Never mind which level of Hell they’re on…
Everyone watched the video screen, intently listening to John Cavil’s express instructions to be carried out in his absence (not that he was leaving Hell any time soon). The Number One Cylon concluded:.
“I am sorry I cannot be there to guide you all. I shall be, as you are fond of saying, laid up…for a couple of weeks. After all, as our Infernal Leader said not too long ago, ‘Even I need a break.’ And so, I’m going to take the best recuperation possible, given our circumstances.
“And with that, I bid you adieu. Be seeing you….” Cavil finished with a gesture forming a monocle over his right eye with his index and forefinger, and the rest of his fingers extended diagonally above his forehead. With that, the screen faded.
“That’ll sure piss Mr. Johnson off,” muttered Saddam. “That is, if anyone ever told him about it.” He snickered and tapped a monitor set into the table to check on the Centurion’s progress. Sure enough, the bicycling blogger was being disemboweled on schedule.
Adolf Hitler piped up. “Now that he left us in charge, I want to propose a final solution to the question of resurrection!”
“A lot of good that schtick did you back on Earth, Schicklgruber!” countered D’anna, a Three who posed as a Colonial Officer in her former existence.
“There are also the rebels!” added Tom Zarek.
“Then what do you propose?” D’anna asked.
Hitler replied, “By disabling the resurrection subroutine for everyone else but us, we would have the proper hierarchy here. Remember who created whom!” He slammed his fist onto the desk. Der Führer had actually learned something about the nature of the Cylons.
“Don’t you understand? We’re being merciful to all damned souls. It’s the least we can do since we can’t escape here.”
“And we need to put the rebels in their place!” Hitler raised his voice.
Aaron Doral popped up. “Why not ask the Hybrid for its opinion?”
The entire table shouted in unison, “NO!”
Congressman Murtha added, “What, you wish to become one with another city?” Laughter ensued.
But before anyone could do anything about it, Doral rushed over to the tank where the Hybrid rested peacefully and plugged it into the net. It awoke and spoke: ”Democrats will fight to make sure that Republicans do not turn a guaranteed benefit into a guaranteed gamble….FTL drives spinning up…If I were to cry for anything, I would cry for them and the policies that they’re about to face…JUMP!”
Everyone held their breath as one moment, the meeting room overlooked the ancient fortress…
…and the next, it was one with a palatial bedroom with Cavil engaging in some activity with a Tough Six; they both were furious for the interruption.
“Um…sorry Boss,” meeked Doral, “My bad.” The group moved to beat a hasty exit. Which was, of course, put to a screeching halt as a phalanx of Centurions surrounded them. They extended their left forearms which revealed hidden blades, and all turned to Cavil. He was not happy at all.
“Ah, I see when the cat’s away the mice will play. Would you do the honors, Six?”
She nodded amd smiled. “Off with their heads….”