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

(A/N Read and Review. R & R. Toy's  'R' Us. WoRld foR kids. R. R, R, R, R, R, R, R! R and R!

[After those fifteen seconds of useless Author's note filling…] Next chapter please)

Chapter 5: A bullet in the night.

With the setting of the sun the Platoon reported to the tents. The assault was to begin a few hours before daybreak. The darkness turned out to be more of a hinder than anything else. Black. Pitch black.

Flatfeet lay awake staring at the nylon ceiling of the two-man tent. Cherry had her arms wrapped around his chest. Flatfeet's eyes starred at that one spot in the ceiling, till they drifted…drifted…and took Flatfeet's mind back…back to before.

-=FLASHBACK=-

Gunshot fire was ringing all day, and a much younger Flatfeet was being led by his squad leader, along with other squirrels.
"Damn these furry freaks! Chris, take the left tower with your sniper rifle! Pawn guard Chris! Flatfeet, go on offence with Isaac and Sid!" yelled Flatfeet's C.O.
"We have to clear the way for the assault!"
"Okay sir!" said Chris, taking his sniper rifle and picking off Tediz in the left tower. He was going fine, until he spotted a Tediz with a sniper rifle looking straight at him. "Lord, accept my..." he began, but could not finish with only half a face remaining.

"Chris! No!" screamed Isaac, going on offence too early. "You'll pay!" his voice full of anger.
"Wait Isaac, come back, it's too early!" shouted the C.O., but Isaac was dead before he even finished.
"DAMN IT! Alright guys, let's move to that shelter there, now go!" ordered the C.O. He and the squad ran to the small shelter.
"That's it! Pawn, go throw a grenade!" he continued. Pawn, a rather young squirrel, was extremely nervous about this, and he dropped the grenade.
"D-don't worry, I'll get it!" he said, wandering a bit too far looking for it.
"No, come back!" shouted Flatfeet, but a napalm bomb a Tediz threw at him set Pawn alight. He screamed in pain, the C.O. was about to go after him but a hail of turret-fire stopped him.

As soon as the guns stopped to reload, the squad leader was out there to save him.
"NO!" screamed Flatfeet and Sid, but the C.O. was already out there. As he neared Pawn, Pawn fell to the ground, still flaming, but dead.
"Shit!" cried the C.O. but as he tried his best to make it back, his leg was shot, sending him to the ground.
"Capt', no!!" cried the remaining squad, as they watched him get shot repeatedly until he was a bloody mess.

"This is not going to work now!" cried Sid. He barely finished when a missile came and blew the shelter into bits of metal. It sent Flatfeet and Sid flying through the air, back towards the beach. Flatfeet landed with a piece of metal stuck in his arm. Sid had a chunk lodged between his eyes.

"NO!" shouted Flatfeet in despair.  Sarge, before he met Flatfeet officially, came behind the screaming soldier and slammed him in the back of the head. He dragged him into safety. The next day Flatfeet was recruited into the 99th Platoon under a fake jury notice drawn up by Sarge. He had seen potential in the kid.
And the rest, as they say, is history.

-=END FLASHBACK=-

Private Ricy lay uncomfortably on the covered floor. He felt awkward, being the lowest ranking soldier in the Platoon.
"And sharing a tent with Sarge too!" he thought. Sarge was outside. He could hear his whispers travelling along the air. Ricy stood up. He instantly felt better. He decided he'd perch for the evening.
"War isn't all fun and games," he thought. A sharp zap went through his injured wing. He winced. "I could've gotten myself killed being a hero today." He listened to Flatfeet retelling Cherry his sad story.
"What if my friends got killed? How would I feel?" He grew woozy. His injuries had taken his toll on him. He went to sleep, exhausted.

RedStorm and Pyst were sharing a tent. They had taken out a deck of cards and were playing gin rummy.

*………*

RedStorm perked up his ears. He signalled to Pyst to be quiet as he listened intensely.
"What was it?" asked Pyst. RedStorm shrugged. It was hard to hear anything with the "pitter patter" of the constant rain.

*…sh…*

RedStorm lifted the tent flap. He thought he saw a light in the old sniping tower.
"Bah. Probably just rain." He dismissed it.

Medical Officer Renato "DaMedic" Mon had a hard time trying to set up his tent, considering the only tent building experience he ever got was in those two months he spent at summer camp each year. Needless to say, all his tents were rather pathetic.

But with trial and error and some help from Sarge, he had managed to pitch up a formidable looking tent. The tent was sized to accommodate one, so as to leave space for the medic supplies. The army's medic sign, a white circle with a red cross in the middle decorated the exterior. He went to take one last check on Ricy and his wing. He was fast asleep muttering something about Tediz and vengeance. Oh well.

Some things have to wait for another day. He said his goodnights, crawled into his sleeping bag and shut off too.

Chael popped a caffeine pill and set down some tools. He started to think of the time he spent on the Beach. Where he first met Sarge.
Conker, now King and Head of the Agency, was running down the beach towards the last boat. Machine gun fire was snapping away at his tail. Three Tediz were running after Conker with bazookas armed and ready to fire. Sarge yelled for the nearest sniper. Chael took aim. Three dead bodies hit the ground.
WWW, his tent-mate, tapped Chael on the shoulder. Chael snapped out of his trance.
"You okay?"
"Been better." He rubbed his eyes. He looked down at the bits and pieces in front of him and began welding something together. WWW shook his head.

Deja had set up a little foldout-chair and parked herself down by the beach under a little umbrella, enjoying the soft sound of the rain. She was painting her nails. Sarge who had finished checking on the rest of the Platoon came and sat next to Deja. He could not sleep either. He almost died here. Thousands actually did die. All died under his command. Not the best of times. They sat outside in the darkness, with the occasional reassuring thunder from the hanging grey clouds.

"What's wrong Rico?" She blew softly on her freshly painted nails. She respected the quiet Sarge wanted and neither said anything. Past and Future. Large and Small. Alike yet Different. 39 year old and 24 year old. Sarge sighed.

"Well it all stared when…"

The time flew and the two relatives sat staring at the stars, the only sound the sound of Sarge's voice.

"And that's about it really...Not the best of times, for sure."
"Don't worry Rico," she paused, smiling, "I'll look after you."
"Thank you Dana." He smiled and put his arm around his cousin, giving her a friendly hug. They both got up and walked next to each other. "Big Brother" Sarge shielded his younger cousin.

Good thing he was shielding his younger cousin.

A moment later a bullet was lodged in between his neck and his shoulder.
He gave out a loud groan and fell down dragging Deja down with him. She ran for cover doing the best to drag Sarge with her. His wound was not critical but was spewing large amounts of blood.

Deja looked back to try and get a glimpse of whatever hit Sarge. A bullet hit her shoulder, narrowly missing her heart. More groans, more blood.
Cherry was having just as hard a time sleeping. As Deja hit the ground, Cherry turned her head in that direction. Lucky.

A bullet whizzed through and shot off the tip of her black nose.

Mon woke up due to the cries of pain. He was out in the open rubbing his eyes. Sleep had taken its toll on him. He looked one way; there was Cherry with a bleeding nose. He ran to her. He heard something and there was Sarge and Deja. Both spewing blood that would rival Old Faithful. He called out for help.
Those that were of able body woke up and carried the three to three separate stretchers.

It was obvious that the abandoned Crow's Nest was not as abandoned as it looked.

The Master Sniper saw no need to fire anymore. This had simply been a warning shot. Clearly, the choice was to flee or get shot one by one.

"Eye-a gotta tha femal Squiggy…the large Squiggy and tha civlian." Stated the Master. His commander nodded pleased.

"Good. Rest now. Shoot again tomorrow."
The Master turned, his black cloak wrapped tight around him.

(A/N that bit where the Master is speaking is kinda like in "The Hunt for Red October" where the actors change language slowly from Russian to English. Or in this case Tediz to English)