This is the last chapter of build-up. I am quite excite.
Review replies;
LightandDarkness Warrior: Yeah, just a bit. ;) Thanks for reading!
TweenisodeOrange: Probably. :) Also, I'm afraid it's too late - his cockiness has reached critical levels. Thanks for reviewing!
SOLmaster: Such is the burden of being a genius. =P Thanks for the review!
Zim'sMostLoyalServant: Oh, that shoe will drop, don't worry. Thanks very much!
Chapter Three: The Last Minute
"...alright, let's try this again," said Calamitous.
He and Crocker charged at the prison gates, carrying the Box Ghost as a battering ram. There was a loud crash, and all three slammed into the gate, but nothing happened.
"Well, that didn't work," grumbled Plankton, standing well back with his arms crossed, "What now?"
The prisoners had escaped their cells (the power had gone out not long after Walker left – as it turned out, energy walls didn't work without power) but had so far failed to get out of the prison itself. The walls were too high to climb, and the floor was concrete so they couldn't dig their way out. They were stuck – and there was a very real fear that they wouldn't be out by the time the Warlord arrived.
"Okay," wheezed Crocker, "I think I heard the lock break. We just need one more charge. What do you say?"
"I am the Box Ghost!" thundered the Box Ghost, "No door can resist my cardboard wrath!"
The Syndicate collectively facepalmed.
"I'll take that as a yes," said Calamitous, sighing, "Okay...three...two...on-"
The gate burst open.
A row of eight-foot tall ghosts marched in the gates, aiming massive guns at the prisoners. Each of these ghosts wore grey steel helmets, gas masks and long trench-coats. Their eyes glowed red, and steam seemed to seep out of the edges of their masks. Their weapons were a rusty red, with massive barrels that glowed bright yellow. Behind them, wispy, blob-like shadows soared through the gates, flying around the prisoners as they backed into the courtyard.
To the left and right, the walls burst open, and more soldiers and shadows emerged from the holes. In seconds, the prisoners were trapped between them and the wall of a blockhouse behind them.
"...well, it's open," said Plankton, nervously.
"Convicts!"
A ghostly figure strode through the soldiers in front of them, coming to a stop in front of the prisoners. He wore a very large bicorn hat and a blue-and-white eighteenth-century uniform. He calmly put one hand behind his back and tucked the other in the coat of his jacket.
Calamitous shook his head.
"Are you kidding?" he spluttered, "The Warlord is..."
"Non," replied the man, "I am not the Warlord, merely a lieutenant."
He began to pace in front of the prisoners.
"My name is Napoleon Bonaparte," he said, "You may have heard of me. I am a general and recruiter for the Warlord's armies."
"Napoleon?" gasped Penelope Spectra, who was towards the front of the crowd.
"C-can I have your autograph?" stammered Plankton.
Napoleon stopped, and turned to look the prisoners in the eye.
"I am here to offer you a choice," he stated, "Join our grand army and stand side by side with your ghost brethren...or suffer the consequences."
"What consequences?" demanded the Box Ghost, "How do you plan to destroy my boxy..."
"Who are you?" snapped Napoleon.
"I am the Box Ghost!" proclaimed the Box Ghost, raising a fist.
Napoleon nodded.
"Kill him."
The ghost soldiers aimed their weapons. The Box Ghost threw his hands in the air.
"I-I was only kidding!" he shouted, "It-it was a joke!"
Napoleon rolled his eyes and raised an arm. The soldiers lowered their guns.
"So," he sneered, "Do we have an accord?"
"W-well yeah," gulped Crocker, "Bu-but we're not actually ghosts."
"Don't worry," replied Napoleon, "You will be."
He pointed to the prisoners. The shadows soared at them and began to circle around them. They were slow at first, but they grew faster and faster until they were a blur ringing around them.
"Soldiers," said Napoleon, "What does the Warlord demand of you?"
"Fealty," replied Calamitous, his eyes turning red.
"Uh...Finbarr?" gulped Plankton, "What're you-"
He shuddered as his eye changed colour.
"Loyalty," he growled.
"Obedience," added Crocker, his eyes changing colour behind his glassed.
"Talent," said the Box Ghost.
"Ruthlessness," finished Spectra, smirking as her eyes changed.
"Very good," nodded Napoleon.
He turned to his men.
"Gentlemen," he snapped, "Sound off!"
The soldiers launched into a marching chant.
"We are soldiers of the Warlord, we march in rank and file,
We have no shred of mercy to the foe whom we revile,
We fall upon the enemy like waves upon the sand,
We are the grim destroyer that descends upon their land,
The fire rolls beside us as we beat the Devil's drum,
The hellish sound before which none can help but to succumb,
We are the violent avatar for all your greatest fears,
We are the Warlord's Army, we care not for your tears."
"...we care not for your tears," Fletcher read from the file, "Geez, they could use a PR department."
He sighed and threw the file away.
"Well, this was a waste of time," he muttered.
The Man in the White Suit's throne room was still mostly intact, although bits had been stripped away by the CIA for 'testing'. What remained was a few notes regarding the Warlord's forces, but nothing on his plans or his goals.
"What do we do?" asked Thompson, "We might be able to get back to Washington before..."
"Out of the question, Jonah," snapped Fletcher, "This is the largest city in the country. We don't leave until the Warlord does."
He began to pace back and forth by the window.
"Colonel Atkinson sent us here for a reason," he said, "It can't just have been to dig for intelligence. There's gotta be something..."
"Maybe he wants us to find allies?" asked Thompson.
"And where, pray tell, are we gonna find them?" demanded Fletcher, "We're in a city of thirty million! Where..."
He trailed off as Thompson pointed behind him.
He turned around, looking at a modern-looking tower with a single letter A on the top.
"...you gotta be kidding me."
"Hey Timmy," said Jimmy, walking into the Fenton's kitchen, "You wanna go to New York?"
"No," grunted Timmy.
"Too bad."
He threw a newspaper onto the table.
Timmy, Dani and Spongebob had been sitting in the kitchen eating lunch. Downstairs, the others had been preparing a variety of ghost weaponry for the Warlord's arrival, taking shifts to eat.
Timmy grabbed the newspaper and dragged it over.
"Humanoid robot sighted over New York City; Stark questioned," he read, "How does this concern us?"
"Look at the picture," replied Jimmy, pointing at a photograph beneath the headline.
Timmy and Dani leaned over it.
"...is that Jenny?" quizzed Dani.
"Yep," nodded Jimmy, "And I want you to go find her."
"Pass," grumbled Timmy.
"We'll do it," nodded Dani, putting a hand over Timmy's mouth, "We might need her help fighting the Warlord."
"Might?" said Jimmy, "Guys, we need everyone we can get. Danny might not take the Warlord seriously, but I do."
"How exactly are we getting to New York?" demanded Timmy.
"I'll key it into your recallers," replied Jimmy, "Finish lunch and meet me out front."
"Aye aye, Jimmy!" exclaimed Spongebob, jumping to his feet and saluting.
"Not you, Spongebob," said Jimmy, "You stay with us."
Spongebob deflated a little and sat down.
Atkinson and Richardson sat in a helicopter, looking at their watches.
"Twenty minutes, sir," stated Richardson.
"Here we go," whispered Atkinson.
AN: I couldn't resist putting Napoleon in something. He won't be a main character, but he's there and I'm happy.