A 7.62mm round cleaved through a Weasalian’s eye, shattering his skull and splattering his brain. The soldiers next to him looked over at the slumping corpse, scared stiff. They were obviously fresh out of basic and couldn’t comprehend that anything could still live here. I took another shot at a shock trooper who had spun around to face my position in response to the noise generated by my sniper rifle. The bullet impacted into his eye through his gas mask’s right lens. His corpse spun a bit from the impact, then flopped to the floor, still clutching his rifle. The rest of the soldiers scurried for cover, but all of it was sorely exposed, as they most likely thought they were being attacked from a different angle. I took advantage of this and quickly brought down three more shock troopers, being sure that they were peeking above their cover to continue the illusion that my position was in the direction they were facing. I swapped my magazine for a new one, keeping an eye on my targets while exchanging magazines. I didn’t have enough time to get off another round, for a shock trooper had already spotted my position and ordered a rush on my hiding spot. Fortunately for me, I recognized Weasalian hand signals and knew they were on their way. I finished loading my rifle, stood up, and pulled out my magnum. Then the rush broke through the rooftop stairway. A Weasalian infantryman, filled with anger and vengeful instincts, charged at me with his rifle’s bayonet, screaming for my blood. He must’ve been a good friend of one of those whom I’d brought down, as even the most inexperienced rookie would’ve known to shoot first and stab later. He was brought down from a .44 round to his chest, punching through his body armor with pure blunt force and crushing his heart with the same brute power. I was lucky to have this position, as the hospital’s lone rooftop stairway was the only way up and the only way to me. It was a funnel to help me kill at my leisure. But the infantryman who charged me was the only one to move through the doorway. I had seen others behind him when he opened the door, but no one dared to follow after him. The tank round that broke through the roof behind me answered why. I heard a yell to my right and brought my magnum up again, ready to fire. The voice was familiar, though, so I ran to the small ventilation shaft that it came from behind. “Where the Hell have you been, Insano?!?” shouted the person next to me. “Oh, nowhere, just watching my home burn to the ground, you idiot!” I yelled back. I finally recognized the person; it was Jonathan Squohnson. Jonny was a tall squirrel standing just above my height by about three or four inches, his massive tail even taller than that. He came from a poor background in Squirrelisica and had eventually enlisted in the country’s armed forces. He made it to the rank of squad sergeant after many skirmishes with Weasaliastanica during the Great War, but was discharged after the war ended, leaving him jobless and poor. He eventually moved to Badgederstan, hoping his few Squirrelisican S-notes and international I-notes would be worth more in the smaller, less economically powerful nation. He was fortunately right and made his way to the upper middle class, taking a successful job as the hospital’s security chief. Jonathan shoved a new clip into the back of his BIPDW, more commonly known as the Badger SMG, and spit out a wad of chewing tobacco to his right. “And why weren’t you doing anything? I’ve been fighting these guys all night and I haven’t seen you anywhere!” yelled Squohnson. “All night? They just got here!” I yelled back. Squohnson pulled back the blue sleeve of his security officer’s uniform on his right arm to reveal a scorched slice across his shoulder. “Bastards brought in covert ops. I’ve got a dozen or so more of those marks from one of ‘em who got too close.” he said, “Brought the guy down with a surgeon’s knife across his throat.” “Wait, why’s your arm burned like that?” I asked. “They had these newfangled laser knives or something, burning instead of cutting.” he replied, “Good thing those things were easy to spot or else I never would’ve gotten through the night!” “Now, why weren’t you fighting these guys? You some kind of spy or somethin’?” “In case you didn’t notice, I just picked off about five of the jackasses with my Widowmaker.” I responded, “And then there was that guy who came through the door like a bat out of Hell…” “Whatever, I’ve already called for a bit of help, should be arriving any minute now if the weasel bastards didn’t bring in a SAM battery.” He said. “Help? From who?” I asked, “How many people can you honestly say give a monkey’s ass about Badgederstan?” “Well, since this is Weasaliastanica who’s invading, the squirrels will certainly have something to say here.” He replied, “You know how much we hate eachother!” “No -blam!-, but good to hear! We need something if we’re going to take out these tanks!” I replied, my voice now filled with hope. “Tanks? I called for evac, Insano.” He replied, “We’re getting out of here. The squirrels don’t have any heavy units anywhere near here and you know how f—ked up their deployment rate is.” “But we can win this one!” I yelled, enthusiastic about taking back my home, yet drained of hope from Jonathan’s reply, “If we just get some anti-armor troops in here, we can kick these guys out of here! Just you, me, and a couple of rocket jockeys, we can do it!” “Not a chance in Hell, Insano. Look at how many damned vehicles they’ve got running around!” he replied, “There’s no way on Sentia that we can kill all of these with just us!” As if on cue, the evac chopper showed up just next to the hospital, waiting right next to us. Its model was the usual Fartost Mule, a dual-prop, open-sided, multi-role helo with two side-mounted SMG-134 minigun turrets for infantry support. “GET IN AND LET’S GO!” yelled the gunner facing us, waving over at us. “Come on, Insano, we’ve got to get out of here before one of their rocket jockeys spots us!” yelled Jonny over the helicopter’s propeller noise. “But…we can win!” I said, my voice beginning to crack. “Stay or come with us, Insano.” Replied Jonathan, “We don’t want to stick around for the cruise missile.” I sighed and boarded the helo after Jonny, then held onto one of the ceiling supports. The helicopter took off, the gunners brought down a few Weasalians in the open, and I felt defeated. I could have done something more, but I didn’t get the chance. The helicopter continued over the mountains decorating the East of the city as we saw the cruise missile Jonny had mentioned earlier streak into the decimated city. The anti-matter warhead it carried destroyed the area with the same force that a tactical nuke might have brought. And that was the end. But it was also a beginning. It was the beginning of the Rodent Era Of Suffering. WTFUX comments now.