Editing Johnny Bravo

He's the protagonist of a children's TV show that would work wonders if he enlisted in the Imperial Guard.
Loves "Hot mommas" and his hair just needs some dye to make it into a commisar's hat.
[[Image:Johnny_Bravo2.jpg|frame|left|This is your vanilla Johnny Bravo]]
[[Image:Johnny_Bravo.jpg|frame|right|And now he's Commissar Bravo]]

== Some Writefag Stuff ==

“Alright, boys, listen up!” The commissar in front of the assembled troops took his place on the raised platform so that those in the back could see him. With his hat covering a balding head and his uniform stretched to accommodate his distended belly, he was not a physically imposing man. However, all men and women of the Guard knew that to reach his rank, you were required to fight the very demons of the warp and inspire others to follow. Not a single man spoke as he commanded the scene.

“Now, I'm sure you've all lost someone you know to the forces of Chaos, be it a brother of blood, a brother in battle, or your previous commissar, Emperor take his soul.” The mass of faces in front of him grew stern in reflection as he continued his speech. “But, darn it, you've all come a long way in this fight, and I know every one of you are willing to see it though to its grisly end. The enemy is ruthless, cunning, and most of all...eh...uh...Did anyone just hear a scream?”

The heads in his audience perked up, listening to the wind that crept through the trees in silence. Then, a feminine cry could be heard from the field hospital.
“Men! The enemy is here, and we're gonna give them what they've got coming; zeal, fury, and...uh...none of you are moving.”
It was true. Men in the crowd were sighing, and hanging heads in shame. Someone spoke up in the back, “Where's Bravo?”

The member of the commissariat was in shock. He had lead three separate armies from separate worlds against the forces of Chaos, Orks, and mutants, but never had he seen men simply not care about an attack. “FINE!” he announced to the group of disheartened soldiers, “I'll kill all the heretics myself, You just watch!” With nary another word he marched off the stand that allowed him to hide his shrinking height and unsheathed his saber, making for the endangered hospitalars.

A Tech Priest hurried up to his side mid-march. “Now, sir,” he apologized in a slightly nasally voice, “I can understand your concern, but there's really no cause for alarm. Everything's perfectly normal!” The commissar turned to see the gaunt priest smiling at him with unmodified jaw or teeth.

“Son,” he shot back as he threw open the doors to the medical facility, “I'll admit I'm not familiar with yer customs on this planet, but I know that when a woman of the Guard screams, it's not for anything less horrible than what she sees on a daily basis.”

The priest looked down to his feet, “Johnny's not that bad.”

The officer stopped at an intersection of hallways. “Johnny?”

As if to answer his question, a guardsman tumbled into view from around the corner, having been thrown with enough force to make him skid for a good half a meter, which was even more impressive considering the guardsman's sizable mass.

A hospitilar called out after him, “Not if you were the last man on EARTH!”
A short while later, a disgruntled commissar waited for an adept to finish patching up the man that was apparently the problem. The little girl, no older than ten, bounced happily on her heels as she apllied gauze to the face of the guardsman called 'Bravo,' all the while humming and talking to him as though she didn't have a care in the world. To his relief, the guardsman at least looked bored out his mind from making small talk with a little girl.
She pulled away from the soldier and clapped her hands together. “All done, Johnny!”

He ran his hands through his blonde hair and hopped off of the bench he had been sitting on. “Thanks, kid.”
The adept didn't break her smile, pleasantly reminding him that her name was Suzy.

He was already walking away from her and towards the commissar when he answered, “Yeah, whatever.”
The commissar sauntered up to the man halfway and put his arm around his shoulder. Bravo looked at his commander as though he just noticed him from behind his antique glasses.

“Now, son,” the officer began, “I want all my troops to think of me as family. Ya'know, someone they can look up to, all father-like.”

“Sure thing, Pops,” the guardsman answered as he picked up stride to match his superior's.

“Pops?” The commissar chuckled. “I like that. And you're Mr., uh, Johnny, right?”

“In the flesh”

“That's wonderful.” The pair arrived at a corner, and began to take a turn. Pops took the opportunity to shove Bravo, hard, face-first into the wall. A sickening crush followed at the two collided. The commissar turned to face the man, to berate him and to put the fear of both the Emperor and his commissar into him.

Bravo simply looked back as though nothing happened. “So I bet you're here to replace ol' Commissar Wilkes, huh?”

Pops blinked back surprise as they continued their walk uninterrupted. “Yer, uh, not easy to scare are ya?”

Bravo looked genuinely confused. “Well, why'd I be scared?”

Pop's gray brows furrowed, taking offense to the obvious insult. With trained precision, he unholstered his bolt pistol in the blink of an eye and pointed it at Bravo's head. The commissar's face twisted into a terrifying grin.
The pair stopped in the hallway, silence filling the void where their footsteps resounded. Guardsman Johnny blinked behind his darkened glasses.

“Nice gun,” Bravo began. “Want to see mine?”

Pops eyes widened at the threat. His finger gripped the trigger tighter.
With no warning, Bravo spun out of the older man's grip. Pops was thrown off balance, but quickly leveled his pistol at the guardsman, ready to fire.

“HOO!”
Pops held his fire as Bravo exclaimed and struck a pose, his arms flexing above his head, showing off an impressive pair of pythons.

“HA!”
He switched poses, both arms at his chest, showing off his killer pecs.

“HUH!”
He ended his show by ripping the fatigues on his chest with a final, powerful flex.
The commissar stood motionless for a while, his weapon still pointed at the man's heart. He started to chuckle, then to laugh, and before long his belly shook with every gasped breath.
Bravo held his pose as Pops wiped a tear from his eye and holstered his weapon once more. “Son, I like you. Now put yer shirt back on and fall in outside. Them Slaaneshi cultists are on the move.”

Bravo raised a blonde eyebrow. “Oh mama!”