starmy) began to charge.

His grubby face was painted black and flecked with little white dots, all of his adventurer's weapons plus plenty more items he'd picked up from Mount Butt clinging to every conceivable hook, pouch or bandolier possible. It had been a long while since he threw a proper grenade, and he was very much looking forwards to it.

A veritable swarm of cultists ran after him, weapons of all sizes (but not shapes - there was only one shape the Starry people liked) held aloft. There were ceremonial spears galore, plus plenty of star-shaped axes, maces, cudgels and morning stars, and of course a solitary tewhatewha. The Constellator herself gripped a well-crafted metal sword, with a glittering, golden star-shaped cross guard. Her armour hugged her figure as if made for it, a truly spectacular suit of armour the likes of which Phoenix did not know even existed in the Waste. It even had a plated starry halo rising up behind her collar and over her head, which itself was encased in a star-shaped full-face helmet.

She screamed.

He screamed.

They all screamed for ice cream.

And blood.

* * *

"Tornado! Tornado!"

Something was coming, and it was something big. Very few were in a position to see what it actually was, and the rest just had to listen and try to discern what threat loomed on the horizon this time. It came on a wave of beeps and bops, some type of brass instrument played with the enthusiasm of a life-long dreamer, but the skill of a pile of steaming shit - with lips. Additionally, the ground started to tremble, reverberating with the drumming of many feet pounding closer and closer and closer. The wind howled and screeched all around, whistling past people's ears and pushing, always pushing, to topple them over. Dust kicked up large coughs, splashing dust, tiny stones and unsuspecting insects into the eyes of the equally unsuspecting humans. Then came the voices: the taunts and battle cries bounding over the undulating landscape at the head of what many could now see to be a vast horde of weaponised cultists.

"Burn the Unworthy!"

"Slay them all!"

"Eat their hearts and step on their kidneys!"

Ripples of worry moved through the ranks. Bandits on the Farm side shuffled their feet uneasily, not sure whether to turn around and face this new threat or to remain facing forwards, a bulwark against Bert's Battalion. All eyes, as they so often do in these situations, fell to their superiors for support.

Bert was locked in a furious internal debate when she heard the tell-tale bugle sounds of an incoming Starry surprise. She was on the verge of taking Farmer Brown into the bar and having a proper, reasonable debate, a conversation where the outcome genuinely wasn't anything to do with mutilation - not even a little bit. It was something she hadn't expected, but yet, here she was all the same. But she still didn't know whether she could trust him. In fact, she was damn sure she couldn't. But she couldn't trust anyone.

Adapt.

Help Brown, cut a deal to minimise her Tax rate, reap the financial benefits, then deal with it at the time if he ends up getting too powerful.

For crying out loud, Bert thought to herself as the bugle grew louder, and the wailing battle cries of violence and stars only got more disturbing. Of all the times for Phoenix to arrive...

Brown noticed at much the same time, but he had no prior experience with this particular genre of crazy, and quite frankly, didn't really know what to do. Pivoting on the column of granite he called a body, the big lord turned back towards his people. He craned his head upwards, towering over the bandit army like a human periscope. Over their bobbing heads, he watched as the entire Starmy crossed over the top of a shallow hill, spears in the air, mouths screaming. It was an entire sea of black figures, a crashing steel-tipped wave rolling straight for the bandit line. And to make matters worse, behind them was the roiling, thrashing wall of a dust storm eagerly bounding after it.

In a flash, Brown was looking back over his shoulder at Bert, his look so twisted with rage it made her skin crawl. His lips curled into a snarl and spittle hung out of his mouth, clinging on as the soundwaves of a deep growl exploded out of his jaws.

"What th' hell is this, woman?" he roared. "You tryin' t' trick me into peace while yer friends come an' hit my flank?"

Bert scowled and shook her head, offended that he would accuse her of such underhanded tactics regardless of whether or not it may or may not have been, technically, true. "You angry son of a bitch, how about you keep your head on, alright? You're right, that's my second army over there - and yeah, I have a second army, I told you I was gonna kick your ass outta my place, didn't I? But I can stop it just as easily so cool your shit and move aside."

Bert stormed past his big form, making sure to bump into his arm on the way past (even though she couldn't possibly push him aside. It was a principle kind of thing). Next she ploughed into the Farm bandits, violently grabbing at them with her human hand and manhandling them out of the way. Some of them tried to resist, understanding on some instinctual level that she shouldn't be amid their ranks, but a swift punch across the face from her locked left hand showed them a better way. She had to properly kick her way through the last few bandits, who weren't paying enough attention to avoid being hammered - understandable, considering the circumstances. She finally struggled and punched through a couple of final burly figures - who turned out to be two figures conjoined somewhere at the face and whom Bert realised, a bit late, that she couldn't pass through between - before stepping out into the open Waste and staring down Phoenix's approaching lines.

She smirked slightly at the edge of her face, proud of what Phoenix had rallied together. It truly was a magnificent sight. Phoenix ran ahead of the crowd, weapon out, screaming at the top of his lungs until he ran out of breath, had to stop, and then started screaming again, while all around him were more cultists than she thought even existed. Their one army vastly outnumbered Farmer Brown's, and might have even outnumbered Brown's and Bert's Battalion combined into one. And they were all here, unless Phoenix had fucked up, to save Smack-dab. It was almost ironic, being rescued by the very same group she shot at mere days earlier, but then, that was the Waste for you. You really did have to prepare for anything.

Anyway, standing ahead, or rather, behind, the Farm forces, Bert glared out at Phoenix and raised her hands for him to stop. She yelled much the same, trying to throw her voice over the din of the wind and stampede combined, not to mention the clamour for arms behind her.

Miraculously, the army stopped. Indeed, Phoenix and the other pack leader skidded to a halt first, followed rank by rank of cultist soldiers. Dust rose in surprised wisps at their feet, trailing off into the smog as confused Starry faces looked to each other, then their leaders.

Then Bert noticed the strip of brown grease coming closer. It looked like, after a certain distance, the Waste vanished - was gobbled up, even - by a huge sepia wall. The strip towered so high into the sky that it was even attacking the smog.

Oh crap, she thought. That's just perfect.

Anybody trying to fight in that mess was going to be in for a hell of a time, especially if they didn't have adequate eye and mouth protection. Basically anything uncovered was going to be in for a bad day. Waste storms were not known for being gentle on skin.

Bert spun to go and warn the other leaders and...

...face planted straight into the monolith of Farmer Brown.

"Ya got 'em t' stop, eh?" he stated, his rib cage vibrating like a loudspeaker in Bert's face. He lashed out next, gripping her collar and lifting her into the air once more. But Bert was done being lifted this week. This time she had her weapon in hand and jammed into his cheek before she was even fully off her toes, attempting to keep her expression stern and confident despite the strain of hanging from one's collar.

Brown seemed to ignore the weapon, allowing it only the briefest of reactions. He stared deep into her eyes, his teeth visible beneath chunky lips. "Now tell 'em t' walk real close an' put their weapons down," he ordered.

"They won't attack, you giant sack of meat," Bert retorted. "I just ordered them to stop. Now put me down before I pull the trigger and we see what constitutes for a brain inside that thick skull of yours."

He grunted under his breath, and it sounded like a frustrated swear. Bert wondered if she was finally getting under his skin. He frowned, a loud gesture considering the size of his features, and then placed her back on the ground. Bert, in response, withdrew her weapon and returned it to its holster.

"There, that wasn't so bad, huh?" she said. "Now let's go inside and talk - talk - about this plan of yours to make me rich, OK? We'll see what we can do about this obsession with Tax you have."

Now, all of this was all and good and well and nice, but it's not what Phoenix saw...

* * *

Moments before...

Phoenix, riding a wave of adrenalin he hadn't felt since his last battle with a rogue pine tree, was about ready to start taking shots at the bandit line. His rifle, even at such a range, would have no issue knocking a few heads off a few necks. Plus, the adventurer didn't really have to aim, just sort-of point at the mass of necks and pull the trigger. He was bound to hit a few. Secretly, he especially desired that damned robot's head, with its beady little bulb-face-eye-thing and, and it's stupid antenna.

But then he saw Bert. She was struggling with a freaky conjoined twin monster, pushing at him - them, rather - and slapping them with her robo-fist. It was nice to see her still alive and being Bert, that is, hitting people with her robo-fist, but something seemed wrong. Why was she amid the Farmers? Unless...

...unless she had been captured! Oh it was a disaster, Phoenix panicked. She was trying to fight through the crowd to get to the safety of his manly arms, but had been grabbed at the last minute by the four-armed, one-faced thingamabob. She was even waving at him and yelling his name, and boy did she look terrible.

Correction, Phoenix thought. She looked amazing, because she always did. But she looked a more terrible version of it. Her arms were all bruised, her clothes were filthy, and her neck looked like it might have been glowing red - but it was hard to tell at this distance. She seemed to be avoiding using her left hand, too. Either that or she was just keeping it in a fist for some weird reason. No, it was definitely being avoided. It must have broken in the scuffle.

Phoenix scrunched his face in anger. Those dungarees-wearing bastards must have disabled it to prevent her from being a bad-ass threat. Those mother fu-

The Constellator stopped. Phoenix skidded to a halt next to her. Then the entire Starmy clattered to an ungainly stop a few seconds later.

Phoenix, exasperated, ran in front of his companion and looked between her and the enemy. "Why the hell did you stop?!" he cried, growing panicky.

She cocked her head back at him, resting her sword on her shoulder. "Isn't she asking us to cease, Oh Bringer of Dreams?"

"What?" Phoenix replied. "Look at her!"

Affirming his greatest fears, the nightmarish monster of Farmer Brown ambled through the line of bandits, stared out with his meaty, square face at Phoenix's proud and mighty army, and then gripped Bert by the collar, lifting her into the air. She held her pistol to his head, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"You call that asking us to stop? We have to charge before it's too late!" Phoenix could hardly contain himself. He kept running a few paces forwards, turning desperately back to the Constellator, and then running back.

The Constellator herself stared at the scene, humming with thought. "It ... doth look quite unfriendly. But she was definitely asking us to cease before. The Constellations be'th witness, she was asking us to cease."

Phoenix was in disbelief. Bert could be killed at any moment, and here he was standing having a bloody debate about it. What would Sandra Bulletface do in a situation like this? Why she'd, she'd just bloody run in there with bullets, and, and her face.

"Mighty Const- Mighty leader of the Starry people, I demand that you start charging again. I am the Bringer of Dreams! I have spoken!"

"But-"

"No! Every second we waste is another that this shitshow steps closer to being more shit and less show. We need to strike hard and fast. And that means striking now! While the enemy is in disarray."

The Constellator remained silent a moment, staring at the exchange between Brown and Bert.

Phoenix stepped in to block her gaze, his eyebrows sailing at the top of his forehead.

She met his eyes, then sighed. "Alright ... for the Dreams."

Phoenix let out a breath of relief. "For the Dreams."

The Starry people looked anxious, breathing hard on the spot after their lengthy march and partial charge. They all awaited the word to come down, their weapons hungry for hearts and kidneys and various other organs. The Constellator turned to face them, casting an eye across all of them. Then, she lifted her sword high in the air (aloft) and bellowed at the top of her lungs. "For the Dreams!"

Their faces brightened instantly. "FOR THE DREAMS!"

And then they started sprinting.

* * *

Farmer Brown roared louder than Bert had heard before, so loud she thought her ear drums might rupture. "Ooh ya tricked me again, ya lyin', two-faced bitch!" he screamed. Then he lashed out with two hammy fists to grasp her clothing, hefting her high into the air (also aloft) and tossing her away like a toy doll he had lost an argument to.

Bert soared through the air, not sure what the hell was going on. In a heap of limbs and curses, she slammed hard into the dust, rolling a few times before coming to a halt somewhere between the two bandit lines. She felt the ground vibrate once again as not only an army approached at full speed, but Brown stomped with heavy feet, bellowing orders at his troops.

"Kill them all!" he cried, face almost bursting from the blood. "Drown th' dust in their blood an' wipe this pathetic bar from the Waste!"

Bert quickly scrambled to her feet, muttering all the while. She glanced up to see Sir Robert coming to her flank, Toddrick and Doris on the other side. Their weapons were out, ready and gripped tight.

"What the devil is happening, Berty? It looked like peace for a moment there," said Sir Robert, now having to shout over the noise of the Farm army (Farmy) reshuffling into a battle group capable of fighting on two fronts.

Bert, truthfully, didn't have the answer to that question, but she knew deep down that it ended with the name "Phoenix". She drew her pistol once more, clutching it tight to her breast. "We're going to do what we came here to do, Sir Robert," she said, voice going cold.

He paled.

"We're going to kick some Farmers outta my bar."

* * *

Yep, that checks out.

Phoenix, folks. Phoenix.

Let's vote, comment, and see how else he ruins this...

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