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Sometime in the early 1980's, as the Soviet Bloc felt the first cramps in its iron grip over the East, the KGB initiated an experiment in Soul-Control. The details of this experiment are unknown, but it had two important results that inevitably changed the course of human history forever. 1.) The Soviet Union lost all control of its empire, the Wall came down, and the people of Eastern Europe rejoiced in the end of an era. And 2.) The CIA found out about this plot, and decided to counter strike. With much further implications, they initiated a top-secret project that only a few shadowy officials of the government had even heard whispers about. They used four test subjects and neuro-genetic manipulation of a recently discovered asteroid deep at the bottom of the ocean to create the ultimate weapon against the Soviets. But, before this weapon was fully developed, the Wall came down, and so did the funding for the unnamed project. It was disbanded and the few who knew about it, all files were destroyed, and the weapons (as they were incapable of being destroyed but were only dangerous when combined together) were scattered across the country. The memory of the nameless project fell into oblivion.

Then a new enemy came to earth. One far more dangerous than the KGB; One whose presence can be felt throughout the pulse of the Galaxy. And this force has been enslaving the human race, cultivating them for harvest. The times have been growing dark, and they seemed hopeless.

Until the Autumn of 2008: somehow the weapons had awakened, probably sensing the coming threat, and the Universe moved them like chess pieces preparing for a counter-assault. They had been developing on their own for decades and, under circumstances never intended by their CIA creators, have united to face the Enemy that threatens the existence of humanity as we know it.

They are building an army. They are unstoppable. They are MachineGun Mojo.  

...And so it was that Machinegun Mojo ventured northward.  Across that state line and it was legal to smoke inside bars.  And Rooster took full advantage, smoking three packs in the span of 6 hours.  The first stop was Pauley's Place where the bartender was even more wasted than the mojo brothers themselves.  After discussion of Pakistani politics, fried chicken, and the Chicago Parking Garage Conpiracy, a mention was made of the greatest Milwaukee-based rock 'n roll band from the 1970s: Big Hoss and the Ponderosas.  Pauley claimed to be a founding member, though it was hard to trust a man whose eyes were so crossed he was pouring 8 shots of tequila at a time for Machinegun Mojo.  Then in walked a couple, the boyfriend obviously not liking his girlfriend's glances in Machinegun Mojo's direction.  After a few comments made on both sides of obscene, it turns out that they were originally from Chicago, and that they were big fans of MgM.  They were also attending the EODM show that night at the Rave, and so Machinegun Mojo partied down with them and Pauley, who was by then slurring more than a Irish stroke victim on St. Paddy's Day.
After Doc found a slick, rockstar parking space the guys entered the Rave with mojo radiating from their pores.  The coat-check girl's head nearly exploded as Rooster took his sunglasses off and kissed her hand.  After gaining her composure, she handed the guys their coat-check numbers, and Kid Ominous felt the trickles of foreboding as their numbers all spelled impending doom for some members of Machinegun Mojo that evening.
EODM took the stage and they rocked.  Doc, being tall as a shit-pile in Arkansas, saw a dude in a badass hat and sunglasses up front who was apparently from the Chicago band Megatouch.  Machinegun Mojo tried to recruit them into the revolution, but then realized that Megatouch was neither cool enough, nor even a real band.  Megatouch started to cry when they realized how lame they really were.  At that point Rooster's mojo took control and Doc and Hazoo lifted him up and he crowd-surfed to the front row before falling because two 4-foot-8 girls refused to hoist him up on stage.  During the malay that was EODM at that point, Rooster's head broke his fall and he somehow got stripped of his ultraviolet-hued shades.  Kid O and Hazoo came to the rescue and knew the tides were turning on Machinegun Mojo.  Then some tarty little brunette rocker started to get friendly with Rooster, but he noticed, nestled within her magnetic cleavage, the missing shades.  Obviously she wanted him to sign them, but he took them back and gave her a wink instead.  She disintegrated into a thousand monarch butterflies just as EODM finished.
Machinegun Mojo needed to empty their bladders, especially Hazoo because his bladder stopped growing during the second-trimester of his incubation.  It is a rare medical occurance that Machingun Mojo will one day hold a huge benefit concert for. 
Anyway, so as they were pissing in the full-length urinals, Kid Ominous's premonitions manifested.  Doc, for some reason unbeknownst to even himself, tackeled Rooster into the urinal.  In an act of revenge, Rooster pissed on Doc's leg.  Doc tried to flee out of the bathroom and into the crowded parlor.  But Rooster, jeans falling down, chased on, finishing his piss in the full view of a thousand onlookers.  Anyone who gazed directly at Rooster's glorious phallus immediatly melted into a pile of organic sludge.  Just then, Rooster spotted Doc and quickly pursued.
Pants half down, he lunged at Doc with his reflexive Snake-Style Wushu and, using his sunglasses as a weapon, knocked out Doc's front tooth in a flurry of Lo Han Shadow Hands.  Doc, in shock that his impeccable handsomness had been marred, pretended to be apologetic and non-repercussive about the whole thing.  Rooster, feeling guilty for destroying the best smile in the band, thought it only fair to let Doc hit him.  Doc, pretending to go along with Hazoo and Kid Ominous, feigned that this was a bad idea.
Outside, however, Doc's secret plan unveiled as he cracked the sweet-spot on Rooster's perfectly-chisled face with his fist.  Rooster went down quicker than a sophomore brought to prom, and there was little to his memory after that.
Incapacitated as he was, the band still had the respect for their fallen comrade to put him in shotgun.  Doc, who in no way should have been driving, raised hell down 94 across the state line with the speed of a hell-hound.  After howling at the moonless sky and never-ending highway, Machingun Mojo arrived at a strategically-located safe-house.  They began to prepare for the next mission...