And whosoever sheddeth man's blood, then by man his blood be shed.

The lights cut out; the stage curtains fluttered lightly, pushed easily aside by two black-clad figures. How silently they skittered out onto the stage, taking refuge within the infinite darkness created by their comrade. But as the panther neared his victim, his opponent, he noticed a slight shift in the squirrel's weight. How quickly did the Grey spin, the deft unsheathing of his sword resonating within the air. He brought the blade across horizontally, but he felt absolutely no resistance. Thus, he knew he missed. And that miss costed him, for pain shot through his upper body as a fist met solidly with his abdomen. His breath was lost, but his bearings were, fortunately, retained. His eyes had adjusted slightly to the darkness, but they did not truly need to for him to take note of his assailant. The 99er had halted his attack and stood eye-to-eye with the squirrel, his violet irises acting as his sole means of identification. Then his grin. Toothy, devious. Evil. The squirrel matched it.

In came a stab from the Grey, but once again, he found the evasiveness of his opponent to be far too much. He half-expected another blow to the stomach, but such was not what he received. Instead, his knee suddenly collapsed, undoubtedly from the impact of Dark's boot upon his joint. Just as the pain had begun to set in, a harsh elbow met with the side of the squirrel's head, toppling him over, onto his back. His sword clattered to the stage just to his side. He reached for it as a familiar sound pierced his oncoming deliriousness. A scraping noise, rough yet smooth. Shrill and high-pitched. A monotone hum followed soonafter, at which point the squirrel brought his weapon up and across his body, the flat side of the blade resting against the open, up-turned palm of his hand. A sword of similar make and model clashed with his own, sending sparks up into the air, thus illuminating the immediate area, if only momentarily. The panther's face was etched with determination, and he looked poised to end the battle quite quickly. But the soldier from the 97th had other ideas.

Up came the squirrel's boot, planting solidly into Dark's gut. He keeled over slightly, caught a bit unawares. The Grey utilized the moment of down-time to his advantage, knocking away the slightly weakened sword arm of his opponent and flipping over backwards, sending the 99er hurdling through the air. As was the myth, however, he landed on his feet. A full one hundred and eighty degree spin in mid-air landed the angry, determined panther in a crouch, sword in hand. His jaw was set, eyes ablaze, muscles defined, veins pumping. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he moved towards his opponent, who had just nipped up to his feet in a rather fashionable manner. The squirrel grit his teeth, frustrated that his counter had not worked to the extent he had expected it to. He cursed under his breath, afterwards launching headlong into a full-out sprint towards the slowly on-coming 99er. Dark adjusted his own speed, picking it up considerably. His strides lengthened, and he bent low, sword trailing along the stage. The Grey brought an overhead slash downwards, aiming to split the threat before him in two. Surely, the panther could not adjust his approach now. Too late. And he never did.

Dark had felt the attack coming more than he had seen it, despite his innate night vision. He knew he had not the time or solid enough footing to dodge to either side of the incoming blade, and so he merely brought his own around viciously. Steel met steel, and the strength and ferocity of the 99er knocked the blade of the Grey both out of the way and out of his hands. It stuck solidly in the adjacent wall, and the shocked soldier of the 97th was left with a blade to his throat - the blade that left an enormous gash in the flesh. The very same blade that severed two main arteries and caused blood to spew from the enormous wound. The panther slammed his sword into the chest of his deceased opponent after he had finished cutting him a second smile, pinning the Grey to the wall. But upon closer inspection, one could easily tell that the cadaver had a ghastly grin painted upon his face. Stuck that way now. His lifeless gaze was locked onto the ribcage of the panther, out of which jutted the hilt of a combat knife.

Dark tore the blade from his body. Blood spilled out from the wound, running down his tactical vest and his pants. But he was not going to quit. The pain would not defeat him. His comrades could be in need. He applied pressure to the wound with his free hand and, with the knife that left a huge wound in his side, he slinked off into the darkness in search of the children. Perhaps he could evacuate them while the others fought.

CG entered with Dark but he disappeared in his squirmish. As he was walking around to find his opponent he heard someone laughing.

"Kenny Johnson...fancy meeting you here."

"Heh...I figured you were going to be here, Manuel."

A tall grey squirrel emerged out of the shadows. He had black hair that passed his shoulders. He wore shades also. It was like a black haired version of old CG.

"Do you still have the grudge about me getting the nick name?" said the 99er

"I deserved that name more than you, but I'm not worried about that anymore. Because I can kill you and win that nick!" said the 97er

"You can have it if you want it that much, I won't fight for it...but I will fight you because of what you've been doing to these kids."

"Meh...they're just little stepping stones so that I could get to you"

"...Now that was selfish, and now I have an even bigger urge to kick your ass!"

CG lunged at him and threw a circular kick. Manuel dogded easily and got on guard.

"You won't beat me. I mastered kickboxing, American Kempo, Grappling and Karate"

"Then it will be a commercial martial arts against some classics, since I've only practiced Karate-Do and Kendo"

"I'll kick your butt."
Manuel dashed at him, and threw a circular kick at his side. CG blocked it with his knee and punched his face.

"Oh, and I practiced some Muay Thai also..."

The 97er lunged at him again and tried to hit CG with some quick punches to his face, a was a mix of straight punches, circular, elbows and other moves. CG just parried them all. He grabbed the last elbow hit and twisted his arm, then stepped on him.

"I trained some judo and aikido my memory is fading!" CG backed up a bit and got in guard waiting for Manuel to stand.
"I was always better than you! Prepare to remember those days Kenny...You'll remember those days you bastard!"

"I already beaten your other styles...what are you going to do know?"

"Swordsplay..." He stepped back a bit and reached for a darkened corner. He got a huge sword out. It was like two times their size.

"Preparate maldito!"

The fighting had begun. But instead of participating Chael found himself in the backstage area. He knew it was nearby but couldn't find it. Then he saw the pedestal. Atop it was an intricate device with two liquid filled containers on the top. He found a chair and sat, staring intensely at the bomb. The timer was set but inactive, a pressure sensitive plate on the bottom, and several mercury switches. He knew it was well made and defusing it wouldn't be easy. He took off his night vision and pulled out a flashlight. After finding two access panels he returned his goggles and set down his flashlight.

Getting a hand-held power screwdriver from a pocket, he loosened the top screws on the larger of the panels. He took a small metal strip and slid it along the tiny opening. It stopped partially along, signifying an internal pressure trigger. He resealed the panel and went to the next. He again tested the panel for traps. When he was certain he removed the panel and peered inside. He found a light sensing diode, rendered useless by the blackout. He snipped its wires and got his flashlight again.

He observed the insides carefully, noting circuit pathways and wire harnesses. He chuckled. The red one, it's the red one. He took a yellow one and snipped it. The bomb deactivated and Chael returned his tools to his pocket. He dismantled parts of the bomb, smashing one of the canisters against a wall and tearing out the receiver. He found what frequency it ran on and took out an RF tracker. Some one had built the bomb and someone had the remote for it.


Oreos remained an observer to the fighting below. He watched as Dark finished off his target, just as CG started with his. A few of his teammates were dispatching lackies. One of the goons got close to the hostages admist the chaos. He reached out his paw to grab ahold of one of the children, perhaps to use him as a shield.


Oreos pulled the trigger, and shot off the mercenary's paw before it could touch the child. The grey let out a howl of pain, and Oreos silenced him with another bullet.

-Sarge- radio transmit - We've captured the hill.

And what a show it was. The 99th Platoon on stage opening fire at the audience (lackies hiding behind the seats) giving the auditorium flickers of light, almost enough to cause a seizure. the children were led to the back stage, where DYM and Sarge were.

Pyst and Carrie dove off the stage in front of the front rows, and reloaded as the mercenaries gave their performance.

Chael - I've deactivated the bomb, but the remote can still set it off. We have to find it.

"I think you'd have the best chance Chael, who else on the 97th platoon is a demolitions expert?

At this point, the P.A interrupted the show. Like well-mannered students, every actor stopped their shooting, tip-toeing, and swordplay. Malteaser's voice came on.

Malteaser - Sorry for the interruption staff and students, will Oreos please report to the rooftop. Oreos, to the rooftop, thank you.

Pyst tossed a grenade into the row of seats, and the loud explosion broke the silence that followed after the message.

Oreos raised an eyebrow. "We've captured the stage, the hostages are safe..." All his targets were below him, so he couldn't see any of them. Therefore, he trusted his teammates could maintain control here. Oreos exited the auditorium and headed for the nearest stairwell.

Andy had just jumped down from the top of the auditorium, to the action below. A lot was going on already, it seemed. This blackout prevented him from seeing much of anything, although through the little light given off by the platoons' various weapons, he could at least tell Dark had finished fighting and was now on his way to evacuate the children, and he saw CG and a few others he couldn't recognize still going at it. He started walking towards Dark, to help him get the children out of this place, but, as he half-expected, someone came in to stand in the way.

"Whoever you are, get out of the way." Zeta said with a straight, assertive tone, and kept walking forward. Of course, subconsciously, he knew that wasn't going to happen, but it didn't really occur to him until a few seconds later.
Seeing that indeed the figure had not budged, he decided to pause to get a good look. It was an odd-looking guy, maybe two or three inches taller than he, wearing what looked like basic army-style attire; combat vest, camo pants, light boots. He looked quite a bit older than Andy, by at least thirty years, but was noticeably well-defined, and his hair tied back in a pony-tail completed a buff biker kind of look. A brief nearby muzzle flash illuminated him slightly, and for a moment, Andy could make out his face."Let me guess... you want me to fight you?" Zeta asked.

"Andy... It's been a while, huh?" The man began to walk closer to him. Zeta had long since drawn his G36C, and was absentmindedly holding it, but ready to use it should the need arise. "To think we'd meet again here, of all places... I bet you especially enjoyed watchin' the little brats outside get their brains blown out." the man sneered.
No. 'He' wasn't a man. Or a woman. Or a child. It was a despicable monster, not worthy of even the slightest recognition as a sentient being. Almost not even worthy of death.

"... Not particularly."

"Huh. Well..." the walking, talking thing pointed a handgun at Zeta's forehead. "I guess, since you're not in the mood to chat, how'd you like to join your little red buddies in hell!?"


"What're ya, scared!?"

"... Not anymore." In his mind, Andy almost jumped in surprise. Why did he say that? He'd never seen this guy before...

"What then? Huh!? Come on, don't you wanna fight me too? Kill me maybe? Or is the real world still too much for poor little Andy!?"

Zeta shook his head. "... Not really. Now get out of the way, you're just wasting my time." He pushed the handgun aside, not having really registered the threat in the first place. His mind was already somewhere else entirely. He knew this thing's face. But... how? The thing grew angry, apparently very offended by Zeta brushing him off. "Ooh, look at the big man! So I'm a waste o' your time now, am I!?"

Andy began to feel very uneasy. Every nearby muzzle flash, every tiny moment that he got to look at this thing's terrible face, he felt something coming back to him, something horrible. After a few seconds he was trembling, and he almost dropped his rifle. Sweat poured down his face, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

The monster saw this as fear, and immediately began to pick at it. "Hahahahaha! Aww, look at da wittle ba-aby! HAAhahahahahahaaaa!!" In its arrogant jeering, it had even completely let down its guard. Zeta could have caught it with even the most clumsy, off-handed pull of the trigger. But he wasn't thinking anymore, it was no use. Every instant of that laughter brought him closer... closer to the part of his memory he thought was gone. At last he recognized his assailant.

"Get back in yer damn room, ya stupid baby!" The palm of a grey paw made contact with a frightened child's red face. The boy bawled irrepressibly, and the grey paw struck him again, knocking him to the ground.

"S.. s-stop it!" the boy bellowed. "I-I-I.. just... I'm... h-hungry..." he sobbed.

"Oh, is that so? And you think I'm not!? For the last time we don't have any more damn food! And if we did you sure as hell wouldn't get any! You're just a big waste o' life. A wimpy little baby, just like all the other damn red squirrels who were too scared to fight in the war like the rest of us. A buncha cowards!" The owner of the grey paw spat on the boy's face, and left the run-down shack. Probably to get drunk again, the boy figured. Or, well... more drunk. Every bit of money that tyrant got from welfare checks, he wasted. Sooner or later he was going to die either by alchohol poisoning or starvation, and the sooner the better, the boy muttered to himself. These frequent outings served the boy well, though, as they gave him a chance to go out and scrounge around or beg for food, and it was quite possibly the only reason he was still alive. Today, however, he was exhausted, and famished though he was, he didn't have the strength to go out and find something to fill his stomach. The boy would spend this evening much as he had spent the past six months; hungry, depressed, and hoping to every supernatural force he could think of the tyrant wouldn't come home any time soon.

Up until half a year ago, it hadn't been like this at all. The tyrant was normally a very nice person... But he changed. After his wife was killed during a bank robbery, he became extremely depressed. The boy didn't think much of it at first. After all, it was only natural to be sad at the loss of a loved one. But weeks passed, and still he had not left his house. He began to neglect the boy who was under his care, and soon that neglect turned into abuse. Being legally under this man's control, the boy could do nothing but take every beating, every blow to his face and to his dignity, and over time, the condition of his life had been gradually getting worse and worse.

This night, though, would be the last time he would see the fiend. The next morning, three men in suits showed up to the broken shack he called a home, to announce that his uncle, former Lieutenant Daniel Redran, had run out onto the street in a drunken fit, and had been hit by an oncoming trailer. Andy was to remain here until arrangements were made for him to be placed in an orphanage...

Before he realized it, Andy was on the ground, having received a hard boot to the gut from the monster. His rifle was off to the side, slightly out of his reach. It was almost just like ten years ago, but there was one big difference. The statement he had made earlier was true. He wasn't scared of the monster he formerly called his uncle. Not anymore. He rolled off to the side to avoid another kick, and slowly picked himself up, regaining his concentration.

"Hah! What a waste!!" It laughed. "Who ended up adopting a useless kid like you, anyway?"

"No one." Zeta stated blankly after a moment. "I ran away when I turned thirteen."

A hoarse, annoying laugh from the monster ensued. "Figures! I shoulda just let you rot in that crap-hole."

"Well, you were already doing that." Zeta began to reach for the holster on his side. "You don't have any idea how much I want to kill you. You were bad enough before, but now you've lowered yourself to something as stupid as racism. You're not even a person anymore."

"Feh, big words! You really think you can?" It once again pointed its handgun at Andy's head.

"Yep." Zeta pointed his own gun to the monster's head.

Chael followed his tracker and entered a basement doorway. He entered into an area with rows of shelving when he heard a voice.

"Well Whitey, it's been a long time." A squirrel stepped out from one of the shelves. The right side of the squirrels face was marred by small metallic fragments coming a few centimeters out from his fur. "I'll presume you found me because you dismantled one of my bombs. So let's take the next step." He pulled out a remote and pressed the button on it. "I placed twenty bombs on the premises. By the time I finish this statement, you'll have five minutes till they detonate. If all were intact, which I doubt, that would be 15 seconds each to find and deactivate them. You'd better get moving" Chael just smiled and held his tracker in view.

"That appears to be a basic remote. Just hit a button and a signal goes out to activate whatever receives it. I got the frequency from the bomb of yours I found. This will prevent the use of that frequency in a 30 foot radius. If you want to use your remote, you'll have to shut this off." Chael dropped it into one of his pockets. The other squirrel pulled out a gun and pointed it at Chael.

"You're still an arrogant bastard." He opened fire. Chael shielded himself using both his cannon and mechanical arm. When the clip was expended the gun was tossed aside and the squirrel charged at Chael. He dropped his cannon and Chael prepared to dodge the enemy assault. As he closed in the squirrel took a knife from a sheath at his side. He opened with an upward diagonal slash followed by several quick thrusts. With his augmented muscles Chael easily reacted in time. The adversary stepped to the side and tried slashing the right of Chael's stomach open. The attack was met with Chael catching the blade in his mechanical hand and breaking it.

Taking advantage of the close quarters, he grabbed one of the grenades on Chael's bandolier and hopped back. The 'pin', which comprised of the top and a cylinder in the core of the grenade, was pulled and dropped as the squirrel tossed it at Chael and ducked behind one of the shelves. Chael, knowing more about the device than his enemy, picked up the grenade, manipulated a switch on the inside, and picked up the pin, replacing it. He returned the grenade to his bandolier and spoke.

"If you're going to steal something from someone, understand how it works before using it. That was a remote grenade; inside the pin is the detonator."

"Such a weapon doesn't exist." Chael smirked before replying.

"Then you don't know me very well."


Oreos slipped away from where the action was, heading towards the roof, determined to be alone. He had reached the bottom of the flight of stairs leading upwards, when he had the sneaky suspicion that Sarge was going to pistol whip him and leave him unconscious. A split second later Sarge smacked Oreos over the head with the butt of his pistol.
"Damn it!" Oreos barked. "----! Sarge! Why the HELL do you have to do that ALL the time?!"
Sarge frowned. He obviously wasn't as strong as he used to be.

"That's not what was supposed to happen..."

"And now I've got a you know what that means?!"


"It means...I'VE GOT A HEADACHE!"

Oreos clutched the back of his head and stared at Sarge irritably."I just thought...I don't know. Maybe you needed some company."Oreos paused. His head throbbed.
"Yeah... 'k. Whatever."

Manuel dashed towards CG, swinging that huge sword trying to land a hit on him. CG managed to dodge some of the attacks and when he tried to counter, he found himself staring at a small katana or kodachi pointing at his face.

"This is getting interesting..." said CG

"Heh heh you're gonna die..." said Manuel as he attacked downwards trying to crush CG with his sword. CG managed to jump to the side with his eyes staring at manuel's kodachi, just in case.

CG kept dodging and parrying manuel's attacks, trying to find a weak point . Manuel was almost a monster, he could swing that huge sword like it was made of plastic or paper or something weird, maybe titanium. Manuel kept slashing at CG destroying the walls and floor.

"Keep still you bastard!"

"Shut up!"

CG tried to get in close again, but he was stopped by Manuel's kodachi yet again. He moved diagonally towards Manuel and tried to tumble him down but Manuel used his elbow and made CG fall. The 97er practically let his huge sword fall on CG.




CG had blocked the attack using his sword The blade slightly cutting into the other.

"How did you do that?!"

"Did you really think that I wouldn't notice that your sword is almost hollow near the center? How could you move a sword like that one handed if it was well made?"

"How did you notice?"

"When you hit me with your elbow, I noticed that you did that move with your right arm when you used your left the sword had to be very light for you to make that spasm."

Manuel stepped back and dropped his sword.

"...You've changed...I remember when we were in training, that you were the most arrogant guy of them all. I used to hate you...but this fight...this fight showed me the real you."

"...Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Really good thing...when we started this terrorism game, some of us were actually reluctant to do this, including me, but since our leader had a need to fight you guys he made us do this. He even used a weird drug to get some of the militia guys to do it...they may be racists, but they thought twice before starting to kill these kids, it was too evil for us."

"I know about the drug. They used it with the nurse."

"It was surely the ninja. That drug has been used by the top ranked guys in our platoon, since it was the only way we could stand a chance against you guys."

"How come?"

"If you use twice of the recommended amount, you'll beef up your strength and speed. We only had the recommended part, that's why I went back to normal just now, but they...they used almost four times the normal dose!"
CG's stance went lax. "What-?!"

"Oreos and Sarge should watch out, since both of them are the primary objectives...If they let them get into some kind of berserker state, you can only stop them by cutting their head off, since they won't feel a thing." said Manuel


"Now I need you to do me a favor" said Manuel


"Kill me"

"...No, I won't kill you after you recognized your mistakes."

"You have to kill me...I won't live in peace, and I would like to die in your hands."


"Then I'll attack you until you won't have a choice"

He swung towards CG with his kodachi, aiming at his throat. CG easily parried and made him trip.

"I won't kill you!"

The 97er attacked CG yet again, only to find himself staring at the wall before hitting it with his forehead.

"...So?" asked Manuel breathing heavily

"Attack me with all your strength, and I'll do the same. If I don't kill you, you'll dissappear and never come back..."

Manuel nodded "...Deal."

Manuel got in guard, but was heavily impressed after seeing the posture that CG adopted.

I can't believe it! He looks like a real warrior. If all of the 99ers are like this, there's no way we could even beat them...Kenny, you really deserve that nickname

Both of them started the attack at the same time. Manuel was too slow to even see CG's attack. He felt CG's sword cutting through his flesh. He then fell on his knees.

"Thank you...Cool Guy"

Blood poured out from the deep wound upon the side of the panther as he staggered down from the stage and forced himself in the general direction of the hostages. The pain that shot through his body was less of a factor in his deliriousness than the profuse blood loss. His vision blurred momentarily, and his legs felt weak. Tired, drained, he braced himself against one of the bullet-rented seats within the auditorium, barely saving himself from collapsing to the ground. Dark was annoyed with his show of weakness, angered by the fact that, although he had survived, his 97th counterpart had seemingly gotten the best of him. He grit his teeth, shaking his head violently to clear his vision, if even only for a few moments. The children.. He pushed forward. The objective. Closer. Closer, still, until he was a mere foot or so away from the small red squirrels. He twisted his lips into as kind of a smile as he possibly could, and he knelt low.

"We have to get out of here, kids. The battle isn't over just yet."

With that, he began to usher them out of the auditorium and into the hallways, afterwards unholstering his Beretta. The children fell in line behind him without even a word from their savior, and they followed closely as the soldier swept each and every hallway. Things were looking good, and the children had begun to get a bit ancy. They knew they were not far from the entrance to the building, and so they knew that salvation was not far. That is, if they even understood the concept of salvation. More or less, the children were thinking about seeing their parents, their families. About living, surviving through this horrid nightmare. But as the group happened upon the building's entrance, Dark spotted two remaining militiamen. They fumbled for their rifles and, just as they pulled up to fire, found themselves riddled with holes. Unfortunately, as the pain set into the mind of one of the soldiers, he gripped the trigger instinctively. The vast majority of the shots went wide - all of them, actually. Well, all except one. For that one lucky shot tore through the thigh of the panther and sent him to the ground, shreds of flesh and muscle tissues falling to the linoleum in a mix with the crimson liquid that flowed forth.

The children stared on in horror as their savior collapsed, their shoulders bobbing up and down with sorrow. But up again came the soldier, despite the pain wracking his body. He grunted in exertion as he literally pushed himself up off of the floor, attempting to stand just on one leg. He lost his balance, having very little control over his tattered muscle, and was ready to take the fall when his motion stopped. He looked about, quite curious as to what had prevented him from face-planting, when he noticed the children all gathered around him, arms outstretched, pushing him back upwards. He smiled slightly, genuinely. They all held onto him as they headed out of the school's front gate, onto the main road just beyond the courtyard. He covered the children's eyes as they passed the red squirrel who had been tied to the flag pole and executed, and he led them towards the overturned humvee. They all circled around and sat behind the underside of the armored vehicle, enabling them to be safe from any enemy fire coming from the school. Dark painfully pulled himself atop the humvee and sat on the damaged door. He leaned down inside for a moment, grabbing a spare M4 that hung tediously from the rearview mirror. After a quick check of the clip, he readied the weapon and stared off towards the school.

After a long moment, the 99er removed from his uppermost pouch a cigarette, doused in blood. But the tip seemed dry enough, so he easily swiped his metallic lighter from another pocket upon his tactical vest, flipped open the lid, and set the cancer stick ablaze. Smoke billowed from his nostrils as he replaced the lighter back into his pocket. Dark leaned back a bit, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning his weapon upon his shoulder. He listened to the whispers of the children, whispers of the Platoon. Whispers of the rescue. Of their families. Of how they admired the soldiers who fought on their behalf as heroes. Too bad the rest of the world could not see what these children could. Too bad, indeed. Perhaps the innocent mind truly is the most intelligent mind. He shrugged, grinning slightly. Innocence was beyond his reach.

And when I'm gone, just carry on. Don't mourn; rejoice
Everytime you hear the sound of my voice, just know that
I'm lookin' down on you smilin', and I didn't feel a thing,
So baby don't feel no pain, just smile back.


Oreos and Sarge were walking up the stairwell towards the roof. The pain in the back of Oreos' skull stopped throbbing, but it was still there. He looked at Sarge who was in front of him, irritated only by the fact that Sarge was a slow walker.

"You know he did ask me to come up alone."

" What's he gonna do?"

"Probably kill the kids that he brought with him."

" Hm, true. So what's the plan?"

"The usual. We'll make it up as we go along. Give me a few minutes with him alone, to see what he's up to."

" He's going to tell you to drop your weapon or else the kid will die. After you do, he'll shoot you." Sarge stated matter of factly.

"No. He won't do that. Even if though he's a traitor, he still has his honour. Double-0's do not fight like that, it's not our... style. You bring a gun with you?"

Sarge patted his firearms "Got my pistol and my magnum. One clip, one barrel."

"Hey Sarge, why'd you come along? Didn't trust Malteasers... or me?"

"To make sure you don't die on me."

"Ha. Very touching... but I also know old men need company."


Oreos now had two batches of pain unwrapped on his head. They reached the top, and were in front of the single door. Sarge held out his paw.
"It's been an honour."

"What-the-hell... are you saying?"

Sarge shrugged." Just in case. You never know which mission's your last..."

Oreos took Sarge's paw, and gave a hardy pawshake.

"It sure as hell ain't this one, and we'll shake on that."

Malteaser gazed over the horizon at the edge of the roof. It was around 3:00pm (School dismissal time); he could tell by the mob in front of the school. There were police surrounding the area holding off all the angry, grieved, and worried parents. There were reporters, journalists, camera crews also, getting the latest scoop on tonight's, maybe the decade's, big story. There were no SWAT teams, no snipers on any other rooftops, no negotiators; the 99th platoon had been sent in, and they were enough.

One thing was wrong though. There were grey squirrels in the mob too, protesting and demanding the release of the children alongside the reds. This was not expected. Malteaser could sense the disappointment from Barnes when they found out. Their plan backfired. This whole incident brought the two races back together, rather then completely divide them.

It seems the greater good really is what matters. The agent sighed. " Oh well."

Barnes declared the mission over. The primary objectives were completed, but the purpose had failed. Barnes ordered to not harm the remaining children, and kill any surviving mercenaries afterwards. With the 99th platoon, the order was to eliminate as many of them as they could, so each 97 chose their own target.It had been more then five years since he locked horns with Oreos, the distinctive graduate from Double-0 Academy, the top agent from Mi6 earning top ranks and honours, but threw that all away to join the 99th Platoon. He lost to Oreos 5 years ago.

"Sorry to keep you waiting"

Malteasers turned around. There he was, not as his enemy, but his rival. Malteasers reached behind him, and unholstered his pistol. He threw it over the edge. Concertedly, Oreos took out his pistol, and tossed it aside. The 97 then yelled out:

" Hey Rico! You can come out. Barnes is waiting here too."

Oreos looked around, and sure enough, Barnes was behind him, on the opposite side of the roof with his arms crossed in his military outfit.

Sarge stepped out onto the rooftop, chuckled, and headed towards Barnes.

Oreos walked over to the edge, keeping a distance from Malteasers. He could hear the screaming, sobbing, and chaos below. People screaming that the children were innocent, this and that. There was even some vulgar language. But one good thing; the Red and the Greys were in a riot, but they weren't fighting each other.

Looks like the 97th failed.

"Well, I guess it's safe to say we win." said Oreos confidently.

Malteasers sneered. "But the game isn't over yet."


Back inside the school various members of the 99th and 97th were still locked in battle. There were still some loose ends to be tied.

"I'm a 97th member. I have access to the same military hardware as you. That can't do as you say."

"My people have a lot of ingenuity. There are many things we use that others only dream of."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I am not the one you know as Chael. I'm one of a vast number of clones. I've been given select memories from Chael's, artificially aged, and trained for my specific field. As for who you are and why you know my forefather, I have no idea."

'Then allow me to give you the reason you, your maker, and every other one of you forsaken white freaks are going to die. It started in training. Me and Chael learned about explosives together. We both happened to excel at it."

Several Years Earlier

Within a barracks cafeteria, Chael sat drawing plans on a paper. Around him sat other soldiers conversing and eating. One of them, carrying on more loudly than the others, was Chael's rival. He looked several years younger and didn't have metal protrusions in his face. He spoke of disarming bombs in a pompous and unsophisticated manner.

"Then you just snip the wire and it's disarmed. A simple task." Chael looked up shaking his head and spoke.

"A bomb is never simple. It's something to respect, else it will turn on you and destroy you."

"Shut the hell up, Whitey. No one wants to hear what you have to say. You shouldn't even have been allowed into the army and waste the time of people like us."

"I'm just saying that just cause you've seen bombs defused in movies doesn't mean you can."

"That's it you fu…" He got up to attack Chael but the others around stopped him. "You and me in the testing chamber midnight. You bring your work, I'll bring mine and we'll see whose better." He left the cafeteria and Chael returned to his work. Hours later they meet in the testing area, a chamber with various area separated by blast proof glass. They both entered a chamber and prepared. The first bomb was set and Chael began. He quickly removed the outer plate and looked over the inner workings. He snipped a wire and the bomb deactivated. He cleared the area and prepared his opponents bomb.

"As I said, simple." Chael activated the bomb and stepped away. As the other squirrel began, Chael left the chamber, locking it behind him. The panel on the bomb was removed and the squirrel a brick. Inside were all red wires, three times what was necessary for it to work. Besides that, thee was also a timer hat began to count down from a minute a few seconds after the panel was removed. He turned to he chamber door and tried to leave.

"Disarming and doing so under pressure are two different things. You better hurry in 45 seconds it'll blow."

"It's armed!?"

"Wouldn't be a bomb if it wasn't. I'll be a nice guy though and give you a hint. The red one, it's the rd one." The squirrel turned back around. Unable to do anything, he watched the timer as it counted down in slow motion. Once it hit zero a low power blast sent shrapnel from the casing in all directions. He tried to cover his face but the squirrel could only cover half before he was hit.

He turned to Chael. Fragments of metal were sticking out of his arm and face. He grabbed a piece coming from his cheek and screamed in pain before shock started to set in. Chael hit an alarm to call the on grounds medical team and left the room.

"They removed everything from my arm but due to nerve damage couldn't get them from my face. Over the years I've slowly worn as close to the skin as possible. After that I, Franz Poppe, swore to destroy Chael. That's the only reason I agreed to this. Greys and reds are all equal to me; it's the ghostly freaks like you that piss me off. And since there are more of you I'll get to prolong my fun."

"I'm sorry too disappoint you, but we're not an easy group to defeat." The remark enraged Franz as he once again opened a melee assault on Chael.

Pyst and Carrie stood dead center in the auditorium. Back to back, weapons out and covering 270 degrees on both sides. Pyst gripped his mini-gun in his left hand, using his weapon's strap to keep his arm from tiring out. In his right, his shiny new .44 was getting a test run. Carrie had a similar strategy, with her P-90 in her right and a "borrowed" M-4 in her left. They had the entire auditorium covered, finishing off the remaining milita members with carefully aimed bursts. Carrie had perfected the art of one-handed reloading and suffered next to no down time between magazines. Pyst was having trouble keeping up to her pace. His mini-gun's ammo belt was getting shorter and shorter. And reloading a revolver with just your right hand and your teeth required more dexterity than Pyst thought. Carrie ejected the magazines from her assault rifles.

"All clear!" she called.

Pyst emptied the .44's cylinder into the last miltia member, grinning as his body exploding into a giant mess.

"Clear!" Pyst said, returning the .44 to it's holster and his mini-gun back to both hands. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, and gave a thumbs up to his commrades. "We came, we saw, WE ROCKED THE FUCKIN' BOAT BABY!!!" Pyst and Carrie made their way across the carnage to meet up with the other 99ers.

"Where'd Sarge go?" Pyst asked while searching for a match for his cigar

"Hell if I know," CG said, "Him and Oreos dissapeared a while ago."

"Where's Darky?" Carrie asked.

"I saw him slip out with the kids," CG replied, "We should hook up with him."

"Good idea," Pyst said, striking a match, "Once we confirm the kids are safe, I aim to sweep this hell hole and kill any-"

"DOWN!!!" Carrie screamed. Pyst and CG didn't argue, hitting the dirt on reflex. A barrage of bullets sprayed just above their heads. Pyst rolled to his back, brining his mini-gun up and returning fire at the assailant. He barely caught a glimpse of a trench coat wearing squirrel dart away as he opened fire.

"Somebodies got a death wish..." Pyst grinned, spitting out his cigar. "CG! Go on ahead and meet up with Dark. This Asshole's mine!!"

Pyst sprang to his feet, and chased after the assailant. Carrie jumped to her feet and chased after adopted father.

"Wait for me!!!" She called.

A/N: Another chapter is up! Somewhat short I know, but I think it's best that chapter 6 start off with an explosive battle. And like I said before things would start to get hot and it has! But don't be afraid, Please R&R!