And so it begins. This is the final chapter of this overarching and mildly good story. I sincerely hope you enjoy this one, because I know I'm going to enjoy writing it! :D Once again, this is placed in the FOP section, as Timmy is the hero.
Now, lettace begin (misspelling intentional)...
The Beginning
Prologue: Operation Crossroads
July 25th, 1946. Universe C.
The Pacific Ocean is usually pictured as a calm, peaceful region of tranquil oceans and small, vibrant islands. In this respect, the armada of rusty ships that had been arranged not far from the Bikini Atoll was a jarring contrast.
One such ship was the large battleship, USS Arkansas.
The Arkansas was a US Battleship of the Wyoming class, launched in 1910. It had served in both World Wars, but was now obsolete, replaced by a new generation of warships.
What few knew - least of all Admiral William Blandy, the nominal commander of this strange flotilla – was that the Arkansas was currently playing host to a small item that would one day change the fate of the multiverse.
It had been the diadem of a crewmember that had died at Okinawa, left forgotten after the war was ended. This diadem had a history behind it, mind you; it had been stolen from an Aztec woman by a Spaniard, who'd had it nicked by a Frenchman in the War of the Spanish Succession, a Brit in the French & Indian War, and an American in the War of 1812.
Long story short, it was an old, Aztec creation which no-one had ever considered significant.
It would be, given time.
For now, however, it sat aboard the Arkansas, never hearing the ship's impending doom being counted off by a man in a ship more then ten miles away.
"Five…four…three…two…one…fire."
The atomic bomb stationed at the centre of the fleet exploded.
Smashed by the shockwave and by a massive bloom of boiling water, the Arkansas was literally tilted downwards and flipped over. Her starboard decks were literally smashed, and her hull structure was forcefully shortened by twenty-five feet.
It goes without saying that she was sunk.
Universe A; Around Sixty Years Later…
"We're always after some bloody Mac Guffin," sighed Colonel R. Atkinson.
He stood on a ledge, overlooking a small base on the other side of the flatlands ahead. He rolled his eyes, and spoke into his radio.
"Tell me, Lieutenant, how did we end up in the Savannah?" he asked.
"You tell me," came the voice of Lieutenant Max Bishop, "All I'm concerned about right now is getting this dispatch Freakshow's put out to his goons."
"Oh yes, the Fairy Immunization Network, Allied League," deadpanned Atkinson, "F.I.N.A.L., how very bloody original."
"You've gotta give 'em credit," mused another voice – that of Valerie Grey, "They make F.A.I.R. look like amateurs."
"Let's not delve in this drivel," sighed Atkinson, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are go."
The air was filled with the sound of propellers as four helicopters flew over the horizon behind the Colonel, heading straight for the F.I.N.A.L. base.
Aboard one of the transport helicopters, Bishop was giving the final sound off for the troops aboard.
"OK, you younger guys don't know what you're getting into here," he explained, "These guys are a step up from F.A.I.R. – they're well trained, well equipped and answerable to the President only. However, we have one thing they don't have."
He grinned, and pointed to the lead helicopter.
"We have a gunship. Now sound off!"
There was a clicking noise as Bishop's men, Sergeants Mark Gavin and Gregorio Rourke, loaded their weapons. Hesitantly, the other troops in the chopper (most of them deserters from other militaries) followed suit.
The gunship soared ahead of the column and over the gates of the base, before firing a quick salvo of missiles to blanket the entire area. Down below, the tired, disoriented and confused troops ran from their barracks, some shooting at the helicopter with their rifles – an exercise in futility.
Once the gunship had used up all of its ammo, it pulled back. The transport helicopters quickly touched down, offloading their contingents.
"CAVE!" yelled an enemy office, "THEY'RE FROM THE CAVE, FIRE!"
A pink ray of ectoplasm made contact with his face, knocking him several yards backwards.
"Thank you, Sergeant Obvious," grinned Valerie Grey, walking towards the main building of the base.
The commander of the base was a man named Lt. Colonel Burke, who was currently packing up his supplies and intending to make a quick exit. Grabbing a file, he ran for the door, and it burst open.
Molly Keith slammed a fist into his face, and he was knocked out.
Scowling, Molly knelt down and picked up the file.
"This is ours," she spat.
Bishop was currently providing covering fire for the helicopters when he saw Molly returning with the file.
"Alright, she's got it; we're getting out of dodge before Cyclops has us locked!" he ordered.
"Don't have to tell me twice!" snapped Rourke.
The troops of the Cave quickly scrambled back into the helicopters, which hurriedly lifted off. It was lucky that they had – one barely missed an anti-rocket to the cockpit.
"Alright, they're outbound," mused Atkinson, still watching from the rise, "Initiate phase engine and give everyone the good news – we've got the last piece of the puzzle to finding the Balance."
He turned off the radio and allowed himself a small grin.
They had spent two years in hiding from F.A.I.R. before striking against them. In that one night, they had lost nearly everything, and now a year had passed.
Now, at last, they could rise again. This time, he hoped, they would win.