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Fantasticoe 1991


Allen Kassebaum

     Larson lifted his left paw. This gesture was a prearranged signal with the troop rats to stop and take a five minute break. Larson, and his six compatriots, sat down inside the sewer system that ran parallel to Pennsylvania Avenue. Larson quietly sat in the shadows and watched his friends eat some sunflower seeds to keep their strength. They all knew that a lot would be required of them before the night was over. As Stealth, a member of the squadron, quietly conversed with Mic, Larson thought back on the events that had brought them to this important point in their lives.

     The seven of them had grown up in the occupied territories of Israel. Life had been hard. Many a night when they did not have food. What they remembered the most was what happened to their parents. When they were just a couple of months old (the life span is shorter for rats, than it is for humans) their parents were taken by ruthless Israel rats. Their parents were accused of plotting to overthrow the government. Larson knew that this was not the case; he gathered the rest of his friends together and they decided to make the government pay for taking their parents. Later that month they bombed an Israeli government building, putting them on the most wanted list in Israel.

     Just a few short months after that event that the group of friends arrived in Libya to start training as terrorists, they would be taught by the best. Members of the PRO, the Palestinian Rat Organization, would adopt them and show them how to hit the enemy where it hurts the most. With the training that they received at this camp they were destined to become the best terrorist group of their time. They were responsible for the hijacking of passengers on the Achile Lauro.

     Shortly after that event the members of the group grew tired with their life of terrorism and decided to hire themselves out as elite assassins. Besides the more prestige, killing important politicians in the world pays more money. Only a couple of months ago the group received its first commission, they were to assassinate the President of the Rat Nation of America.

     Larson remembered the events vividly. This war started just under five months ago when the human leader of Iraq, Saddam Hussein, attacked and defeated his neighbor, Kuwait. The United States acted in typical fashion and moved their military to block any further moves. Between that instance and this current point there had been nothing but increased tensions. Ahkmed, the president of the little known Iraqi rat nation, wanted to strike at the heart of the Rat Nation of America. With this in mind Ahkmed ordered his special forces to find and hire a group that would be willing to assassinate his counterpart in Rat America.

     Word had been sent to the country of Libya. Here the best assassins in the world could be found. From these groups Ahkmed planned to chose the courageous warriors that would carry the war to the homeland of the Satanic followers, The Rat Nation of America. Larson and his rats were chosen from the many assassins, individual groups, and the more famous PRO members (Palestinian Rat organization). Larson and his group were to infiltrate the White House and kill the president and teach those infidels a lesson.

     Slash and Death, the rat twins, brought Larson out of his half-sleep. Using sign language they told him that there was something coming, possible a patrol. With a couple of quick, silent, commands Larson and his patrol disappeared into the shadows hiding behind a couple of six packs of coke.

     After a few minutes of tense waiting, Larson saw a cat approaching out of the sewer shadows. At the sight of the cat Larson had a quick gasp of air. He was not afraid of the cat-- after all he and his rats were armed with the latest rat technology. No it was not the cat but what probably followed the cat. All rats knew that the Rat Nation of America had long ago trained cats to be their personnel carriers. With this in mind, Larson kept an eye open for anybody that was moving in the shadows; his patience paid off. There was a small group of rats moving in the shadows behind the cat. Larson did not have a good vantage point behind the can of coke, but he knew that they had to be the feared Black Berets, the elite guards of the Rat President. Rumor had it that they were psychotic and would kill themselves for the pleasure of seeing blood. Many believed that they would attack humans to demonstrate their courage (something only an insane rat would try). Larson knew that it would be best to let them pass by without any action, he didn't want to alert the defense forces that they were in the vicinity. Besides there would be enough Black Berets to kill once they got closer to the president.

     After a few minutes had passed, and the Black Berets were out of sight, Larson gave a low whistle-- reuniting his patrol of rats. In total there were seven rats. Larson was the leader. He was equipped with the following: the AK-.47, a smaller and deadlier version of the ak-47, a catknife, a 9micrometer handgun, a map, and night fighting gear. In addition to this Larson was wearing black

clothing and he was proficient in the martial arts. The other six rats were armed in the same basic fashion with a few exceptions. Slash, he got this nickname because he was deadly with his catknife, carried the rope for the patrol. Death, if a rat saw him he was sure to die, he was a mean rat, the marksrat, carried the rat version of the Galil assault rifle, a .0022 Galil. This weapon was built by the people they hated the most, Israel rats. Larson's group had recently acquired it, because it was the best on the market. Nitro carried the plastic explosives in case they couldn't get through a door with their door picks. Stealth carried the door picks and was the pointrat on the mission. Mic, the radiorat, and Doc, the medic, usually brought up the rear.

     After Larson reoriented himself in the sewer, the group turned west heading for the White House. After a few minutes of wading through water, they reached the security gate. At this point, the rats returned to the surface. Instead of trying to go through the rat security they would infiltrate the White House via human security posts. Small rodents could easily get by humans.

     After a few short minutes the patrol reached the surface, and they were through the gates. Now came one of the hardest parts of the mission. Rumor had it that the American rats had enlisted the help of a owl for air defense around the White House. The patrol needed to stay in the shadows and move slowly and pray that the Owl's sharp eyes could not see them. They were about half way across the lawn when the patrol heard a loud sound. The Owl must have spotted them. The Owl's cry pierced the night like a Klaxon.

Hoot. Hoot. Hoot.

     Now that the patrol was found they would no longer remain hidden. The group sprinted toward the main doors spitting machine gun fire at the guards. The bullets riddled the rats bodies. They had been completely surprised. The Black Berets fell low like a as if it was the annual feeding frenzy.

     As the rat patrol entered the corridors underneath the White House Doc hit the ground in a shower of blood. An anti-rat mine had been planted in the tunnel floor. Doc had stepped on the mine and ceased to exist. Bits of flesh could be seen on the walls as the group ran deeper into the White House. Larson could not let the loss of Doc stop them, they had a mission to accomplish.

     In the moments that followed Larson had never seen such a blood bath. The speed of the patrol allowed them to catch many of the Black Beret guards off guard. However, for every corner and intersection the group passed on its way into the heart of the White House, another member passed on to the happy hunting grounds in the sky. Most were violent deaths. Mic died an agonizing death, he was caught from behind by a cat and toyed with for a minute or two before being pulled apart at the limbs. Nitro and Stealth bit the dust trying to save Larson from a machine gun bunker blocking the passageway. They took the bunker out by rushing it and killing the occupants. Unfortunately they left half their body in the hallway leading up to the bunker, as they died they looked like swiss cheese.

     Soon it was only Larson, Slash, and Death. These three were the elite of the elite. The group was successful in winning through to the President's sleeping quarters. Unfortunately they had taken too long. The President was gone and had been replaced by a score or more Black Berets. Bullets sprayed about the room killing many a rat. In the center, Larson detonated a sleep grenade filling the room with gas. Soon all were asleep with the exception of Larson, Slash, and Death. Larson was secure in his knowledge that they had shown the American of their ability to hit the homeland. Even though they were unsuccessful the group would live to fight another day.

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Fantasticoe 1991