Story [Issue 12] The Revolution

[Meliora 1,652]

So you've read the first Hunger Games. What happens next?

Kerri

I smile as I look around the map. Ever since I won the Games, my home map of Düsseldorf has been in constant celebration, all battling put on hold. Everything looks picture perfect, the map being decorated with special billboards, 1,750 crystal gold boxes and a permanent victory paint for the inhabitants, who were also given free supplies.

Behind me, seven younger tanks line up, all proudly wearing the special paint. I sense they would like a sort of a parade just before the banner-launching ceremony. I lead them around the map, while telling them stories of my experience in the Games – hoping I’m not boring them to death.

We reach the outskirts of the map when I decide to conclude my story. "So, did you enjoy that?" I ask. Silence. I turn around, to find that my train of tanks has vanished. I look around but find nothing, instead a small Wasp and Smoky approaching me, who isn’t wearing the special victory paint. It has two words on it, in a blood-red colour on a black background. I try to decipher what the words are, but can only make out: Th_ Rev_______.

He looks at me for a while, with admiration so great it seemed fake, but I accept the favour with a positive attitude. “Y-y-you are s-so strong… Show me your skills!” he beams, and drives towards a corner. I follow him, using paths of Düsseldorf I never knew existed. It is when I reach that corner I see the Wasp scamper away, as if playing some sort of prank. I sigh and begin to make my way back to the centre of the map when I hear a small, timid voice, probably coming from the Smoky, repeating the word “Duel”. I laugh to myself, imagining the doddle it would be to face him, I – “Duel”… Another voice from another tank joins in with the chanting. I start to panic as I realise that this is not the celebration I was anticipating. Two more voices add to the daunting chant. The voices are getting louder, and nearer, and I know that the next series of events may put my life on the line.

I step out into the open, frantically searching for an escape route. I am extremely vigilant, the pains of my last mistake in the Games keeping my eyes wide open. I catch sight of a Wasp and Thunder M2, chanting away with the most patronising tone. I slip in between two buildings, and wait for him to turn the corner I am situated at. Using M3 Freeze, and a newly upgraded M3 Viking, I know that short-range is on my side – for once. A muzzle peeps into view and I strike. The Thunder is completely bewildered and tries to shoot, but the shot travels hopelessly into a wall. I take the few seconds’ advantage and freeze him to death as he shouts “Je l'ai trouvée!”. The words mean nothing to me; however I know he has, in his own way, alerted the other three tankmen.

My worst fears become real as the only two paths I can take become blocked by a two identical Firebird-Hunter M2s. I freeze in my spot, knowing that the best I can do is surrender. It is now that I notice that these two tankmen also have the same eerie paint as the Wasp, who appears from nowhere and comes directly at me, turrets touching. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I ask, with as much confidence and bravado I can gather. “You will not leave from here, so-called leader,” smirks the Wasp. “You will watch as you and your friends perish at our hands. But what is this? This, is The Revolution.”

Darius

“Missing.” The word echoes and bounces around in my head, as if trying to tell me something. Nevertheless I smile and drive over towards the rest of the town, who are just about to launch the banners and streamers into the air. I look around anxiously and notice that our leader is gone. Missing. “WAIT!” I scream, rushing to the centre of the crowd. “She is not here!” An elderly veteran shoots at the wall for silence. “From wherever she is, she will see and enjoy them. Now hinder us no more, child, and let our celebration commence,” he orders, with a slight edge to his voice.

Frustrated, I keep silent but do not give up. Something is definitely wrong and I know it. I peer in to take a look at the banners themselves; they look surprisingly heavy, and the colour… On the outside it looks black, nowhere near the orange and yellow victory paint we have. “Er – who made these for us?” I ask a lady. “A specialist – from Berlin.” The map rings a horrible bell in my head. It was in that map the Ricochet and Thunder vowed to get their revenge on all of Düsseldorf, and surely a favour would just be a cover-up, a trap... At once every piece of the puzzle fits. I back away, starting off slowly but quickly developing into a run. As the lady nears the launch button (which she will shoot), my suspicions take over my actions and I know that something horrible will happen. I try to scream, but my turret seems clouded with dust. “RUN!” I choke, in vain… Only 1/3 of the town hear me and leave, but for the rest it is too late. The streamers go up into the air.

The whole map cries out in alarm as they witness the horrors that befall them. The streamers drop small but lethal mines onto the ground which explode at an enormous scale, some killing two or three tanks at a time. The streamers themselves are black, with two words on them. I only need to see one letter to know what they are.

The sky turns pitch black, leaving the town in complete darkness. From the middle of nowhere a white scroll falls at my wheels. I read it aloud, trembling at every word. “And, like the walls of Jericho, you will collapse and fall – to your death. –Best wishes, TR,” I conclude, letting the horror sink in. Mark, a close friend, hurries to my side for comfort. “Do not worry, there is no way one earth they can penetrate the –” The ground begins to quake as he says this, violently vibrating like the string of a cello. The tremor throws several of the smaller tanks off their wheels; the pugnacious winds clearly taking no prisoners. I look to my left in terror. No jest can overshadow the horror of what lies before me. The walls of Düsseldorf which have stood for centuries and centuries are falling, like a rock dropped from the tallest cliff.

Behold, row upon row of tanks, lined up in perfect alignment. I signal to Mark and three other tankmen to follow me into hiding. I hear a mixture of battle cries and wails as the rebels charge, eliminating anything in their path. I stare, powerless, as families are torn apart – children flee aimlessly, the parents trying their best to defend them, but eventually being destroyed. The urge to go out and give the rebels a piece of my mind is resisted merely by the fact that I will certainly be killed. I turn to my army of four. “We cannot go up against them, leaving one option,” I declare.
“Infiltration.”

With Mammoth and Thunder M3, health is my least worry as I lead my team through the map. All around me, buildings are collapsing, debris flying ubiquitously like wasps. I see that our only path out will be blocked by a house about to be demolished, and use a nitro to squeeze through. The others do the same, however the tank last in line is confronted by two identical Freeze-Hornets. I can but watch as they circle him demeaningly, taking small, vicious chunks out of his health. If I dare to try and assist him, I know that our mission will be exposed and will fail. My ally shoots with his Smoky, and to his luck a Critical Hit destroys the weaker tank. He uses a nitro and runs off, but a Shaft, from the middle of nowhere, shoots, and I sigh heavily as the tank comes to an abrupt halt and turns that painfully similar brown and grey. Nevertheless, I persist with my journey, until I reach the area where there are the most rebels. Facing the others, I revise my plan, emphasising greatly where attention is most necessary. “-and do not turn around,” I finish. I look at the wall we are closest to and shoot deliberately. The rebels turn the other way simultaneously, in attempt of destroying its source. Our party slips into the crowd, using the darkness as our assistant. Surrounded by at least twenty tanks, I consider our chances of being caught as zero.

I look up to see that the banners are gradually letting gravity pull them down to earth – but directly on top of us. I try to move the tanks in front of me along, but they do not budge. Inspecting them carefully, I notice that they are fake, and are being controlled by one main tank. I have no time to do anything about it as the banner lands. I move as quickly as Mammoth will let me, and that is when I notice the little blue mine stuck to the plastic.

To be continued next issue...

[r_SwagBoy110 421]

I can't wait... Awesome article!

[unholycloak5 1,814]

I can't wait for the next issue! GJ! :D

[SilverCenturion 0]

Your a great writer! Awesome job! :lol:

[Meliora 1,652]

Thanks... And you still don't know exactly who Darius is :D.

[r_flae90 28]

Nice issue, i can't wait for the next one :D

[SilverCenturion 0]

Thanks... And you still don't know exactly who Darius is :D.

Sadly no...who is it? :huh:

[hogree 4,179]

Its good stuff but IMHO you couldve got to a better point to finish off.. It leaves me hanging awkwardly.

[r_BLASTOISE-T120 241]

gah leaving me hanging indeed :P xD

[Meliora 1,652]

Hmm well I'll put a few sentences from here into the next part.

[jokjinari 160]

GJ! I wish I didn't read so fast...it ended much too quickly. Can't wait for the next installment.