Discovery Gaming Community

FIN

Mandated by the King of Gallia himself, SUPERDUPONT flies to the rescue of battleship Montmorency, despoiled by the minions of the evil DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION ! As he nears the striken ship, SUPERDUPONT smiles for himself : what better cause for joy than to serve the greatest, nicest nation in the universe and to protect the lives of the innocent from the malevolent Conseillards ?

"Enfer ! Bordel de merde !" bellows SUPERDUPONT, aptly, as he finally arrives at the Montmorency. "That scoundrel has not been at it with the back of the spoon !(1) It'll take my finest reserves to restore her to complete and radiant glory. Better warn Guillaume !"

DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION, being the gutter-minded megalomaniac tyrant that he is, has indeed done quite the number on the poor vessel. The dung used is certainly not from ordinary cows ! The thing is utterly acidic and visibly corrodes the hull, right in front of SUPERDUPONT's horrified eyes. Such a malevolent substance could NEVER have been secreted by honest, hard-working Gallic cows ! DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION must have sub-contracted it... Only a Libertonian cow-woman hybrid could be responsible for this level of toxicity ! Another lead for SUPERDUPONT to pursue later : a more pressing task still lays before him, as his mighty gaze catches that of several crew members gathered at one of the unobscured port-holes. Though they know their situation to be one of great peril, they retain their DIGNITY and HONNEUR, as would any sailor of the Marine Royale ! Still, they marvel at the sight of SUPERDUPONT, their hope restored, their spirits high enough to crush mountains with their fists ! SUPERDUPONT nods at them with a warm smile : naturally, he's got this.

Meanwhile, Guillaume the giant rooster has travelled to planet Quillan's SUPERDUPONTCAVE(2) as his lifelong friend and rider had instructed prior to his departure. He's now quietly awaiting new instructions as he contemplates pecking at some delicious-looking QUILLAN METAL-ROCKS ! Giant roosters fuel themselves on RAW MINERAL POWER and have the courtesy of leaving such trivialities as grain and vegetable to lesser creatures. Beak raised and ready for the plunge, Guillaume pauses for effect... And his breast-mounted communicator shoots up an image of SUPERDUPONT, still in space-flight, though carrying the Montmorency on his right shoulder. His face is somewhat strained by the effort as he tries his best to avoid drops of Libertonian cow-woman hybrid dung to stain his EPIC SPACEFLIGHT CAPE !!!
"Guillaume, mon ami ! We need to work fast and hard if we're to rescue the ship. Ready the reserve of Latâche-Montraché 712 ! At least three casks ! Only through the immeasurable cleansing power of PURE HIGH-QUALITY CHESTNUT WOOD-CASK AGED RED BOURGOGNE WINE can we hope to undo the despicable work of DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION !!!!!!!!"
"Bwaaaaak !" replies Guillaume, gravely.

Minutes later, a large VALEUR-sized bath-tub was filled with dark-red liquid. A rich earthly fragrance, typical of the best Burgundy reds, wafted through the entire planet, much to the joy of the BRAVE and DEDICATED miners of Quillan. SUPERDUPONT had not a second to waste ! He penetrated the atmosphere at full speed, shielding the Valeur with his massive torso before delicately resting it in the tub. As the wine soaked through the ship, the Libertonian cow-woman hybrid turd did not even put up a fight ! Likely aware of the Gallic fluid's indisputable superiority, it let itself be absorbed by the triumphant wine without leaving so much as a mark on the valiant vessel. Quite the opposite : the turd had stripped the hull of impurities and the wine only made it more radiant and glorious than it had ever been. Except for the day when the King himself commissioned her, of course.

SUPERDUPONT took a moment to himself, as the valiant crew made the necessary preparations for the Montmorency to return to its position. Despite the grave danger they had faced, they knew they needed to return to their post as soon as they could, because the evil minions of DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION were still at large. There would be time to see their familiies and friends once the threat was gone ! As the ship took off, the crew and SUPERDUPONT exchanged waves and smiles, their unbreakable bond one of loving camaraderie and shared hardships.

With the immediate danger averted and countless lives heroically saved, it was high time to prepare for the confrontation with the champion of Darkness. And such a special encounter demanded special preparations : SUPERDUPONT summoned fresh rye bread from the power of his own INTERNAL GALLICNESS, retrieved a saucisson from his generous saucisson pouch and set to the religious work of cutting one slice of each with his Opinel, assembling them before ever so gently eating the resulting toast. This went on until both saucisson and loaf were gone : SUPERDUPONT lamented the lack of wine, but Quillan's SUPERDUPONTCAVE was depleted and he wanted to keep as much of his INTERNAL GALLIC POWER RESERVES as he could in preparation for the coming fight. Vain and cowardly as he was, DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION had a knack for always, always surrounding himself with the most unsavory allies, from the most unsavory places, in the desolate wastes beyond Gallia. Luckily, their only strength was in numbers : individually, bizarre as they might be, their baffling incompetence, low education, poor hygiene and utter lack of taste made them easy targets to the very personnification of the Gallic ideal. Still... SUPERDUPONT had a bad feeling about it all. DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION had seldom been so bold in the past... This had all the aspects of a trap.

A trap which SUPERDUPONT was well intent on springing and walking away from... WITH DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION IN CUSTODY !!!!!!

Will our hero manage to locate the evil dark lord of the Republicans ? Will the raw power of HIS BARE GALLIC FISTS prove enough to defeat the Conseillard slave legions that were, no doubt, lying in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike unfairly like the snivelling rats they are ? Will DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION find a way to escape his fate and run away once again ? Stay tuned and find out in the next episode of SUPERDUPONT !!!!!

FIN

The scene opens on a cut of the Montmorency proudly returning to its former position, weapons bristling, looking more imposing than ever. Newspaper headlines rapidly succeed across the screen afterwards, to the effect of "A GLORIOUS VICTORY !" "SAVED WITHIN MERE MINUTES !" "SUPERDUPONT STRIKES AGAIN !" and "THE POWER OF WINE TRIUMPHS !". SUPERDUPONT is then shown flying across space, heading to a distant planet in a blue-tinged system, a furious expression stuck to his mighty face.

A familiar dark room appears. An air of worry and frustration permeates the premises as DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION walks in circles, his back hunched, his hands clenched behind his back. His minions eye him with great concern, none daring to speak up before he does.
Then, finally, the evil dark lord implodes, frantically waving his arms around as his entourage collectively shrink in shock.

"HOW ! HOW COULD HE POSSIBLY ACCOMPLISH THIS ?"
"My lord... It appears SUPERDUPONT has made use of a special sort of elite wine imbued with Gallic power..." answered a brave aide.
"Oui oui ! Copious amounts, nobody knows how he could have amassed so much of it and not drink it all into oblivion ! Surely by now, his reserves are depleted and we could strike again..." provided another, less courageous but still helpful minion.
"But we would need another military-grade payload of this exceptionally corrosive turd... Perhaps we could request more to the Libertonians ?" added another minion, oblivious of the danger he was putting himself into.
"But with what money ? We used up all the ULTIMATE DOOM WEAPONRY budget on this failure..." concluded another, presumably better at accounting than knowing when NOT to speak.

He crumbled to a thin pile of dust as DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION used his evil, hate-fueled EYE-LIGHTNING POWERS against the poor accountant. It was over in a flash.
"Now... If any of you has anything to add about... Budget..." He pronounced the word as literary critics would describe the latest volume of 50 shades of vampire butt pirates.
He circled around the unfortunate pile of dust. "Or if you're still keen on telling me, DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION, what I CANNOT do... Then now is as good a time as any".

"Then, my lord... What shall we do ? You need only speak and the legions will mobilise to avenge this treachery !" the first minion said, with the cautious glee of a student having just watched another get a dressing-down by the teacher.
"Yes... Yes... We must show the world that this changes nothing. The Regional Council of Tyranny and Oppression will strike back ! And this time, I must see to it... Personally."
This last declaration provoked a shiver of excitement in the dark room. Standing up to his full height, DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION said triumphantly to no one in particular : "Ready my battle robes... SUPERDUPONT must die !!! "

SUPERDUPONT travels across the stars, at full speed. Despite the coming battle, unsurmountable odds, desperate urgency and lack of information on what comes ahead, our hero is eager and content. The saucisson has brought him back to full power : RAW GALLIC ENERGY visibly radiates from him. So much so he looked like an incoming comet to the oppressed inhabitants of Marne. Marne, towards which SUPERDUPONT was directly headed. The time of liberation was at hand.

Though SUPERDUPONT knew himself to be a nigh unstoppable beacon of hope and distinction, he wasn't about to take on a whole planet all by himself. Not with so many lives to save. Two, on the other hand, would be more than enough. As he activated his communicator with the power of his SAUCISSON-ENHANCED MIND, he pondered over whom he should call to his aid. He didn't need long : nothing else than massive amounts of the purest, most refined and distilled pomp would do. He'd need to borrow none other than the Capitaine de vaisseau Everett Fontaine, Chambellan of the Marine Royale Gauloise.

As he crashed downwards at the speed of sound, SUPERDUPONT delighted in the moment. It seemed the very air was inviting him in instead of offering the usual burning resistance to anything trying to penetrate it. Caressed as he was by the elements, he elected to make a formal, distinguished landing rather than outright obliterating the ground as he was wont to do on hostile territories. Some hundreds of meters from the noble earth of Marne, he willed himself to a slowdown and executed a graceful somersault, landing on his feet with a soft "thump", standing perfectly upright, arms extended. He remained in that position for several seconds, intent on providing possible onlookers with the greatest display of grace and power they'd ever see.

Alas, there were none : SUPERDUPONT had landed in the exact middle of nowhere. Vast, flat plains with one megacity in the far distance. And it was the middle of the night. Caution was in order, however : the Regional Council of Tyranny and Oppression had brainwashed the entire planet on false dreams and real pollutants, owing to the massive, deregulated military-industrial complex that Marne had become. SUPERDUPONT understood why the air had seemed so inviting : now that he had landed, the plaintive winds carried the smells of despair and distress, calling out for help. Nature itself was suffering under the heartless, bloody-minded yoke of DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION. This needed to end.

As our hero mused, he realised Everett Fontaine would be late to their appointment, unless he arrived n- A MASSIVE BLINDING LIGHT APPEARED FROM THE SKY !
Like a ray of sunlight, a bright beam illuminated a circle next to SUPERDUPONT. Initially surprised, he watched the events unfold with a knowing smile. No longer was he alone. How foolish would he have been to doubt !
A tall, thin silhouette slowly descended along the beam. He was standing upright, chin up, his hands resting on his hips. As he touched down, the light dimmed to reveal the man himself. His eyes were aflame with determination, his cheeks and lips constricted in a pure display of iron-hard confidence. Just like SUPERDUPONT a moment earlier, he held his conquering stance for a moment as courtesy to onlookers... Until he allowed himself to notice his old friend.

"SUPERDUPONT !" He boomed, his voice as naturally elegant and commanding as ever. "Seeing you brings the greatest joy to my heart : truly, I have longed for the day where we would finally use our combined strength to bring the Roi's justice to the insolent peasant-in-chief DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION and his equally rural minions. Though I do not doubt we will extract significant glory and riches from today's heroics, know that I answered your call purely on account of my COMPLETE DEDICATION and SELFLESS COURAGE, as befits all servants of the Roi, noble and common alike. Please excuse my theatrical arrival : judging by the urgency of the situation, I decided I would waste no time issuing a DOCKING DEMAND to those Conseillard fools." They both laughed heartily, all concerns for stealth essentially void considering their rather flashy entrances.

"Thank you for joining me, Commandant !" SUPERDUPONT replied with the respect owed to an officer of the Marine Royale. Powerful though he was, REFINEMENT and PROPER MANNERS were the cornerstones of all he sought to defend from the horrors beyond Gallia. "I am well aware of the purity of your motivations, and that it is absolute resolve that animates you. Those are the reasons why I asked you to come, and also the same reasons why I knew you would. Our combined might will free this planet and their inhabitants from the tyrannical domineering of DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION !"

SUPERDUPONT's combat stance ! Buy now ! (Camembert box not included)

They dusted off their respective capes and started walking towards the megacity in the horizon as a single man, their UNITY OF PURPOSE evident by their elegant, synchronised stride. SUPERDUPONT explained his plan to a knowing Fontaine.

"DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION, as you know, is much like a magpie. Fat, cowardly and prompt to hide at the slightest hint of a threat... But ready to strike at a moment's notice if his greed is excited by some glitter. My plan is to draw out the magpie by using us two as glitter. We both represent all that he despises : hope, justice, sophistication, merit. Seeing the both of us alone, interacting with his down-trodden populace, I imagine he'll froth at the mouth and throw everything he has at us."
"Including himself, you presume ?" Fontaine replied, with his usual alacrity.
"Oui, Commandant. I am certain he is utterly offended by the rescue of the Montmorency : he will want to see me dead, unaware of his utterly powerlessness against my might ! For what can treachery and deceit do against SELFLESS COURAGE and NOBLE IDEALS?"
"Hmm hmm", Fontaine nodded in agreement. "I see now why you chose me. Oui, oui, I can see it unfold... I will challenge the good docteur's command over his slave legions and use my MASSIVE RADIANT POMP to free them from his grasp and return them to the ROI'S SUNLIGHT, as is my special power and sworn duty. And while the legions would be busy with me, you would fly over to him and bring him down using your BARE GALLIC FISTS, am I correct ? "
"Most correct, Commandant" SUPERDUPONT replied, grinning. The very thought agitated the bottled up INTERNAL GALLIC POWER within him, ready to be unleashed.

They walked. And sure enough, their arrival had been enough to attract the wanted attention. As they approached the megacity's first outlying districts, they saw it. A massive army on the horizon, stretched across a long line, long as the city itself, and hundreds of ranks deep. Immobile, their forks held up, torches alight... From such a large distance, this conscripted host had the allure of a giant, flaming mouth, ready to chew them up in an instant.

Fontaine and SUPERDUPONT chuckled. Soon, these souls would all be liberated and offered the chance to willingly return to the Roi's factories, ready to play their part in the success of his armies once again.

The air was still as the two armies faced each other down in complete silence. On one side, the Regional Council of Tyranny and Oppression's slave legions, armed with mean forks and torches, their look blank, their backs hunched, chains at their ankles. On the other side, Everett Fontaine and SUPERDUPONT, smiling confidently, basking in ROYAL RADIANT GLORY despite the darkness surrounding the soon-to-be battlefield. Our heroes felt pity at the sorrowful hordes massed ahead of them. What choice did they have in this ? How could they have escaped the horrible fate of being enslaved and broken by DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION ? That so many innocent, pure souls could have been corrupted to serve evil's every petty whim... The confident smiles gave way to resolute faces. Here were his Majesty's subjects begging to be released from their mind-prison and returned to willing and benevolent serfdom.

It was as if Fontaine had read into SUPERDUPONT's mind, so strong was their bond. "That's what we've come here to do, SUPERDUPONT. You have come here to bring justice to DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION, I see it in your soul : but do not forget that we have primarily come as liberators and saviours."
"You're right, of course, commandant !" SUPERDUPONT exclaimed. "I must not be carried away by the thought of merely stopping evil. I, as any subject of Gallia, must do RIGHT BY MY KING. Do not fear ! I have brought a special tool to pacify our enemy's unwilling servants..." Grinning, SUPERDUPONT flicked his cape to reveal...

Palets bretons are an ancestral biscuit/ranged weapon hybrid created by HONEST and CARING grandmothers from Old Earth's Britanny. And though Britanny has not yet been reintroduced in the Sirius sector, the secret of the Palet breton has been kept alive and passed on to a select few Breton loremasters, generation after generation. It is one of the priviledges of Gallic superheroes to be entrusted with this secret : SUPERDUPONT himself learned it from his old master... SUPERDURAND (SHOCKING REVEAL !!!).
A typical palet breton is made of massive quantities of three ingredients : SUGAR, BUTTER, FLOUR, these being the holy trinity of Britanny's culinary arsenal, as is well known to Gallic military historians. The proportions can be modified to affect its density, weight and thickness, with resulting effects on its range, stopping power and armour-piercing capabilities. A typical palet breton modèle 1 (PB mle 1) has a diameter of about 6 centimeters, weighs between 100 and 300 grams and can be hurled at the speed of 180km/h with uncanny accuracy by a trained Breton warrior. Slings can sometimes be used.

SUPERDUPONT had brought a full complement of palets bretons modèle 4 (PB mle 4) : the heavy-weight bouncing variant, perfect for non-lethal crowd control but needing both copious STRENGTH and DEXTERITY to wield effectively. Fortunately, SUPERDUPONT lacked NEITHER. A knowing smile coursed through Everett Fontaine's traditionally sober lips.
"Using secret ancestral Breton wisdom to win the people back to the Roi's cause ? How deliciously fitting !" Fontaine said, hinting at the palet breton's other deadly attribute : a taste to die for, essentially comparable to solid, crispy butter. The taste of generosity and warm fireplaces while strong rain pummels stone walls. In a word : Britanny. Both men shared a laugh.

Unbeknowst to them, their laughter, reverberating through the entire valley, had UNFORESEEN REPERCUSSIONS. Hearing, for the first time in years, the sound of joy and happiness, many among the slave legions straightened, eyes wide open, a look of utter confusion and surprise on them.

"Is that... Laughter ?!" One of them said.
"SILENCE !" replied a slave master, recognisable by his ugly orange suit, typical of the Regional Council's minions. He whipped the poor slave into a mute obedience... But the damage had been done, and the mind-control was starting to waver amidst the ranks.

Observing the situation from his doom tower, DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION could feel his complete control start to wane. "All because of that big, dramatic fool"... He muttered, unaware of the irony of his statement, being a big dramatic fool himself, only with a black heart and misguided political senses. He could feel that if he didn't act now, he'd lose control... And he shuddered to think of what might happen to him if that occured. Perhaps he'd need to... work at least one day in his life ? WITH HIS OWN HANDS ?!
He shrieked, which broke every window of his doom tower, and scuttled away, directly headed for the battlefield on all fours. He moved like a blur, a nightmarish Republican man-spider wearing black latex and a balaclava. The ROI HIMSELF could feel a tremor in the GALLIC ENERGY FIELD that bound his Kingdom and permeated all living things in it : dark deeds were unfolding, fear had taken hold of his nemesis. As he willed the construction of ten more VALEUR-class battleships WITH THE POWER OF HIS ROYAL MIND, he hoped that SUPERDUPONT would be up to the task...

SUPERDUPONT and Fontaine had noticed it : the ground beneath their very feet was starting to tremble. The legions had started their slow, rumbling advance, pressed by their masters. The gaping maw marched forward, mindlessly though no less frightening. The sound was akin to rolling thunder as the maw became increasingly big...
Meanwhile, our heroes were enjoying a pre-battle pic-nic : they'd only noticed the rumbling because it had almost spilled Fontaine's glass. The commandant had thoughtfully brought a nice rosé from Provence : the ideal pic-nic companion ! SUPERDUPONT had only some camembert and saucisson leftovers from his EMPOWERING RITUALS... Which Fontaine readily accepted in a true display of Gallic COURTESY and ELEGANCE in every possible occasion. Pre-battle picnics were not usually part of court manners manuals, which was telling of the man's adaptation skills and natural social finesse.

Realising that the show had started, our heroes stood up and cleaned up the pic-nic area : imminent battle was no excuse to fail in their DUTIES as EDUCATED CITIZENS, which included leaving no litter in nature.
Having achieved this, they faced the oncoming host and started discussing their plan again, while having a drink of Ricard, a refreshing anise-tasting apéritif whose recipe had been rediscovered and mass-produced by Corsican entrepreneurs.

Then, they entered their respective battle stances.
Everett Fontaine stood upright, much like he had done when arriving on the planet's surface. His feet were planted in the ground, as if the very planet was already his, and he himself was the planet. He placed his hands firmly on his hips : the "disapproving teacher" stance. He held his chin up, ready to begin staring down at the legions.
Superdupont lowered himself, his knees bent, his back straight, left arm extended, right arm retracted. Like a mighty rooster ready to uncoil and strike at the speed of light. His face no longer bore the pleasant, confident allure he had moments earlier. He was the expression of living BRAVERY and JUSTICE, his mind calm with purpose.

The frontline slaves were overwhelmed by this sight. The quiet hill that hosted two lonesome figures had suddenly turned into a BLAZING INFERNO ! Immeasurable GLORIOUS RICARD-INFUSED POWER emanated from that hill... And was headed straight for them. Waves of blue and gold energy swept across the ranks, filling the numb hearts and broken minds with CORE GALLIC VALUES.
"HONNEUR !" one of them cried, breaking his chains.
"REFINEMENT !" went another.
"PURPOSE !" "HONESTY !" "RESPECT !" "PROVIDENCE !" "MERIT !" The legions were starting to break apart, many among them down on their knees, overpowered by the return of goodness and freedom in themselves.
Then, a unified cry from an innumerable amount of the unwilling troops : "PATRIE !"

SUPERDUPONT and Fontaine held their stances. The commandant, in full staring-down mode, was channeling the gold energy of duty : honour, obedience, putting your life to good use, working towards a greater cause, knowing your place in society, showing merit.
The beret-wearing hero was channeling the blue energy of fraternity : respecting and elevating others, solidarity, being given what you deserve, the value of a good meal, the pleasure of good company, the importance of fine clothing and good manners.

The resulting, combined beam cured the slaves of DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION's evil indoctrination : the perpetual promise of easier times in return for ever more efforts ; the assurance that "THEY" are responsible of everything wrong and you can just blame everything on "THEM" ; the languid temptation that one can live on other people's work ; or the laughable notion that honest working citizens should have the time or energy to worry about who should be at the top, making important decisions that they'd never understand anything about.
The results were drastic. More than half of the troops had been put out of combat and were either running from the battlefield or petrified, contemplating their decisions and wondering how they'd gotten there.

The remainder were the hardliners, who had taken to charging full on at our heroes. Either these men and women had suffered too much at the whips of their masters, or the indoctrination had gotten too far to be extracted out by soft means. They'd need a more focused beam...

Fontaine and SUPERDUPONT nodded at one another. The time had come !
Fontaine exited his disapproving teacher stance and entered a more aggressive formation, as he verbally engaged the hardliners. He spoke on, dramatically and with the intensity of a supernova. It was likely the entire planet, if not the system, was now listening to him.

"Have you then lost your way so much that, in pursuit of some misguided ideal, you would forsake all that has made you great and so vastly superior to Sirians ? What stands in your heart now, where before there was a loving royal warmth, that animated you with the strength of the Sun itself ?! How could you have turned your back on something so fundamental as merit, when merit is the only way to reap just rewards ? Mischief, unruliness and petty sabotage are the way of rats and mad fools, not of the proud sons and daughters of the Sun King and his eternal Kingdom ! Come to me, my friends, reclaim your rightful place at His side, and together, we will all rule over a unified, peaceful, sophisticated galaxy !"

Meanwhile, SUPERDUPONT had flown directly at DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION : he could not be permitted to undo all that they'd achieved here. This ended here and now !!!

"YOU !" the docteur said, ice in his voice, as SUPERDUPONT landed on one knee just in front of him. "Good of you to save me the trip to Néo-Paris ! Once you're defeated, I'll use your SUPER REMAINS as augmentor to my libertonian cow-woman hybrid dung... THAT'S RIGHT ! A NEW FORMULA, SO POWERFUL THAT IT WILL MELT THE PLANET ITSELF ! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH !"
SUPERDUPONT gaped in absolute HORREUR !
"You mad fool ! So many innocents will perish in the vilest torments !!! Surely not even you can be so evil as to subject our VALOROUS and HARD-WORKING citizens to such a fate in vain !"
DESTRUCTION laughed. It was a mean laugh, laden with dark deeds. "Do you think me so stupid as to massacre entire populations for my petty pleasure ?! I'd have done so here on Marne if it had been my only goal... No, no, SUPERDUPONT... I plan to exterminate the Néo-parisiens, fanatically loyal to your ugly King, as a PROOF TO MY LOYALTY TO THE SIRIANS ! OUI ! Only with the entire planet gone will they finally welcome ME among them, as a peer... perhaps even as their new master !"

SUPERDUPONT thought about that... "You would use the blood of your countrymates to dominate the entire galaxy, then ? So you admit that your entire ideology, your political fight, your promises to the people... All of it, a lie to further your cruel ambitions ? A means to become the undisputed tyrannical ruler of all of Sirius ?!"
"Finally, he understands... Of course ! Do you really think this "Republic" I conceived was a serious entreprise ? We subsist on selling cyanide to the Sirians, for crying out loud ! Our economy revolves around POISON ! I'll have a full stock of nerve gas everywhere once I reach the Sirian throne, no one will dare to speak up against He Who Controls The Gas... My association is, in fact, named the GALACTIC COUNCIL OF FORCEFUL UNIFICATION (SHOCKING REVEAL) !!! And only now do you even realise it... You big, dumb fool and your silly King-AAAAH !"

SUPERDUPONT had had too much : insulting the King was the last straw. He threw a MIGHTY PUNCH straight into DESTRUCTION's jaw, so strong it caused him to make a complete rotation on himself. SUPERDUPONT punched him again, with his left BARE FIST, and the rotation occured again, in the opposite direction this time. The evil docteur somehow used the momentum to perform a KUSARI KICK to a surprised SUPERDUPONT's face !!! How could he have learned of this move ?!!!
Our hero had underestimated his nemesis : a foolish mistake probably caused by his earlier display of INTERNAL GALLIC POWER... Still, he had reserves... And the PB mle 4s, he realised as CLONES OF DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION swarmed him !!!

Such a shameful display. Cloning was rumoured to be practiced by some Sirian factions living on the edge. On the edge of what had never been found out. Gallic citizens ultimately agreed on it being an unsophisticated, brutish and particularly uninspired way to gain power. They knew that SELF ELEVATION comes with HARD DILIGENT WORK and MERIT only : this is why the average Gallic peasant, imbued with the radiant SUN POWER of his King, is the equal of ten Sirian barbarians. Who needs clones then ?! That the evil docteur would use such a vile technique came at no surprise...

SUPERDUPONT crouched slowly. "I see you've brought friends, DESTRUCTION... It just so happens that... SO... DID... I !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he said as he fumbled with his cape... AND LOOSED DOZENS OF PALETS BRETONS AT HIS FOES ! The biscuits flew at the speed of sound, unleashing CRUSHING BUTTERY POWER and hitting several targets on their way. They struck hands, tibias, jaws, shoulders, butts, torsos, zipping gracefully from one target to another until they were reduced to mere, delicious, buttery crumbs. Using the confusion, SUPERDUPONT had crashed into DESTRUCTION and made full use of his Savate skills on his nemesis' face.
Several minutes passed... Then all became still again. Fontaine was back to his disapproving teacher stance, although sporting a proud smile. Hundreds were knelt beside him, listening with joy and trepidation as he spoke at great volume of what was waiting for them, now that they had been liberated. He described the new factories, the new machines, the new tools, better health & safety regulations, even rumours of a new carrier the best of them would be working on soon... Excitement and eagerness to serve coursed through them as they were all impatient to cleanse their souls of the Regional council's corruption through hard and honest labour.

DESTRUCTION's minions lay on the floor, vanquished. The docteur himself was held tight by SUPERDUPONT's FIRM GRIP as he used his free hand to remove the doctor's latex balaclava.
"Now ! Let us finally see who is hiding behind this m... OH MON DIEU ! MON GENERAL !!!" SUPERDUPONT released DESTRUCTION out of sheer shock. The docteur crumbled on the ground and gazed upon SUPERDUPONT.
"Oui... Now you see the truth... I am... Was... the général Pierre Laflamme, in service to Charles' armies..."
"We all thought you dead ! And those 18 children you conceived with your wife, convinced that their poor father died a hero fighting the Brigand tribesmen ? How, HOW could you do this to them ? TO ALL OF US ?!!"

Traumatised by this shocking revelation, SUPERDUPONT sat where he stood, bringing his POWERFUL HANDS to his SORROWFUL VISAGE. Treachery was, to him, an alien concept ; a Sirian invention to keep their children in line. There were not, there could NOT be turn coats in Gallia. Men were born loyal and strong, or weak-minded and foolish : the former served the King willingly, the latter simply needed to be brought up in the King's solar glory. Not all had that chance, sadly. But to have one such as the many-times-father Pierre Laflamme (who had come to be known in private circles as Général Zizi), a distinguished warhero, turn his back on his people, his Kingdom, his place... To pursue vain dreams of galactic supremacy ? The notion was impossible to fathom, and amidst the flames of victory, the rain of chagrin and disappointment poured in his heart.
Everett Fontaine walked up to him, having turned the liberated people of Marne to the nearest industrial workforce processing centre. Ever the gentle soul, he laid a comforting hand on SUPERDUPONT's shoulder. "Indeed, the OBSCURE PART of the GALLIC ENERGY FIELD has reached unprecedented levels. If one so valorous and fertile as Laflamme could have fallen prey to the OBSCURE PART's calling, many more are at risk. We must redouble our efforts."

SUPERDUPONT recovered and stood up, himself laying a hand on Fontaine's shoulder.
"Oui, commandant. We cannot rest while such a menace looms over our Kingdom. This murderous snake has used a strange fighting technique against me... What I believe to be a KUSARI KICK !!! Between this and what I suspect to be Libertonian-manufactured corrosive dung, it seems the OBSCURE PART has had the help of foreign agents. I must depart, commandant, investigate these leads... And bring those responsible to JUSTICE before they can cause further harm !"
Everett Fontaine looked on with pride and resolve. "If one can see this to the end, it is YOU, SUPERDUPONT ! But your INTERNAL GALLIC POWER runs low, surely now is too early..."
"Nonsense !" SUPERDUPONT exclaimed with joy. "I can make a pit stop to Grande-Bretonia and fulfill my reserves there. It will be a good way to verify the reputation of their food ! But first, I do need to replenish my FIGHTING SPIRIT... And I've had some thoughts about that."
He walked up to the defeated DOCTEUR DESTRUCTION. "Mon général, get up. Awaken your clones. You're now in my custody, and it is my legal responsibility to see you delivered safely to the authorities. I'm told the Police is on their way... But meanwhile, you will help me regain my powers...