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Rated: 18+ · Campfire Creative · Novella · Animal · #2030366
On an alternate earth where animals speak, a world at war!
[Introduction]
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Erda is an alternate earth populated by anthros and animals. There are no humans. Each species has its own language but there is a worldwide language called Erdese that many animals can also speak.

Theoretically, everyone on Erda is a vegetarian, but there are lots of backsliders who eat meat if they think they can get away with it. There are heavy penalties if you are caught doing it.

When the story begins the wolves and the rats are at war with each other and have been for centuries, but sometimes there are periods of relative peace.

If you write in a character who speaks more than a few lines, give that character a name, please! And a species.

Characters (in order of appearance)
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Geenzo, rat, a spy
Squeaky, rat, young camp follower
Amos Cheesemouth, rat, commander of the rat army
Saluk Lobo, wolf, commander of the Wolf army
Vile McFly, housefly, arms dealer
Buzzy, housefly, secretary to Vile McFly
Fallow, mouse, king of the mouse tribe
Aunt May, mouse, Fallow's aunt
Randy Catcher, frog, president of the United Species of America
Charlemagne, lion, old USA secretary of defense
Scarlet, black widow spider, assassin
Lenny, gorilla, security guard for Fallow
Cletus Swinton, pig, hogmaster of the hog horde
General Steed, leader of the horse brigade
Tad Pooky, mouse, leader of the mice army sent to America
Jawbar Cruncher, alligator, new USA secretary of defense
Chief Five Legs, alligator, commander of the Amazonian gators
William "Bill" Roughskin, alligator, spy for the USA
Tombo, elephant, shaman in Congolo
Snowene, arctic tern, agent for Tombo
Jaw Jaw Blue, shark, ambassador

The WAR Plan
____________________________
Florida ... Commander Saluk Lobo ... wolves
Georgia, Carolina ... General Amos Cheesemouth ... rats
Mississippi ... Hogmaster Cletus Swinton ... pigs
Louisiana, Texas ... General Rapido Steed ... horses
Reserves ... Mouseketeer Tad Pooky ... mice

President of United Species of America ... Randy Catcher ... frog
Secretary of Defense ... Jawbar Cruncher ... alligator


CHAPTERS (clickable links)
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Chapter 1: The Wolf Rat War
Chapter 2: The Gator Invasion
Chapter 3: The Florida Campaign
Chapter 4: Snowene and McFly
Chapter 5: The Tide Turns

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Chapter 1: The Wolf Rat War

Somewhere in Bulgaria...

Geenzo the rat put down the pair of binoculars he had been using to view the plains below. "Tell General Cheesemouth the wolves are on the move."

"Yessir!" said Squeaky, a young rat in a raggedy cast-off uniform.

"Don't sir me," Geenzo said. "I'm not an officer in the army. I'm freelance."

"You're one of our spies, ain't ya?" said Squeaky, his eyes shining bright.

"You just run along and get that message to the general. Fast!"
(Say, do you got a brief history as it were, like, what's the cause of the war? Also, is the Food Chain in effect, as in do Wolf Anthros eat Rat Anthros, or whatever?)

Meanwhile, the wolves were busy with their own plans.
[The wolf/rat conflict is like the Israeli/Arab conflict. It's been going on for centuries and it looks senseless to outsiders, but it has meaning for the wolves and rats. They hate each other. A wolf would never eat a rat. Or a rat a wolf. The idea would turn their stomach. I put more about food and war in the header.]

General Cheesemouth tapped his desk with one claw while he stared out the window and digested Squeaky's message. "On the move, he says? What the hell does that mean? Attack imminent? Minor change in position of troops? Go tell Geenzo he better learn how to send a decent report that actually has some information in it."

"Yessir!" Squeaky said.
(I don't picture wolves eating spinach, or anything like it, too well.)

"Alright," said the wolf commander, as he and other officers looked at a map, showing rat and wolf positions. "The enemy has troops here, here, and here. Divisions Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie shall engage them, while being assisted by Divisions Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot. While this is going on, Divisions Golf, Hotel, and India will sneak around from the North, while Divisions Juliet, Kilo, and Lima do the same from the South." He began moving positions around. "They are to surround the enemy, pound them into submission, and then we'll move on to the next phase of the plan."
(The Carnivores could be eating Eternity Fruit like in the Animal Land Manga http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Manga/AnimalLand)

Meanwhile there Arms Dealer for both conflicts, The House Flies, were counting the money they borth got from the recent profits

"101...102..." Counted Vile McFly

Just then a Fly Secretary Buzzy came in "Sir...We're getting calls from the United Species of America...There going to crack down on us..."

(Or they could eat meat substitutes like soy protein, tofu and so forth. They make some pretty good imitation meat out of soy.)

Squeaky was breathless as he told Geenzo what General Cheesemouth had said.

"That old blowhard!" Geenzo said. "Tell him it looks like the wolves are trying to surround us again."

"Can they do that?" Squeaky asked.

"They can try but we have a million rat holes to use for escapes. That's the problem with wolf strategy. They think like they are fighting wolves with a few dens and territory to protect. But we are rats. We'll just move and we have a thousand paths to move on."

Squeaky gave General Cheesemouth the message. Cheesemouth nodded. "When the wolves get here all they will find is rubbish and litter. Bugler, sound the Call for Assembly."

TA-DAAAA! TA-DAAAAA!

Houseflies flew up in alarm. "Uh oh, looks like our meal ticket is on the move again."
One of the wolf officers was talking to the wolf commander. "Sir, you do realize that the rats are known for their network of tunnels."

"I took that into consideration," said the Commander. "The rats will retreat to their main base through those tunnels. That being said, the troops have special orders to allow this to happen. The troops are to deploy special smoke grenades. This special smoke will encourage these rats to retreat, and meet in one place. After that, we'll offer terms."

"You're going to allow them to surrender?" the officer asked. "Why not rush in and kill them?"

"And lose a lot of good men? Waste of lives," said the Commander. "Corner a rat in one place, and he'll turn into a tiger, and while he might die, so could you. Better that we offer them terms, ones in our favor of course, than to try to kill them, and potentially weaken us to an invasion from another country. After all, we must think about them as well - the United Species of America would not be willing to trade with us if we committed Genocide, and their Rat population might urge the country towards war, as would their Wolf population."

"Why should we worry about them?" the officer asked. "They think that they are the world's police force, or something. That, and they are always fighting with each other."

"Yes, but they have a motto of sorts - Mess with One of Us, the Rest of Us will Mess with You!," said the Commander. "Normally, they will argue over anything with each other, but if they face a common threat, they will unite, and forge an almost unstoppable force, that would wipe us out."
Meanwhile Vile told Buzzy to call their donors to make sure they could keep supplying weapons to the Wolves and the Rats.

Meanwhile in America a secretary in the White House, a Field Mouse named Fallow got a call. It was from one of her relatives who lived in Bulgaria, one of the Rat Controlled territories.

"The War has forced us off our lands." Said one of her Aunts "Every creature that's not a Rat or a Wolf has been forced to leave or face extinction..."

"That's terrible!" Exclaimed Fallow

"And the King of our Tribe passed away...And the Elders decided you are the new leader." Said Aunt May

Just then the President walked in, current President of the United Species was a Frog named Randy Catcher the first Amphibian Prsident
"I've got to hang up now, Aunt May," said Fallow. "The president of the United Species of America just walked in."

"Be nice to him!" Aunt May said. "Remember, you are king of the mouse tribe now."

Fallow hung up and shook hands with Randy Catcher. "Welcome, Mister President!"

"I'm here to congratulate you," President Randy said, "and to plot strategy with you. This war has got to end."

"But the mice are not fighting, sir. It's the rats and the wolves."

"I know that, but public opinion matters and we have to put pressure on them to declare a ceasefire."


At rat headquarters Squeaky said, "It's another phone call from Randy Catcher."

General Cheesemouth gritted his teeth. "Peace! Peace! Peace! That's all that man can think of. As if the United Species aren't a bunch of warmongers themselves. What hypocrites! Hello? President Randy? Yes, we are always thinking about peace but these wolves are on the move. We are only exercising our right to defend ourselves. Do you want us to roll over and die?"
"I have nothing against you defending yourselves," said President Randy. "But I'm getting reports of civilians getting caught in the line of fire, that's the problem. My people don't like that."
"You're right; attacks on civilians are horrible depredations and illegal under international war rules," Said Cheesemouth smoothly. "I have assured the Security Council and am confident of my ability to do so again; that the Rat Army takes the matter very seriously. All criminal activity in the ranks is ferreted out and dealt with in a timely mater.
         In fact, respecting helpless non-combatants living in contested zones is one of the key reasons we continue our struggle against the Wolves. The depravity and sadism of their crimes against everyone unable to resist them has been well-documented."

"I see." Said Randy drily. "Be that as it may, I may be forced to withhold my nation's supplies of equipment, military or otherwise, unless public opinion on the subject improves. There is no guarantee people won't connect it with the civilian death toll."
Randy hung up the phone.

"This is not going to be easy." The Frog said

(Author's Note: I agree Fallow is King but Fallow is female, making her a Female King...Based on True story)

Fallow rubbed her temples "How am I supposed to do anything? I have no experience in leading! And they're across the ocean in freaking Bulgaria!"

"I'm going to call our Secretary of defense." Said Randy

Said Secretary was a Lion who was in the midst of his massage when the call came
"Hello, Charlemagne?" Randy said.

"What is it?" said the old lion. "I'm in the middle of something important."

"Weapons design? Logistics planning? Assessment of troop strengths?"

"No, a seriously good back rub, if you must know. You wouldn't believe the hands on this ape. She used to be a wrestler. She really knows how to get into those muscles. Ouch! Easy there, Bertha."

Randy shook his head sadly. Good bureaucrats were hard to find and Charlemagne was not one of them. "Listen, Charlie, the reason I called, it's about this wolf and rat war."

"Forget the wolves and rats! They will be fighting until the end of time. Always have. Always will."

"We still have to try to find peace, Charlie. Heads up, there is a new king of the mice. Her name is Fallow."

"A female king?"

"They tell me it's possible. You know what? I think I'll call the wolves myself. What's their commander's name?"

"How should I know?"

"Charlie, you're the secretary of defense!"
At this time, the Wolf Commander was busy writing a letter to his wife.

Dear Fifi,

Some of my men question my tactics. Some of my officers wish to kill every rat they encounter. In many ways, I sympathize with them, what with my own brother haven been slain by those rats during the last war. I can understand them.

However, this fighting must end some time, and the best way to do that is to keep innocents out of the fight. I have given my men strict orders not to harm noncombatants. If my army were to give into such tactics, we would be the very monsters the Rats try to paint us to be. The outside world would be against us, even more than they currently are. As it is, I do not wish for the United Species of America to enter the conflict, especially against us. One only needs to look at history to see their power, which is great, even if it has waned in recent decades, but they are like a sleeping tiger - provoke them, and your belly will be torn open, your face scratched, and your ears yanked.

Thus, I have decided to let the rats surrender on reasonable terms, should we get them to the treaty table, to spare us more bloodshed. My men don't like it, but sometimes one must swallow their pride, to avoid provoking a more dangerous foe.

Faithfully yours,
Saluk Lobo


He then had it sealed, and put in with the rest of the mail the troops were sending back to loved ones.
At the scattered rat encampments, grenades flew, caustic smoke rising in clouds. Squeaking and scurrying, rodents scattered from their positions, leaping down bolt-holes and squeezing through minute tunnels to escape the bombardment. The entire army seemed to melt into the bedrock like water poured into a sieve, and in about as much time, too. Or so did most of the terrified rodents; others scampered about in confusion and panic, banging on trapdoor after trapdoor for an escape.

In the acidic smog and choking gas, huge shapes moved, fur spiked where it protruded from between the joints of camouflaged body armour. Canid snouts snarled, hidden under alien gas-masks, and bandoliers of ammunition tinkled with every rhythmic pound of combat-boot to stone. Coughing and dazzled, the straggling rodents hardly had time to yell as the wolves vaulted the dug-outs.

Without bothering for bullets, combat knives, hatchets, and bayonets hacked and hammered, pulping bones and butchering rodents left and right. Fists popped skulls and jackboots snapped knees as the canids fell into their element. And as rats scurried and struggled uselessly, falling without so much time as to squeak, the song of the fighting pack rose over the dying screams of rats in a chorus of triumphant howls.

At a secure command post kilometres away, Commander Lobo's nose twitched as the scent of battle arrived on the wind. Blood and bile, marrow and gut-acid, pus and shit- it was a testament to the experienced officer's self-control that he wasn't openly panting and salivating as many of his staff were.

"Sir; the rats are falling back through their tunnels. The forward positions are ours. Resistance and casualties light." Said a messenger excitedly.

"Good." Feigning professional disinterest, Lobo stared intently down at the map without seeing it. "Make sure nobody goes in after them; those warrens are damnably cramped. Have all divisions establish a perimeter around the rats's main base; it's the only location where they'll retreat to."

Fallow was busy making phone calls to as many people as possible, trying to get connections to stop the war.

Suddenly her Mouse ears caught a sound most Animals wouldn't have heard, she heard the sounds of a Spider breathing.

With that she leaped just in time before a Black Widow dropped on her.

Instantly Secret Service was there, a Rhino and Gorilla wrestled the Spider to the ground

"Who sent you?!" Yelled Fallow

The Black Widow looked at Fallow and said "Vile McFly and the Fly Clan..."

"Typical Spiders..." Said Lenny the Gorilla "No integrity at all...None."
"I want those houseflies exterminated!" Fallow yelled.

"Your highness," said Lenny, "with all due respect. You are asking the impossible. Houseflies are one of the oldest species on the planet. Their survival ability is immense, much greater than mice or gorillas."

"I'll give you gorillas - it's a wonder they aren't already extinct - but don't sell mice short. We know how to survive!"


At the war front, General Cheesemouth was in conference with his rat staff. "What's your assessment, Colonel Tailwhacker?"

The big-chested rat tapped the map with a pointer stick. "The wolves have taken Camp Buttermilk and now have us surrounded. Our losses are light... so far."

"What does that 'so far' mean?"

"It means the slaughter will be terrible if the wolves close in."

"I recommend we surrender," said Major Muenster.

"Surrender! What are you saying?"

"At the last peace conference I had a chance to talk quite a bit with Saluk Lobo. I think he's a reasonable man. It's a way to preserve our army. No need for thousands of rats to die unnecessary deaths."

"You're getting soft, Muenster," said General Cheesemouth. "But since you know Lobo, put out the white flags and go talk with him."
Saluk was busy looking at the battle log. While there were those of his rank who didn't care about such things, like the number of Missing, Wounded, or Killed, or how the soldiers acquired their injuries, he did. He also gathered statistics on the enemy slain or captured, the injuries they had, and so forth.

Saluk then paused at one picture, it was of a rat taken captive during the fighting. Saluk frowned as he noted the injuries; busted jaw, arms, legs, ribs, tail. Either the rat had been a tough fighter, or someone got carried away. The first was understandable, as no one would wish to surrender to the enemy without a fight, but the second spoke of a lack of discipline, and that was something Saluk could not afford to have.

Saluk picked up the phone. "I wish to see the prisoners, and I'm going to bring in a team of medics to check on them. Any issues with that?"

"Um, no," came the reply.

"Good." Saluk hung up the phone. Some protocol was always needed.
"Thank-you, sir!" Said the Major, grabbing a pure white flag from a chest, obviously relieved to know this wasn't about to become a last-stand.

"Hold," Said a rat in the corner, trench-coat rustling as he gently producing a blunt nosed side-arm. "Surrender of complete armed forces amounting to more than 8 Divisions is illegal under Section 32a of Article 12. I must prevent all attempts at parlay with the enemy. Forcefully if necessary."

"Commissar, this isn't the time for this!" Said Major Muenster. "We are surrounded! The possibility of complete annihilation -while inflicting only a an extremely few losses on our enemy, I might add- grows closer every second! A dead army's no use to anyone!"

"He's got a point, Major," Said General Cheesemouth. "Commissar, where positions are occupied by the enemy divisions?"

"Steinback Ridge, Kleisten Hill, and Hill 121," Said the rat smartly. "They are natural fortifications what would be extremely hard to dislodge anyone from." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Why is why I recommend removing them immediately."

"Speak sense!" Snapped Colonel Tailwhacker.

"The reason we've taken casualties at all, gentlemen," Said the General calmly. "Is because unlucky soldiers in each unit were not informed of the retreat in advance. It was deliberately made to look disorderly. The wolves have duly encircled us, homing in on the best positions available -and so have occupied our Mines." He pulled a detonator out of a deep pocket. "I hope you'll forgive the secrecy. Have all troops prepare to break out to the north-east."
***
Commander Lobo's vehicle was en route to the surrender, when the two partially-fortified hills visible ahead ....vanished. They simply went sky-high in a cloud of dust and flame, taking divisions Hotel, India, and Alpha with them. As rats emerged from their hiding holes close to the lines in a spray of buck-shot and grenades, as wolves died in droves, the Commander blinked owlishly.

Fallow locked herself in her room after her blow up, The Black Widow Scarlet was being Questioned
"What's the big deal?" Scarlet said.

Lenny the gorilla slapped her. "The big deal is you tried to kill our king."

"So? That's what I do. Kill. I get paid to do it. Just like you get paid to ask your stupid questions."

"And you're going to give me some answers," Lenny said.


At the war front, Commander Lobo was coughing dust. "Treachery! I thought the rats might try some trick. This is more than I expected. Can you turn this thing around?"

"Yessir," said his driver. "It's still operable."


At rat headquarters, Major Muenster was furious. "What the hell, General? You send me out under truce flags to parlay for surrender and then you try to blow up Commander Lobo? It's stuff like this that gives rats a bad reputation."

General Cheesemouth clicked his tongue. "Bah! We'd have the reputation no matter what we did. That Commander Lobo has more lives than a cat. Why is he still alive? Tailwhacker! How did you screw this up?"

Colonel Tailwhacker shrugged. "Just bad timing. I'll have the rat who triggered the detonators executed."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. You triggered them yourself."

"Oh. You saw that. But we can't have the men thinking I don't know how to set off a bomb properly. It's best to blame it on one of the troops."

General Cheesemouth folded his hands. "We might have to do that, but not for your reason. I don't want Commander Lobo to think we tried to kill him."

"Who cares what he thinks?"

"Colonel. Shut up. We have to have a long-term strategy. Muenster, you apologize to Commander Lobo and explain that it was rogue elements in our organization that blew up those positions. Tell him we're dealing with the rogues now and we are still interested in discussing a ceasefire."

"A surrender, sir."

"Call it a ceasefire. We can bargain from there."

At that moment a sergeant from the radio room ran in, breathless with his news. "General Cheesemouth! There are rumors of alligators invading all along the Southern coast of the USA!"

"Invading? Alligators already live there."

"These are thousands more, sir! From Amazonia, they say."

Cheesemouth pointed out the door. "Get back to the radio room and find out what you can."

The General looked around and saw Major Muenster. "Muenster, why haven't you left yet? Go convince Lobo we're well-meaning!"

"Yessir!"

Once again, Saluk was looking over the figures of Missing, Wounded, and Dead.

"So, are were going to storm their base?" One of the officers asked.

"Actually, I'm going to call in a more Neutral part to investigate this incident," said Saluk. "Attacking while flying a Flag of Truce is against the Rules of War. We would not gain any favor by attacking the Rats over what they might claim to be acts perpetrated by rogue elements of their forces. Instead, have someone, like the USA, to investigate it, and bring the perpetrators to justice in an International Court."

"Why involve them?" the officer asked.

"Makes the outside world more friendly with us, more willing to trade, or come during the Tourist Season."
"Your Highness!" Lenny bruised his fist knocking on Fallow's door, and narrowly avoided hitting his liege when it soon opened.

"What is it, Lenny? I thought I asked not to be disturbed." She sounded tired.

"This is important, Your Highness! The United Species are under attack! Enemies are pouring in all along the south coast and the land bridge to Amazonia!"

"Amazonia's not even populated," Frowned Fallow. "Which country is it?"

"Nobody we recognize. Apparently it's more populated than we realized, Ma'am."
"Get me Randy Catcher!" Fallow said "He's still the President, I'm only King of a Single Mouse Tribe!"

The Frog and the Mouse sat together in silence.

"My first day as King has blown up in my face." Sighed Fallow

"Let's not despair...I do have resources." Said Randy

Just as he said that out of the Shadows came cloaked figures Three of them

"These are a few of my Ninja Raccoons." Said Randy "Taught the ways of Ninjitsu from Japanese Frogs."
"I am going to assign them to you as your personal bodyguards," Randy said.

Fallow smiled. "Thank you. You are a good friend. Is it true what I heard about an alligator invasion?"

"Yes, I am afraid it is. From Texas to Florida to North Carolina, boatloads of Amazonian alligators, armed to the teeth, are coming ashore."

"That's awful! You seem pretty calm about it," Fallow said.

"Inside I am a maelstrom of emotions," Randy said, "but I must not let fear and anxiety rise to the surface. I am the president. I must remain calm. Now, if you will excuse me. I have to get back to an emergency meeting to deal with the crisis."

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Chapter 2: The Gator Invasion

General Cheesemouth listened carefully to his radio rat's report. "So it's true then. The homeland is under attack. This makes our disagreement with the wolves look petty, doesn't it? While wolves and rats bicker, the United Species is up to it's knees in gators. I must talk to Commander Lobo right away. Surely he is aware of the gator invasion by now."

Saluk was soon reading the reports. "Something is going on here."
General Cheesmoth was pacing once again, in his familiar groove in the bunker.

"Now that the war has- stalemated," He wasn't about to actually call it a defeat. "If we give aid to the United Species now, will they help us in bargaining with the wolves later? If they're willing, we had better start before the Wolves do so they know who their real friends are."
Meanwhile President Catcher was talking with Charlemagne.

"What's the situation in Florida?" Asked the President

"Terrible Sir." Said the Lion "General Steed of the Horse Brigade, says that several of the Citizens have been executed and dozens of Females and Cubs are being held hostage."

"I have good news," said Randy Catcher, the newly elected president of the United Species of America. Indeed, happiness sparkled in his jewel-like frog eyes. "The wolves and the rats have declared a truce with each other and are sending their best people here to help in the fight against the gators."

"That is good news," said Charlemagne, the decadent old lion who served as Randy's secretary of defense.

"Yes, the rat forces will be commanded by General Amos Cheesemouth and the wolf army will be led by Commander Saluk Lobo."

"How can we lose?" Charlemagne said.

"And now for the bad news. I'm replacing you as secretary of defense. Please submit your resignation immediately."

"But sir!" Charlemagne sputtered. "What have I done wrong? Have I offended you in some way?"

"I think it was that massage during your phone call."

"Huh?" Charlemagne tried to think of which phone call and which massage. There were dozens of them. But Randy was already gently pushing him out the door.


In Mouseland, Bulgaria, Fallow sat quietly while her maid brushed her hair. "You know, Marissa, I think the mice should send some troops to help fight against the Gator Invasion.

Marissa tittered. She was used to having Fallow think out loud around her. But this was very funny. "Mouse troops, m'lady?! Hee hee!"

Fallow grabbed Marissa's wrist. "Why do you laugh? Do you think mice cannot fight?"
Meanwhile President Catcher was trying to find hos new Secretary of Defense with his Cabinet.

A Pig Cletus Swinton slammed his trotter on the table.

"We need a strong leader!" Cletus thundered "Someone who will demolish the enemy! Someone who will show no mercy to those cold blooded reptiles."

The Secretary of State, a Tabby Cat named Demeter Verde said "In case you haven't noticed our commander in chief is cold blooded."

Swinton stumbled a bit "I did say cold blooded reptiles...Our president is an amphibian!"

Randy had been watching Swinton for several weeks he had the feeling the Old Hog looked down his Snout at anyone who wasn't a Pig.

"How about we call General Steed of the Horse Brigade?" Asked a Rabbit named Bucky O'Hare
"Why not use someone who knows how the enemy works," wheezed a tired old voice.

From the shadows stepped an old alligator, who wore the uniform of the US Army. The stars on the uniform said that he was a four-star general, and one of the medals on his jacket was reserved for the bravest of the brave, who had been willing to sacrifice their lives for other, the Congressional Medal of Honor.

"What is a gator like you doing here?" squealed Swinton.

The gator glared at the pig. "Would you like to file a case of Species Discrimination against you? I'd probably survive the case better than you. After all, it's not like I'm in the limelight anyway, and I don't have a history of hating other races. The military section of the population might even support an old soldier like me, and even more so due to what I've done for this country." He took off his medal. "Those who earn this medal are given respect by everyone, no matter their rank - a General would salute a Private who had earned one of these, because that Private was willing to sacrifice their life during the situation that granted them the right to wear this medal." The gator looked at the pig. "By showing me disrespect, you show disrespect to the dead who should have gotten this medal, like my son - I wear this in his stead, after he gave his life saving a group of hostages from extremists. Why, I think that one of those hostages was your son."

"General, what would you recommend?" Randy asked.

"The gators are not likely to move farther North - our bodies are not built for the colder temperatures," said the General. "In time, we can push them back - just wait until late Autumn, early Winter to start the Main Offensive. Until then, delay. Keep them tied down. Move the population to the cities, and keep the cities supplied. Once it gets cold, mammals can push them back."
"I like the sound of your recommendations," Randy said. "Gentlemen, I think we have found our new secretary of defense."

"Bucky O'Hare said, "Awww, I wanted it to be General Steed!"

"Who let that rabbit in here?" Demeter Verde looked around but no one admitted to it.

"I'm going, I'm going," said Bucky O'Hare.


The old alligator, General Jawbar Cruncher, immediately called a meeting to discuss war strategy. Attending were General Amos Cheesemouth from the rat army, Commander Saluk Lobo from the wolf army, General Steed from the horse brigade, Hogmaster Cletus Swinton from the hog horde, and all the way from Bulgaria, thanks to King Fallow, Mouseketeer Pooky, leader of a band of mouse troops.

Jawbar wasted no words. "Commander Lobo, I want you to take your wolves to Florida. You have the best army and that's where the gators are thickest. General Cheesemouth, defend the east coast from Georgia to Carolina. General Steed, the gulf coast from Louisiana to Texas. Pigs take Mississippi and mice, help out wherever you are needed."
General Steed nickered "In Florida the Mayor of Miami, a Flamingo named Lily Rose has just been executed, here is the footage on ZooTube."
More than a few of the older soldiers frowned as they watched the footage. It was too horrible for words, even those who had seen a lot of horrific things. There was no honor in the flamingo's death.
"This is the part where the hostage is executed," Said General Steed. On cue, with the long speech over, the flamingo was roughly booted off a stage into a crowd of alligator soldiers. Where she promptly vanished in a mixed spray of feathers and entrails that arced high over the heads of the ecstatic audience.

"Meat eaters!" Cried Hogmaster Swinston. "Bloody savages! I should've suspected as much!"

"Actually," Said General Steed. "They don't appear to have eaten her, only torn her limb from limb. Look! They're tossing in a pre-school now. I can't see any actual consumption of body parts, can you?"

"Well, I suppose not..."

General Crunch coughed very empathetically. "If we can return to matters of strategy, gentlemen, we need to make sure all of our forces are coordinated. The United Species Army will occupy any gaps in between your lines and provide reserves," He looked at Lobo and Cheesemouth. "There should be no reason for any possible former rivalries to come into play now."
Lobo and Cheesemouth exchanged glances. "I foresee no problems," Lobo said.

Within days the defending troops were in position and the alligator advance slowed. Now the gators were fighting for every mile. To add to the horror, it turned out that the gators did indeed eat meat. There was a mass exodus of refugees from the coast into the interior.

General Cruncher conferred with Cheesemouth, Lobo, and the rest. "More bad news, gentlemen. After examining the supplies carried by some gator soldiers we captured, it appears that cold weather will not be a problem for them. They were all equipped with thermal uniforms."

"But how is that possible?" protested General Steed. "These gators are Amazonian barbarian savages that eat meat! Where are they getting this sophisticated military equipment?"

"I didn't say the thermal uniforms were sophisticated. They are handmade from leather and feathers, but they seem to be effective. And don't forget it was barbarians who conquered the Roman Empire. Let's not get too cocky because we are the civilized ones. That does not guarantee us a victory."

Jawbar paused to take a deep gulp of hot coffee. "Now let's hear some reports. General Lobo, how goes the war in Florida?"
"Not so good," said Lobo. "The swamps in some of the areas are difficult to navigate, and the guides who do know the area tend to be noncombatants who are afraid of anyone in an uniform. Also, the gators like to hide in the murky waters before launching ambushes. My men could use some of your gators to help counter such attacks, and in navigating the area."
"We may need to call in our secret weapon." Said Jawbar "The Fish Armies! They can breathe underwater."
"Actually, sir, the Fish Armies were all eaten by the Gator fleet while repelling the invasion on the East Coast." Said an orderly primly.

"Damn." Said Cruncher. "Okay, new plan. The enemy is still receiving reinforcements from Amazonia. We had intended to cut the chain with our Fish Armies, but they apparently won't be back in fighting shape for a while. Instead, we'll have to consolidate our lines and then slowly grind our way back down to the south coast. In light of that, how is the war going on the other fronts?"

"The enemy has made a few probes on the East Coast," Said Cheesemouth. "But after the Fish Navy met them head on and kicked their teeth in, they seem reluctant to try a second large landing."

"As I said, our intelligence in Florida is rather limited, as our sentries and patrols keep getting ambushed," Said Lobo. "We are establishing a blockade around the northern end of the Florida Peninsula, but it will take time. The Gators are demonstrating a remarkable ability to penetrate our line to harass the construction crews working on the strong-points."

"Mississippi is swamped with refugees!" Said Cletus. "Shelter is inadequate, and food riots have broken out. Many of the displaced harass military supply convoys, and their sheer numbers clog up all available roads and are over-taxing the utilities in cities." He grunted in annoyance. "The front is stable and relatively quiet, at the moment, but I fear what may happen if the gators should find themselves trapped in Florida and attempt to stage a landing there instead. Indeed, simply the very presence of so many bodies -just so many pre-stockpiled field rations, by their standards- may begin to draw them in."

"I see. What about, you General Steed?" Asked Crunch. "Are you forces holding?"

"The enemy may be highly experienced in jungle warfare and well suited for urban combat," Said Steed. "But they do seem to lack much in the way of an airforce or armour. If the enemy puts a toe in the wide open spaces of the south, our tanks'll slash it off."

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Chapter 3: The Florida Campaign


One week later General Lobo had installed strong defensive positions at Panama City and Jacksonville. But by then the gators had overrun the Keys, taken Miami and Tampa, and eaten all the fish in Lake Okeechobee.

To add insult to injury, they had declared Disneyworld a "Free Workers Park" and were allowing anyone to enter without paying admission. Not that there were many locals left. There was stream of them heading north as refugees from the war. But off duty Gator soldiers packed It's A Small World After All, often sinking the boats by overcrowding them.

The barbarian gators from Amazonia were an unruly mob, but they were being held together in a coherent army by their chief, Five Legs. Deformed at birth, Chief Five Legs had used his extra leg to advantage, motivating himself to win the many fights he got into when the other gator boys mocked his deformity. Eventually he defeated everyone and became chief. That's when he hatched his bold plan to conquer the world, starting with the United Species of America.

General Jawbar Cruncher put down the report he had been reading. "There you have it, Lobo. Why we are at war. Being a gator myself, I understand this Five Legs fellow a little better than you do. He will never quit or surrender. Our only hope is to find him and kill him. I feel sure his gator army will collapse without him to lead it."
"We'll probably have to do that," said Lobo. "And don't forget the first hundred after him in the Chain of Command."
Meanwhile in the town of Baltimare, where General Steed's family lived, the 16 year old Filly Daisy Steed was listening to her favorite Rock Band from Pacifica Outback, when her Mom came in the room.

"Turn on the TV." She neighed in a serious voice

"On the TV, there were reports that the Gators were Planning to commit Genocide against the Flamingos, to wipe out the entire species.

"What do the Gators have against the Flamingos?" Daisy asked

"I don't know..." Said Mrs. Steed but this may be crucial to why they have invaded this land...I must tell Stanley..." He must know about this."

General Steed picked up the Phone "Violet...This isn't the time..."

"Reports on the TV got footage of the Gators plotting genocide against Flamingos." Said Mrs. Steed
In the simmering wasteland of Florida, where Wolf and Gator patrols clashed on a daily basis along the fluid front-line, it was bad day to be a flamingo. Huge numbers of civilians had been trapped behind enemy lines, and they immediately began to harass the invaders with partisan attacks and slip information to USA forces. And immediately after that, it was determined that the Gators viewed most of their new subjects as less captives and servants and more as livestock. Intending to eat them all anyway, there was little compunction for the invaders not to butcher scores of innocents in retaliation for one act of harassment.

Herded out of the vulnerable cities and into crude camps in the Everglades, hunger, exposure, sickness, and insects were fast wearing down morale. In many such camps, this was being used to the occupier's advantage.

"Loaf of bread!" Called a Gator, shoving through the crowd of filthy refugees with less regard than was usually reserved for cattle. "One loaf of bread for whoever comes up with a flamingo!" From out of lean-tos and tree-houses, hundreds of eyes watched the rare object, enthralled by that perfect white fluffy hunk of calories. The only reason the Gator wasn't being swarmed already was because of the universal knowledge that the troublesome thralls were the ones eaten first every day.

Still, in almost no time, desperate families were producing a steady stream of the protesting birds so requested, gladly pocketing the food in exchange for their compatriots.
Secretary Cruncher and President Randy were discussing the war. "Did you read the report on the flamingo eating?" Cruncher asked.

"I read it," said Catcher. "Correct me if I am wrong but the conclusion seemed to be that gators eat flamingos because they taste good."

"Yes. Apparently there is a gland in the flamingo that gives it a flavor a gator cannot resist."

Catcher sighed. "So now they will eat all the flamingos. Have you made any progress inserting American gators as spies in the Amazonian gator army?"

"They detected the first ones very quickly. It's not easy getting the speech accent right. And of course any little behavior that is wrong ruins the subterfuge. But I think we've found a USA gator who can pull this off."

"The one who lived in Amazonia for three years?"

"Yes!" Cruncher said. "A plane crash. He was just a child. The Amazonians killed his parents, but they spared him. Fortunately, we were finally able to rescue him three years later. But by then he was talking like an Amazonian."

"Which is something that will come in very handy now, eh? What's his name?"

"William Roughskin. Likes to be called Bill."


At that moment, Bill Roughskin was eating a flamingo. He had slipped behind enemy lines and joined a gator army outfit by claiming to be a survivor of a wolf attack on his own unit. He spoke as little as possible and listened closely for any hint about where Chief Five Legs might be.
"Crazy times," said Lobo, as he read the reports. "One war after another."
Meanwhile Vile McFly was busy counting his money

"Excellent..." He buzzed to himself "...At this rate, all other Animals will kill themselves off and we Flies will be the only ones left just like it was in the beginning of time!"
Bill Roughskin was on the move. While taking the task of snacking down on flamingoes to retain his cover with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary, the gator was a dedicated soldier. Five-Legs was rumoured to be setting up shop in the Keys, and Bill was making good time in that direction.
Bill Roughskin was south of Miami when he hit his first complication. A guard at a roadblock asked him where he was going and he said to Key West. Turns out one of the first things Chief Five Legs had done was rename Key West to First Landing. In fact, the full name now was First Landing of the Amazonian Empire in America. Every gator knew that. Except Bill Roughskin.

Luckily for Bill, the guard had frowned and said, "Don't you mean First Landing?"

Bill, being quick on his feet, had immediately agreed. "Sure! I forgot!" But he had made the guard suspicious and now Bill had to endure a closer inspection. To cover his trip, Bill had stolen a truckload of chickens. If the theft had already been reported and the guard knew about it, he might make the connection that Bill was not what he seemed.

Bill sat in the guardhouse, waiting, sweating, trying to appear calm and unconcerned, until finally in the afternoon the guard waved him on. But he couldn't help but wonder what message might have been sent on ahead: Watch out for the guy in the chicken truck.
"I hope your agent is good," said Lobo. "We can't have a slip-up in this situation."
Meanwhile one of the Flamingo resistance Fighters Pinky Tuscenaro was sliding her thin body under some barbed wire, she had to escape and get information back to the armies!
The flamingo carefully crawled under the fence, down the low embankment, and into the swamp. Before she knew it, she was waist-deep in brackish water, with trees towering all around, branches forming a dense canopy overhead. The lines of plants stretched off in all directions, seeming to go on forever even as they were lost in the gloom.

The camps were almost completely unguarded, and with good reason. Beyond was nothing but endless, identical kilometres of dense swamp with nothing but the odd patch of quicksand, aggressive wildlife, or hungry Gator patrol to drive away the monotony. She wouldn't be able to take wing for quite a while; the birds who had already tried had been shot down in droves.

Refusing to sigh, the partisan set off, mucking her way through the hostile marshland.
Pinky Tuscenaro stepped on a log and it growled at her. Oh no! A gator. But it was an American gator. "Why the hell is one lonely flamingo tramping through the jungle by herself?"

"I'm a resistance fighter," Pinky said.

"Ah! Keep up the good work. I have to warn you there is an Amazon patrol in the area. Stay alert."

"I will," Pinky said. "Why are you still here? Aren't you afraid of being killed or captured?"

"I was born in this swamp," said the gator. "Lived here all my life. I'll be damned if I'm running away now. I'm pretty good at hiding when I need to be."
Meanwhile in Congolo there was talk among the Wild Creatures.

"The Alligators are spurred on by the Housefly Arms Dealers..." Said Hufsa the Rhinoceros "...The Flies plan the launch Multiple Wars to eliminate all species that are not flies."

"They want to feast on our corpses!" Cried Acacia the Giraffe

Wise Tombo the Elephant...The Wisest Shaman in all of Congolo stroked his Trunk.

"These wars must stop..." Tombo said "...In order to bring peace to this world, the Animals must see how destructive their fighting is and how they are being manipulated by the Flies...I must consult the Spirits."
Soon, angry mobs were spreading throughout Congolo, squishing flies wherever they could find them. The ethnic violence was nothing new, but the bulk of the Peacekeepers from the Universal Sapients (US) had been recalled to their donor countries. With wars in the United Species and unrest still simmering in Bulgaria, the minority of flies occupied in armament production were becoming very wealthy indeed.
"Sometimes I wonder who wins in these wars," said Lobo, as he looked over the figures of his men, Missing, Wounded, and Killed. "Some things never end. Every twenty or so years, there's a war of some sort."
There was a knock on Chief Five Leg's door. "Come in," he said, wondering why the orderly even bothered to knock. He looked up to see a gator he did not recognize. Instantly he knew it was not an Amazonian gator and that it meant to harm him. He dove behind his desk and drew his pistol.

The other gator, who was none other than Bill Roughskin, already had his gun out and was rapidly circling around the room to avoid being an easy target. He fired one shot into the desk.

Five Legs felt the wood splinters nick his skin. He couldn't stay behind the desk. He leaped out firing at Bill and running for the door.

Now Bill unloaded his weapon at Fivelegs. Two of the shots connected.

Five Legs felt the chunk of two bullets penetrating his hide, but he was still moving and made it to the outer office where he yelled "Intruder!" although there were already soldiers on the run toward his door just from hearing the gunshots.

Bill somersaulted out a window and scurried into the brush. They would search for him and First Landing was only an island. He needed a boat. Fast.

Meanwhile, at his base, Lobo shivered. It wasn't the temperature, but some sort of feeling.
Meanwhile in the Congolo Tombo emerged from his tent "I am done consulting the spirits..." He started to say but then noticed no one was around.

"Where is everybody?" He asked

A Young Dung Beetle informed him on the crusade against the Flies.

"Fudgeclank." Tombo swore clutching his temples "Why do they never wait for me to finish my divination? Why do they always jump to conclusions?"


Tombo trumpeted to call everyone back

"Look..." Tombo said "...I did not intend to repay hatred with more hatred...It will do us no good to wipe out the Flies who are not in the Arms Business...We must go after Vile McFly himself...The thing we need to find out is...Where in the world is he hiding?"
Bill fought to keep his breathing quiet and calm, the struggle threatening to knock him unconscious as he crouched in hiding. The flight from the Command Post has been hectic, with bullets tearing up the foliage at his heels. Now, the undergrowth was alive with Gator patrols, rustling branches and swishing through the water in a wide search pattern. From snatches of eager conversations he had picked up between dodging from spot to spot, Five-Legs had promised fifty fresh flamingoes to whoever brought in the rogue gator that had put two bullets in him. Doubtless the exact amount would grow with every recital.

Hearing another patrol drawing near through the swamp, Bill threw a twig, the wooden missile crashing through the branches to land with a splash some distance away. In the momentary dearth of attention, Bill picked his way clear, submerging fully beneath the murky water to glide stealthily away. This could be tricky; if he couldn't swim to the mainland, he'd have to sneak aboard a boat, which would doubtless be heavily guarded against such an intrusion. Of course, that was assuming that he'd have to leave while Five-legs was still alive...

Nine O'clock News
-------------------------------
In Congolo angry mobs are protesting the arms dealing activities of the Houseflies. A large number of flies have been squished. Vile McFly, head of the flies, said this is a direct result of the withdrawal of the Peacekeepers.

When asked to respond to McFly's comments, a spokesman for the Peacekeepers said they had no choice but to withdraw and return to their donor countries because of the gator threat.

Well-known shaman Tombo the Elephant says the current world war is a direct result of housefly activities in the arms trade and he is consulting the spirits to find out how to deal with the problem.

In the southern district of the United Species of America known as Florida, the wolves are fighting hard to push back the gator invasion. It has been reported that an assassination attempt was made on Chief Five Legs, the leader of the barbarian gators, but we have not confirmed that yet. According to reports, Five Legs was wounded but not killed.



"Turn that off!" Five Legs said. "And bring me my uniform."

"No sir!" said the doctor. "You must remain in that bed until your wounds are healing better. Moving around now will make them worse."

"Bah! I have a war to fight, doctor!"


Not very far away (well, miles, but not far considering the size of the planet) Bill Roughskin was pulling himself into a boat tied to a private dock. His luck was holding. The boat was gassed up and ready to go. The engine roared as he sped away. Looking back he could see the boat's owner running down to the dock from his house, waving his arms and shouting what was probably a string of curse words.
Jawbar soon heard the reports, along with the others. "Any suggestions?"

"Personally, I'd recommend an all out assault," said Lobo. "However, Five Legs would be expecting that, and will likely fortify his position. That being said, I do have an alternative plan - see about getting the civilians currently caught behind enemy lines over on this side - it will deny the gators access to food, among other things, such as providing us with intelligence."


Chapter 4: Snowene and McFly


Meanwhile in the Congolo, Tombo was preparing his secret weapon to find Vile McFly, an Arctic Tern named Snowene.

"Snowene...Your kind travel from one end of the world to the other...You must find Vile McFly, expose him for what he is and destroy him."

"Can do!" Snowene said as she prepared for take off.

"Wait!" Tombo said "Your task will not be an easy one, so I imbue you with this Mystical Amulet, it will glow when you get closer to Vile McFly."
"Well, I could also google it," Said the Arctic Tern hesitantly. "And see where the corporate headquarters for his arms dealership is, and then try to schedule a meeting wit their CEO -that being McFly- to talk about-"

"Bah! 'Google it'." Snorted Congolo. "That will take far too long! You must search the entire world on foot, er, wing! That is the only way!"

"But, he lives in Luxembourg..."

"The only way!" Said Congolo, trunk wagging. "Now, hold still so I can get this on you!"

Meanwhile, Hogmaster Cletus Swinton was having a bad day. His front was paralyzed with living barricades in the form of huge masses of refugees. Every settlement was crowded to bursting with them, overtaxing food, medicine, clothing, and virtually everything else. The almost constant rioting and anarchy were tying down unacceptable levels of soldiers needed to guard the beach heads.

True, a steady number of displaced civilians were trickling out, but they were getting jammed constantly with the armoured convoys moving in, slowing down both. Driving was almost impossible in most towns, let alone large troop movements in case of an emergency.

And, if reports were anything to go by, the Gators were on the move for his sector next. An emergency could be in the forthcoming very soon.
Snowene flew straight to Luxemburg where she asked one of the local birds where to find Vile McFly. His mansion was pointed out to her and as soon as she flew over the grounds, her amulet began to glow. But that was the easy part of her mission, to find him. Now she had to expose him and destroy him. To Snowene, who had reached the educational level of the typical arctic tern, middle school, the task seemed almost impossible. She paid for a room at a cheap hotel not far from McFly's mansion and there she drank lots of coffee and scribbled various plans on sheets of notebook paper.



Bill Roughskin piloted his stolen boat to Panama City, where he met with Saluk Lobo.

"Too bad you were not completely successful," Lobo said, "but still a brilliant job of sneaking behind enemy lines and confronting the Great Satan."

"Is that what we are calling Chief Five Legs now, sir?"

"Ha! Many of the civilians call him that. He's a devil all right. But we'll get him. His reign of terror will end. I want you to join Hogmaster Cletus Swinton and see if you can help out the pig army. I'm giving you a promotion to Major."

"Thank you, sir! But pigs and gators don't mix well. Are you sure Swinton will be glad to see me?"

Lobo laughed. "Swinton will be glad for any help he can get. He's got problems everywhere."


Meanwhile secretary of defense Jawbar Cruncher ordered General Steed to dispatch as many horses as he could, preferably volunteers, to engage in daring missions to rescue civilians trapped behind the enemy lines.
"The more civilians we rescue, the more things will be easier when we launch the attack," said Jawbar. "For one thing, less collateral damage - that could cost us more than a defeat on the battlefield - people might side against us if we accidentally kill their friends and family, especially if we don't make the attempt to clear the place."
Meanwhile Vile McFly was watching some fly strippers...
...To the lovely fragrance of rare and/or endangered animal carcasses hanging from the nightclub ceiling...
"Bring me another bowl of honey dung!" Vile McFly said to the waiter.

Up to his table walked an arctic tern dressed completely in white with diamonds on her neck and wrist and an appealing odor of rotting fruit drifting from her. "Hello, Mister McFly. May I join you?"

"Certainly!" Vile said, looking her up and down with red compound eyes that glistened with lust, or mucus, or something. "Do you work here?"

"Me? Work at the Stinkhole Club? Haha! That's quite funny, Mister McFly! May I call you Vile?"

"Please do! And your name is?"

"Snowy."
"Must of been a cold place where you were born," said Vile.
"Indeed..." Said Snowene sitting next to him "...The place I live in is nothing but a sheet of ice on the top of the world."

In her sleeve was a hidden blade...
...which she would use only as a last resort. Her mission was to expose McFly for what he was. Merely killing him could turn him into a martyr and just make way for another fly to take his place as leader of the arms dealing houseflies. That's why in her other sleeve was a miniaturized audio recording device.

"That's a lovely amulet you are wearing," Vile said. "It glows like a night lamp."

"Um, yes it does," Snowene said. She had meant to hide the amulet but forgotten.

"The only amulets I know of that glow like that are magic amulets. Are you a witch?"

"A witch?" Snowene said. "Hahaha! Do I look like a witch?"

McFly scowled. "I don't need a damn witch sniffing around me. Maybe you should leave."

"But we were getting along so well..." Snowene struggled to get the mood back. She was helped along when the band started playing a romantic song in a sensuous smooth jazz style. Snowene giggled. "All this talk of witches. I wouldn't know what a witch was if one bit me in the ass."

McFly laughed. "You're quite a card, Snowy."

"The Queen of Diamonds?"

"I was thinking more the Joker, but yeah, you can be the Queen of Diamonds and I will be the King of Hearts."

"Oooo," Snowene said. "Sounds delightful."

Meanwhile, Lobo was looking at the records for logistics. "Doing good so far. Might want to start rationing a bit though. Troops won't like it, and neither will the civilians, but it's something that must be done to help deal with the refugees."
His phone shook, and Lobo had it to his ear before the second hum.

"Hello? Speaking. What? Please repeat. Understood. Thank-you." His phone was back in his pocket less than a minute after it started humming, and Lobo was out the room long before even that, barking orders to his staff.

The Gators were landing troops in the Mississippi. Lots of troops. Of course, that was halfway across the continent, and he had his own problems. The Great Satan wasn't going to kill himself. The Pigs -and their emergency reserve troops, the Mouse Army- would have to hold out. Defending a series of broad, congested beachheads against an exclusively amphibious opponent that had been going toe-to-toe with his best war wolves for months, achieving, at their worst, a rough stalemate.

Lobo decided to skip planning for the counter-attack, and instead go right to planning for the recovery from the likely disaster as soon as possible.

High level conference of the allied armies. The atmosphere is electric with tension.

Cletus Swinton: My pigs are doing we all we can! These gators are just too strong!

Saluk Lobo: I have troops on the way. Just hold on for one more day.

Rapido Steed: I can pull some of my horses out of Florida.

Saluk Lobo: But you sent those to help with the refugee situation!

Rapido Steed: You must admit the threat is greater now in Mississippi.

Tad Pooky: I'll send my mice down from Chicago.

Saluk Lobo: Chicago! What were they doing there in the first place?!



Meanwhile, Snowene the arctic tern had managed to worm her way into Vile McFly's heart, or whatever it was. Did he have a heart? And now they were in McFly's bedroom.

"This is not what I expected," Snowene said. "So much purple!"

Vile grinned. "Actually it's ultraviolet. Fly vision, you know? A little different from bird vision."

"I suppose so. Is it true you made all your money dealing arms?"

"Oh wow!" Vile said. "Where did that question come from? It's like way out of left field. We're having a little romantic encounter here and you ask me THAT?!"

"I'm sorry. Someone told me that and the question has just been gnawing on my mind all day." She put her arms around Vile's neck. "You know how it is when something just gnaws at you, don't you? You just have to do something to satisfy it."

"Heh heh! Yes you do! Sure I made tons of money dealing arms. There's always a market for weapons. I sell to everybody. Battles are fought where both sides bought weapons through me. That's why I am the biggest arms dealer on the planet."

"Aha!" Snowene said. "Thank you for that admission, Vile McFly! Now I shall expose you for what you are!" She hoped the recording device hidden in her sleeve had functioned properly.

"What the hell?!" Vile said. Snowy spread her wings and flew out the window.

"Stop that bird!" Vile yelled to the guards in the courtyard... but it was too late.

Lobo was listening to the reports from his officers.

"We've managed to rescue most of the civilian population, if the numbers are accurate," said the one officer. "At least eighteen million, at any rate."

Lobo took a look at the records the US government had given him. "That leaves another two million or so."

"They live in scattered and remote areas, and the gators are in patrol in those sectors, in heavy numbers," said the officer. "To rescue them would be to risk a lot of men. That being said, we are sending messages over the radio, in the languages that are spoken in this state - English, Spanish, and French Creole, and dropping pamphlets on survival, and guerrilla warfare. With any luck, they will be able to organize, and keep them busy."

"It will have to do," said Lobo. "Tell the men to start falling back."

"Sir?"

"This isn't a Runaway Reteat. No, this is a Fighting Retreat," said Lobo. "Tell the men that for each step they take backwards, they are to kill twenty of the enemy. They are to retreat to solid ground, where we will have the advantage."
Snowene was flying, flying free, she had to make sure the flies didn't follow her. She dove under the trees, and flew into a Hippo's mouth
The Hippo belched feathers, and blinked ponderously for the better part of a minute as she wondered what on Earth had just happened. After the minute, Snowene called out from her host's mouth, as far back as she could get without activating her gag reflex.

"Excuse me -Are the flies gone?"
In response to that question, the hippo coughed Snowene out of her mouth.

"I could have walked out," Snowene said after she picked herself up and saw the flies were gone.

The hippo could only blink and display a total lack of understanding of the situation.

"Well," Snowene said, "Thanks!" And she flew on until she saw Tombo again, the shaman elephant who had sent her on her mission.

After listening to the recording from Snowene's sleeve, Tombo said, "Excellent! This is just what we need. I will make sure all the news media show this and expose McFly. Public opinion will be so outraged they will ask for his head!"



Conference of the Allied Commanders

Jawbar Cruncher: How goes the war in Florida?

Saluk Lobo: We have stopped the gator advance and have a solid position on high ground.

Rapido Steed: 95% of the civilians have been rescued.

Jawbar Cruncher: And on the Mississippi River?

Cletus Swinton: The situation has stabilized but the gators are pushing hard against our resistance. They still control New Orleans.

Tad Pooky: Mice are moving towards New Orleans as we speak.

Jawbar Cruncher: What about the Atlantic coast, Amos?

Amos Cheesemouth: All quiet on the eastern front. The only gators spotted in Georgia and Carolina are isolated patrols testing our perimeter.
"I'm surprised that the sharks aren't helping out," said Lobo. "After all, they don't exactly like Intruders taking over their territory."
Meanwhile Snowene gave the evidence to Tombo.

"If only we had a really big television..." The Elephant said "...Big enough for the whole world to see."
"I know who we can take this too," Said Snowene. "King Fallow! Leader of the Mouse Kingdom!"

"Why Fallow? Why not the president of the US?" Asked Tombo, snout curling up quizzically. "Or better yet, the General Secretary of the Universal Sapients?"

"There's too much red tape!" Said the tern. "Fallow's only been crowned recently; we'll be able to get to her much sooner than the other world leaders. And every second, McFly sells more weapons and more people die."
"Your idea has merit," Tombo said. "Can you leave immediately for Bulgaria to see the mouse king?"

"Yes, of course," Snowene said. "Just give me time to catch a quick meal, shower, and change clothes."

Soon the brave little arctic tern was winging her way across the blue skies of Africa, soon to cross the Mediterranean Sea and enter Bulgaria, land of dark forests, where the mouse king Fallow made her home.


Conference of the Allied Commanders

Jawbar Cruncher: Your remark is well-taken, Saluk. Why indeed are the sharks not helping? I promise you at our next meeting we will know more about the sharks and their intentions. Amos, can you meet with the sharks?

Amos Cheesemouth: Can do!


Amos Cheesemouth was as good as his word. Within hours of the conclusion of the conference of allies, General Cheesemouth had set up a meeting in Charleston with Jaw Jaw Blue, an important member of the shark organization.
"I just hope things go well," said Lobo. "According to my men, the enemy isn't able to advance too well, due to the mostly solid nature of the areas I've told my wolves and the locals to evacuate towards. They are taking the rationing alright so far, as it's mostly a holding nature. That being said, if we were to cut off the gators' supply lines, and burn the clothes they have for winter gear, make things easier when things get cold."
Snowene flew to King Fallow's castle

"Can I please see King Fallow?" She asked the Mouse Guards

"How do we know you're not a spy for the enemy?" Asked one of the Guards

"I wish to end the wars..." Said Snowene "...I have something that can bring peace!"

"Anyone can say anything." Said the Other Mouse Guard "Doesn't make it so."

"Let the Bird in!" Said Fallow from the second floor "The Mouse Tribe is allies with the Arctic Terns."
"Thank-you, Your Highness!" Said Snowene, literally flying through the door. She alighted on a cushion, and produced the recording with a flourish. "This, your majesty, is a recorded confession from Vile McFly! In it, he acknowledges that he deals weapons and makes money from death and conflict!"

"I see... How did you manage to get it?" Asked Fallow, a bit startled by the tern's enthusiasm.

"Easy! I found him at his favorite club and steered the conversation towards business. He never saw it coming!" Beamed Snowene proudly.
As King Fallow listened to the recording, her face began to beam with pleasure. "This stuff is dynamite! I'll make sure it gets on cable news tonight. By tomorrow the entire world will know of the vileness of Vile McFly and his vile empire will begin to crumble like a pile of dead maggots!"

"Ew!" Snowene said. "Disturbing image."


Meanwhile, Vile McFly was drifting off to sleep in the big bed in his purple bedroom, completely unaware of the fate that was about to befall him. He gazed at the moonbeams coming through the window and glittering off the piles of gold coins stacked around the room. "Ahhhh," he murmured, as his eyes closed. "Life is good!"
Lobo was looking at his timepiece. "So, when will the representative for the Sharks get here?"
A nervous orderly entered and saluted.

"Sir, the shark ambassador, Madame Jaw Jaw Blue, is here."

"Excellent! Send her in."

Almost immediately, a huge Great White strode in, nearly crushing the unlucky orderly as she eagerly took a seat. The overdone rouge and lipstick on her huge face contrasted with her pallor sharply as she took a seat. The hardwood chair groaned as if it would break under her leviathan bulk.

"Right on schedule, I see." Noted General Cheesemouth pleasantly. "Thank you for coming all this way, onto dry land. I'm afraid that I'm unable to leave the front at such a delicate time. And I wouldn't want someone of lesser rank to negotiate with the Shark Armada."

"It is nothing," She grunted in a thick East Bavarian accent, waving a fin. "But I am afraid that I have little time; it is the War, you see. I hope you would not be disturbed to begin negotiations immediately....?"
"Not at all," said General Cheesemouth. "We rats prize speed as much as the sharks do."

"Yes," said Ambassador Blue. "I have heard about the rats. What exactly do you want the sharks to do?"

"As you know, the United Species of America is engaged in a war with the Amazonian gators. I know you sharks claim allegiance to no continent and have tried to remain neutral, but we feel it would be much to your advantage to support the war effort."

"How so?"

"For one thing," Amos Cheesemouth continued, "The USA is very wealthy and will reward the sharks handsomely for their troubles. And of course you personally would be especially rewarded for all your help."

Jaw Jaw waved a fin dismissively as if to say wealth did not matter all that much to her.

"For another thing," the rat continued. "The gators eat meat. And that includes shark meat."

Jaw Jaw Blue gasped. "Barbarian savages!"

"Yes," Amos said, "they are quite primitive in their ways and customs. As long as they stayed in Amazonia, we could overlook that. But this dream of their leader, Chief Five Legs, to dominate the world..."

"He must be stopped! The sharks will help!"
"Let us know if there's any way that we can assist you with making the task easier, and we'll do what we can on our end," said Lobo. "As it is, I can't tarry too long myself. While my officers are smart enough to take care of themselves, things are easier when one is able to get the information about an army's movements, either one's own, or that of the enemy's, when they are there in person."
Meanwhile Vile McFly was having a run in...With a Spider Assassin

"Who sent you?!" Vile demanded

"I sent myself." Said Scarlet "I have disabled all security, and have webbed the door shut, you're stuck with me in this tiny bathroom."
"I'll pay you double what I did formerly, to not murder me right now." Said Vile, as coolly as could be said while sitting on a toilet and facing a murderer.

"Done," Said the spider to the fly, pocketing her knives. "Thanks for getting me out of prison, by the way."

"You're welcome," Said McFly with an odd tone half courteous and half curt. "May I have some privacy for the moment? I'm somewhat in the middle of something."

"Fine, fine." Scarlet stepped back out, pacing as she waited for the insect to finish up.

"Thank-you," Said McFly, at last coming back out into the bedroom. "Now, as it happens, I've got another contract for you. A big one. There's this Arctic Tern, see, goes by Snow, and I really feel that she ought to be killed..."

"I'm listening," Scarlet's eight eyes glinted, her determination undeterred by two consecutive foiled assassinations.
Snowene had spent all day consulting with King Fallow of the mice. Fallow had greeted her warmly and agreed to do everything she could to expose and destroy Vile McFly. Snowene was a guest in the castle that night and would fly home in the morning.

It was about 3am when Snowene woke up from a sound sleep. She looked around the cozy room, at first not sure where she was, and then remembering, King Fallow's castle.

What had awakened her? Then she knew what it was because she heard it again. A scrabbling sound from outside, as though a tree branch were lightly scraping against the wall. It was easy to hear because the window was open. Snowene very much wished that the window was closed.
That's when she saw the sign of a red Hourglass...Black Widow.

Quick as she could Snowene leaped out of bed just as the Spider crashed through her window.

Snowene flew down the stairs waking up everyone else in the process
"What's going on?" asked King Fallow.
"Big spider!-" Shouted Snowene.

"That's what all this is about? A little spider?" Said King Fallow.

The wall overhead exploded into shrapnel. A bodyguard tackled both of them to the ground as shards rained down.

"-With an uzi!"

King Fallow's hippo maid, Tanzy, screamed, "Lawsy, Miss Fallow, I don't know nothing about killing no spiders!"

"Everybody in the closet!" said the bodyguard as another burst of gunfire raked the room.

"That spider seems to be after me," Snowene said.

"It was sent by Vile McFly!" said King Fallow. "He's got to be behind this."

"I guess he's not too happy about being exposed."
Scarlet headed down the stairs, she hoped to find her prey

Then she tripped on a tripwire and a chandelier fell on her
"That was a strange coincidence," said Snowene. "Are they dead, or just injured?"
Scarlet leaped to her feet, but now she only had seven legs! The chandelier had neatly sliced off one of them.

"Damn!" Scarlet said, but she could move almost as fast on seven legs as eight.

"She's still coming!" Snowene hollered.

Fallow yanked Snowene along with her. "Well, don't just stand there and yell."

"I'm sorry," Snowene said. "I'm just a bird. I get a little bird-brained sometimes."

"Stop that!" Fallow said. "Never buy into the stereotypes about your species! Why, if I believed all the things they say about mice, I would never have become king."

"I thought it was an inherited position?"

"Sometimes. And you still have to be up to the task."
One of the King's bodyguards a Wasp named Ira stung Scarlet

"Ah Wasps!" Scarlet screamed
"This is going to be interesting," said Fallow.

"Why's that?" Snowene asked.

"Ira's the kind of wasp that lays eggs in spiders."
"You bitch!" Ira's head turned to a fleshy pulp as Scarlet emptied her uzi into it at point blank.

"She's out!" Two bodyguards tackled Scarlet to the ground. The spider was crushed under the force of flying muscle, and both of the poor duo stood up a moment later, liberally covered in slime.
Snowene was trembling. "That was AWFUL!"

Fallow put her arm around Snowene's shoulder. "Try not to think about it. You can be sure that Vile McFly sent her here. By tomorrow McFly's empire will be crumbling and he will not be able to hurt you anymore."

"I hope so!"



Chapter 5: The Tide Turns


Meanwhile, the Allied Forces were meeting with considerable success in Florida and Mississippi, helped by the fact that now the gators no longer had a source of weapons with Vile McFly on the run.

"This is the break we needed!" said President Randy Catcher. "Without McFly, the gators are just a bunch of unarmed savages."
General Steed neighed "The war is all but won brothers and sisters!"

Meanwhile in Florida, the Flamingos were pushing back against their Reptilian Oppressors."
Lobo was listening to the chatter from his forces, and the local Guerrillas. "Alright," he said, as he looked at a map. "We need to drop weapons and supplies here, here, and here. This will help the locals some, and divert the gator's forces enough to make a successful counter-attack."
Five-legs was furious. Without ammunition, his gators were being pushed back. His own tour of inspection of the front had been called short by hostile carpet bombing. Outside the hut where the gator chieftain was pouring over a set of maps, a group of captured paritsans were being plucked and skinned in preparation for consumption.

The flamingos protested at length every time the knives methodically peeled off another long strip of skin. So many civilians had been killed that they were being reduced to eating only what hostile soldiers they could catch.
Chief Fivelegs slammed down his maps and marched outside. "All this damned squawking is getting on my nerves! Can't you find a quieter way to prepare a meal?"

High overhead, two eagles circled in the blue sky. "That's him!" one of them said. "That fifth leg is quite distinctive."

In their talons each eagle clutched a short spear. They looked at each other and one said, "This is it. Good-bye, brother, and may God grant us success."

Then they tucked their wings in tight and fell from the sky in a long dive headed straight for the heart of Chief Five Legs, leader of the Amazonian Barbarian Gators.

If you want to know the back story of the eagles, click here
Lobo was listening the the radio chatter. Some of it was good, and others were interesting to say the least.
Five Legs was never to learn what hit him. Indeed, the best those around the chief could even make it out was as a thunderbolt that came out of nowhere in an explosion of feathers. One moment, Five-Legs was organizing a strategic withdrawal; by the next, his mangled body -with two spears sticking through it- and the shattered remains of two eagles were lying in the middle of the road.
Lobo turned up the volume on the radio. Five Legs dead!? Hallelujah!

Most of the gators escaped back to Amazonia. Try as they might, Lobo's forces were unable to slaughter all of them. Without a charismatic leader and with no source of weapons, the barbarian gators relapsed into the primitive mob they had always been, turned tail, and ran for home.

Celebrations took place around the world. King Fallow drank champagne with Snowene and Tombolo. President Randy Catcher croaked so much his throat became sore.

General Cheesemouth had the last word as he told Squeaky the rat, "Well, looks like we're gonna have a little peace around here for awhile."

"How long, sir?"

"Not more than a week, I hope. I love to fight."

THE END


Thank you, writers, for your excellent contributions! The Tales of Erda continue in
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#2033918 by Not Available.


It's not a sequel, but an entirely knew story.

The End!

© Copyright 2015 Steev the Friction Wizurd, BIG BAD WOLF is hopping, Twiga, jdstephens, (known as GROUP).
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