The 99th Platoon – WWW's Dream: Uniting the Tediz

(A/N Well, it's that time of year again. When I get the urge to write something. This is, as you by now know, another 99th Platoon mission. The basics: This whole story was written up at gamefaqs.com by a group of individuals working together. We all had our say in the story. I did not start it off. All credit for the idea and all ideas that are not BFD related belong to him, WWW, the creator of this mission. I have his permission to re-write the story into a readable fashion. Right now I'm sifting through the posts trying to string it together. Unlike the first 99th Platoon mission I'm going to skip the boring introduction profiles. You know most of the team anyway. Aright then, let the games begin!)

Chapter 1: La Reveille

"Come back…"
"Who's there?"
"Come back…"
"Hello? Hello!"
"Come back…to your leader…"
"My what?"
"Your leader…your true leader…"
"My leader is Sergeant Rico!"
"No…you are wrong. There is no black and white any more. Just shades of grey."
"What the hell?"

"There is only grey. There are only the Tediz. Come back…re-join the Tediz army…"
"WHAT?! NEVER! I HAVE SWORN ALLEGIANCE WITH THE SQUIRRELS! I WILL NEVER GO BACK!!!"

"Oh you will…IN TIME!!!"

"NEVER!" The Tediz woke up. Sweat dripped off of his face as his pulse raced. His pillow was damp. He ran a brown paw over his head and placed his head in his hands. He felt physically, as well as mentally, drained. He turned to look at his clock.
1:05 AM.
"What the hell was that all about?" he mumbled to himself. He sighed as he fell backwards back onto his bed. He lay there for a while, tossing and turning, punching his pillow and pursuing other activities of the restless mind.
           

"It was so real…" he said out loud to the walls. He needed to talk to someone. Chael was perhaps also suffering from insomnia, wondering why he was still unable to get his C-4 the size of a thimble to blow.
"Whatever it is, he's working on one thing or another…"
The door squeaked loudly as he left the room.

Beethoven's Fur Elise sung softly through the slightly ajar door to Chael's lab. A voice hummed along with the tune over the low hum and buzz of machinery.

*tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa*

"Hmmm…"

*tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa*

"Oh. I see now…Right!"

*tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa- tapa*

"Sweet! Sweet, sweet, sweet!"

"Hey Chael!" whispered WWW. The two white squirrel ears poked over the computer screen. Soon followed the pinkish-red eyes and the Albino squirrel showed itself. It was Chael, resident Sniper, Explosives Expert and Science Freak.

"WWW! I got it! I have just made," he paused for effect, "The shrinkable unit! We no longer have to carry around our stuff in heavy bags! We shrink them into this container that, with the push of a single button, expands into a walking armoury, lab, pizza store, ANYTHING!" he finished.
WWW's face remained blank.
"So, what are you doin' up? You still aren't pissed over that Goldeneye match you lost last week are you?"

"Video games," thought WWW, "They'll help me relax…" He looked at Chael and grinned. "Best out of three?" he asked Chael. Chael set up the console.

-~-Later-~-
"Yeah…squeeeeeze the trigger…"

*BAM*

The, for WWW, all too familiar death music played as yet another sniper bullet lodged into his character's head. Chael looked at his Tediz friend.

"You okay? You look distracted."
"I am."
"T'sup?"
"Well, it's about this dream I've been having over the last few weeks. It's been getting all the more stronger and more intense as it goes along. Tonight's one though…freaked me out Chael."
He gave Chael the details of the dream.
"So, what do you make of it?"

"Hmmm," he put down his control, "From what you've told me…it's my professional opinion that you, my friend, are being brainwashed. Subtle, starting softly at first, if they went straight to the good stuff the R.E.M. levels would skyrocket, Alpha wave patterns would change and your brain would blow up."
WWW winced.
"But I can't be sure before running a few tests. Come over here for a second."

Chael hooked WWW up to what looked like a polygraph.

"Just something I've been working on. Still experimental but I think for this case it should work…Right, put your hand here aaaaaand yep that's right. Now, this might sting a bit…"

*wwwwwwwwwwwwiiiiirrrrrrrr*

*ZAP*

"OW! What the hell was that?!" yelled WWW releasing his arm from the cables. "What the hell are those?! Jump cables? Wait…they are jump cables…"
"Hey I'm kinda short on funding alright? Give me a god dang break…"
"So what did that do?"
"Recorded brain activity over a period ranging as far as 3 hours back…good thing you came when you did…otherwise it wouldn't have worked…Yep. Here's the read out…"
The printer connected to the machine spewed forth paper.
"Yeah. Here is where you were playing Goldeneye with me. Dang! I can see why you were losing…"
"Cut to the bloody point will you?"
"Alright! All right…here, as I thought. Increased brain activity when it should be slowing down. It appears like they're tapping into a memory bank, or something like that, that keeps you and them connected. A strong memory build up occurred around 10 to 9 years ago. About the time you switched sides. Curious."
"What's curious?"
"Nothing. Just had a thought."
"What?"
"Forget it. Isn't possible. Anyway, look, get some sleep and go see Sarge in the morning. I heard Anthrax was throwin' a party tonight at his pub. You can go catch them before they get to some Alka-Seltzer" Chael grinned.
"I'll take photos," WWW grinned back. He thanked Chael and made his way back to his room.

-~-At the Pub-~-
It was only 8 am when the door to Anthrax's Pub swung open, but still the whole Platoon could be seen lying wasted, scattered around the pub. Anthrax was wiping the bench clean when WWW walked up to him.

"Well if it isn't my good friend WWW. You missed a live one last night."
"So sue me…"
"I would if you guys would stop trashin' my joint."
"Trashing? It's called redecorating."
"Riiiiiiigh," the bartender laughed. "Can I fetcha sumat on the house?"
"Thanks. Just a soda, still too early for a night cap."
"Will do."

WWW admired the Platoon's handiwork. Sarge was seen sleeping with his feet on the couch, eyes covered under a metallic grey army helmet.
His cousin, Deja, had her feet stretched out in front of her as she occupied the other side. Her chin rested on her chest and rose and fell with its breathing.
From underneath Sarge's helmet an eyelid opened. Sarge tipped the edge of his helmet up.

"What's the matter soldier?" he asked. WWW jerked his head towards the nearest table. Sarge took the hint and carefully made his way across.

WWW began his long story. Sarge listened half-heartedly until a certain point…then he sat up and stared intently. Moments later he was tying his shoelaces tight and buttoning the cuffs on his sleeves.

"Hey Anthrax! Gimme the Reveille!"

The bartender nodded knowingly and placed the CD in the player.

*brrrrrrrrrrr Updidirrrrr UPDIRIDRRR DRRR DIII DRRR*

"Wha?! WHA?! WHA??!?!"
"I'm up! I'm up!"
"Shut uuuuuuupppp…"
"Gimme a break! It's Sunday for Pete's sake!"
"TURN OFF THE SODDING STEREO!!!!"

"HQ! Now! No questions asked! Get your asses into fifth gear and pronto!" The door was slammed shut and the Sergeant was out of the room. 10 seconds later tires were scrapping away at gravel.

Pyst held his head in his hands. Red veins were throbbing in his eyes.
"It's gonna be one of those days…"

-~-That night-~-
"Come. Come to where King Conker ploughed through our initial base. Come…and reap the harvest."