The carnage was legendary. The Porks' archers attacked first, and launched ten thousand pork rinds at the D.C.D.A. army. Grimironie's men could barely move without crunching.
"Don't eat them!" Three screamed above the din,"They're full of trans-fat!"
The Pork foot-soldiers ran forward and met them mid-field. Basters shot in rapid fire; the air was rife with savory herbs. Porks battered D.C.D.A.'s with slabs of bacon. The ground was slick with congealed fat.
Grimironie fought through the onslaught, determined to reach Bauer, who hid behind his minions. She had to forego her baster, best only for long-range combat, and wield her meat tenderizer. She struck Pork after Pork, leaving a trail of pounded filets in her wake. Her Pork-lust was blinding. She saw only manly chest hair taunting her from the horizon, and every Pork in her way way a chop ready for harvest.
The Porks were too dense and Mongoose could go no farther. She leapt over the handlebars and somersaulted before landing amidst the enemy. She batted them quickly. They broke with dull thuds and dropped to her sides. She fought on despite the sharp pain in her arms. Left, right, duck! Duck! Duck! Goose! She blocked with her spatula and hit with her tenderizer until a clearing formed around her. The Porks began to retreat.
She spun and scanned her perimeter. Porks rushed back, away from her reach. She charged forward, but they were too fast. Grimironie, runner of the twelve-minute mile, could not keep up. Mongoose was far behind. Bauer was gone. Cowards.
She turned back on aching limbs. Her men had not fared as well. Many were on the ground, pulling bacon bits from their eyes. She counted those from her precinct: Ben Bradley had torn his best spandex, Maestro ran down-field sporting a newly fashioned Pork ear necklace and yelling "Who's your daddy! Who's your daddy!" Robie Ae stood firm, Kate rolled in with scores of Pork scalps dragging behind her ATV. Ewww. She didn't see Three. She didn't see Three!
"Grim!" Crispy yelled. She bolted in his direction instantly. Crispy looked okay. Her heart slowed. She breathed in. Then she saw the hand he held, and the tuft of blonde hair he exposed as he pulled away short ribs and a large pork tenderloin. She knelt beside him. He still had a pulse. Three was unconscious.
She scooped him up and carried him to high ground. She could not speak or think. She didn't even want tea. The choppers landed, and the E.M.T.'s took over.