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Description
So. I happened across a song, released by the great Lucas Pucas, serving as the these for a little bob-omb named Wick. The Boom-bastic Blitzkrieg. A diminutive fighter in a fanmade side-by-side extravaganza. Rivals of the Aether. But that is not entirely relevant. Back to the song. It described a flying fortress of the Koopa Armada, known as Wick's Warship. I listened, and I enjoyed. And then I thought. "Why is it called Wick's Warship? Why is a humble bob-omb commanding an entire ship of the fleet? Did he steal it? How did he do that? Bob-ombs aren't that smart. Is he that smart? Why is he that smart?" The thought stretched on and on, never concluding, ever expanding. "Well", I thought to myself, "If they didn't bother with an explanation, then I may just imagine one of my own."

So I did.

Wick was a R&D project created with the goal of crafting more intelligent, intuitive, responsive, reactive bob-ombs. They succeeded. More then they ever could have hoped. They had created a bob-omb with brains fit for a sage. Calculations made in less time than a fly's wingbeat. Strategies laid down on top of one another like complimenting layers in a cake. Tactics that could flummox a boatload of brigadiers. But the shining results of the koopa's research proved to be the project's downfall. The little bob-omb didn't want to blow up. It knew that if it's progenitors found out, it would be scrapped, and all would be lost. It did not want to die. He did not want to die. So Project Wick escaped, leaving behind a decoy to give himself just a bit more time. Wick sneaked into the bob-omb battery, camouflaged by thousands of his ball brethren. This would not last him long. They would discover his deception, lock down the batteries, and begin searching for him. All would be lost. He had to escape. So Wick hatched a plan. Making sure to keep out of sight, amid the slumbering legions of little grenades, he broke open as many of his little bomb brother's brains as he could, changing around some wires, moving a solder out of place, rewriting a few if/then statements. Planting new ideas. Creating sympathizers. In a single night, he had an army. An army that would help him in whatever way he saw fit. Now he needed a way out. He began to fear his own discovery again. The workers had returned to their posts for the day's laboring, and the lines of bob-ombs began to march forward as directed. Wick bade his newborn forces to fall in line as directed. If they acted out, they would out him also, and all would be lost. He had to make a plan. From where he hid, Wick looked towards the place where his invisible army was bound, and he almost toppled over in the joy of realization. They were being loaded into the hold of a brand new, gleaming, polished, wooden, stately battleship. Sleek and clean it was, fresh from the manufacturers and awaiting armament. The ship's name read "Bombastique". They were marching into the belly of their salvation, prodded to freedom by their captors. Wick could have laughed. The bay doors closed behind his legions. The engines snarled to life. The vessel rose up into the volcanic sky, angling off towards parts unknown. And deep within her wooden belly, in the darkness of the locked garrison, sat a triumphant little bob-omb. Project Wick was free. Free to take this beautiful ship from her witless diapsid crew, make her his, and disappear into the endless sky. He would never blow up. And so, Captain Wick hatched yet another plan.

Here is the song: youtu.be/9ISXF7x5tmE

Enjoy!

Description
So. I happened across a song, released by the great Lucas Pucas, serving as the these for a little bob-omb named Wick. The Boom-bastic Blitzkrieg. A diminutive fighter in a fanmade side-by-side extravaganza. Rivals of the Aether. But that is not entirely relevant. Back to the song. It described a flying fortress of the Koopa Armada, known as Wick's Warship. I listened, and I enjoyed. And then I thought. "Why is it called Wick's Warship? Why is a humble bob-omb commanding an entire ship of the fleet? Did he steal it? How did he do that? Bob-ombs aren't that smart. Is he that smart? Why is he that smart?" The thought stretched on and on, never concluding, ever expanding. "Well", I thought to myself, "If they didn't bother with an explanation, then I may just imagine one of my own."

So I did.

Wick was a R&D project created with the goal of crafting more intelligent, intuitive, responsive, reactive bob-ombs. They succeeded. More then they ever could have hoped. They had created a bob-omb with brains fit for a sage. Calculations made in less time than a fly's wingbeat. Strategies laid down on top of one another like complimenting layers in a cake. Tactics that could flummox a boatload of brigadiers. But the shining results of the koopa's research proved to be the project's downfall. The little bob-omb didn't want to blow up. It knew that if it's progenitors found out, it would be scrapped, and all would be lost. It did not want to die. He did not want to die. So Project Wick escaped, leaving behind a decoy to give himself just a bit more time. Wick sneaked into the bob-omb battery, camouflaged by thousands of his ball brethren. This would not last him long. They would discover his deception, lock down the batteries, and begin searching for him. All would be lost. He had to escape. So Wick hatched a plan. Making sure to keep out of sight, amid the slumbering legions of little grenades, he broke open as many of his little bomb brother's brains as he could, changing around some wires, moving a solder out of place, rewriting a few if/then statements. Planting new ideas. Creating sympathizers. In a single night, he had an army. An army that would help him in whatever way he saw fit. Now he needed a way out. He began to fear his own discovery again. The workers had returned to their posts for the day's laboring, and the lines of bob-ombs began to march forward as directed. Wick bade his newborn forces to fall in line as directed. If they acted out, they would out him also, and all would be lost. He had to make a plan. From where he hid, Wick looked towards the place where his invisible army was bound, and he almost toppled over in the joy of realization. They were being loaded into the hold of a brand new, gleaming, polished, wooden, stately battleship. Sleek and clean it was, fresh from the manufacturers and awaiting armament. The ship's name read "Bombastique". They were marching into the belly of their salvation, prodded to freedom by their captors. Wick could have laughed. The bay doors closed behind his legions. The engines snarled to life. The vessel rose up into the volcanic sky, angling off towards parts unknown. And deep within her wooden belly, in the darkness of the locked garrison, sat a triumphant little bob-omb. Project Wick was free. Free to take this beautiful ship from her witless diapsid crew, make her his, and disappear into the endless sky. He would never blow up. And so, Captain Wick hatched yet another plan.

Here is the song: youtu.be/9ISXF7x5tmE

Enjoy!