Timothy could hear the noise of the people outside before he was even pushed out of the ship in his decrepit wheelchair. Then large roars of Timothy, Timothy were belt out by the ecstatic crowd. Some tried to push forward to touch him but were held back by tall, strong guardsmen who were dressed in the imperial red uniforms.
The sky was hazy and the foul smell of the atmosphere was immediately apparent. It was uncomfortably warm.
Then Timothy saw it for the first time, his new battle-chair. His eyes were transfixed by what he saw. It looked perfect with a red frame and armed with four machine guns. Two on each side of where would sit and two over where his head would rest. His men instinctively lifted him up and placed him and his old backrest into it. Everything had been done to his exact specifications.
Timothy was feeling something unknown to him for a very long time – happiness. It was his dream chair. Now he was ready for war. The crowd went into a hushed silence as he maneuvered the chair and its weaponry back and forth.
Then there was commotion within the crowd with some screaming. There was a surge of the crowd left and right leaving a man in rags on his knees. His eyesee were bulging and his skin was turning rougher and scalier.
“Get away from him,” Timothy implored. He had seen this before.
Then he opened fire destroying the would be monster.
“Bravo, bravo,” bellowed the bald Emperor’s Representative who appeared from the masses.
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