The 99th Platoon: Sweet Revenge

by Zimbio

The 99th Platoon are shut down for 6th months and suddenly return to action on a request. However, they find their mission cuts closer to home than anyone would've liked... Rated for swearing and rampant violence.

3. Annoying Alliteration

AN: Here we are again… chapter three. Hopefully, it'll be much clearer than chapter two, although I think I abused dashes in this one.

What's with fanfiction and dashes, anyways?

-Thomas "WWW" C. Blight

Chapter 3: Annoying Alliteration

Sixteen people who had been to hell and back so many times they had begun to enjoy it. Sixteen people who had grown so close over the course of a few years that they may as well have been blood-related. Sixteen people who would set their sights on one single goal and combine their impressive skills and peculiar minds to regain something they had lost… Something that was taken from them: respect; their bond and their lives.

The Platoon itself was comprised of more than sixteen people, but there were a few who could not possibly make it. They were physically unable to be with their comrades, but spiritually, they would be on the battlefield fighting alongside their brethren. It was the way of the soldier. He had to be on the battlefield beside his fellow brothers-in-arms, or he wasn't at home. If they died and he lived, there would be no forgiveness or self-pity. There would be only self-hatred. Self-loathing. But the Platoon did not plan to die. They had too much to gain and too little to lose, which gave them an edge in battle and tactics.

All that could have been reached had been gathered, and they all stood in the same room. Each one of them was wondering what they were doing in a place such as Anthrax's bar a place they had frequented so many times mere months before but had since become alienated with the bar itself. What they were about to find out would shock them. Anger them, even. There would be no forgiveness in their hearts when they heard of the treachery!

All fell silent as Sarge raised his hand, patting the air before him. He stepped off to the side, motioning for WWW and his companion to take center stage, which they quickly did. As the Tediz, good-hearted as they come, began to speak, his words echoed in the minds of his listeners.

"Our disbanding was no accident, my friends," he began. "For there is a man who serves under Conker, which is no surprise to you, I'm sure. There are many who serve under the King... But this one in particular is the keeper of secrets. We, the 99th Platoon, are a secret… were a secret. Our operations almost always involved going behind enemy lines without proper authorization, and we were given the most difficult objectives ever to cross the King's desk..."

"Cut to the chase," came a raspy reply as Dark leaned forward slightly, half of his face able to be seen, but both of his eyes shimmered intensely as he looked upon his comrade.

"The chase. Right." WWW was about to speak when there was a rather loud growling noise that of someone clearing his clogged throat.

"Ah! My apologies… For those of you that don't know, this is Defense Minister H. Ardass. He is a major part of the reason we are all gathered here today... Perhaps I should turn it over to him."

The Platoon stirred slightly as the Defense Minister took the floor, his words flowing out with the ease of a campaigning politician.

"The problem here is that you were all wrongly treated and your operation was wrongly shut down due to the fact that a man named Arkaine let your unit number slip. The media ate it up and people began to question Conker's ability to rule without lying to his people. He had no choice but to flush the operation, and all of you with it."

A pause.

"Accidents do happen, but not in matters such as this. We believe Arkaine purposely let your number slip. We came to this conclusion after an extensive background check and surveillance of him. We have evidence that leads us to believe that this man has ties with a large terrorist cell, and he is planning to overthrow the King. We need you to stop him."

Dark stepped outwards into the dim light, his arms hanging at his sides. His eyes stayed locked with that of the Defense Minister, and a slight frown tugged at his lips. He was, no doubt, disappointed with how things were being run. The only line of defense for the King from an inner strife had been flushed due to information that slipped. It should have been so obvious! They should have seen it!

He growled lowly, turning on his heel towards his fellow Platoon members. They had all been assembled to save the King that had thrown them back into reality without the slightest thank you. The King who had allowed Dark to be thrown behind bars and turned into even more of an animal than he already had been... The King who they had saved countless times before, the King that they would save again.

And so it begins...

Snickers' eyes glinted as he felt the warm gin descending through his throat, emptying his glass. Another mission going down, he thought. It was time to drop his drinking habit and get back into gear. He reached in his backpack and grabbed his holster, wrapping it around his shoulder as the Defense Minister pulled out a large map.

"Alright, intelligence reports show that this city is completely overrun by the terrorists, and is being used as a hostile base of operations. The military has already been dispatched but they can't get there immediately. What we need is a small force to cause some chaos in the terrorist ranks, maybe scare some of their men into deserting. Your second objective is to infiltrate the clock tower in the center of the city and get some answers. Then, you'll dust off and let the army clean up."

With that the team grabbed their bags and hiked outside the pub, where a pair of helicopters waited for them hidden in the darkness. Snickers looked at the one on the left and instantly recognized his old friend. He quickly hopped into the cockpit and gripped the joystick. Memories of old times swelled in his head. All he knew is that he was happy to be back. He slid on his helmet and focused his lenses. Outside, the bay doors boomed open and the platoon began to pile in.

He was happy to be on a mission again with his boys, and yet there was a part of Sarge's mind that could not rest.

Arkaine.

The name struck a chord in Sarge's presubconscious and yet remained distantly in front of him, like someone hiding in a thick pea-soup fog. He tried remembering what the name meant to him, yet a separate image emerged...

'I've got a bullet hole in my chest...and it's not looking good.'

Sarge had read Oreos' report over a year ago.

'Tediz snipers are pouring in. Those bastards found us out.'

They were storming the base. Tediz. Everywhere.

'I'm taking heavy fire. My tower's gonna fall. There's only one way.'
'I'm leading this mission! You can't talk like that soldier!'

Seconds later the tower had exploded in a jet of flame.
He was gone.
It was over.

Sarge shook his head. There was a new mission at hand.
Let the ghosts of the past rest in peace...

The chopper's blades whirred as they rotated at near-sonic speed. They flew over a military encampment and began to enter the area the terrorists had claimed as theirs. The terrorists had already taken thousands of people hostages, from everyday citizens to politicians and him. The king. Conker.

The ex-soldiers saw a military camp, flying the Windy banner. They didn't understand; Ardass had said the military was on its way, but wouldn't be able to deploy for at least two days. This camp was definitely ready to deploy at any moment. Could it be that Ardass' intelligence was a trick and that they were walking into a trap? It was dangerous to think about, but Sarge knew it couldn't be. Mr. Ardass was highly respected for his devotion to his men and his country. However, he couldn't ignore the possibility that Arkaine could've tainted the intelligence reports.

Meanwhile, at the aforementioned base

-Ring-

A brown squirrel and several grey squirrels sat at a table strewn with maps and intelligence reports. They were in a large tent, with several armed guards at the door and patrolling around it.

-Ring-

The brown squirrel, known as Arkaine, the traitor, looked around. The grey squirrels, all sporting Standard Army Attire but decorated from numerous victories, all looked at each other.

-Ring-

All eyes fell on Arkaine. He realized it was his phone ringing. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out.

"Hello, Arkaine. It's Ardass. Where are you?"
"Relax, Ardass. I'm in a military camp. I know you're the defense minister but you worry too much."
"This is a serious matter, Arkaine. We need to make sure all high-ranking officials are safe, preferably not in the same spot."
"I know. I'm in the middle of a meeting, so you can go ahead and warn the others."
"Okay. Stay safe, Arkaine."

In Anthrax's Pub

Harold Ardass put the phone down. He knew Arkaine was with the terrorists, but he didn't have the authority or the backing to get him out of a commanding position. For now, he'd pretend he didn't know about Arkaine's background.

Four men walked in; a grey squirrel, a hedgehog, a fox and a weasel. They were wearing plain clothes and seemed just like normal customers. The squirrel walked up to the bar, with one hand behind his back.

"I need a Defense Minister, on the rocks."
"We don't serve those here."
The click of a gun's safety and the gun's barrel against his ear told Anthrax they meant business.
"Oh, you do now."
"I told you, we don't serve those here!"

Anthrax smashed him in the gut, hard enough to wind him. Anthrax ducked and grabbed the shotgun, pumping it and blasting the guy's ribcage at point blank as soon as he got back up. He ducked down again and saw H. Ardass roll over the bar.

It's going to be one long night... Anthrax thought.

The resulting gunfight left three more dead terrorists on the floor of the pub and two unhurt squirrels behind the bar.
Damnit, this'll cost a fortune! Anthrax thought, surveying the damage resulting from the gunfight. The bar was in bad shape, with dents where bullets ricocheted off of it and holes where bullets had entered it. Behind the bar, a keg was pierced and leaked foamy ale. Looking over to H. Ardass, Anthrax noticed there were almost no shots near him. They obviously wanted him alive.

"You've got dangerous acquaintances, Ardass. I can't stay awake forever, so either you take the back door out or you stay here and stay on your guard."
"I'll leave. But I'll take the service route."

Anthrax lifted a rug on the floor to reveal a sewer drain. Lifting the drain, Ardass entered the sewer. Anthrax handed him a flashlight before closing the drain and putting the rug back over it. Then sighing as he surveyed the scene, Anthrax got to work cleaning up.

The Helicopter

"Set us down here." WWW said.
"I know what I'm doing! We can go a little farther!" Snickers replied.
"Something's wrong."
"We can go a little farther."
"What's that on the thermo radar?"
"Dunno. Moving fast though."
"Wait... Isn't that about the speed of an anti-air missile?"
"As fired from a stinger missile launcher?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Fuck!"
"Bail out! Everyone drop!"
The platoon dropped out of the helicopter, parachutes on their backs, until only WWW and Snickers remained.
"Fuck the helicopter, man! Drop or die!"
WWW grabbed Snickers and pulled him out of the helicopter.

The helicopter exploded, lighting up the sky. Shrapnel sliced through the air around the two ex-soldiers, barely missing them, but piercing their parachute. Their descent quickened as the parachute produced less drag.

"My... My baby!"
"Oh shut up, you would've been blown up with it if it weren't for me."

They landed roughly to find themselves surrounded by terrorists packing assault rifles. WWW counted 15 on his side and there were probably at least that much behind him.

"Hey Snickers, on a scale from one to ten, how screwed are we?"
"Fourteen."

The morning glare from the numerous rifles pointed at his head irritated Snickers's eyes. It was clear to him that they couldn't hope to beat such odds, and he slowly dropped his gun and put his hands on his head. Behind him, WWW sensed his movements and did the same. The terrorists' ranks split, opening for a muscular white panther.

"Ahh, you must be Windy mercenaries. I admit, I expected better than you."
WWW suppressed a snarl. We are the best there is.
"I hope you find our hospitality satisfactory. After all, we offer only the best."

They were handcuffed and marched toward the city.

WWW and Snickers looked around as they were force-marched to wherever they would be imprisoned. There were thirty-one terrorists, with mixed races. WWW saw nearly every race represented, except Tediz, of course.

Their apparent leader was standing behind the two captives. He cut a sharp and unique figure, an albino panther wearing light grey leather. He reminded WWW of Dark, except white and with two long knives strapped to his belt instead of a sword. WWW was thinking his name might be Light, but decided it was too corny to have two panthers with brightness related names in the world.

"Stop." The order was efficient at most. It told WWW nothing of his character.
"The prisoners cannot be allowed to see the route we take." Again, the panther was brutally efficient.

A cracking noise to his left told WWW they weren't going to be blindfolding them. WWW felt the next crack, on the back of his skull. He went out cold.

The female fox looked at the walls to see if they could find a way out of the mess, but as she did, her cellmate, Flatfeet, was looking through the window, looking like he had nothing else better to do. She stopped and looked at him.

"Is something wrong, Flatfeet?"
"Nah, nothing's wrong. Just wondering how the fuck we're ever gonna get out of this place.
"But staring into space isn't gonna help, is it?"
"Beats me...but maybe you had something in mind?"

Serena looked to the wall.
"I'm trying to see if there are any hollow bricks, so that way we could get out and then help Sarge & the others."

"Well good luck," Flatfeet said, then muttered, "you're gonna need it..."

With that, the wondered fox continued to tap to find the hollow brick, hoping it would get them both out.

Oreos had his back against a wall. Checking his ammo, he was ready for one heck of a ride. It's not like any of this was new to him. He was saving the world even after the plat99n split; but now he was back on a team. It wasn't just his ass on the line anymore.

Whether that be a good or bad thing, Oreos decided not to think about it. Their primary objective was to eliminate Arkaine.

He kept his K7 Avenger on its strap, and treaded towards the tall grass for cover.

Chael touched down and removed his chute. He looked around but couldn't see any of the others.

Looks like I have to track down the others.

He closed his eyes and focused on his hearing, but only natural sounds could be heard. So he shifted his concentration to smell.

Sniff.
Sniff.

He turned his head to his right and opened his eyes.

That's a scent I recognize.

He headed into the area sub machine gun in hand. He thought to himself that his first mission was turning out to be fun.

"Aw fuck, I'm getting too old for this crap."
Sarge saw white - naught else as he rummaged through the folds of his parachute. He couldn't believe just how fast they had screwed up.
He continued to fumble through the material's folds.
They were scattered deep in hostile terrorist territory, searching for the abducted Conker.
"Pfft..." Sarge snorted. "Long live the King..."
He squinted his eyes as he came out of the bright white 'chute, and scanned the surrounding environment.

He was, most definitely, lost.

"Shit." Sarge grabbed his sore back. "It's gonna be a long day..."

It was all wrong. The Platoon lay scattered amongst a land they had not before traveled. A land infested with the evil and malicious terrorists that threatened the every day existence of every man, woman, and child on the planet. They wanted it their way or no way at all, and they felt no remorse for any action taken. Monsters! They would all die every last one of them. They would fall to the cold steel of swords and the painfully accurate shots of the vast majority of the Platoon Pyst not included.

Dark had dove out of the chopper before most others due to his feline reflexes, but he was reluctant in doing so. He knew the consequences of their actions, but he also knew the more lethal consequences of staying in a helicopter that was doomed to explode. He hit the ground and fell into an immediate roll, becoming somewhat tangled in the cords that attached him to the long white parachute that dragged along behind him. An irritated growl and a slight scraping sound later, the cords were soon severed, and the panther stopped his roll, slamming his foot into a nearby tree trunk.

Dark flipped up to his feet, using the sudden and abrupt movements to check for any broken bones or torn muscles. Save for a few sore spots, he was perfectly and oddly intact. His violet irises scanned the immediate area, and he found it to be forested where he had landed. However, about two hundred yards ahead of him, there was a clearing, in which the target city lay. He was alone in the midst of a large amount of terrorists. The thought alone would have sent chills down the spine of any man, but it brought a wry grin to Dark's face. Though he found the odds intriguing, he knew he had to find his comrades…

FourteNo! Fourteen was not the correct number!

It all came rushing back to the panther, as he stood alone in the middle of a thick forest. Before they had all left the pub for the choppers, the last two additions to the team had showed up. Zeta. Kay. They were newer recruits to the team alongside Serena, and they were the last to get the message that the Platoon was re-assembled for another, more secretive mission. Their late arrivals had not gone without a berating by Sarge, but they were welcomed and informed as of the details in the chopper... It all must have slipped Dark's mind as he was pondering the mission itself...

Sixteen soldiers good, honest men and women scattered behind enemy lines with no means of communication. They would have to be found and gathered before the assault on the city was made. The Platoon could not hope to take down the terrorist regime occupants if they were not unified in doing so.

Dark grunted slightly as he sped off, dodging tree limbs and leaping over logs. He had to find Sarge first. Undoubtedly, the terrorists would be looking for survivors of the crash. The panther had seen Sarge falling, and he noted that the squirrel landed in the same vicinity.

"Put... them... lower... cell... keys"

This is what Snickers heard as he groggily came to his senses, a piercing headache surging from the back of his head. He winced his eyes at the light from a single bulb in the ceiling. He had been knocked out cold for at least an hour. The squirrel reached his tied arms out and felt some fuzz. Yep, it was WWW beside him. They were both locked up somewhere in the tower and they both had to get out unnoticed. Snickers nudged WWW in the stomach and heard a groan as the bear came to life again. WWW flailed wildly.

"What the hell, where's those bastards... Snicks, you ok?"
"Yea, lil headache, light's not helping... anyways they stripped our weapons and I guess we're pretty far underground, the way the roof is leaking and how it's smelling like dirt in here. Any Ideas...?"
"I've got a few...but those guards are gonna have to go... that's where you come in Snicks, I'll get started on these bars."

The squirrel felt WWW's claw reach over to his ropes and slash them. His hands fell free; it was time to get to business.

Stealth Fired one shot at the double glass door entrance of a nondescript building. The bullet shattered the window on contact. Sending shards of glass all over the floor, and all over Stealth as he leaped through one of the doors. As soon as the Ninja landed he quickly scanned the area, no terrorists in sight. His eyes glowed like an animals hunting its prey in the dark. He stayed low and shook off all of the pieces of glass stuck to his attire. Tanks and soldiers patrolled the outskirts of the city. It would be difficult to find a way in.

Stealth needed to find an ally to accompany him. Though, that would also be somewhat of a journey, since the Platoon had scattered. Hopefully he would meet up with someone. Stealth dropped to his stomach, and hurried into the tall grass.

WWW checked the bars. Good quality stuff. I'd be hard to break through them, but if he tried, it would be a few hours. He could try to reach through and pick the lock...

He poked his head out, looking at the lock. Straight keyhole. WWW surmised that it wasn't a keyhole but actually a data stick insert. It seemed to be a High-grade prison. He wondered what kind of felons would normally be kept here: Probably worse than Dark, he decided.

He looked at the hinges of the door and stared in shock. The hinges were unprotected. He started to work removing the pins. He held the door in place, handed the pins to Snickers and waited.

Snickers' arm reached out to the guard. Taking a pin, he forced it through the soft tissue in the guard's neck. The guard dropped dead. He pulled a knife off the guard and slit the other's throat.

WWW moved the door and they made their short-lived escape.

"Going somewhere, boys? You remain quite persistent. Now that we know your skill, you will be put somewhere you will not be a threat." The albino panther said as Snickers and WWW stopped in their tracks.

WWW threw the guard's knife as he drew the handgun he had pocketed. Snickers did likewise.

The panther grabbed both knives by the hilt before flipping them in his hand and throwing them back. The ex-soldiers dodged and fired on him. He drew his knives as he dodged and moved towards Snickers. He slashed, but Snickers fired, forcing the panther to execute a rolling dodge. As a consequence, the bullet hit one of the knives, knocking it out of the panther's hand. He lifted the other to slash. Time seemed to slow down.

-click-

-click-

-clickclick-

-clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick-

Out of ammo.
Snickers could only watch as his death came down upon him. He closed his eyes. Time returned to normal and the slash arced down above Snickers' head.

Only it was hit by a bullet and thrown out of the hand holding it.

Snickers opened his eyes to see a very angry albino panther standing in front of him, unarmed. He grabbed Snickers and flung him into WWW. Two cracks sounded as their heads hit the wall. They were out cold.

They awoke in an all-brick cell, save a steel door with naught but air holes for the prisoners.

WWW heard tapping on the other side of the wall. He tapped his name in Morse code and pressed his ear to the wall.

A vaca foi para o brejo.

"The cow went to the swamp." It was a Brazilian saying meaning that something had screwed up completely.

That was what Mon had cursed to himself as he bailed. It was when he landed on the surface of an apartment complex that he noticed he wasn't alone. Another squirrel had landed with him. It was comforting to know that misery enjoys company.

"Oi, who's there?"
"Mon?"
"CG?"

In the darkness of the night, Mon whipped out his scalpel and commenced to cut himself from his bonds. His companion began to do the same with a knife.

"Fancy meeting you here," said the medic after he was free from his straps and coming to a couched position.
"Agh, what a way to begin the mission," said CG, parting the last strap from his pack. He checked the perimeter from what little he could see. All seemed well.

'You think we've been seen?'

An uneasy silence ensued for some time. Both squirrels arched their ears to minute sounds. At most it sounded like a commotion was happening elsewhere. This was slight comfort for them. The only other sound was the breeze molding it's way past the two.

"We're in the green. Got everything?"

"Yup, it's all right here."

Rubbing the dust from their eyes, they could see that hey were on a building, about eight stories in height, at about the outskirts of the city. The light breeze continued to blow.

"Righty ho then, Charlie Gamma, the terrorists have probably seen our chutes, so I think we best be getting a move on."
"Sure thing Delta... uh... What was Y again?"
"Yankee"
"And M?"
"Motel. Dammit CG, aren't you supposed to know all this?"
As they made their was down the complex, through the flight of stairs, CG muttered something about "Not paying attention during that part of the training."