Right, lads...and lasses. This is the last chapter before the bit before the bit before the climax. That mean we're maybe, what, 2.5/6 of the way through. Gimme five!

Review replies;

TweenisodeOrange: Well, Freakshow isn't a Nazi, but his dad was. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

unknown20troper: Glad you liked 'em! Thanks for reading!

OddAuthor: I'm glad you liked the puns - I thought they were a bit cheesy, myself. Thanks very much!

BANZAC: That's because Harker is a pompous idiot. Thanks for the review!


Chapter Six: The Last Day

Despite it being around five-thirty in the morning, the capital of Great Britain was already becoming busy with traffic. In a small, rudimentary office overlooking the River Thames, Colonel Atkinson and Lieutenant Bishop looked outside the window as the first rays of sunlight began to shine over the London cityscape.

"Morning," mused Atkinson, "Today's the day."

"It is," nodded Bishop, "By tomorrow, we'll either be dead or victorious."

"Indeed," agreed Atkinson, "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

There was a long silence.

"Alright," said Atkinson, eventually, "I'll be making a decoy meeting with Harker and the Prime Minister on the East End during the day. You'll be providing overwatch with a squad of the 33rd Regiment."

"Understood, sir, we won't let you down," grinned Bishop.

"I bloody well hope not," replied Atkinson, grimly.

The sun peaked over the buildings on the other side of the Thames, and the sunlight poured into the room.


Chester McBadbat was sleeping under a tree in the Neutron's backyard as the sun rose over the distant horizon.

"Rise and shine, Chester."

Chester opened a sleepy eye, and found Molly standing over him, arms crossed.

"What time is it?" demanded Chester, groggily.

"Five thirty," replied Valerie, who was to the side of Jimmy's clubhouse, "Time to start training."

"Training?"

Vlad Masters stepped out of the clubhouse, chuckling.

"This is your last day on Earth, and you're worried about training?" he sniggered, "Well, congratulations, you've officially grown up."

Chester shot the older man a glare.

The sun peeked over the mountains, covering the backyard in golden light.

"Look at all this," observed Vlad, "The sun, the sky, our entire planet – this could be the last time you ever see it. Enjoy it while it lasts."

He shook his head, and walked back inside.

"What a pri-" began Chester.

"He's right," nodded Valerie, sombrely, "This could be the last day of our lives. We should savour it."

Molly and Chester both glared at her.

"Well, I'm going to savour it," decided Valerie, "I'll see you tonight – I'm going back to sleep for a few hours."

Valerie turned around and walked back into the clubhouse.

Chester rolled his eyes.


Timmy blinked as he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling the warming water around his skin. It was a nice feeling, really – but Timmy didn't dwell on it.

He began to walk back to Spongebob's guest room (yes, he had one), when his attention was caught to the window.

The entire sky was a reddish-yellow, with a small, shimmering golden orb peaking over the horizon. The entire town of Bikini Bottom was covered in the early morning rays of sunlight. It was peaceful.

"Morning, Timmy!"

Timmy turned around to find Spongebob, already fully dressed and ready for his day.

"You're up at five thirty?" quizzed Timmy.

"Yep," nodded Spongebob, "I'm usually up at this hour for work! Anyway, what're you looking at?"

Timmy glanced out the window.

"Meh, nothing," he shrugged at last, "Nothing at all."

He pushed nagging thoughts on his own existence to the back of his head and headed down to the guest room.


Bishop looked at his watch. It read 8:30. This meant Atkinson and Harker would be meeting with the Prime Minister, and that the troops from the 33rd were in place.

"It's Showtime," he called over the radio.

He looked over the warehouse they would be meeting in. It didn't look like a place to meet with a world leader – but then, this wasn't an official meeting. Atkinson and Harker were already entering, walking towards the man who had already arrived.

Prime Minister Percy James stood in the warehouse, flanked by two suited bodyguards. He didn't look pleased, his hazel eyes narrowed at the other two men as he adjusted his tie.

"Colonel," he growled, "Please excuse the lack of formalities, but what do you want?"

"I come from the Bundeswehr," replied Atkinson, coolly.

"Don't play dumb with me, Atkinson," snapped James, "I know you're here for the bloody Cave. British Intelligence aren't complete idiots, you know."

"That's a surprise," grumbled Atkinson.

"State your business, or get out," demanded James.

"Fine," nodded Atkinson, "I'm sure you're aware of Cyclops?"

"It's a UN mandate," scoffed James, "Great Britain has just as much control of it as the United States…"

"Which equals to 'sod all', Mr. Prime Minister," interrupted Atkinson, "This isn't a matter of NATO or the UN anymore. Cyclops is controlled by Showsenhower and F.I.N.A.L., and I doubt they care for Washington, never mind you."

Bishop heard crackling from his radio.

"This is Sergeant Flint, just giving you the heads up that we're shifting to the observation office."

"Roger that," replied Bishop, "We'll keep watch until you shift."


Sergeant Flint's contingent of troops numbered eight men – Corporals Damon and Lawrence, and Privates Harris, Crawford, Jennings, Webber and Carter. At this point they were heading through the small hallways of the offices behind the warehouse.

"Sir, I heard movement," observed Corporal Lawrence.

"Understood," nodded Sergeant Flint, "Crawford, Webber, you're on point."

"Yes sir," Crawford and Webber answered.

The two soldiers moved around a corner, making as little noise as possible.

For a few minutes, Flint waited for them to report back in, before getting out his radio.

"Crawford, come in," he ordered.

There was no reply.

"All right, Jennings, cover our rear, we're moving upstairs."

"Roger that," nodded Jennings.

Leaving Jennings behind, the remaining members of the squad made their way up the stairwell, arriving at their floor. There, they were quickly taken aback.

Crawford and Webber lay against the wall, heavy cuts – obviously made by a blade – spread across their chests and heads.

"Oh my god," gasped Private Carter.

"Jennings," radioed Flint, "Crawford and Webber are down, get up here."

A short pause – but no reply.

"Crap, I think they got Jennings as well," whispered Flint, "OK, we're sticking together, no sound, hand signals only until contact."

The remains of the squad scurried up the hallway, past several eerily empty offices.

Then there was a bang, and both Harris and Lawrence went down. Flint turned around, and saw a soldier standing in a doorway, a revolver in his hands – and two holes in the heads of his soldiers.

"Contact!" he yelled.

A door at the end of the hallway was kicked open, and a grinning trooper – warning a F.I.N.A.L. uniform, Flint noticed – fired a burst from his gun. Damon fell onto his back, taking the full burst into his stomach. The sound of another door kicked open filled the corridor, as yet another F.I.N.A.L. soldier broke from the stairwell, a bayoneted rifle in his hand.

"Keep the private alive," snapped the man who had shot Damon, "The officer is of no use to the Elite!"

"What…who the hell are you?" demanded Flint.

"Group 47, comrade," replied the man, "Now…Dosvidanya."

He fired another burst.


"Flint, any word on the shift?" asked Bishop, calling into his radio.

"Got nothing over here, sir," radioed Gavin.

"I don't like this," muttered Bishop, "It can't take ten minutes to shift one floor."

"Maybe they're just incredibly incompetent?" mused Rourke.

"The PM wouldn't surround himself with incompetents," replied Bishop, "I think we're dealing with spec ops."

He glanced back down to the meeting.

"…you're a madman, Atkinson!" barked the Prime Minister, "F.I.N.A.L. aren't the bloody SS, they're a legitimate United Nations force!"

"Maybe you should have looked at what you were signing, then!" growled Atkinson.

"Enough! I'm sick of this!" snapped James, "I don't care what you think, Colonel, but as long as I'm Prime Minister we will not be-"

BOOM!

A thunderous crack filled the warehouse, causing the Prime Minister to let out a high pitched shriek and dive to the ground.

Almost immediately, Sabre Team responded. Aiming his Stinger missile launcher, Rourke fired a rocket at the observation office. The rocket made direct contact, and the office exploded.

Seeing a silhouette of a man running from the wrecked office, Gavin fired a single shot from his rifle. With a loud bang, the silhouette fell to the ground.

Running down the catwalk towards the office, Bishop ducked under a hole in the wall and leant over the dead man…

…at which point the dead man lifted his arm and attempted to throttle him.

Gasping for breath, Bishop booted the man's face, before freeing himself from the stranglehold. Seizing his chance, the man uppercut the Lieutenant, knocking him to the ground.

"We will meet again, tovarish," the man warned.

He climbed to his feet and ran from the room, ignoring a large wound in his right arm.

Shaking his head, Bishop gazed at the spot where the man once lay as Atkinson, Harker and Prime Minister James ran up.

"He left his dog tags," he breathed.

Atkinson picked up the tags and read them out.

"Team Leader Avtomat Kalashnikov, Serial Number 09864, Group 47, F.I.N.A.L."

"F.I.N.A.L." murmured James, "By god…F.I.N.A.L. just tried to kill me…"

"Actually, I believe that shot was aimed at me," shrugged Atkinson, matter-of-factly.

James' face turned to a scowl.

"Alright then, Colonel, I believe you," he growled, "That doesn't mean I'm giving you military assets without the support of the House."

"I intend to ask for an executive solution," grinned Atkinson.

"Good luck trying," snapped James, "I'm not budging."

He marched from the room, muttering to himself.

"Looks like we just met AK," grinned Bishop, "Think we'll see him on Cyclops."

"Almost certainly," nodded Atkinson.

"Well, I'm looking forward to the rematch," said Bishop, confidently, "Should be pretty good."

He chuckled to himself as he walked away.


Clockwork watched the whole day from his castle, deep in the Ghost Zone.

He watched as Chester and Molly trained, their faces set like stone. By now, they had even gone so far as to train in firearms, something that made Clockwork somewhat sad. In war, innocence was first casualty.

He watched Valerie, Tucker, Sanjay, Ember, Skulker and Technus hang around the Candy Bar, Skulker terrifying practically everyone with his appearance. Around three thirty, they were joined by Carl, Cindy and Libby, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing minigolf. Clockwork had grinned at the image of the giant behemoth known as Skulker trying to gently putt a golf ball.

He watched as Spongebob led his newly acquired friends across Bikini Bottom, introducing them to practically everybody (they ran into Squidward six times). He had then taken them (and Patrick) to Jellyfish Fields for the afternoon. At this, Clockwork allowed himself an open chuckle, both at Jazz's poor attempts to jellyfish to Sheen's newfound talent in it. He also noted that Norm, despite looking bored on the outside, was actually quite enjoying himself.

He watched Sabre Team being allowed an afternoon to London. They looked almost odd in civilian clothing, sitting in a local fast food outlet and just talking like normal people. There were a few sullen mentions of the deceased Sergeants Baker and Morrissey, but for the most part, they were without a care in the world.

Clockwork then thought to the evening that awaited them.

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Everything is as it should be," he assured himself, "Everything is as it should be…"

He said no more that day.