Welcome Privates, or should I say wolf fodder, to the United States Space Marine Corps! In case you don’t know already, we’re at war! War, war, war, I sure love that word, almost as much as crunching a dracula draft dodger into a cube. I’m Colonel Blood Dragon, 99 star general of the USSMC. Our goal is to secure Earth Prime by hunting every Wolfman, Wolfwoman, and Wolfchild and pulling out every Dracular toothache this planet has. You’re first mission is to assist me in wrecking fanged menaces in the old Slappyland Theme park. Currently the barkers and biters are skirmishing over who gets to control the thrilling and fun Super Slammer, a roller coaster that also doubles as a super slamming device. We can’t possibly let such an exciting and dangerous part of human fungineering to fall into enemy claws. Thats where you come in. You’ll ride your dirt bikes over there under cover of night and do mad wheelies around the enemy lines, generally being a nuisance. They’ll be so preoccupied watching the X-Games unfolding in front of them that it will never come across their hairy or undead heads that I’m pumping up on my unobtanium bow-flex so hard that the planet will move slightly into the path of an approaching comet. It will strike directly into the main battleline and hopefully squish every last Warwolf and Dracula Battle Thrall into more cartoonish pancakes than at Bugs Bunny’s IHOP. Then you clean up while I get a medal. Now get your crash helmets on and don your dirt bikes, all of you are rolling out immediately!

And may Adams, Bush, and Clinton watch over you all.