Chapter 3: The End of the War

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the "Bloons Tower Defense" series, which was developed by the site "Ninja Kiwi." All credit for the game concept goes to them, and I absolutely do not intend to infringe any of their copyright rights.

Colonel Aaron scratched his red beard thoughtfully. With his clock-precision fingers, he began to check the machines- the hardy diamond studded drill, the world's last missile launcher, and most important, the bloontonium detector, which emitted a dull grey glow.

"Colonel, what in the world are you doing?" the General laughed heartily. He was a man in the fifties and plump, but that didn't do anything to make him any less intimidating. Capable of barking out an order that could make your ears bleed or mercilessly slaughtering any traitor; the General was a loaded machine gun with two arms and two spindly bird-like legs.

Aaron didn't know his name, but some called him a Ninja.

"Well, say there's a bloon that could still pose the threat to the remaining population of humanity we're hiding, so-" but Aaron was sharply interrupted by the General's next outburst.

"SILENCE! The bloons have relented. We saw the BFBs fly off as soon as we fled underground. For all they know, for future generations to come, we'll still be cowering in the Earth so they can never attack us again! We may not have won the war, but we know it's over!" the General bellowed exasperatedly, pounding the control panel with each phrase he uttered.

"Yes sir." Aaron muttered. He continued with his work of providing the necessities to the people underground. Families broken apart by the bloon onslaught, shivering violently in the dark coal mines in the Appalachia. Aaron had visited the coal mines and was taken aback by how the darkness seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air. Yes, there were a few dimly lit bulbs lighting up the living spaces, but Aaron knew it would be horrifying to curl up and hide down there. He was now sitting in a brightly lit control room, feeling rather guilty.

Ah, yes, the great hiding of 2041. The Yellowstone eruption had belched out one little red bloon in 2027 that began to multiply rapidly. The astounded scientists at the sight were quickly slaughtered as the bloons scattered. Thus, this started the 14-year long Bloon War, or as some people may call it, World War B. Now, the military organized a major concealment that would theoretically preserve the human population. It worked. Now, the dishevelled men in this control room were wrapping up, preparing to live permanently in the mines itself, where they'd be out of harm's way. Aaron was so anxious; he resisted the urge to vomit more than a few times.

The bloontonium detector glowed red. Aaron widened his eyes in horror.

"General, look!" he urged, "There's another bloon under Lake Michigan! It'll be like Yellowstone! Another war! Another war!" The words tumbled out of the wide-eyed Colonel so fast, he wasn't even sure if the General had heard him properly.

"Eh?" the General's furious outburst was so imminent; Aaron wanted to cower in the mines himself.

Aaron's voice shook, "Well, shouldn't we finish it off before it multiplies?"

But instead of bursting into another furious onslaught, the General one again laughed heartily. This time, you could really see the corners of his mouth lift, the lines moving in waves from his mouth. He really thought Aaron was going berserk. He slapped the Colonel on the back.

"Look, the water's been saturating our primitive detectors. We saw that with our Bay of Mexico bloontonium detector. It kept showing us that there were swarms of bloons like wasps, but when we came there, not a rubbery beast in sight! See, the water breaks it down! Short circuits it… logic- my dear Colonel!" the General chuckled with glee.

"But that was saltwater… we've seen the effects of salt dripping into the detectors during our tests, sir!" Aaron protested. He knew he was pulling at strings now.

The General just shook his head with distaste and walked away, gazing intently at the monitors.

While his back was turned, Aaron messily scribbled on a soiled piece of scrap paper, put in a petite, luminous egg, shoved it in some tumbleweed, and let it fly through the wind. Westwards.

You're our only chance, thought Aaron mournfully.

As an afterthought, Aaron crossed over to the tangled machine in the corner of the room, copper and gold wires sticking grotesquely out of it. It read "Communicate with the Future (EXPERIMENTAL)."

With a tentative, shuddering finger, Aaron pressed the waxy yellow button.

Years into the future, Selo's phone rang.