A/N

So, the teaser trailer for Diabotical is basically a homage/rip-off (depending where you draw the line) to the reveal trailer to StarCraftII. Anyway, decided to have some fun with it.

The Waiting Game

There was some weird ass fekk going on in New Folsom these days.

Such were Warden Newell's thoughts as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. A few weeks ago, Arcturus fekking Mengsk had turned up. No pomp, no ceremony, nothing but an order to release Inmate 435, known less formally as Tychus Findlay. Mengsk had given the convict a pretty speech, a not so pretty suit of armour, and even a cigar to top it off. All part of some kind of black ops operation to snag James fekking Raynor – terrorist, freedom fighter, and space cowboy. And with that, Tychus Findlay had disappeared into the stars, and Mengsk with him, albeit on a different trajectory.

So now, Warden Newell, head of New Folsom Prison and the most despised man on the planet, was faced with two facts. One, he swore too much – swearing was bad, and his mother would kick his ar…sorry, caboose all the way to Antiga Prime if she heard him say these things (or think them – he could swear she was a telepath at times). The second was that history was repeating itself in a weird, off the books, "Ruling Fathers what the heck is this?" kind of way. Watched as the gears turned, assembly commenced, and the universe proved it had a sense of humour. Maybe. As a yellow smiley face descended from the series, reminding him of an Old Earth game series called Pac-Boy, he wasn't sure what was what in the universe anymore. Only that it hated him.

"Fekk me."

And he was going to swear if he wanted to, thank you very much.

Weapons production. New Folsom was a mother lode of resources, and everyone had to pull their weight for the Dominion war effort. But this weapon, he wondered? All he had to do was supervise the production, but how was this thing meant to be a tool in the Dominion's arsenal? It was a yellow sphere with stubby arms, descending from the ceiling, with stubby legs rising from below in order to greet it. He found himself reminded of Findlay, as a servo system had encased him in his suit of armour. But there was no man here – only a smiley face that he suspected that, before it left this planet, would have a speech bubble containing words like "die" and "zerg." Maybe even a "scum" thrown in for good measure.

The thing began to move. Newell made a mental note to ask the engineers exactly what kind of robot it was, so he wouldn't have to call it a 'thing.' Then he made a second mental note to ignore the first mental note, that it would be a waste of time, and he already had enough mental notes taking up space in his brain. So, it was 'the thing.' A thing that looked at its hands as it moved its arms, its smiling, stygian face never shifting, its eyes never blinking. All was right in the universe, especially-

What the fekk?

The lights went out and it had drawn a gun. A big, red, oversized, over-compensating gun. It was one ball in the dark, with no member of the opposite sex. Also its eyes and mouth were glowing blue.

"Hell," the thing said, its mouth still unmoving. "It's about time."

And thus, Warden Newell, head of New Folsom Prison, was left to ask two things. One, who let out that "whoo?" Two, where did the oversized ping-pong ball get that pair of sunglasses? Three, who was playing that rock music? Four, had things become so insane that he thought he was asking two things when he was really asking three, and if so, did asking this fourth question even count?

"Old school arena FPS is back baby!" the thing exclaimed.

Newell nodded and made a third mental note – fire the engineers and re-assign the prison's psychiatrist.

Because someone, or something was insane in this room, and there was a strong chance it might be him.