THE

MANGO
WARS
Concept Created By Yaj Jhajhria
Directed and Mainly contributed by Hans Yang
Story Written By The CVMS SciOly Squad and Mathcounts
Main Contributors:
Hans | Tony | Josh | Alex | Yaj | Edison | Potato

Quick Disclaimer: Nearly all characters in this story have real-life

counterparts. It must be noted that while pretty much everything
about these people are the same as their characters, they are
completely separate from them and should not be judged or held
responsible for any actions/war crimes committed in the following
pages.
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 Table of Contents:

Prologue 4
Chapter One: Origins 6
Chapter Two: And Deeper We Fall 14
Chapter Three: Out of Time 24
Intermission I: Random Stuff 28
Sector II: A Lasting Conflict 31
● Chapter 4: Crazy Cretaceous Creatures 42
Sector III: The Rising Storm 51
Sector IV: Nothing to Lose 70

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 “War.
It never changes. Throughout
history, the conflicts have been
fought, but in the end, it doesn’t
change. War doesn’t decide
WHO’S RIGHT, IT JUST
DECIDES WHO’S LEFT- SO
LET’S WIN THIS WAR AND
CRUSH THE PTMS
INFIDELS!”
- Yaj Jhajhria--commander of the Carmel Valley Battalions, giving a morale-boosting speech amid
cheering soldiers cheering for WAR.

Prologue

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 For weeks, the two nations—Pacific Trails and Carmel Valley—had been in a diplomatic crisis. As the
tension between the two superpowers slowly increased, a Carmel Valley trade empire began to blossom,
eventually supplying over ten sextillions worth of mangoes every day. The CEO of this monopoly was the
legendary Yaj Jhajhria. Yaj was well known and widely hated in Pacific Trails’ society, as he was a symbol of
Carmel Valley patriotism in the popular Science Olympiad Games. These games only came around once every
year; the competition served as a constant source of bickering between these two nations. For the past four
hundred years, Carmel Valley had beaten Pacific Trails, and usually by a large margin. However, in the year of
2020, a combination of horrible events led to Pacific Trails outperforming Carmel Valley. CVMS. Beaten by
Pacific Trails. PTMS. The team that didn’t go to the most important invitational in the nation out of fear of
leaving a place with 0.0000197183% of people with coronavirus to a place with 0.00003135% of people with
coronavirus. Pacific Trails’ blood-curdling shriek of exhilaration upon learning of their victory could be heard
from MACS0647-JD. Carmel Valley, defeated, could only droop their heads in shame.

Finally, the breaking point came.

Pacific Trails, still basking in their glory, decided that they would humiliate CVMS yet again. They executed an
embargo on Yaj’s Mango Warehouse, blocking his supply routes to CCA, which made up 99.9% of Yaj’s profits.
And as Yaj’s Mango Warehouse was 99.99% of the Carmel Valley economy, the CVMS population suffered in
turn. A government shutdown was ordered and citizens all across Carmel Valley called for action against Pacific
Trails. CVMS was tired of being looked down upon and with the grand wedding of Schuyler and Chloe upon
them, these humiliating insults against them could only bear one response. Thus began the Mango Wars.

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 However.
PTMS made a grave mistake. Focused on only the power of Science Olympiad, they overlooked
MethCounts.
“SciOly is all that matters,” they thought, “MethCounts is for the really nerdy Asians too weird and
incapable to be in SciOly. Even if they do try something, we have Ethan, our undefeatable God, defending us,
and CVMS will stand no chance against us.”

But little did they know that their aegis would be completely shattered…

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 Chapter
One:
Origins

1/23/20
Yaj Jhajhria
11444 Canter Heights Drive, 92130

Yaj lowered the raspberry Juul from his lips, the rim of the newspaper gently dragging against the side of
his handmade parka. Beside him, his second in command, Bruce Bei, pored over the mango trade statistics,
carefully marking each shipment with a red Sharpie, occasionally pushing up his thin horn-rimmed glasses. He
took a swig of water from his cracked gray mug reading “Hua Xia Chinese School.”
“Bring my slaves,” Yaj whispered to Bruce.
Bruce glanced up, startled, and blurted, “You don’t have any, sir.”
Yaj collapsed back into his chair and groaned, then stood up, patting his jacket, and strode over to the
medicine cabinet, and pulled out a jar of pills. Reaching for his Hydro Flasksksk, he poured a handful of the
small tablets into his hand and swallowed. Outside, feathery snow accumulated on his father’s car, and
everything was whiter than Karen, which is saying a lot.
“You see, Bruce, this is what climate change has brought us. This is the first time it has snowed here in
many, many years.” Yaj wistfully placed his hands on the freezing window, breathing softly between his strokes
on the window, marking a mango in the window. Bruce stood next to him, appreciating the view into the
bedroom next door.
“Is that Liz and Luke, sir?” He squinted.
Yaj peered through the windows, grimacing. “Oh, yes, I believe so, actually, let's close the blinds.” Bruce
twisted the plastic knob and continued marking the almost non-existent mango shipments, while Yaj took
another deep draft of his Camel Light.

Suddenly, a light pierced the closed blinds, and Yaj gestured quickly for Bruce to open the blinds.
Rushing to the window, he quickly opened the blinds and the faint outline of a UPS truck greeted him. Loading
his Glock 19, Yaj beckoned for Bruce to follow him, and Bruce unclipped a Spas-12 from his hip belt, and
followed, scanning for potential threats. As they reached the garage, Yaj snapped his raspberry Juul closed and
pressed the button, the heavy aluminum doors shaking as Bruce raised his shotgun, slowly moving out into the
snow, gliding in a crouch. The UPS driver raised his arms, backing up against the truck, and slid to his knees,
Bruce slipping the shotgun back into his belt, trying not to startle the poor delivery man. Yaj, clad in a winter
jacket and bandana, twirling his Glock in concentric circles around on his pinkie, and gingerly retrieved the
package with his other hand. He waved the driver away and Bruce followed him back inside, the driver hurriedly
clambering back into his seat, crashing into a few mailboxes before leaving in a rush.

“Let’s review.” Yaj opened another Juul, and Bruce opened the new package. His eyes widened as he
took in the information. His glasses fell to the ground, but he didn’t mind, as he passed the message back to Yaj.
It was a newspaper, and Yaj took a few breaths, before opening it. Upon seeing it, he tossed the paper onto the
ground, stomped on it twice, then Bruce, playing along, tossed a Bic lighter into the pile of papers. The
headlines “MANGO EMBARGO IMMINENT, CARMEL VALLEY DOOMED?” briefly flashed, before
disappearing into a stack of ashes.

“Get the guns, get the men and women, I’ve had enough of this sh**...”

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 “This is war.”

1/23/20
Schuyler Chao-Land

Schuyler and Chloe rested on the sofa together, Schuyler busy watching a potato baking show while
simultaneously playing GamePigeon with Ravi, and Chloe asleep, on his shoulder, slightly snoring as the woman
on screen was lit on fire. Schuyler wasn’t even paying attention, busy playing Gamepigeon with Ravi. He yelled
with frustration as the golf ball narrowly missed the hole.

Suddenly, the windows in the house blew in as two figures clad in combat gear brandished assault rifles,
unloading 5.56 rounds around him, streaking past him. Ducking under the coffee table, a round struck his
shoulder, and he fell backward, screaming in pain, his consciousness wavering. Crimson waves flashed at the edge
of his vision, as he saw his Chloe, his beloved Chloe, disappear into the black and cold night. As he passed out,
he spied Kevin Bacon, his rival, holding Chloe in a princess carry. The last thing he felt before he passed out was
horror.

***
Schuyler opened his eyes, still dazed, when a white light filled his eyes. Kevin Bacon stood over him, holding a
large wooden stick at his neck. Schuyler tried to scream and fight, but he was tied down tightly and had a muffler
in his mouth. As he ripped his vocal cords apart, he saw Chloe strapped to a chair, tears streaming down her face.
He noticed the three of them were alone in a cubical room, with dimensions of around 10 meters. It was made
mostly of wood and steel, dimly lit by some lightbulbs at each of the ceiling’s 4 corners.

“SHUT UP!” Kevin Bacon yelled, pushing the stick into his throat. “Just stay here and watch like a good boi.”
He released the stick and proceeded to walk over to Chloe, who was sobbing her head off. Schuyler glared at him
with a look that could bore through steel, but Kevin Bacon didn't seem to care. He unstrapped Chloe and
stepped back. Chloe immediately ran over to Schuyler and began freeing him. However, Kevin Bacon quickly
tackled her to the floor and suffered an onslaught of punches and kicks. As Chloe screamed and fought, Kevin
Bacon whispered something into her ear. Chloe suddenly relaxed and stopped fighting, but was still sobbing.
However, just as she relaxed, Kevin Bacon suddenly began taking off her shirt.

“Schuyler… Help me!!!” Chloe screamed as Kevin Bacon ran his fingers along her neck. Schuyler resumed his
struggles in vain as Kevin Bacon continued to do lewd things to her. Schuyler was more enraged than he had ever
been. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and with a yell, he broke through the solid metal wires holding him
down. He ripped the muffler off of his mouth and tackled Kevin Bacon, screaming.

“You-!” Kevin Bacon yelled, retaliating. Using his holy stature, he slipped out from Schuyler’s grip and tackled
Schuyler back. However, what he didn’t expect was to not be able to move Schuyler at all. Since he was similar in
size to Chloe, he was able to tackle her to the floor, but he didn’t have any hope of even moving Schuyler, who
was a whole foot taller than him. He looked up in horror as Schuyler raised his fist.

Suddenly, the roof disappeared, and a helicopter appeared overhead. As Schuyler turned to look, Kevin Bacon
socked him on the jaw with a right uppercut, effectively knocking him back.

“You lack experience, boy,” said Kevin Bacon, assuming a stance. Schuyler noticed that the helicopter was just a
video on the ceiling, which functioned as a ceiling as well. Seeing Kevin Bacon’s cocky but serious face, and 4

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foot 9 body, Schuyler couldn’t take him seriously. It was all he could do to not laugh. In fact, Kevin Bacon was
so holy that he hadn’t even hit Schuyler’s crotch because he wasn’t holy enough to reach it. Seeing that Schuyler
was only amused by his “master plan,” tears began to leak from Kevin Bacon’s eyes, and he began to shake.
Schuyler realized he had gone too far and walked forward, patting Kevin Bacon on the head.

“It’s ok, Kevin Bacon,” he said. “Being holy isn’t a bad thing.” However, Kevin Bacon suddenly smirked and
slugged Schuyler’s forearm with a yell. Jumping back, he taunted Schuyler.

“How’d you like that, eh?” he boasted, “Wait, what?” Interestingly enough, Schuyler was unscathed. Kevin
Bacon wasn't even holy enough to reach his crotch! Schuyler couldn’t contain himself any longer. He collapsed,
bursting with laughter. Suddenly, Kevin Bacon bolted out of the room through a hidden door, and Schuyler
snapped back into reality.

“Oh, f*ck…” Schuyler muttered, remembering Kevin Bacon’s combat gear. He scooped up Chloe, who had
recovered from her shock, in a princess carry and sprinted out the door.

“Schuyler, you’re my hero!!!” said Chloe, kissing Schuyler on the cheek. Schuyler turned away, blushing.

“Now’s not the time,” he replied. However, it was very clear that he wanted to flirt with Chloe, who was
hugging him as tightly as humanly possible. He raced down the hallways, turning at every corner until he
slammed into Kevin Bacon at a cross-section. Since Kevin Bacon was so small, Schuyler pretty much just ran
him over without even noticing his presence. This was, in fact, beneficial to Kevin Bacon, who took the time to
prop up his machine gun unnoticed and began blasting.

“Dafuq?” Schuyler muttered, turning around. “Ah, it’s him. What a pesky little rat. Didn’t even see the pig.”
There was a corner only 10 meters ahead. If he could only reach that, he would be safe. However, trying to
escape from a machine gun unscathed in a narrow hallway was a bit much to ask for. He grimaced, making sure
to protect Chloe as bullets whizzed by him and ricocheted off the walls. With each step, he was one step closer to
freedom. Even as he was out of breath, even though he didn’t even have a sub-7 mile time, he was running at a
sub-2 mile pace. He somehow managed to evade the bullets for a while, but just as he turned the corner, just as
he thought he was safe, his right calf was pierced by a bullet, and his knees buckled.

Schuyler collapsed with a scream of pain, but not before turning a hundred and eighty degrees so that he would
be below Chloe, so that his body would cushion her from the fall. They crashed into the soft wooden floor, and
Chloe ended up straddling Schuyler with her face right above his. Embarrassed, Schuyler’s face went bright pink
and he quickly turned away. Chloe, on the other hand, hugged and kissed him over and over again. At this point,
Schuyler had forgotten all about the pain of being shot and was engrossed in Chloe’s cuteness. He was smiling
from ear to ear as he hugged her back. These two were in their own world, separate from anything and
everything else.

Kevin Bacon had been standing over them for a while, but couldn’t bear to disturb them. He felt that if he did,
he would incur the wrath of the deities that ruled the world. And thus, he admitted defeat. With tears streaming
down his eyes, Kevin Bacon turned and left, dragging his machine gun back to his armory, as Schuyler and
Chloe made out in the hallway.

After a few hours, Schuyler and Chloe finally separated, out of breath and still fully focused on each other. It
was only then that Schuyler finally saw the pool of blood on the floor. As soon as he saw it, pain coursed through
his body, not only from his leg, but from the wound on his shoulder as well, which had opened up.

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“Holy frick,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “We have no idea where we are, and I’m injured. Go on without
me. I’ll be fine here.” He waved Chloe off, but she refused to move.

“No!” she said, pouting. “I’m not leaving without you. If you’re staying here, I am too.”

“Well then,” he replied, smiling, “What are we gonna do here? I can’t walk. I could crawl or just hobble along,
but that isn’t exactly an ideal method of transportation.”

“I’ll carry you!” exclaimed Chloe, standing up.

“Nah, there’s no way,” Schuyler said, shaking his head. “I guess I could try limping. Could you give me a hand?”
He grabbed Chloe’s outstretched hand and pulled himself up with a grunt. Chloe draped his left arm around
her shoulder in order to help support him, and the two slowly hobbled along. Well, Chloe tried to, at least—in
reality, Schuyler was just supporting himself on the wall to Chloe’s left, since Chloe was too short for Schuyler
to put his arm around her.

1/23/20
Bruce Bei

Bruce ducked back from the corner, as rounds whizzed past and struck chips off the wall behind him.
“Yaj!” he yelled, struggling to be heard over the constant drumming of the Colt Browning Machine gun. “I need
your pistol!” Yaj, unsure of what to do, tossed his replacement Sig Sauer 3p2j0 to the awaiting Bruce. Bruce
underhanded the gun lightly around the corner, as to mimic the throwing of a flash grenade. He waited for the
clunk of the gun, and glanced around the wall. There he saw two members of the PTMS infantry, both ducking
away from the supposed flash grenade. He quickly sighted and shot two three round bursts through their kevlar
vests.
“Clear,” he said to Yaj, signaling to keep moving. He turned back around and crouched down to reload. Yaj
smiled to himself, and peeked around the corner just in time to see Bruce stand up again. Suddenly, he heard a
muted cracking noise.
“BRUCE!” he cried out, but it was too late. He saw Bruce’s body get punched back by the force of the bullet.
Bruce fell to the ground in a growing puddle of murky blood, his gun still in hand. Yaj crawled over in disbelief.
His childhood friend, right hand man who had been through everything with him, was dying. (yet again) Yaj’s
sight blurred, and all he could feel were his hot salty tears, and the excruciating pain of losing Bruce. Yaj dragged
his limp, lifeless body back around the corner, and turned him over. He saw the bullet lodged through Bruce’s
chest.
“You fool!” Yaj cried, tears dripping on his dying friend’s face. He wiped his eyes, and examined the wound. It
was a clean shot, piercing his heart, and sitting there like a cork. Bruce wheezed, his body shaking with pain.
“Yaj,” Bruce gasped, “End It.” Yaj, held his head in his hands, shaking his head.
“No, I can’t,” he stuttered, “Not like this. We can have the Anatomy department fix you.”
“Yaj,” Bruce, coughed, his mouth dripping blood. “Please.” He closed his eyes, and grinned, blood leaking from
his mouth. “Got a light?”
Yaj grimaced, and dropped his Kriss Vector, he collapsed against the wall, sniffling and wiping his eyes. He pulled
out his original model Ben’s knife, sobbing uncontrollably when he realized it was a gift from Bruce as
celebration for becoming the Don of the CVMS mafia. He also took out the pack of cigarettes that he shared
with Bruce, he lit one, and put in Bruce’s mouth. He looked up, “I promise, I’ll end this war once and for all.”
Propping Bruce against the wall, he unsheathed the knife, and stabbed his best friend in the chest. He sobbed, as
Bruce’s cigarette slowly extinguished into a dim illuminated orange stub. Yaj sat against the wall for a while,

9
listening to the popping noises of gunfire in the distance. Wiping his bloodstained hands on his vest, he
reminisced of all the time he had spent with Bruce. All of their adventures, memories, moments, and together
had finally come to an end. Through all of his pain, he failed to see that Bruce died with a smile on his face.

1/23/20
Ravi Achar

“Ugh, Schuyler, hurry up!” Ravi sighed impatiently, waiting for the to-be-wed boy to make his move on
GamePigeon.
“What are you doing?” Austin asked beside him, stifling a yawn.
“It’s been way too long for him to shoot a ball into a hole.”
“Way too long,” Austin agreed, not realizing the situation Schuyler was in currently.
“Shouldn’t you be taking notes? We’re in the middle of Period 1 right now.”
“Eh, who cares about Desmos anyway?” Ravi responded mindlessly, not looking up, “Come onnnn Schuyler!”
Austin shrugged and opened up 2048 cupcakes on his chromebook. “Even Yaj has been absent for a while.”
Joshua, sitting inside the dungeon deep room of Mrs. Dean, texted: “Bruce has apparently died and Yaj is
mourning” when a ground shaking BOOM rumbled throughout the campus and the uluation of the PTMS
wolves/mango thieves marked the beginning of the mango raid. Everyone quickly picked up and loaded their
Glock 19’s, rushed out and started barraging the pathetic army with 9mm bullets. Enoch, at the front, promptly
got filled with 50 pounds of lead and rocketed back with so much force that his guts rained upon the small
group of rebels from the raiders. Seeing as the enemy had been dispatched within seconds, the children headed
back into their dungeons/classrooms and resumed teaching sessions.
“What the--apparently Bruce died” Ravi reported while sitting down, surprised. Austin looked over his shoulder
to read the message Ravi received from Joshua.
“Oh,” he said, monotone, “Dangit I can’t get these two cupcakes together.”
Ravi finally looked up to face him, and simply stared.
“What?”
“Baustin, Bruce just died.”
“Yeah? Aw come on, now I just died without getting the highest cupcake! Wait what?”
“Yaj is mourning because Bruce just died. Oh, and cupcakes?”
“Yeah, Jeslyn wanted me to start playing this version. But anyway no wonder he’s absent, so how did it happen?”
Austin, finally comprehending, questioned.
“Well I don’t know, was there a PTMS attack before the one now?” Ravi admitted and Austin shrugged.
“If so, then Schuyler could have gotten involved.” The two boys, finally realizing, put the pieces together.
“He couldn’t have done one game?” Ravi asked, frustrated. Austin shook his head in mock disappointment.

1/23/20
Chloe Kim

The duo traversed the maze for hours with no progress.

“It’s ok, we’ve gotta be close,” Schuyler constantly said. However, it was clear that he was suffering and almost
about to pass out. He had wrapped his leg wound with the right sleeve of his shirt, and his shoulder with the left.
He was still, slowly but surely, losing blood. He wouldn’t be able to go on much longer. But he still smiled, for
Chloe’s sake. Chloe had noticed Schuyler’s suffering from the start, and it was all she could do to hold back her

10
tears. As they rounded the next corner, the hallway suddenly opened up into a large grassy plain, filled with
vibrant colors as far as the eye could see.

“We’re out!” Chloe yelled. No response came. “Schuyler…?” she asked. She whipped around to see Schuyler a
few meters away, collapsed on the floor in a fetal position, violently coughing up blood. Standing above him was
a naked man clad in combat gear, brandishing a huge war hammer. Chloe and Schuyler were so close to
freedom, yet so far away.

“Run!” yelled Schuyler, spitting out a glob of blood. Chloe stood her ground and shook her head with tears
streaming down her face. The unknown figure hefted the hammer and prepared to strike.

“Why…?!” screamed Chloe. “How could you do this to us?! What did we ever do to you?!” Her eyes were puffy
and red, and she was shaking with anger. A gust of air blew her hair up as she screamed at the man. She ran over
to him, pounding him with her fists.

“Answer me!!!” she screamed. The man lowered the hammer and turned to face her, still without speaking.
Schuyler was still collapsed on the floor, clutching his stomach and breathing raggedly, occasionally coughing up
blood. Chloe couldn’t stand it any more. Her loved one was severely injured, and she hadn’t been able to do a
thing about it. Just because of her, Schuyler was going to die. She took out her jagdkommando tri-dagger, which
she had been saving for a special occasion, and stabbed him in the chink of his armor as hard as she could, then
twisted. The man, losing a pint of blood per second, crashed to the floor as his helmet fell off, revealing his true
identity.

It was Ravi, and as he lay there on the floor, he gurgled his last words: “It took him three hours to shoot the golf
ball on GamePigeon.” Chloe got so emotionally depressed that she stabbed Ravi 14 more times, leaving his body
as a tangled mess of flesh and bone. Then, she ran over to Schuyler, kissed his unconscious body, and princess
carried him off into the sunset. ;)

1/23/20
Yaj Jhajhria

Yaj watched from his bedroom window, his computer barking out orders to the soldiers below. He
stepped out from the window, carefully squeezing himself out from the narrow gap between the frame and glass,
and stood on the terracotta tiles, the wind howling in his ears. A plethora of roars shook the roof, and Yaj raised
his right arm to the lucid skies, and closed it.
“Today—today we gather the brave, the intelligent, the noble, and we congregate our peoples to crusade
in the broken lands of the evil.” Yaj spoke, spreading his arms out. The computer pressed the button to start his
majestic twenty øne piløts playlist.
“I have evacuated the surrounding lands for our mighty crusades. Sig Sauer, Colt, Martin Lockheed:
they, the most powerful, WILL SUPPORT OUR WAR!!!” Yaj fired off a clip of 7.62 into the air, and ravens
began to encompass the mighty leader in a swarm of obsidian.
The ravens began to produce an ebony, shiny metal armor on his skin, a helmet with a crimson visor
forming, and the leader of the Valley Army soon was clad in a Raven MKIV combat armor, and clutched a
M249, Acog sight, foregrip, and collapsible stock all locked in.
“Nevermore!”

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 “We go to war for our money, our honor, and our Schuyler, who nobly marched into enemy territory
for his love, Chloe. He sacrificed everything. Everything.”
A small child clutching a M2 Browning Machine gun taller and heavier than he is pipes up.
“Wait, didn’t he just get kidnapped while watching potatoes on TV and playing GamePigeon? He
didn’t march into enemy territory, he was drugged and dragged into enemy territory.”
Yaj paused for a moment.
“Jeffy, give me your Browning. You can go home.”
Jeffy struggled to hoist the gun up and over his head, only to go off balance and fall over, the gun
crashing on his face.
Yaj took another moment. He needed a reality check.
“Well, that works too. Now where were we before we watched a kid break his nose with a machine
gun?”
“Right. Schuyler. His sacrifice. His valiance. His determination to make out with a living chick.”
“He did that.”
“Will you?”
Galvanized into action, the squads smashed the windows of Yaj’s PTMS neighbors’ cars and hotwired
them, a squad of sappers leaping into the back of a pickup truck. From a distance, the artillery had started
booming.
Yaj brought his final Juul to his lips, and breathed in.
“Bruce, Bruce, what have I done?” He sank into his seat, rotating on the swivel.
“Computer, direct forces to east angel three north, position on Exit 31 on Highway No. 5.” Yaj flicked
his mouse in a cloud of smoke, still thinking about how he would have usually asked Bruce to command the
task, and the position of his forces appeared on the minimap. Snipers, clad in ghillie suits, lay prone on the
overhang overlooking the highway. Suddenly, an ear-splitting boom destroyed part of the hill beside the bomb
tank.
Gunfire erupted from the muzzles, flashes of light sparkling in the afternoon sun. Metal fortifications
were erected instantly, automatons whizzing and clanking as they stood up and sprayed bullets everywhere.
Alex Xu stepped up to one of the numerous ammo supply stations scattered across the highway. The
Valley Battalion stretched out for three miles on the highway, alerting the authorities of the war five days in
advance in order to evacuate. Alex gave the quartermaster a thumbs up, and he tossed him a Honeywell gas
mask, along with a VSS. Alex skillfully snapped the clips in with alacrity and strapped the 9mm
armor-penetrating rifle to his back, and lifted his other hand out, demanding for a closer-range weapon.
The quartermaster bounded over a couple of metal cases before opening an enormous plastic case,
containing a streamlined Steyr AUG Para, set with Mira red dots and jungle clips. After retrieving the gun, he
gestured to his squad, resting on a group of plastic costco chairs. Rising, they locked and loaded, the smoke
stacks rising behind them menacingly as the Shrike Elite Platoon moved out.
Weaving through friendly trenches, they trudged past muddy trench collapses and medics from
Anatomy, who waved to them as they increased their pace to a steady jog. Inside his headset, Alex began playing
“Dancing Queen” by ABBA as they arrived in enemy territory. Vaulting over a czech hedgehog, Alex ducked as
tracer rounds screamed over his ears.
Rolling behind a mousetrap vehicle, battered from trials and error, he shot back, the recoil jerking his
elbow back into some barb wire. Almost instantly a medic slid into cover beside him, patching him up as the rest
of his squad dispersed into the surrounding covers. The rattle of LMG fire shook the ground, a squad member
going down as a PTMS berserker decapitated a soldier, while his buddy shotgunned the berserker twice, who fell
backwards, bleeding profusely and dead. Alex pulled the pin on a frag and let loose, sprinting forward and
sliding heroically, dispatching an artillery squad with precise shots. His aimbot swiveled to the right, while he
peered down his sights, waiting for something, or someone, to appear.
Stepping closer, he was knocked back, the air rushing out of his chest. The bastard stepped in for the
kill, when a flying black figure batted him out of the way, crushing him against a wooden post. Theresa, surging

12
with the fierce aura the Anat Army possessed, clad in combat armor and wielding double kusarigamas like toys,
whipped around and sliced him clean in half, his lower torso falling to the ground like a stone.
“Keep going, soldier.” She nodded through a bandana and leapt out of cover, spinning her chain-blades
in frenzied circles, deflecting bullets and taking on melee combat five to one. Stopping her rotation, she swept
her heel up for an upper roundhouse kick, and planted a blow, pivoting on her heel as a bayonet flashed sinisterly
inches from her arm. Continuing, using a dirt mound for push off, Theresa sank her elbow into the solar plexus
of the second individual and finished with a haymaker, and dropped in a blur, sweeping her leg out in a wide arc.
Fumbling for his pistol, the PTMS rebel’s arm was inverted, leaving a long, jagged slash as he was skinned alive.
Theresa followed up with a zigzag laceration and drew a seppuku-style circle in his stomach, when he keeled over
and collapsed in a pool of blood.
Turning back to Alex, she grabbed his arm and hoisted him up. He patted down his tactical vest, dust
drifting to the dry, cracked, ground, hints of crimson fading away on his polyethylene vest surface. He staggered
for a couple steps then groaned, collapsing, vivid colors dancing on the edge of his vision.
“Hey, this isn’t paintball. This is war. We fight to win, not to lose.” Theresa shook his shoulders, and he
rose, dazed, and removed his gas mask, vomiting. Once he finished vomiting, Theresa was confused.
“What are you puking at?” Theresa furrowed her eyebrows as he heaved another load.
Between heaves, he choked out, “That.” Theresa followed his finger to a half-burnt photo of Edison
kissing Jacopo in a pool of spaghetti. Theresa shrugged and stared at the photo.
“Deeply disturbing, but mildly intriguing.” She frowned. Alex finished hurling his dad’s delicious dog
chow mein into the puddle beside him and clutched his rifle again, a little more tightly.
She sighed and remarked, “Well at least you don’t have Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome or something
similar..” and proceeded onwards. Alex marched deeper and deeper into enemy territory, deeper and deeper…

13
 Chapter
Two
And Deeper We Fall

1/25/20
After two continuous days of fighting, the forces have come to a standstill.
There is no victory.
There is no defeat.
And deep, down in this treacherous hole, this abyss,
—deeper we fall.
And deeper we fall.
Without any mangoes.

Yaj was desperate. Bruce was gone. He had no choice but to recruit his former friend who had turned
into an enemy. Tony, former CVMS patriot turned mercenary, was a good warrior. But he still left CVMS for a
reason. On the other hand, Yaj’s mangoes were at stake and he was fighting a losing battle. Tony agrees, but only
for a price of 100 mangoes a day payment. Yaj reluctantly accepts, and Tony goes off to do some shady stuff with
snipers and sub-machine guns. Yaj breathes a sigh of relief and continues going through a list of possible allies to
join his cause. He suddenly feels a pang of sadness for Bruce, his lifetime partner, supporter of mangoes, and the
most loyal person he’d ever met. Now Yaj was determined to win the battle and war, to avenge for all his fallen
friends and allies, especially Bruce.
Tony met up with Josh, who was posted at the top of a tower, sniper ready to fire, ready to pick off any
particularly annoying PTMS fighters. Tony joined him and set his M40A5 next to him, and started a game to see
who could shoot the most PTMS children. One after another, Tony picked off any invader he saw, while Josh
made a particularly good shot and decapitated Enoch with absolutely no remorse. He actually grinned and
smiled while watching his head fall to the ground, with a splat. Tony, not even looking up from his sniper,
chuckled and continued blasting PTMS children with 9mm bullets.
After about 2 minutes, the battlefield grew silent. Every foot of the way was the corpse of a PTMS
fighter. Blood stained the battlefield, as Josh and Tony combined had shot every single bullet they had, adding
up to 40 fatalities. 40 bodies that Tony and Josh didn’t even look back at. Earl Warren had also made a pathetic
attempt at joining up with PTMS forces, but were shot down by Josh and Tony in approximately 2.84 seconds.
Josh stayed up in the tower on lookout, while Tony went down to look for Yaj. And he knew just where to find
him.
Yaj was sitting underneath a small oak tree, grieving over the death of Bruce when Tony walked up to
him. Tony sat down on the side of the fern, waiting in silence. Yaj sniffles, “It’s not fair. All I wanted to do was
sell my mangoes and continue raising CVMS in its glory, and fricking PTMS has to ruin everything,”. This was
the first time he showed the true teenager side of himself, but it was strange how he let go in front of Tony, an
outcast to CVMS. Tony nods his understanding but says nothing. A tacit conversation persisted, mostly with Yaj
sobbing over this war with no end. Finally Tony speaks, “I think I have a way to end this war, it’ll be dangerous
and at times life threatening, but in order for us to win, you’ll have to trust me,”
Yaj looks up at him, surprised, “You mean you think we can win?”
Tony gives a slight nod, looking making sure that no one is around. Yaj stands up and pulls out an M4
from his sack, “Alright, let’s do this” he says.

1/25/20

14
 Larry Wu

Larry sat stock still, playing poker with his bud Austin. They sat perched on top of wooden barrels,
shuffling their cards. Alex and Theresa passed them, chatting about reincarnation, and holding large metal
crates. Austin set the cards down.
“Lunch.” He slipped on his doughboy helmet and laced up his boots, and he walked with Larry to the
frontline mess hall. When they arrived, they grabbed a plastic canteen and retrieved a box from the metal crate,
and propped themselves against a nice steel wall, flipping their helmets back on to shade them from the sun.
Opening the box, they were met with a nice tinfoil package.
“Another falafel sandwich.” Larry bit into the pita and nodded, raising his eyebrows. “It tastes good!”
His eyes lit up. “Even better than Addi!”
Austin agreed, and crunched into the delicious onions. The tingle of the onions, combined with the
savory aftertaste of the falafel, lingered in his mouth, creating a scrumptious, obscure flavor that encompassed his
taste buds.
Reaching back into the box, he brought out another bag, and it held a protein bar and a Costco milk.
Devouring their meal, the two midgets pocketed the protein bars and chugged the milk, finishing their meal.
After lunch, the gunfire began again.
Larry strolled back to the tent to grab his MAC-10, and Austin followed, proudly showing off his
akimbo Uzis. Loading up on nine-millimeter, Larry and Austin hopped on a pickup truck, eagerly waiting to
conquer the PTMS garrison at the Carmel Country overpass.
“Wait, what is that?” Austin peered out into the distance, an earthshaking roar rebounding all around
them. “It’s the third wave.” Larry replied, his expression grim.

1/25/20
Yaj Jhajhria

“Can you fix him?!” Yaj pleaded with Jennifer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we can currently at the moment,” Jennifer apologized as Ada finished
bandaging one of the soldiers and started to walk over. She gestured at the multiple people the Anatomy
department were tending to.
Yaj clung to Bruce’s limp body in despair while Ada looked at him with sympathy.
“He got cheated out of his medal with Emily for Water Quality. Never redeemed it,” she said quietly.
“Ada...” Yaj crumpled to the ground. But the girl could only look at him. She dabbed a small piece of
gauze near Bruce’s chest to absorb some of the blood, but was ineffective as it had dried out already.
“Wait here,” Jennifer instructed, “It’s better to rest from shock right now and take your time to
mourn.” Ada nodded, agreeing.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Though the once bright expression faded from her features when the war
started, her cold eyes never failed to show empathy.
Catching sight of his fellow Battalions, Steven made his way to the group, with Rebecca following. His eyes
narrowed as he noticed the lifeless figure in Yaj’s arms.
“I assume you’re not here for inspection, sir,” Steven remarked, “Got any more of those falafel
sandwiches? We’re running low.”
Yaj shot him an unamused look, and Steven backed away, “We’ve almost got everyone bandaged,” he
informed, changing the subject.
“Yaj,” a quiet voice piped up, Rebecca, “Where is Ravi?” The commander’s eyes widened.
“No..what do you mean?”

15
 “He hasn’t resumed his post after 1st period, sir,” Steven reported, still desperate to have Yaj’s
annoyance fade away by giving him information.
“Has something happened?” Jennifer questioned.
Ada, in deep thought, was only able to speak, “Who knows?”
And Yaj collapsed to the ground, filled with weariness and worry.
“I told him to rest from shock,” Jennifer shook her head.
“Now what are we gonna do about those sandwiches?” Steven said, disappointed, and left to comfort a
crying child. The rest dispersed as well, with one of them constantly checking up on Yaj.
“I don’t know what to do.” Yaj sat, his ego riddled with holes of despair.
Staring ahead, the wind ruffled his jet-black hair, sticky with Bruce’s blood. Enveloped in misery, he
cocked his pistol and closed his mouth over the barrel.
In a quick flash, Jennifer twisted the Sig Sauer out of his mouth, disarming him. With a glance of fury
and anguish, he swept her feet from under her, reloading again, putting it to his mouth-
Jennifer dove, grabbed his middle torso and sent him toppling, tears flying as he struggled for the gun.
Several rounds rocketed off into the sky as the trigger was accidentally pulled.
“Yaj. You can’t do this.” Jennifer cried, as Yaj attempted to brutally beat her with a shawarma blade.
“You have to live!” She shouted, dodging a powerful swipe with the agility she gained from training in the Anat
Army, and reinforcements rushed in, the paratroopers from the 34th Platoon. They restrained Yaj, each one
taking one of his limbs, as he twisted in their grasp, and keeled down on all fours, hugging Bruce’ s twig-like
torso. The paratroopers stood in a circle solemnly, letting him be.

1/25/20
Stephen Xu

Back in the Chevy, Austin and Larry ducked, shrapnel flying, denting the windows. They nervously fired a few
rounds over the wall of the truck bed, empty shells rattling between their legs, still hot from the clip.
Stephen Xu sat in the front, only currently getting a driver’s license. Since the CCA homework load
had been dragging him down, he didn’t get much practice. And that showed as Stephen jerked the steering
wheel left and right rapidly, the truck getting air time and skidding as Stephen turned up the radio on Lose
Yourself.
“You better lose yourself, in the music, the moment…” Stephen ramped up a large hill, 5.56, 7.62, .45
ACP, 44 Magnum, and .308 destroying the sides of the pickup.
“Success is my only mo’fucking option, failure’s not!” Stephen shouted, sending them into a spin.
“Mama love you but this trailer’s got to go, I cannot grow old, in Salem's Lot,” Austin and Larry
chanted along, and the other combat engineers clapped along to the beat, while the truck stopped, the rubber
burning as they halted to an abrupt stop.
“Boys, let’s move.” Stephen gestured, and rigged a Semtex to the lower windshield. Loading an antique
Mauser C96, he kicked open the truck door, going prone. The rest of the platoon hurried off the truck, vaulting
the high walls, and they made a beeline for a marble pillar, which was chipped from artillery and small-arms fire.
Stephen waited until the last moment, then grabbed the collar of a PTMS scout running through the
highway lane. He flipped him around and blasted him twice in the head with a Mauser C96, spinning around to
cripple the scout’s companion, tearing off his mask and cocking him with the butt of the pistol. Before
unloading a clip into his shoulder.
“2’o clock,” Austin remarked, and Larry spun around, the muzzle flashing as the bullets lodged
themselves into a skull. Suddenly, a whirring resonated overhead as two white gliders plunged into a nosedive.

16
The whirring morphed into a scream as the planes dug into the garrison in front of them, and an impossibly
large ball of fire blew them back, the garrison simply disappearing, disintegrating.
Looking back at friendly lines, stood the lone figure of Linguini, clutching a metal launcher.
“Some of these kids are frucking so stoopi’!” He waved, then disappeared from view, the scent of Duco
Cement still hanging in the air.
Stephen advanced into the dead zone, alert. Pity swallowed him as he saw a mangled, tiny, seventh grade
PTMS girl, still dressed in fatigues, holding an AR twice her size, dead, laying on the ground, motionless. Austin
and Larry followed, silent. As they captured the crucial outpost, farther away, an incident happened.

1/25/20
Chloe Kim

Chloe crawled in the unknown, hearing the distance. A taller figure trailed after her.
“I want ketchup chips,” Jeslyn complained loudly in the silence, but Chloe kept silent.
“Me too!” came a voice, which sounded vaguely familiar to the girls. However, it wasn’t someone from
the military. They froze. Could they have been stalked? They hadn’t seen a soul since they met. Who, or what,
could possibly have made that noise? After a whole 20 minutes of lying down in the tall grass and watching for
PTMS soldiers, Chloe decided it would be okay to continue walking.
“Do you think it was sent properly?” She kept asking the hungry girl. An hour before, Chloe, staggering
through her tears, had collapsed on the ground due to the pain of losing Shoeler. However, the traveling Jeslyn
rushed to her aid as soon as she discovered the pathetic being on the ground. Once Chloe recovered, Jeslyn
offered to send a message via Ping Pong Parachute to CVMS and carried it out when Chloe burst, pleading her
to do so.
Currently, the two were wandering through dark alleyways, lost, and unknowing that Yaj had, in fact, received
the message.
“Jeslyn don’t you know the way, you literally sent a parachute to our destination before?”
“That was before. I don’t know where we are now, and besides, lack of food,” Jeslyn coughed, “does not
allow me to think clearly.”
Straightforward. And still hinting she wanted ketchup chips. Chloe groaned.
“If only Shoeler were still here.”
“Will you ever stop bringing him up?” Jeslyn responded, exasperated that she had to deal with a loud
griever and no snacks. Turning away, Jeslyn caught sight of a shadow flitting by one of the paths. Raising a gun
up in caution, she approached the stranger slowly. Darting behind a wall, she prepared to strike, when a familiar
voice spoke first.
“Jeslyn, is that you?” The stranger questioned.
“Emily?” Jeslyn asked incredulously.
“Huh? Oh Emily it is you,” Chloe said, surprised, walking towards them.
The lone girl stepped out from the shadows.
“Just when I thought I was hopeless,” Emily Zheng sighed, relieved, “So what happened to you guys?”
Jeslyn mouthed a silent “NO!” but Chloe already flung herself onto Emily.
“The worst thing,” she sobbed. “My fianceé is DEAD!”
“What?” Emily pushed her away. Jeslyn facepalmed.
Chloe proceeded to describe the events that happened to her, making the other two become
progressively disgusted after each moment she explained. As she kneeled on the ground, Jeslyn asked Emily in
turn, what happened to her.
“I was running from the Falling Bridge.”

17
 “The Falling Bridge?”
“The CVMS Boomilever system. A PTMS raid was conducted there and all I can say is, they had a lot of
sand.”
Jeslyn stepped back, realizing that part of CVMS’s great architectural works was now broken.
“So you all had to flee?”
“Yup, even Gilbert.”
Chloe, who was listening the entire time, widened her eyes in shock.
“They’re ruthless!” She gasped. The air hung heavy with the losses from both people.
“Jeslyn, what about you?” Emily turned to her, expecting more grave news.
“Oh I was just looking for some ketchup chips,” she said nonchalantly and shrugged. “Anyway, how are
we supposed to exit this place?”
“That’s easy, follow the birds,” Jeslyn looked quizzically at the girl, tilting her head to signal the
question of what she meant. Though, as Emily was an Ornithology kid, Jeslyn trusted her.
Without failure, Emily responded, “Yeah, the breed you see flying above you, they’re Homing Pigeons,
the domesticated form of the Rock Dove. They were raised by us in CVMS, and they know their way home. I
was following them before I crossed paths with you.” Chloe perked up again, hopeful. “I also know where to
find ketchup chips.”
Jeslyn looked at Emily, a new light in her eyes, and she nodded.
“Let’s go,” Jeslyn said determinedly, and the three set off to find Angelina the Ketchup Chip Provider.
Also to make a devious plan that was to conquer and trick the PTMS army.

1/25/20
Elliot Liu

“Bruh, shut up! You’re legit throwing. This is like when you asked for the two of spades from Jack twice
in a row,” said Elliot, elbowing Addi in the stomach.
“Chill mate, I just really wanted some ketchup chips,” replied Addi. “Angelina, can I have some?”
“Nope, you ate them all last time,” she replied. The three of them were sitting on the edge of a cliff,
spying on Chloe, Jeslyn, and Emily with binoculars.
And Elliot was third wheeling.
He longed for the day he could find his true love, but now he was only staring sadly into the sunset,
thinking about Erica. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say anything about her, as he had already tried to convince
everyone that he didn’t like Erica, but he did. Speaking about her now would earn him a reputation as a guy who
was too cowardly to admit he liked someone. (To uphold his nonexistent dignity) His constant smile began to
decay into a frown, but he managed to fake a grin. He had been training his face muscles for years, in order to be
able to put up a believable facade.
But that’s a story for another time. (No it’s not)
“Our mission is to keep tabs on them! Stop talking!” Elliot said, raising his voice.
“Dude, why are you always so tense? Loosen up a bit. Stop asking for big joker every time,” said Addi,
laughing. “Anyway, why can’t we just join CVMS’s military? We would just carry our team and call every half
suit. We’d 5-0 PTMS. After all, we did absolutely crush them at Methcounts. Ethan’s, Tony’s, and Michelle’s
bodies have been preserved. Everyone else was lost in the massacre. Ethan tried to carry his team by pre-buzzing,
but he couldn’t do it. RIP PTMS.”
Angelina ignored the dumb conversation Addi and Elliot were having that made it sound like they’re
flirting and she’s the third wheel. Instead, she decided to chow down on the bag of ketchup chips she had
brought. Listening to the girls’ conversation through the hidden microphones on Chloe’s shirt, she suddenly

18
gasped: “NO JESLYN IS COMING AFTER MY KETCHUP CHIPS SHE’S GONNA FIND US
AHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
“Frick!” yelled Addi, bursting to his feet. He looked at Jeslyn just to see her staring right back at him,
and pointing him out to Chloe and Emily. “She’s coming after us!” he screamed, bolting away as fast as he could.
“Bruh, how exactly do you think they’re gonna get up here?” Elliot asked, not moving a muscle. “We’re
like half a mile up.”
Addi froze. He slowly turned around, and walked toward Elliot. Bending down, Addi whispered into
Elliot’s ear, “Hey. I’m trying to be big brain here. Stop being such a #skrub.” Without answering, Elliot shoved
Addi off the cliff.
“Goddamn,” Addi muttered. He removed his cloak to reveal his vertical maneuvering gear (進撃の巨
人 xd), and flew right back up, unsheathing his sword.
*Elliot does surprised pikachu face*
“Do you really want to incur the wrath of the all-mighty ADDI-”
“SHUT UP BOZOS!” ( This is a very timothy line) Angelina finally screamed, taking her very high
quality plastic and foam nunchucks from (we don't speak of that place it is a reminder of bad times) and hitting
them both in the head. While Addi managed to block the hit with his arms, Elliot was still holding his binoculars
and flew right off the edge of the cliff and onto Chloe.
“What in the easy claps and good jokes?” Elliot cursed. His vertical maneuvering gear was tangled for
some reason, and he couldn’t get his cloak off. For some reason, Jeslyn, Chloe, and Emily were trying to scale the
cliff, and Elliot just had the sad luck to crash right into Chloe.
“CHLOE, are you already moving on from Schuyler?” Jeslyn asked, aghast.
“No, ew! You’re not Shoeler! Get away from me!” Chloe yelled, shoving
Elliot away. Fortunately, he managed to untangle his vertical maneuvering gear right before hitting the ground,
and air-tackled the three girls. He brought them up to the cliff, and held them at knifepoint.
“These girls know about our existence. We have to exterminate them,” said Elliot. His resolve to kill
them was evident in both his face and his voice.
“Woah, woah, woah,” said Addi, “You can’t kill your teammates.”
“We’re supposed to be a secret organization of only 8 people, well, 9 if you include Jack, which I don’t,
that nobody knows about! We have futuristic equipment and insane skilz. We can’t just let anyone know who we
are,” yelled Elliot, intelligence points flying from his mouth.
Suddenly, a tap on his shoulder awakened him from the rage he felt. Turning around, he sees the elastic
launch glider that Josh flew in on. But in his turning motion, he nearly decapitated Josh, another loner, but with
his prO-level reflexes, Josh was able to dodge and survived.
“Aw, great,” said Elliot, who wasn’t surprised to see that more people knew about their ‘secret’
organization. While he was distracted, Angelina equipped her own vertical maneuvering gear and flew over the
edge of the cliff, snatching the three lost girls in one swift motion. After they were dumped on the ground,
Chloe, Jeslyn, and Emily all tried to orient themselves, when a bag of ketchup chips suddenly hit them each in
the face. Jeslyn jumped up to thank The Ketchup Chip Provider, tears already blossoming in her eyes, only to
see that Angelina was glaring at the clifftop. To Jeslyn, ketchup chips were like mangoes to Yaj; they meant a lot.
Having them meant the cuts she received from the hunt could heal. It also symbolized her Canadaness.
Josh looked down and saw them, and was not surprised to see that Jeslyn had already eaten half of the
bag. He shook his head in disgust, and was scooped up by Addi as he and Elliot proceeded to fly down and greet
Chloe and Emily. After quickly tying Jeslyn, Emily, Chloe, and Josh up, Elliot brandished his katana, the steel
blade pressing against all four of their throats.
“Why do I recognize these people?” Emily struggled to ask through her restraints.
“Doombo, it's the nerdy Methcounts people,” Jeslyn said through her mouth full of ketchup chips.
“What are you going to do to us?” Chloe asked quietly, tears welling up once again.
Elliot glared straight into her eyes like the meanie he is and pressed harder. “Well, we can’t just let you
wander off with this information you acquired, can we?”

19
 “Are you my phone? Because you’re about to die,” said Angelina, raising her sword and laughing
maniacally, still salty about not getting a new phone because she didn’t make AIME. Hoe ass bitch.
“Wait! We can help!”
Elliott nodded, and began to move his arms so fast that they blurred, and the rest of the group watched
as he began to build an enormous Honda Civic with Lethals. Muttering various mathematical formulas under
his breath, he hoped Erica was watching, and finished, and revved the 2000 dogpower engine, adding flat pieces
to the seats for cushioning.
The gang hopped in the car, bloodying the seats and spilling stuff all over the wheel. Elliott scoffed,
struggling not to laugh as he installed the enormous nitro system. He waited until all the people had piled into
the car, then dropped his Intermediate Algebra textbook on the pedal, and the car rocketed into the air,
corkscrewing twice and falling into a pile of rubble, and a few bodies flew as Elliott had a faint smile that
disappeared in a flash. Staring out into the ocean, Edison and Elliott dreamed about their loves.
Each to their own,
Each to their own.

1/25/20
Josh Jin
An Apache Attack Helicopter is a pretty rare sight.
Manufactured by Boeing and the subject of memes claiming that the creator is neither male not female
but an Apache Attack Helicopter, the AH-64 features a nose-mounted sensor suite for target acquisition and
night vision systems and is armed with a 30 mm (1.18 in) M230 chain gun carried between the main landing
gear, under the aircraft's forward fuselage, and four hardpoints mounted on stub-wing pylons for carrying
armament and stores, typically a mixture of AGM-114 Hellfire missiles and Hydra 70 rocket pods. It is an
American twin-turboshaft attack helicopter with a tailwheel-type landing gear arrangement and a tandem
cockpit for a crew of two.
Well, today, it was carrying three people—Fiona Wang and Joshua Jin were able to fit Danica and her
machine gun underneath their seats. Danica was crying into the metal floor of the flying vessel, struggling to
grasp Bruce’s death. Joshua and Fiona had decided to leave her be, and concentrated on trying to operate the
airborne hunk of machinery. One more thing about the Apache AH-64; it usually can’t be operated by kids that
well. Josh and Fiona were having enough trouble flying the aircraft as it was, so when they needed to land (which
they didn’t really know how to do), they just did a sideways crash through the trees, landing in the California
woods and creating a forest fire. Coughing hard, all three quickly got up, hoisted their machine guns, and began
moving through the woods, marching through the acrid smoke created by the burning jet fuel. They needed to
get away from the scene before Smokey Bear found them.
Today, it was raining. Hard. The forest was muddy and dark. The trio marched through the cold and
past Mihika Tiwari and Ayush Mithbawkar furiously kissing between two trees. All three tried to look away
from the couple’s arms wrapping around each other, passionately moving around each other to the beat of their
hearts. Josh, Fiona and Danica all tried not to think about who they had left behind to come serve their nation.
A ‘roll of thunder’(heheh) brought forth the pouring of the rain, turning the once venerable 99 Ranch
Market into something resembling the Rambo set in 1979, huts built as the water level rose at an alarming rate.
Basically the Vietnam War.
Where world-class laboratories and classrooms once stood lay a shredded complex of military bunkers,
held together by an alarming amount of Flex Tape. The bunkers belonged to PTMS, and were situated at a
strategic point overlooking the rest of the city. Naturally, this was a hotly contested point and control of the area
had flipped many times. The CVMS forces were planning an assault, one that would cement CVMS in the area
and take control of the entirety of Mira Mesa. A few miles south, a group of tanned, scar-filled military generals
huddled over their bowls of pho. A map lay on the table, covered with red and black ink. A waiter, with the
company name “MSG House” glanced at them, but quickly looked away after Amogh scowled at her. It had

20
been a long time since he had human contact, as his hermitage at Uranus had been in complete isolation. He still
struggled to make complete sentences.
“Flex- too strong.” Amogh struggled.
“I agree, Flex Tape even works underwater. It stops leaks too fast. What do we do?” asked Alex.
The group stared at their food, which had not been touched.
Suddenly, the sound of machine guns firing aroused them from their conversation. They walk to the
base, where cameras stationed see…. nothing. Suddenly, the tent bursts open and Josh, Danica and Fiona barge
in, instantly killing everyone with those nice machine guns that Hans the overlord gave them. People in other
tents seemed to notice that random PTMS children would just fall to the ground, not noticing that Tony was
also with them, using his deadshot marksman skills to eliminate any wanderers. Yaj stood wistfully on top of one
of the buildings, and thought about Bruce, and how proud he would be to see that his little Yajeepoo had grown
up and was now directing the strongest army in the nation.
Later that day, after the trio and Tony had successfully eliminated every PTMS child in a 20-mile radius,
they set up camp and chowed down on the falafel sandwiches. These were the ones which they sneaked off base
camp and hoarded in a disclosed location known only to them. As they talked excitedly about the highlights and
best kills of the day, they all realized their jobs had not been done and they called their allies to help protect their
newly gained hot spot at 99 Ranch Market.

1/25/20
Emily Reid

“What are we doing here?” Emily Reid sighed. She, Veronica, and Naomika were stuck in a position of
inspecting falafel sandwiches for either Coronavirus, or any damaging chemicals PTMS snuck in somehow for
the purpose of food poisoning CVMS. It was a mundane job, but they worked efficiently. There was not much
to do now as the sandwich supply was slowly draining out, so to pass the time, well, they just stood around.
Veronica nodded in response to Emily tiredly, and Naomika’s head drooped down.
“Do you have any more sandwiches at the moment?” Aanya appeared beside them, clearly in need of
food for the injured. But all the three girls could do was shake their heads sadly.
“Sorry,” they said in unison, as the worried seventh grader darted away.
Until a light for them shone.
After examining and passing out a few milks, one of their only items to look at during their shift, Ada
walked up to them briskly.
“Hey, you guys? I need you to stop working, it’s an important task,” she informed them. Suddenly the
girls perked up curiously, wondering what their assignment was.
“You three need to be a minor search party for Ravi. Yaj has been stressing out about the absent people,
and he’s no exception,” Ada grimaced slightly, thinking about how difficult the boy had been for her to handle.
The three girls nodded.
“What about food inspection?” Emily asked.
“Don’t worry, that post will be taken up by Ethan. You know where the alleyways are? We received a
parachute message from Jeslyn saying Chloe and Schuyler ran into Ravi there, but we don’t know what
happened.” Emily, Veronica, and Naomika nodded once more, gathered some supplies, and headed towards the
direction they were ordered to go. Ada watched them leave, before turning back.
“With everyone being gone, CVMS’s defenses are crumbling.”

***

21
 Hours of searching passed, but the trio, unfortunately, could not find anything. They had run through
several paths, even split up for a while, only to come back together. Emily, being responsible, kept track of
navigation in order to make sure the group would not get lost or go through one unsuccessful path multiple
times.
“This place is like a maze!” Naomika exclaimed, until spotting something in the ground. “Wait!”
Veronica looked at a smudged footprint imprinted on the ground, “This looks like a lead.” Both
Naomika and Emily agreed, as they ran off in the direction the footprints led towards.
What they discovered was horrifying. As the footprints went on, they started to fade, only to be
replaced by spatters of red. When they looked further, they were met with the sight of Ravi’s mangled body in a
dry pool of blood. A few feet away from the lifeless being was Schuyler’s own, bruised from an apparent conflict.
“Both are dead.”
Realization struck like lightning, and the three kneeled to the floor, staring at the two valiant soldiers
who were taken down.
“What happened?” Naomika whispered softly.
“I don’t know, but we should run tests. Maybe the Heredity kids can find DNA samples of a plausible
killer,” Emily suggested.
Veronica looked back at them, “Let’s bring them back to base.”
With that, the three hoisted the two figures, hauling and dragging them back as they made their way to exit the
dark alleys in the direction of CVMS. Little did they know the truth of the events that occured.

22
 Chapter
Three
Out of Time
1/26/20
CVMS troops have been preparing.
Preparing something big.
And they need all the help they can get.
But their preparations aren’t enough
The final battle is closer than they think.
And they’re running out of time

1/26/20
Anthony Cheng

It was 15 minutes past 1 in the morning. Tony and Yaj had been hiking through neighborhoods, passing
Highway 56, heading towards PTMS Headquarters. Yaj had wept the entire walk, occasionally squeaking
“Bruce” then continuing to cry. Tony had to drag him away from Bruce's body where Yaj had been kneeling,
staring distantly into Bruce’s closed eyes.
Tony was silent the whole time, clutching 2 M60s and hauling a sack full of ammunition, handguns,
and snipers. He abruptly halted, so Yaj suddenly crashed into him and tumbled into the fine dirt. Tony dropped
the machine guns and pulled out an AR-15. Swiveling around, he launched a bullet right over Yaj’s head. A
sudden plunk rang out and a cry of pain pierced the eerie night. Tony’s expression grew serious.
“Get up” he whispered to Yaj, tossing him an M4.
“What’s happening?” Yaj asked, growing worried.
“Some PTMS kids found us. We’re surrounded,” Tony answered, scanning the bushes, “I see at least
12, but they still don’t see us, so we have some time. We need to run. Now.”
With that, he started jogging while keeping low. Yaj follows suit. The pair heard muffled voices behind
them and bullets whizzed past. Tony stopped sneaking and started sprinting. Yaj did the same. The two ran all
the way up onto the hill and ducked behind a tree. Voices were heard below as fighters started to appear. Tony
set up an M60 silently as the PTMS kids were still confused. Without warning, bullets rained down on the
enemy. One by one, the soldiers fell until not a single soul was left standing. Tony then packed up the machine
gun and was about to continue the journey when he felt the cold, steel barrel of a pistol pressed into the back of
his head.
A trigger was pulled. A head exploded.
Tony remained standing.
“I-I absolutely will n-not watch another o-one of my f-friends d-die.” Yaj stuttered, eyes open in a
maniacal fashion. He lowered his M4, his knuckles still white with strain. Tony looked back at Yaj. Yaj looked
back.
With great strain, Tony uttered, “Thank you,” but continued, “We’re still surrounded by a group of
maniacs.” Punctually, a ring of 12 people with the insignia of a snarling wolves on their helmet appeared and an
Apache Attack Helicopter flew overhead, shining its spotlight into the duo’s eyes. Yaj and Tony looked around
themselves, noticing that there was no escape.
“You’re not going anywhere,” a PTMS kid snarled as he loaded ammunition into his AR. Tony
glanceed at Yaj, whose eyes were as round as a planet. They dropped their weapons but before they could raise

23
their arms up in surrender, a tiny, orange blast of light suddenly appeared behind the group. Tony was the only
one to notice it, and how it was coming from the general direction of CVMS.
A sudden realization struck Tony as he shouted upto the helicopter pilot, “Hey! Want to hear a joke?”
“Shut up!” barked a squeaky, pubescent voice from inside the helicopter.
“What do you call-”
“SHUT UP.” The sound of guns reloading briefly filled the night and the pilot pointed an M21 at
Tony’s head.
The light grew into the silhouette of a missile. It seemed as if a figure was riding on top.
“-a helicopter-” The downdraft of the rotors blew dust onto Yaj’s M4, covering it with a brown film.
“-that gets hit by a cruise missile?” The pilot stared into the eyes of Alex, who was in a hazmat suit,
riding 4,000 mph on a cruise missile straight at the helicopter.
“GET DOWN!” Alex shouted to Tony and Yaj.
The helicopter exploded into a brilliant ball of flame and shrapnel. Bits of metal and electronics hit the
PTMS soldiers, impaling all but one, who was crushed by the engine. Tony and Yaj remained unscathed. Alex
floated down in a plastic parachute, courtesy of Kevin’s Ping Pong Parachute skillz.
“Well someone was cruisin’ for a bruisin’,” Alex declared, brushing dust off himself.
“I’m pretty confused as to how you got a cruise missile.” Yaj stated.
“Hi pretty confused as to how you got a cruise missile, I’m Alex!” Alex replied quickly.
Yaj and Tony groaned, but couldn’t help but smile at the attempt to relieve sadness.
“Thanks,” Tony said to his friend. Alex nodded his approval and declared, “We’re gonna need to steal a
car. A car with a CD player, preferably.”
“Why?” Yaj wondered.
“The CD player?” Alex held out an ABBA Gold album, checked out from the CV Public Library. He
noticed Yaj’s displeased look. “Oh, the car. We’re going to Mira Mesa.”

1/26/20
Josh Jin

The door was knocked 3 minutes ago. But there was no answer. Josh stood impatiently outside and
knocked again. He was alone after being seperated from the rest of his group by the methcounts people. He
didn’t really mind this too much, as he was alive and well. But he wanted to be together with his friends once
again. He had also received orders to gather as many CVMS troops as possible, so here he was knocking on
Emily’s door.
Josh saw the light was on which was making the situation even more irritating. Finally, he couldn’t take
it.
“Emily, I know you're in there!” he yells. He hears a groan and the door unlocks.
“What do you want?” she asks, obviously annoyed.
“We need you,” Josh answers, “CVMS is fighting a losing war, but we think we found a way to win. But
we can’t do it without you.” Emily just stares at Josh in shock. The silence was broken with sudden gunfire in
the distance. Josh turns in that direction to find Chloe sprinting down the alley. Bullets pierced the air as she
sprinted for her life. Josh reloaded his twin SPP-1’s and jogs towards Chloe. Like dominoes, PTMS fighters
tumble to the ground and soon enough, everything is silent once again. Josh walks back up to Emily’s house
only to find Chloe lying helplessly on the ground.

24
 “Is she okay?” Josh asks, worried.
“Her energy levels are very low, she’ll need to rest,” Emily answers as she hands her a bottle of Gatorade
Zero and carries her back to base. Bullets are heard once again and Josh runs toward the gunfire, spotting
another army of PTMS children. Josh curses underneath his breath,
“Kevin Bacon, how many fighters do they even have?”
He ducks behind a trash can, occasionally popping out to fire. But no matter how many soldiers he
picks off, more just seem to come out. Hope seems lost when suddenly the familiar sound of a machine gun
rings out. Josh looks up to find Emily firing the ancient MG-42. Chloe holds a couple grenades and tosses one
out the window. A shockwave of debris and bodies fly in all random directions. When the smoke clears, no
fighters are left. The trio waited a little just to make sure before entering the house.
“I’ve had enough of this war. The embargo was one thing, but Schuyler is another,” Emily says
forcefully. “They didn’t let us go for nothing.”
“Great,” Josh replies, “I’ll need you two to come with me, it’s time this ends once and for all.”

***

Josh’s sack was so heavy from all the weapons he was holding. But he couldn’t let his friends carry it for
him. After all, they were still heartbroken from Schyuler’s death. Chloe had slept the entire car ride and was only
starting to wake. As the three rounded a corner, they noticed their destination. An empty, abandoned
supermarket was what it looked like on the outside. Moss grew on the crumbling walls and there was smoke and
blood everywhere. 99 Ranch Market was a disaster, but it was all CVMS had. Josh enters the base to find Alex,
Tony and Yaj laying down on hammocks. Alex and Yaj were both asleep but Tony noticed Josh’s entrance. He
gets up and greets his friend, eventually noticing Emily and Chloe. Tony smiles at the sight of the deadly duo,
confident that PTMS wouldn’t stand a chance. Tony whisper’s something to Josh and he nods. Josh then points
Emily and Chloe to their barracks. The three enter the sector and Josh explains,
“We’re still waiting for the rest of our forces, once everyone is here, we’ll raid PTMS. Go get some rest,
it’ll be a while.”
After about an hour, someone shakes Emily awake. Emily opens her eyes to find Angelina above her,
confirming that the methcounts people have finally joined their side.
“Time to get up,” she says. Emily then wakes Chloe and they exit the sector, only to find the place
buzzing with activity. As the three of them walked towards the entrance, Emily recognized some people. Danica
(tears on her face, still unable to take Bruce’s death), Jeslyn, Ada, and everyone else are gathered here to take
PTMS down once and for all. But it wouldn’t be easy. They would have to spend hours preparing, planning. An
invasion like this would require you to either kill your enemy or kill you. It was a life or death situation. With a
limited amount of people, there wasn’t much they could do. Unfortunately, there were many tasks that needed
to be done. If CVMS wasn’t able to secure this victory, the entire nation could be eradicated and PTMS would
reign over the lands.
A meeting was held for those on the special task force needed for the mission to succeed. The group
consisted of the most important people: Yaj, Alex, Hans, Chloe, Emily, Tony, Josh, Jeslyn, and Danica. The
atmosphere in the room was grim, and everyone was tense. They knew what they had to do. The battle was
about to begin, and the war was about to end…

25
26
Intermission
I
Random Stuff

Tips for making insane scrambled eggs (edison’s way of cheating on Angelina)
-don't forget the butter or creme fraiche

27
-don't overseason or season too late or early
-stir constantly
-remove the pan/pot from the heat at times
-high heat
-use a spatula
-take eggs off the heat slightly before they are done, they'll cook in residual heat
GOOD LUCK MAKING UR EGGS

Writer Alex and Syllable EditorHans’ Refined Territory of Fine Arts

(FArts)

Roses are red, we’re flying in rain

I’m not a pilot, can you fly this plane Apache Attack AH-64 Helicopter?

Roses are red, TikTok is lame, My Mortis is tilted, I only feel pain

Ogres are onions, not like parfait

If you are a bunker, then I’m a grenade

Poetry’s fun, much better than math

But math I must do, because of Webb’s wrath

Kazoo’s are the best, they’re easy to play

The day after Mon. is always Tuesday

Phil Swift has arrived, Flex Tape’s brawn will be checked

To unveil its power, this boat will bisect

We try to escape, the fury unlike

It’s talons too strong, the horrible Shrike
A hero emerges, from a small patch of clover,
Our glorious savior, the great Snowy Plover!
It’s powerful legs, it’s magnificent beak
Can avenge any ally, no matter how weak
It hops toward the shrike, with a whole lot of cunning,
The plover’s sheer cuteness sends the awful Shrike running!

Thanks to the plover who saved the day, it’s Brawl Stars and Minecraft that I will now play.
- Alex

The Shrike turns back, facing the plover

It will not fall for its cute but weak cover.
Flying down it knows the plover is no match
For the Shrike’s powerful and deadly snatch.
The plover scrambles, previous bravado gone
It’s beak no longer magnificent next to the Shrike’s deadly one.
It struggles against the Shrike’s powerful grasp

28
But in the end it’s no match for a Shrike set on the task
Of defeating the bird who thought it was able
To beat the powerful, strong, and capable.
Let this be a lesson for all those plovers
Next time stay away and hide in your clovers.
-Emily

Byan Rai the chef seasons his filet mignon evenly on all sides. The fillet is shaped like a right
cylinder with radius cm and height cm. After cooking, he lies the filet on its side and randomly
selects two places to cut it such that the resulting pieces are all right cylinders. If Byan randomly selects one
of these pieces to eat, what percent of its surface area is expected to be seasoned?

Lil Rizzo is having difficulty with preparing his pre-performance meal. The Barilla pasta cooks at
1000000 degrees, while his Bunsen Burner only provides 10000 degrees of heat. He goes on
ReallyItalianDishes.com and finds out that the cooking time is cubed whenever the temperature is divided
by 10. Using the cardboard cooking time label, when he sees that the cooking time is 130.2 minutes with a
temperature of 10^ Negative 236. How long will the pasta take to cook?

A Lasting
Conflict
29
 Sector
II
Mira Mesa

𝛀
Lucky Seafood Pho Shop
9:11 PM

30
The smell of beef broth enveloped the ramshackle diner in a heavenly aroma. Almost empty, the restaurant
housed only a few customers, all slim Asian teenagers, who sat down scattered, forcing the waiters to dash
around in different directions.

“I’ll have P4, the flank, brisket, and tripe combo, along with a Coke.” The teenager staring at the Sunday Night
Football game muttered, not even taking his eyes off the cheap LG TV. The waiter silently nodded, taking the
order and moving back into the kitchen.

Enoch slowly took off his hood, revealing a scar running from his cheek to his jugular, and his cold eyes staring
straight ahead.

The news network broadcasted the battle of Highway 56 live, showing the CVMS line slowly receding back
towards the Bay Club. Enoch sneered, taking a Valium packet from his Supreme shirt and downing it in one
gulp.

“Why hasn’t the pho arrived?” Enoch screamed impatiently, and flipped the table, glass shattering. Shit, he
thought. The reaction to the Valium is getting-

His eyes bloodshot, he rummaged in his pants for his Tec-9 and drew it, his hands shaking, his drugs spilling
onto the grimy floor, red fringing the edges of his vision. By the counter, the waiters ducked, fearing for their
lives. From the edge of the room, Edison leaned against the wall, concealing his face with a top hat. He slowly
slipped a gun into his hand, making sure that his actions were as precise and concealed as possible. Elliott and
Angelina both went around him to attack from another angle, but he couldn’t risk any chance of being caught.

Suddenly spinning around, Edison leapt over the numerous tables, vaulting them with the agility of a monkey.
As he dropped to the ground, gunshots punctured the cheap seats around him, bullets shooting past his knees.
Performing a swift turn, Edison spun the lubricated barrel on his Colt Python, loading six rounds and firing
them off in succession with practiced ease. A bullet hit Enoch in the bicep and he staggered backwards, still in
his drug-induced state.

“You motherf*cker!” He screamed, spraying bullets all around the room. Jacopo rushed past the crouching
Elliott, tackling Enoch and slamming him into the wall, past the low marble counter, and into the women’s
bathroom. He wrestled Enoch’s gun from his hands with superhuman strength and pressed the smoking barrel
against his forehead. He pulled the cold, hard trigger, and out came an uncooked spaghetti noodle, impaling
Enoch’s miniscule cranium in a clean shot.

Jacopo looked at the pistol, confused, as he peered in the barrels. Shockingly, the 10mm rounds had somehow
turned to hardened linguini and penne. Bewildered, Jacopo further examined the pistol, using his Methcounts
mind to solve this difficult casework problem. He employed the use of the powerful Simson line theorem as well
as the versatile Budu’s ice cream lemma to derive the possible phenomena that could have caused this defect. As
Jacopo quickly located all of the cyclic quadrilaterals in the intersections of the lines and circles, Edison sheathed
his Colt Python and removed his hat. Things were progressing nicely.

Outside, however, it was another story.

Gunfire erupted from various firearms and bullets ripped apart the environment as Molotov cocktails lit up the
night. Frightened barbers fled the scene with their scissors and razors as their shops were engulfed in blazing
flames, the customers following, some with half-shaved heads.

31
The second battle of the Mango Wars, the battle of Mira Mesa, had begun.
It began as a mere gang fight, but had developed into something far more serious and unpredictable,
transforming from a skirmish into a siege.

Soon, the armies of the Valley Battalion had joined the fight in Mira Mesa, arriving in their parents’ cars with
N95 face masks and liability forms.
“Charge, my soldiers!” yelled Yaj, voice cracking every 2 syllables. He rushed forward into the fray, armed with a
PKP, spraying bullets into the night. Nivi, Ashmita, and Karen snuck up to the PTMS infantry in camo
clothing and silently slit their throats with serrated daggers. Emily Park led a squad of infantry who marched in a
line, spraying bullets, not caring who or what they hit.

Karen did not mourn for her brother, as he had already died at least three times in the past two fanfictions. She
tried her best to sponsor the Valley Battalion along with other important individuals from CCA and Torrey
Pines.

Unfortunately, they didn’t get far as the pools of blood got larger and larger, revealing their position. They
retreated into the Lucky Seafood Pho Shop, where they were surprised to see Edison and Jacopo discussing war
plans. Edison tipped his top hat before diving out a window and fired perfectly aimed bullets into the chests of 3
PTMS soldiers. He landed softly with a roll and ran toward the battle without making a noise.

Jacopo shrugged before biting into his Barilla penne chews once again. He pocketed Enoch’s gun and
nonchalantly strolled out the front door, whistling. He was immediately met by gunfire, but used his n00b-like
insane reflexes to dodge and weave through the maze of bullets. As he did, he carefully placed shots from
Enoch’s gun into the heads of the PTMS soldiers. While he was ending careers, he spun a gigantic spaghetti
naginata around his pinky and was wielding a spaghetti pistol, spraying and praying, but not really praying. He
left a trail of dried spaghetti behind him as he waltzed through the gunfire, whistling “Stayin’ Alive” by Bee
Gees.

After he had killed all of the surrounding soldiers, he decided to fortnite dance on them and play a quick game
of Showdown. After easily securing 1st with his Power 10 Shelly, he followed Edison into the battle. The CVMS
army, which had been slowly losing ground due to their lack of numbers and friendly fire, gained renewed
morale at the sight of their elite force.

“Let’s get ‘em, boys!” Yaj yelled enthusiastically, dropping out of a tree and slicing Tony Qu’s throat.

“Dang, bruh, how are you so OP?” Tony asked as he toppled backward, blood spraying from his neck.

Edison tipped his bulletproof top hat once again, deflecting several sniper shots, and unloaded a few rounds into
certain windows in the surrounding buildings. Screams resonated from the buildings as the PTMS snipers got
360 no-scoped.

“Frick!” Ethan Song cussed. “How’d they locate our snipers?” He peered at the battleground through his
binoculars and made out a couple of PTMS soldiers running for their lives as Jacopo launched spaghetti rockets
at them.

“What the hell?” he asked. “Why are you running? WHY ARE YOU RUNNING? You have to uphold the
honor of PTMS!” He shook his head in disapproval. Then again, he was sheltering himself in an armored dome
on a skyscraper half a mile away, but that was just a precautionary measure. He set up his PGM Hécate II and

32
looked through the scope. Using his insane pre-buzzing skills, he fired at people before he even saw them, and
still managed to hit them.

However, Edison and Jacopo were two of the people he could not kill. Jacopo split his bullet cleanly in two with
a piece of dried fettuccine, and Edison protected himself with his bulletproof top hat. Smiling, Edison turned
toward Ethan and held up his scoresheet from Mathcounts Chapter, enraging Ethan, and raised his revolver.
Ethan was seething. He was being disrespected by someone in a lower math class than he was. He wouldn’t stand
for this. He put his eye to the scope once again, just to see a bullet right in front of his eye. It slammed through
the glass in the scope and pierced Ethan’s eye, exiting out the back of his head.

Nivi, Ashmita, and Karen had just been watching in awe as Edison and Jacopo demonstrated their godlike skills.
Suddenly, a group of PTMS infantry dashed out from a cluster of bushes and started blasting from their
shotguns. Nivi courageously protected Ashmita and Karen with her body, taking the brunt of the barrage. She
spat out blood and fell to her knees. She had been hit twice: once in the back and once in her right calf. Her
worried friends quickly carried her to the safe house.

All the while, Tony and Joshua were stationed at the top of Ranch 99, using withering godlike skills with snipers
to eliminate any particularly annoying PTMS children. When they ran out of kids to shoot, they jumped down
and Josh and Tony spun and loaded their twin dragon Glock 20s and ran to the battlefield.

When they arrived, they saw that Jacopo and Edison had already taken care of the majority of the PTMS
children, and were now flaming random Mortis players on Jacopo's iPhone 12.

"Ay, it's Josh and Tony! How's life?" said Edison, waving.

***

Meanwhile, students in the S building of Miramar College sat in misery, locked to their teacher’s desk. Their
firearms lay to the side, just out of reach, while Hans and dead Bruce sat bound to each other, just like the
Luzhou field trip. Hans, peering down at Bruce’s wounds, began to bite through the Solinco Hyper-G tennis
string that bound them. Bruce collapsed on the floor, his pulse zero.

Hans, looking for his .950, knelt on the ground in Mrs. Stiles’ child’s pose as a sonic boom swept through the
room, Jacopo’s whistling of “Stayin’ Alive,” reviving Bruce like a charm. Hans stared down in wonder as Bruce
spasmed twice, and opened his brown, chick magnet eyes. He stood, brushing off his North County Aquatics
hoodie and retrieving his Chinese book. Bruce frowned, staring at his Credit 3 workbook, and then up at Hans,
who was frantically typing on his cheap-ass chromebook.
“What is this? I thought I was dead on the highway!” Bruce angrily remarked, mimicking his tone when
Hans tried to help Bruce with his white-turned black socks, and just hardened his socks with cheap chinese
detergent.
Hans shook his head, and zipped his Chromebook back into his bag.
“It’s you.” Hans stared at him.
“Meh, it’s better being dead.” Bruce laughed
Hans couldn’t remember if Bruce was this morbid before.
He shook himself and grabbed a pencil, twirled it twice, then headed out the door. Hans followed him,
struggling to carry his Gustav Gun. The barrel ripped through the ceiling like paper, the 1350 tons weighing him
down.

33
Accidentally firing it, the gun crashed back into the S building and destroyed Seattle.
Bruce and Hans ran and ran, across the field, across the lot, and east to Mira Mesa. An explosion
boomed from the H building in the distance, where they were running to. A jettisoned windowsill crashed into
Hans' leg, tearing a gash into his calf.
"Aughh!" Hans yelled as he dropped his Chinese knockoff Chromebook. "That was five dollars!" Soon,
despite Hans' injured leg, Hans and Bruce arrived at the fish pond in front of 99 Ranch Market. Alex, Tony, and
Yaj were already there, feeding steroids to the fish.
"What are you doing?" asked Bruce.
"Feeding fish steroids, duh."
“Why?” asks Hans.
"This guy," Alex replied while pointing to a figure covered in coprolites, "he's going to turn them into
Xiphactinus.”
Hans and Bruce stared at each other.
"Ok yeah but what about the steroids?"
"It lets them fly and breathe air. I got them from this duck who kept asking this poor man for grapes."
The figure in coprolites walked up and muttered, “Stand back.” Before raising his hands and closing his
eyes. In a poof, all the fish disappeared. Suddenly, 20-30 feet long monster fish appear, making everyone jump.
The figure turned around and Hans recognized the small round face and the thin rectangular glasses of John.
"JOHN!!!" Hans screamed as he rushed towards John, but was immediately repelled by the fossilized
feces covering John's body.
"What's that about?" Hans asked, gesturing to John's garb.
“It’s just my thing. It gives me my ultimate powers,” John replied, “Now let's go fight this war and win.
But first, I want to go to Ranch 99 and buy some greasy chinese takeout. I’m starving.”
"Hi starving, I'm Alex!”
John facepalmed and then walked into the market. John gave a confused look to the rest of the kids, but
continued onwards through the sliding glass doors. They looked back, confused.
As soon as they entered, Hans muttered, "Holy s-" before remembering the presence of his Chinese
teacher, Fan Feifei. The inside of Ranch 99 had been completely transformed into a batcave-like headquarters.
"Wait why are you here?" Alex asked Fan Feifei, who was also his Chinese teacher.
“Shuo zhong wen!" He replied.
The groups gathered as many supplies as possible, grabbing everything they could find from shotguns
to grenades and ninja stars. In the center of the store was a rack, holding the four golden weapons of Ninjago.
Josh quickly claimed the Dragon Sword, experimenting slicing and accidentally melting several statues, while
Alex grabbed the shurikens of ice, careful not to cut his fingers on the 0 degrees kelvin blades. They could slice
through concrete like butter and freeze anything at the thrower's will. Tony nabbed the Scythe as well as the
nunchucks for Yaj. Hans picked an automatic rocket launcher, and influenced by his glider coach Linguini, he
took a B2 Spirit stealth bomber as well as Duck cement for broken appliances. Fan Feifei grabbed an Integrated
Chinese Level 3 Book.
Finally, everything was prepared. The group walked out holding their specialized weapons and exited
the modified 99 Ranch store. The crew hopped into their stolen Honda Civic and drove off to face the mighty
army of PTMS.
Upon arrival, Hans stared anxiously at a fortified watchtower. Inside, a group of snipers stood guard.
Quickly, Hans mounted and armed his full-auto rocket launcher. Within seconds, a barrage of 12 rockets
reduced the watchtower to scrap. Unfortunately, the ear-shattering noise of 12 rockets being fired within
seconds alerted the PTMS forces of the squad's location. Hans, already in his bomber, reached altitudes of
100,000 feet. Alex unclipped his shurikens. Tony gripped his scythe. Josh brandished his sword. Fan Feifei read
words from his chinese book. They were ready.

34
Crazy Cretaceous
Creatures

35
 Chapter
IV

William Ren was a mild mannered boy. His thin glasses and tall stature led others to often perceive him
as an imposing, intellectual person. But in reality, the only thing he wanted in life was to play games and enjoy
life. Today was one of those days where he could do neither. It is important to note that William Ren… is from
Pacific Trails.
The ground shook as a B2 Spirit unloaded bombs from the dark, cold sky. William Ren covered his
head and ran. Explosions behind him knocked him off balance and he tumbled to the ground, the delicate glass
doors of the Bay Club inches in front of him. The PTMS forces had been able to chase the CVMS troops all the
way back to their home field, but it didn’t feel like enemy territory. Bodies lay stone cold on the concrete parking
lot, most of them with the green and gold bobcat on their uniforms. William quickly got back on his feet and
entered the clubhouse as bullets rained down on him. He quickly flipped a ping pong table onto its side and
sheltered himself behind it. William reloaded his AK and pulled out a couple grenades, ready to throw them at
any second. All of a sudden, three CVMS soldiers burst in through a thin layer of drywall and insulation, each
holding a golden weapon.
“Wherever you are come out now! You have no chance of survival!” the one with the sword called. He
then ordered his friends to search the area. William took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rose from his hiding
spot.
“Hands up or I’ll pull the pin!” William yelled back.
The three enemy troops looked toward him, then to each other. Each one dropped their weapon on the
ground and raised their hands in the air. But their expression changed to a look of audacity. Then one of the

36
fighters whispered, “Now”. William looked up and saw a CVMS Science Olympiad banner falling onto him,
and as he is wrapped in the plastic, he felt the puncture and hiss of a tranquilizer dart on his right shoulder.
As he slowly drifted unconscious, he muttered, “I just wanted to play Brawl Stars”. Then everything
went black.

***

William awoke with a groan. His head throbbed and his limbs were numb. He tried to raise his head but found
the act impossible, as he couldn’t move his body and he was shackled onto a cold, steel table. A dark, masked
figure strolled up to him. Its breath reeked of McDonalds. William noticed that they had long, dark hair. It’s eyes
were a cold brown hue. His spine rattled with terror.
“Sir, can you tell me what you were doing?” a sassy voice emitted from under the cloak. William was
quite taken aback by the disparity between the figure’s voice and appearance. Still, the dual P90s it carried spoke
volumes.
“I was fighting. What was I supposed to do… sir?” William reluctantly replied.
“DON’T CALL ME SIR, okay?” the voice grew harsher.
“Are you affiliated with the Pacific Trails military force?” the figure pressed on.
The figure’s voice suddenly took on a strained British accent. William tried to cock his head in
bewilderment, but the solid metal plates embedded into his skull would not allow it. “I’ll ask again, are you
affiliated with the Pacific Trails military force?” it repeated, more forcefully this time.
William thought no, but blurted out, “Yes.” His mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.
The figure pulled over a black, leather chair and sat down. It then asked,
“Tell me PTMS’ plan. I need to know everything, or else this goes through your skull, Understand?” it
questioned while gesturing towards an aggressively VSCO Hydroflask.
It had been modified to include a white-hot spike at the end.
“I’m not even a soldier! I know nothing!” William cried, eyes fixated on the horrifying water bottle.
The figure sighed a sarcastic sigh and repeated the question. William had the same answer. The tension
between them steadily rose like the … connection between Liz and Luke. Eventually, the figure got up and paced
around the room. It quietly muttered,
“I don’t have time for this. I have Ornithology fact sheets to do. Regionals is in a few weeks. I can’t keep
interrogating this kid, no matter how fun it may be. Guess I’ll just have to get rid of him.” William, who heard
the figure talking to itself, grew even more confused and terrified than he already was. Like most people, he did
not want to die, and definitely not today. There were two Mega Boxes waiting for him in the Brawl Stars shop.
The figure swiftly pulled out a silver Macbook covered with stickers and typed into Google: “how to get
rid of a kid, fast.” The search results all involved non-violent methods. So, the figure switched to Bing. The
results for the same query all involved bloody, brutal methods of killing people, including guillotine, gallows,
guns, gardening hoses, golf clubs, Gordon Ramsay, and other scary things starting with the letter G. The figure
chuckled. This was exactly what it was looking for. Scrolling through the many torture devices and murder
terminology, the figure’s chuckling morphed into a terrifying laugh. The laugh exploded into an outburst of
psychotic senioritis, the figure’s mind turning mad, ecstatic with promises of violence. The figure, regaining its
composure, reached for a brass figurine of Tiktaalik. The metallic fishapod’s tiny head was flicked off by the
figure’s thumb, revealing a button. Upon being pressed, the button opened a door and the interrogation table
was sent plummeting through into the room it led to, the figure following close after.
The new room resembled the interior of a Loggerhead Shrike’s gizzard: hot, humid, and filled with the
bones of the deceased. Along one of the walls lay a vast rack of various torture devices, including all of the
aforementioned G weapons, except Gordon Ramsay. He stood in the corner, growling something about steak
sauce. The room also exhibited many unique skeletons, including human ones, PTMS ones, reptilian ones, and
oddly, CCA ones. There was an empty glass case labeled “Amogh Chatervedi” framed on the wall. One could

37
only assume who was next on it’s hit list. A lone crimson banner hung weakly by the CCA flag, and on it,
scrabbled in black, messy, letters, “AsB” was proudly displayed. Thus, the interrogation proceeded.
Suddenly, a loud sound was heard down in the first room. The figure swerved around only to find
everything the same as it was before. It ambled away from William when another figure with massive muscles
and a black bowl cut jumped out from behind the door. His chiseled jaw and steely expression demanded
respect. His rough goatee and massive scar across his left eye further supported his imposing countenance. In the
middle of his black, spy suit was a hand drawn photo of a wolf devouring a bobcat. The figure’s swift reflexes
allowed it to catch the man’s powerful arm and slam it down onto the floor with a sickening crack.
The man shouted in a thick German accent, “YOU DARE TOUCH MY ARM PUNY MORTAL!
YOU HAVE MADE A FATAL MISTAKE!” before tearing his arm out of the figure’s grip.
“Villiam!” The Man shouted into the other room. The figure tackled the man, but to no avail, as The
Man was simply too massive. The figure loaded its P90s, but not before The man smashed apart the
interrogation table, freeing William. A maelstrom of bullets was shot at The Man. He simply stood and smiled,
bullets bouncing off of him as he revealed his fourteen golden teeth. The figure had no choice and pulled out a
club shaped like the tail of an Ankylosaurus, loaded with concentrated Brown Recluse venom. The Man, who
didn’t understand what it was, raised his fist, ready to strike.
In a flash, the figure swung the club into The Man’s arms. The Man screamed and fell to the ground.
He tried to regain his footing, but wasn’t quick enough. The figure fired a stream of bullets right into the center
of the scar, which added more anguish to The Man. Before he could deliver a punch, the figure whipped its leg
into The Man’s jaw, which knocked him out cold.
The Figure then got a closer look at the identity of this absolute unit of a man, and discovered that it
was a genetically enhanced teenager. The tattoo on his chest was temporary. However, the figure quickly noticed
that its prisoner, William, was gone. The figure cursed,
"Fukuiraptor!"
It was hoping to extract information about PTMS' devious plans, and now that opportunity was lost.
The figure sighed and pulled off its hood. Underneath was the withered, pale face of the CVMS Fossils coach.
She bit into a Big Mac, and was immediately enveloped in artificially flavored bliss. The Man groaned. Catherine,
feeling much better now that her stomach was full, decided to only kick The Man's head. He would remain
there until next month, when he would get up from the ruins and go home to practice piano.

The four boys continued on from the Bay Club in their stolen automobile back to Miramar College, which was
starting to be sieged by the rest of the CVMS forces. Hans, who had begun to take a particular liking to his full
automatic rocket launcher, temporarily mounted his launcher on the roof of the car, and began shooting at
parked cars with impeccable accuracy, considering the fact that they were barreling down the road at 120 mph.
Within a few minutes, the squad arrived at the hazy campus, ready to fight.
A group of 12 soldiers met them at the campus gate, each armed with an AK-47. Tony thrusted the tip
of his scythe into the earth, opening up a fissure, causing three of the soldiers to fall through the crust and into
the mantle. Alex threw a salvo of shurikens at the soldiers and slicing two of them clean in half, spilling out
icy-cold entrails. The third soldier was frozen to the ground, unable to even shift his gaze.
Josh, seeing his opportunity, blasted a 15m diameter fireball at the trapped PTMS soldier, momentarily
freeing him before melting him into a steamy puddle. Two more soldiers fell victim to Josh's blade, seared brain
tissue flying in multiple directions. Finally, Hans blasted the remaining soldiers with so many rockets that the
only thing that wasn't vaporized was one soldier's rusty lighter, which Hans gladly pocketed. A fighter plane
started to swoop down onto them, ready to strafe them with machine gun fire. Yaj swung his nunchucks and
shot a lightning bolt at the plane, disabling its electronics and crashing the plane. The pilot, scrambling for
buttons, ejected, and fell victim to Han's rocket launcher.

38
 Josh viewed the landscape up ahead. What once was a lush green field was now a swampy mudflat
spotted with barricades and barbed wire. As they trudged down the muddy swampland, they kept a close
lookout for any more surprise attacks coming from above and below. The squad quickly filed into classroom
S5-204 in the S5 Building and regrouped.
“Where's all the fighting? Tony said. “I mean, I don’t see any PTMS troops.”
A bomb exploded nearby, right on cue. Debris flew in every direction as shrapnel pierced the delicate
glass windows.
“Well, that answers your question,” Hans replied sarcastically as he armed his rocket launcher, prepared
to head back outside. Alex, whose wrist was getting tired from holding his shurikens, pulls a 50 cal sniper rifle
out of his backpack, capable of shooting any projectile through 14 feet of steel. Josh waved his sword around and
grabbed his trusty twin Beretta 92s. Yaj, who had already shocked himself multiple times with his nunchucks,
switched to a more old-school but still deadly modified mace with the head shaped like a mango. He whipped it
around, testing the balance, accidentally smashing a table and two chairs into the wall. Tony packed his scythe
and pulled out an M-4 from his pack. He took out a couple rounds of 5.56x45mm bullets and loaded his rifle.
After everyone had adjusted to their weapons and were ready to fight, they zip lined down and would
have made an epic entrance if there were any people around to see it. They then set up a camp to provide
nourishment for the incoming army of hungry CVMS fighters, complete with Costco pizza, bottled water, hand
sanitizer, and some falafel sandwiches they found in a trash can.
After the encampment had been established for an hour and soldiers were beginning to trickle
in, a dark figure appeared on the horizon. When Alex looked closer with his military-grade binoculars,
he saw a flying platform, with none other than the traitorous Archit standing on top, holding a
mysterious Erlenmeyer flask. Inside the flask was some sort of green, bubbling liquid. Josh guessed that
it was green apple flavored. Yaj guessed that it was mango. Hans, who did not want to deal with apples
or anything apple-flavored, launched a barrage of rockets at the platform. The camp grew silent, as
explosions bombarded the platform, but Archit remained unharmed. Hans stared in disbelief, his
mouth wide enough to fit 20 squirrels. Not that he would, anyway.
As he came closer, everyone quietly took their stations and spots as they waited for the incoming enemy.
When he was close enough for them to hear him, Archit shouted,
“I have joined PTMS in their endeavors and I will publicly annou-”
Every single person simultaneously fired their weapons at Archit who was starting to get annoyed. He
simply waved his fingers and all the bullets harmlessly fell to the ground. Everyone murmured worries as Archit
just laughed. He proceeded to raise a gray, tainted flag, revealing a wolf, bloodthirsty for victory. Its eyes were
blood red and its fur gray like the Moon. Then an entire military force of PTMS soldiers arose from the bushes,
some loaded with snipers, others loaded with rifles. The rest held deadly grenades and rocket launchers. The
CVMS force gaped in awe, but quickly regained themselves. Only Yaj stood expressionless, his dark eyebrows
slowly narrowing, eyes full of hate and anger. For once, things were so silent, Yaj could hear himself blinking. He
knew what he had to do. It was time.
Breaking the wall of silence he screamed, “MY FELLOW SOLDIERS. IT IS TIME. LET'S BRING
JUSTICE TO THIS LAND, AND CRUSH THE PTMS INFIDELS ONCE AND FOR ALL!”
A roar of thunderous screams came from the CVMS side as everyone charged towards the enemy
frontlines, sending an echo through the cold, still air. Leading the crusade was Yaj, Tony, Josh, and Alex. As they
charged, they unsheathed their weapons and, suddenly, stopped to talk to Archit. Alex shouted,
“Hi Archit, how is CCA going?”
Archit was quite taken aback by Alex’s sudden casualness and replied,
“What?”
“How is CCA going?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Oh, fine? That’s good to hear. It’s nice being an eighth grader back here at CVMS.”

39
 Archit still had no clue what was happening. Eventually, after Tony spotted Bruce running in the
distance towards them, quickly connecting the dots, he too joined the conversation.
“Heyyy buddy!”
“Who even are you?” Archit asked. Tony looked offended. He had to try his best not to shoot Archit.
“What did you have for breakfast today?” Alex pressed further.
“Pancakes.”
“With syrup or anything?”
“Just pancakes.”
“Why nothing on them?”
“Why are you questioning my choices in breakfast food? I should be drilling holes into your head right
now!”
“Why can’t I question your choices in breakfast food?”
Archit furrowed his eyebrows. “Because it’s rude.”
Alex flashed a sarcastic surprised expression. “I am so sorry!”
“Can you stop?” Alex noticed that he was provoking Archit a little too much. Archit elaborated, “I
don’t want to talk about my breakfast anymore.”
“Okay, how was lunch then?”
“Seriously why are you talking to me and not shooting me?”
“Nug is gun backwards.” Alex shrugged, struggling to hide his laughter. Bruce was caught in some
barbed wire. More time had to be bought.
Tony quickly asked, “How is Amogh?”
Archit had not heard from Amogh in a while, and he was genuinely curious as to the whereabouts of
his brother.
“I don’t know, have you heard about him?”
“I think he went to live with some old hermit on Uranus.”
“An old hermit? I thought he went alone.”
“No, no, it was with an old hermit. I think his name was Joe or something.”
“Joe?”
“Joe MAMA!” Tony fell to the ground, crying with laughter. Everyone else stared at him, except for
Archit, who was about to blow up with anger.
“I swear I’m going to take each and every one of you and-”
Archit suddenly keeled forward, his eyes wide with terror. Crimson streams of blood dripped down his
head as he fell forward and flopped onto the ground with a final crack. The back of his head was cratered with
bullet holes.
The team looked at Bruce, his mechanical eye (gained from a fight against a rabid hyena) whizzing
wildly as he flashed a warm smile and walked forward to meet the rest of the army. Yaj was so overflowed with
happiness that he almost recreated the Schloe moment as he tackled Bruce and hugged him tightly. He was so
ecstatic to see his longtime buddy again that he let all his feelings of grief and loss flow out of him like a waterfall
onto Bruce’s shoulders. Even one PTMS soldier murmured, “Aww,” but was promptly punched in the soldier by
five of his fellow soldiers. Josh stood with his eyes locked on Bruce and Yaj and couldn’t help but smile. But this
ended in an instant when Hans suddenly screamed,
“HEADS UP! BOOMER INCOMING!”
Alex, Josh and Tony quickly scanned the skies to find a frag grenade flying dead at them. They quickly
jumped out of the way and when the smoke cleared, they found Fan Feifei, clutching a smaller person, John.
The chinese teacher’s body had blocked the explosion and shrapnel, saving John’s life. He lay on his back, blood
dripping from his mouth.
“Ni yao bei《黄鹤楼》,ke yi kao shi de shi hou yong fen ” He croaked, struggling to raise the corners of
his mouth and smile. Tony, Alex, Josh, Bruce, John, and Hans all stood and brushed the dirt off themselves, only
to find the dust turn to tears. John crouched into a fetal position as they watched their beloved chinese teacher

40
die. Tony kneeled down on his knees, sniffling and crying, his tears, moistening the cracked mud. Alex and Josh
had to use all their might to hold it together, but found it nearly impossible. They too broke down and sobbed,
except Hans, who was claiming the money mentioned in his will.
After Fan Fei Fei breathed his final breath, his corpse began to hum and glow golden. Eventually, the
light emitted from his body grew so bright that everyone had to look away.
“Did someone flashbang us?” some idiotic PTMS soldier yelled.
“Shush! You’re ruining the moment!” Alex replied.
Slowly, the light died down, but where his body used to lie, was a pile of cherry blossoms, delicate and
pink. An ethereal wind blew them across the sky, carrying the petals to a place far, far away. The only thing left to
remember him was his Chinese book. It would be treasured for the rest of eternity, however long eternity would
be.

Though most of the CVMS Valley Battalions had been present for the Mira Mesa battle, there were still a few
still a few stragglers who had been venturing on their own for a while, unknowing of the starting of the major
fights.
Linguini was atop a giant glider, steering the top-tier flying contraption. Next to him was Theresa,
whose kusarigama slightly floated outwards with the faint wind. He found his student tirelessly trekking
through the cracked ground and dusty wind after she left Alex when they found people, and naturally offered
her a lift. Together, they soared the skies in search of the other CVMS kids.
The scent of Duco Cement was extremely strong there.
“I think major battles are starting, Coach,” Theresa observed a brilliant light flash near the Mira Mesa
area, followed by minuscule specks of pink.
Linguini nodded in agreement, but diverted, requesting, “Herrp me with opening this bottre, I see a
keed down thele.” The Anat army leader uncapped a container of Acetone, and tipped some to the ground, in
order to get the attention of Magnus and Bekzhan, who were traveling on their own as well. Linguini explained
that the glider they were using was too perfect to need Acetone to help readjust some parts, and therefore they
might as well sacrifice a little.
Once a stream of liquid splattered next to the two walking students, Bekzhan looked up to check if it
was raining, which he thought would be a strange phenomenon considering the location they were in at the
moment. His eyes were met with the sight of a large glider descending towards them.
“Woah,” he exclaimed.
Catching a glimpse of the people onboard, Magnus yelled excitedly, “COACH!!”
Linguini grinned and motioned them to get on, which they did so.
“Hi dum’ kids! We’le heading over to potential wal site light now, and pick up whoever we find on the
way.”
“Thanks,” Magnus replied.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Linguini pulled out a bowl and bit into the substance inside, leaving
Theresa to steer.
“Solly, was hungly and no lice or farraferr sandwiches, so I got some this,” the Elastic Launched Glider
coach explained, laughing, revealing the bowl filled with Linguine pasta, and continued eating.
“Um, i-is this cannibalism?” Magnus asked awkwardly, thinking of Hans’s nickname for the man.
Linguini shot him a look of disapproval and turned back. Magnus went silent.
After a while, Bekzhan exclaimed, “Wait! I-I-I-I think I see-see-see some people!”
Everyone craned their necks to look downwards, where they caught sight of three dots of green, marking the
Science Olympiad hoodie of CVMS’s.
At once, the glider circled downwards.

41
 The amount of relief Emily, Veronica, and Naomika felt when they saw the flying machine coming
towards them to assist them. Panting, they tried to move faster towards the smooth plane, lugging Ravi and
Schuyler’s weight along with them.
“Let’s help you with that,” Bekzhan and Magnus smiled at them. Faces brightening, the three on the
ground’s lips curved upwards slightly in response too.
Emily, Veronica, and Naomika, as well as the bodies of Ravi and Schuyler, had joined those on the
glider.
“So rikery battre we ale heading towalds light now since it seems to me rike arr of the CVMS folces
shourd be there,” Linguini repeated for the new passengers, and they nodded in return.
“Yeah, I think we saw a sign of it with this blinding light that flashed by,” Naomika remarked.
“Yep, because it will take a while to get there, assuming they do not move somewhere else when we
reach, we should arrive at a very convenient time,” Linguini continued.
“OK, then let’s keep going,” Veronica answered.

***

After a long time of thinking to himself, Linguini finally murmured, “We need someone varuable to our team.”
The man then dialed a number, “Mia?” He asked, “Yeah, we need you, come to the southeln end of the arreys.”
“Was that Mia?” Theresa asked for clarification. Linguini nodded a ‘yes’. Magnus, too, nodded with
approval. The high school girl, who showed talent for build events, would be a good asset to the CVMS squad.
During the time of their flight, the loner crew had additionally collected Jamie and Nicole, the WIDI
coaches, who had screamed to the top of their lungs to gain the attention of the flying group so they could also
board, which, surprisingly was effective, and got on too. They proved well in navigation, as they had experience
in describing where parts of WIDI models were located in previous Science Olympiad years, so they could also
explain where signs of conflicting nations where coming from as well.
The team picked up Mia, who was waiting near the alleyway area where they had found Emily,
Veronica, and Naomika.
“Hey guys,” she greeted, “Ready to fight this war?”
Bekzhan nodded enthusiastically, Theresa thought of how she planned to strike down the PTMS army
with her kusarigama in silence, Magnus and Emily pondered the question, Linguini, Jamie, and Nicole urged
them to respond ‘yes’, and Veronica and Naomika shook their heads tiredly, but still raised their hands in cheer
for CVMS.
Mia laughed at their mixed reaction, fell quiet, and focused on their destination, where an explosion was
heard.
The group was close.
They would make a dramatic entrance.
And then they would soon find out CVMS switched locations.

Mira Mesa was a mess.

The first police cars, wailing, drove into the smoldering town, the ebony asphalt steaming like Ling Ling
potstickers, transparent smoke rising into the night sky. Ling Ling himself lay dead on the smoldering Earth,
Brett and Eddy crying over their corpse. On the right, Lucky Seafood, with the windows blown out and a
plethora of various Vietnamese snacks lay scattered across the dirty aisles, black plastic chips covering the floor in
a layer of shards. Beside it, the barber shop lay dormant, the steel door torn off its hinges and crushed into a wad.
In the middle of the east parking lot, a Chevy pickup burned on its side, .45 shells dousing the remains of the
brave vehicle. Tim Ky’s noodle hut was absolutely decimated by an enormous piece of penne, about thirty feet

42
in diameter, with jagged ridges, stretching into the sky for 500 feet. Big Lots was looted, a pile of cast-iron
shopping carts decorating the few snacks still in their freezers, which of course did not work.
Across the street, MSG House and Szechuan Taste, as well as 5 for 10 T-Shirts, were all blown off their
very foundation. The roofs and tables would be found seven months later in Utqiagvik, Alaska, about a
thousand miles from the North Pole. Edison’s order of fifty anime ahegao shirts to drool to was also found in a
poutine diner in Toronto six days later, the inappropriate patterns on the shirt banned because of indecent
exposure and inappropriate content.
Barnes and Nobles’ was obliterated, only the manga books remaining. There appeared to be a looting
where PTMS thugs took Nerf guns from the store. A lone CVMS Starbucks Coffee worker knelt on an
upheaved chair, bandaging one of the elderly people who had been in the store when the violence began.
Gen, the buffet barbecue next door, was stripped of all meat, when PTMS soldiers stormed the poor
restaurant and took all the meat.
InChin had been blown to smithereens, the only evidence that it had ever existed being a medium-sized
puddle of momo sauce.
Disregarding imagery because the Mango Wars was giving Hans sleep issues, he hastily moved on to the
next location.

Methcounts Pr0s
Location: ????????

In a secluded bunker in the middle of nowhere, half-suits were being called left and right.

“I have the 2 and 7, A R S A has the 3, 4, and 5, and Naysan has the 6,” said Jeck, using his big brain to
call. As the cards were passed forward, Jeck stood up and started default dancing on the other team, composed of
Mr. Grun, Taiddie, and Byan. As Byan began his expected essay of how Jeck looked at his cards by setting up an
arrangement of mirrors around the room, Mr. Grun covered his head, knowing that an onslaught of girls trying
to touch his hair could come at any time. Taiddie was simply laughing at his teammates’ stupidity.

“Aren’t Edison and Jacopo fighting for their lives right now? Why the hell are we playing fish? We
should be helping them out. Also, I shouldn’t have given Jeslyn that hoodie the other day,” said Naysan, shaking
his head. He threw the rest of his cards to the floor, as Jeck had just carried him to a 5-0 sweep. The whole time,
Naysan had just been asking for the medium joker, which for some reason nobody had.

“Nah, fam,” replied A R S A. “We still have a ton of other people available. Aidisheng, ED, Edie, Special
Ed, Addi, Aidi, Lil Rizzo, Erica’s Wife, Lil Liu, Lil Larry, and Lil Lucas are all ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Wait, actually, Addi is with Elliot and Angelina right now. There’s still 11 people available.” He dealt the cards
once again, and somehow started with every card in high hearts. He immediately called, and Byan began his
second essay.

“There’s also Kevin, Amrutha, and Rachel as well, if you want to count them,” commented Mr. Grun.
However, it was pretty clear that they weren’t gonna do anything. Their whereabouts were unknown, and it
didn’t seem like they were gonna say anything anytime soon.

“Bruh, Edison is gonna be just fine. He’s gonna go pew pew pew and clap all the PTMS n00bs,” said
Jeck, attempting to act out what he thought Edison was gonna do. “And I’m sure Jacopo’s gonna be fine too.
His gucci crocs will save the day. Oh, and his vape bottle. We can’t forget the vape bottle.” As he said that, an

43
extremely dense bottle cap smashed through the wall right behind him and exited through the opposite wall. A
trail of smoke followed.

The whole group was silent. Somehow, the legendary vape bottle had made its way to their bunker and
was now giving them a message. The smoke slowly began changing shape until it resembled an “ok” sign, letting
the group know that Edison and Jacopo were in tip-top shape. Taiddie waved away the smoke with his jack of
hearts, which Jeck immediately took. Byan began his third essay.

However, the next card Jeck asked for was somewhat peculiar; he asked for the medium joker. As
Taiddie handed it over, the other 4 players sat and stared. The appearance of a medium joker could only mean
one thing: trouble. Jeck cleared his throat.

“Ahem! Well, it seems like trouble is brewing, so let’s go. Elliott or Angelina are probably in trouble,”
Jack yelled. He brushed his nonexistent hair and flipped his glasses upside down, activating ambidextrous mode.
Eric covered his hair, Naysan summoned his army of girlfriends, Taiddie flipped a coin, A R S A own goaled, and
Byan typed “@ED: are scores out?”

And Mira Mesa lay in ruin, while the clash between the two armies continued to another plane.

44
The Rising Storm
Sector
III
Anza-
Borrego
State
Park

45
The world was silent.
Only the sun spoke, casting its glorious rays of ultraviolet radiation at one of the few places on Earth
(mostly) untouched by human beings. This was the frontier, the final unconquered place for the two rivaling
giants to clash over. The relentless heat of the scorching sand could instantly sear the skin off of any body part
that brushed against it. That was during the day.
During night, the boiling temperatures took a U-turn, dropping to below freezing. Your spit would
freeze before it even left your lips. If you left your hand out in the frigid air for five minutes, it would have to be
amputated. This sudden shift in temperature only took a few minutes.
This was Anza-Borrego.
The tall cacti stood in stark contrast with the sub-zero temperatures (These were specially adapted
cacti). Their shadows loomed over the desert, casting eerie darkness over the dry land. Above them, the
Oxford-blue sky was dotted with blazing constellations and stars. The supermoon hung in the murky, blue sky,
giving the desert a melancholy air of solidarity. A faint whistling danced over the smooth sand dunes, the gentle
shuffling of owls and nocturnal desert animals. A lizard scuttled somewhere beneath the ocean of sand, adding
yet another instrument to the symphony of the desert. A lone figure, clad with a heavy parka and combat boots,
trudged through the desert. The lizard fell victim to the man's heavy shoes. Its delicate skull shattered under the
steel toe of his boot. He pulled back his long, silky hair, speckled with crystals of ice. His eyepatch covered his
empty, chilled eye socket. He breath emitted in the form of a silver cloud of mist. A golden revolver hung from
his belt.
He was Hands, a clone of the great CVMS warrior Hans. He was genetically engineered to be stronger,
faster, smarter, and have a full head of luscious hair. He was deployed by PTMS to seek and kill Hans.
Hans, unaware of this new growing threat to his safety, lounged in a hammock overlooking San Diego
bay. At some point, Hans guessed, the waters must have been crystal clear and a pleasure to look at. Now, it was
filled with the corpses of fallen soldiers, staining the polluted waters a dark mahogany brown. He smiled,
noticing a PTMS soldier with a sizable hole in his head floating in the waters. He must have died in the fight last
week. His neck was beginning to rot. A brown mushroom grew out of his esophagus. It looked delicious. Hans,
intrigued by this botanical discovery, leapt from his hammock and dived into the sea of bodies. More crawling
than swimming, Hans crept nearer to the intriguing fungus. It looked even tastier up close.
“Were you going to eat that Autumn Skullcap?” Alex asked, holding a can of Sprite. Hans quickly
moved away, suddenly realizing the awful fate he just avoided.
“Um... No.” Hans was a terrible liar.
“Eat that and the amatoxins will make your brain useless.” Hans swiftly scrambled out of the water.
“Anyways,” Alex continued, “PTMS forces were spotted heading towards Anza Borrego Springs. I have
an inkling of what they might be doing there. Are you coming with me?” Hans looked back longingly at his
hammock.
“Ehh. Maybe later.”

From the depths of his memory, a moment recurred, the memory floating to the top of his
consciousness with a pop.
His mind blossomed, expanding in all directions, both light and dark, his descriptive skills and writing
ability peaking, while the jet-black tendrils of his temptation and his curiosity led him astray, off the path and
into the woods. He floated to a smoky forest. All he could see was his flaws. All he could see was-
Hans appeared in Anza-Borrego, and fell to his knees and vomited. The realization that the previous
dream was not real. He clambered to the edge of a cliff and looked down, vertigo seizing as he fell, screaming as
he plummeted to his final destination. Hands, his evil clone, followed, his eye glassy with evil intent. Without
further ado, the clone wrapped his revolver around Hans’s knee, shattering it with an enormous blow. Hans
sweated as his kneecap exploded, bone marrow spurting out of the schism starting to run down his leg.
I’m going to die.

46
Hans closed his eyes, vision losing focus and melting into a black and white vision, the plants and trees colorless
as thick blood oozed out. Blood loss rendered him powerless. With his remaining strength, he rolled to his right.
Blazing with a reddish glow, Hans rose, his eyes glowing with a black light. His Lenovo Chromebook appeared
in his right hand. Across from him, the PTMS army appeared, teleported by the clone.
There was silence.
“The pen is mightier than the sword.” Hans whispered to himself, and began to type. An array of
firearms spanned out in a half circle, the moon rising behind him as his friends began to appear, all of them
clutching wicked weapons. Someone began to play the Avengers Endgame music.
“Turn it off, we haven’t even gotten to the final battle,” Hans scoffed, and the music stopped. The wide,
vast sand valley was packed full.
“CHAR-”
Beep beep beep beep
Hans struggled to his feet, eyes wide, as Bruce sitting next to him awoke, bewildered, raising his rolled
up NCA jacket like a whip, waiting for an enemy to attack. Bruised and tired, the rest of the muddied soldiers
rose. The ruins of Q.T. Pot served as their Mira mesa base where soldiers rested . Mira Mesa, as well as Miramar
College, was decimated, and the remains of the town lay smoldering, barely anything still standing.
The few homeless survivors were treated well, fed, and given a cot. CVMS sappers swept the roads for
stray bullet casings, the cannons rolled away. A mini airstrip was constructed in the middle of the road,
Lockheed Martins and Apaches droning away, carrying supplies and cargo to different places. The few intact cars
in the town were parked neatly, reserving them for high ranking officials like Bruce, Tony, or Yaj. Swelteringly
hot, the barracks constructed in the ruins of Q.T. Pot was reserved for squadron leaders, generals, and majors.
CVMS and Mathcounts and Scioly elites did pushups in a sandpit, doing various exercises. Hans ran out of the
Barracks with heatstroke and collapsed, getting a nasty stomach scrape as he paid it no heed, continuing to run
toward the Q.T. Pot kitchen, where supplies were stored
“Woah there,” someone calmly whispered.
Hans looked up to find Sean standing above him, his feather hat tied across his chest like a cape. Sean
wiped sweat off his brow and extended his hand, “Need a hand, comrade?”
Hans accepted but struggled to get on his feet as Sean was too small to lift him up. Eventually, Sean was
able to pull his teammate up and handed him his water. Hans, who was dying of heat, chugged the entire bottle
in a couple of seconds. Unsurprised, Sean proceeded to tear off a couple pieces of bread, smiled, and handed
them to Hans.
“Communism?”
Hans first nibbled on the bread, then, finding himself starving, devoured it like a wild animal. After he
had regained his strength, he and Sean walked to the kitchen. Hans threw the door open and tumbled inside.
Sean slowly followed as Hans rolled bandage tape around his ineffective leg, grimacing in pain. Sean, only just
noticing the cut, rummaged through cabinets and drawers looking for disinfecting alcohol. Finally he found it
and dabbed the liquid onto his bloody gash, causing Hans shut his eyes in pain. What felt like eternity was
quickly over as Sean slowly got up, and returned the alcohol back to its original location. Meanwhile Hans
checked out his injury and thanked Sean. The two appeared back into the main room where they found Yaj and
Bruce commemorating. Hans whispered to Yaj who immediately stood up, and yelled,
“Everyone, I have an announcement. Pack your bags. We’re going to Anza Borrego.”

This is it. This is how I die. Not from war or being shot, but from heatstroke. Fricking heatstroke, Tony thought as
he and the rest of his small group hiked through sweltering desert sand. CVMS was on the move. Again. This
time, it was to a state park in the middle of nowhere. In order to keep a low profile, Hans ordered everyone to
travel in small groups, so people would believe it was just a group of hikers, instead of a massive army preparing
for war. Each group was provided a stolen car to make the journey to Anza Borrego. But automobiles could only

47
go as far as the terrain would allow it. They were forced to walk the rest of the way. And it was torture. It was a
broiling 110 degrees and the black camo suits were making it even worse. The fine sand whipped in the warm,
dry wind whistling past the troops’ ears. The Sun baked the land, withering plants to dehydration.
Tony groaned in the heat, his shirt soaked in perspiration, which was also quickly evaporating. Strapped
to him was a lightweight Camelbak, however, it felt like the weight of the sky, crushing his spine, his fellow
soldiers felt the same way. But they had to keep moving. The small party rounded a hill where the stopped and
flopped on the soft, scorching sand. Only Tony remained standing, panting heavily, as he pulled out binoculars
and raised them to his eyes. What he saw made the hairs on his skin jump. The CVMS base was only a short
distance away.
“Let's keep moving everyone, we’re almost there,” Tony encouraged his broken team. They raised their
heads up at him, squinting. Slowly, people got to their feet, regained consciousness, and continued their journey
through the wasteland. Hans thought, what could PTMS possibly do here? What was Alex thinking of?
When they arrived, everyone collectively collapsed, physically incapable of moving a single muscle, each
one of them gasping for air. The front door then swung open, and 20 more CVMS troops rushed in, sighing in
anguish, all collapsing. One of them was Jennifer, who noticed Tony but was too tired to say anything. She just
stood up, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it, nearly choking from the torrent of water rushing down her
throat. Soon, all the CVMS warriors trickled inside their tents, struggling to stay conscious. As they collected
underneath the sanctuary of shade, they drank and eventually regained strength after Tony gave them bits of
falafel sandwiches. Jennifer and Albert pitched in and helped man the battle stations, ready for a sudden attack
by PTMS. Suddenly, a blurry shape appears on the crest of a sand dune, scrambled by heat mirages. As he grew
closer, the friendly face of Alex appeared, much less friendly than usual.
“Guess what?” he blurted, panting with exhaustion. He stumbled off his horse as he rushed to the
camps to get water.
“What?” Bekzhan asked.
“First of all, you’re a butt. Second of all, there’s this crazy guy that wants to kill Hans.” Hans stared at
Alex in shock. “He looks exactly like you, but more buff, and with sick hair. He also has an eyepatch for some
reason; I think it’s just because he wants to look cool.”
“Is he a pirate?” Albert asked.
“Maybe, I don’t know.” Alex suggested. He looked to Hans, who seemed concerned. Hans asked,
“Why me?” No one had an answer to that.
“Why he wants to is not the question. The real question is, how are we going to stop him? We all know
this is the dirty work of PTMS, and as evidenced by Regionals, they know their stuff,” Josh replied angrily.
“Hey, Regionals was unfair. They scammed Yaj so hard on EXPD,” Alex retorted, recalling Yaj’s anger
and disappointment.
“We know this because they acted like they knew all along that they were going to beat us at
Souplantation,” Josh mused.
As the soldiers bantered about the botched Regionals tournament, three fighter jets screamed overhead.
Everyone looked up, not expecting to be found this early. They had only set up camp for a few minutes. Jennifer
and Albert, who were already at the anti-aircraft guns, began poking holes in the blue sky. The fighters remained
intact. They came down with another round, firing missiles straight into the encampment. Albert shot down a
plane. Cheering as the aircraft plunged into a sand dune, suffocating the pilot.
"Nice shot!" Jennifer complimented. Albert blushed, his rosy cheeks contrasting his pale, sleepless eyes.
“Uhh.. Thanks!” Albert replied, instantly losing any social skills he may have had before. The two
remaining planes flew back for yet another attack. Their machine guns began to pump out bullets, shredding the
tents. Bekzhan saw the last falafel sandwich about to get peppered-not with seasoning, but with bullets. He
lunged for the sandwich, knowing very well that he may die. Indeed, he did die, body covered with bullet holes,
dripping blood onto the delicious falafel. The two planes flew away, content with killing one soldier. The CVMS
soldiers stood in a circle around Bekzhan, who was still reaching towards the sandwich. Gently, Sean picked up
the food and placed it in Bekzhan’s mouth, whispering,

48
 “Food is good.” Gratefully, Bekzhan chewed and closed his eyes.They would never open again. His final
resting place was six feet beneath a solemn saguaro cactus.
Arriving at the final sand dune before they reached the valley, it was slowly getting dark, and the
temperatures would soon drop faster than Yaj’s science grade.
The congregation of CVMS soldiers stopped, leaning their rifles and firearms against a wooden crate,
and rested. Coleman tents were erected as Yaj sat in a folding chair, the canvas flapping in the chilly wind,
glancing off his back. This time, he didn’t bother to wear his CCA-sponsored Raven MK-VII exoskeleton suit,
due to the reduced risk of enemy contact, but he still kept it in his Ogio backpack, waiting for the next attack.
Suddenly, a dark figure came over the dune along the horizon. It’s horse sprayed sand behind itself,
faintly resembling a cowboy. The CVMS troops heard the faint clip-clop of the stallion’s hooves get louder and
louder as the figure neared. Hans loaded his rocket launcher and aimed it at the figure, only to be stopped by the
sound of a stampede. He looked across the horizon to see a whirlwind of sand form.
One by one, soldiers on horseback rose from the sunset, each and every one of them carrying a modified
AK-47 ready to blow their enemy to bits. Dust devils whipped up as winds howled around the two contesting
forces. Faces were scratched by the abrasive gales.
Everyone covered their heads as gale force winds blew grit into their mouths and ears, forcing them to
cover their faces with bandanas. All the soldiers on horseback stopped, only one kept riding forward. It was
Hands. He eventually reached the CVMS base. When the soldier reached Albert, who stood in front, he asked,
“Where is the one called Hans?” Hands’ voice was like steel on gravel. Rough and scratchy. Hans stared
pleadingly at Albert, terrified. Albert replied,
“Hans? I don’t know any Hans.”
Hands grabbed Albert by the throat and squeezed. Albert’s face instantly flushed red. His legs kicked in
futility.
“If no one tells me, I will crush this man’s esophagus! Then I will kill each and every one of you.”
The camp stood in silence, watching Albert’s oxygen supply slowly dwindle.
“Hans is here!” Jennifer cried, unable to watch Albert suffocate. She seemed shocked at her own words
and her eyes widened in alarm.
“Really, is he?” Hands dropped Albert, who immediately fell to his knees and gasped, coughing up a
substantial amount of blood. Red marks glared on his neck. Albert looked at Jennifer and mouthed,
“No.”
Hands jumped off his horse and pulled out a revolver, slowly walking towards Hans,
“Are you really the man named Hans? You look a lot like me. ‘Cause if you’re not, I will gladly send this
bullet through your brain,”
Hans gulped, his face pale in fear. He glared at Jennifer who covered her face, sobbing and trembling.
Hans regained his composure and declared,
“Yes.”
As soon as he did so, he drew his revolver and fired, sending a bullet in the direction of Hands, barely
missing. Hands tripped in the sand, surprised and was immediately surrounded by CVMS fighters who all aimed
a weapon at Hands’ head. The once frightened look on Hans’ face disappeared and was replaced by a smirk.
“You’re not the only one with tricks up their sleeves,” Hans said. Hands stared at Hans’ T-shirt.
“You have no sleeves.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, you’re dead.”
“Really?” Hands replied, and disappeared.
There was silence as the desert winds was the only sound. Confused, the CVMS elite vanguard lowered
their rifles, the tension easing as Hans got back to his feet, noticing a shimmer of light to their right.
His eyes widened, and he tackled the soldier to the right of him, a movement directly above his head.
The others collapsed as there was a slight clicking, and Hands was visible for a moment. Hans realized what it
was.
“Convex anti-reflective glass,” Hans ad-libbed.

49
 “I saw this on Phil Swift’s channel,” He unclipped a menacing can from his belt. He dodged another
invisible blow, the shimmering pocket of air dashing around. Calculating the trajectory, he fired. The elite
CVMS soldier dove out of the way as the shimmering pocket of air was barraged by Flex Seal. The Flex-Seal-
covered pocket of air smashed into the tent wall behind him, and it struggled to escape.
“To show the strength of Flex Seal,” Hans shouted.
“I sawed this guy in half!” The elite soldier began chainsawing through the anti-reflective glass. Peering
in the hole, they were surprised to find it was empty. Running frantically, the two stumbled to the crest of the
CVMS camp sand dune and stood.
Looking out into the setting sun, they found Hands running.
He didn’t come back.
Yet.

As night fell again, the CVMS camp bustled with activity. A buffet was set up as the soldiers came back
from their dusk patrol, hungry and dirty. Yaj and revived Bruce spectated the jolly clamor, both munching on an
Alphonso mango. The couples came out of their tents, dressed in formal attire in preparation for the gala
organized at 8:00 PM. Hans joined Yaj and Bruce as they discussed the plans for the gala. Suddenly, there was a
call on Hans’s Alcatel flip phone he bought at Rite Aid for fourteen dollars with no data.
“There’s still data on this thing?” Hans frowned, and opened the lid. There was an incoming call from a
Vanguard soldier, who went missing a few hours ago. He accepted the call and heavy panting resonated from the
cheap quality Corona-Lite sound chip, when a heavy, deep voice boomed.
“It’s Agent No. 21,” The voice spoke, and gunfire sounds were poorly replicated by the chip, leading to
a small fire at the tip of the phone, gently igniting Yaj’s lemur parka. “There’s a mole- there's a PTMS soldier
undercover at the gala-” The voice yelped as gunshots presumably whipped over his head. “Someone is there, I
don’t know who- Just- protect- yourself-” The voice cut off, the Alcatel exploding in a ball of flames, and Yaj
batted it away, muttering “Not as hot as my father’s curry,” and Sean abruptly scooped up the molten plastic and
began crunching away.
“Communism!” he exclaimed, mouth full, with a slightly creepy smile.
No one else smiled. All the talking and chattering instantly ceased and everyone looked at Hans. No one
said a word.
“What are you all being scared about, let’s party!” Hans reassured, although deep down he was worried.

The gala began normally. Everyone was happy and the food was delicious. No one seemed worried
about the threat PTMS posed to their lives. Hans almost even forgot about his troubling phone call with “Agent
No.21”. Almost. As sour cream and onion chips cascaded down his throat and into his stomach, Hans carefully
scanned the crowd, searching for any suspicious activities. He saw none, but did notice Liz and Luke looking
around randomly. He had also specifically requested to sit with the most skilled warriors, each one concealing a
weapon under their tuxedos. Tony turned on his mic and whispered a message.
“The coast seems to be clear, but keep your guard up,” Hans heard through his earpiece. Alex and Bruce
subtly nodded and surveyed the scene. Hans noticed Bruce’s head stop as he squinted at something in the dark.
Hans looked in the same direction and saw the thin outline of a human. It hid well in the night, its attire
blending with the starry sky, but Hans had clearly seen it. The figure stepped forward and Bruce abruptly stood
up. A bullet was fired. A soldier jumped. A loud clang echoed in the gala tent sent everyone into panic. Hans
quickly covered his head, in fear of being shot, but felt nothing. He opened his eyes to see Bruce on the ground
and Hans’ stomach tightened like a knot. Oh no, not again! He says in his mind. To Hans’ surprise, Bruce sat up
and brushed the grit of his tux,

50
 “Well, I won’t be wearing this anytime soon, not like I would want to,” he joked. Bruce then grabbed a
metal plate behind him and Hans noticed the bullet lodged in the middle. Hans’ eyes were locked onto the
bullet in awe, as Tony and Alex returned,
“It got away,” Tony reported, panting from all the running.
“Not completely,” Alex replied, smirking in slight triumph, “They left this.”
Alex lifted his hand and presented a student ID, one belonging to someone named Vivian Ye.
“Wait! I know that person! The ID card-person!” A voice in the back cried out frantically. Everyone’s
heads turned to look questioningly at the carrier of the voice.
Angelina, with wide eyes and gritted teeth, informed, “Vivian Ye. She's really smart. PTMS. A powerful
enemy.”
Ada turned forward, a sudden realization striking her.
“Oh, she’s the girl who won four high ranking medals in Regionals!” Ada burst out. The students
stared in silence, in fear.
They looked at the decimated area full of broken plates and wasted gourmet food. The refrigerators
flipped, and some bodies of PTMS soldiers came piling out, further tanking the happy energy of the party. The
janitors, Sean and Larry, quickly came around and ran around the field with their mouths open on the floor,
gobbling up everything in their path. Everyone looked in horror, as broken glass and shattered porcelain lodged
into Larry and Sean’s gums. Sean, still smiling gleefully, enthusiastically swallowed everything whole, not
injuring himself because of his everyday practice of eating non food items. Larry began ranting ferociously about
his insanity, laughing, crying as he digested the plastic, shaking with silent suffering.
Everyone came out of their hiding spots and gathered around Hans and his team. Some were
sobbing in shock, others angry by the sudden attack. Most people were just worried.
“What are we going to do?” someone from the crowd piped up.
Hans looked at Bruce, who looked at Tony, who looked at Alex, who looked at Sean, who was
convulsing from all the plastic he had eaten. No one knew what to do, all they thought about was to fight. But
that didn’t seem to work anymore. They needed to be stealthy, sneaky, and smarter than the opponent.
“No s***, Sherlock,” Alex covered his mouth as he spoke the first potty word in his life, and realized the
group all said the phrase in unison. An awkward silence followed as the group ushered the crowds back into their
respective tents, and set up a wifi router in Yaj’s luxurious Winnebago, enabling the students to watch Youtube
freely, although Liz and Luke weren’t interested in using electronics in their tent.
Yaj, taking a deep whiff of his Juul, observed the hectic scene, twiddling with his tiny mustache growing
from his upper lip. A black beanie covered the top of his head, slanting diagonally, a few strands of hair peeking
out from his forehead. He waved to the group of CVMS squadron leaders and they came toward him.
“I’m gonna have a meeting in my RV, but due to safety precautions, I am going to scan each of you for a
DNA matchup.” Yaj’s eyes narrowed, getting serious. He loaded his Beretta M9A3 and tossed it to his left hand,
where it stayed.
“Witnessing the scene, I saw Tony and Hans use their non-according hand, favoring the opposite hand
they were supposed to. Tony drew his pistol with his right, while Hans drew his with his left hand.” Yaj sat on
the stairs to his RV, his eyes clouded in shadow.
“Which means one of you is the mole.” Yaj pressed the scanner, which emitted a screech and a net of
infrared light before producing the results. He raised the pistol at Hans. Turning away, he drew his other pistol
from his back and shot Tony twice, metal chips flaking off of the alloy frame of the fake Tony. Alex dashed
toward T.O.N.Y, rotating and slamming his foot into the robot’s hand, who caught it and threw him back, while
Bruce jumped on it’s back, putting more and more pressure to the robot’s neck before the robot whipped
around, slamming Bruce into a pile of overturned refrigerators. Yaj unloaded a clip into T.O.N.Y’s leg, which
sparked and sizzled as T.O.N.Y was electrocuted.
“Where’s the real Tony?!” Yaj screamed, exasperated. The robot stayed silent.
“WHERE IS THE REAL TONY!?” Yaj screamed again as he yanked wires out of the machine and
stomped on its systems, as he forced the robot to give an answer.

51
 Suddenly, a bright flash of light burst from the robot internally. Yaj was thrown back and slammed his
head into the sand. His friends quickly ran to help him and forgot about the robot completely. But it didn’t
matter now. The remains of the robot exploded in a ball of fire which caused everyone to be thrown off their
balance and fell to the ground. The heat from the explosion burned Yaj’s skin as he tried to scoot back, and he
rolled head over heels, landing in a heap before he saw the real Tony from the corner of his eye, finishing up on
the clean-up process.
“Hey, Tony…” He whispered, and Tony, a clip of 9mm dangling from his neck, comforted him, Yaj’s
vision flickering back as Hans rushed to him, dragging him lightly to the Medevac with Tony, each grabbing a
leg.
“Why did you use your left hand in the battle?” Yaj snapped at Hans, as the world went black.
The last thing he heard was “Just for fun.”

Albert’s heart beat a bit quicker as he stepped out into the vast desert, Scout Platoon #319 going on a
mission to cripple the supply lines of the PTMS. Along with him were Jennifer, Brigitte, Inchara, and a few
others. He sighed as Jennifer threw her hair back to put on the Plexiglas helmet, and his heart stopped beating
for a few moments, his eyes sharpening to enjoy the view.
Since they were little, Albert had always wanted to be more than friends with her. He tried to get her
attention by doing all kinds of tricks and stunts, but she always shunned him.
Now was the moment he was waiting for.
Helicopter blades whirring, one of Yaj’s Apaches landed on the makeshift tarmac, whipping up a mini
sandstorm. Once the helicopter had settled, the platoon filed into the cabin and buckled up. Jennifer was the last
one on and sat down in the only empty seat left, right next to Albert. His hair tingled and goosebumps formed
on his arm as he caught a whiff of the sweet perfume Jennifer was wearing. He sighed and leaned against the hull
as the helicopter lifted off.
“Albert, don’t get too close,” Jennifer told him lightly as Albert’s face reddened, and he realized he had
laid his hand on her shoulder.
He gulped as he considered the choices to impress her.
“It’s a two hour flight to the supply chain. Wanna talk?” Albert ad-libbed, beads of sweat running down
his cheek as his neck tensed, preparing for the worst. The perfume wasn’t helping either as puberty throes
threatened to claw their way out of Albert’s body.
“Hmph. Why not?” Jennifer shrugged nonchalantly, and they dove into conversation, jumping from
question to question, mixing up the answers like Edison’s homemade margarita on the rocks. He was feeling
more confident as he began to inch toward her, his ears growing hot as his heart beat faster than a gatling gun,
and in the home stretch, the helicopter stopped, the doors opening, and Albert spilled out, the air rushing out of
his lungs as he fell out of the plane, landing spread-eagled facedown on the desert floor. Jennifer covered her
mouth, struggling not to giggle as Albert groaned and gave a shaky thumbs up.
“Platoon 319, 56 bravo, you are clear to leave the aircraft.” The pilot flicked the knobs at the end of the
dashboard and they hopped out, guns up, safeties off, and ready to fight.
As the platoon climbed over dunes of sand and sharp boulders, they sighted their target. The PTMS
supply lines. A series of camps full of weapons, ammunition, food, and anything needed to survive, the bases
were camouflaged to look like small sand dunes. But it was obvious they had rushed through the set up. The tarp
was stained with ketchup and wasabi, while a couple of PTMS soldiers were chewing on Costco Pizza from
God. While adding Tapatio sauce to his Combo, a sniper noticed a black dot in the distance, lying in the sand.
Jennifer pulled out a walkie talkie and said something inaudible. She then looked across the desert and waited.
Suddenly, from 322 meters, Chloe opened her nonexistent eyes, scoping out the sniper in the tower,
and when he turned around she pulled the trigger, the .50 cal blasting an enormous hole in his skull. Silently, the

52
dead sniper toppled onto the railing, and she winced as the sniper leaned over the railing, then exhaled a sigh of
relief as he plummeted back into the tower.
Getting up, she dusted off her desert camo ghillie suit, while Angelina and Jeslyn covered her, with an
AUG A3 and a M249 respectively. They gave Chloe a high five as she slid back into cover, panting almost as hard
during her first kiss with Schuyler. She crouched amid Angelina and Jeslyn’s giggles, while the two broke into a
sprint, sliding down the steep sand dune, and rolled, activating their glass riot gear helmets, which laced up and
locked down, the visor lowering as they looked like medieval armor.
“B****es, let’s play!” Angelina yelled and slammed her mace down onto the first soldier’s shoulder,
spontaneously combusting it in a spray of scarlet. She spun around as the soldier collapsed, and slammed her
heel into his skull, crushing it. With a cold gaze, Jeslyn slit the second guard’s throat, ripping it out and
dispatching him cleanly. Angelina tossed her mace to Jeslyn, and Jeslyn threw her kusarigamas to Angelina.
“****,” Angelina muttered. “I don’t know how to use these.” She tried spinning them, only cutting her
thigh in the process, and finally got the hang of the chained knives, decapitating a circle of soldiers still in their
barracks sleeping, and dodged an enormous bullet, while she drifted 360 in the coarse sand, flung the
kusarigamas aside, and retrieved the Attack on Titan signed edition vertical maneuvering gear.
Suddenly, an object crashed into the ground at an extremely high velocity, exploding into a shower of
Lethal bricks. As the dust settled, Addi and Elliott emerged, armed with their signed edition $2000 Max Pro Lite
XS 2 Air vertical maneuvering gear (進撃の巨人 hehe) and burst through the air, slicing necks like fillet
mignons, which slice depending on the cooking time. Unusually heroic, the dynamic duo decided to stop with
the memes and get to business.
“For Erica!” Elliott yelled as he spun, slicing someone’s head off. He continued to yell as he mowed
down the infantry and mowed himself down too. After a few seconds, he was sporting a fresh buzz cut, which
suited him fairly well. He also accidentally lopped his right arm off. He hadn’t practiced enough to use his
weapons properly, but still wanted to show off to Erica, just in case she was watching. Meanwhile, Addi was just
trailing behind him, waiting until Elliott killed himself so he could show off his pr0 skilz. Elliott, unable to
maintain his balance, crashed into the ground and broke both of his legs. He groaned, and dug himself a hole to
hibernate in until the end of the battle. (Here, Edison glorified himself to earn a reputation in middle school
society.)
Addi accelerated, slicing and dicing. He had been binge watching 進撃の巨人 for the past week in
Elliott’s car in order to prepare for this. Yelling, he became a human fidget spinner, accidentally decapitating
Jeslyn. He didn’t even look at her when her body hit the ground. Somehow, he landed, still spinning at high
velocity, and ended up right in front of Ethan Song’s ghost.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” Addi screamed, wondering how Ethan could still be alive. He frantically sliced
at Ethan, but his blades harmlessly passed through the ghost. Ethan picked up a mallet on the floor and whacked
Addi on the noggin, knocking him out.
“That’s what you get for not being in Calc AB, biiiiiiii**h!” yelled Ethan as he picked up Addi and
yeeted him into the distance. As Addi was flying through the air, Jeslyn slowly lifted her body off the ground and
picked up her head. Angelina stopped and stared at her as she placed her head back on her shoulders and
continued fighting.
“What the FRICKITYFRACKITYSNICKITYSNACKITY?” Angelina muttered. Elliott, unable to
stand being in the sand any longer, flew out of the ground and drifted away, on a mission to find Erica.

***

At the same time, Albert tentatively strode into the last warehouse in the camp, his pistol up. Sweating
bullets, he turned the corner to find Jennifer, and he lowered his pistol and did his hair.
He gathered up his courage, then spoke.

53
 “I love you.” Albert whispered, raising his eyes. “I’ve always loved you, for your fiery personality and
beautiful stature, I just love you so much, I just-” Albert’s words poured out of him, making hand gestures,
forgetting what he rehearsed so much in the mirror-
Jennifer locked her mouth on his. Albert’s eyes widened as he did too, and they stood there, in the
middle of the war, the middle of this all, kissing, and Albert was electrified, ecstatic, as a huge weight was lifted
from his shoulders, and enjoyed the moment.
Jennifer, wiping her mouth, replying, “I did that just to shut you up.” She tried to cover her wan smile
with a stoic facade but her smile peeked through her disguise, and the brightest crimson Albert had ever seen
began to spread across her cheeks.
“Ok, boomer,” Albert bantered, and the two seventh graders laughed nervously, still reeling from their
first kiss.
Suddenly, a figure appeared behind Albert, and Jennifer fired, while Albert closed his eyes, waiting for
the end. The gunshots were so loud that Albert’s ears rang as he ducked, slowly rising. On the ground, the
PTMS soldier had two holes in his head, and Albert turned around, about to thank Jennifer when he heard a
thwip ring out.
Jennifer and Albert searched for the noise, when Albert saw it first. A trail of blood dripped from
Jennifer’s chest, bloodying her Kevlar vest as Albert stopped, dropping his rifle. Following Albert’s gaze, Jennifer
looked down as a line of blood dripped from her lip, and she fell to her knees, as a second bullet kicked up the
ground beside her. She raised her hands and slightly touched her wound, then hurriedly looked back up at
Albert, in panic. Albert ran, tears in his eyes, and dragged her to a secluded corner, where her eyes turned glassy,
the blood pouring as Albert sobbed, attempting to plug the hole with his palm. The alarm and helplessness in
Jennifer morphed into an expression of understanding, and a small smile.
“Albert.” Jennifer looked him in the eyes, gunfire echoing outside as Albert peeked between his fingers,
meeting her gaze.
“I love you so, so much.” Albert sobbed, and dissolved back into his mourning state. Struggling,
Jennifer grabbed his head, turning it towards her.
“I know you do.” Jennifer whispered, and continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to it earlier.”
Albert blinked out more tears and shook his head vigorously.
“Albert, life is so, so complicated. It’s not black and white. There are ups and downs, and rights and
lefts, and nobody can stop you, nobody can halt you in your tracks and say: hold up, you cannot go this path. ”
Jennifer’s voice turned wistful, gurgling as more blood seeped from her lips.
“Please. Move on. Go to your mountain peaks, explore your deepest dreams. Please. Move on with your
life, don’t use me as an anchor, it would only hurt me more here to do so.” Jennifer tapped her skull lightly,
gathering the last of her strength.
“No… no…” Albert whispered, his eyes blurred with tears.
“The greatest people on Earth, the greatest, the most powerful, the most intelligent, the most talented,
the most skilled- they all endured pain, all kinds of it. I hope you can too…”
With a final breath, she gasped and uttered her final words.
“Albert. Albert, there are more fish in the sea, there are more adventures to seek, there are more faults in
our stars.”
“I love you.”
She raised her head a tiny bit as she leaned up to peck him on the lips, then her pulse dropped to zero,
and dropped down, not getting to complete her act.
Albert clutched her lifeless body, wailing as he held her close to his chest, rocking her back and forth, his
pupils empty and bleak. “I love you too.” Albert slumped, wiping his eyes as the final siren boomed outside for
CVMS evacuation of the camp.
Struggling with himself, he thought in his head quickly. I have one minute. 358 meters to run. But-
Jennifer.

54
 He grimaced under the pain as he hiked Jennifer’s frame onto his pack, pushing himself past his limits
as he began to run, with big, heavy footsteps, pounding in the soft sand as bullets ripped past him, killing CVMS
soldiers left and right, their bodies lying in the sand.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Albert screamed as his vision began fading and the helicopter rotors
began to spin.
50 Meters.
He began to lose hope.
40 Meters.
30 Meters.
9 seconds left.
20 Meters.
Albert’s back cracked as he fractured a rib, but he continued.
5 meters, 2.8 seconds.
Getting to the Apache, Albert gently deposited Jennifer with a few seconds to spare as the helicopter
lifted off, Albert’s back radiating with pain as he struggled to breathe, and the medic shoved a handful of asthma
relievers down his throat, and he rose, again energized.
His eyes black with vengeance, he strode to the back of the helicopter and retrieved a small, rounded
capsule, extremely heavy.
Staggering to the opening in the window, he turned the knob on the side of the capsule twice and let go,
amid the shouts of the passengers inside.
“YOU BETTER STOP! STOP B*TCH, STOP!”
The medic slapped him, but no response came.
Sitting back down next to his beloved Jennifer, curled up in a ball, he replied, “For Jennifer.”
Below them, an explosion fifteen times the size of Hiroshima obliterated the small outpost,
disintegrating everything in a massive cloud, debris flying everywhere.
“For Jennifer.” Albert finally whispered one last time, then collapsed against the wall, passed out from
exhaustion and despair.
It rained blood that night.

The siren wailed as Tony climbed out of his tent. He rubbed his eyes expecting an invasion, but what he
saw was much worse. There were fires everywhere, soldiers dead on the sand every few steps, bullets whizzing
past, and explosions here and there. Tony quickly snapped awake, grabbed his Kevlar vest and rifle, and rushed
outside. He found Joshua sniping from the watchtower who yelled,
“We need reinforcements on the front lines, PTMS is invading!”
Tony nodded his understanding and ran off to fight. As he rounded a corner, he saw a whirlwind of
sand and heard the faint sound of helicopter blades whirring. He looked up and saw a figure had dropped a
bomb out the side door. NO! He said in his mind as the explosion sent debris flying in all directions. Tony
covered his head but before he could open his eyes, he heard the “pow” of a gun being fired. He looked up and
found a PTMS soldier standing above him. The soldier smirked and raised his weapon.
A loud plunk stopped him from shooting, however, and the soldier suddenly flopped forward at Tony’s
feet. Behind the carcass, stood Hans with his gun still raised.
“You’ve gotta be more careful out here, or else you’ll end up like this guy,” he joked, as he motioned
toward the dead body, which separated into 256 chunks, scattering into the muddy puddle in front of him.
Tony retched, trying not to hurl as Hans patted him on the back, chuckling.
“Sorry, I just woke up,” Tony coughed, embarrassed.
“Mhm, I understand, but we better get a move on,” Hans replied.

55
 With that, the two of them ran off clutching their weapons tightly. They had both been suffering under
extreme stress, with the job of taking care of the important individuals and the soldiers, and the shock of being
mistaken and scanned still rang, the close call still fresh in their memory. This was all part of PTMS’ devious
plan. They had to stop it.
“Alright, what’s the plan?” Tony asked, reloading his gun.
“We’ve got transport helicopters on the way. All we need to do is hold them off for another, say, 25
minutes and counting,” Hans answered.
“Wait what, we’re evacuating?”
“You didn’t hear, we’re severely outnumbered, our supplies are low, they’re so much stronger than us.
We need to get out of here!”
Tony contemplated this for a while, in shock of how fast the situation had turned. He couldn’t believe
that they had to run away, again. They seemed to have PTMS on the ropes when they arrived at Anza Borrego,
but now, things were different. CVMS had lost a critical amount of forces and soldiers. They stood no chance at
all. They needed to regroup and regain strength.
“Ok, let’s do this,” Tony took a deep breath, then ran up a sand dune and stopped to get a view of the
situation. Hans quickly joined him.
“I see all the invaders down there, the camps seemed to be pretty deserted, no defense systems in the
back.”Tony pointed out, “Think we can raid their base?
Hans shook his head, “We can’t afford to lose more troops especially you and me,”
Tony nodded but gave another idea, as he noticed the sand dunes around the battles. “Maybe we could
climb these hills and bomb them from behind,” he suggested. Hans smiled at this and impatiently confirmed it.
The two sneaked down the hill and hid right next to their enemy up on the hills. They were surprisingly
unnoticed and Hans took out his RPG-7 and loaded it with grenades. He waited for the perfect moment, then
fired. At first nothing happened. The grenade seemed to be ignored or the PTMS soldiers simply didn’t notice it.
Then, a blast of fuel erupted in the forces, immediately sending troops flying. The soldiers, confused, panicked
and randomly started firing. They swiveled their heads in all directions trying to find the culprit. The CVMS
troops took advantage of this and started their attack.
Tony and Hans smirked as they loaded another grenade. Afraid of hitting their own troops, they
launched this one at the snipers in the PTMS watchtower. The explosion burned anything flammable but it
didn’t take long for everyone to discover the attackers. Furious, many soldiers aimed their attention to Hans and
Tony who started to run. Bullets hit the sand behind them spraying sand on their backs. This diversion,
however, allowed the CVMS army to launch a final attack. The roaring blades of an Apache could be heard by
now and when Hans looked up, he saw Sean sitting on the side of it with his machine gun as it chugged away at
the enemy.
“TAKE THAT YOU FILTHY CAPITALISTS!!! WE CARE ABOUT THE WORKING CLASS!!”
he yelled, smiling.
Overwhelmed, the PTMS troops ran in all directions, sending the army into disarray, giving the CVMS
troops a chance to slip away. Hans and Tony arrived back at camp just in time to see the area almost deserted. All
the tents had been packed, people scrambled to gather all their belongings, ammunition strayed on the ground,
and blood stained the sand to a chocolate brown color. 3 CH-47F Chinook transport helicopters were sitting in
the back and more were landing, as soldiers waved people on. Tony quickly nabbed his stuff and rushed in line.
Everyone else seemed to be doing the same. He took a deep breath and entered the helicopter. The door
slammed quickly and the whirr of the blades were soon heard. Eventually, the helicopter was in the air, flying
away. Away from a failed attempt at settlement. Away from Anza Borrego. Tony turned his head and stared
through the window. The calm, golden sand and the treeless terrain once reminded him of peace, but he knew
for sure, he was never going back…

56
Nothing to Lose

Sector
IV

Downtown
San Diego

57
 “Look around us.” Yaj stood on the top of a half-destroyed statue, flames surrounding him, his eyes
blazing with fury. Rubble was spread around him in a circle, the two-hundred thousand or so soldiers, men,
women, children, teens, adults, engineers, medics, doctors, nurses, orphans, widows, and pilots. Someone
rushed to help an injured woman, clutching a crying baby, who rushed out of the ruins of a bank. A massive scar
ran down her leg, and she collapsed, but was caught by the medics before she hit the ground.
“PTMS has been doing nothing to help the people. They prey on the weak, kick them out, and dispatch
them as if they were toys!” He emphasized the last word, spittle flying from his mouth as his anger built to a
boiling point.
Fingers trembling, he spoke. “We have been gathering the remnants, taking care of the oppressed,
speaking for the masses, doing good for the entire community. We aren’t trying hard enough.” Yaj paced, biting
his nails as his eyes lit up in a flaming gaze.
He wished Inchara could be here with him.
“Then why don’t we, we have nothing to lose.” A voice from the middle of the army shouted, echoing
around the empty city. Slowly, Yaj watched as a chant began to form, spreading like a wildfire.
“NOTHING TO LOSE! NOTHING TO LOSE!” Rifles and pistols were raised as a thunderous
boom rattled along with the chant.
Boom boom- clack
The soldiers stomped twice then clicked their rifle barrels together, creating a massive bass shockwave
that shook the whole city. Yaj stood, proud of his army’s morale, as he saw soldiers gain trust in their leader and
their cause.
His eyes began to widen as he saw homeless, injured, and just regular civilians begin to draw towards the army
like a magnet. There must have been fifty-thousand, sweeping towards the army like a tsunami. They joined the
ranks and joined the chant, bouncing up and down with elation.
They had found a home, a purpose, a haven. They had found CVMS.
“Although we have entered the final phase, we must remember.”
“A moment of silence for those dead.” Yaj wiped his nose, solemn as the army raised a fist to the sky.
They stood motionless as the only thing they heard was the breathing, the crying, and the cracking of the rifles in
the distance.
“We’ve been robbed. Destroyed, built back only to be knocked back down again. But we rise. We rise
from the very ashes, sometimes with nothing to spare, nothing to lose, and nothing to fight for. We’ve been
beaten down hard. But this isn’t the first time. And it won’t be the last. But we’re Carmel Valley, we’re feared
throughout the city. And we cannot lose that title. We won’t. Every time we’re knocked to the ground, we get
back up. Let’s do this city a favor and finally, once and for all, CRUSH THOSE PTMS INFIDELS!!!” Yaj
screamed as he raised his weapon in the air. His new army yelled in respect and newfound motivation to fight to
the death. After all, they had nothing to lose.
Yaj turned away, satisfied, as his eyes blazed with intensity and his mind turned faster than the
Mathcounts teacher when he/she heard the sound of a Supercell game opening.

Petco Park was a tourist attraction. The most famous building in San Diego downtown attracted
thousands of people every night there was a baseball game. Other days, it was as empty as outer space. But ever
since COVID-19 had hit the country, it had been abandoned 24/7. And it was perfect for CVMS. The streets
were quiet, cars rarely drove by as Bruce and Alex walked down the side of the road. The wind rustled the leaves
in the trees, as a fat droplet of water hit Alex’s head, causing him to raise his Deagle, alerting the loggerhead
shrike perched on his shoulder. He was dressed in a modernized metallic plague doctor uniform, his breath
rising from the two vents on the sides of his beak, which glowed dark-green.
In no time, the raindrops began to come faster and faster, until the water turned to ice, enormous pieces
of hail destroyed everything in sight. Alex flinched as an ice cube shattered the windshield of a UCSD student’s

58
Honda Civic and scattered glass everywhere. Tony, pulling up his mask, ducked and dragged Alex beneath an
overhang. In a flash, the hail stopped.
Confused, Tony arose from his position, and raised his rifle, panting heavily as the area around him
went dark. Blinded, Alex staggered before smashing into a robed figure, clad in maroon, who stood in a mask of
wood, stretching out behind them.
There are four, and each of them control a different element, Tony thought as he struggled to find Alex in
the swallowing blackness. Finally, he was pushed to the ground, and the four figures gathered around Alex and
Tony.
“CVMS?” One of the figures lifted their mask, a cloud of darkness still swirling around their hand. He
quickly extinguished it and helped Tony to his feet. Alex stopped as he realized who it was.
“It’s Oak Valley.” Alex breathed as he gingerly extended his hand toward the figure. The figure helped
him up and he brushed his plague doctor suit off, breathing a sigh of relief.
“We are the Brotherhood of the Oak.” The Shadow Prophet in front of Alex whispered, causing all of
the figures to flash a leaf badge to each other. “I am Jericho.” Jericho turned and addressed the five others with a
nod. “That is Karius, the Fire Prophet, Harris, the Water and Ice Priest, and Lawson, the Metal and Nature
Prophet.
“Through the adventures and the lands you have sought and trodden, we have watched from the Valley
of the Oak, observing.” Jericho paced, his eyes cold.
“We will do what we think is right.”
Jericho glanced at his fellow prophets who raised their weapons, each glowing in a strange mystical color
representing their specific power.
“For ages, CVMS has been our rival, our enemy, our competition, never were you our friend,” Jericho
continued, his voice deep and emotionless. He stared at the CVMS soldiers, his eyes dark like the night sky.
“What do you want from us?” Bruce gritted through his teeth, his eyes glaring at the Prophets.
Jericho smirked, “In exchange for our support in this war, you give us 25% ownership of your mango
mafia,”
“That’s not our decision to make, I mean-”
“Fine then, CVMS can say bye-bye to their most precious warriors,”
Jericho raised his own weapon and the sound of something charging up was heard. Slowly the noise
increased as Alex, Tony, and Hans braced for impact.
“Alright fine!” Bruce yelled, his eyes shut tight, his hand raised for the OVMS soldiers to stop, “We’ll
give you 20%, that’s all we’ll offer.”
The four prophets looked at each other, each seeming to have their own opinion. Suddenly, Karius, the
Fire Prophet’s eyes open wide. He looked at his friends as he grimaced in pain. Karius fell to his knees and
flopped on the ground, heat still radiating from his hands. He looked at Bruce, who held a black orb in his hand,
his eyes black with a burning hate, and the four figures gasped as they were drawn towards each other.
“No…” Jericho breathed, as they were set down. They made no effort to get up. They rose to their feet,
eyes wistful and quiet.
“It was a long time ago... At Scripps hospital, 6:35 PM.” Bruce turned away, deep in thought, partially
speaking to himself. “I was born, and was rushing to the newborn’s ward when the nurse carrying me was
attacked by four men, who brought me to the ward, disguised as doctors, and planted a drotium orb deep into
my chest cavity, and it burst, spreading drotium throughout his body, and to my brain.” Alex and Tony stood
melancholy, rain dripping down from their helmets.
“My sister and parents chased after the assailants, but it was too late. You see, drotium is the most
magnetic material mankind has ever seen. And it doesn’t go well in your body. But I was chosen. Chosen to
carry the burden. The fu dan, as fan lao shi said. The drotium caused immense swellings throughout my body
that were pushed back for a while, but imploded, causing my body to be like a twig.”
“Drotium is like a motherboard, a controller for a larger system. It configures magnetic flows, and can
remotely activate magnetic fields and destroy. It was first discovered in 2006, by Jericho Experimental Labs.

59
After creating an orb of drotium, they were not allowed to test it on a human. So they searched for the perfect
test subject, with the rarest attributes and highest tolerance. A baby.”
“At first, I couldn’t control it. Cars would come flying toward me and so would planes, dragged by a
gigantic force. That was where the pool came in.”
“I began to swim. The pool was the only place I felt safe, the water soothed me and there were no metal
objects in sight. The water was different. Neither did it suddenly become attracted, nor repel me, it flowed with
me. I learned to be one with the water, let it be part of me and I be part of it. That was the moment I discovered
how people are. How shallow (heh) they can be. Some people only come to you for an external feature you have.
Others are too quick to judge you based on it and try to distance themselves as far as possible. But what they look
at was never a part of oneself. Finally, there are people who look deeper (heh) than that, they are the water. They
understand, accept, and live along with you. That was CVMS. But you guys, you’re even worse. Like the first
type, you only look at the surface, not a person’s connection with it. You look at us like a tool, and immediately
get drawn in if we can be useful. But not only that, you used me as a test subject, and for mangoes too, without
considering what it can do to me. You get drawn in, and then you manipulate them. You are the oak. The oak
that takes advantage of the water to help its own self grow, and we won’t be fooled by you.”
“But- the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And I also appreciate a good cheat sheet.” Bruce grudgingly
held out a finger, his eyes cold, no humor in his voice. “Don’t make me do this again, Alex, this isn’t my style.”
Bruce whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
By now, Jericho was furious. His face was as red as Chloe’s cheeks whenever she saw Schuyler, as steam
came out from his ears. His eyes flared with so much hatred that Bruce shivered.
“Why...you… little…monster!” Jericho stuttered, unable to think.
Bruce smirked, “You do realize, this whole time...I’ve just been distracting you?”
Suddenly, a horde of CVMS soldiers came out from behind cars, trees, and buildings, each and everyone
one of them holding a Barrett, ready to fire at any moment.
Alex added on, “Oh, and he’s not that ‘little’,” while jumping back, holding a weapon of his own. Bruce
towered over Jericho nonchalantly.
Jericho and his team swiveled their heads, stunned by the clever trickery of the CVMS army. Jericho
glared at Bruce, who only smiled. Tony waved at him and then everything went black as Jericho cast a shroud of
darkness before collapsing, struck in the leg by a .50 cal.
Karius fell as Lawson cast a tree-binding spell, wrapping around a CVMS sniper, his rifle flying into the
bushes as he toppled, laurel wrapping around his waist. Another screamed as Karius destroyed his lower torso
with a well-aimed blast. Bruce drew them together, his eyes blazing black as he hurled Lawson into a wall,
shattering as the nature prophet launched himself back in a web of silk.
Alex juggled his knives eagerly, slashing downward and finishing with an uppercut, sending Harris
down the street. Tony blasted Karius as he ducked, sliding prone on the street with Harris’s ice, and rose to his
feet, 9mm shells scattering all over the street as Tony grimaced, spinning the akimbo Uzis by his pinkies.
Bruce was knocked back as Jericho grabbed him, the two sailing back into a Lexus, the windshield
shattering as Bruce flipped back over, smashing a windshield wiper down on Jericho’s head. Jericho threw a
hasty haymaker that Bruce blocked, but still was knocked back, the bottom of his Vans scraped off as he jumped
toward Jericho again, roundhousing him while repelling him back with a sudden but extremely powerful
magnetic field, and Bruce switched it off quickly, halting and panting heavily.
Jericho undid his belt and his robe, and all the knives he held at his melt.
“Whoa there, buddy.” Bruce licked some blood from the corner of his mouth, eyes narrowing as he
focused. Jericho stood confused.
“TONY! ALEX! TAKE OFF ALL YOUR METAL ITEMS!” Bruce shouted. Tony frantically threw
his Uzis out, Alex tossing away his knives and mask. The snipers tossed everything away, as an ominous
humming built up slowly.
There was a moment of silence before it happened.

60
 Bruce let loose with an impossibly massive, extremely powerful magnetic field, completely decimating
the surrounding area, as fifteen blocks in all directions were blown apart, cars flying into the far distance, street
lamps spinning as the sidewalks exploded.
Jericho, forgetting the iron in his braces, was blown back and landed spread-eagled on top of an antique
Honda. Tony and Alex sat in shell-shocked silence as a skyscraper flew into the distance, comically blowing apart
as the chunks of metal flaked off, landing in the enormous jaws of Sean. He crunched them like cereal, satisfied,
and went off back to camp. They sat there, still shocked, as day turned to night. Bruce yawned and fell asleep,
exhausted from using his magnetism. From the 8-I Satellite a group of OVMS girls excitedly screeched as they
watched K-Pop Bruce sleep.

Everything was silent. Absolutely silent. Not a sound was heard from the camp. The atmosphere was
grim, people nervously fiddled with their weapons. Some worriedly looked towards the exit, hoping, others sat
quiet, their expressions full of concern. Yaj sighed and looked at his watch: 2:34 AM. He was growing impatient.
Bruce, Alex, and Tony had left almost 12 hours ago, but they haven’t returned since. Neither had his army. He
sent a group of 50 snipers with Bruce, but he didn’t hear from any of them. The only person who returned was
Sean, who seemingly forgot everything and spoke only of his master communism plan.
“I’m goin’ out, no one follow me, everyone stay safe,” Yaj announced to his anxious army. The army
paced and resumed brewing instant noodles. Shim Ramyun Black, of course.
“What? No, Yaj, we need you. You can’t leave,” someone in the crowd replied, “If we lose you it’s all
over. They’ll come back for sure.”
“No. You don’t understand, I can’t lose them. If they’re gone, we lose,Yo Eddi” Yaj argued.
“But if we lose you we have no chance,”
There was a slight murmur of agreement as everyone looked at Yaj and waited for instruction. Yaj
covered his face, unsure about what to do.
“Please Yaj, stay. They won’t ditch us like this, it’s not their character. Or we can just have someone else
go, we need you Yaj,” said a soothing voice as Yaj felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t understand-”
People began to chant for Yaj to stay.
“I can’t afford to lose Bruce again-”
The chanting grew louder.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Yaj yelled, impatiently.
The camp suddenly grew silent.
“BRUCE IS THE ONLY FAMILY I HAVE LEFT, I CAN’T AFFORD TO LOSE HIM AGAIN!”
Yaj screamed, tears streamed down his cheeks as he coughed and lowered his head, “I'm going to find them. I’ll
be back I promise. But I need to go.”
Yaj turned away, grabbed a Glock and a SMG, then ran off into the darkness and hoped his friends were
still alive.

Bruce walked with Alex and Tony as they entered the Land of Lethals. Alex demanded to pay the
nonexistent pay machine as Tony dragged him away, while Bruce watched from a distance, instead staring at the
D in Land. There was a wire pointing out from the top, and it was rather large. Bruce stared at it again, then
ducked as the D exploded, Alex and Tony staggering as the sign proudly exclaiming: “LethalLAND” (meant to
be Leg0 Land but we might get copy striked) fell off, instead proclaiming: LIL’ RIZZO’S LAIR. Bruce
shrugged, deactivating the proximity mine placed on the security gate without even looking at it, with a push of
a thumb, and a quick snip.

61
 They strode confidently in, Meek Mill’s “Going Bad” booming in the background, Bruce leading the
pack, Tony and Alex following, the remainder of the snipers trailing behind them. Confused, Tony turned
around to see Joshua blasting rap without his airpods connected.
Joshua, shrugging, changed the song to Eminem’s “Marsh”, Mr. Drechsel conducting to the 8/4 beat.
The bass was so heavy it hurt Alex’s ears, so Alex grabbed the phone and typed “Dancing in the Dark.” Instantly,
the group was happy, and they walked over to the Lethal Store, snatching the minifigures and stuffing themselves
with Lethals. Alex ran over to the back of the shop and wiped the entire Lethal Pokemon shelf clean. Tony
kicked open the coin machine and took as many coins as he could. Hans ran to the checkout counter and busted
open the money rack and stuffed his nonexistent pockets full. Only Bruce stood in front of the store,
motionless, disgusted by the actions of his friends.
“What in the world are you three doing?!? We’re here to fight not to play!” Bruce ordered.
Tony and Alex reluctantly agreed and walked over to Bruce. Hans struggled from the weight of all the
air he had taken and Joshua was missing. Bruce sighed and walked into the store, kicking poor Lethal Chima
stuffed animals away. Suddenly, Joshua came sliding over to Bruce, his arm fully extended and his hand holding a
metal ball which stuck to Bruce.
Now Bruce was irritated, “Where the heck did you get that?”
“I found it in the storage cabinet, thought it would be useful,” Joshua shrugged.
“Alright fine, let’s get moving,” Bruce rolled his eyes.
The group walked through the unopened park, past the Lethal Ninjago area, through Miniland, past
the entire rest of the park, and arrived at their destination. The Lethalland Water Park.
“What are we doing here?” Joshua asked, confused.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed, “You’ll see,”
He walked forward into the park, suspicious, and raised his arms. Suddenly, two snipers in camo gear
came flying towards him from the shrubs along the sidewalk, as they flailed their arms in surprise and confusion.
The sniper rifles clanged onto Bruce’s waist who ignorantly shoved the soldiers to the ground. Bruce grabbed
one of them and rolled him onto his side. On the soldier’s arm was the patch of a bloodthirsty wolf, with eyes
crimson red and teeth as sharp as knives. Joshua shivered at the sight of two dead enemies that could’ve easily
killed him.
Bruce narrowed his eyes and ducked down faster than Yaj when he got U.K. visitors. A dart shot past his
head, and Alex loaded his rifle, Tony jumping with surprise, firing off a burst of 9mm. A PTMS scout lowered
the benzodiazepine rifle and shuddered as the metal filings in his teeth began to come loose. Bruce raised his
hands and the metal filings began to pierce his cheeks, the PTMS scout’s cheeks imploding as his skull blew
apart. Bruce’s eyes darkened as he closed both hands into fists.
With a massive shockwave, the soldier instantly disappeared. Bruce opened his Lethalland umbrella and
strode toward the cafe. Bone marrow and shards showered down on the quartet. Tony simply stared as a deluge
of crimson rained down on the concrete.
Bruce strode silently to the cafe, pieces of flesh dripping from the edges of his umbrella. Nobody
questioned him as he raised his hands and a frightened sniper came sliding over to him. Bruce held him in a
chokehold and smashed his head with the umbrella, the clunk sound echoing through the air. The body flopped
to the ground, motionless.
Dead.
Everyone shivered at the brutality, but didn’t say anything. None of them had ever seen Bruce so
vicious, but they all understood what was at stake. A life size minifigure was eviscerated as Bruce destroyed the
waterslides. Finally, he said something.
“I wanna go swimming.”
Bruce hopped in the Lethal Chima Wave Pool, red clouds floating aimlessly in the pool, dead bodies of
PTMS soldiers and a few CVMS riot police lying face down, motionless, as the water splashed silently over the
rifles gimmering in the faint sunlight. Bruce casually waddled through the murky water then stopped. He slowly

62
stood up, eyes scanned the tall brush behind the pool. He then turned around, and looked toward his friends.
The last thing they heard before a massive shockwave slammed them was “run”.

Yaj was sweating. He cut through the thick bushes along the I-5 North, with each step he grimaced in
pain. His legs felt like jelly, and his arms felt like they were going to fall off. His feet had blisters all over them. But
he had to keep moving. His pistol rounds strapped on his chest only dragged him down.
Despair was imminent.
Hope was a metaphor.
Bruce was out there.
“Dancing Queen” blared in his ears as he silently berated Alex for downloading ABBA songs to the
Sony Walkman. His eyelids drooped as he gasped for air, exhaustion seizing his limbs as the crack of dawn
pierced his pupils. Staggering to his knees, Yaj fell backwards as cold water was pelted in his face. Frantically
reaching for the Mauser, he panted heavily as his consciousness swam before him.
“Put the damn gun down, kid-” Yaj spat, icy water dripping from his nose as an ethereal voice boomed
around him. Slowly raising his gaze, he saw nothing but blankness. There was nothing around him except a pale,
bleak white. An infinite plane. The only thing he could see was himself.
Himself.
A jet black, shadowy wraith vaguely resembling himself, throwing a crimson obsidian knife between his
hands.
Eyes blazing, his doppelganger (Jay) dashed toward him- He ducked as the obsidian blade whipped over
his head, planting his heel into the white material under his feet. Somersaulting, he cracked the butt of the
Mauser against Jay’s spine, sending him toppling to the ground. Throwing his pistol away, Yaj’s fists closed into
his doppleganger’s face again and again, spurt of blood erupting from the anomaly’s face. Morphing, Jay’s face
thinned, his body transforming as he stood, cracking his knuckles, eyes soulless as Yaj spun away, panting heavily
as he grimaced, his conscience throbbing, struggling to burst out of his chest.
A fully transformed Bruce coughed softly, confused as he stared down at the Mossberg 500 Tactical in
his arms. Yaj’s eyes widened as chains burst from the blank floor, strapping him to the ground as PTMS soldiers
began to surround Bruce, who winced as a merciless barrage of blows began to wear him down.
Ethan Song slammed the barrel of his Hecate into Bruce’s skull, crushing it as Yaj screamed, kicking, as
he shouted, wailed, cried- helplessly- as his best friend’s body was mutilated and beaten not three feet away from
him.
“It’s been 62 years…” A bearded Indian man weaved through the PTMS soldiers, healing Bruce as his
muscles reattached to each other, bone fragments stitching- Amogh Chaturvendi snapped his fingers as the
soldiers disappeared, leaving only him and the tortured Yaj, who was released.
“It’s been 62 years since I had seen the world…” Amogh whispered as tears rolled down his cheeks, his
peppered beard scratching his neck. “I was forced to teach- forced to learn- forced to thrive- forced into this
inception as my real body is still kept in cryo back in the chambers at PTMS.
“Inception- a dream within a dream-” Yaj blurted, and yelped as the floor collapsed, Amogh grabbing
him as they fell toward the ravaged city of San Diego below. Amogh held Yaj close as he woke-
In freefall.
Inchara, Danica, Bruce, Alex, and Sean hung by 5 nooses.
Amogh sat, surrounded again by executioners, ready to kick the chair.
“Yaj- don’t do it! Please pleas-” Inchara uttered a muffled scream as an execution manually removed one
of her lower limbs.
“Pick four to kill in the next five minutes.” Amogh muttered.
“Or what?” Yaj replied, through his gag.

63
 “They- all die.” Amogh raised his mottled finger to the nooses higher above. There, on rope nooses,
hung every single person he had ever known, Hans typing frantically on his Chromebook as writer’s block took
hold.
Suddenly, he lost control of everything. He was trapped inside his brain. Yaj, turning to all his friends,
said in a deep, distorted, Blurryface voice,

“KILL THEM
ALL.”
And the bodies fell.
And then he awoke upside down in a tank of petroleum, Amogh next to him in a scuba suit, holding a
rope that was attached to a noose around Yaj’s throat. In his other hand he held a lighter.
He awoke.
Finally.
Bruce towered over him, his slim frame illuminated by LED strobe lights. Menacing and invincible,
(Bruce had died numerous times in the past fanfictions) Bruce panted as his breath condensed on the bloodied
Nerf Rival mask strapped firmly to his temples. His once silky hair was now slathered with mud and grime, the
tolls of war taking upon the young and bold warrior. The scholar. The worker.
Yaj simmered with resentment, drowning himself in self hatred as Alex lifted him up and out of the cot.
Tony and Joshua grilled bell pepper and beef kebabs on a hasty campfire nearby, two tents glowing from within
softly nearby.
“8:52 PM.” Bruce whispered, sighing as he hauled his best friend to his feet, patting him on the back
and sitting him down on a log, flames in the distance flowing as automatic gunfire rang from the apartment
building nearby.
“Bravo Sector is secured, three north has yet to be.” Bruce steadied Yaj as a head splitting headache
ripped through his head. “You’ve been out for three days… Y’all right mate?” Yaj wondered when his friend had
developed an Australian accent.
Concerned, Bruce grabbed a can of midazolam and paused as Yaj wheezed, his trench coat blowing
Bruce’s hand back, the pills lodging inside his throat. Toppling backwards, Bruce succumbed to the fast acting
sedative as his head smashed into a boulder perched precariously on the side of a tree. The Anatomy kids ran
over the hill, carrying surgery equipment as Yaj was put to sleep, his whites rolling to the back of his head.

They were closing in.

The third wave began as Theresa pulled the pin on her last grenade, and tossed it backwards over the
sandbags. A bullet hit her hand and pierced it in a spray of crimson as she grimaced, painting the bridge guard
toll house red. Sweat rolled down her temple, biting on her bandana as seven bodies of PTMS soldiers flew into
the air. Embers flew through the thick smoke as Theresa dissolved into unconsciousness, the medic frantically
working on her hand as he fended off the paratroopers with a MAC-10 in his left hand.
“Sentinel’s down, we’ll need Rogue to step it up.” The medic spat into his radio, gesturing to his
assistant to help him move Theresa back up the bridge.
The bridge.

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 The Coronado Bridge, measuring 11,178 feet. 200 feet high. Located in the bustling centre of a
metropolis, it was a main roadway for transportation.
Now?
Hydra Division retreated farther up the bridge, weaving through mazes of abandoned cars and bridge
collapse, as a dark form flew overhead, circling as PTMS called more assault teams to secure their position.
“We’ve got Bravo on the scene, Rogue’s land.” Alex unfurled his wingsuit, muttering a short prayer as
he activated his homemade gravity spikes, kamikazing toward the middle of the attack force. He closed his eyes as
he braced for impact.
They felt it before they saw it. It didn’t make sense that way, since sight and light are much faster than
shockwaves. In any case, it was awe-inspiring.
Alex felt the air leave his lungs as he blew the Chevrolet truck a few meters away from him with a
shockwave, sending it flying into the ocean below as the concrete shattered below his feet.
Things were just beginning.
From the airfield, in quick succession forty F-12 CVMS Mockheed Lartin Raptors took off, Hans and
Joshua among them. Bewildered, Hans poked at the controls, expecting it to be easy to fly. He was wrong.
He accidentally launched a Hydra missile into a nearby office building, destroying it in a massive ball of
flame, before poking at the yoke and taking off but not after firing another Hydra missile and almost hitting
Delta Squadron. Flipping upside down, he drew upon his extensive Fallout 4 experience and wondered where
the X button was.
Joshua, on the other hand, was readily trained, as Linguini owned 9 million+ aircraft and taught ELG
using them. However, on Fridays Hans would periodically die from hypothermia while waiting for WIDI and
awake later, suddenly alive at 2:39 AM exactly. As a result he did not get much experience flying jets.
Joshua shot Hans a look of amusement before descending into his usual demeanor of condescending
repudiance. Suddenly, the party got started.
“Airborne division 60-R, we have 80 targets approaching fast…”

Alex roundhoused a shotgun-wielding PTMS soldier before ducking under a hasty axe swing, disemboweling
the poor guard with a flick of his Flex Tape knife. He stood for a moment, confused, until his pancreas began
slipping.
Swinging back, Alex drew his serrated wakizashi, rolling under a bus, cutting it in half, and dispatched
the artillery crew pushing a howitzer, as Sean chomped on the corpses of the PTMS soldiers, closing his eyes as
he groaned, highly enjoying the taste of the steel, the simply exquisite texture melting in his mouth. “Lskdjl
delicious,” Sean remarked, in a horrible Scottish accent.
Equally horrible, however, was the communications systems on the F-22s’. Hans began spinning, his
Raptor diving below the bridge, as PTMS Sukhoi Su-30s screamed past his cockpit, firing their missiles at will.
Pulling hard on the yoke, Joshua shot upwards, looping around. A friendly pilot ejected from his seat as his
Raptor lit in flame, then stumbled as Hans shot past him, nearly impaling the pilot.
Sean snatched a nice juicy Su-30 out of the air and mashed it happily, greedily forcing the plane down
his throat, which was bigger than Alex’s eyes in the BNN black-n-white skit. The PTMS pilot screamed as he
dissolved in Sean’s pool of carborane.
The Battle of Procidens Pontem had begun.

65
 Subsector
I:
The Battle of
Procidens Pontem
THE FALLING BRIDGE

As told in First Person and Third Person

66
Yaj Jhajhria

Wake up.
When I woke up, it was hell.
The flies buzzing in my ears, the utter tragic view of my soldiers dying, the medics- the time has come.
Pacific Trails deserves to pay.
Pushing past my simmering resentment, I am at the brink. To be honest, I’ve looked at that
cold, empty barrel of that .38 many, many times. I’ve given Death a bowl of chicken makhani and he
gave me a platter of oysters. But the pride in my soldiers is what really keeps me going. Not the
satisfaction of gunning down a man who doesn’t want to fight.
The pride.
And that’s what we’re gonna do.
A slight swagger now bounces in my step, the beautiful afternoon sun glancing off of the thin
string bracelet around my wrist. My confidence booms with every step, my soldiers waiting, 30,000
strong, spread over Petco Park.
The only thing left is me, so I step up to the microphone and clear my throat.
I’ll let’em have it.
With both barrels.

“On January 19th, 2020, tendrils of smoke curled up into the starless sky above the fated exits
of Highway 56, artillery fire repeating, again and again, debris flowing into rivers- and still, the
onslaught endured, the stereotypical mural, the facade of grandeur and drama of war.” “The Mango
Wars- all in the same nation, pitting friend against friend, brother against brother, parent against son,
an agonizing siege between the devil on our shoulder and the angel in our heart. Suddenly the world
realized: Gone are the days where the basic needs of humans are food, shelter, and water.” I punctuated
each syllable with a pound on my pedestal. The audience bristled, Hans’s automated Speech-Stutter
3500 giving me signals. Suddenly, I remembered.
“Gone are the days where people judge people on their nationality and not by their fruit. Gone
are the days when simplicity was the epitome, the ubiquitous language. We will push through. We will
prevail. We will come out on top of the mountain, out from the abyss, and to the rightful throne
above. The shining throne of academic, physical, intellectual domination. War, it may not change, but
we will.” I separated from the speaker booth, tension building as the boiling point began to tip.
“We will fight in the spires of downtown. We will fight on the highways. We will fight in the
navy-blue skies that are OURS! They are OURS-” Yaj spat vehemently, enunciating with a burning
passion. “We will fight on the beaches of Del Mar. We will fight in the twisted alleyways of Lethalland.
WE WILL NEVER SUBMIT, NEVER GIVE IN, NEVER MAKE A SINGLE- ONE SINGLE
DROP OF BLOOD OF OURS NOT WORTH SPILLING. Look at the bodies scattered around us.”
The crowd turned, silent as they breathed, bodies strewn everywhere. Craters from grenade blasts and
bombings pockmarked the pale concrete as fire burned everywhere, a thick smoke blanketing the small
ridge while flies buzzed over decayed corpses, PTMS and CVMS alike. Their weapons lay strewn in
pools of blood, automatic cartridges shining with crimson as some barrels of the rifles still smoked
postmortem of their owner.
Embers and ashes, endless piles of it, devoured the remains of the buildings piled with steel and
blood. Some civilians streamed out from the nearby apartments as CVMS Anatomy tended to their
wounds and losses, grime and oil making their squalor obvious. Artillery boomed as the Battle of

67
Procidens Pontem began to pick up. Tears fell as I breathed, Hans’s speech assistant giving him Hans’s
automated final instructions then powering off.
“So join me. Your leader. I am merely a guide to the battlefield, the guide to the journey. If we
fail, we will lose our legacy, our land, and our lives.”
“Unless we start now. “
“Our fate is in our hands. It’s up to us, we either change it together or go down alone. But if we
change together we can do the things that made the human race unlike any other, to pull our destiny
out of the oblivion that awaits.”
“I repudiate the idea that we will always be shackled to the chains of PTMS rule and mango
oppression, because the verdant evergreens of peace, the rivers of tranquility gushing through the
mighty rocks of equality, and the lush grass of freedom await among the ever so close horizon. And
when that day comes when society surges to the essence of peace, we can start a new age, unified as
one.” The tension threatened to snap.
“FOR WE ALL BLEED THE SAME COLOR!” I stabbed a balisong knife into the speaker
stand then tossed away the microphone, my trench coat sweeping away as I loaded my assault rifle
loudly. “Follow me.”
They did.
With an earthshaking roar, my army marched, with booming steps of iron. More F-22s
screamed above, swooping through the skyscraper ruins as I sprinted, trying to not get crushed by my
own troops. Hans’s speech worked a little too well.
It’s gonna be a helluva day.

Alex Xu
Coronado Bridge

I hope my Eeevee hat is okay. I know that’s not really I should worry about right now while
blasting PTMS reinforcements, but I am. It’s gotten kinda instinctual, my hand instantly moving to
the holster, and blowing up someone’s face. I try not to go for fatal attacks, but unfortunately most of
the time I can’t.
“Sorry-” I remark as I snap a heavy’s neck, spinning him and shattering his temples with the
butt of my plague doctor beak, then batting the bullets away using my iron gauntlets. Andrew Li is
actually a really good metalsmith. I can blast away .50 cal shells like butter.
Wrong analogy? I think so.
Do I care? Nope. Hi I, I’m Alex.
They’re coming up the bridge faster now. I can see a Kurata G-0 closing in, dunno if Sean can
handle those missiles. Time to get back to defending.

Hans Yang
San Diego Bay Airspace

Ah klkjk.
Shoulda flew a bomber.

68
 I can’t even move my knees, I’m cramped up against the cockpit, the yoke pressing against my
kneecaps. Surprisingly I haven’t died, a few close calls. I crank the radio louder, drowning out the ear
splitting rattling of the Sukhois, my target opening up as I pull the trigger.
Unbelievable recoil launches me back, missiles spiraling toward the Sukhoi as the pilot
screamed, climbing to the wing, preparing to jump off. Ignoring him, Joshua and I almost crash, both
of us deep in a hornet’s nest, Sukhois jabbing at me with 25mm rounds. I pray to poutine and press the
button.
As I pass the Sukhoi, I wrap him with nylon twine, 10 inches thick and reinforced with steel
filings. Andrew Li is really a lifesaver. Catapulting him into 6 others, I begin losing control, and I close
my eyes, realizing this is the end of the line as my wing tears off.
“This is Bravo Six. Say goodbye to my friends and my family. Out.” Spiraling toward a PTMS
artillery battery, I leap out as I kamikaze toward the cannon, my ribs shattering as my face slants,
smashing into the water as the shockwave of the destroyed F-22 blows me back, my head bleeding
profusely as I groan, drawing my .44, spinning the barrel with a shaky hand before vomiting onto the
sand.
Limping, I fall to my knees, migraines consuming me as I fumble for the syringe, the heat of
the F-22 explosion making me roll behind a Czech hedgehog, panting as I slip the holo sight onto my
.44 before collapsing again, this time sighing as the morphine runs through my veins. Grabbing a
cartridge from the PTMS soldier lying by me, he groans as I press the barrel of the .44 to his temple.
My hair dripping wet, I bite my lip as I shake my head, grabbing a roll of bandages. I wrap his arm with
the bandages, patting him on the shoulder before taking all his weapons, and slipping on his ID and his
helmet.
As I look back, he’s already asleep.
I gain my bearings from behind the concrete wall, pain radiating from my stomach. Getting to
my feet, I duck as a bullet whips past me- I run for the next crater, blasting the metal sniper hatch with
a slug, but not before the sniper slipped back into his nest. Spinning the barrel, I hear war horns as
Bruce bounds over the hill, the sniper nest imploding behind him.
“Waow.” I utter as Bruce looms over me.
A massive albino hare, complete with saddle and reins, covered in blood stares down in me,
Bruce giving me a hand as I climb into a Raven 3 Exosuit capsule, his magnetism drawing out the
shrapnel embedded in my chest.
Bravo Six is online again. [THIRD PERSON COMMENCING]

The Battle was in full heat, Joshua Jin in the air still fighting.
Hans Yang on the ground, kamikaze survivor. Bruce and all the animals from the San Diego Zoo, as
well as all the marine creatures from Oceanland.

69
70
71
Battle Ideas: *DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE ONLY IDEAS*
Battle 1: Lucky Seafood Pho Shop/Bay Club,
William is captured, escapes
Battle 2: Miramar College, fan fei fei dies
Battle 3: Anza Borrego Wild West Shootout

More in between

Battle 4: USS Midway second to last battle,

Mathcounts kids sacrifice (except larry)
Battle 5: We have to make this one cool and close to
home.

USS Midway YES! We fight on the carrier which ultimately destroys it

The final battle in this one can be in the reactor
room. Someone can sacrifice themself there and blow
up the reactor.
The carrier can be sailing and not anchored ‘cause
that would spice things up a bit. I think Mathcounts
can die here. They can all hold hands and destroy the
reactor together, sacrificing their lives for the greater
good.

Seaworld? YES We use the tall skyride thingy ooh people could fall
from that

Lethalland? YES The roller coasters could do like a jousting sort of

thing. More Ninjago? Lethal Friends?

Carmel Valley Library YES We could do a sort of trench warfare sort of thing in
the shelves with shotguns and mustard gas. Ethan
Song plays the piano for us all.

Yes CVMS army gladiator elite battles Typical attack/defense: sniper towers, battle rams,
? take our best soliders and pit them against each machine guns, etc things like army vs army one
other offense one defense
Why would we do that? A bisai
Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do in the middle of
a war...
I have an idea it’ll be a rainbow six siege 5 v 5 elite
house fight
I’ll pretend I knew what you said. :)

iFly Airfight Yes Modified air tube expanded to the size of a football
field, and bullets curve up as shot, just full on combat
in the tunnel, no rules applied.

72
 San Diego Zoo YES Safari battle we could ride lions and tigers and white
rhinos and stuff and it will be glorious. They also
have that tram across the park that we could shoot
from or something

Yaj calls dibs on riding on a polar bear with a panda

on his shoulders. But that would mean Xi Jinping
would get mad at Yaj for laying a finger on his panda.

Meh the placement of the plot is not very good and
the idea is pretty bland and overused, I suggest a
new one
Yeah idk about this one
What new scenarios could this one offer aside from
mindless violence?
Game show and chick magnet powers, Bruce versus
PTMS jock
So a bruce redemption thing?
We could do that with him facing a line of tanks on
the Coronado Bridge
Like a game of Machine gun hide and seek; strategic
placements of fighters, rooftops, frags, smokes, lots of
tension as you don’t know who’s around the corner.
CSGO Basically?
Wait we could actually do a bomb defusal sort of
thing.
^ bomb defusal idea is good, we should be
stereotypically tied to metal pipes/ other stuff as half of
us cry about dying and the other half try to stop the
bomb

Coronado bridge/hotel Have a classic gun fight on the bridge, then move to
fight on the island. Plane bombs the bridge destroying
it.
We could split up and some creepy The Shining style
horror stuff can happen. Combine with the Coronado
bridge?

20% of scioly people suicide bomb PTMS. Actually this is the best plan but the appropriate rating
for this will be so messed up

Characters to use:
RIZZO THE RAT
Nivi
Inchara (give sharp umbrella as weapon) (u guys already used me so no point now)
Anlin
Ada

73
Ashmita
Karen Bei
Emily Park
Andrew li
William Ren gets kidnapped
Jonathan Xue tries to save William, fails, but his life is spared.
Because we’re nice <3 <3 <3
PLANNED DEATHS:
Lil Rizzo: Rizzo the Rat ambushes the CVMS army, but Lil Rizzo fights him, sacrificing himself to protect the
others and taking Rizzo the Rat with him
Jacopo: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Elliott: Erica shows up, playing the flute, and the two go on a mission to infiltrate PTMS. Unfortunately, they
are caught and Elliott dies protecting Erica as they try to escape (Erica escapes).
Erica’s Wife”: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Larry: Larry plans a suicide mission for himself and divorces Angelina to stop her from being sad when he dies.
He uses his small size to sneak into PTMS and ambushes _____ (someone important I haven't decided who).
He is immediately killed by _____’s guards but manages to take _____ with him. Angelina laughs.
Lil Liu: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Lil Larry: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Lil Lucas: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Aidisheng: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Aidi: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
ED: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Addi: Addi rushes Tony’s ghost after he kills Edison and tries to kill him, but can’t because Tony’s a ghost and
can pass through anything that won’t completely cover him. He dodges Tony’s next bullet and lures him into a
hole, trapping him. Ethan snipes Addi as he tries to fly away, and leaves Tony to suffer in the hole for all eternity
after failing to find him.
Edie: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Special Ed: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Edison: Ethan’s ghost appears and tries sniping Angelina to spite Edison as she is taking Chloe, Jeslyn, and Emily
back to base. Edison somehow appears and deflects the bullet with his bulletproof hat, but dies when Tony’s
ghost shoots him in the back as Angelina flees. Actually he just gets executed
Eric: Eric appears after Hands captures Hans and chases him down, freeing Hans and killing Hands, but dies in
the process.
Teddy: hmm idk yet
Byan: hmm idk yet
Jeck: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
Nathan: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win.
A R S A: Sacrifices himself in the final battle, allowing CVMS to win. Methcounts people are bad

cover
should i add guns to the cover or no mostly this is me monologuing but i think guns would disrupt
the minimalist presentation of the cover hmm no guns i think

If you want I can get archit to react to this and that might give you guys some good ideas. Either way it’ll be
funny

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Random ideas from last years scioly team:

Archit and Amogh betray CVMS because it is now ruled by mango empire (surya head coach) instead of lemon
republic (sachin head coach) which then means members of previous scioly state team (2018-2019) might
reappear either as lemonists or mangoists

ANDREW LI ???!??!!!? pog stephen xu vs andrew li and coronavirus he is the plaguebearer of corona (stephen
xu used hand sanitizer against andrew li during english class in chemical warfare)
Screw it andrew li doesn’t side with anyone he just wants to infect everyone with his coronavirus and kill the
whole world

75
LODGING AND YAJ FOR PRESIDENT HE DOES NOT WANT TO INVADE CANADA but I
do- Hans

76