*Once again, you can’t help but keep looking through the window of his offi- Sorry, YOUR office (man, that still feels weird saying). No matter how many times you look, the view is still the same: a pair of barely maintained buildings and those two cooling towers with those weird atom symbols painted on them, still releasing that annoying smoke.

Honestly, you kind of get bored with this view after the first day. That asshole Burns surely felt some sort of happiness at looking at that, but you don’t share his shitty tastes. Still, it’s undoubtedly a better view than the rest of the city. It’s been almost 3 months since the dome blew up, and things haven’t quite gotten back to normal. Sure, people have managed to return to some semblance of normalcy, but the city’s wreckage hasn’t been cleared, and some buildings need a lot of repairs. You wonder when that lazy mayor is going to get off his money jacuzzi and begin fixing this mess. Damn, youngsters these days! Back in your youth, people were more responsible with their jobs!

Anyway, back to the power plant: the place still looks lame with its cheap-ass appearance, not worse for wear, surprisingly, even with all the chaos in the city during the quarantine. Stupid Burns must have paid some good money to keep this place working while the rest of the city had the electricity cut off. He must have kept laughing from his office while the rest of the city went through a hard time. Well, the joke’s on him; it’s your office now!

And once again, your thoughts go back to this. YOUR office. Your workers. Your Power Plant. You still can’t come to terms with it, to tell the truth. Any moment now, you expect your former squad mate to appear from a hidden door in the office and go on a long-ass monologue about how this is a plan to humiliate you again.

But no, this time it’s real; your damn gut tells you that. You really have ownership of this damn building and everything that miserly Burns owns.

You can remember it as if it happened a week ago. In fact, it DID happen a week ago! And like all good stories, it started with poker.

——————————————————––————————————————————– The room was thick with the smell of high-class cigars and wine. It was dark, with only the ceiling light illuminating a small section of the room. Below that light, a group of the most rich and powerful men in Springfield were reunited for their monthly poker night. There was Richard "Rich" Texan. Famous business owner of Springfield and too trigger-happy for your liking whenever he lost a round. You heard through the grapevine that with the dome accident, his business took a serious hit and was going through some hard times, so seeing him here betting absurd amounts of money was a surprise. The rumors could be false, or he was too stubborn to appear weak in front of these people. Your bet was on both. Krusty the Clown was also here, though the star didn’t have the usual smile he always wore for his shows. His clothes were a bit messy and were missing some of his iconic makeup. He seemed to have gone through some rough times these past few weeks, but eh, that’s what all of us are dealing with. I’m not big on sympathy for this whippersnapper. And then there was HIM! Your former Squad mate in the Flying Hellfish Unit, Montgomery Burns, with his bald head and impeccable green suit, had a smarmy smile on his face during the whole poker game. His assistant, Smithers was there, serving as the dealer for this occasion. The man looked like a lost puppy that was happy to follow the asshole wherever he went. Admittedly, he seemed to be the happiest of all the people in the room right now. Lucky him. Oh, and don’t forget you, the butt of the joke for that occasion. Honestly, the only reason you were there was because of Burns. He approached you early today, asking you if you wanted to earn some money today and remember the "good times". You knew the bastard was up to one of his tricks, and accepting would make things worse for you. But there was no other choice.

You needed the money. Even after the dome broke down and things started to get fixed, not everything went back to normal. The Springfield Retirement Castle hadn’t been fixed for all the damage it sustained during the crisis, and most importantly, there was no money for your medicine! You needed that stuff ASAP! So with a weary heart, you got your best suit out, gathered as much money as you had left, and got ready for what was supposed to be one of the worst nights of your life. During the whole game, Burns and the other two players kept observing with mirth and snickering at all actions. How you were barely able to call the bets made, or your crestfallen expression whenever your hand lost to one of theirs. Burns brought you here, so he could put you down even more! "Here! A straight, try and beat that!" You said this, showing Burns what was undoubtedly your best hand so far in the game. "Mmm, a commendable effort, Simpson. Commendable, but useless once again." He said it with an air of arrogance, his smirk not leaving even once! "Full house, see and weep." He said this as he proceeded to take the money pot for this round. And weep you almost did, these last rounds your luck has been down the drain along with your money, while Burns seemed to keep getting better and better. If this were to continue, you would certainly end up poor without a nickel to your name. You watched the other 2 players’ reactions, and they were as disheartening as yours. The Texan threw his hat on the ground and was seemingly unloading all the ammo he had into it, ridding it of holes. Krusty just sighed and was drowning his sorrows with the help of a bottle of wine, his expression as defeated as yours. "Well, gentlemen, as fun as it is to keep stealing all the money you spent so much to get, especially yours, Simpson." He starts, and you almost flip him the bird but barely manage to restrain yourself. "I have other things to do, such as count how much money my wallet has gained. So I propose this: for one last round, the winner gets everything from the other losers. And trust me when I say, everything." He ends with a sly tone and reaches into his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper, and throws it into the middle of the table. Krusty, the Texan, and you get closer to take a good look, and a collective gasp follows. Burns just put on the table the documents giving ownership to his power plant. The crazy bastard was actually serious. You cannot believe this. And so another round began, all the money was thrown on the table, and the tension was high. But as always, Lady Luck seemed to have forgotten about you. Your pathetic excuse of a poker hand you were given wasn’t going to win you anything. You almost fold and call it quits for tonight when something strange happens. You still can’t put your finger on it, but you remember it clearly. As you opened your mouth to quit, the ticking of a clock started ringing in your ears, and your vision was suddenly blurred. You closed your eyes and rubbed them. All the while, the ticking didn’t stop. You assume it was the stress getting to you. After a bit, you opened your eyes, and the ticking seemed to finally stop. You looked at your poker hand, hoping somehow in the mere moments that passed the cards would transform into something useful, but alas, things stayed the same. As you looked up into Burns’s eyes and were ready to give up, you noticed something interesting. A small glint was coming off Burns’s wrist. At first, you assumed it was a watch, but after giving it a better look, things started to make more sense.

"You cheating snake!" You hollered as your body moved faster than someone your age would expect. You grasped Burns’ right arm and rolled up his sleeve. There, strapped to his wrist, was a cardholder with an Ace.

"What’s that, mate?" Texan said as he leveled his revolver to Burns. "You weren’t thinking of cheating, were you?" His gaze was murderous. Krusty too, seemed to pick up what was going on, and his expression looked pissed.

"Um... this you mean?" Burns said as he clutched his wrist, his gaze looking quickly into the eyes of the other 3 players, trying to come up with something. "It… my lucky holder, of course; I just use it for good fortune…" He still kept that annoying smirk, but sweat was starting to appear on his face. "It’s like the lucky revolvers you like bragging about, don’t you? Hehehe." He gives a weak laugh.

"Then you wouldn’t mind playing another game without it, right?" You pressed on as you ripped the thing from him.

"What happens if I don’t want to, eh, Simpson?" He turns his gaze to you, and you stare at nothing but hate and pettiness incarnate. And you didn’t back down one bit, you couldn’t give him any ground.

Luckily, the other two players were on your side this time. The Texan quickly fired a shot from his revolver, the bullet passing extremely close to Burns’s head, and he, with a frightened expression, conceded almost immediately.

Except that wasn’t the only thing that happened. The bullet impacted with a wall clock (you swear that wasn’t there at the beginning, but you could have just forgotten, eh? It happens), and it ricochets into a glass of expensive alcohol. The glass and contents somehow landed straight into Smithers’s eyes. The man dropped to the ground, squirming in pain as the alcohol burned his eyes. But no one at the table paid attention to him, all their focus was on the man who spent the whole night cheating.

"Fine, fine!" The cheater raises his hands in exasperation. "We will do it your way. I don’t need some cheap tricks to be successful, Pff." He crossed his eyes and folded his arms. "Smithers, quick shouting in pain, you are making me look bad." The assistant, after a while, managed to stand up, but his eyes were inflamed and possibly more hurt. And once again, nobody cared, not even you.

And so a new game was played. The winner takes all. And this time things were looking up for you.

Smithers dealt the cards somewhat clumsily, and you had to use huge amounts of your willpower to not break into a full-on grin. Burns also kept that same smirk of his, while Krusty and the Texan each had a grimace.

A few rounds passed, and things started to reach their apex.

"Straight Flush." Burns declares as he shows his hand, confidence radiating from his slimy body. "Show what you’ve got, people." He says it with a little snicker.

The Texan immediately throws his poker hand on the table, nothing worth mentioning except a pair of 9. Krusty had folded the turn before and stopped paying attention to the game, instead, he spent the time drinking more from a flask he had brought.

You just stared at his hand, your face giving away nothing, while inside your heart was pounding so hard you expected to have a heart attack anytime now.

"C’mon, Simpson, stop wasting my time." He says it with a quick motion of his hand. "I need to get back home. Some people need their beauty sleep."

Without any objections, you decide to listen to him and drop your cards onto the table, so everyone can see them. Immediately, a few gasps and a shout of full horror resonated across the room.

"NOOOOOOO!!! "How can this be?" Montgomery Burns stares in abject horror at the royal flush across the table, where you sit. The 10, Jack, Queen, King, and Ace of Diamonds are standing there proudly.

"I think you were talking about MY new house, don’t you?" You said this as you grabbed the whole pot. Not only money, but a few documents that indicated you were the proud owner of a new business and some other shinnies.

"You-You think I will let this happen? Give it back. GIVE!!! IT!!! BACK!!!" Burns tried to stop you, but the most he could do with his skeletal body was to be dragged down the street as he held onto your leg. After walking down a few streets, he loses the grip on his leg, and all he can do is stare impotently at your back.

"I will have my revenge, Simpson!" Burns shouted while laying on the ground, his fist raised high as he cursed to the heavens. "Do you hear me?!"

You ignored him, of course, and were more focused on figuring out where his mansion was.

And that’s the story of how you became the new owner of Springfield’s Nuclear Plant.

——————————————————––————————————————————– You didn’t know what to do with all of Burns’s riches, and you had no clue how to run the power plant. You were totally at a loss until your friend Jasper suggested it to you.

"How about you hire someone to help you do that stuff?" He said this as he rested on one of the cushy sofas in Burns’ mansion. The place was elegant but had some issues. Mostly, all the pictures and statues of Burns decorated the place. The man had an EGO! "Isn’t that what Burns does with that lackey of his?"

"I suppose that’s as good an idea as any." You shrug, deciding you lost nothing trying. "Thanks, Jasper."

The man shrugs, deciding to keep his focus on the TV. Both of you were watching a marathon of Mattock, and it was great!

Jasper and you may not have seen eye to eye before. But now he is one of the few people you can count on. Even more than your son. As much as he says he is here only for the food and TV, you know he has your back on all of this.

And so you decided to make a post in the newspaper. The next day at the power plant, you spent all morning in your office, waiting. After a few hours, it seemed no one was going to come. But at the last moment, he appeared.

*"Hi-diddly-ho!" Your son’s most hated nemesis, and owner of the now-destroyed Leftorium, Ned Flanders. "You look like you could use some help."

And so, that’s how Ned became your assistant. Your Smithers, but in a cool way.

——————————————————––————————————————————–

*Lots of people came to visit you after they learned the news: Mayor Quimby asked for a bribe, and Burn’s lawyers asked if they worked for you now ("How would I know!?"), Bart and Lisa’s principal who wanted money for the school, Agnes Skinner who came to pick up her son, your friend Hans (who just wanted a beer and nearly got tackled by security because he tripped an alarm while looking for the kitchen), the kid’s principal’s boss who came to see where his employee went off to, but the last one that got your attention the most.

He was a fellow in a black suit and sunglasses by the name of "-John Doe, and I would like a word with you about something important." Important? Wonder what that’s about? It’s probably best to let him keep talking. It’s not like he’s from the gover-"I represent some…concerned parties on behalf of the United States Government." OH SON OF A BITC-.

"OH SON OF A BI- "Cough! cough! cough!" Sorry, frog in my throat. Come on, have a seat." You damn parasite. You think darkly as the slime in human clothing takes a seat while you try to hide your disgust.

Figures: An octogenarian can’t make 8 figures in this country without Uncle Sam taking a cut. Never mind that you’re a veteran (not that it’s stopped them before). You don’t want to dodge taxes as much as Burns did, but it still hurts. The least they could do is send you a spook who can think up a good fake name. I mean, John Doe? Like the actor? These government people have no imagination. You thought of better names when you hid with Jasper to avoid recruitment! Might as well cut the bullshit. "So, what do you want with me? And what happened to that guy on the monitor? Did you guys fire him?"

The slime in human clothes just smiles and takes a seat in front of you. "I’m afraid that counts as classified information".

*"I’ll show you classified!". You forcibly pulled a lever under your desk, revealing a bevy of buttons and dials Burns had installed to torture anyone who even mildly displeased him.

"Once I remember which one of these does what, you’ll be sorry you were ever born!" John just barely flinches when you flip a small dial, and an arm extends from the ceiling…to pour him a beer. "Heh. Well, while you’re doing that, I’m going to ignore that murder attempt and get on with my spiel."

"See, we’ve noticed that in the 3 months since the dome-" "Which YOU put us in!". You turn a knob, lowering a wall to reveal a trophy case full of even more busts of Burn’s head. Great.

"-that Springfield is still in dire straits. Broken buildings, damaged infrastructure-" "Which would’ve been worse if you bombed us!" Another button lowers a disco ball. The rug behind John retracts to reveal a lit dance floor as music begins to play. You like it! "-and all the roads leading to Shelbyville, except Springfield’s, looks like a bombing run, for some godforsaken reason!" Heh, that one was Springfield, actually: If they wouldn’t help Springfield when it was trapped in the dome, then we’ll give them the next best thing! Finally, a trapdoor opens 5 feet to John’s left! "There! Flanders, throw him in!" John grabs the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Look, the bottom line is that this isn’t sustainable for you, and ignoring it isn’t sustainable for us if we want to use Shelbyville as a base to start reclaiming the wasteland." You look up from your console, utterly befuddled. Did you hear that right? "The waste…land?" What in Sam Hill is he talking about?

John stared at you with a mix of confusion and pity. "Yes?" You cleaned your ears again "...The greatest natural disaster in American history? The continental dust bowl that’s swallowed almost a 4th of this country and ends a stone’s throw away from Shelbyville!?!" He says this while looking at the two of you, who have no idea what’s going on.

Even Flanders seemed baffled by this. Thinking about it gave you a mild headache that came as soon as it left. Ignoring you, John straightened his tie with a look of disgust that seemed split between your ignorance and his outburst. "Well, while you were living under a rock-" A pointed glare cuts off your next interjection. "We were planning on doing something about it".

John pulls out a file labeled "Springfield Reconstruction Grant" and plants it on your desk. "Signing this document will send an elite fleet of construction crews to rebuild Springfield at no charge to yourself. As a matter of fact, you’ll also be given a large sum, IF you agree to never leak details about the dome or its destruction to the media." Flanders takes over while you’re still reeling from the news. "Sir, I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why on earth would you ask this of us instead of the mayor?" He says this as he picks up the document and starts checking it out. "Because as the owner of the former Burns estate, we believe Mr. Simpson holds more salient power and authority over the remnants of Springfield than that buffoon ever has. Now sign the damn papers; I don’t have all day." Your eyes met Flander’s for a short moment; uncertainty was also in his eyes. You weren’t sure what to do. After thinking about it for a moment, you choose:

*[]: Sign the damn papers. You don’t think the government could do anything to make up for those days in the dome, but sore feelings won’t put a roof over people’s heads. The cash is a nice bonus, though. *

(Automatically completes every Springfield reconstruction action. Abe gains 10 income. Minor reclamation efforts near Shelbyville can begin now?) []: Don’t. It doesn’t matter if they pave the streets with gold, no one in Springfield will ever forgive the government for what they did! Besides, the damages aren’t as bad as they look (especially without Burns monopolizing the town’s resources). (Abe gains a hefty amount of blackmail that can be used to extort the government (within limits) or deal a heavy blow to its reputation. Abe will have more freedom to explore the wasteland. If this option is picked, Springfield will attempt one reconstruction action per turn. Most of the actions involving Springfield will be locked out for Abe until the whole thing is fixed.) ——————————————————––————————————————————– After the damn spook leaves, you put your head down on the table, sighing as you pull out your pocket watch, at least it’s final—it’s 11.59 am! Ah, dammit!

Oh, wait! It’s a minute behind, and you start to look it over with your old yellow hands the ticking sound ringing in your ears as you do so...

Tick.

Tick..

*Tick... As the old yellow man stares at the watch unmoving, I raise a single old and wrinkled finger before tapping the watch, which moves its hand a minute forward before speaking to myself with no one but me able to hear... "You have a great power, sergeant ... and a great duty, I am afraid, and though you may not know this, I hope you are well suited for the task...for all our sakes. Though you will have those who will help you in this endeavor."

I say this before turning away from the still-frozen man and starting heading towards the door, before stopping at the doorway and staring back at Abe... and what lies beyond. "Isn’t that right… questers?"

*Tick...

Tick..

Tick.

As you look at the watch with your old yellow hands tapping it, you blink and see that it now reads the correct time of 12:00. "Huh, guess tapping it actually worked?" you say before raising your head and looking around at the empty office...Oh, wait, no, Ned is still here making some hot cocoa.