Hi guys! I'm back! As I said in the last chapter, the title is now different. It's Aim for the Heart now. Sorry it took long, but as I said in the update chapter (now deleted), schoolwork and community service required for graduation. I gotta do this again for another weekend, too. For now, though, enjoy chapter 5!
Trevor's P.O.V.
Waking up, I couldn't help but notice I was in a better mood than usual. Either it was because of the fun I had last night, or I just slept really well. I changed into my military clothes, did my routine, picked up my rifle and slung it on my back. Then, as I went out of the house, I saw Frank was already getting ready to leave. He looked behind him and excitedly waved at me.
"Hey Trevor! How'd you sleep?" he asked me.
"Pretty well!" I said.
"Glad to hear that! See you at training!" called Frank as he rode off to headquarters.
I chuckled and got on my bike, following him behind. We arrived and parked our vehicles and went inside. We immediately headed to room 2A to receive instructions for the day. I was hoping to practice sniping, as usual, but Striker Jones made us do some physical exercises instead. While I was okay with it, Frank, Summer, and Wendy groaned a bit but complied. Following Jones, he grabbed some more people aside from squad 2A, making us about 25 people total excluding him, and we went to many places to hone our skills, including foot races, weightlifting, obstacle courses, etc.
Most of the time I stayed silent, and it really didn't matter since all the noises were groans and exerts. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a porn set with all those moans. It did make me feel a bit uncomfortable. Jones even got pissed at some people, telling them to shut up along with some other stuff. To be honest, I have a really tough time deciding whether it was funny or scary. Probably funny.
"You fuckin' maggots! You whine one more time and the exercise doubles. Am I clear, ya sons o' bitches?" he would shout.
However, I ignored it and kept going. In many of the tasks, I performed average; not too bad, but also not that well. Naturally, weightlifting was my weakness with my small size. This earned me a couple shouts from Jones who pushed me to lift harder. Nothing that made me feel bad or anything, though. Then, there was one point where Jones assigned us partners. One would wear boxing gloves and the other would wear focus mitts, as the boxer punched the mitts, and they took turns swapping gear. At one moment I was punching Frank's mitts as we talked for a bit. He would ask if I was tired and wanted to swap, but if I remember correctly, I was the one out of us two that kept going the most. While we were at it, I spotted Jones suddenly grabbing his walkie-talkie and talking to someone.
"Atteeen-TION!" he suddenly shouted. "Everyone look for your gear. Invasion incoming."
"Yes sir!" we all said as we removed the gloves and mitts while running to get our weapons. The whole time I was carrying my rifle with me, but as usual, I gave it to Jones before going to our battlefield. This time it was Logs, which had an extremely long track. It was dark and secluded with a brown color spread everywhere. Along the track, a few logs with holes arched over it, which sadly obstructed some of the monkeys' line of sight, and in the dead center of the field was a small pond to deploy any aquatic towers and vehicles if necessary.
Frank got into position relatively quickly, carrying his bulky dartling gun and positioning it in front of him to ready his aim. A bunch of engineer monkeys were carrying Heli-pads and runways elsewhere on the field so Summer and Wendy could take to the skies. I just sat under a tree close to Frank ready to watch the whole thing happen.
Then it began. At first it started slowly; some red bloons, then blues, greens, etc. Most invasions were like this. The bloons usually came in ascending tiers and rarely were there fluctuations or random changes in patterns. Jones would give commands on his walkie-talkie to call over certain monkeys when the time called for it, telling them their best positions. This way, when a bloon with a special immunity came, there was always a way to counter it. Explosive firepower, frost attacks, energy projectiles, blunt projectiles, and camo detection were used in conjunction with each other to counter the invasion smoothly…until one pivotal point.
Yes, there was camo detection, but there came one wave where tight bunches of camo ceramics and pinks came in. This meant that there was a combo of extremely fast bloons and bloons that could tank many hits, all invisible to most of the monkeys currently present. This was bad news. At first, they came in "1 mississippi, 2 mississippi" intervals, but as the bunches got bigger, they slowly but surely covered more and more of the track.
I looked closely, and the situation got tenser as Striker Jones was issuing order after order. Huge beads of sweat were visible on every single monkey. I couldn't take this any longer, so I stood up and ran to Jones to make a suggestion.
"Trevor, whatever it is you wanna say, save it for after. We're busy!" Jones told me.
"Don't ninjas have an upgrade that will allow them to strip the camo off the bloons?" I asked. "We need that ASAP! I don't think we can take much more of this."
"We can't afford it, Trevor! We don't have enough money for upgrades and the bloons launched this surprise attack. We're gonna have to make the most of it without any!"
"Damn it!" I muttered to myself. I glimpsed at the track again. Bloons were getting closer and closer to the exit, despite the field's long track. Then, I looked down on my watch to see our funds: 774 monkey dollars. An idea struck me.
"But we CAN afford getting new troops and towers," I told Jones. "We have barely enough to afford a Mortar. If we aim it near the exit where we don't have many forces, we can strengthen our shield!"
"That'll deal with the ceramics, but what about the pinks? A mortar is too slow for that!"
"Just buy the mortar! I have another plan," I said as I ran over to a random super monkey. I noticed he was looking back and forth through the track but couldn't make out where to throw his darts. I slowly approached him behind and tapped his shoulder. This startled him, and when he looked back, his startled expression turned into an angry one.
"What the hell's your problem, can't you see I'm busy!?" he said. I ignored him for a moment as I walked beside him. "Hey. I'm talking to you," he would say, but I just closed my eyes. Calmly, with my photographic memory, I remembered exactly what a pink camo bloon looked like, and when I opened my eyes, despite their camouflage, I could still see them clearly.
"Throw your darts where I'm pointing," I told the super monkey as I pointed at the bloons. My finger would not stop following their every move, as if my finger was someone's eye having a medical check.
"Excuse me?" said the super monkey in a bewildered tone.
"Just do it!" I said again. "And everyone around, follow this guy's darts. That's where the pink camo bloons are going!" I called to everyone around me, who were looking at me with weirded out faces.
The super monkey reluctantly started throwing, and the monkeys heard pop sounds, signaling them to start firing as well. While the super monkey appeared indifferent, everyone else looked impressed as they kept firing. And, as if a miracle happened, we pushed back the bloons far. The mortar was doing its job well shielding the exit, and before we knew it, the wave was over.
The rest of the invasion progressed normally. I sat back down on my tree watching everything happen. Any other camo bloons that came weren't as much as a threat, which meant the worst part was over. Frank didn't ask me anything at first since he was too busy firing bullet hell at the track. A couple MOABs came, and the invasion finally came to an end. Jones congratulated everyone for their efforts, and I heard a ninja suddenly say something.
"Actually, Striker Jones," he began, "that little guy sitting under the tree helped everyone detect some camo. We probably would've let a lot of bloons past if it wasn't for him."
Hearing the ninja, I got up and walked to the crowd of troops as Jones stayed silent for a moment. After about a minute, he simply uttered, "Right." Then another minute. "Alright everyone, go back to training."
"Yes sir!" said everyone sharply with a salute shortly after. They then went their separate ways. I was about to do the same when I heard Jones say "Castle!"
I turned my head back slightly, then quietly walked over until I was right in front of him. He then sighed. In that one sigh, I felt a thunderstorm of things, as what was a couple seconds felt like agonizing hours. Was he going to congratulate me specifically? Or was he gonna scold me for interfering with the others' performance? I felt everything, to be honest. My hands flapped and fidgeted like they never fidgeted before, and never once did I make eye contact with him.
"Great job, kid," he finally said. Right after, he walked past me to supervise training.
I stayed there for a few seconds trying to process what happened. Then not only did a wave of relief wash over me, but an immense grin came to my face. I immediately ran to Frank to tell him everything, and he too felt happy for me, but mostly proud.
"Wait, so does that mean you're finally sniping?" he asked.
"I don't know! He never said anything," I eagerly said.
"Well, I dunno 'bout you, but I have an amazing feeling about this. Good times are coming right for us! Especially you, my friend."
…
Lunchtime came, and we delivered the news to the rest of the team. While Frank and Summer seemed extremely happy to hear it, Wendy was too, though she didn't show it that much. She just weakly smiled as she picked up her food and ate. We talked about some other things for a while, but because I wasn't very talkative, I just restricted myself to answering questions.
"Psst. Hey! Trevor!" Frank quickly whispered. "Look behind me. Two tables back, then one to our right."
I rolled my eyes over to where he whispered, and there I saw him. It was a super monkey. I instantly noticed it was the same one I helped by directing his projectiles. I also noticed two people sat next to him: an ice monkey and a druid. They were talking and laughing. The super monkey looked as if he was mocking someone, and then the three laughed.
"You wanna see something cool? Follow me," said Frank. He turned his head to the girls. "And you two, watch and learn." He pushed back his chair with a confident attitude, waving his hands, and as he got up, I followed suit. He went over to the super monkey's table, with a swagger walk I thought looked kinda funny.
"'ThrOW YoUr DartS whERE I'M poInTing!' Who does he think he is, talking to me like that?" the super monkey mocked as his friends followed laughing hysterically. Not gonna lie, that hurt for a second, but that swiftly faded away once I saw Frank. He placed his hand on the table quite firmly.
"Ol' Sam Hardy is back at it again. Picking on those who are better than him," Frank started. So this super monkey's name is Sam, huh?
"Cut me some slack for once, Davis! You know some of those people deserve it," said Sam. "Especially some worthless autistic kid." He looked at me with a smug, boastful face.
"Well, how about you give it a rest for once? You know you needed his help to actually be of some use in this invasion!"
"First of all, do you have anything better to do than defending your boyfriend over here? And second of all, I could've easily taken on those bloons. I'll have you know that the procedure that made me as handsome as I am now not only grants me superpowers, but also lets me use 100% of my brain. So guess what, I'm more intelligent than you two could ever HOPE to be! Way cooler than simple 'PHoTOgRAPhIC MemorY' if you ask me."
Frank chuckled, and his face had an I-got-ya-right-where-I-want-ya look. After a quick sigh, he started. "First of all, there is a HUGE and CRUCIAL difference between a boyfriend and a friend that happens to be a boy. And second of all, 100% of nothing…" Then he uttered three words while getting closer and closer to Sam's face each time. Sam was clearly getting more pissed off by the second. "…is…still…nothing."
Sam finally snapped and blasted off at the speed of light to grab Frank by the vest and slam him into the opposite wall, flipping his table over violently. "I dare you to say that again. I double-dare you! I TRIPLE-DOG-DARE YOU!" shouted Sam while gritting his teeth.
The impact looked painful, and I was visibly scared. The fidgeting started again. Frank, on the other hand, didn't appear fazed despite the impact. As he kept his smug face, he replied, "You're trash, Mr. Shit-For-Brains."
That made him snap. In an instant, Sam flew up to the ceiling and hurled Frank to the ground. Frank left a crater from the impact and struggled to get up, but as he tried, he didn't utter a single cry of pain. As Sam approached Frank clenching his fists, Frank twisted his body to sweep Sam's legs. In one swift motion, Frank used his body to pin down Sam's arms and legs. It was there I noticed his left eye was black and swollen, and blood was streaming down his face and back. Looking at Frank smile while in that condition looked like something out of a horror movie. It was scary to say the least, but I still watched attentively.
"My turn," said Frank as he placed his forearm over Sam's left arm to pin down his right arm with his own left hand. He then raised his fist and repeatedly punched Sam in the face. I counted a total of 18 punches. However, Sam then grabbed Frank's arm and twisted it, dislocating the elbow, and earning a cry of pain from Frank. In a flash, he made them both get up. As Frank held his arm groaning in pain, Sam ran his finger down his cheek and looked at it; a single blood drop was in his index finger.
"All that for a drop of blood," he cockily said. Then a lightning-quick but powerful knee to the chest. A cracking sound was heard as I winced just from watching. It seemed to happen in slow motion as I pictured his ribs getting ruptured. Frank coughed out a heap of blood, and Sam took advantage of the stun to wind up a powerful right hook to Frank's face. Yet another crack, this time more violent, and again I imagined the skull breaking. And just as Sam was about to unleash another attack, three gunshots were heard. Jones had his pistol aimed to the air, and as he put it away in his pocket, he walked to the pair.
"That's fucking enough!" he shouted. "How do we expect to protect the people from bloons if you two maggots, sons o' bitches, keep fighting each other!? Un-fucking-believable! You two will stay here longer than everyone else to do THREE TIMES as much training! Understood!?" He looked at Frank. "Davis, Castle, you two are coming with me. We gotta get you fixed." Jones put his arm around Frank to drag him. I followed behind.
"Hey…weren't we fighting? Huh?" Frank hollered at Sam.
"I swear, one day I'll take out your guts by your ass!" Sam hollered back.
"Next time I see you, you better have grown a pair of balls!" Frank finished as he managed to pull off a middle finger with his good hand.
"Would it kill you to shut up for ONE FUCKIN' SECOND!?" Jones shouted again.
"Yes sir," Frank said.
The whole time I was analyzing Frank's injuries. My eyes turned into an X-Ray (figuratively, of course) as I noticed a few signs.
"Your ribcage is deeply fractured," I began. "Your right elbow is dislocated. And you're jaw might be broken on one side! How is it you're not in more pain?"
"Not gonna lie, dude, it hurts like hell. But anything to put that bastard in his place. No one here deserves to have their contribution belittled."
I looked straight ahead and pondered as I walked. That fight was sure as hell scary. Another reminder of the harsh conditions of working here. I never watched two people have a fist fight before, let alone this violently, but during my training with Captain Churchill, he made it very clear that I should expect these things to happen. But then those words Frank said really stuck to me. Someone…finally appreciated what I did to help! Who cares if it wasn't Striker Jones at first, this moves me one step forward. One thing is clear, though.
Note to self: steer clear from Sam.
…
We were in the infirmary. Frank was sitting down on a bed, I stood beside him, and Jones was leaning his back against the wall. An old wizard monkey came in and thoroughly inspected Frank's injuries. Frank moaned and winced, cursing a bit as the wizard grabbed the most painful parts. When he let go, he finally began healing.
He started by running his hand across Frank's bloodied face with one hand. With the other, he performed a wave while softly chanting "Vulnera…Sanentur. Vulnera…Sanentur. Vulnera…Sanentur." With each incantation, the waving hand glowed and the blood and wounds faded away. He then ran his hand across Frank's nape, while waving the other over his back, chanting again "Vulnera…Sanentur. Vulnera…Sanentur. Vulnera…Sanentur."
"The gashes and blood are gone," the wizard said. "Now it's time for the broken bones."
He ran his hand over Frank's chest and held the other up. He then cleared his throat and, while snapping his fingers, sharply said "Costaes…Emendo!" A mild flash emerged from the snap and another flash emerged from Frank's ribs. He repeated this action with Frank's elbow. "Articulus…Emendo!" The same happened. He did this one final time for Frank's skull. "Caput…Emendo!" Then, to finish it off, the wizard placed two fingers on Frank's black eye, and snapped his fingers with the other while saying, "Nigrum…Discessem!"
After all this healing, Frank moved his arm, flexing it back and forth. He also touched his face, chest, back, and closed eye.
"Good as new," he said as he jumped off the bed.
"Good," said Jones. "Now you two get back to training."
"…Yes sir!" we both said in unison.
…
Remember how I said my contribution in the last invasion was one step forward for me? It was a BIG one.
The next day, after the whole incident where Frank was beaten to a pulp defending me from Sam, we started our usual training again. This time we were able to do target practice, so I was naturally delighted when I heard. Frank and I decided to practice in our own firing range next to room 2A, but not before I asked him how he felt after the beating. He said he was fine, in fact better than before, as if the magic healing his injuries somehow empowered him as well, but he also said it may just be his imagination. Imagination or not, magic is really something interesting!
We both chose separate targets. Frank carried his heavy dartling gun and started unleashing his barrage. His target was a model of a BFB that would regenerate its layers pretty fast, so he took it upon himself to see if he can pop it. So far, as much as he shot, once reached a certain layer, the BFB model wouldn't budge. I just decided to shoot some traditional targets that you would see in a shooting range. In the middle of the whole thing, however, we both received calls from Striker Jones to go to the X Factor battlefield. We responded, reloaded, and quickly ran to the site.
Jones was waiting for us, and I stayed behind for a moment to give him my gun, but…
"Not this time," said Jones. Then a pause. "Show me what ya got."
"Wait…really!?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Now go!"
I replied with a quick "Yes sir!" and ran to the battlefield. Once again, a storm of emotions came over me, but mostly happy ones. I did it! Finally, after all this time, I would snipe in a real invasion! I ran even faster than before, and when I finally arrived, I…my expression turned from happy to scared.
I couldn't believe my eyes. There were 50 times more troops than normal. Projectiles were being thrown EVERYWHERE, left, right, and center! A whole bunch of MOABs, BFBs, ZOMGs, the works were traveling the track in a higher speed than normal. Any other gap was filled with a smaller bloon, usually a fortified camo regrow ceramic, or maybe a camo lead, pretty much everything. Bombs and bullets were deafening, as I stood there, frozen. I didn't know what to do. What should I shoot, the ZOMG or the DDT? I didn't even know! I couldn't move even if I tried, and all I did was stay shaky as I had the expression of a young woman watching a splatter horror film.
The whole time, monkeys were telling me to wake up and start shooting. I could barely make out what they were saying, because all I could hear was bombs, shooting, and ringing sounds. After a few minutes, though, the wave calmed down. I was still frozen. Then, at the corner of my eye, I noticed something. A MOAB got past us all! I quickly turned around, and panicking, I grabbed my gun. Even still, my aim was shaky as hell, and I couldn't fire a single shot. And just as the MOAB was going to enter the city, civilians looking with a horrified face, I saw through my scope a giant rocket, flying towards the MOAB and exploding it to smithereens with one hit. Lowering the rifle, my hands still shaking, I slowly turned my head back to see Striker Jones, the rocket launcher on his shoulder spewing smoke.
There was a deafening silence, and after what looked like minutes, I just ran away. What kind of surprised me was that I didn't hear Jones or anyone telling me to stop. Or maybe I was just so scared I didn't care what anyone said. Regardless, I kept running and running, running to Captain Churchill. He was outside the headquarters taking his tank out for a spin. Doing the only thing I could think of to grab his attention, I stood in front of its path throwing my arms up. A scream was heard from inside, and Churchill's head popped up.
"Kid, what were you thinking!?" said Churchill. "I could've run you over!"
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I couldn't do it," I repeatedly said while pacing back and forth. Churchill's expression changed from frightened to concerned as he jumped off the tank and came close to me.
"Hey, hey. Come with me," he said as we went inside headquarters and walked along the hallways. "What happened?"
"I…I…" I said stuttering, my voice quivering, too. But then my voice steadied. "Striker Jones let me snipe."
"But that's good! Wasn't that your dream? You should be happy about it!"
"No! I froze!" I finally shouted. "There was…too much going on. Too many projectiles, too many bloons. TOO MUCH!"
"Okay, okay! Calm down. It's over now. It's over." he said.
"Castle!" I heard. Instantly recognizing Striker Jones's voice, my body froze once again.
"Go, he's calling you. Don't worry, I'll talk to him after. From what I understand, you had to snipe in a pretty intense invasion. A recruit this new cannot take part in fending off invasions this intense. It's the law. So don't worry, go knowing you didn't do anything wrong." A pause, then I ran to room 2A where I heard the voice. "And hey!"
I stopped and turned around. "Good luck!" Churchill wished.
Smiling, I thanked him and kept running.
…
I was finally face to face with Jones, ready for whatever he would tell me. I expected a scolding, but I instead had a shocking surprise.
"Just like I expected," he said with a calm voice.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"It all went according to plan." He began walking around the room. "You see, autism, down syndrome, or any disorder is no excuse or exception for combat performance, and I needed to make that message as clear as possible. When bloons invade, they're like killing machines, terminators, ruthless killers that won't stop at anything to destroy our civilization. It's our job to fend them off, and the only way to fight an emotionless threat…is to become one." A short pause. "There is a rule that prevents us from letting new soldiers (less than a year in service) participate in invasions this intense, a level 5. This is to prevent risk of psychological trauma that will hinder future combat performance. However, to deliver my message, I needed to take that risk, and break that rule just once."
He stopped and looked sternly at me.
"Listen, Castle. You're a good soldier. You have abilities no one can ever hope to have, and what you did with the pink and ceramic camo bloons proved to me that it would be a waste not to let you fight. Nevertheless, I needed to let you participate so you would freeze, and that way it would sink into your head what I DON'T want to see. Invasions that go on for this long are rare, but they're not impossible, and I want you to be prepared for that, autistic or not."
"You…you risked civilians' lives. Why? Why would you do that?"
"That was part of the message. War is not a playground. It's the closest you will get to hell while alive. It hardens the heart. It's not fun and games. It's pure violence."
Another pause.
"Anyway, now that my plan worked, it's time for my final verdict. I'll still let you snipe, but when a BFB comes in, you will stop at once. You will head back to this room until I tell you the invasion is over. Understood?"
"…Yes sir."
"Good. Now get some rest and go eat some food. I don't think there will be any more invasions today," he said before getting out of the room, leaving me all by my lonesome to sit down and ponder about what he just said to me.
…
I needed to clear my mind after the stressful day I had, so what better to do than tinkering around with my weapons? I made some more modifications to the Desert Eagles I modded before. In the end, to settle the recoil problem, I had to open some tiny holes in the rears of the barrels. This would make some of the gas exit out the back. The holes weren't too small (there would be no effect) nor too big (too much gas released could enter my eyes and cause damage).
During the firing test, there was indeed no recoil. Targets caught fire easily, the rate of fire was blazingly fast, and emptying both magazines fully took about 11 seconds total. Happy with the results, I gazed at the beauty of the creations I put over 100 hours of work into. Then, I had a realization, and said:
"Aura and Argent." A smirk came on my face while I flipped the guns and inserted them in the holsters on my hips.
…
The next day I let the rest of the team in on the news. They were all pretty happy to hear it, especially Frank. However, our little celebration was cut short by Striker Jones throwing the door open.
"Yet another invasion! You know the drill."
"Yes sir!"
Remembering what Jones told me last time, I already had my weapons ready. I was the last one to exit the room because Jones stopped me for a second to tell me not to worry. It wasn't gonna be as intense as last time from the looks of it. More confident than ever, I ran to the site: Monkey Meadow once again. Thankfully, a simple place for my first time professionally. Everyone got into position. I stayed close to the trees near the exit, next to Frank. Then I laid my chest on the ground, and the invasion commenced.
At first it was simple and easy. It was only our squad on the field, but Summer and Wendy were taking out the first bloons no problem while soaring the skies. Frank and I stayed still and attentive, saving our ammo for later. Once a mix of green and yellow bloons came, I started shooting. Beginning with single shots, I targeted the strongest ones to make them travel slower. As more of them at higher levels entered, more troops were summoned to compensate. I was also given upgrades to my rifle such as .50 caliber rounds and a better scope, while switching to burst fire to keep up with the pace. Frank didn't do anything until late in the battle when things became fiercer.
It was around this time bloons decided to become more unpredictable. Usually, they just ride the track in one way, but there are times that they will change course for other things, whether it's to perform surprise and flank attacks, retreat, or in the case of regrow bloons, heal up. The former was a particularly effective tactic, so we countered by having two or three troops close to each other to have extra pairs of eyes.
In one surprise attack, Frank and I both were 100% focused in one direction while shooting our targets. Occasionally I looked around me to see if there were any threats nearby, and boy I'm glad I did! Noticing a lead bloon getting closer to Frank's left side, I put down my rifle, grabbed my pistols, aimed them behind my back, and showered the lead bloon with incendiary bullets until it burned to ash. Without stopping his fire, Frank turned his head back to see the pile of black ash behind him on his left.
"Bloody hell!" he chuckled with an amazed expression.
"Thanks. Now keep firing. We're not done yet!" I said switching back to my rifle.
This happened a couple more times, though they weren't all necessarily surprise attacks. I just did my best to cover most of the track with my rifle. If bloons got too close to the exit, I just rapid fired with my pistols while Frank kept his dartling gun (now firing buckshot) in the same direction. I also applied my savant skills as much as possible. Every second, I pictured mathematical operations and graphs beside the sniper's scope. The night before, I also took some time to review and memorize the weak points of bloons with a red bloon equivalent of 10 or more. Knowing this, I was able to shoot weak points to get rid of layers underneath, making the track have a lot less bloons. The same happened for MOABs. This earned a surprised expression from the monkeys I was able to spot. Unbeknownst to them, I was the one behind it.
In the end, not even one got past us. Right after the usual congrats, a young witch monkey spoke up.
"Sir, correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like there were less bloons than normal this time," she began. "As if, when they entered the track, they were numerous, but it's like they drastically decreased in numbers out of nowhere. We weren't doing anything different, right guys?"
Everyone started talking to each other. Then Striker Jones broke the talking.
"I'm pretty sure I know who that was," he said while staring at me. I was still sitting beneath the tree, next to Frank. Everyone turned around to see me. Instantly feeling anxious, I prepared for the worst. Even Frank was looking at me surprised. Then I heard slow clapping. It was that same witch.
"Cool!" she said as she picked up the pace. Then another monkey started clapping alongside her. Then another. And soon it turned into a round of applause while I stood up, my worried face turning into the smile of a kid getting exactly what he wanted for Christmas. For a second I spotted Sam with his arms crossed appearing indifferent, possibly even indignant, but I didn't care. I just wanted to relish the moment. Then we headed back.
"Whoa, that is insane, dude!" said Frank. "I mean, I knew you were a savant, but this is mind-blowing! How did you do that?"
"It's simple, really. For years I've been studying all bloons that ever invaded. I looked at their anatomy, where to strike for them to release the most air, and their weak spots to get rid of their children."
"Okay, that last one sounds savage," he said as he laughed. "But even still, how are you so accurate with your shots? Like, those weak points must be so minute! How do you manage to hit them every time?"
"That's also simple. I just calculate the trajectory of the bullets as I go. Depending on the caliber of the gun and bullets I adjust my calculations accordingly. Then I make imaginary graphs in my head, all the while considering where the wind is hitting me. I also must use initial and final velocity, displacement, angles, etc. Then more calculations, it's all just math and physics."
He then started laughing hysterically. "Oh, man. If I didn't know any better, I'd call you a showoff. You're not like that, though. You'll see, you will be an extremely valuable soldier. By the way, those guns you switched to every time bloons got close to us, what are they? They don't look like something you would buy at a regular arms dealership."
"Oh, these?" I said as I took them out of the holsters. "They are Desert Eagle Mark XIXs. I extensively modified them with many features. Gunsmithing is my second favorite hobby behind target practice. I added double barrels, bigger magazines, incendiary ammo, and muzzle brakes. I also punched holes behind them to get rid of recoil and gave them a paint job. I call them...Aura and Argent. The Latin names for gold and silver." I then put them back in their places.
"Cool names. They look badass, too! Wait, so does that mean you can repair my dartling gun if it starts failing?"
"Sure! Just give it to me and I'll see what I can do!"
"Amazing!"
After that talk, only one thing was on my mind as my smile never left my face.
YES! It's finally happening. I'm keeping my promise! I'm still far away, but I'm getting there!
…
3rd P.O.V.
Whatever time it was, it didn't matter. In this swamp, it was always nighttime.
Bloons of all diverse types and colors roamed around this place. A dark swamp where it constantly rained, and the wind was strong. However, bloons only cared about three activities, getting what they need to kill monkeys (mostly air and layers), training to kill monkeys, and heading to the battlefield to kill monkeys.
Kill. It was all they lived by. Even going as far as self-destructing if it meant taking at least one life.
There was a big place that looked like a haunted house in this swamp. The pools and lakes closer to it were acid instead of murky water. Two MOABs were entering the house. When they did, they spotted a huge red staircase with gold linings. They always wondered why there were steps when they could just float over it. Shaking the thought off them, however, they ascended up to the next floor, opening a door with their bodies. This led to an extremely dark room, only dimly lit by the acid pools on each side of a black walkway. On they reached the end of the walkway, they started speaking. They were face to face with two bloons that were ten times bigger than them, and they could barely make out their purple color with how dark it was.
"Master, we're here," one of the MOABs said.
The giant bloons didn't say a word.
"Good. Fire away now," a voice said. It was rough and monstrous, and it talked painfully slowly. "Surely this invasion spree must have been of some use."
"Yes. We learned of a new soldier. One unlike anything we've ever seen before," said the other MOAB. They alternated speaking.
"Is he a hero?"
"He's not classified as such."
"Does he have any special powers or anything of the sort?"
"No, he's a sniper monkey. But…he is exceptional at his role. He could have easily held his own with the first 25 waves of a normal invasion. But here's the kicker, according to what we gathered from reconnaissance, he's autistic!"
"…Interesting. And…what's his name?" A long silence followed, broken after what seemed like minutes.
"Trevor…Castle, master."
"Gooood. That's enough. You're dismissed."
"Yes master," both MOABs said at once. They turned around and flied away from the room, leaving the voice to ponder.
"So…that whiny bitch is following his pathetic brother's footsteps. Not what I was expecting, but I shall adapt accordingly." He finished with a sinister and again, painfully slow and creepy laugh.
Jesus Christ, FINALLY! Ugh, I've been waiting SO LONG to have some free time to sit down and write! And my God, this chapter was long. I was considering splitting it in two parts. Then again, a certain chapter from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was over 7000 words long, so meh. It's alright. It's not like you have to read this whole thing in one sitting.
Anyway, so much to unpack here! We got antagonists now! This story desperately needed something like that. One of them was revealed, and I gotta say, that scene was FUN AS HELL to write! Sorry though, Frank! Sorry I made ya go through that. You roasted him good though! Can you please serve that to me with some BBQ sauce? Maybe you could get the rest of squad 2A so we can all feast on some roastbeef!
And yassss! Trevor is finally doing it! But ohhh boy, don't think this is the end. This is just the tip of the iceberg (okay, maybe not the tip cause I don't know if I'll make this Lord of the Rings long, but it's still just the beginning!) Next chapter will have a very small timeskip and I'll finally start what I wanted to start since day 1. Stay tuned for that!
Above all, thanks for reading. Thanks for the follows and favs, and SUPER SPECIAL THANKS for making this story reach 100 views. This shows how interested you are despite my slow updating. You guys rock! Until next time, have yourselves a GODDAMN good one!