The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet


(A/N A longer chapter, as we near the end of the Second Act. I can't think of much else to say, as I believe this chapter's self explanatory, delicately trying to balance humour with action…or so I hope! Well, rather than waste your precious time reading an author's note that has absolutely no purpose of being…let's go straight to the second last chapter of the second instalment of the FlatFeet Saga)

Chapter 11: Tightening the noose

Dark had his arms folded neatly across his chest. Mon stood next to him, gazing up at the sky. With a soft flutter and a small gust of wind, Ricy landed in front of them. He stretched his wings before folding them behind his back. He shook his head.
"I couldn't see anything."
Dark snarled. He was getting fed up. WWW ran out of his hut, prancing wildly, a wooden bowl in his hands.
"At last! AT LAST! In my secret lab I've finally found the antidote of Hepi...Hepitata...Hepitit...The funny named sickness thing!"
"At least he's stopped referring to himself in the royal plural," Mon muttered.
"Tryyyyyyy some..." WWW drawled, shoving the bowl close to Ricy's face. Ricy turned a few shades greener.
"No…seriously, I uh...don't have Hepatitis A...All fine."
"But you mussssst!" WWW crouched down and started eating. "Somebody's been a rockin'...a sleepin' in the shadows that shift in my forest...yessss..."
Ricy leaned towards Mon and Dark.
"I think all this time from civilisation short wired his brain or something..."
"No **** Sherlock…"
WWW jumped up excitedly and chattered.
"Why! That's my Panther!" he pointed towards Dark, got up and grabbed Dark in a firm bear hug, "Why no gabble babble, Bobby? Bibble dibble dotty?"
"Don't touch me."
Their radios crackled into life. They recognized the voice on the other end at once.
"Sarge…" said Ricy.
*Attention all units! All units! Get your asses over to Woodchester, location…* Sarge rattled off the location in degrees, *Both the Squirrel Army and Tediz Air Force units are on their way to put FlatFeet to sleep…permanently! I wanted everyone there five minutes ago… Hustle!*
The Panther turned from WWW and looked to the others. They looked back at him. He felt somewhat rejuvenated after seeing their faces and hearing their conversations. This wasn't the time for those kinds of things, though. They had to get to Woodchester and fast. He thought for a second and remembered something. Everyone looked at him as he unsheathed his sword and cut down a few bushes. They then saw what lay hidden behind it all. There was a line of jet-black motorcycles.
"A little present I left myself a long time ago…"
Shooting WWW with a tranquilliser and securing him to the back of a bike, they revved up and sped off.

Medical Officer Renato "The Reverend" Mon looked to his right as he sped towards their target location. He spied a large billboard.
::Woodchester Home of the Lumberjacks::
::pop. 3200 people::
A giant FlatFeet sized hole had been ripped through the sign. Mon thought of the tiny, fragile cylinder with the tranquillising serum inside it. He took a deep breath and quickly made the sign of the cross.
Even if Sarge hadn't given them the exact location of the city, they would have no problem locating it. The quiet forest retreat was aflame, a giant red tongue licking the smoke above it. The bikes screeched to a stop next to the others. Snickers had dropped them off via chopper, before flying off to get refuelled. With the Tediz Air Force on its way, Sarge had ordered air support. Further off State cops were cringing behind the overturned wreck that was their police car. They looked out towards the 'battle scene'.
FlatFeet stood in the centre of all the destruction, roaring with primal rage. One unlucky officer managed to get a noose round his neck. FlatFeet yanked him close and flung him over his shoulder, as easy as if the Squirrel was a rag doll. Sarge surveyed the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Chael positioned on a roof, sniper at the ready. Oreos was in charge of the main spearhead assault. They would surprise FlatFeet from the south, giving Chael time to shoot FlatFeet and leave him out for the count.
It was all simple, effective. It would be over before the Squirrel or Tediz Army arrived.

Chael lined up the shot. With the tape in the mail and his mind clear, he watched as Oreos and the others fired bullets that ricocheted harmlessly off of FlatFeet's tough hide. So far the state cops and Army units had stayed away from FlatFeet, but seeing the 99th take on the behemoth spurred their courage. Sarge saw them coming.
"****," he swore, "Chael! Take the shot! Now!"
Chael held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

A brain lapse is when to many things happen unexpectedly and suddenly. Your brain blanks out for a second and tries to comprehend what is going on. This is what happened to most of the 99ers at that point in time.
Chael, at the expense of a large chunk of FlatFeet's tendon, discovered that someone, most probably someone who wanted FlatFeet dead, had switched the ammunition. The 99ers were caught between the gathering Army, and the dark black jets that screeched overhead meant that the Tediz Air Force had arrived. The Tediz stared down at the gathering Squirrel forces. They had not expected them to be here. The Army stared at the wounded FlatFeet, the Tediz planes and the armed 99ers.
FlatFeet suffered the most brain lapse. In all his pain and confusion, primal survival instincts kicked in, his main train of though being:
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! GET THE **** OUT OF HERE!"
Roaring in pain and confusion FlatFeet knuckle-walked into the nearby forest.
"We've gotta split up!" Mon yelled. "I've got an antidote vial left…I'm going after FlatFeet! You guys stay here and keep everyone out of my way!" Mon turned to leave. Sarge grabbed his arm.
"Doc!"
"Yeah Sarge?"
Sarge paused.
"Take care."
Mon nodded and ran, his white medical coat fluttering behind him as he vanished into the undergrowth.

"All right boys! It's just us! You all heard the good Reverend…" Sarge spat, and pulled up a rectangular backpack he had brought with him. He unzipped it.
There she was. Beautiful.
M35 Heavy Duty Semi-Automatic Sawed Off Shotgun.
"Nobody ****s with our Platoon!" he yelled. "Attack anyone who tries to go after FlatFeet. Knock out the Squirrels and eliminate Tediz hostiles."
The Platoon broke up and ran in various directions.

Sarge, Oreos and Pyst were running with their heads ducked.
"How do we take on the Tediz Air Force with these pea-shooters?" Oreos yelled. The Tediz started dropping rows of explosives. A part of the woodland town blew up in a ball of fire.
"That's what's gonna make this one hell of a ride!" Pyst crowed.
Pyst loaded a fresh ammo belt into his M-249. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled out a rocket launcher.
"LET'S KICK SOME AIRBORNE TEDIZ ASS!!!"
"Where'd that rocket launcher come from?" Oreos asked.
"I had it in my pocket."
"In your pocket... how?"
"I dunno. The same way James Bond can store 50 different guns in his suit in Golden Eye 64? Now lets have less talking, and more, MINDLESS, MAYHEM!!!"

FlatFeet ran through the forest. His mind was taken over by rage and bloodlust, but he was still as intelligent as he was before this happened. He was not running. He was formulating a sneak attack on the army.
"Bastards…" FlatFeet's mind kept repeating.
A Tediz jumped up in front of him. It rasped a threat before loading its rifle.
"Fool..." FlatFeet said, the words guttural and enraged. He placed his hand on the Tediz chest, and drove his fist straight through. He roared.
"Revenge…" he mouthed, taking off again.

Sarge and the other members of the Platoon stood in the path of the Tediz Air Force. They watched as the Tediz planes flew right over their heads.
"Well, that wasn't quite as climatic as thought it was gonna be," Ricy said.
"So, uh, what do we do now?" Squeaky asked. Chael ran to rejoin the others, having spent the use of his sniping skills. WWW held Dark tightly round the arm, babbling incoherently. The Panther could stand it no longer. He spun round and smashed WWW in the head with his palm, then raised his leg in the air and cracked WWW in the jaw, sending him face-first into a pile of debris. The Tediz shakily got to his feet, the glassy look in his eyes now vanished.
"What the hell was that for?!" he asked, finally brought back to his senses.
"Shut up," Dark smirked, "I healed you."

Two Apache Longbows flew out from behind the mountains and a large barrage of missiles was launched at the nearest Tediz planes. The planes crashed to the ground, Tediz emerging from the wreckage on fire.
"SWEET!" Pyst yelled. He gunned down the Tediz and shot their corpses. Suddenly, the pilots of the Apaches radioed Sarge.
"Hey Sarge. Did you miss us?" Snickers asked coolly. A second voice, far more feminine, added:
"Did you boys think we were gonna let you have all the fun?"
"Hello Dana," Sarge said. Deja's Apache gave a little dip, her way of waving, before turning round to chase after the other planes. Sarge got back to business. "All right, you two keep knocking those planes down! We'll take out an survivors and paratroopers!"
"10-4 Sarge."
The Platoon broke up again, continuing to keep people away from the Forest, and away from FlatFeet. Sarge's radio burst into life. It was Deja and Snickers. Sarge looked up. One of the T-18s had fired a missile at of the Apaches.

*Mayday! Mayday! I got a live wire on m' tail! Somebody, take 'er out! Snickers!*
*No can do Deja! Repeat, negative! Can you shake it off?!*
*Snickers you ***! It's friggen heat guided! Shoot the damn missile!*
*I'm outta ammo! Two T-18s on my tail...I can't do anything!*
*Gimme a gad-damned BREAK! There is no way I'm gonna out run this *****! Ground units! GIMME A ******* HAND!*

"Chael! Aim for the rocket!" Sarge barked. He whistled to Pyst and Pyst tossed Chael his rocket launcher.
"Don't miss, we've only got one!" Oreos added, firing at the Tediz parachuting out of the sky.
Chael nodded and took aim whilst the other three watch anxiously. He lined up his sights on the heat seeker. His finger tightened around the trigger. Sarge spotted a T-18 coming in low and hard at 9 o'clock.
"INCOMING!!!"
The T-18 opened up with its machine guns. The soldiers scrambled, yet Chael didn't flinch. He concentrated on his target amidst the chaos and opened fire. The rocket screamed towards the heat-seeker, now only inches from Deja's Apache…

-WHA-BOOM-

The rockets collided, Deja's chopper rushing to help Snickers with the remaining Bogeys.
Oreos spotted the T-18 coming around for another strafe.
"Aw ****! Not again!"

*Thanks Chael. Here's a lil' thank you present. It's a bit shabby but it'll do...*
A missile slammed into the back of the T-18, sending it ploughing through the ground, its tail ablaze. The four Squirrels leapt out of the way in the nick of time. Mounds of dirt flew through the air, covering Chael in a dark brown mud. He looked up. The Squirrels had finally given up on FlatFeet and were now turning to the Tediz. The Tediz were losing. Now all their hopes lay with their Medic and his vial of antidote…
*Like the present?* Deja asked.
Chael smiled moments before he blacked out.