The Truth about the Bushfires.

[Sly]

Note: Again, this is a true story, just like my encounter with Tony Lockett. However, if you contact the Australian Government they’ll be compelled to disavow any knowledge of my involvement in the following, and my existence itself.


DAY ONE:
I was sitting in my office, working obliviously, when I got the call.

"I’ve just gotten the call I never wanted to receive," the voice at the other end of the phone told me. It was Pygram, one of the Agents I worked with occasionally. I knew what he meant instantly. "There’ll be a briefing tomorrow at 6:00 a.m."

The line went dead.


DAY TWO:
I stood amongst a crowd of Agents and other Sleepers in the Main Conference Room. Koskoff, who was something of a prodigal genius, was holding the debriefing. He stood at the front of the room by an easel which held a map of Sydney forest-territory. There were points of red marked upon the map – nine of them.

"These are the areas of infestation," Koskoff was telling everybody, pointing out the red points. "We’re not sure about the numbers yet, but we estimate fifty-to-sixty people to each cell. Our objective is to not only remove them, but eradicate them, regardless of the cost to property and human life. We must stop this threat before it becomes a reality."

"You know whose fault this is, don’t you?" Pygram, who was standing next to me, whispered in my ear. "It’s Kevin Sheedy’s fault."

"Really?" I asked him.

"He’s the one who lured Paul Salmon back," Pygram said. "Koskoff could do the world a favor if he ordered the Agency to remove him."

Remove Sheedy? Sounded good to me.


DAY THREE:
Pygram and I led an assault on one of the cells in the forest. The place was basically a crude compound, home to about fifty cultists – as a sidenote, most of them looked as if they were inbred.

Pygram, myself, and five Agents went in with guns blazing, shooting down each and everybody without a second thought. Since this was an Eradication, there couldn’t be any witnesses later to testify to what we’d done. The only person we kept alive (for now), was the High Priest.

In the center of the Compound, we found a large room, like a shrine. On an altar at the front of the room was a ticket to The Lord of the Rings. It had been staked across the pedestal and torn in the middle. By its side lay a box of matches. These misguided cultists were going to sacrifice a damn cinema-ticket.

Pygram found a latch which swung away a fake wall in front of the altar and we and the other agents drew back in horror when we witnessed the object of our mission.

It was a ten foot poster of Troy Luff.


DAY FOUR:
Pygram and I proceeded to interrogate the High Priest, a man who was going under the non de plume of Eelstein, but who we knew as "Edelstein." He wore floral robes, a circlet of flowers, and his fingers were adorned by gaudy rings. They looked like they came out of a vending machine.

We tied him to a chair in the kitchen and then begun to slap the piss out of him. We weren’t asking him questions – that wasn’t part of what the Agency called The Process. The first objective was to break him down, to strip him of any courage and defiance he might’ve had.

"That’s for pink helicopters!" Pygram said, viciously slapping the High Priest across one side of the face.

"That’s for Warwick Capper’s shorts!" I said, slapping the other side of his face with just as much belligerence.

"That’s for Leanne’s spot on Neighbors!" ~SLAP!~

"That’s for raping the League in the 80’s!" ~SLAP!~

We pulled back to take a break. We’d been slapping him for almost half an hour, and my hand was getting sore. Not only that, but we were running out of reasons to slap him. There was another well we could’ve tapped into for ammunition – something to do with Medical Fraud, but I’ve found that Government Agencies don’t waste time with stuff like that. Be careful if you’re trying to sell fake Don Bradman-memorabilia, though – they’ve got Black Ops Assassins taking care of that.

"Now tell us everything!" Pygram roared right in Edelstein’s face.

Edelstein was more than happy to oblige – like the Sydney Team of the 80’s, he could dish it out in a surreptitious sort of way, but when it came to taking it, when it came to standing up for himself, he folded like a house of cards.

"We wanted him back," Edelstein bawled. "You don’t know the despair which has taken over New South Wales. Who wanted Plugger? We didn’t want Plugger? We never wanted Plugger in the first place! As far as we’re concerned, Plugger took the spot of the True Man, of the True Prophet, of the True Entity – a man who would’ve eclipsed the goal-kicking record had he been allowed to play undisturbed at full-forward!"

"Troy Luff?" I asked.

Edelstein nodded.

It turned out that these cultists viewed Troy Luff as something of a mythical, if not outright occult figure. They presupposed that if they performed these obscene rites out in the forest, sacrificing cinema-tickets and whatnot, it would appeal to the so-called "Power" of Luff and he’d come back, just like Salmon, just like Lockett.

Fortunately, we’d got here just in time to avoid the travesty.


DAY FIVE:
Koskoff came out the next day to inform us that the other nine cells in the forest had all been secured, the cultists eradicated. The problem was Edelstein was something of a public figure. If we removed him, somebody was bound to notice he’d gone missing.

"Lobotomize him," Koskoff ordered us finally.

"But he’s a Doctor," Pygram protested. "Won’t it affect his Medical Practice?"

"From what I’ve heard about his practice," Koskoff said, "no."

"And the cells?" I asked.

"Burn them – contained fires," Koskoff ordered.

"But that could take out the whole forest if we’re not careful," Pygram pointed out.

"Then make sure you are careful," Koskoff told us, then left.


NIGHT FIVE:
By about midnight, all the cells throughout the forest had been engulfed in flame. By morning, we figured the forest would be going with it. Now it was time to extract ourselves before the public found out we’d ever been here.

But as the black-choppers set down, flames crackling around us, a chorus of explosions reverberated about the forest. The cell we’d set alight had exploded, tossing us all through the air to a heavy landing amongst the underbrush some fifteen feet away. Had there been some explosives contained within that we’d missed? It seemed unlikely – sure, we might have missed something, but everybody else? By the sound of the explosion, every cell in the forest had exploded.

We watched as flames mushroomed into the sky from nine different sections of the forest. But instead of dissipating, the flames coalesced into a huge sheet of flame which fell back down to the Earth, setting the immediate radius of the forest around it alight.

The sheet of flame hung there suspended, then began to take a humanoid form some fifty feet tall. Although the thing was a being of fire, as it solidified, its features became identifiable.

It was Troy Luff.

"You have interfered with my disciples," the Troy Luff fire-creature said to us in a crackling tone. "For that, I will destroy you all."

The other agents drew their weapons and begun to fire, but bullets were useless. They incinerated upon contact with the Troy Luff fire-creature. Others fled, getting into cars or the black choppers. The fire-creature shot flame at them…but missed. You would’ve thought that with some twenty odd cars and six black choppers departing the scene, he would’ve hit one of them – even fluked hitting one of them. But all he succeeded in doing was setting more of the forest ablaze.

Koskoff, Pygram and myself were so astonished that we’d been fixated to the spot, watching the display. Unfortunately, while we’d been astonished we found that the other Agents and Sleepers had taken all the cars and black choppers and had fled. We were alone now.

Without a word, we turned and fled on foot as the Troy Luff fire-creature pursued us. Pygram was the slowest and the fire-creature reached across the expanse to seize him. But at the very last possible moment, bizarrely, the fire-creature tripped and fell toward the Earth.

As it hit the ground, its form shattered, exploding into little balls of flame which shot across the forest. We didn’t wait around to see if it coalesced again – we continued to run and got the hell out of there.


DAY SIX:
"Oops."

That was Koskoff response to Field Director Roth’s inquiries about setting most of Sydney alight. Fortunately, the Field Director saw the necessity in what we’d done. Sure, the property damage was going to be substantial, but it was worth it to remove any potential of a Troy Luff-comeback. Even while I might not support the Swans, I recognize the madness inherent in such contemplation.

Since we’d gotten out of there quick-smart the previous night, we’re not sure if the Troy Luff fire-creature ever reformed after it hit the ground. Judging by what’s happening in Sydney, we’re guessing it didn’t.

So, hopefully, we have seen the last of Troy Luff.

We hope.


S.
The Last Remaining Bad Guy.
The Incandescent One.

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