When the aircraft carrier landed on Alcatraz, Billy stopped waiting for the General to give the order; he strapped himself in and started to motorvate towards the chaos.

Mecha-Billy’s body was made out of polybdinium, tritanium, and omnivinyl chloride. Its skin was self-repairing and woven out of carbonated fiber, which was carbon fiber with a bubbly personality. Capable of short bursts of flight and armed with a laser-penis, Mecha-Billy represents the pinnacle of human society, as long as you grade societies on how well they can build giant robot war drummers.

The Colossus Program had been started after conventional warfare–at least on a small scale–had proven ineffective against the Terrordactyls. After first laying waste to the Bay Area, they hit cities in Africa and killed three million in Indonesia, so people figured that the problem would just work itself out, but then they showed up in Tampa and it was game on, motherfucker.

The mechs grew larger with each phase of the Program, but as the robots got bigger, so did the importance of the driver. he or she had to be incredibly dextrous, able to move each limb independently while paying attention to the bigger picture.

First, they tried tap dancers, who do very little with their arms; and then Greco-Roman wrestlers, who have a congruent problem with their legs. Someone brought up using two people, connected via some sort of computer-aided telepathy, to control one mech. And the other people in the room shouted at him, and said that idea was so stupid and obviously inserted to add tension or a love interest, and that it made no sense, and that it was so contrived and unforgivably moronic that it ruined giant robots punching giant monsters in the face.

What about drummers, said one of the scientists or army guys or lunatic billionaires who get to be in the room when these sorts of things are discussed. We’ll get the greatest drummer of all time, someone who do four things at once while yelling at the guitar player and hucking empty beer cans at roadies’ heads. We’ll use the Time Sheath technology to reach back to the golden age of rocking and rolling, when the mightiest drummers roamed the Midwest

One of the other people at meeting who deserves a name since he’s not going to live to see the end of this paragraph–let’s call him Alan–asks if he heard right, and if the Colossus Program actually had some sort of working time machine, and the other guy’s all, duh, and Alan wants to know why they don’t just use the time machine to go back and kill the Terrordactyls as they spawned and then the meeting got back to kidnapping drummers from the past to stuff into giant robots to punch monsters. (It should be noted that Alan was garroted by a ninja during that sentence. TotD apologizes for the omission.)

“Who should we get?”

“John Bonham?” “Keith Moon?”

“While they do have the skills and acute rage the job requires, they’re both completely uncontrollable. Also, we don’t have the budget for them. Think smaller venues.”

To be continued…