The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle
(A/N Here it is! The chapter I've owed you dear readers since WWW'sD:UtT. Enjoy
it.)
Chapter 14: I Came. I Saw. I Conkered.
A cell phone rang out from somewhere in Sarge's car. He picked it up, yelling
to the others to stop the cars and wait. They drove next to Sarge so they could
hear the conversation…
"'llo?"
"RICO!" a voice boomed over the line. "Where the hell have you been!? We need
to speak to you and your men URGENTLY! Get your asses over here now soldier!!"
The line closed and Sarge looked at his troops, surprised.
"Well troops…you heard the man… Fasten your seatbelts…"
They floored the cars for all they were worth.
Time: One hour later
Location: Windy Army Division [W.A.D.]
"Where the hell are they?" the angry Squirrel boomed.
*KaRAAASH....tinkle tinkle tinkle*
"Sorry about the wall sir..." said Sarge, getting out of the car. The Platoon
followed. Major B. Addass brushed plaster off of his uniform. Sarge looked up
and his face lit up. Thomas Warclat and Andrew J. McGregor…
"WWW! Ajax!" Sarge shook hands with both of them.
"Sorry we couldn't make that dinner Sarge," said WWW. 'Ajax FireStorm' the
Tabby laughed.
"We had one beer too many…"
"You didn't miss anything. Believe me."
Walking in through the hole in the wall came…
"Cartman! Gavyn! Snickers! What are you guys doing here?"
"We don't know Sarge…they just called us in…"
"Look you patsies! Enough chit-*******-chat! Follow me..." the Major barked.
They followed the Major through the wide halls of W.A.D.. They entered an
elevator. The elevator began a decent. Dumb elevator music played
"Well it can't get worse than this..." somebody muttered.
The sound of flatulence filled the air along with a potent odour.
"Oh My Giddy Aunt! Who The?!" Sarge gagged.
"Dammit Rico! Your men pack a punch!"
"How many floors left?" Squeaky gasped.
"Seventy…"
"YYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
-70 floors later-
*ping*
*Gasp...*
The Major stepped out and addressed the Platoon.
"Gentlemen…"
"Er-HEM!"
"…and lady. What you shall witness now you have not seen once you leave this
room. Am I understood? Good."
He placed his hand on a pad. A door slid open. They stepped inside and couldn't
help but gasp in awe.
A giant complex spawned under ground, stretching off in all directions.
Computers lined the walls, along with tactical charts and posters of 'most
wanted' personalities.
A single emblem declared the title of this facility:
The Agency.
A familiar figure stood proudly in the centre of the room.
"Conker?" asked Sarge surprised.
"That's right Sarge. I'll cut to the chase you all look tired. Look we've been
keeping an eye on you for quite some time now and frankly you guys are the best
we've got. Best stats, best times, largest success rate...You guys are a pain
in the ass but hey, we gotta live with it."
"I resent that..."
"Listen. We have a little suggestion for you. We, the government of this fine
country want to turn you into an elite class of special operatives."
"Which means..." Pyst asked.
"When the stuff hits the fan you boys...and girl are the first on the site. You
will have to cut all communication with the outside world. You shall be seeing
things no other Squirrel has the right to see. You must become anonymous, dead
to the world. You shall no longer exist as individuals but only as members of
The 99th Platoon. You shall have no names, no surnames on any record. Only you
and we, The Agency, will know your real names. There will be no ranks. You will
no longer be Privates Sergeants, Lieutenants, or Captains. We shall have our
own chain of command. Rico, team leader, takes the orders from us. Anything you
do off duty is off the record and we CANNOT help you under any circumstances.
If you are caught The Agency shall deny ever knowing you, shall deny your very
existence. Only on missions of our own issuing shall we take care of. You are
going to be soldiers of fortune, freelance. The cash is better. Don't bring
vendettas or any other tet-a-tet **** to The Agency. Once again, any of that
and you guys are on your own." He paused and let this entire chunk of
information sink in.
"You can take this as you will. Do you accept or do you decline? Remember,
anonymity and death to the world in exchange for...a substantial wage increase
and funding of all sort, laboratory, medical and arsenal. I'll take it Sarge
speaks for you all?"
The Platoon looked at Sarge and nodded. Sarge looked at Conker.
"There are some conditions we need to discuss…"
"Such as?"
"FlatFeet will want to bring his wife…"
"Ok."
"Chael gets his own lab."
"Already done."
"We all need new cars."
"Will do."
"And I'll tell you the rest as we think of it. If those conditions are
met…then…" he turned and looked at the Platoon. His Platoon. "We're in."
Conker walked up to a computer console. Pictures of the entire Platoon popped
up. He double clicked on each soldier's identity. A profile appeared. He typed
away some more.
*Delete records?*
"Here goes nothin'..." Sarge sighed.
*click*
*The images vanish, text is deleted. Within 24 hours all physical records
are deleted. Each Platoon member "dies" one way or another. Within 24
hours there is nothing. Nothing but...The Agency, The 99th Platoon and a very,
very, large increase in pay...*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Fade to black~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
