"This is it, men!" Platoon commander Stevenson looked at each man in the eight person armored transport in the eye. Each one was immaculate in their Hugo Boss designed tailored uniforms, crisply pressed. His voice was simultaneously being broadcast to five other transports. "We knew this day would come. We trained for this day. We begged for this day. And how, men, it is upon us."

He paused for a heartbeat.

"We are deep in enemy territory, gentlemen. The closest Saks is 500 miles away. Hell, there's not even a Nordstroms in this city!"

He heard gasps and waited for a moment as his men remembered themselves and were eyes forward once more. "And we are here to send a message. You. Can. Not. Hide. Whether you are deep in the swamps of Florida. Or struggling in the plains of Oklahoma. Or just old. We will find you. And we will keep you from burning your filth and depravity onto the retinas of our children!"

Nods all around as his squad seemed to squeeze and caress their weapons in anticipation with hands neatly wrapped in supple black leather tactical gloves.

"We will accept nothing less but a world made safe for the fashion forward." Stevenson had to pause for a moment, bringing a fist to his mouth to choke back his emotion.

"Sorry, I am just overwhelmed with the importance of this mission."

He steeled himself. "Men, we were authorized for deadly force and we will not hesitate! We are marching on their citadel and we will wipe out our enemies! As soon as those doors open we will be surrounded by a hell none of us has ever known." The vessels showed through his undercut hair, his well oiled beard trembling. "But we do it so those that we love never have to."

"We will be surrounded by a hostile, well armed enemy. They will be in front, and behind, and to either side of us. And we will have them right where we want them! It will be a target rich environment and you will show no mercy just as they have shown no mercy to those that must lay their eyes upon them day after day!"

"There are good people here. Saving up, sometimes for months or years. Ordering their clothes online and wearing them in secret. They will rise up, praising us for freeing them from the tyranny of poorly crafted synthetic off the shelf godawful shit stock clothes!!!" He sputtered in rage, then slicked back a rope of hair shiny with product that fell over his forehead.

The armored carrier squeaked to a quick stop.

"Next we go after the polos!" he screamed as the doors burst open and he squinted against the bright neon 'Walmart Supercenter' and the waiting maw of overweight men showing their underbellies and their muumuu clad wives pulling out their concealed carries.

Stevenson led the charge, his last thought before a .38 slug and pieces of his skull tore through his brain: "If we take Bentonville, we can take the world!"