(Disclaimer: I don't own Command and Conquer, but I own the people and units you
haven't heard of.)
Washington D.C., this proud capitol city once stood for all that was right and just
in America, but now it was a scrapheap of bombed-out buildings, twisted piles of slagged
metals, and Soviet Troops marching relentlessly throughout the city. The air was thick
with the odor of death.
In one such junkyard of slagged metals, on the corner of Eighth & I streets (the
former location of the Marine barracks) something was moving. Carefully, a dirty and
sweaty woman crawled from her hiding place beneath the remains of a 65' T-Bird. Her
name was Tanya, and she was, or so she believed, the last Allied soldier in D.C. She wore
urban camouflage clothing, a hatch work of grays, blacks, and whites. On either hip she
carried a .45 caliber Beretta, her personal weapons. In her arms she carried an AK-47,
stolen from a Soviet Conscript. [Damn! I should have at least put up a good fight when
that Conscript Squadron overran the White House, but I had been ordered to run, I follow
orders!] Tanya thought. The rumble of machinery interrupted her, and she peeked around
the junk heap to see what it was. Five Soviet Flak Tracks pulled up at the edge of the
junkyard, scarcely 30 meters from her. The rear doors opened and four Conscripts and
one Engineer exited the first four vehicles, and from the fifth Flak Track exited five Tesla
Troopers. They sat on a clear patch of concrete and started speaking rapidly in Russian,
and Tanya craned to hear better. She made her decision, and aimed her AK-47 rifle at the
nearest Conscript. She fired off a three round burst, but she wasn't used to the AK-47's
recoil and shot wide by several feet. "In there!" a Conscript shouted in Russian as
everyone jumped up to grab his or her weapon. Tanya scrambled deep into the metal junk
heap, hoping to evade the shots as they started firing madly into the scrapheap. "Check
fire! Check fire!" a new voice shouted loudly in Russian. Tanya peered out at the
newcomer, a guy who looked like the Soviet Equivalent of an American Green Beret.
[Colonel.] Something in the back of Tanya's mind told her. "Tesla Troopers! Fry her!"
the Soviet Colonel shouted. Tanya realized what he meant and cursed herself for her
stupidity, they were going to electrify the metal and fry her in the process. The Tesla
Troopers charged up their weapons and were about to electrify the metal when a series of
explosions rocked the ground. The Tesla troopers were dead almost instantly. Tanya
scrambled out of the pile of scrap metal and stared up at the sky in complete wonder at
the half-dozen individuals hovering above the junk heap. "Are those...Rocketeers?"
Tanya said to no one. They LOOKED like Rocketeers, but also looked like a cross
between a Flak Trooper and a Chrono Legionnaire. It was, to Tanya, a unique outfit.
Connected to the Jetpack, instead of the small-caliber machine gun on each grip there
was a larger Flak cannon. They each wore the outfit of the Chrono Legionnaire, and also
below the Flak Cannon there was a small, complicated looking device attached. "Flak
Tracks! Open fire!" the Soviet Colonel screamed. The turrets atop the Flak Tracks
swiveled to face the newcomers. "Thanks, but no thanks." The apparent leader of the
newcomers said. The devices set below Flak Cannon on either handgrip of the Jetpack
started glowing a crimson red before it started firing red beams of energy. "Attention all
shoppers, attention all shoppers! We are having a clearance sale of all Soviet flak Tracks
within a ten-foot radius!" the leader quipped. With a blinding flash, the Flak Tracks were
gone. No craters, no smelly stench or resulting smoke...just gone. Tanya hadn't ever seen
a Chrono Legionnaire remove something THAT cleanly. "Come, Miss Tanya." The
leader said, surprising her that he knew her name. "What ARE you guys?" Tanya
queried. "We da' Fuckin' Storm Eagles!" the second newcomer, an African-American,
said. "Shut up Jamal. Just call us the Storm Eagles. I'm Shane, this is Jamal, Phil, Mike,
Brian, and Zack." Shane introduced the rest of the Storm Eagles. Brian and Zack
swooped down and scooped Tanya up under her arms. They seven of them flew rapidly
south, until Tanya heard a loud, insistent beeping. "What's that?" Tanya asked.
"Apocalypse tanks, approximately 100 meters behind us. If we don't motor, we're in
deep shit." Phil said. Behind them, Tanya could glimpse several Apocalypse tanks. Shane
was busy talking on his radio, he said "1st Excalibur division, we've got Apocalypse
tanks on our tail, we could use some help." "Roger that Shane, head to zone 197." The
person on the other end of the radio said as the Storm Eagles adjusted their course to head
towards zone 197.
(what are the Excalibur's, and whose side are these Storm Eagles on? Find out next chapter!)
haven't heard of.)
Washington D.C., this proud capitol city once stood for all that was right and just
in America, but now it was a scrapheap of bombed-out buildings, twisted piles of slagged
metals, and Soviet Troops marching relentlessly throughout the city. The air was thick
with the odor of death.
In one such junkyard of slagged metals, on the corner of Eighth & I streets (the
former location of the Marine barracks) something was moving. Carefully, a dirty and
sweaty woman crawled from her hiding place beneath the remains of a 65' T-Bird. Her
name was Tanya, and she was, or so she believed, the last Allied soldier in D.C. She wore
urban camouflage clothing, a hatch work of grays, blacks, and whites. On either hip she
carried a .45 caliber Beretta, her personal weapons. In her arms she carried an AK-47,
stolen from a Soviet Conscript. [Damn! I should have at least put up a good fight when
that Conscript Squadron overran the White House, but I had been ordered to run, I follow
orders!] Tanya thought. The rumble of machinery interrupted her, and she peeked around
the junk heap to see what it was. Five Soviet Flak Tracks pulled up at the edge of the
junkyard, scarcely 30 meters from her. The rear doors opened and four Conscripts and
one Engineer exited the first four vehicles, and from the fifth Flak Track exited five Tesla
Troopers. They sat on a clear patch of concrete and started speaking rapidly in Russian,
and Tanya craned to hear better. She made her decision, and aimed her AK-47 rifle at the
nearest Conscript. She fired off a three round burst, but she wasn't used to the AK-47's
recoil and shot wide by several feet. "In there!" a Conscript shouted in Russian as
everyone jumped up to grab his or her weapon. Tanya scrambled deep into the metal junk
heap, hoping to evade the shots as they started firing madly into the scrapheap. "Check
fire! Check fire!" a new voice shouted loudly in Russian. Tanya peered out at the
newcomer, a guy who looked like the Soviet Equivalent of an American Green Beret.
[Colonel.] Something in the back of Tanya's mind told her. "Tesla Troopers! Fry her!"
the Soviet Colonel shouted. Tanya realized what he meant and cursed herself for her
stupidity, they were going to electrify the metal and fry her in the process. The Tesla
Troopers charged up their weapons and were about to electrify the metal when a series of
explosions rocked the ground. The Tesla troopers were dead almost instantly. Tanya
scrambled out of the pile of scrap metal and stared up at the sky in complete wonder at
the half-dozen individuals hovering above the junk heap. "Are those...Rocketeers?"
Tanya said to no one. They LOOKED like Rocketeers, but also looked like a cross
between a Flak Trooper and a Chrono Legionnaire. It was, to Tanya, a unique outfit.
Connected to the Jetpack, instead of the small-caliber machine gun on each grip there
was a larger Flak cannon. They each wore the outfit of the Chrono Legionnaire, and also
below the Flak Cannon there was a small, complicated looking device attached. "Flak
Tracks! Open fire!" the Soviet Colonel screamed. The turrets atop the Flak Tracks
swiveled to face the newcomers. "Thanks, but no thanks." The apparent leader of the
newcomers said. The devices set below Flak Cannon on either handgrip of the Jetpack
started glowing a crimson red before it started firing red beams of energy. "Attention all
shoppers, attention all shoppers! We are having a clearance sale of all Soviet flak Tracks
within a ten-foot radius!" the leader quipped. With a blinding flash, the Flak Tracks were
gone. No craters, no smelly stench or resulting smoke...just gone. Tanya hadn't ever seen
a Chrono Legionnaire remove something THAT cleanly. "Come, Miss Tanya." The
leader said, surprising her that he knew her name. "What ARE you guys?" Tanya
queried. "We da' Fuckin' Storm Eagles!" the second newcomer, an African-American,
said. "Shut up Jamal. Just call us the Storm Eagles. I'm Shane, this is Jamal, Phil, Mike,
Brian, and Zack." Shane introduced the rest of the Storm Eagles. Brian and Zack
swooped down and scooped Tanya up under her arms. They seven of them flew rapidly
south, until Tanya heard a loud, insistent beeping. "What's that?" Tanya asked.
"Apocalypse tanks, approximately 100 meters behind us. If we don't motor, we're in
deep shit." Phil said. Behind them, Tanya could glimpse several Apocalypse tanks. Shane
was busy talking on his radio, he said "1st Excalibur division, we've got Apocalypse
tanks on our tail, we could use some help." "Roger that Shane, head to zone 197." The
person on the other end of the radio said as the Storm Eagles adjusted their course to head
towards zone 197.
(what are the Excalibur's, and whose side are these Storm Eagles on? Find out next chapter!)