War with the Deranged Killer Mutant Monster Snow Goons 12
Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes, Moe and Susie. They are owned by Bill Watterson.
Cheers, hurrahs, praises came from the children as they came truimpetly back into the fort. Their victory, their first full victory against the snow goons.
"We killed them!" yelled one.
"We killed them all," replied another.
Watching them as they came back, Calvin smiled widely as Miller led his Greys, followed closely by Hobbes and his catapults. What a fight. Though observing from a distance, they could see the bravery of Miller and the courage of Hobbes. By that time, Susie's raiders had returned with a sizable amount of captured goons they had procured from the abandoned houses in the neighborhood.
As got his company back into the relative safety of the fort, Miller met with Calvin to discuss what had happened.
Miller confessed, "It worked almost to perfection. They followed us just like you said they would."
"Of course" spoke Calvin, "I know their tricks."
"Alrighty mister know it all, what would be their next move?"
"They'll come looking for us, so we must prepare. And fast."
Hobbes, plus stragglers were the last in. Parking their catapults in the center of the compound, the tiger tried to relax wherever he could, on the soft snow to take a load off. That where Calvin found him.
Walking up casually, the tiger was alert but passive, letting his friend come close.
"How was it?" Calvin asked standing over his prone body.
"Fun, exhilarating" in a mono tone voice, his right arm bend and laying over his eyes.
"Did you count the bodies?"
"Sort of" he confessed, "I didn't particularly care to after twenty."
Nodding knowingly, the boy walked back inside to warm himself. Opening up the sliding glass door, he slipped in unnoticed as members of the Greys stacked up their arms against the walls, found a soft place to lay down and fell asleep or tried to nibble on pieces of dried jerky. For them, the day was over. From inside the dankness of Moe's room, Susie sat with her back against a dilapidated bed frame, note pad in hand. She sighed as her fingers carefully flipped through the many pages, moist and wrinkled from water and exposure. Taking up a pen, she slowly began to stroke away as she etched in more names of the garrison into her log book. An extra two dozen people to care for and she was all alone in her nursing chores. Susie wasn't asked to do it, she volunteered when it was needed and made no complaint. Going from person to person, all that she could find, she took down their names for safe keeping, then marked out those that were lost in the previous fight, at the Alamo. There was a lot of crosses.
Cheers broke out suddenly, and a mad race for the compound commenced. Curious, she put down the pad and looking through the sliding glass door to see what the commotion was about. Outside, members gathered around the heap as someone set a light to it. A smile came to her face. Soon, Susie joined the bunch with sweets and drinks she took out from storage. Their was little singing though, just cheers and smiles, everyone was too cold to sing. As it burned, Moe caught sight of pieces of metal that had turned red hot from the flames. He kicked out a slab of pipe, then held it in his hand, it had cooled off after being dunked in the snow. He was amazed that the metal had grown soft and could be molded to his liking. Inside his feeble mind, an idea struck. Driving the pipe back in, Moe fired it back up, brought it out, and began pounding the length with a stone. Calvin and Hobbes watched with curiosity as the gorilla pounded away at a good length of the pipe flat.
"Haw haw" rejoicing, "Look at that" holding it up.
With raised eyebrows, the two had nothing to say. What was it? Moe then moved off into his garage, the two followed.
This garage was dank, cold, and untidy. A disabled pinto, in bad need of care and paint, sat on jacks, boxes and cartons were stacked two or three high around the walls, the main door was jammed and full of indention. Moe stuck upon an idea for this pipe, and pulled out an old grind stone.
"Where did you get that?" Calvin asked.
"It's my paw's" Moe replied as he sat down. With one hand, he turned the handle and the stone began to turn, with the other, he carefully moved the blade across. Sparks flew off as the two touched. Gradually, it became an edge. Rolled over, he did it once again, till the face was completely sharp from hilt to tip. "Yeah, take a look at that." Moe laughed as he wielded his sword in the courtyard. It was still heavy, only someone like him could use it. "This will take the head off those twinkies."
A sword, he made a good length sword. Taking after his idea, others scavenged through the debris, taking pieces of steel, aluminum, and iron and began crafting swords of their own, throwing away their old spears and sharpened stakes for something much better. Miller also began to improve his situation indoors. Whilst the others outside his group were making swords from garbage, his bunch were making ammunition. Though lacking the special equipment needed, they refilled their pockets with their deadly .22s, following the instructions by what their fathers told them. Someone had either carried or had found, a sizable amount of pure powder, and using expended cartridges, began to refill and make new ones. It was a delicate process. A single spark or flame would ignite the loose powder and cause a fireball, though amusing to watch, but dangerous in doors.
As weapons were being made, the tiger went once over his catapults to look for stress fractures. So far, his stones were proving to be effective, but something else was needed. He began to think like an artillery man.
"What type of shells did they have?" he thought to himself. The answer soon presented itself.
Sitting in the fire, not far away, was a bowling ball. It was hollow for the fingers, and the idea struck, explosive shell.
"Of course" clapping two hands together. "Explosives"
Braving heat and flames, the tiger sifted through and found two pieces of worn pine, and, using his razor sharp claws, began to carve out two halves of a sphere, making sure that it was hollow and a hole on one side. Though taking several splinters in the process. All of this took place in the court yard where parties went back and forth, sharpening swords, building up the ramparts to the wall, or throwing more fuel on to the fire. not a single person was lax, even the sick and wounded were working, storing food, and nursing one another as Susie attempted to clean out the cave called Moe's room.
"Eureka" Hobbes exclaimed loudly as he held the two halves of his ball together. It was a perfect fit. Some glue and it was a perfect sphere. Then, it took some bargaining with the Greys and they allowed him to fill it up with their precious powder, then a wick made of paper was plugged into the hole.
Without fanfare, the tiger took his ball outside to an awaiting catapult where Calvin came up, curious as to what he was doing.
"I'm coming up with a new idea" he told his short companion.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Shell" showing him the wood ball.
"How exactly does it work?" Calvin asked as Hobbes placed it on the basket.
"Easy, I hollowed outcome wood, filled it with powder, now all I need is a light" and his eyes fell onto Calvin.
"What?"
With his white paws, he beckoned for a lighter he was sure Calvin had. Denying and reluctant, the boy finally gave up a small cheap lighter of plastic to his friend. His fingers were too big to handle such a small devise, so the honor fell to Calvin to light the wick. Unsure whether or not it would light or blow up in their faces, Calvin hesitated in the cold for a moment, then nervously held the flame on the paper. Slowly, it began to burn and he took flight, leaving Hobbes with no time to spare in jerking the lanyard and sending his shell sailing over the wall towards the street.
Snap
Weary eyes looked over the snow walls as the ball flew high and came down into the snow across the street, just shy of the tree line.
WABOOM!
A flash, some flame, and it was gone.
The ball erupted perfectly, sending deadly fragments far and in every direction.
"Success! We did it!" Calvin yelled, jumping up and down from the rampart.
"Now, we'll need only a few hundred more of those" Hobbes confessed.
Perhaps they didn't need to make more of THOSE per say, but Moe came up with an idea that was much more smaller but just as lethal, for snow men.
"My Paw has many bottles empty that we can use" said Moe, whom ventured into his parents room and came out soon after with both arms full of empty glass beer containers.
"What do you suggest we do with those?" Susie asked
"Give them a barbecue" Moe laughed.
With several others, Moe siphoned gas from their disabled pinto car in the garage, then mixed it with oil, filled each of the bottles with the mixture, then tore off wicks made of oily clothes.
"Voila, a marry cocktail"
"You mean a Molotov Cocktail" corrected Hobbes.
"Whatever"
With it's wick lit, Moe hurled it out, over the wall, hoping to hit the ice caked sidewalk, but his aim was awful and it landed harmlessly onto a pile of soft snow. As he cursed away, Miller took aim with a .22 rifle from a house window.
Click
Pop
The glass shattered, spilling the mixture, the wick did it's job and created a small inferno, much to the cheers of those in the fort. It worked, for the most part. It would be difficult to use those weapons in defense, since it would take a hard surface to break the glass, but Calvin came upon another novel idea.
"Why not place those around the perimeter of the fort?"
"The what?" asked a baffled Moe.
"The perimeter" frustrated.
Moe stared back blankly.
"The outside of the fort, you dolt"
Unfazed by the insults, the big gorilla pondered for a moment, but the idea never sank in. To Calvin, it was hopeless.
"Like teaching a chimp to talk" he grumbled, stomping away, having accomplished nothing.
The only other people he could talk to that could possibly understand what his message was Hobbes or Miller, but the tiger was busy in the construction of more shell and Miller was trying to sort through the mess in the house. Living quarters inside were not the Hilton. Every inch of space was occupied, both bedrooms, Moe and his parents, were filled, though no one wanted to be in either room for very long, complaining of foul odors. There were two windows that faced the front of the house. Both were blocked up with furniture, but left slits to fire through for the Greys with fire arms. All along the rest of the fort, similar work was being done to improve their defenses in case the goons tried to attack, which they were sure to do.
Working for the ill, Susie was relieved to get more bandages for the wounded, and medicine for the sick, which seemed to be growing in number from the cold. Food was now plentiful, enough for them to savor for a time. Beef, eggs, fruit, vegetables, and sweets which were a welcome commodity.
Cocktails were given to Billy, the color bearer, to be placed around the perimeter of the fort as Calvin prescribed. The snow was not too deep, just around three inches and soft, almost powder, allowing him to place these bottles, then lightly covered in white. watching them through the slits and firing ports of the home, the Greys laughed and celebrated.
One Grey confessed to another, "I bet we have them beat. This war is over."
RAWR!
Everyone snapped to attention.
Billy looked up, facing the tree line only 150 yards away. From it came a wall of solid mass.
"Good God!" he said to himself, then turned and ran for his life.
Calvin heard the roar as if it were a trumpet announcing a charge.
"Get your weapons! They are coming!" shouting down to the others.
Jumping up, Hobbes gathered his crew, "Hurry, move this south" he told them, pushing his weapons towards the barricade gate as another roar shook them.
"Here they come!" someone yelled. Like a dart, Calvin left the South wall and raced to the long north. A large group of goons slowly made their way down on to them. They were surrounded, again.
"Well, mister general" Hobbes shouted, "What do you suppose we do?"
"We fight!"
Inside the house, Miller got his company going. Rifles began popping, but the wave came through, across the street and into the yard, right over the bottles.
"Give me your rifle" Miller ordered. A Grey handed over his .22 and watched with curiosity as his leader carefully inserted it through a firing slit, then slowly squeezed off a shot. It ran true. Glass shattered, and flames fumed up. Another shot, and another glass broke, adding more flame, then another, creating a wall of flame that separated groups, those inside the wall and those outside. Those inside could not escape and those outside could not get in. Thus, it was a shooting gallery for the Greys as they plugged goon after goon with their .22s. But, once the flames died out, the walls came back, easily sweeping over he front yard. Their goals apparently were the front door and side gate. Running from place to place, Calvin heard the wild yells coming from the house, followed by the sound of popcorn being cooked.
Like a ram, goons were throwing themselves at door and windows trying to make them give way. They didn't. Learning from their mistakes, the children fortified their fort greatly. No matter how hard they tried, the door wouldn't give way. To top it off, Billy, having recovered from his shock, took the initiative, found a ladder and clambered onto the slippery roof. Bearing cocktails in a haversack handing from his hip, he took out one, lit it with a lighter, and began to drop them onto the crowded porch, much like Hobbes's cocktail at the Alamo. Both had the same effect. He stood, spouting oaths and throwing down bottle after bottle. Frightened by its flame, the goons began to back off. All was going well for them. No where along the fort was there a risk of a breach, plus, there was no casualties.
Mouting the South wall down below, Hobbes scanned to see where his catapults will have the most effect. So far, they were not needed, saving precious stone for a later time, but his keen eye took hold of someone. Atall looking goon watched them from near the tree line, just past the crescent moon clearing. Nothing appeared special about him, just a statue, unmoving. He wanted to take a shot this rather tall goon, with plumes of feathers made of snow attached to the back of his head, but a wave suddenly hit the barricaded gate, taking away his attention. More important matters were unfolding. Along the North wall, Calvin jumped from place to place, encouraging his friends to keep fighting. So far, not one goon had come close to the wall. They kept at a distance, near a grove of trees, slinging small ice balls at them that did nothing but chip at the walls or cause the defenders to duck occasionally. This long range slug fest had no course of action against what was happening behind their backs. Collision after collision, the front door began to buckle. Bracing it with their bare hands, Greys continued to fire back, slaying and wounding.
For ten minutes, it was a deadly stalemate. Goons wanted in, and the children wanted them out. As if by magic, they turned and fled. Stunned at first, the goons just turned and abandoned the encounter, leaving a great many dead and wounded behind to be "taken care of."
"We did it, by Gum" said Hobbes, jumping for joy. Cheers and cries swept the crowd. Another victory, perhaps it was decisive, maybe not.
As Calvin continued to watch along the length of north wall where a stalled attack was thwarted, Miller took hold of the boy by the arm.
"You were right about them. Now, we have our chance to end this war."
"What do you suppose we do?"
This last attack, it seemed, did not have the spunk and determination that befell the Alamo. Just a we are here, sign and they promptly disappeared before much damage could be done, then they slinked back to the woods.
With Miller prodding for action, Calvin tried to come up with a plan that would be decisive. If there was a fort out their, a main base for the goons, now was the chance to strike while they were weak and vulnerable.
"We must strike" concurring with Miller.
"Get Moe. I have a plan"
Hobbes upon hearing this: "Yikes"
Members of the garrison were bracing for another attack. Cocktails were being refilled, swords that were never used yet, were being sharpened to their extreme, and bullets recapped.
"Moe, get out here!" shouted Miller from the sliding glass door. Emerging like a slumbering dragon, Moe, clad in green wool parka, came to see what the shouting was about.
Moe asked as he stepped out, "Does that twinky have another attack?"
Indeed he did. Hobbes again was tapped to scout again, this time going a little further west, past the old clearing to find a dominant field to where they can place their catapults. As this happened, Calvin asked what weapons were left, what supplies.
Miller stated that he had a total of fifty individuals with about 400 rounds of ammunition left. not much. Moe had just around two dozen or so, added to that was Calvin's seven survivors. All total, this grand scheme relied on an army of just over eighty.
"This time" Calvin said, "We all go"
Huffing back on the double, Hobbes, between breaths, stated that he had found a great place in which to do battle with the goons.
Drawing it out in the snow, he marked a small hill just inside the tree line that was semi bare of trees. "It's small, but it's the best hill in the area" he said, "Plus, there are no goons to be seen."
"Can you make any more catapults?" Calvin asked.
"Perhaps just one more. Not much wood left"
Nodding, Calvin looked at Miller, then to Moe, but unsure.
"This is my plan is, to have Moe on the flank..." looking up after drawing a small line, Moe's face was blank, "Means you are on the end. Then the catapults in the center, and Miller on the right. It will be just like the battle before, just bigger, and this time we'll pursue and crush them."
"But, how will we fight? What or how do we attack?" asked Miller deeply concerned. "If they have large numbers, which they are sure to have, they can easily move around, surround and crush us, or perhaps destroy this fort, leaving us homeless.
"Not to worry. We'll give them enough bait to lure them, then have enough fire power to crush them."
"That part I like" Moe added.
"Gather our men, we fight as soon as they are ready."
Miller still was concerned, but followed along.
Now a fever swept the fort. Everyone moved, gathered up equipment, weapons, and listened as the plans were laid out in front of them. Knowing that everyone was needed for this fight, Susie volunteered her efforts, as did the sick and wounded, no longer willing to be cooped up in the house any longer. Calvin never lamented, he needed everyone and asked for her to help fill up more Molotov cocktails for Moe. Meanwhile, Hobbes pounded away with charred nails and wood. Gradually, another catapult took shape. "The miracle worker" as Calvin called him. 1 o' clock slowly crawled to two then three, did he finally complete some sort of semblance of a weapon. It was time to go. Carrying his rent banner was Billy, leading a small precession as the garrison, all of them, began to march out at 3 o' clock in the after noon. Sleds were attached to catapults containing additional rock, small bits that formed deadly canister fire.
Crossing the street wasn't a problem, no vehicles, no adults. Caution hit the group as they moved through, expecting an attack while they were vulnerable in the open, nothing happened. Then, just shy of the trees, the army came to a halt to form up before preceding any further. Moe and his bunch moved in an uncoordinated fashion to the far left, Calvin and his survivors took the center, and Miller and his Greys took right. Few chosen individuals then broke rank and move in towards the trees to probe for enemy activity. Soon, the main body would be behind them. This hill Hobbes discovered wasn't know to anyone. He commented that it was shaped almost like a pear, thus, it gained the name of Pear Hill, and it wasn't occupied, yet. As his skirmishers pressed deep, Calvin was ready to go as well, as was Miller, but Moe and his unruly bunch were disorganized, milling out in the field, all completely ignorant of orders and unwilling to follow. Standing dead center in the line, Billy planted his staff, made from a thin sapling and scoffed, waiting for the order.
Minutes passed, the people grew restless as Moe's colleagues ignored Calvin's wail.
"Those bafoons" Calvin cursed them.
Moe never made an attempt to control them, he let them brandish their weapons and begin to taunt goons that may be in the woods to come out and fight. They wanted their frosty blood. Elsewhere, snow began to be built up, building another wall. Where the Greys sat was a small rise. From there, it dipped slightly to Hobbes, then rose up again to Moe, so the catapults sat in the saddle. It was a small advantage they possessed, but it wouldn't amount to much in the face of hundreds of attackers. Scouts worked into denser and denser trees, then up the gradually inclining Peach Hill. There was silence, just the muffled crunch of snow underneath their feet. Calvin observed the wall of snow being built, said nothing, and did nothing but wait himself as his friend Hobbes carefully sighted each of the weapons to hit at the tree line. Then, there came a scattering of fire, and the scouts came running back, peel mell back to their line.
"Oh great" cursing under his breath. Knowing full well what was about to happen, Calvin got his group ready to fight. It was too late to retreat, and impossible to advance now. The goons were coming. Worried some that he and his friends would be annilhated, Miller called out, "We should retreat!"
But Calvin refused to budge. "If I die, I'll die facing my enemy" gritting his teeth.
With a wild roar, goons began to spill out from the trees. Glancing right, just in time to see a white wave hit Moe and his bunch, whom resorted to hand to hand with their new special swords. As they flailed away madly, limbs and heads severed with each swing, a much heavier wave struck the Greys, then it was Calvin's turn to be hit. All along the length of the line, the Goons swarmed the children. Walls were of no use here. those that were created were trampled down in this wild melee. Stones were thrown, sticks impaled, then it came down to fists and blades. Cocktails were no good, despite the numbers they had.
At the head of his band, Calvin shouted, "Die you goons!" and began swinging left and right a stake, taking off heads. Behind him, Billy flaunted his black banner, defying his enemy as the wave swept around them and completely encircled the group. "Holy! They got us!" cried Susie. no hope of relief could come to them. Both flanks were being overwhelmed. Even Hobbes, whom was loading canister after canister into his three weapons, was hard pressed as the goons inched their way closer into seizing them. That big nose gorilla called Moe kicked down one adversary, mounted it's carcass and began swinging his fists, knocking down more and more as those long, stick arms reached up to grab him. It seemed all lost, Calvin's wild gamble to find that enemy base had led not only him, but possibly the only survivors to their deaths.
"Loose!" came a cry. Then, a great many hail stones came down from the heavens, ripping into the goons, opening up gaps in their encirclement, allowing Calvin to break free. Looking down into the saddle, Hobbbes waved and smiled as his crew loading more shot. By that time, the Greys, spurred on by Miller, broke the back of the goons facing them, sending scattered survivors fleeing into the woods. Wanting to pursue, their eyes feel on the desperate straights of their friends just a few yards away. Faced with a desperate decision, pursue or attack? That choice was Miller's to make, and he did in a second. Jumping to the head of his friends, he waved his cap with one hand over him, yelling, "Follow me!"
Sweeping down from the left, firing their weapons as they went, the Greys moved across Hobbes, whom moved his fire now onto the tree line to kill survivors. Goons fighting to get Calvin turned, seeing their predicament, and tried to take the Greys head on, but their juggernaut could not be stopped. It was an amazing sight to see, the children charging down, weapons popping, stones being thrown, and sticks stabbing as the goons, apparently frightened and confused now tried to get away, fleeing towards the trees. Here, Hobbes pumped canister into them, "Keep going!" the tiger huffed as he personal loaded the rounds onto the strong arms. "They're on the run!" Calvin screamed in a hoarse voice, "Follow them! Get them! Kill them all!"
Others shared his sentiments, their hatred of the snow men and charged into the tree line after them. No coordination, now order, no discipline. Kids fanned out, running after the goons whom had no direction. Here would be one child, about 100 feet away would be three, then fifty feet further on would be another. Everyone became hopelessly scattered in their quest for vengeance. Seeing this, Hobbes had to stop his weapons from firing. Vincent, one of his crew, pleaded to let them fire, but the tiger stood firm, "We'll hit our own people" he replied calmly, "Just wait and a target will present itself."
Sure enough, one did. Peach Hill's summit just barely cleared the tops of the naked trees, and it was sparsely populated by any vegetation. Up there, standing as if it were a statue, was a tall snow goon, the tallest ever seen with snow plumes etching out from the back of it's sphere shaped head, arms clasped casually behind it's back. Hobbes saw it, the goon seemed to be watching the battle unfolding at it's feet.
"Get him!" Hobbes barked, "Solid shot!"
Picking up a bowling ball shaped stone, that weighed just as much, Vincent grunted as he placed it firmly on the strong arm as another gunner, Garry, sighted it carefully. That figure was perfectly sillouhetted against the now red sky. The sun was setting now, but that didn't stop the battle. Inside the woods came shrieks, cries, and groans as the children ripped into their foe with such savagery and audacity.
With his piece ready, Hobbes watched as the arm snapped and the stone was thrown, barely clearing the tree limbs. It flew low and slow, and they watched with gasps, thinking that the ball would crash short, but to their amazement, the ball came to land right beside that goon, whom looked at it for a second, then at Hobbes. Taking the hint, the goon turned and slowly rumbled off away, down the back slope. Gritting his teeth, Hobbes watched it's departure, then at the battle scene that was at his feet.
Slashing his way through and around trees, Miller halted at the base of Peach Hill and noticed that there was no one around. Everyone was hopelessly separated and milling about. He heard Calvin crying for them to rally, and he followed the voice, away from the hill, but not far. Walking thirty yards or so, he came upon a group of about two dozen, at the head was Calvin. Stragglers were coming in, but the boy was becoming impatient,
"We have them on the run! We must go now and kill the last of them!"
Others agreed, and as more came in towards his rallying calls, the group, the Children's Army, pressed on, up the base of Peach Hill. When the trees began to clear, Billy moved further up towards the head, his pace quickening as he neared the summit. As he did, other followed, starting ot as a quick step, then a jog, then a full fledged run as their adrenaline pumped, flush with victory. A wild cheer broke out, it was victory as they swarmed up the summit, only to find it barren, the goons have fled.
Still spurred on, the children moved across the top and began to work down the back slope when they were stopped in their tracks. A large mound of snow, topped with stakes lay there. Cautiously, those with fire arms went forward to investigate. From a distance, Calvin watched. What was this? Some type of outpost? It looked man made, but the stakes were pointed inwards towards the center of the small, square shaped enclosure that was scarcely bigger than three cars parked side by side.
"Come quick!" shouted a scout, and the party galloped up en masse to several lurking humans, huddled close together, their clothes in tatters, hunched over, shivering, their faces blue and white from exposure.
"Good gravy" exclaimed Calvin, "They are ours!"
He was right, one by one, fifty-six children, all under the age of ten, were taken out of the snow compound.
"Get them to the fort, as quickly as possible" ordering them, forgetting his own order of pursuit and destruction.
Billy and Miller stood on the summit, the former flapping his black flag, the lather blowing a frost covered whistle in their attempt to rally their scattered friends. When the liberated prisoners came trudging past, Miller was lost for words, the whistle dangled at the edge of his lips then fell to the ground as Billy was similarly stunned, stood motionless, their eyes watching them as they were marched back towards the tree line.
Waiting patiently was Hobbes plus a gaggle of stragglers that worked their way back to him, being the logical choice of familiarity. When the freed prisoners were moved out, Hobbes too was lost for words. In a hustle, they, the prisoners, were taken back to the fort where Susie began to immediately make a good stew of fresh beef and vegetables for their victors. Remaining behind to survey the battle, Calvin and Hobbes.
"That was fun" said Calvin, with a smile, perky.
"Yes, it was. Let's not do it again." Hobbes replied lowly.
"Agreed, but we fought bravely today"
As they talked, they walked. Moving along the rise starting from the Grey's post, sticks and small clumps of snow marked the fall of the goons. No longer, it seemed, did their wave attacks work. Now, the humans were the ones that were on the attack. The war had turned.