User:Mscoree/Revolution: The Movie

' ONLY SCRAW DOES CASTING. STOP MESSING UP THE PAGE. OCT, ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN READ AND WRITE ENGLISH CAN WRITE THIS MOVIE. '

Fools and Gods
Written by Guns

''They were huddled around a table. They were Fools, and they were Gods. They would start a war foolish beyond all others. But when they did, it would be powerful. It would slay thousands. They were Fools, and they were Gods.''

''Others stood too. Some who fought for power; others, for weakness. Some did the right things for the wrong reasons. Others did the wrong things for the right.''

''The war waged was one that no one wanted. It was a war not of Fools and Gods but rather of Humanity.''

''Those who waged it were there on the day that no one could have gotten it right. They were fighting the wrong wars, and the wrong men.''

But still they fought.

They killed.

And they wept.

''It was not a war of Fools and Gods. But it was they who fought.''

It was they who died.

And it was they who wept.

Chapter One


by Mscoree

"w0r is hel. Man are man 2 wofl is ancent kroean saiyng that means we mst fght the tsptf til dead. I am 3th lutenit Mocktogan mario, leadr of the recistnce and the redolution. only we can stamp out tspq curroptun. ouyr newest campiangn is the to spam the wiki so that more people got mad at lg. we meat on the battlefolds of the chat and chant so that lgt nows were serous. it is truelly an excittng time to be a wikimerican. jst today are glorous leadrs hav signed a declaradon saying that lg must join a map game or he will be dead by us and ur gret ruvultun. he has no choce but to make ms brass cus we sed so and were acually powerful. so go get em guys!"

Warman and Ratc clapped heroically as MOckt stood on the soapbox giving his speech. When the two's cheering had died down MOckt began to walk back to the front lines.

"Great speech. Hey do want to join Space Wars Race 5 on the Implauso Future Map Games Wiki?" Asked Ratc. MOckt turned to him for just a moment.

"Sve the spammin for the tsptf...the battle will soon be ours."

Chapter Two
by CrimsonAssassin

''Rockets raced overhead as Warman ducked under incoming fire. He slid for cover behind some rubble. A knot formed in his throat as he reloaded his weapon, preparing to return fire. He could hear their cries on the wind. The harsh sun beat down on the battlefield. The rebels had been backed into a corner. Random anons ran around the battlefield, using horribly-built weapons against the onslaught. An anon ducked into cover next to Warman.''

Dirt and grime covered his face as the horror of war could be seen in the young man's eyes. The revolution had affected everyone. The whimpering soldier acknowledged Warman, reloading his own weapon. "pul urself 2gether, solder," Warman said. "we cant let tha tsptf win." The inspiring words brought a tear to the anon's eye. "Yessir," he said. Jets streaked through the sky as the anon turned to face his opponents, only to be unfairly banned. The man turned to bits before Warman's eyes. He knew that he was next. The terrifying, approaching battle-cries of the TSPTF could be heard, surrounding Warman. "Implausible! Implausible!" the tyrants cried.

"ur cyber bullying me!" Warman screamed, sending a rain of fire at one of the members. The flaming was ineffective as the TSPTF member shrugged off the attack. "IMPLAUSIBLE," it declared, sharply. Right before the freedom fighter met his fate, another hail of fire was sent from an unknown attacker. "LONG LIVE THA REVULUTION" a distant voice cried out. Mocktivian Sorryass had come to save the day.

He immediately vandalized a nearby wall. As the smoke cleared after he finished, it was revealed that the wall now read "NO MOAR". "IMPLAUSIBLE!" a TSPTF member cried out. War is hell.

Chapter Three
by Scrawland Scribblescratch

The rebels were quickly losing ground. The TSPTF had taken control over Swenden, Misuri, and Minnneaplis. Mocktivian was one of the few survivors of the disaster at Minnneaplis and was fleeing to the closest hotspot on the eastern front. He saw TSPTF bombers in the distance as he neared the trench, and suddenly said "The TSPF i sevil1" Truly, in the view of Mocktivian, the TSPTF was a dictatorial government. He swore to defend the revolution with his last breath.

As he drew nearer to the trench, the smells of piss and blood and the cries of dying men became stronger. However, everyone was reinvigorated by the presence of their illustrious leader. "Remmemember men, we have to fite Lorgagon! He cannot win! We had to fite4 ppl like Ms! Ms is teh grettest!" The trench erupted in cheers as they remembered that they were fighting a war for someone who didn't want a war being fought.

MOckt scanned the gray, armless bodies of his men and realized that he would need better men than those that fled from the Non Aligend Movement. The rebles would not succeed otherwise. As the sun set, the frequency of TSPTF planes overhead decreased. MOckt settled into the trench, but he looked up and saw a TSPTF plane writing "END THE ASB" with its contrail. He shouted "THE TSPTF WILL GOSE OUT OF CONTORL ONE DAY!" at the sky with all his diaphragmly power, but knew that it had no effect.

Chapter Four
by Imperium Guy

''Gandhi walks under the white flag with a scallywag swagger. Artillery fires all around, hitting rebel bases hard. The TSPTF have lost many to the battle - many died as they tried to fight the implausibly but they were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and they all quit, with life. The rebels will pay according to the TSPTF but Gandhi has ideas to bring peace to this war torn hellish land. Back when nukes were looked upon with admiration and the devastated world was an opportunity for hope and power, he had felt that life was complete but now? In the background Katyushas fire away...''

The sand was coloured red with all the blood of the fallen. It reminded Gandhi that once he had marched to the sea to make salt for themselves - now he walked on the beach to the rebel camp to stop the nonsense that the rebels called "REVULUTION". Shells exploded all around him, but Gandhi walked on - he was a real swashbuckling peacemaker. He had not walked all this way to be forced back by bad spelling which could be seen all around the broken walls or the explosions of rockets overhead. "FREEDOM 4EVZ!!" and "MOCKTS MAP GAMZ ARE TOTS PALUSBLE" and "TSP ARE STOOPID" whad all been written on the compound walls.

Entering the rebel compound - which was strategically situated inside the magma chamber of a volcano, the stench of death and miserly was strong. The anons and smaller tier users discussed with their glourious leader MOckt about getting the NAM involved into their side. "It wll heppan meen, i beleif it!! Their good users and theyre halp is vitel fur uz to win". MOckt's followers listened enthusiatically. Nevermind that most of them needed a relief break, they would listen to their leader - even if it meant they made complete idiots of themselves if front of each other. Their great leader had showed them the path and they had vowed to follow it.

"OMG, ITS GHANDI!!!", MOckt spoke - who just noticed the great saint enter his bunker. "GHANDI JOIN UR SIDE PLZ - WE NEEd U!". At this time, another member, Dean, spoke up too. "Ghandi Remeber Me? We were bezzies and we had great lolz". Gandhi analyzed the situation and then spoke. "MOckt, you have to stop this madness. Now I know you are known for this type of actions, but keep on going and you will be killed. This implausible war must be ended Mocktavian!". MOckt replied, "I REZPECT U! Y CANT U JOIN MY SiDE? We r sure ta be da winnas. JOIN THE REVULUTION!"

Gandhi knew it has been a waste to convince this Comrade Sorryass, so instead he tried to still gain something out of this. "Dean - you have to see you are fighting on the wrong side. You have been on this planet longer than me, you must follow the enlightened route!" This brought a tear to Dean's eye. "ScREW YOU MOCKT, I WILL FOLLOW DE INLIGHTEND PATH!", Dean declared. Gandhi knew he had saved at least one person from the doomed fate of the Rebles and their Revolution. Gandhi left, with Dean following - away from the compound and back to the path of logic.

MOckt had been humiliated. He declared: "GHANDEE MUST BE KILLED. HE DOZE NOT WANT TO JOIN THE REVULUTION!!". Chants of "Hail Sorryass" grew as his followers took his message to heart. But Dean was committed. He cleared out the path of enemy soldiers and the path to the TSPTF was laid clear. "Dean, your contribution will never be forgotten", Gandhi proclaimed. "Thank you Gandhi, I will make sure to follow the path of righteousness from now on." Gandhi smiled as Dean realised he could now spell properly.

As they walked away, the supervolcano exploded behind him, taking with it the compound. "Hope has returned", Gandhi told his disciple. "Tell the TSPTF MOckt got Mahatma'd."

Chapter Five
by Mscoree

"I knwo not wat weap00ns ww3 wil be fught with...but the revultuion shall be faught with spam and whining."

They thought the super volcano would have killed the rebellion. But it made it stronger...changed it, mutated into a new form. The spam on the live chat was just the beginning. Soon, the rebellion went global. A million million soldiers have joined the fight. But the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"This are Comandt0r Warfan, reporting heavi enemo fire on the lowor wst side thing!"

"whats the sitrep on teh rest of the fleet?" shouted acting officer Mocktivian.

"Unkonw. Were taking multible hits...unkown source." MOckt knew that his submarine had never seen anything like this. Suddenly it came to him.

"ermegersh its, its him...the lg himself."

"We cant take tis kind of flamin! Two more rebles bannd!" MOckt had to make a decision.

"fire the missiles...toward lg."

"but sirz...for serius?"

Meanwhile among the TSPTF fleet the many admins continued their bombardment. Suddenly the ocean grew alive, as a single missile was seen jetting out of Mocktivian's submarine.

"Sir we have a confirmed missile strike! It's heading right for LG's talk page!" The TSPTF tried to retaliate, but it was too late. "It's gonna hit!"

A single message appeared on LG's talk page; "u suk."

War was never the same after that day. I never thought I'd see the day when a war could be fought from miles away, with men simply pressing buttons...the power to annhilate the wiki now laid in our hands. MOckt may have escaped that day, but we managed to track his submarine. We know where his base is, and we're sending our most elite task force of TSPTF members, LG's Rainbow Six has begun. Because war...war never changes.

End of Act One - Intermission

Chapter Six


by Mscoree

“All w0rfar is based on decepsion. For years the lg tyranncy has made the wiki a battelfeld. The currupt talk while ur broth0rs and sons spill ther own blood. The biggr the lie the m0Ar likely the peopel will belive it, and wen a nation cri for vengance, the lie spreads like wildfire. The fire builds devouring everything in its path. Our enemies belive alone they dictat the course iof history, but all it takes is the will of a singl man…”

The world as you knew it is gone. How far will you go to bring it back? For years the TSPTF kept the peace. Mocktivian created a war...but only I knew the truth. The radio crackled with activity as soldiers on the ground cried out reports. Among the chaos a voice was heard in TSPTF Central Command.

“What’s the sitrep on New York?”

“The rebel forum posts have neutralized our air support. As long as they maintain post dominance it’s a losing fight.”

“We cannot lose New York. Are there any special mission units in the area we can request?”

“We got a task force at the south side. Callsign Metal.”

“Overlord, Metal zero one is up on live chat.” The voice of Task Force Metal crackled over the communications network.

“This is Monster Pumpkin. Understand that we are opcon to you, over.”

“MP, the rebels are using spam to block our banhammer. The emission tower is on top of the Nexus. I need your team to destroy it. Their spam is full spectrum, so until it’s down you’ll have no live chat contact or talk page privileges. I have ground assets to get you close, over.”

“Copy all. We’ll get it done.” Monster Pumpkin has left the chat.

The Cougar H rattled and shook as bullets bounced off its armor, and the worn tires skidded across the fields of rubble that lie in the streets. Among the chaos Monster Pumpkin could barely stop to see outside...barely stop to breath. All he saw was forward.

“RPG!” MP closed his eyes immediately, as the vehicle stopped abruptly and shook with the force of the rocket. Smoke and debris penetrated the air in front of him as his head hit the side of the vehicle hard. When his eyes opened he was on his side. The world was on its side. His head rang loudly like a fire horn as he braced himself to get up.

Disoriented, MP pushed the right door open, exposing the transport to the blue sky above, polluted by the smoke of warfare. It’s tranquility was interrupted by rockets rushing in between the monoliths of the concrete jungle. They hit, and the city shook as a building erupted into dust.

Snapping back to reality, MP jumped to the ground, joining the few men around him. “It’s five hundred meters to Nexus...we’re legging it from here!”

Five Hours Earlier.

Chapter Seven


by Scraw

''The island of Manhattan. Formerly called the center of the world, now a devastated battlefield. Many a soldier on either side of the war once hailed from New York. Others were in New York when the revolution broke out. Once such soldier was Gunsnadglory. Guns told his superiors of the coming revolution before it happened, but no one paid him any attention since he was not in the TSPTF because he didn't want to be. Now he is stranded in Manhattan because all the East and Hudson River crossing have been destroyed. In the north, rebles hold the Harlem River crossings, but the TSPTF is struggling to keep control of Harlem. Guns is in Harlem, a loyal soldier for the TSPTF.''

Guns walked up Amsterdam Avenue. Things hadn't been the same since the revolution started. He recalled the Great Fire that burned the Financial District to the ground. He swore vengeance on the rebles for destroying his home. Guns was once part of a small troop that shared his fury. Unfortunately, he was the only one left. He passed a vandalized wall that said "selber eht nioj". He sighed at the utterly horrible reference and bad spelling. Suddenly, bombers flew over head. He heard a voice crying "DETH TO TEH TPSTF!" He ducked for cover behind the wall.

He shot some of the planes with his submachine gun, but the majority of them continued south, most likely to strafe the remains of TSPTF-controlled Midtown. As he got up to continue his trek north, he double checked his surroundings. The evidence implied that this was once a school. Schools were a symbol of the Oldasfuk Regime. Rebles destroyed schools everywhere. As a matter of fact, the revolution started in a school. Guns was not in school. He had been in school for a few years, but that changed when he came to New York. He never went a school again, and assumed that he would not see a school in his lifetime. Once, he would have been glad to be out of school, but the revolution made him realize that some schooling was necessary. He saw a tattered poster that presumably once said "JION TEH REVLOUTIION". It was accompanied by a damaged portrait of the revolution's leader, Mocktivian Sorryass. Guns assumed Sorryass had never once attended a school.

He hadn't realized it, but he had reached the trench. "DUCK!" cried a tall soldier in the trenches. His automatic response was to duck into the trench. He noticed the masses of littered TSPTF badges everywhere. To his left and his right, he only saw three others in the trench. "What's your name?" penetrated his ears. It was the tall person. He had a TSPTF badge. Before he could reply, shots were fired from the enemy trenches two blocks north. He fired back, but the tall man was killed. Guns took his TSPTF badge and shouted across the trenches. "THE REBLES WILL LOSE. THEY CAN'T SPELL THEIR NAME RIGHT!" He was met with equal fervor. "THE TFSTP SUX! JONIT HE RAVLOUTION!"

Chapter Eight
by Guns

''Still on Manhattan, Guns is now faced with a terrible enemy coming up from the South. As Guns was not an official member of the TSPTF, so his enemy was not an official Reble- partially because he could actually spell. Reximus. Latin for "We Ruled". So now, the opposites who were similar faced each other. Both had names that were not true. Both were not official in their party. But He With No Known Ability to Spell was the better flamer...''

The room was quiet.

It was quiet in four ways.

The first quietness was physical; the absence of noise.

The second quietness was mental; the absence of thought.

The third quietness was deep; the patient, slow noise of a group of people who were convinced of their rightness.

The last quietness was of the wiki; the calmness of those who knew that they would win not because they were better, but because they could spam.

In walked Guns, and the quietnesses all decided to leave fast before SHTF.

The Rebles stared quietly.

Ratc hung his head, as Guns quietly surveyed the room.

"So," he chuckled. "The rumours are true."

He looked at the one user who was not looking down in shame or terror.

"Hey, Rex. The Ku Klux Klan called."

Rex raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, they want their ideology back," Guns said, a smile on his face that didn't reach is eyes.

One or two of the rebles laughed, softly, the laugh of men who knew they were dead but found themselves alive.

But Rex only smiled back.

"Well, you know, Guns, the Klan wasn't that bad. All they did was lynch the violent blacks, to enforce the law."

Guns snapped, and a dictionary appeared. He tossed it at Rex and said "Rex, come on. Lynching is against the law.  Look words up before you use them."

He paused and chuckled. "My bad. You probably don't know how to spell it. Let me inform you."

The Mighty One gloriously pulled a gun out of each pocket, a feat that shocked the rebles. None of them could have done they same, and they knew now they were overmatched. Any of them could draw a gun; how many could do it gloriously?

nadGlory (for that was what remained after he took out the Guns) aimed at the wall behind Rex and fired.

L. Y. N. C. H. I. N. G. (n).

And then he smiled. "Now... who wants a demonstration?"

Rex took off his Hitler glasses and looked at his desk.

"All of those who found that funny... get out."

Most of the rebles filed out of the room, grateful to be a little bit further from harm's way.

Rex stood up and smiled.

"Guns, you're a fool. You come here with what? No banhammer, no rollback. The rebles have everything. Spammers, sockpuppets, implausogasms, shit, you name it, we got it. Never bring reason to ASB fight."

Guns smiled back.

"Reason my ass. I brought a flamethrower. But you must have noticed- I've been dishing out massive burns."

Rex's smile dropped off his face for a moment, but then came back- slightly less certain than previously.

"So what? You have limits. Who needs flaming? It's nothing next to the power of spam, or vandalism."

Guns shook his head.

"Je suis le baiseur sur le feu- call me Alan Wake!"

There was a terrifying light.

There was a terrifying sound.

There was a terrifying light.

The rebles fled.

And Rex was no more.

Chapter Nine
by MP

MP looked across the bay. On the other side, Manhattan was no more. Instead of the shining example of human civilization, the island was now a total wasteland due to the war.

MP sighed. He had no more need for this. This "revolution" was so pointless and needless. Nevertheless, MP had to serve, as a member of the TSPTF Army Command, and do his best to quell the rebles.

The battle of Manhattan was still going on, despite the use of the powerful "banuclear" weapon authorized by his Lord some days ago. No matter how hard the TSPTF tried, more and more rebles showed up to continue the fight, under the command of their elusive and persistent leader, General Mocktavian Sorryass.

A short burst of static entered his ear. It was Guns, his chief field agent. "MP, Rex is no more. Ratc has been captured and awaits your interrogation."

MP sighed again. He liked Rex, but Rex had chosen his side, and that was the end of it. A second burst of static was from MP's good friend and fellow commander, SS. SS's troops on the far side were ready, and SS himself was eager to liberate Scraw's beloved New York.

Knowing that the time had come, MP turned to his troops. They looked nervous, uneasy, as they stood in formation, their clean combat uniforms catching the setting sun's rays. They were all fine soldiers, well trained in the arts of banning and rollbacking, but inexperienced.

MP mounted his tank, his second-in-command Viva by his side. MP cleared his throat, took off his general's cap, and began his speech:

"Soldiers and officers of the TSPTF. Today you are here before me, now awaiting the call to battle with the Rebles. I know there is some doubt amongst you. Some of you might believe that we are the true adversity, and that the Rebles are fighting for true justice and equality.

I cannot tell you how wrong the Rebles are. I myself do not know the true horrors that their predecessors performed and were only stopped due to us. Think back to what you were told, not only by the trainers at the academy, but by others, regular civilians, of what people like Owen and Rebelsoldier did. To the Rebles, they are heroes, icons that every Reble soldier to aspire to. To us, they are the very reason why we are needed.

I know how some of you have questionable loyalty to our Lord. I myself have had some disagreements with him in the past. But above those petty squabbles, our Lord is a good man, and without him our wikia would be far worse. Look at what the Rebles have done. Manhattan is in ruins, and regardless of civilian casualties the Rebles still insist on fighting on."

At this point Viva interjected. "I've had it with these motherf---ing rebles in this motherf---ing wikia!"

MP smiled. Viva always had a talent for drama. He continued his speech.

"Before us, there were others who held the line. But now, as generations move on, it is now up to us. Today, we hold the line. Today, we stand up to the Rebles who are at our door! Today we are cancelling the Revolution!"

The entire army broke out into rampant cheering. MP smiled, put his cap back on, and ordered the advance. Thousands of tanks, jeeps, and soldiers climbed over the escarpment and charged towards the city as swarms of missiles, helicopters, and jets flew above them.

The second battle had begun.

Chapter Ten
Written By Guns

''The second battle of New York has started. Guns, MP, Viva, and Scraw have been sperated by the battle, and now Guns is alone with just a few troops, deep in enemy territory. Warman himself, one of the main leaders of the revolution, is attacking him as he attempts to transport his prisoner, Ratc, back to TSPTF lines...''

Guns crouched down. "Burst fire, men. Don't waste rounds. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

His men nodded, but Guns could tell that they were terrified. But that was no matter. If they could transport Ratc back to their lines, the whole damn battle was as good as won. Of course, with thousands of Rebles- mainly sockpuppets- between him and victory, that was looking too likely.

He quickly moved forward, hiding in the cover. The Reble forces had been pushed back, and the TSPTF now held SoHo, TriBeCa, BPC, and the South Street Seaport. but the Rebles were now advancing down 8th Avenue, and had thrown back a TSPTF counter on 14th Street. That had been the latest from MP, before the Rebles had detonated some sort of EMP device. The radio was dead, and so were three of his soldiers, caught in the open as Warman spammed an entire Avenue at once. But Guns knew that this meant that the direct path to TSPTF lines was cut off.

He looked around. "Ok, men, listen up. We need to lose Warman and his troops, so we're taking the long way around. We'll go through Central Park, lose him in the Ramble, then circle around, taking his troops out. From there it's just a few minutes to friendly lines."

His men nodded, grimly.

They quickly ran through the desolated buildings and shattered streets. Once or twice they came into contact with Reble forces, but those were easily disposed of; this far behind the lines, there was no point in leaving troops behind.

On 81st street, Guns took right turn off Lexington, quickly reaching and entering the Natural History Museum. It was totally empty, a sad sight for such a once popular place.

"Ok, guys. Not much further till we hit the Ram- GET DOWN!"

But his warning came too late. Warman, somehow anticipating his route, had cut him off. With the first bursts of fire, almost his entire squad fell.

Screaming, Guns rose and fired out, hitting some Rebles and pushing them back, temporarily.

Two of his soldiers still stood, as did Ratc, but all the others had fallen.

Guns knew that Warman would easily catch them if they all tried to flee.

He turned around. "You two, take the prisoner and run. I'll hold them off."

One of them tried to argue but Guns waved him off and angrily shouted "GO!"

They went, and Guns shouldered his wepaon and stood ready.

The Rebles came from all angles. They hit hard, their weapons of spam and vandalism smashing through the walls and his cover. They created a kill box that almost nothing could survive.

Guns smiled. "My turn," he whispered, and he hit back.

The Rebles fell, shot down by Guns. He was merciless, his fire streaking after fleeing rebles. The first hit him in the shoulder, but he shrugged it off and kept firing. Another hit his leg, and he dropped down to his knee, but kept firing.

And then the others hit him, sockpuppets of those he slew rising up and firing back.

And yet still he fired, and slowly the Rebles died.

Guns collapsed. The Rebles were dead. He had won.

And then he heard Warman approach.

"Cyberbuly Sucm."

Guns looked up.

"Je suis le basieur sur le feu, espece de con. Come at me."

Warman fired.

There was a terrible, ghastly noise. The explosion destroyed the area, completely. It was a kill box...

But the mission was complete.

Chapter Eleven


by Local

As Local picked his way across the ruined streets of New York, he realised that, although he was not on any specific side, the Rebles were beginning to annoy him. They had ruined many good times on chat with their Insurgent Spamming. Enough was enough. Walking over to a fallen TSPTF member, he pulled their Badge from them. He had picked his side.

Local knew that he did not have the power to attack the Rebles on AltHist Wiki, so he moved in on the Reble Fortifications on Map Games Wiki. Pulling rules out of mid air, he flung block after block at Ratc's base. Although Ratc was no longer a threat on AltHist, he remained on the loose here. As Local moved in for the kill, Ratc's many allies here ambushed hm. Local was forced back. There wasn't enough space to use the Banhammer. He radioed for backup, but nothing happened. He cursed. Of course! The other Admin on map games wiki had picked their sides. The side of the Rebles. It looked bad for Local, but then he remembered. He could drive Ratc insane. He ran to ratc's ImplausoGame, and set the protection level to Admin only. Ratc emitted a piercing screech, and collapsed. His followers melted away. The Battle was won. Local had opened a second front.

Local picked up Ratc's gibbering wreck of a body, and flung it back to AltHist Wiki. The War did not belong here. He knew he couldn't stay long. The Rebles were gathering. Local began to walk back to AltHist Wiki, ignoring the Racist Chants of Daxus Inferno, and trying not to make eye contact with the Rebles that hung back behind him, waiting for a weak spot.

Chapter Twelve
By SkyGreen24 and Guns

''The battle at the Museum is over, and Guns and War are dead... or are they?''

Sky was sick of the war, sick of the noise, sick of the hell it had made of his life. He was sick of the TSPTF propaganda, sick of the Reble hate rants.

He had never once doubted who would be the winner of this war. His sympathized with the Rebles but never sided with them and their extremist ways, as many had. Neither did he side with the increasingly fascists and authoritarian TSPTF, as many had.

Instead he took the middle road and tried to survive.

He reflected, now, that it might have been a mistake.

He didn't know why he was walking towards the explosion. His experience so far had been that the further you stodd from the battles, the less likely you were to get shot.

Maybe he was sick of life.

He climbed over the massive crater and knew that nothing could have survived this explosion. The museum had been vaporized. there were no bodies he could see; or perhaps they were covered with rubble.

But there was one thing. A small model of a Blue Car, the trade mark of Guns, one of the TSPTF's fighters, for them though he was not of them. The man who had slain the powerful Rex, who had captured Ratc.

Dead.

He quietly pocketed the car and took a bite of his mango.

He knew he should leave soon. The soldiers would be here soon. Or perhaps they wouldn't. There was fighting to the south, after all.

But he stayed there as he devoured the mango, bits of juice dripping down on his fingers.

Then he took off his helmet and put the car in it.

And then he left. Perhaps he would seek out Mscoree- it was known that he was a neutral in the war, creaotr of the Neutral News Network.

Or perhaps he would go off to die.

Perhaps-

Perha-

Per-

Discussion
Can this be re-written? Guns

I second the motion. ~ Scraw

Tell you what, I'll write an alternate version under it, and then we can sort of... ~Guns

Yeah, sorry bout the original being bad. I was planning to redo it today, since I was in a rush last night when writing it, but this one is good. Thanks

k then. 20:40, November 25, 2013 (UTC)

Chapter Thirteen
by Mscoree

New York City was only just the beginning. Soon other cities across the globe fell under siege. As all the fighting spread, Mocktivian was still at large. They needed a task force like no other, to find him...and end the rebellion.

We are LG’s Rainbow Six...a task force of some of the best agents on the wiki. When Mocktivian slipped out of our reach all hell broke loose...but we tracked him. We’ve been following his submarine for months and now it’s time to strike.

But it wasn’t always this way. We pulled their file. CrimsonAssassin; trained killer, loose canon. When he’s not drunk he’s somewhere in the map game circuit. Made a living as an assassin for hire. Then there’s Scraw; noted badass, veteran of war...but war changes a man. Gandhi was a surprise addition. When diplomacy fails war becomes an option...and he is the option. Vivaporious; he’s a real quick talker and knows how to get the job done. Pulled him straight out of the Battle of New York. Lastly we got FirstStooge; sure to keep calm when the fire fight starts. But where was six?

Mscoree was a mystery. The proclaimed leader of the revolution, sympathizer for the other side. That must be why he’s so hard to find. It was a dark, dusty bar on the outskirts of town. Out of reach of even the most talented political dissidents. At the bar a scruffy man sat, hunched over the bar, as a cloaked man approached him. After some short conversation it soon became clear his true intentions.

“You’re the man himself,” said the cloaked man. Mscoree looked away annoyed at the comment.

“How’d you find me.” he paused. “Why are you here?”

“We need you. You know how to speak st00pid and communicate with them...you were once-”

“That was a long time ago. I’m beyond that,” said Mscoree as he motioned away from the TSPTF operative before him.

“Wait!”

“Why should I help you? The same government that traps me here in hiding?”

“Because I am...like you.” The operative lifted up his cloak to reveal his true identity. “I am Guns!”

“How is that possible? I read about your death,” asked Mscoree, shocked by Guns’ true identity.

“I am like you...a non TSPTF serving in a TSPTF war. I did my time in the service, and now I’m here for the same reason you are. We’re all running from something.”

Chapter Fourteen


by CourageousLife

'''Several hours earlier. . .'''

Cour was in the thick of it. He had been around a while, but this was one of the stickiest situations he had been in to date. He looked up, saw planes approaching, and quickly ducked into an abandoned garage. It didn't matter what side the planes were on - at this point, both sides would shoot if they even thought you were a sympathizer with their enemies.

He took in his surroundings. The garage was dark, but there was just enough light to see a large object hidden by a tarp in the middle of the room. Cour flung the tarp off, and was amazed to find a brand new dark colored sedan under it. He went in search of the keys. He found them sitting on the desk in the manager's office. He bolted back to the car, revved the engine, and sped away.

Though he didn't know exactly where he was going, he did have a general idea - away. He had friends on the TSPTF, but he doubted they had time to help him. As he wound through the back streets and side alleys, he thought about his early encounters with the rebels. Back then, there had been no 'rebel' movement, but many people had many similar ideas.


 * It was late, and Cour was lounging around at his favorite restaurant. In walked a man that he didn't know. They struck up a conversation, very light and casual. Then, all of the sudden, the stranger stood up, kicked the barstool out from under the patron next to him. The patron fell, struck his head on the floor, and remained motionless. The stranger kicked him once in the ribs, then sat back down and resumed the conversation.


 * Cour was stunned. Casually, he reached for his phone, intending to call the TSPTF. 


 * "Thts not a gud idea." the stranger commented. The jumbled speech came out cool, like an autumn breeze, but the undertones sounded distinctly threatening. He opened his jacket, and revealed two pistols. 


 * Cour reached around to put his cell phone back, very cautiously, as not to upset the man. But, when he braced himself on the bar, he kicked his legs, catapulting the barstool towards the stranger. In the same motion, he launched himself over the bar, reaching for his own pistol.


 * The stranger whipped out his pistols and started shooting. Cour returned fire from the doorway of the kitchen. The few other patrons remained where they were, frozen in fear. He grabbed his cell phone and began to dial for the TSPTF. The stranger saw this, then unleashed a series of shots to cover his retreat to the door. When he reached the door, he turned and sprinted down the sidewalk. 


 * Cour looked at his cell, the number still not completely dialed. He turned his phone off, and put it back in his pocket. Let someone else take care of it. 


 * "Who was that?" he asked the other patrons.


 * From the back, he heard someone slowly reply "That was Dax."

Up ahead, Cour spotted a group of TSPTF soldiers. They were manning a road block. He stopped the car, and was about to throw it into reverse when he spotted a familiar face. It was Guns, one of his old friends. He stopped in front of the roadblock, jumped out of the car, and waved both his hands over his head. Guns spotted him, and walked over to greet him.

"What's going on?" Cour asked.

"The TSPTF is a little tied up right now. I'm defending some of the only territory we have left here in Manhattan."

"What about all of the others? What about Von and Pita?"

"What about them? They've been gone for a long time." replied Guns. He looked back at his men, who were scanning the horizon. "We are a little short staffed at the moment."

Then Guns' face lit up. Cour knew that look. Guns pulled something from his back pocket and showed it to Cour.

"It's a TSPTF badge. I know you've dealt with this kind before, and we could really use your help." He pulled his radio out and switched the channel several times. "Lord, this is Guns. I'm authorizing a new TSPTF member."

"Who?" the clipped response from the other side of the tinny radio speaker was still shakingly powerful.

"Cour, sir".

"That's a negative. He's not stable or reliable enough. Lord out."

Guns looked back, disappointed. "Well," he said, looking straight into Cour's eyes, "there's nothing more to be said about that. I'll try and get some of the other commander's support, but for now, the Lord's word is law. The least I can do for you is let you through the roadblock."

Cour clasped Guns' forearm, then swiftly returned to his vehicle. He heard Guns shouting at his soldiers, and the barricade rolled away. He stomped on the gas, and took off, heading for the last TSPTF controlled bridge off of the island.

Some time later, after speeding through Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore, on his way south, Cour was getting agitated, so he turned on the radio. Most stations these days were either TSPTF propaganda broadcasts or Rebel Hate Rants. He finally found the station he was searching for, NNN, the Neutral News Network. Between the static, he could hear the announcer's voice...


 * "And in other news . . . many dead . . . Manhattan . . . including Gunsnadglory."

Chapter Fifteen
by Local

Local fell to his knees in disbelief. A rifle with a helmet on top, and Guns' Profile Picture leaning next to it. He was amazed by this. The Mighty Guns was dead? The slayer of Rex. The one that took down ratc. Only one Reble could have done this. 'Warman'. He was also recorded as dead, but Local knew better. He had battled Warman on too man occations. He would know if he was dead. Local looked up from Guns' grave, with eyes full of murder. As he walked away, Local swore to himself that he would watch Warman die.

Chapter Sixteen
by  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

Before the war...

The whole of time and space stared him in the face. Everything that happened, could have happened, or will happen was happening all at once before him. From here, CrimsonAssassin could see the recent activity of all time. From the Principia Moderni world to the Magnam Europae timestream, he had a hand in multiple universes. Looking at the Magnam Europae universe, he remembered the marriage between Irene of Athens and Charlemagne. What a lovely ceremony. Crimson took a sip of coffee before turning his attention to the blog posts.

As a member of the Time Stream Protection Task Force, Crimson was responsible for looking over space and time. In another point in time, he could see a group of people gathering around one man. Taking a closer look, Crimson stepped into the commune. It was a Roman Forum. The cries of rioters could be heard for miles. As Crimson walked through the crowd, he took a look at the man. Mocktivian Sorryass. The man was known for his radical tendencies, but what MOckt was saying bordered on treason.

" It seems to be geting pretty filthy this "Revolution" so i am preposing the Revolutionary Council (The Rebles), the non aligend movement, and the TSTPF can reslove are differnces on here and than have a final treaty posted on a blog and vote should it be accepted or not!" The approving sound of rioters was intimidating, even to a TSPTF member. Crimson knew this was the start of something. Something big. He stood back as the rioters stared at him. They began to advance towards him. Crimson leapt out of the time stream, escaping from the rioters. It was the beginning of a rebellion.

The next day in the commune was just as bad. It was known for a place where users let their hair down. The locals called it 'chat'. It was pure anarchy as MOckt inspired more rioters. As the situation grew dire, three TSPTF members entered the commune and attempted to calm the rioters. It was no good. Crimson marched forth to put a stop to it. "Stop this fighting right now," he said. He was generally light-hearted, but this had gone too far.

"Who do you think you are?" one of the rowdy members of the commune said.

"I'm Crimson. I'm a Constable from the planet Earth in the OTL. I have one heart and-"

He was interrupted by a flying brick. He recognized the thrower. Ratc. He approached the man and used his Constable powers to tear Ratc's voice out. A squeaking could be heard from the man's voice before nothing could be heard. "Your voice will return in two hours," Crimson said with a sorrowful look on his face. "I am so so sorry."

The act had to have been done. Unfortunately, the rioters didn't see eye-to-eye. Crimson didn't know this, but Ratc would soon go on to become one of MOckt's assistants in the revolution.

Now

The time stream was much more empty. Looking at time and space used to give Crimson such a thrill. With the war raging throughout time and space, the universe was a lot more empty. To Crimson's right was another constable, Yank. Crimson shook his head and said, "We need to end this war before it destroys this universe," looking at Yank. The two had talked about a quantum banner before. The quantum banisher was an end-all device. It would ban the rebels at the same time, sending them out of time. It was a last-ditch effort, but it was the only way. "Is there another way?"

====Chapter Seventeen ====  by Imperium Guy 

''Gandhi stood on the beach in bright sunlight. The environment was tranquil, away from war. The waves came in calm and politely, almost as if they respected the beach and did not want to cause offensive. It was obvious this is nowhere in the western hemisphere. The clear and warm weather of India was in stark contrast to the weather over the war zones of the west. Gandhi began to think. ''

He had been keeping up with events but had stayed far from the war. When news came of failed offensives by the TSPTF, he had chuckled a little. How could those manage such a war on this feat. And then it came to him. Only he and the commander of all TSPTF forces had the power to block multiple times at once. Lord had to be protected but Gandhi could face the war, the war which was rattling the planet.

"Sir?", enquired Dean Chandra Sims. Since his rescue, Dean had become quite the protege. Reading into classic rebel fighting tactics, he had been inspired by the local Subash Chandra Bose and had formed into such personality. He had soon become a footsoldier in the TSPTF, seeing his lifelong ambition complete. "Yes Dean?". "We have received confirmed whereabouts of Crim". "Good work, take some time off. The planned counter offensive begins soon." Gandhi advised him. "Sir, yessir".

Gandhi too headed to hibernate, he was going to have to first lead the combined TSPTF forces of India and China as well as his comrades, the Russians. It was going to be a big offensive, planned to take place in a week. As Gandhi went to sleep, the essence of Imp awoke.

"What the hell HAPPENED? Peace and cooperation was finally returning and the revolution destroyed it all. Why MOckt, WHY?" Imp thought. He could not handle it the last time, so had to give up control and go into hibernation, allowing Gandhi to set a path for him. For one week, he would be awake and he would make sure he made the bastard pay.

<p style="border-bottom-width:0px;border-left-width:0px;font-style:inherit;font-weight:inherit;margin-top:0.4em;margin-right:0px;margin-bottom:0.5em;margin-left:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-right:0px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-left:0px;vertical-align:baseline;">Crim was not in a good mood by the time Imp arrived. He was pleasantly surprised to see Yank there too and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. "Where have you been Imp? Things have got out of hand completely. The rebles have completely destroyed many of our footsoldiers and me and Yank have had to begin planning a desperate measure to stop this war", Crim said. "Yo Imp. We could really use your help right now". It was Yank this time. "I agree and I apologise. Things were not going great for me mentally and long story short I have just got back to the world." Yank and Crim noticed the wispiness of Imp and realised what he meant. "Oh. Well can you at least do something?". "I thought you might ask", replied Imp with glee as he focused on what seemed to be empty air. From the eastern hemisphere, rockets automatically launched filled with bans. It was time for Imp to use his power. Suddenly, over the skies of North America, the rockets hit home into rebel armies. Bans devastated the reble forces who were destroyed in one engagement. The reble forces had suddenly lost some of their most valuable troops and for the first time in a long time, the TSPTF struck back. <h3 style="border-bottom-width:0px;border-left-width:0px;font-style:inherit;font-weight:inherit;margin-top:0.4em;margin-right:0px;margin-bottom:0.5em;margin-left:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-right:0px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-left:0px;vertical-align:baseline;">

<h3 style="border-bottom-width:0px;border-left-width:0px;font-style:inherit;font-weight:inherit;margin-top:0.4em;margin-right:0px;margin-bottom:0.5em;margin-left:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-right:0px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-left:0px;vertical-align:baseline;">Epilogue

Never Give Up; Never Give In
Written By Guns 

''And so they fought. Their heroes died around them, their armies fell, their accounts were banned, and yet they fought. Neither could gain the advantage. Neither could stand against the foe, but neither could destroy him either.''

And so they fought, knowing that all that remained would be destroyed, soon.

If life continued as it did.

And one, who was dead and yet not dead, stood, and watched.

Another stood and acted.

Another begged for peace and yet fought in war.

And so they fought.

Never Give Up.

Never Give In.

Six words.

And for them they died.

Facilis Decensus Averni
Written By Guns

Easy is the Descent into Hell.

Hard is the rise out of it.

But all must rise-

All must stand-

All must die-

And so they fought.

And they rose.

And they stood.

And then they died.

And then they rose and fought again.

Easy is the Descent into Hell.

Facilis Decensus Averni.

Chapter One
<p style="text-align:center;">by Scraw

Scraw sat in an abandoned Starbucks. He didn't like coffee; he never had, but it had working heat and a stove, unlike the rest of London. London was once a great city too, like his native New York. He had seen both of them decimated. But he had seen more than cities decimated. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. Three cloaked figures entered, surrounding by a cloud of snow. They carried fourth, tied up person. The person's head was covered.

One by one, everyone took off their masks. "Crim. Viva. Guns." He acknowledged his comrades. Once they all had real names, real identities. But the revolution changed everything. It was not yet a struggle to remember his birth name, but he remembered what Crim had once said to him. It was from a conversation long past, during the early days of the revolution.

''December 16, 2013. The revolution has been raging for a month. Already Mocktivian and his allies begin to take control over major locations. The Rebles had set up a new capital at what they called Minnneaplis. Or Minepoalis. Or Minnipolies. Or Miniaplz. They were not an enlightened bunch. They started from the West Coast, and forced their way east. The Atlantic seaboard was still secure, but the TSPTF began to accept new recruits amongst its ranks. Emergency meetings were frequently called. Many a constable was sent on a mission behind the Mississippi, where the rebles were being held. Today is the day of one such meeting, the report of one such mission.''

The TSPTF was once again meeting in Toronto. It was not an ideal location, but the collapse of the Canadian government allowed the TSPTF to move north and hold the rebles at the border between Ontario and Manitoba. Several good men were lost there. But Toronto was secured. The TSPTF chose it over the more obvious locations of Washington and Philadelphia.

Scraw, Crim, and MP took their seats at the Assembly Building. They were in the far back, far from the center of the semicircle. Lordganon and his fellow Brass were sitting at the center. Scraw took note of the great emptiness between the Supreme Chancellor and himself. The Chancellor was not alone at his desk today, a rare occassion. Scraw looked to his far left, where the senior constables were seated. He noted Yankovic270 being far from others. In the past, Yank had been involved in famous debates with the Chancellor. His motives were frequently questioned by Lieutenants. Whatever the Chancellor was saying and whatever Scraw was thinking was cut off by Lieutenant NuclearVacuum requesting permission to address the joint members of the TSPTF. "Permission granted, Lieutenant" replied the Chancellor.

"Um, yes sir. The rebles are becoming quite strong along the front. They have begun mass duplication in an effort to distract myself and other Lieutenants from the battle. LurkerLordB was killed in Chicago when they pushed across the Mississippi. We also lost KingSweden in the effort to push them back. Also, vandalism has gripped the interior. Pages along the Gulf, especially in Florida, are being vandalized by pro-rebles. The Non Aligned Movement has also taken off."

Scraw was starting to fall asleep when Crim distracted him. "Say, do you think the Lieutenant knows what he's talking about?" It was a strange question. NuclearVacuum was a level headed person who normally understood the gravity of a situation. He elected to respond with a joke. "Well, I bet he knows what he's saying as well as he knows his birth name." Truly, many senior TSPTF members were no longer capable of remembering their origins. Scraw was a newer Constable; he did not suffer this fate. "Hmm, the longer you wear a mask, the more you forget who you are underneath it." This struck deep into the mind of Scraw. He wondered if Crim really was who he said he was. Was he once another person? Would he forget? Crim was a great figure of question, but Scraw lacked the proper question.

Chapter Two
By Mscoree

Mscoree’s Journal

London was not the same. What was once here has no meaning. To be a hero...had no meaning. Meeting with the TSTPF left a bad taste in mouth. A bunch of flabby failures who sit whimpering in their basements. Why are so few of us left active, healthy, and without personality disorders? It was still raining when I left the meeting. I felt like I didn’t belong, like the world enveloped around me. I wasn’t like them. They were comfortably living as people starved. But once a man has seen society's black underbelly, he can never turn his back on it. Never pretend, like they do, that it doesn't exist.

Reminds me of why I first left this business. He was a typical vandal...so I thought. He prowled across the wiki’s pages, until he came to his target. I was determined to stop him. I had searched for him. But I wasn’t prepared for what I found; he was searching for me. He had the entire NotLAH page blanketed with profanities, and it was only in his infancy. When I was down with him he was begging to be arrested. Men get arrested. Dogs get put down.

The light drizzle of London snapped me back from reality, as the sun gently disappeared behind the late mist. The Chancellor had made a decision. With New York nearly lost we had no other choice but to deploy the task force...for better or for worse. We thought we knew where Mocktivian was hiding. We had searched for him thus far. I just hope we’re prepared for what we find.

'''See here, Ms, the Assembly was Scraw's flashback. In reality, you're the person that Crim, Viva, and Guns brought to Starbucks.'''

'''I'll change Toronto to London I guess. Our meeting in London should take place before this as well. '''

Chapter Three
<p style="text-align:center;">The Threats of War <p style="text-align:center;">by Cour

Cour was pissed. The assault on the Gulf pages went further than he thought. He got as far south as Montgomery, Alabama, going through the back country, before he met any resistance. This resistance was small, just a few sockpuppets and minor vandals, but the location wasn't secure. That's when he had turned north. He was headed towards Toronto, which was where he had heard that the TSPTF was concentrating before all of his radio cut out.

If it had to be the Rebels or the TSPTF, Cour figured that he would pick the TSPTF. He didn't agree with the Fascist government, but at least there was some structure and a desire for constructive growth. Not all of this crap the Rebels were pulling.

He knew that west of the Mississippi was a mess, and he was not planning on going anywhere near Minneapolis, or whatever the Rebels had renamed it. He planned on taking Route 65 as far as Indianapolis, then riding Route 69 the rest of the way to Toronto. Which was how he ended up in Nashville.

He had seen some of the advanced scouts in Montgomery testing out these new weapons.

Well, they weren't really weapons, Cour thought. More like monsters.

He didn't know exactly what to call them. He supposed they were some kind of troll, but they weren't exactly trolls either. Some anon had apparently figured out a way to turn a regular visitor into a full out beast. They looked like dogs, but not the small little Chihuahuas. They were more comprable to Great Danes in size and weight, and built to hunt down users. They didn't speak at all, but when they caught users, they chewed until they hit bone, deleting edits, crashing pages, and flaming users as they went. Again, Cour had no idea how this new threat worked, and had no desire to get close enough to check.

The advanced scouts in Montgomery had released a captive. Just a regular user Cour didn't recognize, but a user just the same. After a quick headstart, they released the dog thing, a Beast, as he had come to call them. It bounded up to the user and made quick work of turning it into a chew toy.

When Cour had reached the outskirts of Nashville, he parked the sedan in an abandoned barn several miles outside of the city. He had spent the night cramped in the backseat, too nervous to sleep out in the open. When morning dawned, he slowly ventured into the city proper.

When he reached the middle of the city, he decided that it was officially abandoned. Not a soul stirred in the entire place. And that's when he saw the cache.

It sat in the middle of the intersection, probably left over from one of the two armies. And it was huge. It had everything - guns, ammunition, rockets, grenades, gases, you name it. Cour decided to stock his car, in case he ran into trouble later on. He opened the door and went over to inspect the pile. He immediately picked two brand new pistols, and put the extra ammunititon in his backpack. He also stuffed in a few grenades, a can of tear gas, some flares, rations, and a sawed-off shotgun. He also picked some combat knives to put on his person. That's when he heard the howl.

From down the street, he saw three Beasts staring directly at him. They looked for a few seconds, then shot after him. Cour realized that he would have to run towards them to get to his car, and the Beasts would reach it before he did. He turned and bolted in the opposite direction, down a side street. He heard the Beasts behind him, so he reached back and grabbed a grenade. He pulled the pin and dropped it at his feet and kept running. The blast shook the alley. He looked back in time to see the two walls on either side of the alley collapse on the Beast in the rear. Cour grabbed a combat knife from his belt, quickly turned, and threw it at the leading Beast. He turned before he saw it hit, but he heard the Beast go down with a solid thump. He turned the corner, back towards his car. He could make it.

When he reached the open street again, he released the tear gas into the alley behind him. He hoped that would slow the last Beast in pursuit. He jumped into the car, threw it into reverse, then put it in drive, to speed back towards the outskirts. The remaining beast tore through the cloud of tear gas, standing between Cour and freedom.

"Eat it, mutt!" Cour yelled as he floored the accelerator, and smashed into the beast head-on.

Well, not head on.

The Beast moved fast, but not fast enough. He crashed into the Beast's back flank, spinning it sideways. He zoomed away, southwards to find another route around the city.

A shadow crept out of the alley and knelt by the injured Beast.

"Hada hit bye the Nashvel cash." it spoke into the radio. "Nut shore witch user it wuz." Silence. "2of the expirements r down, 1injurd." A longer pause. "Glad to here tht, sur. I'll intircept rite away."

Chapter Four
Written by Local

Warman moved slowly along the ground. Not only was he stalking his next target, but the wound from his battle with Guns was giving him trouble. Warman stopped, leaning against a rock to catch his breath. 'Ths iz rlly pianfl' he muttered.

Then he heard a voice out of the darkness that surrounded him. "Hello, Warman. I've been looking for you a long time. We have a lot to talk about"

Warman, who had tensed when he first heard it, relaxed, and replied "LOCUL! Join the Revulution!" Warman had expected a joyous cry of 'I WIL JOIN THE REVULUTION", was surprised to hear a low, sinister laugh. "Oh Warman... I would never join you. That line was crossed months ago" Warman was amazed. "But ur not in the TSPF!" Local, for that was indeed who it was, replied in a quiet violent tone "No. But I have a vendetta against you." Warman was most confused "Wot did I du?" Local smiled, and without answering, pulled out his Pistol. He had named it sarcasm. Local fired once. He fired again. And again. Warman's corpse slumped to the ground, and Local smiled. He had caused 2 of the three Reble leaders to die. Only Oct remained. Local was rather annoyed that he was not in the strike team that was being sent to kill Oct, but that was of no object. He knew one thing that gave him the edge over Rainbow 6. The location of Oct. He set off. He had a lot of ground to cover. Italy was a long way away.

Chapter Five
By Dax

(I am currently writing this on a Kindle Fire. Apologies for any bad grammar and typos. Constructive criticism is constructive).

Dax just needed a damn break.

The Rebels were loading rapidly, and he was exhausted. He was a scientist, not a damn soldier! His job was to develope weapons and keep what we're called Map Game Simulation s stables, not fight on the front line! Unfortunately, when the TPSTF broke down the rebel occupied lab he had to pick up a gun and fight. He had managed to take a few down, but all he wants now is a ticket back to the haven of the Map Game Wiki.

"U luk teyerd, D1," another nameless and faceless rebel said, shouting loud to be heard over the drop ship's engine.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, UNTERMENSCH!" Dax shouted, not wanting to hear any more of the filthy St00pid speak the the rebels use.

He was in the wrong group, he knew. He wanted out. He had the intelligence of the TSPTF but the motives of a Rebel. No, actually. The Rebels wanted the world to be run the way they liked: by Rebels for Rebels, and a world ran by these rebels was a ugly world indeed. All Dax wanted was the Dark Lord to be gone. He didn't even want the rest of TPSTPF gone, just the the leader. The leader who as of late has relaxed somewhat and seems not to trouble him so much.

No, all Dax wanted to read ​The Purgatorio  in his backyard on a sunny day with his pet Shoggoth, a tall glass of water and a tab is acid.

"H3y men, u should b n1ker 2 ppl," the rebel said.

Dax couldn't take the rebels anymore. He drew his favored Walther PPK/E which he then used to shoot the Rebel sitting next to him in the head. The other Rebels in the drop ship gasped but none made any action against him, he was too important, and they would undergo quick discipline from their superiors if they they took action against him. He was useful and competent, and the Rebel leaders knew that.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Dax asked.

"Vencuv3r" a Rebel

Dax sighed, he hated Canada. In hid opinion America should have annexed it long ago. He checked his pocket for the cyanide pill, just to make sure it was there.

Chapter Six
Written by Local

Local walked away from the Corpse without a backward glance. Warman knew what he had signed up for, and Local had a long way to go. As he walked, he remembered how he had learnt of MOckt's location

'A few months earlier

''Local leaned against a wall, as he wheedled information out of MOckt's most loyal general, Ract. Ract was mindless drivelling about his latest implausible game, as Local pressured him for information. "I will join, if you tell me where MOckt will hide if his revolution goes badly...". Desperate for players, Ract told Local "IDK, but he sayed it wuld B the sme as hes frst nton on NotLAH". Local knew immediately that MOckt would hide in Rome. He talked to Ract a little longer, and found a specific location. Local then left the chat, as Ract called after him "Wil u join my Game????????????????????????????????". Local shrugged, whilst thinking "Good God no."''

Local snapped out of his reverie. He had reached the Airfield. It was a rebel airfield, but that mattered not. A few minutes later, it was Local's airfield, and 12 anon rebels lay dead. He calmly climbed into a Helicopter, pushing the deseased pilot onto the floor, and took off.

Two Hours later

Local landed his helicopter in Rome, and walked briskly past the Rebels, avoiding eye contact. A few minutes later, he reached the Safe House. Two Anons stood guard. Local cried 'GOLRY 4 TEH REVULUTION', and shot them both when they replied. He walked in, Sarcasm held up. He was going in.

Chapter Seven
Written by tob

Toby breathed in. He had just taken Orlando, and barely escaped with his live, he returnd to Talahassee to a rebel encampment along with 70 soldiers he took back, while the TSTPF loyal in the city were killed or arrested by who stayed to patrol.

First he saw was Ninja and 20 others.

"Orlando is taken, what is next," said ninja, to which Tob replied "we take Jacksonville and florida is ours'. I heard of the possible pro-TSTPF bombing in Pensacola City Hall, did you catch the guy?"

"Yes", Ninja replied, slightly overjoyous. the mood in the rebel camp was like that all over...until...

Then the news blared on.

The reporter spoke news came out about the blooody New York campaign being a total bust for the rebels (scene of Rex being killed, followed by dead bodies, both TSTPF and rebel, lying about"

"Fuck" said Toby, kicking a trash can "Cant Ratc do anything right..."

Ninja replied "hey at least guns is dead, thats a plus"

"we should get working on Jacksonville" said Toby.

Toby thought. He knew the TSTPF had to go, but didn't he want Mockt as there leader. For starters, he couldnt spell, and his implausogasm policies are a bit undesirable.

The truth was, he wanted power over the wiki. He was lucky to be successful so far in Florida too. It is one of the most desirable locations, under California and New york, which the later was hopeless.

Healways wrote in his book what he wished to accomplish, and his philosiphies. He didnt know he would never complete it, and how it would change the war....

Two days later

His and Ninja's squad reach Fort Jacksonville. They call for reinforcements, but none come. They duck under the hill so no one sees them.

"Where the hell are they?" asked a marksman loading his gun " they need to get there ass out of quebec, its taken and secure."

"STFU" Toby said, puling out binoculars.

He scanned the Fort, he saw men that easily outnumbered them, aswell as tanks, choppers, this would be hopeless without a bomber at hand. Then he saw men gather come from barraks into the courtyard. this puzzled him, but thne he saw someone stannd up to a podium. This wasnt just any man, this was NukeVac, a high ranking general, and LGs right hand man. Toby passed the binoculars over to Ninja and another officer.

"Is that him" Toby asked, with dax replying; "sure is."

"You know what an edge this would be if he was dead, we could psush west."

"we arent getting through that" said ninja, but tob sad "we cant, there numbers couldl change the tide of this front"

The marksmen took out there rifles, and zoomed on NukeVac, ready to fire, as Tob called for backup, specifically a bomber, from the base at talahassee.

Then, without order, one fired.

Toby could remember the whole moment, as if the bullet moved in slow motion. The bullet missed. knowing it was now or never, the second fired right after, this one hitting its target. Nukevac was mortally wounded, he would later on die.

The crowd went into a frenzy, and the marksman fired again. this time fire came back. they were outnumbered 2 to 1. They knew this wouldnt end well.

But then 3 bombers came on asked, aswell as 50 more men and some humvees. the bombs were aimed at there vehuicles, and the airfield, destroying alot. The men began to push intio the fort.

Then a man came and shot a 2 bullets into Tobs leg and chest before being shot by an unknown soldier. Tob didnt know it then, but this man had just saved his life. The bullet had miraculously hit no vital organs..

He fell to the floor, with support from ninja and the officers, but then he blacked out, with his final thoughts, "this is what being dead feels like."

But he did not truly know- not yet.

A few hours later

Tob woke up at the infirmary.

"Was it taken?" Tob asked, to which the nurse replied yes.

"Where is Ninja, and Dax?" asked Toby.

"Dax is still here... but Ninja has gone to Rome to be with Mockt."

The soldiers were on there way to taking Jacksonville, and then Florida was theirs. The pain his leg was decreased by morphine.

Soon after, Jacksonville fell. a huge victory, but they celebrated shortly. Cuba and Georgia were both under TSTPF control.

Slowly, Toby's leg healed, and he sat in the meeting room.

Meanwhile..a TV blared "Unknown man attacked guards in rome."

Then, the sound of people being killed was heard-

And then Guns came.

Chapter Eight
Written By Guns

At the same time as Chapter 7...

Guns stood, and looked around.

There were only four people who knew that he still lived; Crim, Viva, Scraw, and Ms.

It was time to change that.

This was a major Reble base. Almost Ten thousand Sockpuppets were stored here, and more of those bot-beasts that preyed on Users. All major operations in the Gulf were based from here. Sixteen TSPTF attacks in the last month alone had failed, resulting in the death of two constables, a neutral, and a Lietenant.

And it was all headed by Toby.

The first reble lay dead on the floor as he calmly entered the building. Another one hid behind the door he was supposed to be guarding and attempting to call for backup, but died before he could even raise the radio.

And then Guns was in the building.

Some might have attempted to go through ventilation system, but Guns knew what he was doing.

The rebles had heard of him. The Mighty Guns, who had slain Rex and captured Ract, who had defeated Warman and his entire legion singlehandedly, and who had been killed doing so.

Or not.

"BUT UR DED!" screamed one of the Rebles as he jumped out of his corridor and attacked Guns.

Guns shot him without even stopping. Dead men don't walk down hallways, he thought dryly.

He found what he was expecting at the next intersection; a hostile reception.

20 Rebles, each with around 5-6 sockpuppets, a force large enough to make anyone but a Brass member back off.

Well, Guns wasn't a member at all. He stood absolutely no chance.

Same as the chance he had stood against Rex, Ract, and War...

The carnage lasted just 16 seconds, and Guns counted each one.

He had to admire Toby's thinking. That force there would have been the security force. They could muster up more no doubt but it could take hours.

So while Guns was distracted and fighting off large groups of Rebles and Sockpuppets, Toby would activate as many of the bot-beasts as he could, and send them all after Guns- followed by himself and his guard- not to forget, of course, Ten Thousand Sockpuppets.

Guns welcomed it.

He calmly sat down and crossed his legs. His rifle lay spread across his lap, as he closed his eyes.

He heard the sound of the approaching bots before they came, thumping through the corridors, the entire structure shaking as they smashed into walls, the screech of metal as they punched through the doors leading to the interception, and the screams as they died in the hail of death he created.

The Sockpuppets arrived then, and swiftly thought the better of it. Guns had no banhammer to defeat them but he could easily mark them, and the missiles which Imp had launched found their targets exactly, bans smashing into them, wiping out hundreds in each hit. And then Guns' flames hit the bots, and the few Rebles that frove the army of Sockpuppets, destroying most of them-

And then Toby himself appeared, and it was as if time stopped.

Guns stood slowly.

And Toby smiled.

There was the ever present flash of light that always seems to end my chapters (P) and then a wave of destruction wiped everything out for miles around the base.

And then Guns rose out of the ruins.

Toby was on his knees.

"But... how? It's not possible. Not even a Lietenant could have withstood this. Not even a Brass."

Guns cocked his pistol and pointed it at Toby's head.

"Do I look like a Brass to you?"

Toby silently shook his head, and Guns sighed.

"I'm not on the TSPTF. I'm Guns."

And there was a bang, and all fell still.

Guns walked out of the building and was surprised to see two cars swiftly leaving the building.

He raised his rifle and squarely hit the gas tank, causing it to spectacularly explode.

He aimed at the other... and paused. Whoever was in there couldn't be important, he thought. And better to let the news spread. Guns was back and badass.

But he was wrong about one thing.

It was not some minor reble escaping.

It was Daxus.

Chapter Nine
written by Tob

he fell to the floor, in shock of what just happened

He, after surviving Zagreb, Belegrade, Miami, Orlando,anf Jacksonville, had just been shot by someone who shouldnt even be there. He had been close to death multiple times, but never like this. his life began to flash before his eyes.

Zagreb

It was a few months ago, the TSTPF  in Bosnia and serbia had invaded, and zagreb was under seige. At hat point, Tob was nothing but a miitia, in a rebel state for a cause he didnt know, or care about. but that would all change.

Why he was there, he didnt know. A business metting, he had heard about the TSTPF attrocitis in Slavonia. Now, he was unarmed, excpt for a knife, and hiding in a basement, scared. he could hear the ".png .png .png" of the duplicate guns, and then a banhammer dropped not too far near where he was hiding. This was his first taste of blood. 2 TSTPF sodiers carrying risioners came down. He took his switchblade and stabbed it into the first guys neck and held him like a sheid, firing at the second.when both were dead, he had taken there ammo and got into a friends ca, firing at who came near, even if they were friendly. He couldnt trust anyone. at one point the car had run out of gas, nowhere near a functioning gas station. They were so afraid, that when a man walked near Tob and his friendstabbed him 20 times. TOB beganto feel dizzy, he coughed up some blood.

Belegrade

He had joined a rebel militia. A place of interest was Belegrade. They had gone into the city, and burned as much of it down as possible. he didnt remember many encounters, but he got stabbed in the leg, he looked at his pants, he knows the scar is there, it always will be. He remembered meeting Daxus there, and he was taken to his regement in atlanta, in the USA.

Miami

This is where he rose in the ranks. He remembered saving the POWs in SUnshine stadium, awaiting execution by the tstpf. his regement was able to take them back, but had to fight there way to Ft. Lauderdale, with little air support. He was awarded medals that day. one he still carried in his pocket, he took it out

Then someone came running to him

"Help Him!" yelled the man

"No" TOB said.., burn everything

and he died

His word of death spread fast, but t started something more. he was a martyr now. His book was found and read aloud at Zagreb, Split, Belgrade, Talhassee. The remaining army traveled to Vancouver, swearing to kill guns if they all die doing it. The followers in the Balkans began a front with the TSTPF in Slovenia. But.. This was more. An army, a government was formed that would change the war forever.

And Dax rode off, a fire in his eye, and behind him lay TOB, who lay a god in the minds of millions of souls. And as Dax reached Vancouver with Ninja, he thought, if not for his friends he witnessed die, for his bitter revenge for atrocities in America.. He knew this was war, and he wouldn't lose easily

Ninja went to Rome to guard MOckt

Chapter Ten
Made by Local 

Local moves into MOckt's Safe House, and has a few close encounters

Local walked slowly into the Safe House, Sarcasm held out. A clump of anons burst from cover. A swift succession of Bullets dropped them all. Local reached the Main Hall. The staircase was to the back. Suddenly, a Shape flitted in front of him. One of his Mafia Goons collapsed. He sent the rest out. 3 more fell before reaching the door. Then the shape stopped. Standing in front of him, was Ninja. "I thought you were neutral" Local exclaimed. The Ninja simply shook his head. Local blinked, and the Ninja was a foot closer. Local backed away. He felt the door against his back. Ninja stopped, pulled out a Ninja sword, and showed off some skills. Local acted impressed, then blew Ninja's head off with his pistol. As Local stepped forwards, he heard a voice he well knew. "FREEZE! Or I will shoot you where you stand." Local's face was split by a smile. He turned, and regarded Guns. "I could tell you the same." Guns turned, to see a group of Mafia Men standing behind him with Tommy Guns. Guns laughed, and the tension left the room. Local inquired lightly "So... You here alone? Or did you being the Rainbows?" Guns indicated the former, and the two free lance TSPTF soldiers began walking up the stairs. They had a long fight ahead.

Chapter Eleven
Written By Guns 

''Local and Guns are approaching a main Reble headquarters, where Dax is hiding along with a large army of bot-beasts and sockpuppets. They have no TSPTF backup- nothing but their weapons, Sarcasm and Flamer.''

Local led the way up the states, quickly dropping two anons, while Guns took out a bot-beast behind them.

"Nice action on that rifle," Local noted.

Guns grinned and flipped a switch. The bot-beast was engulfed in flame and killed.

"You haven't the faintest idea how cool this baby is."

They quickly covered the stairs, silently and swiftly killing guards as they appeared. When they reached the top floor, Guns hunkered down.

"Ok, so way I see it, this entire level is just a giant kill box. We go down this corridor, we both die."

Local nodded. "Fair enough. So how do we do it?"

Guns grinned. "We don't. Cover me."

Having said so he jumped out the window.

Local nodded. "Ok."

Then he raised Sarcasm and fired at the guards on the floor, attracting their attention, and unfortunately their fire.

"SIT! WEE AHS TSPF MEBERS HEAR!" One of the guards screamed.

Local groaned. 'St00pid was the only word to describe it. He turned around, and fired twice at a bot-beast.

Suddenly, a Reble appeared in the doorway with a machine gun and fired, cutting down his own side- and Local's cover.

"Shit!" Local screamed, as a bullet smashed into his arm, causing him to drop Sarcasm. Luckily, the Reble ran out of ammunition before he hit Local, but now Local was helpless...

Three of the guards caustiously approached Local, while the Reble reloaded.

And then Guns burst through the window and covered the hall with flame.

He smiled as the guards collapsed, then turned to Local, helping him up.

"Sorry I'm late," he chuckled, then quickly moved towards the last door on the corridor.

"Prick," Local murmured.

Guns only smiled.

They burst through the door, killing the two bot beasts there and shooting the figure jumping out the window.

"You think that was Dax?" Guns asked.

"Go jump out the window and find out," Local replied.

Guns laughed, then leaned out the window.

"Shit, that's a long way down. But it looks like Dax."

"Do we make sure he's dead?"

Guns shook is head. "We shot him and then he fell 40 floors down. He's not alive."

That was the second time Guns made a mistake about Dax.

There would not be a third.

'''I was in Rome. Can people please read my Chapters before moving me to randomother places? '''

'''Instantaneous travel bitch. Get with the 21st Century xDD'''

Chapter Twelve
Written By Scraw 

​​ Chapter Thirteen
Written by  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

Two months ago

Strutting through the airport with a long, black windcoat, Crimson carried a black backpack on his shoulder. His plane to Rome wasn't supposed to leave for another few hours. The early morning sky stared at him through the window. The last few months had been hell on him. He'd spent the last few weeks in London, searching for several high-ranking rebels. The assassin walked to a breakfast shop in the airport. He ordered his usual; bagel and coffee. After ordering his breakfast, he sat at a table overlooking the runway. He scratched his beard as he lost himself in thought.

A thought occurred to him. He was losing focus. In these trying times, he had to be vigilant. He had to be aware of his surroundings. If he let his guard down, even for a moment, it could be the end of him. He looked behind him. Nothing there. Taking a look at his watch, he noticed the time. An incredible amount of time had passed. How long had he spaced out? It was almost time for his plane to take off! He stood up and rushed to the gate. Luckily, he had arrived on the plane in time, baggage and all.

Crimson took notice of who was on the plane before sitting down. He made sure to sit on the aisle seat. It was high risk, but he was able to easily get out. Luckily, the plane wasn't too occupied. Crimson had the row to himself. He sat and kept an ear on the plane. The captain read the safety procedure before the plane took off, climbing into the atmosphere. Once the stewardess wheeled the cart to him, he ordered a scotch. When she brought it over, he happily sipped the beverage. It had been forever since he'd had a scotch.

Halfway through the flight and three scotches later. It wasn't long after that someone stood up. Crimson listened as the man walked near him. The hairs on his neck stiffened as he heard a gun cock. It was silenced. So this was how they planned to kill him. "How did you know?" he asked. The unnamed man said, "I never forget a face." Crimson chuckled. "I'll bet you went through a lot of planning. But there's something you didn't plan on." The gunman breathed. "And what is that?"

Crimson quickly leapt out of his chair. The bullet impacted the chair in front of him as he turned to punch the man, drink still in hand. The man fell to the ground as Crimson took a sip of scotch. "I'm highly intoxicated." Crimson began to run down the aisle, backpack over his shoulder, drink in the other. As he moved the curtains aside to enter the first-class portion, every passenger in first class turned and aimed their weapons at him. "Oh," Crimson said. "Hello," he chuckled, raising his glass. He took cover as a hail of bullets raced towards him. He opened the emergency door, fumbling with the lock.

The door opened and air began to rush out. Crimson rolled his eyes, took a sip of scotch, and jumped out. He plummeted to the ground, fumbling with a cord on his backpack. Pulling it, a parachute was deployed. The sudden change of velocity almost made him drop his drink. Crimson took a sip as he fell at a controlled rate into southern France.

Chapter Fourteen
<p style="text-align:center;">by Cour

He did find a way around Nashville.

The same would not be true of Indianapolis. Or Indianaplz, as the Rebles called it. Just his luck they would choose it as a forward command center.

He didn't know any of the anons or sockpuppets he saw as he slowly rode through town, keeping his head down. He didn't know what leader controled the city, but chances were that he would know them. His plan was to drive straight through the city while drawing as little attention to himself as possible. He made it as far as the Convention Center before he was seen.

Someone called out his name. He didn't see who. It didn't matter who. He knew there was no getting away. So, he made the most logical decision - 'If I go down, I'm bringing as many as I can with me.'

He gunned the engine, and the car thundered down the street. At one of the main intersections, he saw a large fence being erected around the streets leading to the Soldiers and Sailors Monument, leaving the plaza inside free of traffic.This must be the headquarters he thought. The most useful and dangerous people will be here.

At least it had been free of traffic.

The car's front end reduced the chain link fence to twisted barbs of scrap metal. Cour rolled down the window and began throwing all of his supplies out of the windows, towards the surrounding buildings. He had to time it just right. The time charge on the grenades were set to go off in three minutes - they were thrown through the glass facades of the buildings. The flares were thrown at the surrounding vehicles - either dusting the window and kindling the inside or smoldering underneath, licking at the gas tanks.

He hit as many targets as possible. By this time, the Rebles has begun to return fire. Cour knew his chances, but he had to try. He lit his last flare inside his own car, aimed it at the monument itself, and floored it.

Cour was positive that hitting the stone thing face-first would have been less painful than the explosion of the airbag. He didn't remember who, or where, or what he even was. Then, slowly, he tried to open his door. He screamed in frustration when he saw the crumpled metal that now trapped him. He turned, disintigrated the back windshield with his pistol, and slowly climed out the back window.

The Rebles had shifted to fighting the fires that now raged, threatening to consume the surrounding buildings. Cour decided to make a break for it.

He hobbled half way across the street, towards the west exit, before he was dropped by a shot to his calf.

Then, the timers on the time charges went off.

After fighting the fires that consumed the surrounding blocks for three days, the Rebles finally picked through the wreckage. Most of theirs were dead. Leaders and commanders and the like. They found several who weren't.

He woke up when they were carrying him towards the north exit by his hands and feet.

"STop!" a voice commanded. Cour was thrust to his feet, then kicked in the back of the knees, which still stung from his wound.

On his knees, he could only see bright light and a shadowy face.

"Who send u?" the figure demanded.

Cour looked up through his hazy vision and spat saliva and blood at the stranger.

"Viva la Wikia!" he rasped. He saw red, then white, then black.

Chapter Fifteen
By Dax 

Check. He thought after ensuring that the cyanide pill rested in his trench coat pocket.

Two Walther PPKs? Check.

Energy condenser? Check.

Dax carried on, reassured that all he needed was in his possession. He heard the sounds of screams and gunshots from several stories above, which encouraged him to continue staggering forward into what he knew was the generator room. Daxus barley read the sign "Werning, elktrcty ahed."

He staggered into the room, and as a small celebration of having making it this far he put a tab of acid under his young, which should kick in in about two hours, by that time he should be in his backyard with his book in his own dimension.

In the room were two large generators perpetually powering the compound. He took the small red rod from his pocket and pressed one of the three buttons before gently placing it in between the two generators. He n walked back to the aid  of the room with the door and fell to his knees facing the energy condenser as a small blue ball appeared in the air above it connected to the generators only by many arcing rods of lightening. It is at this point as that he heard the screams of Guns whom, unknown to Dax, had just taken a bullet in his left shoulder. Unfortunately for Dax the screams also came from a single story above him.

Dax then began a prayer that he knew would speed up the portal, and so he began a unholy and eldritch chant of which contained the following sounds:  La! La! Cthulu fhatgn! Yog-Sothoth! Ph-nglui mglw' nafh Cthulu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhgatn!

Many more sound  followed, but none of them are possible to describe with simple human words. During the time of his chant Dax knew the souls, fears, and pains of everyone in the building, and he also knew that Guns was about to bust down the door and blast a flame thrower straight at Dax. This fortunately gab  him the ability to fall flat and escape the flames, which were then sucked into the portal that feasted upon the fire's energy.

Dax then twisted round and pulled out his dual Walthers, and fire off two shots from each, two hit Guns standing in front, one skimmed Local who was behind and the fourth missed. Guns dropped floor in injury, meanwhile Dax crawled.toward the newly completed portal to the Map Games  Wiki, leaving the partly injured Local to chose between caring for Guns and going after Dax whom was escaping to a realm where the two were allies.

I'm upstairs. Guns may have gone downstairs, I didn't. I went to shoot MOckt, and then left the Universe.

Chapter Sixteen
By Guns

Guns has left the building, and is now aimlessly wandering the streets, looking for bot-beasts and trolls.

War.

Blood.

Pain.

Guns shot a bot-beast, burnt a troll, then sat down, leaning against the wall, and wrote a haiku.

War is everywhere

Blood and terror rule this world

But some fight on still.

He shot a sockpuppet without even getting up, then wrote another.

Haikus portray this

world as if it doesn't make sense

Refrigerator.

And he laughed, and stood up, and painted his words on the wall.

The writing on the wall.

Absolute certainty.

Guns looked up, and left.

The sun slowly set in the sky that was red from the burning of the world, a sight that was beautiful beyond all measure and yet as painful as it was beautiful.

And Guns cried for the world.

Chapter Seventeen
By  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

Two Months Ago

Crim woke up in a vineyard in Southern France. His parachute was draped on top of his body. He sat up and removed the parachute, coming eye to eye with a commoner. "W-where am I?" he asked. The commoner looked confused. Crimson remembered his destination. Italy. "Dove sono?" he asked. The man still looked confused. "Où suis-je?" he asked in French. "Vous êtes à Les Contamines-Montjoie," the man replied. Les Contamines-Montjoie was a community in Southern France. Crimson looked around. A snowy mountain dominated the landscape. He had a long way to go.

Groaning, Crimson stood up, still clutching the drink. He said, "C-comment puis-je obtenir à Rome?" The man began to respond before Crimson interrupted him in English. "Never mind. I have a phone," he said, searching for the nearest railway. He had plenty of Euros on him, but money wasn't an issue. His things were on that plane. He began to walk to the nearest rail station in his tattered black suit.

The walk lasted for days. He stayed at several hotels as he backpacked into Italy. Before long, he was at Turin, ready to board a train that would take him to Rome. Finding a train wasn't too difficult, nor was it to find the Euros to cough up. The TSPTF was incredibly well-funded. As Crimson boarded the train, he collapsed into a seat. He was incredibly tired and sore, though he planned on keeping an eye on what was going on in the train.

No such luck.

Before the Revolution... 

''The man ran. Faster than he had ever run before. Had everything gone to plan, he wouldn't have to run. He wouldn't have to die tired. He could have been sitting on a park bench when it happened. Or having dinner. Or after putting his kid to bed. But someone tipped him off. Someone saw an assassin coming for him and he ran. Owen knew what he was running from. And John Smith (it wasn't even his real name, only a title assuming anonymity) didn't even have to chase him. He only needed to wait for the fool.''

''John waited at the gazebo in Central Park. Men in suits walked by as Owen's private army was going to meet the fool chasing the other fool. The young man sat at the bench, waiting for Owen to come by. It was eerily peaceful. The sound of birds chirping betrayed the fact that there were people dying in the park right now. Owen was a hot target; assassins from around the world were trying to kill him. As John sat back, he heard footsteps. A man in a suit was racing towards him. "Hey!" the man called out.''

''"You can't be here! Come with me right now!" he continued. John looked at him, not knowing what to do. The man entered the gazebo and reached for the gun in his jacket. John drew his own gun and fired, hitting the man in the head. Bits of skull and brain matter scattered across the gazebo as the bullet entered the man's head. He fell directly on John, bleeding on the assassin. An immense amount of blood gushed on the assassin as John moved the body aside. There went his cover.''

''And then came Owen. He was running for his life from the assassin that had been chasing him. He ran in front of the gazebo and activated a trip wire, forcing a flashbang to activate. John stood up, stunned that it worked. Owen had fallen to the ground. The assassin walked up to Owen and put a bullet in the man's chest. As he stood over his quarry, the reckless assassin approached him, slowing down when he saw the scene. A newbie assassin standing over Owen, covered in gore. "What the hell?! Who are you?" the assassin said, distraught over the loss of his quarry.''

''John ran like hell. The assassin opened fire as Cam ducked and headed for the hills. "I WILL FIND YOU! I WILL TELL THE WORLD TO LOOK FOR THE CRIMSON ASSASSIN!" screamed the reckless assassin.''

Crim woke up. He constantly dreamed about that first hit. He'd made a name for himself, standing in front of the then-most notorious assassin covered in the alleged blood of his quarry. Crimson stretched and looked out the window. The train was just entering Rome. Crimson looked around. It didn't seem like he was in danger or had been in danger. He had learned to be cautious, maybe even paranoid. His senses never betrayed him.

The ride to the station lasted only a few more minutes. Crimson waited for everyone else to leave before he got up to leave. He exited the train before noticing men in suits going train-to-train, looking for someone. Most likely him. Crimson avoided them, walking to the nearest parking structure. Men in suits were everywhere, looking for him. He figured Rome would be like this, but it was still surprising. A van arrived, forcing Crimson to hide behind a parking structure. As men poured out, Crimson picked up a loose piece of concrete and threw it at a distant car, making the alarm sound. The men ran in the alarm's direction as Crimson moved to the now-empty van. Suddenly, a man in a motorcycle moved between him and the van. "Hold on," the man said. "I'm going to need to see some identification." "Why aren't you speaking Italian?" Crimson asked. "I need your identification. Now."

Crimson rolled his eyes before knocking the man off the bike. He dragged the unconscious man into the van and got on the bike. A cargo ship would be arriving any day now. BR-137. Crates on cargo ships were rarely checked. His plan was to arrive before his cargo arrived. Now, it looks like he'd be arriving just before the shipment pulled into Rome. Crimson took off in the motorcycle, speeding to his destination.

'''HAHA! BROADCHURCH! ~ S'''

Bearded Tennant ftw  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

'''ikr. He looks so much cooler. 04:23, November 26, 2013 (UTC)'''

Chapter Eighteen
by Scraw

Toby's chapter was not legit.

Scraw checked his dashboard and prepared to take off from the airfield. He was leaving Britain behind. What little population was left in it was too weak to support either side. Now, the time came to return to America. He was going to drop bombs over reble movements along the Appalachians. The TSPTF had made a come back in New York via Long Island and retaken the Tri-State Area.

As he began to move forwards, he suddenly jerked to a stop. He checked his mirror and saw....a reble emptying his fuel intake! He jumped out, firearms in hand, and turned to shoot his enemy. The masked figure cried out "THATS BIASD YOU ARE HORRIBLE MOD" as he began to erase and vandalize the plane. Scraw cocked his gun, which drew the attention of his enemy. He turned and took off his mask, revealing none other than....Ratc! Ratc then proceeded to reveal his phaser.

"How?" he asked. "YOU CAN NEVER KILLL ME I WILLL ALWAYS BE B ACK THE TSPTF WILL NEVER WIN!" Scraw had head many such statements in his day. "Just drop the phaser and I'll drop you into the Atlantic. "NEVARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!" he cried in a feat of bravado. "You leave me no choice." Scraw sheathed his guns and took out his laser screwdriver. He pointed at the phaser as he reversed the polarity. "Ratc, drop it." he peacefully requested. He was repelled, and Ratc fired. He fired three more times until he realized that it wasn't working. "HOW COULD THIS HAPPOEN?" he shrieked.

Scraw elected not to respond and refueled as he took off. He tied Ratc up and left him in the back of the plane, and realized that he had a bargaining chip now. He would go Toronto. He would recover the greatest POW the TSPTF ever lost. Eo.

Chapter Nineteen
Written by Imperium Guy

''The sun shines on the calm ocean water as the sky clears of any lingering clouds from the previous night of rain. Gandhi stands on the deck of his flagship, the UAS Grammar. Behind him can be seen a multitude of ships comprising of the huge armada to liberate the United States and the rest of North America from the threat of the rebles. In the hands of Gandhi is something Imp left for him before he disappeared once more. It contained the rudimentary schematics of a "Quantum Ban" - a highly experimental piece of technology which could potentially win the war in one stroke for the TSPTF. Never mind Hiroshima, this was the true Weapon of Mass Destruction.''

Gandhi looked at the horizon ahead. The idea of the Quantum Ban was truely exotic. How had Imp even managed to get hold of technology so valuable, and where were his fellow TSPTF friends Crim and Yank? So many questions lingered on Gandhi's mind, that is was beginning to make him feel woosy. He returned to his quarters and safely put away the top secret plans. Heading to the bridge, Gandhi knew that what he was going to embark on went completely against what he had fought for against the British. His own people had greeted him with open arms and wild celebrations as he entered the nation for the first time since he had woken up once more. He had wished to stay longer, although he had helped to root out the st00pid running the nation and had allowed for intelligent folk to take the realms of the nation. He knew his mission was more important to the Planet Wikia than anything he had done to help gain Indian independence.

Gandhi arrived on the bridge and was at once greeted with salutes. "What is the status of st00pid movements?" he inquired by asking Admiral Dean. Dean had found another thing he felt good to do - command naval ships. He had proved his worth in taking a small taskforce out to the Pacific and wiping out 3 reble armadas heading to conquer Micronesia. "Seriously, what do they have against a bunch of small islands who couldn't harm a fly?" Dean had wondered as he tore apart their ships using the upgraded Ban Missles.

"Have a listen yourself, sir", Dean replied.

"WASTondon is been atked by or trupz, we shold see suZess sun... MidWET is clard of TPFTS truups, no stungholds pheasant... Indigo TSp meberres has wrequed l00ts of stuff und som sid dat GUnS mit still bE aLIve... Them shippes in da Peeceefeec haz all dissoppeared but we gotz no clu why yet" were all intercepted by the radio systems listening into reble communications. So the rebles still had not figured out how their ships had suddenly been lost. But what gave Gandhi hope was the fact that Guns might still be out there, somewhere. At least the st00pid had no idea that the United Allied Forces of the Eastern TSPTF were coming to help out their brethern in the west.

"Sounds promising".

Land was soon sighted and the UAFE-TSPTF fleet knew this was their time. Gandhi headed out to the deck to witness the battle he hoped would turn the war in North America around. "Let's be serious", he thought, "they are really getting their asses kicked by st00pid who don't even know how to spell". How had MOckt not died when Yellowstone had exploded because he made it exploded by willing it (now he was no Chuck Norris, he was a whole fucking league better)? It didn't matter anyway, not yet.

"Red alert, all hands to battlestations", the voice over the intercom blared. Missle silos were readied, guns were checked and aircraft prepped. They were steaming in toward New York and it would all begin on his order. This was going to be interesting. "All hands, you are go for launch". Immidiately, the fleet came alive. Ban missles began to be fired in their thousands and the aircraft took off, fully loaded with Ban bombs. The rebles could be seen arriving in haste as they began to realise what was happening. How had they already not realised? It was then he had to remember they were truely st00pid and it should not have been a surprise to him at all. He could see reble aircraft coming to engage with the UAFETSPTF aircraft. Their spam guns, the best on the planet, engaged the ban rockets of his aircraft. It was a bloody mess of a battle but the rebles were unprepared for the new technologies implemented by the TSPTF. The aircraft and ships had all been coated with the spell-checker paint, which helped them take much more of a beating and allowed for the destruction of the hostile aircraft. The ships' main cannons began to fire rapidly, Dean was making sure that he would make the rebles pay for all the destruction theu had caused. He had heard about the damage in the beautiful southern US, and had gone into a rage. He was going to make them pay.

Reble ships engaged the UAFE-TSPTF armada and intense battles endured. Ships were lost to both sides but it was clear the st00pid were under-prepared. "Serves them right", Gandhi thought. He suddenly felt like Sun Tzu, who was commanding the invasion force - his art of war would surely make battles easier. An opponent which could not think straight could never face up to the superiour tactics. The battle continued to rage on and a path to the coast was cleared. Ships loaded with TSPTF footsoldiers landed on the shores and quickly began to push their way inward. The rebles stood no chance.

It was beautiful.

Destroyed and upturned trucks and weapons littered the city as the footsoldiers entered to clear the rebles and secure the broken continent. Rebles could be heard shouting. "SCReW U UFHRSTPT, ScrEW Yu. RERUN, RUTREAT! Gut OUTTA HRE!!" But things would not be so easy. Spam mines were littered everythere and this lead to the explosion of numerous pages with messages making no sense such as "ICHEEz freE". It also lead to the loss of hundreds of troops. Then disaster struck. The rebles ambushed the oncoming troops, their attack was too much for the TSPTF to be able to fight back against. The main army was still clearing out the last of the sockpuppets and the division would have to fight alone. Gandhi was leading the troops himself, wanting to see the damage, when he and his soldiers were attacked. They stood no chance, but Gandhi saw the leader of the attack - Rebelsoldier. This was going to be a one on one battle.

Gandhi attacked using the Ban force, but Rebelsoldier retaliated with every sockpuppet he had. Confederatesoldier, Southern Dude - all of them were there fighting alongside their master. Gandhi was under great strain, and he was beginning to weaken against the combine onslaught. He knew he was not going to make it alive, his time was coming to an end. He decided he would not let this st00pid of a man win. Ban missles and shells all struck Rebelsoldier and his sockpuppets hard and with surprise. They were not expecting this. One by one, Gandhi started to pick them off and combined with the incoming missles, Reb's defences began to falter. Scores of his beloved sockpuppets began to die, and the reble army coming to liberate his position were all struck down. Reb took the chance to fire at an unprotected Gandhi and spamknife after spamknife struck Gandhi, but it seemed to have no effect on him - mentally. Physically, Gandhi was dying as his body began to weaken but his mind continued the fight. Destruction was everywhere and all of the sockpuppets and the reble army was killed by Gandhi's diehard attack.

Rebelsoldier and Gandhi were the only ones left. "I haV U now, Gandhi, prepare to be served, violence!!" Reb said with pride. Gandhi could sense that he was close to death, and began to give up control of himself. But he would be damned if he let Rebelsoldier live to fight another day. "Ahisma... Reb... its... NON-VIOLENCE!!!". Suddenly, a bright light emittied from Gandhi - killing Reb and other rebles in a 50 mile radius. Gandhi had lost almost all control - but Imp appeared.

"NOOO!!! This cannot be happening! Gandhi, please try to hold on - we'll get you to the nearest Admin tools point, you will be fine" Imp wailed. "I must go Imp". Gandhi replied with a sad sort of certainty. "My time here is almost at an end Imp. There is no denying that". Imp spoke weakly, "but, you'll be fine, please?!".

"I must go Imp, but I thank you for giving me the chance to once more return to this planet. Before I leave, you have to tell Crim on my behalf that I have a bottle of 1947 scotch in McLarens Bar. He'll appreciate it, from what I can tell in your description of him" Gandhi said.

"I will".

"And one... last thing. In my time here, I found out... where MOckt is... holed up. Go to Rome, and you shall find the source... of your problem. I am giving back all admin powers... to you, Imp - use them... for the good of this Wikia. Goodbye Imp".

A bright light left from the now-dead body of Gandhi and ascended into a higher plane of wikiadom - presumably community central.

Chapter Twenty
Written by Local

Local winced. He glared at his wounded hand, and the wound removed itself. He stood up, picked up Sarcasm, and began to walk towards to the main room of MOckt's home. As he moved forwards, he collapsed to the ground, clenching his chest. He pulled himself up, and shook off Guns' questioning glance. He continued to wince as he limped towards the room. Guns asked "What's wrong?". Local smiled grimly and replied "Karma's a bitch. I won't be able to stay long. I will have to go from this world". Guns looked alarmed "You're dying?". Local laughed "Ha. I'm not dying! I can't be killed by that. I'll just be... Away for a while."

Local opened the door of MOckt's Bedroom, and fired sarcasm time after time. Each shot caused an anon guard to shatter and implode. Sadly, the Reble generals were elsewhere, fighting the final battles in the other continents. MOckt froze. Local pushed Sarcasm against the back of MOckt's head. "Prepare to die arse-" and Local's tone changed and he said "Crap! IRL crisis", and vanished in a poof of smoke, with a last cry of "BBL". MOckt had escaped certain death.

Chapter Twenty One
By Dax 

He  sat and read. Dante had just reached the part containing the Those Who Died by Violence Before Repentance. His acid had kicked in a while ago, having peaked about a hour past, meaning he would be on a psychological crash course for just a few more hours. What part of ​The Purgatorio had he just reached? He had already forgot.

Sights and amnesia.

His mind wandered to the AltHist Wiki that could be reached by a inter-dimensional Link, which could be easily manufactured in his circumstances. The war, the Rebles, the TSPTFPTS, the broken. Tools.

Tools.

Tools.

He ​needed ​​​tools.

​Not normal tools. No. People tools.

Lots of tools. He didn't know where to start in finding tools. They are crushed under their own feet.

He would need to steal them. He could do it for They are fools.

Return with an army. Deceit.

He would need to forsake the losing rebels and join or side with the TPSTF.

One force. Fire. Heat

He would cook them lime a mad chef.

He got up, placing his book face down so to not loose his page, and chugged what water remained in his cup. He rushed to his home, followed by a brisk walk to his laboratory. He would need tools. He checked and made sure that he had his dual Walthers and the Pill that Bites Once. Grabbed another energy condenser, a plasma rifle (basically the one from Fallout), some morphine, a silencer, and a single combat knife.

He went to the quad Tesla coils in his lab all spaced equally from one another, and placed the energy condenser between them before turning it on.

Memory. Amnesia.

He stood watching the portal that seemed to appear in front of him what seemed to him to be instantaneous, and with him now was a backpack that contained a vial of virgin blood, the Necronomicon, a few candles, and a vial full of a thick blue liquid.

Those Who Died by Violence Before Repentance.

Chapter Twenty Two
By Imperium Guy

''In a gritty underground lab, Imp can be seen toiling away in his work. The lighting is shabby, the lab messy. Random machine pieces can be seen lying about here and there.''

Imp was past the point of tired. If the Quantum Ban was going to be able to work, he would need to perfect the Quantum Banisher - the device which would be used to enact the Quantum Ban. Crim's work had been a good starting point, but it was not much more. The rest of the work had to be researched and worked on by Imp himself and it was heavily taxing. Even though he was close, so many parts just didn't make sense - and then there was the question that could the Banisher be controlled to only Ban the rebles or would it leave everyone outside the Timestream?

But there was another reason Imp was working away so hard. Although he would never admit it, he was excessively working to distract himself from the fact that Gandhi was now dead. Imp blamed himself for not being there, not helping Gandhi when he needed his help the most. It filled him with great grief and fueled his desire to finish the project, no matter what the cost. But there also was the small problem of locating Crim and discussing the project with him, because it was, in the end, his brainchild. It just seemed to him he was not making... much... pro....gress......

"Huh?!" muttered Imp as he woke droozily. He had fell asleep at his workstation. As he got back up, he suddenly had it, the answer to it all. "EUREKA!!!!!!" he screamed in joy. He had found the final piece of the puzzle. He ran to the other side of the lab, and inputted the complex equation into his computer. It worked! It looked like Archiemedus' legend had some basis after all. Who knew it was as simple as just waking up to get the answer to a major problem? He could now successfully construct his first prototype.

''Imp works away constructing the Quantum Banisher. It takes him time, but he finally completes the device. He runs many simulations on the device to see its performance and it looks promising. He then refocuses his efforts in tracking down Crim.''

It had been hard work, but Imp believed he had the location of Crim. According to the lastest in the Intelligence network of the TSPTF, Crim was said to be somewhere in Rome. Co-incidentially (or perhaps not?), MOckt was rumoured to be in the same city - and that automatically made the city a prime reble controlled region. Taking all his work on a pad, Imp set off to find him - knowing it was going to be a long journey.

He knew he should be heading back to America or the east to continue the fight in a major way but right now, he needed to be away from the fighting and more into the stealthy stuff, even though it wasn't his type of thing. Fighting rebles in a badass way and and leading troops from the front, sure, but not incognito work. He rushed to board a supersonic jet which would get him to Rome quickly. As for the problem of landing it, that was not going to be so hard. He planned to land on one of the TSPTF carriers in the region which were there in the dark. Pushing his jet to Mach 3.8, he wondered if the rebles had any indication he was coming for them?

The busy streets of Rome was hardly a good place to be in. He had already faced of doznes of rebles in shady backstreets, although they had not been a major challenge for him. Through the movement of his hand and the white beam of light coming out of it, he could ban them in one go. It was just one of the major boosts Gandhi had given to him before he had, well, died? Or was it ascended? Imp was still not sure in the details, but deep down in his heart, he would continue to blame himself for the apparent death of Gandhi. Imp continued to move at a rapid pace, trying to stay in the shadows and attract as little attention as he could upon himself. His senses told him he was close, very close.

He could see a bar across the street. But something was happening to the bar; it seemed to be distorting in an odd fashion, as if... "light was itself being bend!" Imp spoke in horror. Only one thing could do such a thing, in theory that was. If MOckt had an uncountable number of sockpuppets in the bar, then it was not going to be pretty. Imp rushed into the bar.

He opened the door, and saw a singularity right in the middle of the bar. Looking around rapidly, he found Crim. "Crim! Get out of there!" he screamed...

Chapter Twenty Three
By  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

1.5 Months Ago

Weaving the motorcycle through traffic, Crimson finally reached the dock with the ship. Mockt's men were hot on his tail, firing at Crimson. As Crimson accelerated to reach the ship, gates began to close. Crimson was luckily much more maneuverable. To get past the first set of closing gates, Crim drove to the left, narrowly avoiding the gates. It seemed as if he had lost his pursuers, though people were waiting for him at the ship. Crimson fumbled in his pockets before finding a knife as he drove.

When his fingers wrapped around a hilt, he aimed the bike for the men waiting for him near the ship. He punctured the gas tank and leaped off the motorcycle. The errant bike drove near the ambushers as they opened fire on Crim. The bike left a trail of gasoline where it went. Crimson took cover behind a crate before turning to open fire during a break in fire. He shot the gas trail, igniting it and throwing off his pursuers. Crim ran for the other gangway to the ship.

Crimson knew which crate it was. Serial number #1138. It took a while of stealthily searching before finding the crate. He had to climb a few crates to get to it, though he was able to reach it as the guards frantically searched for him. Crimson reached the red crate and fumbled for his cell phone. He found it and called a number, standing back from the crate. When the number was reached, plastic explosives inside the crate detonated, allowing Crimson to enter the crate. It was filled with boxes and barrels of various things. It took a minute of searching before finally finding the box that contained his belongings.

Sniper rifles, pistols, ammunition, grappling hooks, knives, really anything an assassin would need on the job. It even came with an on-the-go scotch kit. He'd need it. It all fit in some briefcases. If he'd had his way on the plane, he could have had help with long-term anonymizers and other high-tech gadgets. The was, luckily, a short-term anonymizer. I wouldn't change his face for very long, but it was just enough to get out of a situation. Crimson pressed a button, activating a hologram. From the outside, he looked like one of the guards.

The explosion had resulted in all sorts of alarms going off. As Crimson climbed down, he pretended to search for himself, staying in character, before leaving the ship. Rounding a corner upon leaving the docks, his anonymizer short-circuited. Nevertheless, he was off the radar. Over the next month, he used the Euros he had brought to get himself out of sticky situations. He stayed in an apartment in Rome, pretending to be a tourist on vacation. He gathered information on Mockt, waiting for the day where he could take Mockt out. He hoped to hell Imp wouldn't have to use the device Yank and Crimson had procured earlier. If the Quantum Banisher was activated, everyone would be banned from the universe, trapped outside of time.

And then it happened. Mockt would be traveling to a bar in Rome to meet with a TSPTF member for a peace treaty. A peace treaty. Crim knew it was a set up for the TSPTF arbitrator. He decided it would be best to cover the guy if and when things went awry.

Now

It was late afternoon in Rome. A black Lamborghini rolled through the streets. Crimson waited with a sniper rifle on a roof overlooking the inconspicuous bar. He watched as Mockt stepped out of the car and entered the bar. His finger itched. How great it would be to shoot this bastard. Nevertheless, Crim kept an eye on the bar and what was going on. Before he knew it, almost two hours passed. It was almost night. Was the TSPTF guy a no-show?

As he watched the bar, he noticed someone walk into the back alleyway of the bar. Taking a look through his rifle, Crim saw who it was. Mockt. Something was wrong. The meeting should have happened by now. Upon closer inspection, Mockt was holding a gun. Crimson knew he had to take a shot. Right before he fired, he noticed someone else coming out of the front door. Crim dared to see who it was. The man who walked out of the bar just now was Mockt. There were two Mockts. It was a setup. Maybe the guy in front was a decoy. One was a sockpuppet and one was real. Crimson patted his suitcase next to him. A lesser assassin would show off by blowing the guy's head off with a bang. Crim, on the other hand, knew when and how to celebrate.

Crim looked through his scope at the Mockt behind the bar. He breathed out, centered the scope on the man's head, and fired. His skull was shattered by the bullet as that Mockt fell to the ground, dead. Crim switched to the one in front of the bar. Real or fake, it had to die. Crimson searched for it before noticing that this Mockt wasn't there anymore.

An unseen arm choked Crim.

He woke up handcuffed to a chair. His face felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer. "You're up," a burred figure said. Crimson groaned and said, "Where did you take me?" "I think you know where that is," the figure said. Crim's eyes adjusted to the light. It was the bar where the meeting was supposed to take place. "We were waiting for someone to come to the meeting. U no, 4 the world's most notorious assasin, ur pretty careless," the figure said. Crim looked at the familiar figure. Mockt in the flesh. "You're... you're just another sockpuppet." A fist hit his jaw in response. Mockt said, "But that doesnt mean im not real." Upon him finishing that statement, a door to the bathroom opened. Another Mockt walked out. "I hope my sockpuppet dint cause 2 much harm," he said. Crim's gun and suitcase had been placed in front of him.

"Mockt..." Crim sighed. "In the flesh," he responded. Sockpuppets began to appear all around the bar. "Mockt, what are you doing? This many sockpuppets in one place will cause a localized time paradox," Crim tried to reason. No use. Mockt simply laughed and said, "I no. Its part of my master plan. Ur the Time Stream Protection Task Force. With a paradox on ur hands, u cant use ur powers to stop me. im invincible."

Crimson began to laugh. "There's no way you came up with that on your own. Who helped you?" Mockt began to get angry. "No, I seriously did it!" he insisted. Crimson continued. "Please. You're embarrassing yourself. Give someone credit," he said. Mockt slammed his hands on the table. "UR BULLYING ME! STOP!" he screamed. Things around the bar began to fly. The paradox was starting. "Mockt, get the sockpuppets out of here," Crimson said. His voice echoed.

A disembodied voice of Mockt's said, "I think you know where that is." Light began to bend as sound was distorted. Another disembodied voice said, "Crim! Get out of there!" It wasn't MOckt. The air itself began to shake before everything was calm. Everything at that exact moment was still. Time was collapsing in on itself at that moment. Time was moving at a crawl because of the singularity being created. A pitch-black hole was created in the middle of the room. Crim broke the now brittle handcuffs binding him to the chair. He reached for his suitcase and opened it up, revealing a case of scotch. Crim walked to the bar and poured it. The door opened and Imp walked in. "Crim! Get out of there!"

Crim smiled and said, "Gravity stretches time. I've got a few minutes." "Crim, are you insane?" Imp asked. Crim smiled and patted the bar next to him. "Have a drink," he said. Imp walked to the bar as Crim poured the man a drink. They drank as the bar crumbled in slow-motion. It was almost peaceful. Mockt's sockpuppets began to fall into the singularity. A knot formed in Crim's stomach. He had been sitting right in front of the singularity when it was created. He was already dead. "It was a trap, this meeting. I wasn't careful," Crim calmly said. Mockt was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had escaped or been whisked away by the time error. But there was no evidence of him being at the bar.

As Crim finished his scotch, he raised his glass at Imp. He said, "I don't want to go," before being violently sucked into the singularity. Imp couldn't even react by the time Crimson was expelled from time and space. "No!" The singularity wavered before closing. Time reverted to how it had been. It was a dark era. Mockt had escaped and Crim had been booted out of reality by Mockt's stupidity. Mockt would pay.

Mortauri Te Salutant
Shit hit the fan.

It broke the fan.

Shit tends, after all, to happen.

We who are about to die salute you.

The motto of the living.

The mantra of the dead.

Mortauri te Salutant.

Part Three -- The Return of the Legends
'''At this point please keep further chapters focused on the plot, building on previous people's chapters if necessary, as opposed to a series of back stories. The general timeline for Part Three is on the talk page.'''

Modus Pwnens
Written By Guns 

Modus Pwnens: (n)

Latin:

"The Mode of Pwnage"

''The method by which an enemy or opponent force is defeated in some sort of challenge, combat, or other such contest. ''

Roots:

'Pwn': To throughly defeat an opponent

ex: I totally pwned that idiot!

'Modus Ponens': A mathematical/logical term referring to the method of proving a point.

ex: Given "If P then Q" and "P", by Modus Ponens, "Q".

 

Chapter One
Written by Mscoree

It began long ago, in a land far the east. The like of which you will not find in the world today. A land rich in creativity and cooperation, which sat on the gates of the Alternate History Wiki. It was said to have been ruled by a mighty chieftain, known as Nik, the one admin to rule them all. Nik ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the life of his son, and grandson. The beautify of this great wiki was legendary. It's riches were numerous in its deep articles and timelines. Their craftsmanship was unrivaled, creating stories of all eras of time. Deeper and deeper they dug into the collective field of alternate history, and that was where they found it. 1983: Doomsday.

All payed homage to the great gem, even the kings of the Map Games Wiki, and other great kingdoms. The current kings treasured that mystical gem...but every man's love of gold eventually grows too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him. It was a sickness of the mind, and where sickness thrives, bad things will follow. The first they heard was like a noise of a hurricane, coming down from the north. The defenses of the wiki creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind. And thus the prosperous wiki was besieged by its greatest threat of all. They came upon them like a thunderous storm. The Army of the Trolls had come. The trolls easily destroyed the map games of the wiki. To them it was nothing...their eyes were set on another prize. For trolls convent gold, with a dark and fierce desire. Some say the wiki was lost that day to the waves of trolls that followed. A troll will guard its trolling for as long as it lives.

It is on that day that the great kings of the Map Games Wiki came to the site of the battle, but the other wikis would not risk their own kin against the wrath of the trolls. No help came to save the Alternate History Wiki that day, or any day since. Writers were forced to come and go, but always they remembered the deep caverns of the wiki, now corrupted by enemy armies. It is said that one day the people of the Alternate History Wiki would return, and take back their homeland, but as the years went on the hope of a freed wiki grew smaller still. A small brotherhood of the wiki's contributors swore since that day to combat the trolls, and one day fulfill the prophecy. They were the TSPTF.

"Overlord, this is Metal on the ground. We've secured objective alpha and are taking heavy fire from the north. "Roger that, Metal, this is Overlord. Ground assets approaching from the southwest half a click from your position, over."

MP withdrew himself from the radio to focus on the battle. Fresh from the Battle of New York it seemed the war was practically over. Who knew Rome was such a hell hole.

"All TSPTF operatives in the area, this is Metal requesting immediate fire support." Suddenly the radio crackled with life again.

"Attention all units, we have a downed commercial airliner coming down over our current position-," MP looked up and saw a giant burst of light in the sky above the city. He looked through the smoke-filled skies with heavy, unreal clarity. This war was unreal.

Chapter Two
Written by Mscoree

It was dawn over Italy, and a new day of bloodshed. Below them the people of the wiki were deeply entrenched. Rockets were fired, bullets flew. But all of that was below them now. No one spoke as they ascended miles over the war torn earth below. Not a sound was heard as the bombers unloaded on the city below. And then they were unloaded. The door flew open and they were immediately pulled to it. It was a bright blue canvas in which to jump into. And then without a sound all four of them jumped.

Bright vibrant colors around them. War below them. Heavens above them. And it was tranquil. The sun blinded them for a split second and they felt like they were floating. The target was just below them.

All four entered the back of the speeding commercial jet, their target, as it raced over the city of Rome.

"Remember the plan. Check the hallways." spoke Imp into the team's com. Viva immediately stuck to the first wall, checking over the corner. Two rebels. Two shots fired. Down. Blood. Move. Imp jumped forward, followed by FirstStooge who briskly sprinted out of the back cabin. Behind them Mscoree followed last. Behind the first corner now, and a single door laid in front of them. This is it.

Door is kicked in. Several rebels shout and spray into the doorway. Immediately the team observes the badly ravaged plane seats, the plain carpet, the bullet holes all around the plane. Imp fires several shots. Half a mag gone, ducks behind the first row of chairs as Viva follows and fires a few short bursts. Contact is made, one, then two, three rebels down in between the rows of torn seats. The lights go out.

Nearing the cabin, the team braces behind the door. Viva hops against the walls as Imp places his hand against the door.

"Watch for the target," then he kicks the door in and withdraws in a split second. As the door flies back FirstStooge ducks in and prepares to fire.

"Wait! Wait!" cries the pilot, waving his hands. He falls to his knees crying, begging, begging them to wait. He collapses to the floor. A second man stands over the target, NuclearVacuum, tied up as hostage. Imp stands in the doorway with his gun drawn.

"U fool. This plain is riged ta blew frome the gr0udn. The TSptQ will burn!"

"We're losing altitude," shouts Stooge.

Confident in his plan the anonymous rebel laughs and draws his gun on the pilot, killing him instantly. Without thinking Mscoree pushes past Imp, firing his shotgun repeatidly, into the rebel, into the plane, into the glass, into almost everything. He runs forward practically tackling NuclearVacuum, and falls out the broken window of the descending plane.

Falling again. Rapidly. The plane disappears above him. He is returning to war, carrying the target with him. The other team members are finally seen jumping out as well, like little black specs in the bright blue sky. NuclearVacuum desperately hugs Mscoree as the parachute deploys, and the team descends for the ground.

"Attention all units, we have a downed commercial airliner coming down over our current position-," Mscoree switched off his ear piece, and enjoyed the fall to the ground. And softly he thought, welcome to Rome.

Chapter Three
By Guns 

Guns is now looking for a zombie.

''One zombie in particular. The dead user, Razorfang.''

Once a friend of Ms' and a supporter of the Rebles.

Now, just a supporter of the Rebles.

Guns was looking for someone. A Reble. A smart one- and thus a dangerous one.

Guns tracked him down to a warehouse.

He thought, dryly, that Crim would have had fun here, then regretted the thought.

Crim was dead, now. Banished from time by Mockt.

Well, Mockt would die.

Guns knew that Razor was only leaning on the Reble side, that he had not yet fought much, that, above all, killing him would not make up for the death of Crim, for the horrors Mockt had inflicted upon this wiki.

Well, it would make him feel better, and with that in mind Guns kicked down the door to the warehouse and filled the room with fire, singing off Razor's hair as he jumped backwards.

Guns raised Flamer and prepared to kill yet antoher Reble, when Razor spoke.

"Wait! I have information you want! Information about Toby!", Razor shouted.

Guns lowered Flamer. "Toby's dead. I put a bullet in his brain, right before I burnt his corpse."

"No!", Razor replied. "You killed the first Toby. But there are two- there have always been two."

Guns paused, and Razor, taking this as a sign, continued. "Didn't you wonder what happened to the bot-beasts and Sockpuppets that Toby had? You destroyed his facility, but they still appear in the battles. You hunted after Dax, but he didn't have them either. Toby did! It was the second Toby! The second Old Baby!"

Guns nodded. It made sense.

"Ok, fine. But that's not very helpful, is it? Toby2 could be anywhere for all I know. And those bot-beasts are still out there. You need to give me more information, or I'll give you a bullet."

Razor smiled. "Oh, I thought you'd say that. So I'll make you an excellent offer. I'll take you to him."

Guns smiled. "That's more like it. Where is he?"

And now Razor's smile became a grin.

"Yellowstone. 1936."

Chapter Four
By Mafia

The Death of NukeVac. No one else has raised any objections.

Mafia walked into the Hospital in which NukeVac was being held. The TSPTF had gotten lucky when LG had been on hand to revert the injury. They would have no such luck this time. He walked to the TSPTF guards, and said "Lt mE pst plz". They looked confused, but Mafia looked identical to Local, so they shrugged, and let him into NukeVac's chamber. Nuke looked up. A shadowy figure stood over him, pistol outstretched. "Iv colled it Sacrasm". Nuke realized that this was not the relentless Reble Hunter "Local", but someone that looked like him. Mafia let out a raucous cry of "VUVA LE REVULUTION", and shot Nuke. Meanwhile, in Rome, Local had returned to the World. MOckt had fled, and the chance was lost. Local cursed, but he had managed to plan a tracking device on MOckt. He was still in the City, rallying the defense. Local looked out the window, and had Line of Sight on MOckt. He was about to shoot MOckt, when a beeper blipped. It notified him that his other self was here. The other self that chose the wrong path to follow. Local blasphemed under his breath, and prepared to leave Rome. His target was in Toronto.

Nuke is not going to die dammit, he's supposed to be by LG in the final fight.

'''Ms says it is fine. No One else raised any objections. Nuke isn't part of the 4 horsemen'''

'''You're twisting my words a bit. You asked "Why can't I kill Nuke," and I said I didn't know what you were talking about, because I never directly said you couldn't. '''

'''ALSO. He didn't kill Nuke. Just hurt him. ^ (face) ^'''

​​Chapter Five
by Scraw

''' Note: If you're not going to write a chapter, don't claim it. Also, we need to stop wrapping up our individual threads and set the stage up for the big finale. '''

Scraw saw land approached. He looked at his map and recognized that he was above Canada. He would have to land soon. He scanned his mind for nearby TSPTF holdings and shockingly realized that the only city left standing was Montreal. Montreal had a good general defending it, but Scraw wasn't sure how long Lx could hold up. As he neared the city, he heard Ratc kicking and screaming more. It was good that he hadn't realized that Scraw couldn't tie a knot for his life and that his bonds were very loose.

He slowly began the descent before he noticed that Montreal was engaged in battle. He immediately ceased descent and set the plane on autopilot so he could go to the back. In the back, he took the duct tape off of Ratc's mouth. "YOU ASHOLLE! TEH REBLES WILL BEET YOU 4VER U SUK." This was another typical reble statement. "Listen, uh, the TSPTF is attacking, uh, Reble, uh, Chicago! Yes, Reble Chicago! I need a gunner. Can you fire on the reb-ah, TSPTF invaders?" A massive lie, but Ratc would probably believe it. "YS I WILL KILLL ALL THE TSDSTPF YOU ALL SUCK OK!" Satisfied, Scraw taped his mouth closed again but cut his hands loose. He sat him at the guns and went back to fly the plane.

On the radio, he told Ratc to attack anyone outside the city. Ratc responded positively and fired blindly at the invaders. They were rebles, but he did not need to know that. They quickly cleared a wide road that could be used as a runway for landing, and land he did. Then he tied Ratc back up and took him into the streets of the city. However, they wouldn't get far. Six men were waiting for them. "You are under arrest by order of General LxCacassus of the TSPTF."

"Shit."

Shit, we need to nom Lx (in like actual life).

Fairly sure Rarc is dead.

Chapter Six
Written by Mscoree

Chapter Seven
<p style="text-align:center;">by Cour  Rage. Pure red rage. That's what he felt.

Rage at the Rebles. It had been peaceful before the rebles had begun to destroy what so many other generations had struggled to build.

Rage at the Neutrals. They didn't pick a side, didn't choose something to believe in. They had no passion, no fire, no drive.

Rage at the TSPTF. If they had accepted Cour into their ranks, he wouldn't be here. He would have had power. Power to create. Power to destroy.

He sat, blindfolded and gagged. Neither were necessary, since he knew he had no chance of escape. He seethed. The rebles had restrained him in every way possible, and were still too cowardly to show their faces.

He could sense their presence. Even though he couldn't see them, he could hear them. Their boots impacting the floorboards and the nervous flicking of their safties. He could smell them. The smell of anticipation. The smell of anxiousness. The smell of fear.

Some small part of his brain struggled to comprehend what was happening. Between the car crash, the bash on his head from falling, and the punch to the face that shattered his nose, this small voice seemed to think that his brain had been corrupted. But it was overpowered.

A new set of boots set the floorboards creaking again. Cour felt his stomach concave from the impact of the butt of a gun. "WHo sended u?" the stern voice yelled. Cour didn't dignify the answer with an inteligible response. Instead, he howled.

The animal inside of him was pacing, waiting to be uncaged. He was handcuffed to the chair by hand and foot, but the chair was not secured on the floor. He lunged forward towards the voice, headbutting the stranger in the stomach, before crashing to the floor at the stranger's boots. The stranger staggered, but quickly regained his composure. He again felt his stomach give way, this time to an intrusive boot.

"NO mor of tht!" screamed the stranger. Cour respnded with his own wild yell. Then he heard a comotion. His ear that was pressed to the floor heard gunfire from below. Cour began thrashing, and he heard all of the guns in the room ready themselves to fire.

In this rage, he realized that Cour was old. Cour cared about others and their well-being. Cour sacrificed of himself to give others. He had poured out his whole self in the service of the greater good, and for what? He was still locked away, somewhere in the recesses of his own mind. But this. This was a new person. This person had raw power. This power was not granted by the TSPTF, or the Rebles, or anyone else. This power was his, and he would take it.

He was no longer Cour.

He was Rage.

The stranger flipped him over so that the back of the chair was against the floor. He felt heavy breathing right by his face. This stranger was trying to intimidate him. Well no more. He could sense the stranger's fear and despiration, smell the liquor that he used to go to sleep at night. And he would take action.

In one swift motion, he bit through the gag and right into the stranger's lip. And he did not let go. A punch to the gut knocked the wind out of Rage. The caged animal released his captive.

"U litle sh-" was all the stranger could say as the room erupted with gunfire.

After the gunfire subsided, he felt a new presence enter the room.

His blindfold was torn away, and light flooded his vision.

"Scraw" seethed Rage.

'''Note: Whatever Scraw does, I'll follow. I will need one more chapter eventually to solve this little personality disorder.'''

Chapter Eight
By  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

"Pour me another scotch," Crimson said as he sat back on the bench. A servant arrived to pour him another scotch as Crimson stared at the horizon. "So this is what it's like outside of time," he said, sipping his drink. He sat in front of a shoreline, watching the tides go in and out. He had no idea how long he had been gone. All he knew was that he no longer existed. This whole thing was likely to be an illusion created by his mind. It was trying to comprehend the fact that he didn't exist anymore.

As he sat back, another person arrived. He recognized the other guy from the commune chats. Feudalplague. "Feudal," Crimson said as he sipped his drink. "Crimson? How did you get here?" Feudal asked. Crimson shook his hand. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey," Crimson said. Feudal looked puzzled. "Wait, what?" Crimson rolled his eyes, "Mockt. His sockpuppets created a paradox by interacting with him. The paradox was a tiny rift in time that appeared as a singularity. I was sucked out of time through a hole the size of a pencil tip." Feudal looked puzzled again. Crimson sighed, "I don't exist anymore."

Feudal sat in a seat next to Crimson. Crimson sighed and asked, "So... what happened to you?" Feudal chuckled and said, "Would it make any difference?" Crimson tilted his head. Feudal sighed and said, "I tried breaking some people out of Mockt's concentration camps. It worked and I staged a revolt in the camps, but I was captured and... well, I think you know the reference." Crimson nodded. "Well, it sounds like you put up a hell of a fight," he said. Feudal poured a glass of scotch as Crimson relaxed. "So what are you going to do?" Feudal asked.

Crimson looked at Feudal and back at the ocean. "This," he said. Feudal sat up and said, "What do you mean 'this'?" Crimson motioned to himself, indicating that he planned on relaxing. "This!" he exclaimed. "No, you're a TSPTF member. Part of LG's Rainbow Six. You've got to do something!" Feudal cried. Crimson sat up and said, "Feudal, I- I can't. I don't exist anymore!" Feudal responded with, "So what?" Crimson chuckled and said, "So I can't do anything! It is impossible for me to come back. When you're torn out of reality, you can't come back, no matter how you got there. Whether you died or were banned or torn out of time by a paradox. This is why the dead don't come back."

"There's got to be something you can do," Feudal said. They both sat back and thought. "You know there are two unrealities," Feudal said. Crimson sat up, "What?" Feudal nodded. "I guess the laws of unreality don't apply to everything. It's inherent knowledge," he said. Crimson was puzzled. "So what are these 'unrealities'?" he inquired. Feudal said, "Well, there's the unreality we're in. It's the Infinite Unreality. So large and complex that anything can happen here on a whim. That scotch? This beach? The clothes you're wearing? You summoned these because it's where you're comfortable. The Infinite Unreality is endless."

Crimson thought for a moment. "So it's like heaven?" he asked. "Not existing has perks." Feudal said. "So what stops me from stepping back into time?" Crimson asked. Feudal responded with, "Infinity outweighs any finite number. Trying to access reality will cause another paradox and maybe even delete some of your own timelines. Unless, of course, you're in the Absolute Unreality. It's where most banned people end up. We don't know anything about it except for the fact that the torment there is said to be unlike anything imaginable." Crimson sat back, "Banned users." He thought for a moment. "It's said that some of these people were so implausible that impossible things could happen even when they existed in time. Think of who's been banned. Owen. Catherine. Rebelsoldier. We could get them to do the impossible."

"You're not suggesting..." Feudal said before Crimson nodded and said, "I need to get back into reality to save the TSPTF. We need an Army of the Banned."

Chapter Nine
Written By Guns

Guns and Razor have followed Toby's army to Yellowstone, in the modern day, where the second Toby is now amassing an army to drive the TSPTF forces led by Lx, Scraw, and Oer out of the Americas while the rest are involved in Rome...

Guns wasn't remotely surprised that Razor's information led to a trap.

He was, however, fairly surprised that Razor wasn't aware of this fact, as evinced by the surprised look in his face, right below the point where the bot-beast had taken the top of his skull off.

(More to Come)

'''Remeber Guns, there is a large Eastern TSPTF army in the Eastern seaboard working their way into the continent too. ~Imp'''

'''They will be defeated if I do not help them destroy these vast hordes. 1 billion sockpuppets. 1 trillion bot-beasts. There is only one way to save them.'''

I must nuke Yellowstone.

In 1936.

xD ~The Mysterious Guns Fellow

​​Chapter Ten
By Dax (and Imp)

Dax was getting tired of the running. He just wanted to get out of the damn war, away from those rebles and their "st00pid speak". He was fighting for the wrong side, dammit! He needed to get back to the surface, also known as AltHistory. Taking steps two at a time, Dax rushed up toward the surface, out of his lab. There was no lifts to the lower levels, so he had to climb the stairs to the mid-section of the underground building before he could use the lift. By the time he got to the lift, he felt as if his legs were on fire. He sat down for a moment and cursed himself for forgetting to bring water. He sat down in a fold-up chair he put in the lift for the reason that the lift was slow and  the going was long. It would take at least an hour for the.lift to get from the Map Games Lab the AltHist Wiki. He sat down an remembered.

7 months ago.

''"This better be good. If I sat in a lift for something similar to the Ultimate Map Games Lab I'm going to be pissed." Dax said with doubt audible in his voice. "This Is Not a 3rd world Croatian Lab," Sine Dei Gloriem said confidently.''

''"You're right, it's a 3rd World Colombian lab," Dax said with the utmost cynicism as the two neared the door to the Map Game Lab. Sine had half a mind to refute and argue with Dax about how Colombia is nothing like Croatia and is superior, but he had a task at hand. "Here We Are," Sine said, opening the last cement door.''

''Dax walked inside, there were scrap aparts used to run simulations everywhere. At first glace the place looked like garbage. "This was a waste of my time" Dax said, turning to leave the distaste zone that was the lab. Sine grabbed his arm "No Look Closer" Sine said. Dax, deciding to humor him looked closer at the parts, and then realized some others  parts were rare or outright banner  on the surface''

''The potential for the unending Map Simulations, where unlike the surface they could go to to the future, they could go to other worlds, other dimensions, they didn't even have to pertrain to 'history. "Damn, I think you actually found  something worth while'," '''Dax said, conceding defeat. "Theirs More," Sine said before beginning to walk in the rusty and obviously neglected lab'''. '''

Sine walked and stepped over the scrap, uncaring to the value of some of the pieces, where as Dax tried to avoid the not  valuable ones. ''"You should be more careful where you step," he said to his Colombian friend, "Why Its everywhere," Sine responded. Dax loomed around and saw he was right, even the rarest of pieces were copious to an almost unfathomable extent.The two continued to walk until a actual fuctioning Map Simulator came into view. It was being worked on by two men, one named Whipsnade, one named The River Nile-2, and Daxus didn't know it at the time but it would become one of the most beautiful simulations of all time: An Alternate 1921''

The Present

Dax came out of his trance as the elevator reached the surface. The doors opened and led to a small cement hut, of which Daxus walked through, and outside was the jungle of Northern Columbia, and to his immediate right rested the Pacific coast, where his sail boat rested.

(Elaboration coming eventually)
 * Goes to AltHist Wikia
 * Flashback
 * Finds/ kills influential Rebel (Ninjavswarrior likely) 
 * Comes into contact with TPSTF
 * Asks to defect
 * Talks with Imp
 * Insults DeanSims
 * Immigrant Song by Led Zepplin plays


 * Star-Spangled Banner is sung by George Washington
 * Uses freedom to kick LMB in his Communist balls.

Ninja is dead.
 * ​​J.K.
 * Those Who Died by Violence Before Redemption

'''Why are you killing me? I am just trying to keep the peace. I'm not even an influential "rebel", perhaps only an influential "peacekeeper"'''
 * Because you were one of the people listed as "rebel" that was not already dead or super-important to the story. Sorry bro, no hard feelings. It may be because I'm drunk but I love you right now Morgan Freeman (talk) 04:54, December 3, 2013 (UTC)
 * Since I'm played by Jackie Chan, can I die in an epic kung fu fight?

'''While the Immigrant song is beautiful, come on. Let's stick with the classics.'''

Besides, Moby Dick has a better drum solo.

 23:29, November 29, 2013 (UTC)

Chapter Twelve
By Local Mafia Boss

Local, with a small unit of new Users, snatched from Chat mere moments before they would have converted to Reblehood, surveyed the Fortified Camp of his alter ego in disgust. Rusting Sheets of Iron were bolted haphazardly to a perimeter fence made of Wooden Logs. He lifted Sarcasm in one hand, let out a rousing cry of 'For the TSPTF', and led the charge at the Camp. As he moved forwards, he saw a Reble lift his head from the inside of the Camp.

"TSPF SUCM! DEFEDN THE BAESE! DEFEDN! DEFEDN! 4 MAAFIA!"

The Rebles were truly awake now. As the Sun crested the Horizon, the Alpine Landscape was littered with Corpses. Local had been beaten back. He stood, and saw the dejected, unmotivated faces of his men. He began to talk.

"I don't know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a unit or we are going to crumble. Inch by inch, spam by spam till we're finished. We are in hell right now, gentlemen believe me and we can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell. One inch, at a time.

Now I can't do it for you. I'm only one user. I look around and I see these young faces and I think I mean I made every wrong choice a person could make. I uh.... I pissed away all my money believe it or not. I chased off anyone who has ever loved me. And lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.

You know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That's, that's part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is War. Because in either game, life or war, the margin for error is so small. I mean one half step too late or to early you don't quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don't quite flame it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in ever break of the game every minute, every second.

In this Unit, we fight for that inch. In this Unit, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference between WINNING and LOSING between LIVING and DYING.

I'll tell you this in any fight it is the guy who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know if I am going to have any life anymore it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch because that is what LIVING is. The six inches in front of your face.

Now I can't make you do it. You gotta look at the guy next to you. Look into his eyes. Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this unit because he knows when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for him.

That's a unit, gentlemen and either we heal now, as a unit, or we will die as individuals. That's War, guys. That's all it is. Now, what are we gonna do?"

This was met by an awkward silence. Local Sighed.

"Anyone that doesn't go into battle will be shot on the spot."

The Unit cheered; This was the Local they knew.

Local smiled, and raised his RPG. It was knew. He called it 'Grammar Nazism'. He fired, and the Reble Fortress' edge collapsed.

Two Hours Later

The Reble forces had been routed, but had retreated into the implausibly secure fortifications they had built into a Glacier. Local merely glared at the '3 metre thick' doors, and they caved inwards with a thump. Many of the Rebles had died in the destruction of the Doors, but Local's entire Unit had been killed fighting their way in. Local stood alone. He had no idea how many Rebles remained inside.

Fortunately for Local, the answer was 1. Unfortunately, this one was Mafia.

"DYE TRATOR SUCM!" Mafia screamed, as he raised Sacrasm.

Local dived behind cover, as a smattering of poorly spelt Sarcastic Remarks clattered against the Floor.

Local fired Sarcasm once. It hit Mafia in the stomach. Mafia ignored this wound, and Local cursed. it had to be instantaneous death, or they would both get the wound, and it would hurt neither of them. He ignored the blood pouring out of his Stomach, and shot Mafia in the head. It went into the Brain, but was non fatal. The wound healed, but continued to Bleed.

The Battle continued for many hours. Mafia's base collapsing around them, as Local's Plausible Aura and knowledge of Physics permiated the area. Eventually, the inevitable happened. A piece of Steel, guided by Mafia, hit Local Squarely in the Chest. Although it didn't do any real damage, it trapped Local against a wall. Mafia advanced on him.

"Thyme 2 dye, TSPF SUCM."

Local looked up "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine"

Mafia looked confused "Wut Muuvie was tht frum?"

Local looked up in surprise "Why don't you think about that for a minute?"

Mafia, accustomed to the ways of the Rebles, did so. Meanwhile, Local was worming his way out from beneath the Steel Sheet.

Mafia finally looked up, and shouted "Star Wars A New Hopper!"

This last piece of blasphemy was the last thing Mafia ever said, as Local fired a Sarcastic Remark through Mafia's skull. It was over. Local walked out of the Base, which promptly collapsed, and back to his Car. He opened the Boot, and changed into his Suit. He was going... Somewhere. Somewhere relaxing. He looked up, and saw a sign. It said, simply 'Welcome to Switzerland!'. Local smiled, and walked towards it.

Chapter Twelve
By  CrimsonAssassin- "I have special eyes"

Crimson walked alone in the plain, white, purgatorial space. Feudalplague had described it as akin to heaven. Anyone could create paradise. Without creation, however, this nothingness was torture. It seemed like he had talked to Feudal a few minutes ago, but at the same time it felt like it had been years. The ground under his feet, if one could call it ground, felt like nothingness and everything at the same time. It was indescribable. Crimson stared forth, thinking. The horizon in front of him was endless, but it felt like he was staring at a wall. He stopped for a minute. What was he even breathing? Was he even breathing?

He thought for a moment, picturing a living room. His living room. He sat down and put his head in his hands. "What is this?" His voice echoed back at him. It didn't even sound like it was his voice. Or a singular voice. It was a thousand voices calling back to him in a thousand tongues. He tried to center himself. He needed a definite place and setting. The room didn't even exist and he knew. He stood up and looked at his reflection. There was none. Looking as a book, he flipped through, seeing various letters inside but no words.

"The human mind can't comprehend its own brilliance," a familiar voice said. Crimson turned around. Pita was sitting on the couch, looking at Crimson. Crimson looked at the book and back at Pita. "I... I... what is this?" Pita tilted his head and said, "It's non-existence. Didn't anyone tell you that?" Crimson hung his head and put the book back before sitting down next to Pita. "I need to get out of here," Crimson said. Pita nodded and said, "Everyone tries. Unfinished business. Something in the universe that needed closure."

Crimson opened his eyes wide. "Something needed to end," he said. Pita nodded. "You need to get back to the war," Pita said as Crimson nodded. "I need to get to the Absolute Unreality. How do I do that?" Crimson asked. Pita looked puzzled. "Why would you want to go there?" he asked. "I... I need an army," Crimson said. "The banned users of wiki. All of them." Pita looked at Crimson. "You're a madman," he said. Crimson responded by saying, "It's the only way to come back and end the war." Pita looked forward and said, "There is no way to get to the Absolute Unreality." Crimson sighed. "I knew you'd say that," he said.

"I knew you wouldn't understand what I mean. It's impossible. In a world of impossibility," Pita said. "When everything is possible, the impossible becomes the implausible." Crimson stood up and said, "Of course!" The living room around them disappeared. A portal to the Absolute Unreality could be summoned. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Crimson?" Pita reasoned. Suddenly, a hole appeared in front of Crimson. The portal. Crimson looked back at Pita and said, "Absolutely not," smiling. He cried, "Allons-y!" and jumped into the portal. Everything stopped. The echoes, the infiniteness. Here, everything was absolute.

The sky was black, like a night without stars. Crimson exited the portal near what appeared to be a long bridge crossing a sea of nothingness. Taking a deep breath, Crimson walked across the bridge. As he came to a plaza, he noticed that there was nobody there. Just a giant hole in the middle of this plaza. Crimson looked down and saw a gigantic pit filled with the banned. They vainly reached for him as Crimson observed. These people, mindless in their attempts to reach him, appeared faceless.

"Welcome to the Absolute Unreality," a voice called from behind him. Crimson turned around. Three cloaked figures approached him. A second voice said, "I must say, we didn't expect you here, Crimson." The third voice accusingly said, "Did you meet your fate with courage?" The two flanking the middle figure lowered their hoods. Rebelsoldier and Owen1983. The middle figure lowered its hood, revealing a female face. "Or are you a 'visitor'?" Catherine asked.

Chapter Thirteen
By Imp (Say Hi?!)

Things had fucked up in Rome. Ms had pulled heroics which saved Nuke from the destroyed plane, but nothing had been accomplished overall. Imp had needed to get out of the aircraft quickly and this he had done. He could not save the plane from its fate as it tumbled toward the ground, however, and this just added to the losses he had to deal with. Imp needed to get out of the city and fast - he needed to go and gather a team loyal to him and he needed them quickly. Reports of reble counter-attacks were coming in and the rebles in Rome were celebrating - hoping that this may lead to the reversal of their fortunes in the so-far disasterous war against the new TSPTF invasion force. Imp knew that if he could not get out and get to America, his aim of establishing TSPTF control on the continent might completely falter.

Rome was a mess, Imp noted as he toured the streets. Things had been left in chaos everywhere and it was evident the rebles knew nothing in how to manage a city. Litter was everywhere, buildings were broken and public works were in terrible shape. Not to mention the thousands of reble troops vandalising all the walls with their slogans and mottos. "MOckt is ur bevod LEDAR! Foluw him to vctroy amd tetal contrul of da wiki!" one suchslogan read. Another was more like "Ludgunan is a foul nad cant ran tjhe TfspT and so thell loze! Thei r lozzers!". It was totally disgraceful. If Imp hadn't needed to get out of the city - he would have ensured he would take on the rebles and make sure they died. He might have even gone looking for MOckt's sorryass himself - such was his anger. He was still upset over the fact he could not save Crim from whatever hellhole he was in currently. But he was sure Crim was not dead - things like that just didn't happen without glory or peace.

Finally reaching the docks, Imp hid behind a stack of boxes and observed enemy movements. Most of them were patrolling around, and they definately were somehow alert. But they all seemed like copies, clones even... And Imp got it! They were all sockpuppets, and if he could take out the controller - he could destroy the sockpuppet rebles incredibly easily. He scanned the area for the main command center - and found it. It was the most heavily guarded place on the docks, and it was a yacht. Imp sneaked past the rebles - which wasn't really a hard thing to do, and he got into within sprinting range of the yacht. "I wonder who is in there?" wondered Imp. He had absolutely no idea who could be in there but he was going to make sure whoever it was, they would be banned.

Imp announced his arrival with a bang. Firing off powerful beams of light at the rebles guarding the boat, they were soon killed with one hit. However, many began to replicate - not in large numbers, but enough to cause problems. But Imp knew it was now or never and he fired off a beam into the water, diverting the attention of the rebles and allowing him to enter the yacht.

"Well who do we have here?" asked a voice seated on a chair looking out of the window to the sea. "I was hoping you could enlighten me", Imp replied. He suddenly noticed that whoever was leading this facitity could speak properly - and that was a problem. The man seated on the chair turned round to face Imp. Imp was shocked as realisation gripped him. "Oxfordshire1972?! I thought you had gone away - far from this wiki. No one has heard from you in a long while, so why this sudden appearence and the joining of the reble side?". Oxford looked Imp sqarely in the eye, and replied "I would have never gotten anywhere just going about, being 'just another user' on the wiki. So I took my fate in my own hands and joined the rebles. Although I never really understood their st00pid speak."

"Sionara Suckas!"

Cast
' READ MY EDIT SUMMARIES, YANK. '

The Rebles and the NAM

 * Keanu Reeves as Mocktavian Sorryass  
 * Orlando Bloom as all the WCs
 * Charlie Sheen as Toby
 * Jackie Chan as Ninjasvswarriors
 * Ashton Kutcher as Daxus Inferno
 * Steven Seagal as Ract3333
 * Nicolas Cage as Reximus55
 * John Malkovich as Warman666

TSPTF

 * Jeremy Irons as Lordganon
 * David Tennant as CrimsonAssasin
 * Matt Smith as GunsnadGlory
 * Peter Capaldi as Scrawland Scribblescratch
 * Ben Kingsley as Gandhi as Imperium Guy
 * Brad Pitt as Monster Pumpkin
 * Pierce Brosnan as NuclearVacuum
 * Samuel L. Jackson as Vivaporious
 * Daniel Day Lewis as FirstStooge

A * indicates a possible appearance.
 * Kevin Costner as Yankovic270
 * Ewan McGregor as Mitro
 * George Clooney as Nik
 * Gerard Butler as Benkarnell
 * Liam Neeson as Louisiannan
 * Christian Bale as Marcpasquin*
 * Robert Downey, Jr. as Oerwinde*

Other People

 * Sylvester Stallone as Feudalplague
 * Mark Wahlberg as CourageousLife
 * Tom Hanks as Mscoree
 * Gary Sinise as Tr0llis
 * Bear Grylls as Callumthered
 * Al Pacino as Local Mafia Boss
 * Christopher Walken as David Rain
 * Matt Damon as Deansims
 * Alec Baldwin as Bfoxius
 * Ben Stiller as LightningLynx
 * Casey Affleck as SkyGreen24
 * Christopher Eccleston as LxCaucassus
 * Michael Caine as EoGuy
 * Donnie Yen as Nkbeeching
 * Sacha Baron Cohen as Owen
 * Chiwetel Eliofor as Razorfang
 * Mila Kunis as Catherine