Sure, you won't know what's going on, but it's something to read. Just enjoy and post your "WTFUX?" comments I know that'll occur. A little (Not a wall of text) background before you read: Badgederstan is a recently-founded, multi-cultural country comprised of one city and a small amount of military forces. The military is incredibly small, numbering in at only two hundred personnel, all of them pulling multiple jobs in their duty. The military is mostly in guard towers and other fortifications lining the city, but some are stationed at a Rodentia-owned airfield with a few fighters and interceptors nearby. [b][u]The Fall Of Badgederstan[/b][/u] A story of the Era Of Rodent Suffering. It was another marvelous day in Badgederstan, people were selling food, running offices, buying stock, and even a few MingeBags were being chased out of the city by some Admins who had stopped by for the weekend. But all I could hear were the bombers. The Weasalian 39th Incursion Wing had flown in under the cover of night, loaded to the brim with all sorts of anti-industry ordinance; incendiary munitions designed to spread fire and chaos throughout civilian areas to slow down a country’s industry. Although the rest of the city was carefree and unaware of this approaching tornado of death, I alone had spotted them. Our nation had boasted to have the greatest radar installations in the world, but we had far too many blind spots. This would prove to be our downfall. It was a normal Monday when I had woken up at my usual time of 5:00AM; it was dark, the sun hadn’t come up completely, and, for the most part, it was quiet. But a faint droning had made itself known to me at about 5:15. I ignored it at first, thinking it was merely the sound of the city’s massive hydroelectric power plant nearby. But the sound kept following me everywhere I went, hounding me like a hunter slowly and obviously following its badly injured prey. Wherever I went, the sound was there, inside buildings, underground in the subways, and even at my office which was usually a rush of activity and quite noisy. The sound was impossible to shake, which alerted me to what it could only be; A Weasalian WP-B-10 “Graboid” heavy bomber. Named after a beast of unholy endurance in stalking their prey, the Graboid was very capable of holding its position over a target area for incredible periods of time. The main downside of this lumbering beast was its slow speed, poor maneuverability, and unshakeable sound. The payload for this war machine was enough to justify its slow speed, which satisfied the Weasalian generals enough to put it into active service. I was horrified by this revelation. Why would the Weasalians want to bomb Badgederstan? We had done nothing wrong, nor contributed to any wars! We didn’t even have a large amount land or resources for them to conquer! Why? They didn’t need a reason why. I was one of the few who claimed that we were about to be attacked and that interceptors needed to be deployed, but no one listened. No one cared. They all thought I was merely spouting insanity. My reputation as the living embodiment of insanity had apparently preceded me too far and thus prevented me from getting the warning out, but there were others. Unfortunately, most of them were people I knew, and as such, the warning was impossible to spread as people feared that I may have driven them to insanity as well. Even those I did not know were deemed as crazy and given the same respect one would give the homeless person who cries of the apocalypse being nigh and that we should all say good bye to our loved ones. But we weren’t crazy. They were too trusting. The air raid siren began to blare at about 4:03PM. Only a few besides those who tried to warn the populace knew what was going on. In the skies, the bombers could be seen making a slow spiral towards their drop height. Most people hoped that this was simply another threat run, a usual tactic employed by the Weasalians on many of the smaller countries to bully them into political support or potential annexation, but they were wrong. Invisible to us, the bombardiers were sighting up structures, primarily civilian housing, and grinning with sinister glee. Most Weasalians loved to see things burn and would often start fires just to see something smolder to ashes, which turned the horrible act of slaughtering civilians into a fun event filled with lots of burning things to them. Most of those who knew what was about to happen had already gathered up their belongings and fled town, but most people were simply staring up at the bombers. Waiting. Waiting for them to either pass on or drop their loads. Then all Hell broke loose. [b][u]April 20th, 1956 - 4:03PM[b][u] About twenty divisions of Weasalian shock troops rolled into the city with five heavy tank brigades. The defenses for the city were crushed into rubble in a matter of mere moments, letting anyone and anything come at us. That was the end for Badgederstan, as its only standing military forces were those in the guard towers and trenches surrounding its capitol. But it was over when Weasaliastanica eyed our country hungrily for apparently no reason. Not a single nation on Sentianarodentalus could ever hope to compete with the juggernaut that is the Weasalian military and come out with a favorable result. Weasaliastanica had the numbers, training, technology, and luck to pull off anything they wanted to. They could even take on most of the world at once and come through with a substantial victory. Even the just and mighty Squirrelisica would fail in a one-on-one with this titanic war machine without using their political savvy to save themselves from annihilation. First went the offices. The tanks and shock troops tore down every office building they came across, either raiding it with infantry, then crumbling it with tanks, or simply pounding the building into dust with a coordinated artillery strike from the 239mm cannons more than forty miles away. They killed any civilians they came across in the buildings, slaughtering helpless rodents without caring that they might have families, relatives, or loved ones. They just killed anyone they found without mercy and without remorse. The streets were a bloodbath of civilians trying to flee, only to be crushed under the treads of an armored vehicle or gunned down by a shock trooper’s WAR-12. Death came swiftly to those caught in the open, but I was smart enough to have found a spot on top of the hospital. I brought with myself an R27 Widowmaker sniper rifle to cause as many casualties to the invaders as possible. I had also brought my classic .44 Magnum Mega Class A1 in case anyone tried to sneak up behind me. But for now, I was merely observing, numbed by the atrocities and too horrified to concentrate on a target. Weasalians darted in every direction, hunting for civilians to eliminate. But, strangely, they all departed almost as quickly as they had came. Tanks reversed out of the city, soldiers ran every which way to the city limits, and then it came to me; the bombers still hadn’t dropped their payload and still were circling above us. I looked up in curiosity just in time to see the bombers break out of their ominous spiral and into standard bombing patterns. And then Hell got hotter. The bombers began to drop their payloads onto all of the civilian neighborhoods, apartment buildings, hotels, and other residential areas. Nothing that a person could call home was excepted from the flames as the incendiary munitions dropped in through their roofs and set everything ablaze. The sky was soon filled with smoke and flames could be seen all around. Practically nothing was left unscathed. My hospital hideout, the demolished office buildings, and a few industrial and mining complexes staved off the flames with their concrete or steel composition, but everything else burned. Despite the horror of the situation, my Weasalian past left me smiling at the flames with a psychotic bit of glee. Even I admit that, even had I not grown up in Weasaliastanica, I would have enjoyed the flames and the heat they produced throughout the city. But my insane satisfaction was not enough to stave off the sheer terror that filled my mind as I watched what had been my home for the past two years burn to the ground amidst the bullet-ridden corpses of who I had called friends. Some of the corpses caught fire, their fur turning them ablaze and smoking quickly, which only added to the heat and thick smoke. It was a standard complete takeover in Weasalian military tactics. The show was over for Badgederstan. The curtain had fallen and the actors had already been fired. But I was still on-stage and wasn’t leaving without performing. I waited patiently for the weasels to come back to the city. It was about two days before the fires burned out and the smoke cleared, but I was determined to make them pay for their transgressions. Eventually, when the skies had shifted from their deathly red and black to a less fearful light gray, the Weasalians returned. Shock troops and standard infantry alike slowly made their way through the ashes of the once-proud city. Tanks, APCs, and jeeps patrolled the streets, making sure that no Badgederstanian was left alive. They had already made a sweep of the hospital, but never checked the roof. This would be [i]their[/i] downfall. (Next part coming soon, just need to post it. Character limit caused a cliffhanger.)