Resistance Log: Dodge Dagger
May 10, 2045
I do not own ratchet and clank insomniac games does
The first chapter of How to kill a dictator (written by RatchetKicksAss44) me and him will be collaborating on this, I hope you like it.
Man, are we in some shit. It used to be the "land of the free." I've taken the liberty of naming it the "land of the fucked." We used one of the greatest nations in the world, rising high over everybody else. Then we wake up one day and find ourselves in this shithole. And to think this started with the British.
It all started in 2037. The President of the United States made a public speech that was being televised to the whole world. "We may as well face the facts," he said. "America is addicted to oil, and so are all other world powers. We Americans simply cannot afford to simply stand idly by as our lifeblood is drained from this earth forever. We must take action to secure our future." The minute he said those words on international TV, the world was thrown into an apocalypse. The President had uttered the truth about every country out there: oil was the only scarce resource that was used daily by billions of people. World powers rushed to secure every oil site they possibly could. Russia and America were fighting over ridiculously small amounts of oil in Afghanistan or Bhutan or the Czech Republic. Then the unthinkable happened: our President was assassinated. Nobody knows how or why. The FBI and the CIA were going to look into it and see if they could find out, but they were the next targets. The whole government was falling. The President, the FBI, the border patrol and the military were all targets. America was fucked unless something changed. Then, something did change.
One man, under the alias of Prometheus, took his chance. See, even though almost all of America's infrastructure had been obliterated, this Prometheus guy had shit up his sleeve like he was a fucking full-time magician. He had gathered loyal followers and support from the people of America, so no one said anything when he started to rescue America from the brink. Prometheus was a miracle man. Leading America up out of hell was something that had never been done before at this level. Prometheus was a national hero. America was restored to its full glory. Prometheus rebuilt everything that had been damaged by the war. Oil was no longer a worry for the people. America had peaked under his command. But then his command got out of control.
Prometheus started to get a bit cocky. Sure, we had won World War 3, but he wanted to be in control of pretty much everything worth being in control of. He was starting conflicts with other countries. Eventually, he tried to invade London. All able-bodied men, no matter their age, were drafted for the battle of London. But I wasn't full of enough bullshit to lay down and take orders from this homicidal fuckwad. If he was gonna make England his bitch, I wasn't going to be part of it. I wasn't the only one who felt this way. My father, Mike, was also drafted. We both refused. That's when it got really shitty.
In 2039, Prometheus sent his militia to our doorstep, trying to arrest us. When they came, I was home alone. I was sixteen at the time, and I had a weapons permit. I have to say, that was the first time I ever used my pistol. It certainly wasn't the last. After I killed both of the soldiers on our doorstep, I grabbed all of their equipment, including guns, knives, grenades, medical supplies, and rations. I called my dad, telling him only this: "We've been made. I've gathered what we'll need. Get over here now." I thought we'd be the only two rebels in America. We were wrong.
We had both fallen asleep in our car one night when I woke up. Someone was banging on the window. I pulled out my pistol and rolled the window down. Two men were looking at me. They wanted me to come with them, my dad too. I shook him awake. He agreed. They didn't look like part of Prometheus's militia. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. The men led us to an old underground tunnel system. It was one of the weirdest thing I had ever seen. There were people in a dress code, but they looked like rebels. The two men who had led us here said, "This is the Resistance. Welcome." I've been fighting ever since.
After we had seen the sights of the underground resistance, well, we were instantly given a role: runners. We had to get supplies from different checkpoints using standard weapons. I loved the thrill of it all. Especially shooting stuff. Then, after a few years of that, we moved up in the Resistance. The leader had made me and my dad his right-hand men. Don't ask why, cause I have no idea. But I'm sure as hell not complaining. Better weapons, more respect, and more kills than the regular footsoldiers. I loved shooting Prometheus's dickheads. Of course, it wouldn't stay that way for long. You see, Prometheus was obsessed with science fiction. He became convinced that aliens were real. When word reached the ears of the Resistance, we feared invasion from other worlds. Then shit got really real.
Prometheus had constructed a satellite array that was broadcasting a 24/7 distress signal. Keep in mind this was within six months of my and my father's promotion, all of these events. We kept trying to destroy his satellites. There was only one survivor per attack. We sent out five separate attacks with one hundred men each. Do the math. Only five survived. Eventually, we heeded the fifth warning. If we had tried again, our losses would have been too great. We were still paranoid about aliens. No rest for the weary, I guess. We had to take precautions for alien invasion: ray shields, enhanced weapons, and better armor. And we did a hell of a good job, too. We thought we were ready for anything. But when a solitary alien spaceship landed in our fucking backyard, everything changed...
There you have it, the first chapter of How to kill a dictator. I hope you like it, send us some reviews (Evil Ratchet Out!).