A/N: As of now, I'm going to put all the chapters's numbers in Roman numerals, as I'm trying to stay close to my own history sense and the origins of the numbers of the world ASAP!
Anywho, besides that, this chapter will only have 2 parts this time, but they will be both long in detail, the 2nd one will be longer than the first.
And if any fanfiction or any other authors on YouTube or elsewhere want to narrate my stories, you can and I will not put any copyright strikes on your channels, as I will make sure it would be 1,000% free for any author to narrate my stories, both now and in the future. And also, several characters from Call of Duty will be in the next chapter as the story goes on, but the United Nations will be in this, along with the alternate nations of the world and et cetera.
Anyways, enjoy the chapter and as always, the story!
Chapter V: A Daring Betrayal Of Nature.
Part I: Moving Across The Columbia Again.
As morning broke and the sounds of roosters, chickens and faint helicopter blades signaled the coming of the Sun, the Armies of General Sworder and the entire GWCEF force woke up, ready for the big day, battles and most of all and importantly to them; to meet up with the big squadrons.
But first, they had to get across the Columbia on wooden boats. And they already had the boats suitable for the Columbia River, acting a little rough this morning.
And the separate armies, both large and small, thought it would remain rough for the rest of the day and so on, so forth.
"Well, a little rough introduction to our morning.", Sworder spoke out to Custer, as he got up from his own sleeping bag on the ground of the command tent, groaning as he did so.
"You're right, Sworder.", Custer groaned out, before getting up and cracking a few bones in his back as he did so.
"Right...", Sworder whispered, before grabbing his coffee cup and taking a sip from it, smelling the fresh smell of hot coffee as he drank the coffee, easily satisfied with its taste.
"Alright, mates.", Thompson said as he came into sight of the 2 men. "Everyone else is ready for battle and ready to move across the Columbia. Captain Anderson and his fleet are currently shelling Seattle as we speak and as far as we know, O'Leary, McGregor, Strutton, Schnell, Ford and Wendy are still at Strutton's household and they are getting ready to move out, with their own damned boots on the ground."
"Good news and good advice, Aussie.", Custer said, making sure that he knew Thompson was an Aussie and not a Brit, even though Sir Thompson liked to mock the Brits at times when he thought of as comedic or so the man thought. Besides, he'd been doing stuff both comedically and with the armed forces for over 45 years. How else would the man be able to know such smart stuff or remember things from the past, especially 20 years back?
"Either way, I got a transmission from someone over the radio.", Sworder said.
"From whom?", Thompson asked, curiosity getting the better of him, as per usual, it did.
"Your old task force. Task Force 141.", Sworder said, with a quiet smirk of happiness on his face.
"Wait, my old task force?", Thompson asked curiously.
"Yep, at least they're coming to help our armies in a few hours. They're on the other side of this cursed River.", Sworder spoke up.
"Well, at least that's true...", Thompson sighed.
"Might as well get the cavalry ready, gentlemen.", Custer said, before leaving the tent to get his famed and fearless cavalry ready for battle, action and bravery for God.
"One last thing, George.", Sworder said.
"Yes, General?", Custer said to Sworder.
"Who do you think we actually are?", Sworder said.
"Well... we are true American Bastards, Sworder. I can't lie about that.", Custer said with a chuckle in his deep, yet somewhat satisfying voice.
"Right, George... you're correct about that. We are pure-blooded American Bastards.", Sworder said.
"Indeed, General.", Custer said, before getting on his horse and Sworder getting on his horse
"So, where do we intend to head to next, Master of the Cavalry?", asked Sworder.
"Oh, don't you worry, General.", Custer said with another chuckle in his voice. "We're going to Eugene. Then, that way, we can take Salem and then reach Astoria, before the 82nd and 101st Airborne both get there, as per usual."
"Right... but we might have to go north and then south to get to Eugene...", Sworder said.
"Wait... are you suggesting when we get near Eugene, we're going to take the Applegate Trail?", Custer said.
"Yes, from the South, we'll attack and then siege the city before doing the same with Salem, and then rush headways for Astoria.", Sworder said, explaining the whole plan to Custer and Murray behind, who was drinking a mug of Irish Guinness Beer, his favorite Irish beer.
"Right, General.", Murray said. "I wonder what else we would be able to do... attack small and discharged brigades?"
"Hmm. By discharged, you mean far from the front line, right, Murray? Because that way we can get a whole crapload of information out of those fools who are far from the front lines.", Sworder said, sounding like he was about to swim into the Columbia with his horse.
"Yes, Sworder, my lad.", Murray said. "As of course, if we attack the discharged brigades far from the main action, the rebels' commanders won't even see it coming, at all."
"Right, the rebels can light their cigars and drink their fine cheap whiskey and beer and toast dinner... while we make a surprise charge.", Custer said, knowing the rebels wouldn't know of the massive army coming before it was too late.
But, in the distance, a sniper for the massive army, Corporal Kevin Robbins, got onto a tree branch and saw an enemy sniper across the river. He quickly took a shot off his rifle, with no scope, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the enemy sniper and there wasn't any more of a glow from the trees across that swelling, singing river, as Robbins himself thought of it.
"Well, that's one damned enemy sniper done with.", Robbins said quietly, as he breathed in and out of his mouth, due to the air being cold and almost nearly freezing as a result of the air.
"Phew, you got another one, Robbins.", the Corporal's subordinate, the famed Aussie, Technical Sergeant Mark Stevens said. "If we see any more, mate, you just pull the hammer back on that rifle and pull that damn trigger until they're all done, then we rush for the hills with my Pontiac Trans Am until we reach the rebels' command post and fire machine guns out of nowhere, as if we're rushing out of hell. They won't even know we're coming with a force split up and that small, mate."
Robbins slowly chuckled as he saw the army advancing towards the river and where they were, as he spoke to the Aussie in his Southern cowboy-sounding accent. "If we can win this rebellion by the end of the month, then, Aussie, I'll make sure you have a beer per se, before we head back to Australia and roam the damn outback, and we might as well live there or live in the Mojave Desert or the Sahara."
The 2 men jumped down from the tree where they were at at the current moment.
Eventually, they reached the ground with soft thuds on the grass.
They flew a green flare, meaning that it was friendlies and it was safe to pass, as the men knew that there was only one bridge, The Settlers' Bridge, named after the settlers of Oregon and The West Coast, who came from Eastern America as the Americans started their Western Expansion and Manifest Destiny towards the Pacific through different trails, the most famous being the Oregon Trail, especially in 1848.
Otherwise, what else could the army have done if there wasn't a bridge? Swim across? They'd drown. Run towards the next bridge? Too far away. Or something else more entirely, building boats or small rafts from wood. However, that would have been too dangerous, especially with the rough waves of the Columbia River on this damned cloudy day.
"Of course, mate.", Stevens said to Robbins once the mighty and expert pro sniper had finished his sentence, as Robbins had gained himself nearly 100 kills as a sniper at this point, he gained the nickname and always a funny one as he thought of it until he was going to pass.
The Army called Robbins"The True American Bastard", as he'd gained nearly 100 kills and at this point in time.
He now had 98 confirmed sniper kills as he kept track of them in his special diary and as crosses on his satchel, while he'd always like to grab a cigar every now and then, due to his love of cigars, just like how the bankers and rich men of the late 1800s and early 1900s loved and smoked cigars.
And he'd never forget that, as long as he was on the Earth, a purely-blooded American, yet with a Southern Accent, as he was from Northern Texas.
And of course, the man had never forgotten about his friends or family, even as he was sent to fight in, what Robbins called, "this puny and idiotic rebellion."
And the rebels sure as hell weren't happy about the comment and their nickname for him was "American Snipin' Bastard", as they called Robbins at the time, before giving him an even rougher nickname tenfold.
"Well, then. Let's continue this march.", Robbins said, in his tough-sounding and tough-minded Southern Accent, as per se.
"Indeed.", Stevens said, hoping to gain some momentum with Robbins, despite the men being the smartest snipers of the late 2010s and, most importantly, they had different accents.
"Hmm.", Robbins guessed. "I'd rather keep that "indeed" in your own great and smart mind."
"I guess you're right about that...", Stevens said, before cracking his back and starting to walk onto The Settlers' Bridge itself, per se.
Eventually, the whole army would catch up with the 2 master snipers on The Settlers' Bridge and they quickly crossed it, before any action could take place on that small bridge, quickly sneaking across it by ducking down low.
"By the way, mate... can we end this damned reign of corrupt politicians in these once great United States?", Stevens pointed out to Robbins, who quickly turned his head towards Stevens.
"Why would you ask that? Once this damned rebellion ends, Sworder's going to make sure his great brother, a Lieutenant General and another Lieutenant Colonel, Johnny Mitchell, his cousin, are installed as President and Vice President, and Vice Versa, fellow cowboy.", Robbins said.
"We don't say cowboy down under, mate.", Stevens said to Robbins with a little sarcasm. "I'd rather not use the word cowboy to make my life like a miserable nightmare, or to call me a damn coward. And I'm serious, Kevin. Don't. Call me a cowboy ever again. Got it, mate?"
Robbins turned his head again, only to see the army 100 feet near the bridge itself and quickly turned his head towards Stevens again, only noticing that both of them were on the other side of the bridge, the rebels' side of it.
"Well, we are here. Washington.", Stevens said, holding a cigarette while puffing the smoke from it out of his mouth.
"Indeed... the state of "The Father Of Our Country" and the First President, George Washington.", Robbins said, taking a drink from his flask of Irish whisky. "Damn, this is good as hell... at least I'm a fellow Irishman on the inside."
"Jesus... the damned landscape is beautiful as heaven itself.", Robbins said, while seeing the entire army following behind them starting to cross the 1,000-foot wide bridge behind them.
"Might've been a good and better idea if we used a railroad, mate...", Stevens said, tossing his cigarette into the Columbia.
"What other options do we have, my friend?", Robbins said. "This goddamned rebellion has gone on for 16 years now, in the Backcountry... but now, it feels like our whole army has been dragged down to a hell of umbilical proportions, to be exact. Rather, but rather, my friend... it feels like we're in a place I know all too well from my childhood... the Twilight Zone."
"You ought to bring up that show, mate?", Stevens said, before chuckling a little, to the near displeasure and scoffing of Robbins.
"Don't underestimate that damn show.", Robbins said. "That show's a masterpiece of tales of mystery, creepiness, Sci-Fi and suspense... all packed into one. Only if Rod Serling had put Alfred Hitchcock on the show... only if he did."
"Eh, either way.", Stevens said, with his funny Aussie accent.
With Sworder and his fellow army crossing the bridge, Robbins and Stevens looked back to them and then back towards the woods and pointed their weapons ahead of them after hearing a weird strange rustling noise. By the time the whole army had crossed the bridge, the rustling had stopped.
"Shit.", Sworder cursed under his breath, seriously coming to his realizations, realizing what was causing the rustling.
Custer looked towards the bushes, with his powerful .38 caliber revolver raised, before Sworder put his hand up.
"Don't shoot, George. I know what that thing is... and what it means. Remain quiet, people.", Sworder said with intensifying pressure in his voice.
"Is it a skinw-", Robbins said, before being cut off by Custer.
"Don't say that word, you idiot! If you say it, it's power grows, across the world even. That's what Native American Legend says anyways. I believed it...", Custer whispered to Robbins, still holding the powerful revolver in his right hand and an eyeglass in his left hand, the hand.
"You're right, George. And Kevin, the reason why he shut your mouth the hell up is because... well, you know. It's a cursed word, especially by the Natives. And I believe them, as I respect them. And I don't care what idiots say. I believe all Native American Legends are real in their own damned ways, as I have Native American in me. I'd rather call it a Raker or a Whistler or a Whisker or whatever the hell I'd want to call it. Just, don't say that cursed word again, alright?", Sworder said to Robbins, supporting Custer's words tenfold.
"R-right, sir. It's just... my grandpa and brother told me never to say that word. That's why I say half the word before saying Rake.", Robbins stuttered out. "You know I'm Native American as well, right, sir?"
"I know, Corporal. That's why I respect you. And I know you respect me, so that is much appreciated. But, I know that you are Native American, Corporal. Same with my infamous friend, Captain Daniel Broderick. The man's a damn legend, but he doesn't say the word also, as he is Native American and I respect him and he respects me. And, by God's Grace, the man survived 20 different encounters with different creatures, most notably the ones I'd call the Rakers. But once, he saw a Wendigo, or as I like to call it, The Whisker. But, as you might've guessed by now, it wasn't a ghost or that sort of thing. It WAS a goddamn Whisker.", Sworder said, giving a sort of backstory to Robbins, as he drank from his tin, metal and silver whisky flask and let out a heavy sigh as a result of talking too much.
"So, where are we headed, Sworder?", asked Custer, taking a sip from his tin flask of brandy and lighting a pipe, while putting bullets in his 2 six-shot Colt and Smith and Wesson revolvers, while Robbins and Stevens looked at each other, not bothering to say a word.
"Well, here's the plan, George; we rush through to Eugene, but I heard the rebels have a large encampment somewhere around the towns of Post and Powell Butte.", Sworder said to Custer, pulling out a miniature map of Oregon. "That's where they all are currently. And as of yet, the scouts have told me they haven't made a move and the towns are completely barricaded by the Rebels themselves."
"Which town is more heavily barricaded?", Custer asked, hoping to make a game plan.
"Post is the town that's more heavily barricaded, George... none of our spies can get in the town. They have it heavily cut off from the rest of Oregon. They only use telegrams, not radios, and use Morse Code to communicate. The town has already made it clear they're maintaining radio silence.", Sworder said, letting his words exasperate into the back of Custer's mind.
"Have we at least captured Bend yet?", asked Murray, lighting a cigar in his own casual fashion.
"Yes... now here's the problem. We may have captured Bend, Redmond and Prineville and disrupted the Rebels' supplies to Eugene, but they still hold high positions on the Powell Buttes, which are a set of mountains and they also hold a small town named Suplee, which is historic and abandoned, as there's only a small group of about 31 rebels there currently.", Sworder said, before continuing on with what he was saying. "Bend is under siege, Prineville is holding strong against Rebel counterattacks and Redmond is safe and sound, taking out small Rebel bands of troops that come towards the city. But Crook County, except for Post and Powell Butte, is completely under our control. We're in Southern Washington now, though. We have to capture a city and relieve one before we can get back south towards Post, Powell Butte, Suplee and Eugene."
"What are the 2 cities that we are supposed to capture and relieve, General?", Murray asked cautiously.
"We've captured every single city in Southern Washington and have an advantage on the Columbia. But, we need to capture Walla Walla and relieve Yakima. Thankfully, up in Northern Washington, right now, our Canadian allies and the 5th Infantry Brigade have captured Everett fully. They're making a push for Seattle as God speaks up from the heavens himself.", Sworder said interestingly. "Meanwhile, Tacoma... it's a hell zone there. We've managed to capture the entire North Side of the city, while 1/4 of the South Side has been completely taken. The only building the Rebels hold onto on the North Side is the City Hall, but the Canadians and half of the 2nd Infantry Battalion will make a push into the City Hall as we speak and capture their damned flag."
"Either way, Sworder, we are thankfully not outnumbered by the rebels... how many troops do they exactly have in each city?", Ryder asked, rushing forward while doing his math to figure out how many men were in both cities.
"5,000 in Walla Walla. There are only 3,000 men sieging Yakima at this current and approximate moment in time.", Sworder said. "As far as the naked eye could see, we have a lot more men than the rebels. We can take Walla Walla with ease, then destroy the siege at Yakima and relieve the city. This time, for good."
"Alright, General.", Custer said. "I'd like to ask a question and make a suggestion. Could there be any chance of the rebels gathering a huge force and-"
Custer was suddenly stopped by nearby tearful singing coming from the bridge. He, Sworder, Murray and the other members of the army turned around, including Lincoln and Ryder, to see Mabel standing at the bridge, looking at the sky, rather than the Columbia River, singing "When You Wish Upon A Star", the DreamWorks version, and crying at the same time.
Custer turned to give a look at Sworder. "What the hell happened to her...", he wandered through his quiet words.
Sworder quickly heard Custer asking him the wondering question. Then, the General whispered quietly to Custer, "Mabel's upset. I hope it ain't some breakdown or something like that... as breakdowns are the worst damned things in this entire cursed world."
Custer kept quiet for a moment, before replying back to the young General, "No crap. Do we have any contact with Napoleon VI so far?"
"Oui.", Sworder said to the mustached Cavalry General. "He's about to charge into Tacoma with his La Grande Armee, or The Grand Army in French, as we all know that."
"Right...", Custer said. "You know, he always had skilled diplomacy and good moves as a commander... and a good Emperor, too. At least I know that much, and more than that..."
"Who else do we have under our command?", Murray asked, as he was pulling out a plastic silver whisky flask. As he was doing it, crows flew away from the trees, squawking wildly like geese.
"What the hell...", Custer spoke up. "Speaking of which, Sworder, is there any cavalry regiments assigned to us, outside of mine?"
"Yes, 4, to be exact. They are: The 2nd Tennessee Cavalry, The 14th Montana Cavalry, The 34th Wyoming Cavalry and The 156th Colorado Cavalry. That's all there is, for now. As for the... Special Elite Divisions of the Special Forces, we have been assigned command of 2 of them: The 5th Kentucky Special Elite Division and The 16th Missouri Special Elite Division. We have enough men... for now, people."
"At least they're all country folk...", Custer quietly muttered to himself, out of the range of the ears of Sworder, Murray and everyone else within the group, Mabel included.
Murray took a sip from his whisky flask and let his breath huff out, with the smell of whisky for miles to come out, after it came out of his mouth soon after. He then put the flask back into a satchel he had kept on his horse and immediately closed it, keeping it secure from anyone else, even for miles to come and so on.
"Who the hell commands the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry?", Custer spoke up to Sworder, asking him a precarious question.
"Champ Ferguson and Bloody Bill Anderson.", Sworder said, with a hint of regret on his face.
The whole army went silent then, not knowing what to say to their fellow commander and his words. Then, Mabel sobbed and Custer looked towards her while Murray looked towards Sworder, who had placed his head down in his hands in regret and worry. Murray just minded his own, and decided not to bother the worried General, as he knew he needed some room to breathe and get his feelings back under control. Murray just decided to look towards Custer, who then looked back at him.
"What in the damned name of God did he say?", asked Custer, who looked as if he was about to huff and roll in a whole new load of anger, tenfold.
"Champ Ferguson and Bloody Bill Anderson, lad. Those are the 2 commanders of the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry now.", Murray said back to Custer.
"Well, I'll be damned as hell.", a voice said from behind the group.
It was one of the commanders of the 34th Wyoming Cavalry, General John Hunt Morgan, quickly followed by 2 lead commanders of the 34th Wyoming Cavalry, General Peter Cheyenne and Colonel George Wilcox.
"Who the hell are you 3?", asked Custer suspiciously.
"Don't shoot at us, General.", Wilcox said. Sworder then perked his head up from his horse, then turned around to see the entire army, Mabel included, staring at Wilcox, Morgan and Cheyenne.
"Hold your fire.", Sworder spoke up. "It's Generals Morgan and Cheyenne and Colonel Wilcox of the 34th Wyoming Cavalry. Where's Major Hancock?"
"The Major got wounded a few miles back.", Morgan spoke. "Got shot in the shoulder and leg by 21 rebels, commanded by their infamous Staff Sergeant Frederick Adams. It was the 21st Oregon, a small group of 21 rebels, including Staff Sergeant Adams."
"What happened to the skirmishers and Major Carl Hancock?", Custer spoke up once again.
"There's good news and bad news. The good news is, the Major is in the hospital at Gravity Falls now, while we killed 12 skirmishers and captured only 1 of them, Private Richard Dotson. The bad news is, Staff Sergeant Adams and 7 of his men fled into the woods. We believe they're still around the area, hiding.", General Cheyenne said.
"Is Private Dotson being interrogated now, as we speak?", Sworder said, as he regained full control of himself.
"Yes.", Colonel Wilcox simply stated. "The man's now safe and secure. The injuries were moderate, but now he should be out of the hospital in about 2 or 3 weeks, depending on how much time it could take for his injuries to heal or if there could be surgery."
"God, I hope not.", Custer said. "That man's too great and smart and friendly to lose. Who's the main doctor?"
"Dr. William Carter. Man's a genius, went to Harvard, Princeton and Yale Universities, as well as Dalhousie University in Halifax up in Nova Scotia, Canada. He also went to Towson University and Johns Hopkins University, thank God he went to those 6 places rather than Detroit or East Cleveland... well, you get the picture.", General Cheyenne said from out of the blue.
"Right then, lad. We'll have to figure out where the rest of your army is, though...", Murray said.
"Who leads the 14th Montana Cavalry?", asked Custer.
"Major General Daniel Wheeler, General Joseph Wheeler, Colonel Joseph McElhaney and Lieutenant General Brian Mitchell.", Morgan spoke up. "Those are the 4 commanders of the 14th Montana."
"Well, that's good enough for us. Who are the lead commanders of the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry, besides General Anderson and Lieutenant General Ferguson?", Sworder asked.
"Only one other commander; Brigadier General Henry Wirz.", Wilcox said. "Man's a tough guy to bargain. They also have a lower-ranked commander; Major Franklin Harris, who leads the lower ranked divisions. That guy's not a tough guy to bargain, but he's a good and tough man to kick our enemies' asses up."
"Well... that can work enough.", Sworder said. "We'll talk about the commanders of the 156th Colorado Cavalry and the 2 other Special Elite Divisions."
"Good news for you, General.", Morgan spoke up. "One more division has been assigned to us."
"Which one?", Custer and Sworder asked at the same time.
"The 123rd Kansas Infantry Brigade.", Morgan said. "Wilcox here assigned them to us. They're the last division assigned to us, thus far."
"Well... we have enough divisions now. Make sure we have no more divisions assigned, or everyone's going to go helter skelter and scramble for our divisions.", Sworder said.
"Good plan, lad.", Murray said. "We have too many divisions already, but we have enough to destroy the crap out of these rebel maggots."
"Right... and splatter their brains like mincemeat.", Murray, now briefly drunk from the whisky, said with a dark chuckle, before he and everyone else heard thunder nearby.
"Shit... the forecast called for some damn tough and rough rain today!", Wilcox said, as Morgan lit his pipe up with a match and smoked it before puffing the smoke out of it.
"Right.", Custer yelled. "We might as well get to camp before the hard rain comes down. See y'all on the other side of the pond."
"You too, gentlemen.", Morgan said, before he, Wilcox and Cheyenne rode back towards their camp 7 miles away, with their horses huffing and neighing in the process of doing so, getting lighter.
"Let's set up camp here...", Sworder said. "It's already almost 3:30."
"Good idea, Sworder.", Custer said. "Let's head to the trees! Set up camp there!"
The entire army obliged, as Murray tied his horse to a post near a huge pine tree and rushed to Mabel, who had stopped crying and was sighing with her head in her hands.
"Lassie, let's go. The rain's coming.", the fearless Scottish Sergeant said.
"OK, Sergeant...", Mabel said, sniffling as she walked towards a tent, near where the beautiful horses were and Waddles quietly followed along behind Mabel.
"What the hell should we do now?", asked Custer.
"Hmm. How many Morse Code Telegraph Operators do we have under our belt?", Sworder asked.
"About... 4 of them. Chief Wireless Operator John George "Jack" Phillips, Senior Wireless Operator Joseph Witham Lewis, Junior Wireless Operator Harold Sydney Bride and Junior Recruit Wireless Operator Frederick Davie Michaels.", Custer said from his seat at the 30-meter wide command table in a huge tent that stretched as wide as the small town of Skidmore, Missouri, an infamous town in the grand area of Missouri's Backcountry, near St. Joseph, a town known to have gone back to the Wild West on the wide Missouri River.
"That's good enough, then. They're the best of the best telegraph operators out there and in this army.", Sworder said, sipping his coffee as the words slipped from his mouth and the rain outside began to pour rather slowly, a drizzle, almost.
"The rain should pass by tomorrow morning.", Lincoln spoke up from the group. "By then, our soldiers should be ready after a good night's rest."
"Good plan.", Ryder said, eating a piece of cornbread with t-bone steak and corn on the plate below.
"Good idea... good idea, indeed, lads.", Murray said, drinking from his silver whisky flask and eating borscht and a piece of frozen chicken breasts.
"Well, let's just hope for another day, men. But, on another note... Cheers!", Sworder spoke up, raising his glass of champagne.
"Cheers!", the entire command tent said, clinking their glasses together and sitting down while drinking them full out of their glasses.
"Let's hope for a better day tomorrow, men... a better day.", Custer said, before the command tent got their sleeping bags ready, turned the lights out and fell asleep, with the peaceful sounds of the woods, animals, the Columbia River and the storm, thunder and lightning above.
Finally, the entire camp fell asleep. By 10 PM, all the lights, except the command tent, were out of the camp, to be hidden with the darkness. Thankfully, no rebels would come, but SOMETHING would.
Part II: The Big Move Of The Grandeurs.
Meanwhile, 6 miles away from the camp, at Colonel Strutton's household, O'Leary, McGregor, Strutton, and General Schnell went over their game plan, while the rest of the 16,000 men army went to sleep. Wendy and Ford stayed behind to talk with the 4 commanders, who were smoking cigars and cigarettes and drinking whisky, brandy and wine late into the night, speaking of their Battle plans for the future days and so on, etc.
"I wonder what the hell people think these days...", O'Leary quietly muttered. "I hope this Earth won't become doomed because of idiots like the corrupt politicians back in Washington..."
"I don't know what the bloody hell they could think of.", McGregor spoke up. "If I had any doubts, it'd be of knowing when to kick an enemy's ass at all the points of any time."
Strutton just ignored the men speaking to each other and smoked a cigar in his lavish, relaxing chair to ignore the talk of the 2 commanders, quickly puffing the smoke out of the cigar, as the man didn't care much for cigarettes, which was lighter than cigars, which were big and brown and looked heavy from either a sideways glance or from a upwards glance.
"Different illusions all trick the brain, Strutton.", General Schnell spoke up from his seat to Strutton. "Why in the name of God or whatever else do you think men get easily tricked during wartime?"
"Different things, General.", Strutton said to Schnell. "Hallucinations, night terrors, screaming during the night... etc. But, we can always overcome our fears and destroy them with ease, just like how the old stories of our day told us."
"Kids these days, though... they don't believe it all. They just go on social media and look up inappropriate shit on there that I wouldn't even allow my grandson to see. I swear, the corrupt and abusive idiotic adults are just men and ladies of lies, abuse, scandal and more these days. But you get the picture.", Schnell said to Strutton again.
"Yes, I do, General. Social media has clearly corrupted people's minds and lives as a whole, just because of a crapload horde taking control of everything. Well, I don't give even 2 shits about it. Those corrupt, abusive and idiotic bastards can burn themselves all down the drain to hell itself.", Strutton said, taking another puff from his big brown cigar.
"Indeed. But now, we must continue on the warpath. There's a country that needs to be saved. And we're gonna answer the call for those in need, not for the ones who are corrupt sons-of-bitches, like the ones in Washington.", Schnell said, taking a sip from his glass of brandy.
"You're right about that...", Ford said from where he was, which was next to Strutton. "If we're going to win the rebellion against the Rebels, then we need to show strength, purpose, luck and power to help the people."
"Yes, Pines. At least we made you a Major General. Cause you and Captain Corduroy over there, at least we kept THAT whole damn thing entirely secret enough tenfold, next to you have the potential to... fight a battle with no interest or intention of dying, but with interest or intention of saving your soldiers, spirits and luck.", Schnell spoke up.
"I honestly agree with that.", Strutton said, as he took another puff from his brown cigar. "I respect you, both of you. I won't lie that way. You lead soldiers on different paths, in different ways, but... in the end, we must know we might all have to go down the same path."
"Yes, Colonel. I respect your decision that way.", Ford said, taking a sip from his glass of water on the table before setting it down with a dull thump, catching the attention of McGregor and O'Leary, the only 2 other people in the room, besides Colonel Strutton, General Schnell, Wendy and Ford. McGregor decided to ask a question.
"So, Pines, what do you think we could do tomorrow for the battle plans?", McGregor said in his thick Irish accent, which Ford could barely understand, but caught onto his words rather quickly though, regardless of the thick accent.
"Well, Corporal McGregor, I could believe that we could do something strategic. What would you think of strategic priorities for a battle tomorrow?", Ford asked the young Corporal, who, in turn, put his right hand to his chin in a thinking position.
"Might be a good idea to give him a few seconds, Ford. He likes to think a lot of the time, as he's a smart thinker... and a son of a gun.", O'Leary said, in a more heavier version of a thicker Irish accent.
"Alright, I will.", Ford said, as he waited very patiently, even though his face didn't show it.
"I got it, Ford. We can flank around them before dawn tomorrow.", McGregor said quietly, hoping to not wake up anyone else.
"Good plan, Brian. Let's talk at 3:00 before we leave at 3:50 tomorrow, and I mean just me, Schnell, Strutton and McGregor.", Ford said. "O'Leary, you and Wendy are going to wake the soldiers and get them ready, while we're having a half an hour council. Anyways... let's get some sleep."
And so, the 4th Council of War at the Strutton Household concluded, with each commander going into their bedrooms and sleeping for the night.
Meanwhile, about 8 miles north of the Strutton Household and 2 miles south of Sworder's camp, the Columbia River swayed as the storm continued.
4 miles from the Columbia and 6 miles away from Sworder's camp, the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry, which comprised 12,291 men, including commanders General Samuel "Champ" Ferguson, Lieutenant General William "Bloody Bill" Anderson and Brigadier General Henry Wirz, set up their own camp 7 miles from the Strutton Household. The 3 commanders went into the small command tent after all the men's tents were set up and they started talking about plans late into the night, as was their usual plan, per usual.
"What the hell other options do we have?", General Ferguson, in his Southern Tennessee-like accent said to Lieutenant General Anderson.
"Meeting up with General Sworder?", Anderson said, not thinking of any other good options for it all tenfold.
"Well, I guess that could make sense, Bill...", Ferguson said, keeping his Colt Navy Six-Shot Revolver by his side with bullets in it at all times.
"Of course, those sons of guns don't give a damn about anything we do, well... besides us and our men taking their supplies, then they will get pissed off like hell turned 'em on.", Anderson said, smoking a cigar and keeping his own secrets within his infamous beard and sideburns.
"Right, but we need a new plan. And a new place to hide our supplies we stole from them rebels.", Brigadier General Wirz said, in his hard-boiled and hard-bred Swiss accent.
"Good idea, Henry.", Ferguson said. "The only thing we need to do is get this rebellion done and then we can all return home to fight another day, until the country comes callin' again for our fighting power once more!"
"Indeed!", Anderson said. "You're correct about that, Champ. You're entirely correct and I don't blame you. That's one thing I can say for sure."
"Right, Bill.", Ferguson said from his own side of the table. "By the way, must we talk about that Cipher fellow?"
"No, we mustn't... for now at least.", Anderson spoke up, after he took a drink of brandy from his glass, keeping his famous owning signature on it and kept it attached to the glass, his rather favorite glass to drink brandy that his late father and late grandfather had given him 40 years ago.
"Good idea. Bill Cipher and Will Cipher are still wanted by the FBI. For some reason, they can help us... or they could not.", Ferguson said to Anderson who was now refilling his glass full of brandy and the smell in the tent... it smelled like actual brandy tenfold, that was for sure.
"Hmm. What else could happen...", thought Anderson quietly, keeping his own secrets from his friend and a fellow great commander.
Meanwhile, Wirz, who was mostly quiet, sat drinking Polish wine and eating borscht and a half a piece of a turkey sandwich and a chicken leg filled with a piece of a cheddar cheeseburger, along with Swiss cheese. A rather interesting meal, indeed...
"Well, since all the other men are asleep-", Ferguson said, before Wirz got up and went to his tiny command tent, where the lower-ranked commanders slept.
"Goodnight, General, and Lieutenant General.", Wirz said, before saluting the men and then they saluted back before Wirz left the command tent for good to get some good sleep for the next morning under the storm and the cover of the trees and tents and so on. Wirz only hoped one thing, that a tree branch wouldn't fall on any of their tents...
Since Wirz had left to take his rest for the night and he was the highest-ranked of the lower-ranked commanders of the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry, the 2 remaining high-ranking commanders were left in the command tent alone, as they then heard nothing but the storm and the sounds of Mother Nature herself and the woods.
Finally, Ferguson turned the clock to 8 AM, hoping to get some sleep. Anderson set up his sleeping bag before Ferguson blew out the lantern that was in the tent, which was heavily lighting that tent and them and the nature around it.
Then, Ferguson got his sleeping bag ready, took a sip of hot coffee, then he finished it about 6 minutes later, before turning in for the night, only hearing the sounds of nature, the sounds he had heard, besides war itself and had loved all his life.
By 11 PM, all the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry were now sleeping in their tents, at peace with Mother Nature and the storm she had made around the West Coast. A dark one, at that.
Meanwhile, at the camp of the Army of the West Coast/General Sworder's army, the major amount of soldiers and people had gone to sleep in their tents.
Before midnight arrived, Sworder asked Mabel a question, one of very great importance.
"What do you think happened to your twin brother and great-uncle?", Sworder asked Mabel curiously, with only the 2 of them, Custer, Lincoln, Ryder and Murray in the tent, as everyone had already either gone to sleep or was going to.
"Well... those Cipher brothers might have kidnapped them.", Mabel said with a sniffle and Sworder put his right hand to his chin, thinking, as curiosity easily started to get the better of him.
"The Cipher brothers... they're wanted by the FBI. And the CIA needs to keep tabs on 'em, as well.", Sworder said.
"Aye. MI6 and the SAS are sending units and agents to Caldwell's Brigades further north in Bend.", Murray said, drinking his whisky flask like he meant it, basically stuck on drinking it now.
"You mean General James Caldwell commands the sieged divisions in Bend?", Custer asked, profusely trying to keep a calm face.
"Yes, lad. If I had the power to be in Bend at this damned moment, then I'd rather make my divisions rushing to the gates of Bend to defend it, and fight back to the death.", Murray said drunkenly, now on the verge of passing out due to drinking too much of his pure Scottish whisky.
"Lincoln, get the Sergeant to sleep and then come back. He appears to be that drunk, I suppose...", Custer said to Lincoln, who rushed out of the tent with Sergeant Murray into the drizzling rain, put him in the leading Sergeants tent, then Murray passed out in the tent and Lincoln rushed back into the drizzling rain and towards the command tent, which was rather huge and looked like the Seattle Space Needle.
Lincoln eventually entered it, while Custer smoked his pipe and read "U.S. Grant's Personal Memoirs", Sworder drinking some Italian wine and reading "A Night to Remember", Mabel comforting Waddles, who had gone into the tent before the storm and wasn't seen by anybody, besides Mabel, and Ryder who was drinking a mug of rather good root beer soda and reading "The Firm", which was also rather good and feeding the Paw Patrol their food before they went to sleep.
Lincoln eventually sat down, and started to drink tea and eat pizza along with some ice cream, while everyone relaxed and was starting to shut down for the night.
Before they went to bed right at midnight, Sworder stood up and set his wine glass down. He walked up to Lincoln, Ryder and Custer and said to the 3 men: "Make sure we don't screw up. Tomorrow's a big day. Our men are counting on us to save 'em!"
Custer then said, "Good idea, Sworder. Might as well get to bed, gentlemen. Early risin' tomorrow at 7:20 AM. We move out at 8:30 AM tomorrow, as well. We might all even wake up earlier and leave earlier, I don't know yet, though..."
Then, Custer, Sworder and Mabel and Waddles decided to sleep in the command tent. Ryder decided to do the same, to not leave the pups alone while Lincoln said goodnight, left the tent into the almost heavy rain now and went to his family tent and fell asleep shortly thereafter.
By 12:25 AM, The Army of the West Coast was entirely asleep and ready for the big day... whatever it cost them.
For the next 6 hours, the soldiers of the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry, The Army of the West Coast, The Army of the Columbia, The 34th Wyoming Cavalry, and the other divisions of the massive army, rather split apart, slept in tents and in houses, so on, so forth it went.
By 7:30, the sun was rising. Roosters, crows, ravens, cardinals, and many more birds croaked out the morning cry for the people of the forest, which in this case was the scattered army, and finally woke them up from their many deep slumbers through the night.
By 7:45 AM, everyone was out of the tents and ready. The rain had finally stopped during the night and the Columbia River itself had finally settled, now a smooth calm, rather than the rough waves of yesterday.
By 8 AM, hoping the weather would prove greatly calm, clear and warm, The Army of the West Coast moved out towards Yakima, Washington to support their fellow men, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Andrew "Richie" Reynolds, with a garrison of 1,695 men in Walla Walla, surrounded by 3,000 rebels, under the command of Lieutenant Major Ricardo "Outsider" Hernandez outside the city, protected only by the little rivers and somewhat long bridges spanning several entrances to one of the grand cities of Southern Washington, the Columbia Region and the West Coast as an entire whole, tenfold.
Meanwhile, at the Strutton Household, the 5th Council of War there concluded. Wendy got most of the soldiers up downstairs, while O'Leary got the remaining troops awake that were upstairs and the 4 remaining commanders, Ford and McGregor included, got their men ready to move out and waiting for Colonel Strutton and General Schnell.
"So... where is the current location of our objectives, sir?", McGregor said to Colonel Strutton with a bit of a confused and a worried face at the same time.
"Well, Corporal, we are heading to Yakima, Washington. In the Southern Washington area.", Strutton spoke up with a voice full of stress from smoking cigars in the meeting room and drinking 2 glasses of brandy, that was one damned thing he needed to be worried about, that was for sure.
"Hmm. I guess that could make perfect sense.", McGregor said. "Sworder and the Army of the West Coast is going there too. They plan to free our men that are sieged there."
"Might as well inform them we're moving out.", Strutton said, looking at Schnell, who was looking at his ticking golden pocketwatch and smoking from his pipe, while Strutton smoked a cigar classically well.
"Well, I suppose we should get a move on. We need to be in Yakima before our men surrender the city.", O'Leary said, coming out of the house with the remainder of the men who were still in the house at that point in time.
"Indeed.", said General Schnell. "Of course, we don't need any of us doing stuff and saying bullshit while we're marching, as that could be a great disgrace to this goddamned army."
"Right.", Colonel Strutton muttered quietly amidst the army, while looking at the rising sun, smoking a cigar and thinking in his mind.
"I wonder what other ideas we could think of.", McGregor said, with a cup of hot coffee in his hand and ready to sip it at any time due to the warm weather, which was starting to suddenly drop by the many hours... and the clock ticked by, swaying as the sunshine rolled in to give light from the power of the Great Sun itself.
"What do you think could be a damned good guess for a massive operation like this, lad?", McGregor said to O'Leary, who was now drinking his homemade Irish whiskey, filled with whipped cream. It always tastes great, muttered O'Leary silently.
McGregor just ignored O'Leary and let him drink his homemade whisky, while he finished his coffee, burning his tongue a little bit, but nothing else rather than that one little incident of the burnt tongue, but McGregor kept his cool, as he always famously and secretly did.
"Wee German Lairdies.", McGregor silently said, before O'Leary quickly heard him.
"What?", O'Leary asked McGregor in confusion and then he said it again, but this time, in O'Leary's ear.
"Wee German Lairdies.", McGregor said to O'Leary through his earhole and ear canal.
"Well... I can see we're understanding Scottish Gaelic now, are we, lad?", O'Leary said, silently chuckling as he drank his whisky flask once again, full of his famous homemade whisky.
"Heh... I can see I've caught up, eh?", McGregor asked, finally finishing the last sip of his hot Folgers coffee, which always burnt his tongue when he drank it, and weird enough... he liked it burning his tongue for 20 of the weirdest reasons known to mankind as the whole of it was already mysterious to him.
"Ah, well, forget it. We have to get a move on in 15 minutes.", O'Leary said to McGregor as he got off his horse and quickly rushed inside the house to put the coffee cup, now empty, but to the full brim of it.
Nearby, Strutton and Schnell smoked cigars and drank from their own whisky flasks while discussing battle plans all over.
"Do we have any idea who leads the SAS Pigeon Company?", Strutton asked.
"Sure. As always, be my guest to know my goddamn MINDSET. Anyways, Captain Valiant O'Banion, a fellow pigeon himself, leads the pigeon company. The Captain has valor and grace in himself. That Pigeon Company, otherwise known as Valiant Friends, have served since the Second World War. All I know, is that... they are all immortal.", Schnell said to Strutton, as he listened closely, taking every detail that came from Schnell's mouth for the greater good and for the better and hell of it all entirely.
"Well. Now we know that information as full as hell's pits of death themselves.", Strutton said precariously.
"Oh. We have to move out in 10 minutes. Get the men into marching formation. This army's remaining time on Earth depends on it all.", Schnell said to Strutton, who quickly did so.
"Well, then. If we head back into the tradition of Scottish Lords and Earls and Kings and-", Strutton started to say, yet again precariously, before being cut off by the fearless General.
"We don't have time to talk about that.", Schnell said. "We need to get these men ready now or the entire rebellion could fall into chaos and anarchy, not just across America... but the world as we speak and know of it right now."
"Alright, then. Soldiers, let's move on forward!", Strutton then spoke triumphantly before he grabbed another cigar from his coat pocket and lit it with a match, puffing out the smoke shortly after and leading the troops onward via horseback and walking, amongst other means of transport.
Then, the troops went onward, towards the exquisitely grand Columbia, as the golden sun finally shined over the horizontal sky and amongst the green trees and grass of Oregon, already approaching their objective.
"I wonder what the hell they always have up their own damned sleeves...", Schnell said to himself as he and his fellow troops rode on through the countryside towards the bridge and their commander and his own massive army, not knowing that The Army of the West Coast had already moved out tenfold towards Yakima.
Meanwhile, 20 miles south of Portland, at the Kingsley Field Air Force Base, the home of the 173rd Fighter Wing, in Klamath Falls, Oregon, Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore and his fellow commanders got back into their prized Huey Helicopters and the Cavalryman who always had his bugle played the march, "To Arms", contracting everyone's attention as the majority of all of the helis' blades switched on, ready to lift up into the sky once more and launch a small machine gun attack on Kennewick, making sure that after General Schnell and Colonel Strutton's army get across the Columbia at the meeting point at Furley, then march to Highland and take the city from all sides before leaving it with a small garrison and moving towards Union Gap, near Yakima; the second main objective before Walla Walla came into play tenfold.
For Kilgore, Operation HELLFIRE was now in full play, making sure that the rebels had completely been defeated and annihilated before Christmas, as if it were World War I all over again.
"Harrison, get your squadron ready!", Kilgore shouted to Harrison over the blades that were already fully on.
"They all are, Bill! They've been spilt up into the many different helis here.", Harrison shouted back over the still rotating and loud blades.
"That's a damned good thing then, right?", Kilgore then shouted.
"Wrong!", Harrison shouted back. "They might forget who's who and which regiment they're in! That's just my guess, Bill. That's just my guess..."
"I hear you, Dave.", said Kilgore, as he was putting his sunglasses on once again, and the 26 helis were heading straight for Portland, this time, with much more helis, 16 additional, for their 4th attack on the city so far.
Amidst all this carnage, the helis flew off, hoping to see another sunset. And another battle.
t the United Nations Security Council in New York City, the newly-elected Secretary General, Sir Henry Davidson, the 16th Duke of Mull, and the representatives of the countries of the world, including: The United States, now the Federation of North America, The United Kingdom, now the Kingdom of Greater Britannia, France, now the 3rd French Empire, Germany, now split into the 2nd German Confederation and 2nd Kingdom of Prussia, Sweden, now the main and most powerful leader of the 2nd Kalmar Union, Russia, now The Siberian-Russian Commonwealth, China, now the Grand Republic of China, Finland, now Greater Finland, Cuba, Jamaica and the Bahamas, who are the 3 leaders of the newly-formed Caribbean Union and more countries who have changed and haven't changed, including Sudan, now The Republic of Greater Sudan, Thailand, now The 2nd Siamese Empire, Japan, now the 2nd Japanese Empire, Mongolia, now the Greater Mongol Republic, Czechia, now one of the main leaders of the Greater Balkan Republic and the still remaining Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, slowly collapsing within itself, due to its many human rights violations.
"What the hell do we think is going on in Oregon? War and hell, of course. What other mentions would I make...", Joseph Witham, The Ambassador to the UN from the FNA spoke from his seat with his sign before him, reading the name of the grand country the UN HQ was in; "NORTH AMERICAN FEDERATION."
"Are we trying to go back to the Napoleonic Era?", asked Ivan Kirnov, the Ambassador from The SRC, with his sign before him, reading the name of the unique and snowy country where many Tsars and leaders ruled; "THE SIBERIAN-RUSSIAN CONFEDERATION."
"No... why must you ask that question?", The Duke of Mull spoke up accordingly with his own cliques and touches of dismay and the such.
"Because, my fellow comrade from Britannia, Hell and the Devil is on its way to burn our souls soon... but God only knows when that will happen.", Kirnov said, now smoking a cigarette whilst talking to the Duke, who had a interstingly puzzled look on his face with a mustache, whilst holding a cup of black cocoa, yet not sipping it, just holding onto it.
"I can see why.", the Duke let out with the heaviest sigh he had ever felt in his many years on the Planet Earth, nearly dropping his cup if cocoa, but holding onto it firmly and taking a sip of it to conceal a cough he had coming up from his throat, yet a few ambassadors could still hear it, amidst the Duke drinking his hot cocoa.
Witham then cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. "So... what did we all have to come here for, Sir Henry?"
"Well, I was about to get to that, Joseph.", the Duke of Mull then said with a prominent grunt.
"So we are here to discuss the situation in Northern Oregon, Washington and Southern British Columbia. Things have gotten out of control in that area to the situation that it's practically hell there at this current moment in time. Other news, Adventure Bay, the city that was in British Columbia, 25 miles north of Vancouver, has currently been protected by American and Canadian naval forces, along with Canadian troops, who have disassembled several attacks by the rebels.", the Duke then said.
"Aren't the rebels part of the Internation Organization?", Kirnov asked.
"Aye.", spoke Witham suddenly, lighting a spare cigar he had in his pocket. "They ARE the Internation Organization, led by none other than Gen. David Patton. The bastards have invoked tenfold havoc in that area for 2 decades straight, ever since Gen. George Patton's son was overthrown from office, ending the Patton Military Junta. His whereabouts are currently unknown at this time, but we have evidence to say he is still alive, as we have been evident in finding some evidence near Whitehorse in Yukon."
"So... you're telling me that an organization funded by the now-dead General Patton himself has wreaked havoc in that area of America for 2 decades straight, and yet you're now taking drastic measures?", Kirnov spoke, drinking a glass of water, before snapping his fingers to think more straightly.
"Simply, yes.", Witham said. "You see, during Patton's early reign after Gen. McArthur's death in 1947... in 1956, something was invoked in the forests of Northern Oregon, near what is now the town of Gravity Falls.", Witham spoke calmly, hoping to maintain focus. "That's where a certain Colonel, Jack your you Pines, comes into play. We were able to investigate him before he died, through one of our secret agencies, the Federal Containment Agency, or the FCA for short. When we did, we sent 2 agents to that location. Their names? Senior Special Agent Kevin Brander and Junior Special Agent William Pinckney. When we investigated the former Colonel, he dispatched his long kept dark secret to us. It was about what was in those caves. By the way, at this current point in time, we were searching for D.B. Cooper, and we went to him for a secret operation-", Witham was then cut off by a dispatched cough.
"What secret operation, Joe?", Kirnov then said, puzzled.
"Well... its name was Operation Operator.", Witham spoke back, before leaning back in his chair and putting his now smoking cigar back into his mouth, puffing the smoke out of it. "The operation was mostly successful... with two exceptions. One: we couldn't find Cooper, as we presumably all know. Two: Col. Pines told us about mysterious creatures in the caves nearby, particularly a large cave called Gravitational Depths Cave. Pinckney and his team stayed with the Colonel, catching the whole thing on cassette tape. As for Brander and his team, they went to check out the cave I mentioned. Half of them never returned out of that cave. The other half, including Brander, did return... but not without some... contradictory evidence to prove that they weren't wrong."
"What in the name of Nevsky do you mean by... that?", Kirnov asked, snapping his fingers again for his glass of water to be replaced by a glass of his favorite Russian vodka.
"What I mean by that, Ivan, is pictures and recordings caught on a few cassette tapes they were able to bring along with them.", Witham said. "In those pictures, they caught what appears to be Bigfoot and other creatures that we know about, but can't disclose to the general public in fear of a panic and the such and such."
"I can see why.", Kirnov said, now drinking his newly-poured vodka with an eyebrow raised and a general smirk on his face, before setting the glass back down.
"Right... also, what other creatures do you-", The Duke spoke up, but was interrupted by Witham.
"As I said, they can't be released to the general public in fear of panic, anarchy and other reasons kept confidential.", Witham said.
"But this isn't the general public, lad.", The Duke said. "We won't release this to the public or any other sources."
"Fine.", Witham said. "So... one creature found there, besides Bigfoot, was a... raven-type creature that spit a foul acidic source. Brander and Pines each called it "The Inceptor." Those creatures have been seen around Oregon, yet nowhere else around the world, since the late 1890s, but we couldn't find a name for it or a positive source for its existence... until that date in '71. That's the ONLY creature I will release info to the UN about, but nothing more."
The Ambassadors and the Duke of Mull seemed to go silent at that very point in time, as if time never existed at all in the first place, and if it was just a draft of an endless void that connected the whole thing and its pieces together.
Before then, the UN continued to talk about the Internation Organization, the creatures in Oregon that haven't been released to the public, the Rebellion and the leaders of it. And that was all, for now at least... before other bullshit on hand could get into the way of it all.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/N: Since I've been working on this chapter for 2 WHOLE DAMNED MONTHS, with setbacks included, I will be starting the next chapter tomorrow and then take a 2-week break, before starting the next one. That's all for today... so far, this is the story's LONGEST WORDED chapter in this story. Until next time, comrades! And in case you want suggestions or the whatnot, you can comment them if you want, and I'll try to reply to them as soon and in the best time as I can. Chapter VI is coming tomorrow to a device near you... be ready.
