The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle
(A/N I have decide that it would be best to work bottom to top. Meaning
that I have already finished WWW'sD:UTT and am now working on EFBC. The stories
are in a mixed chronological order but trust me. It's for the better. Just read
whichever one you feel like reading. By the way: S.A.A. is Standard Army
Attire.)
Chapter 2: The Gathering
She walked out of the car. She told him that she had to make a phone call. Be
back in five he had said. She nodded.
Sarge heard a helicopter in the sky. Sarge looked up to see a parachute. He
shook his head.
"Well, here's one of them
-- Hey, wait! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE LANDING!"
The parachute slowly descended to the ground, landing on top of Sarge's car.
The reaction was instantaneous.
"AAAAHHHHH! OREOS! GET OFF MY FRICKIN' CAR NOW!"
Oreos leapt off, slicing the 'chute cords.
"Sorry about that ol' chap, there was some wind, so my landing was a bit
inaccurate." Oreos asked. Sarge grabbed him violently by the throat.
"You scratched it!!! DIE!!"
Oreos garbled through a closed oesophagus.
"Nice...to...see...you...too...Sarge..."
"Am I interrupting something here?" It was a new voice, unknown even by Sarge.
Then Sarge's eyes narrowed.
"The new guy?"
The new arrival nodded.
"You walked?"
He nodded again.
He was red. That was the first distinguishing feature about him. His hair was
spiked up, more of a dusty gold than a dirty blonde. He wore a loose T-shirt,
black, and with it S.A.A. fatigue pants. The thing that got your attention was
the staff he held in his hand. It was made to look like wood but the three
metal slits at both ends gave it away. Sarge knew something sinister and
dangerous could come out of those slits.
"What's your name son?"
"Red."
"Red what?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean is it Red like Madonna or is it Red Smith, Jones, whatever?"
"Storm. RedStorm."
Sarge stared.
"…riiiiiiiight…"
*wwwwhhhhhooooooo*
"What was that?" Sarge asked.
*oooooooooooooooOOOO*
"Look up there!" shouted Oreos.
*OOOOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOOO*
"Hey, it's..."
"YEAH!"
*CRUNCH*
"O-ho ho! Nice one Squeaky, Sarge 'll have your head!"
"MY CAR!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Squeaky dashed out of reach.
"Sorry Sarge, the sheer velocity of the lunar-launcher misshaped my previously
shaped landing coordinates!" he apologised.
"I have no idea what you just said but I'm gonna wring your neck!"
A motorbike was heard tearing down the road. Sarge groaned.
"I hope it's not Johnson. He drives worse than my great grandpa. And he's
dead."
"Sarge...LOOK OUT!" Oreos pointed down the path.
"WHAT?!"
CoolGuy blazed past and almost hit Sarge's car.
"Thank you…"
*K-RISH*
The glass shattered as the explosively charged air vibrated behind the bike.
"Uh oh," muttered CoolGuy. He tried tearing off in the other direction when
something grabbed the back of his bike and lifted.
"Hiya Sarge…" he mumbled.
The Platoon was hanging around outside the gates waiting to go inside. Slowly
in the distance, a thumping sound was heard. As it grew steadily louder the
group started to see headlights. Finally, the source of the thumping and lights
came into view. The car skidded to a halt in front of them and the lights shut
off. Inside, multi-coloured lights flashed for a little while longer and then
stopped. The door opened and intense techno music flooded the area.
Twisted stepped out of the passenger seat, followed by Chael. Chael, the Albino
Squirrel, put on his characteristic "wrap around" shades, as he was sensitive
to extreme light.
"So, what's up?"
"How could a soldier like you afford a car like that?"
"It pays to have rich parents and know what their bank account is."
"And what about Twisted?"
"It pays to catch a lift with this guy," Twisted smirked.
The cab that screeched to a halt next was filled with opaque grey smoke. The
doors opened and a giggling, sniggering Renato "DaMedic" Mon staggered out.
Rasta music was blaring from the engine and the characteristic red-gold-green
flag was hanging off the rear-view mirror. The driver stepped out. He was a
brown squirrel with two black stripes running down his neck and back. His hair
was done up in dreadlocks. Numerous beads and bangles hung off his neck. Mon
snorted and jerked a thumb in his direction.
"Guys…*tee hee*…meet Iron Lion *snort* Zion – ILZ. He's the other new
guy…*bwa-ha-ha!*"
A fog had begun settling around the lower half of the hill. There were numerous
clouds hanging over-head yet somehow the full moon shone through brightly.
Suddenly the sound of twigs being snapped underfoot was heard. In two different
places. Whilst the others looked around alarmed Sarge merely sighed.
"Dark – Stealth. Knock it off will you."
Stealth stepped out of the fog followed by DarkFlame, the Panther. They wore
nearly identical half sulks – half scowls.
"How did you know?" Stealth asked.
"Call it instinct."
As Sarge and co. waited, a commotion came from the docks south of their
position.
"What the hell is that?"
Rick "Pyst" Gores burst out of the water, decked out in Navy SEAL gear. He
climbed out of the water, holding a big machine gun and wearing another dozen
guns. Pyst ran up to Sarge and snapped off a salute.
"Sarge! I made it!"
Pyst looked at everyone confused.
"Uh, how come no one else is prepped for combat?"
"Combat? This is a banquet you numbskull!" Sarge barked.
"Wha?"
"Banquet! Didn't you read the invitation?" Oreos sighed.
"Uh, sort of...I was watching 'The Big Hit' when I was reading it…" he took out
the invitation and read it. "...so, there's no assassination mission?"
"Of course not you idiot!"
"Oh, well that explains a few things... so, uh, we going up there soon?"
"As soon as the rest of the Platoon gets here and you leave your guns here."
Sarge pointed to the trunk of his car.
"What!"
"You heard me! We wanna show up looking like professionals, not mindless
trigger happy grunts."
"But I am a mindless trigger happy grunt!"
"NOW!"
"All right, geez." Pyst removed his guns and put them in Sarge's car's trunk.
"I am getting these back right?"
"If you behave tonight I'll think about it."
"Left here!"
"Please dear, shut up."
"I can't see through all this fog!"
"That makes two of us hon."
"We have to travel to a formal banquet and the best means of travel you can get
us is A DONKEY?!"
"Shertz rent-a-car will never be trusted again."
"Hey! There they are!"
"Woah boy!"
The braying of a donkey announced the arrival of Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans and
his newly wed wife. Cherry had managed to stay stunning again, tall, slim and
with her flaming red hair highlighted by her red dress. Cherry was a civilian
but with training in army ways. But she was welcomed always with warmth, seeing
as there was no other female that the Platoon had contact with…or was it so?
The mysterious figure from the vehicle finally came back from her phone call.
She was tall, as tall as Cherry, almost as tall as Sarge and Pyst even. She was
wearing a black dress, sleeveless, that had a split down the side and black
high heels. Her legs were well exercised and long. One would hate to get a kick
in the jaw by her. Her tail flicked the air ever so slightly. She folded her
dainty yet firm looking arms. Her features were similar to Sarge. But she was
obviously quite younger. She had her hair down but one got the impression that
it was often tied into a ponytail.
Sarge cracked his knuckles.
"Meet my baby cousin – Dana "Déjà vu" Rodriguez, the first female
member of The 99th Platoon. Don't mess with her or you mess with me.
And I mess you up back. Know what I mean?"
Deja glared at Sarge.
"I can take care of myself Sarge. Nice to meet you people."
They stared. For a long time no one spoke. They just stared. Some swallowed
hard. Pyst made the first move.
"Hiya. I'm Pyst. I like shooting. Especially with my Big Gun, know what I mea-"
Sarge moved to enforce his previous statement but Deja acted first.
It happened faster than anyone could see.
Pyst was down on the ground with his head pinned between Deja's knees. She had
pinned one of Pyst's arms under his back and held the other in a firm grip. Her
free hand held a combat knife to Pyst's throat. Sarge shrugged.
"Hey, I warned you."
Deja let Pyst go. Shakily he stood up. Sarge motioned for them to get going.
Pyst leaned over to Oreos.
"I've only got one question," Pyst asked.
"What?"
"Where the hell was she hiding that knife?!"
