"The Falcon Cannot Hear"

Up there on that balcony, Zipper and friends made a plan of action. Kaede, having come to her senses, came up with a set of tasks for each person (and animal) there, aided by information supplied by Rango.

With the plan ready, they descended down the stairs, heading for the grand hall of the cathedral. Inspired by Zipper, Kaede, and the Martians, many Do-Nothings stayed to fight, and reclaimed total control over the cathedral. Do-Nothings, many bandaged, wounded, or drunk, readied themselves, standing by for orders.

At the back of the cathedral, Do-Nothings opened the big wooden doors, revealing the back courtyard - a long stretch of park leading to the front gate of the Presidio. The Polymermen, now in control of the Presidio, hastily mounted defenses - digging trenches, setting up pie-gun mounts, trying to fix the gate they knocked down on the way in. Amid the roar of incoming Martian drones, pie-guns, and flutes, Kaede glanced back at the group.

 The weary Do-Nothings inside the grand hall, numbering in the hundreds, stood and gathered before their leader.

“Well, I’m off,” Kaede said, paintball-gun in hand, Kyoko at her side. She tipped her beret at Zipper, her face slightly red from embarrassment. 

“I just want to say...thanks, yanno. Let’s go back to Starlight Cafe when this is over.”

Zipper heard the whine of pie-machine-guns from the watchtowers of the Presidio spinning up. She took Kaede’s hand. “I’ll see you there.”

Kaede grinned at Azuki, bade farewell to the rest, fist-bumped Kyoko, then turned to face the open field, rows of watchtowers behind the walls, Polymermen draped in eagle flags ahead of her.

“Ah, hell!” Kaede raised her gun and fired, and with a thrashing, gnashing roar the assembled Do-Nothings took off, into the mire and filth, into the oncoming wave of stale pies, many falling, many more continuing on, screams and cries and whistles and throughout it all amid hoarse chants of “Not One Step Back!”

The rest of the group then headed up to the VTOL landing pad, up on a flat section of the tiled roofs. A Polymermen gang was up there, checking it out, but a well-timed ambush by Nat, Charles, and Altamont knocked them all out quick. Walrus, Slow, and Rango examined the VTOL, which had been wrecked by that gang.

“No chance of flying this,” Walrus supposed. He followed Rango inside the wreckage, weaving their way towards the cargo hold. From outside, a moment later, Zipper heard high-fives. Rango flipped a lever; the cargo hold opened, revealing three emergency aerial drones and a spare set of instruments and equipment.

The group quickly assembled the latter two, turning them up as loud as they could go. Walrus swiped his bass; the blast echoed around the Kingdom, all the way into the Presidio. Both Polymermen and Do-Nothing alike glanced up at the band, in full view of the battle.

“You sure we shouldn’t go and help rescue Joe?” Slow asked, tapping on his keyboard.

“Morale support and psychological warfare is important,” Zipper answered.

Walrus swallowed. “We ain’t never played a song this important before though.”

Zipper gave him a soft smile. "Play a whisper from the heart."

The remaining bandmates looked at each other and nodded. Walrus tapped on his microphone. 

“Hey, Do-Nothings!” he called out. “We’re still here, dig! And we ain't going nowhere, not until we achieve total victory!"

Walrus and Slow glanced back at their drummer. He tensed, ready for them to yell at him like usual. 

“Play loud, Rango!”

Rango blinked, then grinned. Bringing all of his Neanderthal strength to bear, he played with all his might, the sound carrying not just across the battlefield, but the city as a whole. Walrus and Slow joined in, something fast and aggressive, carrying an electric, industrial sort of intensity, as the Polymermen and Do-Nothings battled below, the balance of the conflict hanging on a knife’s edge. The flutes and drums responded in kind from inside the Presidio in a grand battle of the bands. 

As for the three drones -

“Uh, right…” Sue said. Each drone - resembling a black rectangle with wings - had room for a pilot and passenger. The three Great War otaku each took their respective pilot’s seats; Charles gave Sue a thumbs up, then took off, with Nat and Altamont following with their passengers.

“If you’re gonna fight,” Sue told Charles, “Then fight like you’re the third monkey on the ramp to Noah’s Ark. And brother, it’s starting to rain.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

Using their Passchendaele experience, the three former downed airmen found the drones easy enough to fly, and they soared through the air. The Polymermen on the ground lacked any AA pie-guns; unfortunately, right at that moment, the Earth and Martian fleets clashed over the Presidio. Millions of drones from both sides fired and collided, streaks of pie and paint catching anything unfortunate enough to cross their paths.

“Look!” Zipper exclaimed, holding onto Nat. Down below, at the Presidio landing pad, an official-looking VTOL landed, and out climbed Lawrence, flanked by Nixon.

“Double look!” Sue exclaimed, accidentally punching Charles in the face. More drones pulled up to the landing pad, and there appeared Grace and her two followers.

The plan was to have the frontal assault distract the Polymermen and pull their forces away while Zipper and company broke in through the top of the Presidio. The drones dipped downwards, but Lawrence’s incoming sailors set up AA pie-batteries on the landing pad, shooting fruitcakes into the sky. Nat shook her head and pulled away, the fruitcake-flak too heavy to make a landing there.

“If you’re gonna fight,” Sue told Charles, “Then fight like you’re the sixth monkey jumping on the bed. And brother, it’s starting to creak.”

Charles glanced at Altamont and sighed.

“There!” Zipper pointed at an unguarded balcony on the other side of the Presidio. “Land us there!”

The three pilots dove, but enemy drones were on them now. Hostile pies from their pursuers flew every which way, forcing evasive maneuvers. The battle, flak, and rain dimmed visibility; Nat shook her head, then shot a drone out of the sky with a paintball-gun. She motioned for Charles and Altamont to follow her.

They dipped down even lower now, close over the battlefield. Every inch of grass had been turned into a thick mud by now, both sides hastily digging trenches to better protect themselves from their opponent. With shrill cries, Do-Nothings charged across open fields towards the Polymermen, hundreds falling, but many more made it through, seizing trenches, climbing over walls, making their way onto the Presidio grounds. Crimson stains, unceasing gunfire, unending screams, infinite mud, perpetual cannon fire, bodies strewn everywhere like broken, discarded dolls, their comrades clamoring over them, only to join them, wafting stench, thick with blood…

“Say,” Zipper ‘sposed. “World War I must’ve actually sucked, don’t you think?”

Nat took a long look at the carnage and slowly nodded.

The pilots brought them over the balcony. Zipper, Sue, and Azuki jumped down. Enemy drones were hot on their heels, so Nat, Charles, and Altamont saluted, then swerved around, heading back to meet the enemy head-on. They flew with one hand on the controls, the other gripping paintball-guns, and soon they were lost in the general chaos and fury, just one of the thousands of individual fights cascading across the battlefield.

Zipper prayed for their safety, then kicked open the balcony door. They were inside the Presidio now.