Part I
Sgt. Stan went to Arlington on Memorial Day to commemorate the passing of his sister Lydia. She had died while trying to infiltrate the lair of Baron Bill Boronlover. He placed 17 roses at her grave, and wept dramatically, like an actor seeking an Oscar.
Just then, a robed figure stood before him.
Shes not here, you know, the figure said.
What? Stan asked.
Your sister, Lydia: shes not here. Shes still in Kaborgistan, being held by the Baron.
How-how do you know this? Stan asked.
I am he who can be many places at once; I see things. I know things. I pay for things, but then return them when I find them unappealing.
But anyway, back you your sister. She lives. But she is being held captive in the Kaborgistan capital.
Stans face reddened. I will tell my commander, and I will go find her!
No! You must not tell anyone. Only a single-minded rebel on a solo mission can find her. It is written thusly in the prophecy.
But if I have the Army to help, I can use their huge-ass guns and shit!
No! The prophecy! No guns, asshole!
Stan gave in. Fine, no guns. But I will find her!
Good for you, Jack! And the robed figure of Rabrrrrrr sauntered off, chewing his spice chits, and humming an Air Supply tune.
And with that, Stan left for Kaborgistan, to find his sailor sister.
Part III