CHAPTER 22. OVERRUN

Scar was forced back against the wall, with Simba's handgun pressed up against his forehead. "Well you see, the pressures of leading a country..." Scar stuttered, but

Simba cut him off. "Are no longer yours. Step down or fight, your choice." Simba growled. "Must this all end in violence?" Scar said and reached into his pocket, there was a small transmitter he kept in there for an emergency, he would press a button and a support force would come to him. He pressed the button, and it signaled some of his soldiers downstairs who rushed up to his aid. Simba had no idea what he was doing but was starting to see that he was regaining his confidence. "I'd really hate to be responsible for the death of a family member...wouldn't you agree Simba?" Scar sneered, hinting at Simba's dark secret. "That's not going to work Scar, I've put that behind me." Simba said firmly. Scar turned his head towards Simba's team. "What about your comrades here, have they put it behind them? And you Nala...I wouldn't suppose he told you either." Scar said. "Simba, what the hell is he talking about?" Nala asked, suspicious.

"So you haven't told them your little secret...well now's your chance to tell them...to tell them who was responsible for Mufasa's death!" Scar said in a increasingly loud voice. Nala looked at Simba with wide open eyes. No...that can't be true! It's not like him. Nala tried to reassure herself. Simba looked at his squad who had all turned their attention to him, shocked by Scar's remarks. Simba realized EJ's camera was still on, recording the whole thing.

There was no point lying now. "I am." Simba sighed. He felt as though he'd just put a bullet through his own head and told his team to pack their things and go home, what he'd just told them was simply that they might as well live and suffer under Scar rather than fight for a murder that had been the real reason the country had been left to him in the first place. Sarabi got up off the ground and looked into her son's eyes. "It's not true...Tell me it's not true!" She said in disbelief. "It's true...I'm sorry." Simba confirmed. An evil smile swept across Scar's face. "You see? He admits it! Murderer..." Scar growled. "No it was an accident!" Simba said desperately. "If it weren't for you Mufasa would still be alive...Do you deny it?" Scar asked, already knowing the answer. "No but.." Simba felt fear growing inside of him. "Then you're guilty!" Scar cut him off. "No I'm not a murderer..." Simba started again but was cut off a group of Scar's soldiers bursting through the door to the foyer. They caught Simba's team by surprise and demanded that they drop their weapons and get on the floor. Simba's squad, including Nala, all followed the order and dropped to their knees with their hands up with no hesitation. They didn't try to fight, because that would achieve them nothing. Scar knocked Simba's gun out of his hands.

Simba was on his own now, and Scar knew it. Scar drew his Desert Eagle pistol and walked over to the squad. He yanked a radio out of EJ's pocket and switched it on. "Do you hear this?" Scar said wickedly.

"Overlord this is Bravo six, we are taking heavy fire and need evac NOW! Do you read me? We are being overrun and need...*BANG BANG BANG*...AAARRGGH!"

"That is the sound of your puny renegade army getting destroyed, did you really think you had a chance Simba?" Scar started, he had the gun pointed at Simba was slowly moving him towards the edge of the balcony. "You're in trouble again, and this time your old man's not here to save to save you...AND NOW EVERYONE KNOWS WHY!" Scar thundered and pushed him over the balcony's edge. Simba grabbed onto the railing before he plummeted to his death. Scar peered over the edge and saw him dangling there, helpless. Scar aimed his pistol and cocked it.

Cla-Chik...

Downtown Prideland City, Same time.

Weaver sat behind the burning truck, furiously reloading his rifle. From what he'd heard on the radio Squad Bravo Six had been completely wiped out, and most of the PRF was retreating from the military might of Scar. His platoon was pinned in the city square, taking a huge amount of enemy fire, he picked up the radio and shouted out above the noise of the battle. "Overlord this is Weaver, we are being overrun and need evac NOW!" He screamed. "We read you loud and clear, evac is five minutes out, Overlord out." The PRF command said on the radio. We'll be dead in five minutes. Weaver thought and picked up the radio again. "Five minutes ain't good enough, we have serious casualties and they need to be out of here RIGHT NOW!" He said again, but this time there was no response. Great, now we have to try and hold out here for five fucking minutes. Weaver knew that there was a very slim chance that his men could last that long, Scar's manpower was starting to show now, for every man Weaver shot, three more would take his place.

"They coming?" One of his soldiers asked anxiously. Weaver gestured for what was left of his platoon to come together. "Extraction ain't gonna be here for five minutes, so we need to hold out until then, I can't guarantee that everyone is going to live through this, so I'm going to say it now...It's been an honor fighting with you gentlemen. Now let's show these communist assholes what we're made of!" His men cheered and got ready for a serious firefight.

His machine gunner leapt out of his cover and fired a long burst at the incoming wave of Scar's forces. Weaver used the suppressing fire and sprung into the open, firing at anything that moved. He unpinned a grenade and lobbed it into the window of a building that was crawling with enemy soldiers. The window exploded and mixture of blood, debris, and brick was thrown in the area around it. He then reached for his M16 and fired several rounds at the shocked force. All of his bullets met their targets and the sudden aggressive move had surprised Scar's men; for the first time in an hour, they found themselves retreating. All of Weaver's men were in the middle of the open shooting their opponents as they ran.

Suddenly, a communist with a RPG (rocket propelled grenade) appeared from around the corner and pointed the shoulder-mounted weapon in their direction. "Oh shit...RPG EVERYONE GET DOWN!"

Everyone dived for cover but it was too late, the rocket flew towards them and exploded, sending everyone flying. When Weaver came to his senses he had realized he'd been dragged away from the open and to safety. He got up and looked around, in the middle of the road two of his men lay dead, and one was lying in a pool of blood, with his legs completely torn off by the blast. "H-help me!" The soldier pleaded, blood poured from his mouth as he spoke, but as soon as he was finished a bullet struck him in the neck and put him out of his misery.

Weaver looked down the road and saw Scar's army advancing yet again. His machine gunner was the only thing stopping them from swooping in and finishing them then and there. The man with the RPG raised his weapon again. This time Weaver shot him before he could deliver the deadly missile, and each time a man tried to get it, Weaver's bullets cut them down. He aimed for kills only, and not for suppression. He looked at his watch and saw the time; five minutes had passed. Come on and get here already. Weaver thought. Eventually he heard the relieving sound of rotors above him. Finally. He thought. But his relief was short lived, from around the corner one of Scar's tanks appeared and aimed it's main gun towards them. "MOVE NOW!" Weaver yelled and everyone scrambled away from their original hiding spot. The tank fired and the shell slammed into the wall, sending dirt and debris everywhere. The shockwave of the blast knocked Weaver off his feet and his ears rang inside his head.

The helicopter slowly started to descend in the middle of City Square, unaware of the tank not too far away. Weaver saw the tank aim its turret at the chopper, preparing to fire the deadly shot. Weaver frantically waved his arms at the chopper, trying to signal it away, but it was too late. The tank fired its giant cannon and the shell smashed into the chopper's side, sending it spinning into the ground.

There goes our Evac, Weaver thought and rushed over to the burning remains of the helicopter. He stepped into the wreckage and saw that the pilot and co pilot were dead, however there was a moaning coming from the other side of the wreck. Weaver clambered through the twisted metal and found a gravely injured side gunner lying on the ground. He feebly reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a blood stained envelope. "I-it's for my wife...give it to her and t-tell her that I..." The man stuttered. Weaver shoved the envelope back into his pocket and told him: "You're gonna give it to her yourself...C'mon soldier...we haven't lost yet." as he threw him over his shoulder. "AH! My back..." The man cried. "C'mon you gotta shake it off if you want get through this!" Weaver said through clenched teeth.

Weaver pulled out his M1911 sidearm and prepared for one final stand, he tossed his rifle to the wounded gunner. Scar's men swarmed in from all directions, and Weaver frantically shot at them, keeping them away. The two of them bravely held out against the massively superior communist army for several minutes, until they finally started to get overrun. "I'm out!" The gunner cried. Weaver reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his final rifle magazine. "Last mag... Make it count!" He shouted above the gunshots. The gunner nodded and continued firing at the horde of enemies closing in, he eventually fired the last of his thirty rounds and sighed. He then placed the rifle neatly on his lap, as if accepting defeat. Weaver continued shooting furiously at the enemy army closing in until a bullet struck him in the arm. "ARGH!" He cried out and collapsed down on the dirt. Can't give up...I'm still only 22; I'm too young to die. He sat up and fired several feeble shots at the tank rolling closer and closer to the remains of the helicopter. As he shot he wondered, if Simba had succeeded in getting Scar, if Nala's baby was okay, if he was going to die for a reason and most importantly, if he had been a good man. The world moved in slow motion for him, and due to the pain his reaction time became slower and slower. He failed to notice the infantryman with an AK-47 to his right, and the soldier fired a deadly burst at him.

Three bullets caught Weaver in the chest, and he slumped back down onto the ground, floating in and out of consciousness. He looked one last time at the tank rolling towards him and felt life starting to slip away. Weaver's final thought on earth before he died right there was: I was a good man, without a doubt. I'm dying a hero.