First posted to alt.devilbunnies 1-9 October, 1999 in collaboration with:
William Wade
MJ "Fuzzy Bunny" Howard
Chris Bernier
and Geoffrey "Snowshoe" Marsh.
©1999 by all above and Scott Bernier.
First HTML-ized 11 October, 1999
As with the rest of my stories to date for 1999, this one is interconnected with the rest to some extent. Timeline-wise, this takes place a few days after The Summit.
Proper credits as posted to the newsgroup:
alt.devilbunnies OFF
No one likes seeing these here. I feel it is necessary to provide proper credit to those who have worked with me on this story (read: if the Collaboration Curse™ hasn't swallowed them yet, it may soon).
This series has been in the making since the beginning of the year. The dreaded collaboration curse has caught-up with me for part of that time, or maybe it was just writer's block. I must say I have felt burned-out story-wise most of the year. But anyway....
Big thanks to the following for working on this story:
MJ "Fuzzy" Howard
Geoffrey "Snowshoe" March
Bill Wade
Chris (Pomerleau) Bernier
Also credit for ideas 'borrowed' from go out to:
Scott Robert Dawson (You should figure it out easily enough, and hopefully, this doesn't scare
you back into hiding.)
Dave "Squirrel Ronin" Barrett (Though RL swallowed him sometime ago.)
Enjoy The Summit leading into (the Year of the Rabbit) Maine Battle '99....
Scott "Moxie Man" Bernier
alt.devilbunnies ON
Return to Moxie's Stories homepage.
It was 0300hrs local time. Jerry looked down upon the Maine Fudd base in the distance in the pre-dawn twilight through a pair of bunnoculars. Perfect. Everybun should be in place. He didn't know for sure for he had ordered radio silence with Gus' advice until the order to attack was given. Jerry had surprised Gus when he had suggested the pre-dawn raid time. Gus had never taken the Fudds' squirrel scouts into account. Squirrels, being diurnal, wouldn't be out and about at this time, scouting out well beyond the base's cuteness geometer network, which enabled the bun forces to get closer to the base. They wouldn't get much closer without setting off said cuteness geometer network, but it wouldn't matter. The buns had numbers and surprise on their side.
Jerry pulled-out his radio. "GO!" he cried into it.
Up and down the lines, countless numbers of buns hopped forward towards their goal.
"GO!" (STOMP!) "Commander Jerry is attacking the Fudds. We're to do the same!"
Deep in the Maine North Woods, many, many miles north of the Namakata squirrels, just outside of the Allagash Wilderness Waterway lies Chesuncook Lake. The Lumberjack Fudd camp on it's west shore erupted in chaos as 300 devilbunnies descended upon it from all directions.
******BUNNYSTUMPER™ DELUXE WIDEBEAM*****
Mayday, mayday, Zis Eese....(static)
*****END CARRIER*****
Return to the
"I hate night watch, Joe."
Joe puffed on a cigarette. "Only a couple of hours to go, Dave. Many people enjoy sunsets." They continued to walk along the eastern perimeter of the base, near the edge of the cuteness geometer network. "I prefer sunrise, it's more quiet, just you and nature..." the base alarms sounded.
Joe and Dave looked up in unison in time to see their death. They didn't have time to raise their axes as they were barreled over by a dozen buns. Their bodies were left unrecognizable and toeless in less then thirty seconds as the Fluffy lines advanced forward towards the base.
One devilbunny (STOMP!)ed out Joe's cigarette. "Silly Fudd," (gigglefluff) "didn't they tell you that cigarettes are bad for your health!"
"What in Elmer's wrath!" (STOMP!) Major Steve Blake charged into his office which doubled as the farm/base's command center as the sirens blared.
"Surprise attack by a very large bun army, sir!" Eugene yelled over the noise of the base alarms. "Three groups, one from the south, another from the north, and a smaller group from the east. They appear well coordinated." Eugene called-up the cuteness geometer tracking program onto Blake's laptop. Red dots indicating cuteness sources appeared on an overlaid map of the surrounding terrain. The largest concentrations of dots were as Eugene indicated, to the north and south with a smaller group to the east.
"Crank-up sensitivity, we all know where I am."
Eugene barked the order over his headset to communications. The map on Blake's system expanded. "Great El'mar..." he mumbled as the base alarms were silenced. The dots on the map doubled with what looked like a reserve or command group to the southeast on Moe's Mountain. "Take a look at this."
Eugene looked and had trouble keeping his composure. "I haven't seen concentrations like that since...since Lubbock...how?"
"Obviously, they've figured out that our sensors' sensitivity has been dulled a little. How else could they get so close before setting off the sensors? Catherine should have killed Sugartail when she had the chance." (STOMP!)
There was an awkward pause as Eugene listened to communications on his head-set. "Sir, our soldiers are mustering and preparing for battle." Eugene paused a moment. "My brother must have lost his mind...reports indicate he was last seen heading for the back barn in farmer's coveralls commenting 'Time to mow the back forty'..." Eugene drifted off a moment while listening to more reports. "Transportation out of here for your family is ready if the need should arise."
"Need? Look at the size of that force, Gene. I don't care how well trained our forces are, I want my family out of here, now!" (STOMP!)
Eugene nodded and barked an order into his headset before he continued. "Unfortunately, the fluffahs have already jammed our connections with the outside world, portable radios still work, for short distances only. We've tried the phones. The lines are dead...." The lights went out for a moment and then the base's back-up generator (two 1971 diesel Buicks up on blocks) kicked in. "along with power. You can forget any net connections and the buns are doing something to interfere with what few cell phones we've got. I'll have your family sent by the secondary route to be safe and a decoy along the main route."
Steve nodded. "Let's kick some fluffy tail and show these fluffers the mistake they've made."
Return to the
A late model, beat-up van rolled through China Village's 'downtown', slowed and came to a halt. The driver peered through the early morning fog. The road was blocked by dozens of rabbits and two overturned Volkswagen Bugs. He looked in his side view mirrors and saw that a couple of Fords had been rolled onto the road behind him blocking his escape by that route. The driver shook his head in dismay and grabbed his CB.
"Town is compromised. Will attempt to get back to base."
The van's engine revved. The driver popped the clutch and plowed through the buns and the Volkswagen vehicles only to fall through the pavement. The buns, being natural diggers, had tunneled-out the earth beneath the roadway. The driver didn't have much of a chance as he was enveloped in a swarm of fluff.
Return to the
So far, the Fudds fought as Jerry had predicted, a slow, steady, well defended retreat, with buns paying for every inch of ground gained. Suddenly, the Fudds, turned and fled through cornfields towards the main compound. Jerry's individual regiment commanders had all they could do to keep their buns from giving quick pursuit. That was for a specially trained regiment.
Thistleroot and his company charged forward in their modified bunarmor. They had volunteered specifically for this assignment. It were these same Fudds who had made fools of them (and those who had come before them) in Portland four years previous. As they charged into the cornfield, it was engulfed in flames. As the flames whipped about them, Thistleroot's regiment hunkered down, their flame and heat retardant firefighter bunarmor keeping them safe.
As the fields lit-up, Jerry paw signaled. Large speakers were cranked-up. Over the system bunny cries of pain, fear, dismay, and death were blasted out towards the Fudd lines. Up and down the Fudd lines, humans cheered at their apparent victory, waving their axes up and down.
On this signal, Thistleroot's regiment leaped through the dying flames and totally surprised the front line of Fudds. The early dawn field was bathed in blood. As the Fudds regrouped and began to regain ground against Thistleroot's troops, the flames behind them in the fields burned out and the main part of the bun army moved in. Soon the tide turned back against the Fudds and the slow and steady retreat continued towards the Fudd HQ.
Return to the
Chris Pomerleau put on a straw hat as he opened the barn doors and stuck a piece of straw between his teeth for the full stereotype effect. He mounted the John Deah™ tractor within the barn and started it up. This wasn't your ordinary diesel tractor. This was his New Toy™. He revved the engine and black smoke poured forth from the exhaust pipe that towered above him.
It didn't sound like a normal tractor. Good reason to. He had switched out the 4 cylinder engine that was standard for this model and had installed a 405 V8 from a run-down Pontiac he had found abandoned in one of the back fields. He popped the tractor into gear, floored the accelerator and nearly popped a wheelie as he charged out of the barn. The tractor steered straight for the enemy lines.
Return to the
These were seasoned Fudds, but even the best can't hold out for long against overwhelming numbers. Bun bodies would grow 3 and 4 deep before the Fudds were forced to give ground. Then a few buns saw an opening. Fudds were buried in the onslaught and the buns charged forward only to be crushed under tread by a smog belching, forest green John Deah™ tractor. Those not fortunate enough to get crushed were literally mowed down by the haying attachment to the rear of the Fudd machinery monstrosity. Bunny parts flew through the air behind the John Deah™.
A few brave buns leapt up onto the hood of the tractor during one pass. Chris ducked in time as one leapt at him only to wind-up julienne bunny behind the rig. Some quick sharp turning, that nearly tipped the tractor over tossed the other buns off.
Chris fully slipped into character yee-hawing as he went. After taking several swaths through the front bun ranks, he switched implement gears, disengaging the haying tines and engaging the bailer. This wasn't your small time square bale bailer. This was a Maine hay roller bailer. Rolls of hay mixed with dead bunny parts and a few live ones quickly formed behind the tractor. "Yah, that's right Gethro, You're messing with tha wrong hick!" With each one being dropped into the field when it reached a four foot diameter, Chris laughed with glee.
That is until he noticed the hitchhikers on the haying attachment. Several buns had successfully leapt onto it in this last pass and they had detached the bailer. A few made ready to leap at Chris. Chris looked back at them and grinned evilly. "I hope you've got your seatbelts on!" Chris shifted to the highest speed gear and floored the accelerator. This time the John Deer did do a wheelie as tufts of grass flew from the wheels. The buns somehow held-on, but none of them dared to loosen their grip enough to try and leap at Chris.
Chris grinned like a Cheshire cat as he plowed through the next rank of buns, zig-zagging trying to shake the buns off the haying attachment. Hitting any rock that lay in the field with which he could use to jar the attachment. He headed for a hill and took the tractor parallel to a fence, that conveniently went up the hill as well, to scrape two or three more buns from the side of the attachment. He tore-up over the hill. "[PiG-13]-it!" He cried, reaching behind him and pulling the pin holding the attachment to the tractor. He then banked hard to the left, and leapt from the tractor as it flipped. The haying attachment and the freeloading bun soldiers flew on by and over the ravine on the other side of the hill...and down with a resounding crash.
Chris tucked into a roll, came to a stop and jumped up, pulling out his bow and proceeded cautiously back towards Fudd lines.
Return to the
Jerry shook his head sadly. They were winning, but the cost in bun lives was enormous. They had lost two regiments of regbuns who had triggered trip wires rigged to 150 dB fog horns hidden in the tall grass. Their eardrums had been ruptured. Fortunately, none of them suffered long.
He still couldn't believe that tractor he saw being driven by Pomerleau's insane brother. It had wreaked more havoc then a Lumberjack skiddah. But no matter now. They were within striking range of the base's buildings.
Chris Pomerleau was on his third bowstring. He was running low on arrows, but he had exacted a toll on the buns all along this stretch of ground. He only had 6 shafts left of his 'special' arrows he had tested back in the Portland battle. He pulled one out, took careful aim at the distant buns and let it fly. Bulls-eye.
Corporal Tenderpaw was knocked out of the air as the arrow impacted with his chest. He slammed into the ground and lay there a moment in surprise. He was still alive. He looked down at the arrow in...no sticking to his chest. It had failed to puncture his bunarmor. (gigglefluff) He examined it more closely. There was a suction cup tip. He started giggling some more. You'd think these Fudds would use something more dangerous. He had been knocked out of the air with a kit's toy. He unsheathed his foreclaws and slashed into the arrow....
ZZZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!
Tenderpaw stiffened and lay still as the two highly charged capacitors attached to the arrow discharged into his system.
Return to the
"Things are going bad, Major! The decoy vehicle sent-out hasn't reported in. Your wife has refused to leave without you. She's firing rifles into the distant buns as fast as two Fudds can load them for her. She insists you go with her. The situation here is hopeless, sir. We can't hold-out against these numbers...."
(wearysighfluff) Major Blake squinted into the rising sun. "I know. Sound retreat. Every Fudd for themselves. We will regroup at the predesignated locations to try and form a counter-attack."
"Understood!" Eugene barked orders into his headset. Up and down the ragged Fudd lines, Fudds broke-off from their defensive retreat and tried to escape any way they could.
Eugene spotted one group down hill and quite a distance off he knew wouldn't make it as they were surrounded by buns, cut-off from the rest of the Fudds. He jumped into the base's water truck and released the parking brake, aimed it towards that group of Fudds and jumped out. This wasn't an ordinary water truck. The 4,000 gallon tank was filled with Moxie™. The trip down hill wasn't smooth, either. The truck bounced and swayed as it rolled down hill. Buns dodged the vehicle with ease.
Eugene took aim with his rifle and fired five rounds from the clip into the tank. Moxie™ sprayed everywhere. Buns cried-out in pain, panic and fear as they were bathed in the horrid soft drink. Eugene did what little he could as some of the Fudds in that distant group now had an opening to try and get away. He turned and sprinted towards the farmhouse.
As he arrived, he paused, listening into his headset. "Are you sure?" Eugene shook his head. "Major! Fudd scouts report all our escape routes are cut-off."
"All?" Blake paused as Eugene nodded grimly. "Then you know what to do."
"All Fudds, Grand Finale! I repeat! To all Fudds, Operation Grand Finale! Dig-in and take as many of them with you as you can! El'mar guard over you." Eugene slid the headset off his ears and started emptying his rifle into the oncoming buns.
Return to the
[Author's note: This was an afterthought as we realized after we started posting that there was no way for Wade's men to know what's going on and come into 'play'.]
"Lance Corporal Penny!!! There is a large unit of buns approaching us!"
It was about six hours until dawn. A figure lowered his binoculars and moved towards the speaker. Both men were in a small grove of trees overlooking the Pomerleau farm. They were from the newly formed NightStalkers platoon and had gained the prestige of drawing the potentially dangerous assignment of monitoring the Fudd base.
"Lower your voice private, there could be more around!" LCpl. Penny motioned for Private Arcmen to move towards him.
"Where did you see them and how many did you see? I need to know everything so we can send it to headquarters."
"I saw a huge group of them. They split up into different groups and one of them is headed here, to this very hill. As for how many there were, I have no clue."
"Good work. So the vermin are here for a fight! Well, we'll give them one. First, I want you to head back to base and let them know what you have seen. Don't stop for anything, you must get this message to base!"
"LCpl. Penny, what about you? I want my chance to fight too!!"
"Have you been blooded yet?" From the downward glance of the Private, Penny could tell he had hardly finished boot camp. "Get going, your chance to die will come soon enough. Remember, it is the Dark One who chooses our time, not us. Now get going! And may he light your way, even in these dark times."
"Yes, Lance Corporal and may the Dark One protect you in your upcoming fight."
With that the private disappeared into the brush and soon you could only hear the wind.
*It will be dawn soon. I must move to a better location.*
"My Lord, we have news that a large group of vermin has surrounded the Fudd base and is most likely trying to attack it. From reports we have gained on the Fudd strength, they are heavily outnumbered. What are you orders?"
A man was kneeling on the floor. The room was a small alcove, filled with candles and a large statue. The man was facing the statue and away from the messenger. Lines of red criss-crossed the man's back. The man stood up and faced the messenger.
"So, they dare defile my land! The vermin have yet to learn when to leave well enough alone. Fortunately I had the foresight to plan for this. Prepare the men."
"Yes, My Lord." The man replied and quickly he took off.
"Cassandra, prepare my armor. I am going to need strong blessings on it today. Our plan has been put in motion and I don't want anything to go wrong. You will not accompany me today, I feel you would be in danger and losing you would be a terrible blow to moral."
"As you wish My Lord" Cassandra jumped down from her perch and left the room.
"Everything is set. They thought by sending that tape of my men jumping into that spamming machine would enrage me and send me on some wild goose chase, but once again they have underestimated me. I was stupid once, but only once and now I will make them pay for their ignorance. The fly has landed on the web and it is now time for the spider to feed.
Return to the
The group of Fudds Eugene had saved with the water truck used the truck as their ticket out. At the end of the last field, they pulled onto a jeep trail heading east into the woods. The truck made good time and left the buns behind. Any fluffer who got in their way became an imprint in the soil, any that dodged was soaked in Moxie™ spray. They drove a mile into the woods before the truck got stuck in the mud and they were forced to continuing fleeing on foot. They rounded a bend and found themselves on the edge of Yorktown Bog.
"All we have to do is cross the bog and..." He stopped when a lone rabbit hopped out into the trail ahead of them.
"Surrender and live to see another sunrise.
The Fudds brought their axes up to the guard position.
"What the [PiG-13] are you supposed to be?"
"I am Major Greynose, KingdomWarren 2/32 and I have you surrounded. If you
cooperate we may find a use for you other than *ingredient*
"I think we'll just *pop* you and live to fight another day." The rabbit made a low
whisting noise. This was followed by several low thumps from the bunny netguns concealed in the
underbrush. Greynose
"A nice effort but a futile one. Medbun! tranq 'em and drag 'em to the transports. Looks like fresh Spam tonight."
Return to the
(quietchittering) "Here they come."
"They will tell stories of this day."
(agreedflick)
The two squirrels dove from the tree into the midst of the bun patrol. (SCREEEEE!!!!) Chaos erupted as fur and bun flesh went flying. Screams of panic and surprise erupted from the buns....and then silence. As the dust settled, two squirrels with headbands and katana-like pointy sticks stood on their hindlegs in an area littered with bun bodies. The surviving buns shook their heads and stared in disbelief at the two squirrels who bowed to them and took-up a very unsquirrel like fighting stance stances, sort of like human martial artists, back-to-back facing their foes. A smaller blade dangled from each of their tailtips.
Two buns leapt at them, only to join the carcasses that lay around them. Neither squirrel flicked their tails, only clacked their teeth together. The group's commander (STOMP!)ed in anger.
"It's only a couple of tree rats. Kill them already!"
Several buns leaped this time. The pointy sticks flashed and several more corpses joined the pile. SNAP! the sticks broke. Both squirrels held-out their paws in a defensive posture.
(STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!) "What are you?!"
The two squirrels bowed slightly without dropping their guard. "We are students of the art of Bushy Do as taught by Sensi Ronin," one of them replied. "We have taken many of your lives and will take many more before we die..."
"I will not be humiliated by a couple of ninja-wanna-be tree rats!" (STOMP!) "Anybun who holds back I'll skin alive. Do I make myself clear?" (STOMP!) "Everybun charge!"
The two squirrels were buried under a wave of fluff. They did as they promised, though, taking several more bun lives before they perished.
Return to the
Blake shouted encouragement to his men, slicing at buns himself as the opportunity arose, but they were losing. His forces numbered less then fifty now and he didn't have Colonel Oullette's if-all-else-fails trap1 up his sleeve. Eugene knew his last orders. *POP* Steve then swallow the cyanide pill rather then be captured.
There was a sudden pause in the bun onslaught. A commotion started in the distance down the country road, blocked by buns. Rabbit bodies were flying into the air. The definite sound of gunfire could be heard. The Fudds let-up a cheer as buns broke off from them to engage the new foe.
Vans plowed through the bun lines towards Blake's men. Doors opened and men in military clothes, a red flame on their sleeves, leaped-out and battled the buns. The buns fell back, giving the Fudds a breather as these new, strange men engaged the buns. Two men step out of the lead vehicle and open one of it's rear doors. A man stepped out in black dress uniform with a red eye emblem on his collar with a slightly smaller in build then Eugene followed by two men in white robes, chanting "Praise the Dark One!"
Eugene stared in disbelief. "Wade? What in El'mah's name are you doing here?"
Wade looked over to Eugene. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I could not stand by while they slaughtered you, regardless of our ideological differences."
"Fouriers!" (STOMP!) "We're being rescued by Fouriers?! You know what kind of implications this is going to have on the Army of Fudd in general???" Wade looked down at Major Blake as the bun protested. His fists tightened instinctively at the sight of Blake. "Sergeant, you never told me we had Fouriers in our bac..."
"Eugene, what is this vermin doing here?" Wade snatched Blake off the ground and quickly positioned his thumbs into the *POP*ping position. Eugene's rifle centered on his chest. Wade's body guards immediately point their guns at Eugene.
"Put the Major down, Wade. He's on our side."
"This vermin is a friend?! All of Frith's spawn must die. Go ahead and shoot me because I've already died. So death holds no fear for me. I'll kill him before you can kill me."
"That 'vermin' as you call him has saved more human lives and sent more buns to their deaths then you can ever hope to attain yourself. I also owe him my life several times, Wade. AND he's the sole reason the authorities didn't come after you after that fiasco up in Bangor."
Wade drops Blake. "I owe you for what you've done for me. In repayment for that I will never harm you. BUT that is only as long as you never interferes or tries to harm any of my men. You can never truly trust a bun unless he's accepted The Dark One's Gift."
"Enough's enough, Wade, we need to get out of here," Eugene replied.
"Enough of your men have died here. Jump in the vans, my men will provide cov..." Wade was interrupted as a loud air horn sounded nearby. Chris came tearing up in his '78 Buick, plowing through buns to Eugene's position.
Eugene shook his head. Chris never seemed to care about the amount of danger around him. He turned back to Wade. "As you were saying..."
"My men will provide cover. Get yours out of here."
(STOMP!) "You heard him, Eugene. Sound retreat!"
The Fudds didn't hesitate as they piled into the vans and Chris' Buick.
1-See the Lubbock Battle Part 24b
Return to the
(STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!) "We will not let them get away. Call in the reserves now!" Jerry CrimsonPaw barked.
As Eugene and Blake oversaw the loading of the vehicles, the buns redoubled their attack and they found themselves battling axe and claw with the enemy. Some of Wade's men dove into the fray. In the surge of the battle, Blake was pushed towards the vans. He turned in time to see Eugene and several of Wade's men get enveloped in a wall of fluff.
"NO!" (STOMP!) Blake turned to leap after his right hand man. His wife , Carolyn, saw what was happening from the next vehicle over and pitched her purse at Blake, knocking him out of the air, unconscious.
"Get him in this vehicle and get us out of here," she commanded in a no nonsense tone. We can't afford to loose both of them!"
Wade turned to one of his group of men.
"Retrieve Sgt Pomerleau at all costs."2
They saluted their lord and attacked the buns with bezerker's rage, white foam of madness coming from their mouths. "FOR THE DARK ONE!!!!!" they yell as they dive into the fray of buns near where Eugene vanished. Wade turned and ordered his vans to plow through the bun ranks and head back to the mill.
2--Author's Note: Wade's men would know that this order implies not to return until the mission is completed.
Return to the
Chris was oblivious to what had happened to his brother. He was too busy trying to get out himself. The buns couldn't stop his 3.5 ton steel frame beast, but they sure tried. The Fudd in the seat next to him looked at the modified dash board in disbelief and shook his head. He jumped slightly in his seat as four buns became one with the bumper and bunny parts slammed into the windshield. Chris turned-on the wipers, but like with bugs, the blades only smeared the mess worse. He tried the wiper fluid, but it didn't help.
"[PiG-13] this! Would you mind pressing that yellow button over there?"
The Fudd next to him depressed the button. The scent of old, stale urine filled the vehicle as the blessed liquid was sprayed onto the windshield. That solved the smear problem in a hurry.
(chuckle) "I got that rig via mail order from Canada," Chris stated as they pulled onto the main road behind the Fourier vans and left the Blake Farm/Fudd base behind.
Return to the
Cheers went-up from the bunny horde as their commander, Jerry, hopped forward. They swarmed around him and his brother, Gus, hoisting them above the crowd. They were slowly carried towards the center of the Fudd compound. There was still sporadic fighting here and there, but it was obvious who had won this battle.
"We did it!" (excitedfluff) "We are victorious!" Gus exclaimed.
(dejectedfluff) "Did we?" Jerry replied. "Look at the number of buns this cost us. We may have won but we were denied a total victory." (eyesnarrow) "I want to know the identity of that rescue team." (STOMP!) The buns hoisting Jerry above the horde collapsed under his fury. The cheering paused and the crowd parted around him. He stared around at them. "Remember those who fell today! They helped bring an end to Fudds in Maine!" He paused as the horde around him cheered. "But it's not over. I want bomb deactivation teams to scour each building carefully before anybun else enters. Who knows what kind of surprises the Fudds left behind." (STOMP!) Buns rushed to comply. "And I want to know who that" Jerry pointed towards the few fighting groups left, "group of 'rescuers' are!" (STOMP!) Buns scrambled to obey their commander's demands.
As he turned, a trussed-up human monkey was dragged-up to him. The head doe of the group that brought him forward bowed her head. "We have your answer to who rescued the Fudds, sir." (salutefluff) She yanked back on the hair of the human monkey. "Identify yourself!"
The human spat just short of Jerry's paws. "My death means nothing, we will be remembered as martyrs and darkness approaches. We are legion."
Jerry sheathed and unsheathed his claws in rapid succession. "FOURIERS!" (STOMP!) "We have proof! We finally have proof that the two groups ARE working together." I want this one kept alive. We'll need to interrogate him further later."
"You will not taint me." He bites down on something in his mouth and black goop oozes from the mouth. The human's eyes roll up into his head.
"Keep clear of him, he might be contaminated." (STOMP!) " Private Joey!"
A young buck scrambled up next to Jerry and (salutefluff).
Jerry nodded in approval. "Call in the portable Spam-O-Matics™, it's time we put an end to the last few hot spots in this fight." The buck saluted again and darted off.
"Spam-O-Matics™, Commander?" Gus inquired.
(shrugfluff) "The Fouriers we had captured in Bangor willingly threw themselves into one, maybe these are just as crazy."
Soon afterwards, Spam-O-Matics™ on wheels rolled into view and were switched on. The noise only seemed to infuriate the few Fouriers left. Buns began to get flung into the spammers as quickly as the Fouriers could bat them out of the air and towards the huge food processors. "REVENGE FOR OUR FALLEN COMRADES! THE DARK ONE WILL PREVAIL!" they chanted as they continued to hack at the buns around them.
"Shut 'em off! Shut 'em off!" (franticfluff) "We'll have to finish them the old fashion way. Envelop them!"
The few Fouriers left standing had no chance against the tidal wave of fluff that fell upon them.
Return to the
"Nothing."
(STOMP!) "What do you mean, nothing?"
(droopears) "The Fudd monkeys must have wiped out the system as soon as they knew they had no hope of surviving the battle."
Jerry (gesturefluff) around himself at the monstrosity of a computer system, the Fudds called the Falcon VI. "I want this whole thing carefully dismantled such that it can be rebuilt when we return to DEWComm."
"Return?" (surprisefluff) "We just got here..."
"Are you questioning my orders, Corporeal?" (glare)
The bun cowered under Jerry's glare. "Nnnno sir."
Jerry softened-up as he realized he was scaring the other bun. "We lost too many buns to hold this base. I wish we could hold it, but who knows when those psycho Fouriers might return." (STOMP!) "I want us to be able to roll out of here by sundown. A group of volunteers will remain behind and establish an outpost."
"Should the volunteers be prepared to torch the monkey buildings?"
(negativefluff) "A fire would attracted unwanted attention. But" (fangygrin) "they should be prepared to leave a few traps of our own design as a...'welcome home' present should the Fudds or their Fourier allies return."
"Yes, sir." (salutefluff)
To be continued in The Prisoner
Return to the
Maine Battle '99 16-Epilogue 1 of 3
Blake stirred, nose twitched and he opened his eyes. He immediately leaps to his paws and looks around. His wife was at his side. "Where?!"
"Hush," Carolyn replied. "We're safe in the old Kimberly-Clark mill over in Winslow. You've been unconscious for a day."
"Eugene?"
Carolyn closed her eyes and shook her head in the negative. "Wade's men that were sent to get him have yet to return."
Blake drooped his ears. "Then he's gone.." he drifted off a moment and there was a rap at the door. He looked up. "Enter."
A rather large bun with silvery-gray fur wearing black robes covering her head walks (not hops) in. "Major Blake, Lord Wade, the Defender of the Faith, would like to see you at your convenience."
Blake stared for a moment, but couldn't see inside the dark cloak. He finally asked, "Are you one of Sybil's kits?" (hesitantfluff)
"No, but all of the Gifted are children of the Dark One. He's our savior. You fight for the Fudds, but why haven't you accepted the gift to remove the bun curse from you forever?"
Blake replied quietly at first and then rose in volume until he's voice was uncomfortably loud for the small room. "Curse? You are the one cursed"
She pulls back the hood. Blake could see the madness in her eyes. "The gift I have been given has only made me stronger. I have not been cursed but given the mission of destroying all the vermin. I have no unnatural desires. I have only one purpose. The Dark One has made me stronger and made me something."
"Something? You've turned from eating human flesh to eating the flesh of your own kind. You're worse then the buns we fight against. Cannibalism is worse then slavery, worse then death..."
"For someone who holds humans so dear you seem to be shortsighted. I am not a bun anymore. I am what the Dark One originally planned us to be before we were tainted by Frith. The eating of their flesh is only the hunter and the hunted. We are everything He planned and killing them is only right. Why question what the Dark One has done for you. He has sent you a gift to protect you from slavery. I would think someone as you would understand this."
"Understand? Understand insanity. I can only pity you. You've used some of the same logic as our enemy--hunter and hunted, just substitute the prey word-for-word. I can control my devilbunny urges, my unnatural desires. Can you say the same?"
"Unnatural? Everything about me is natural, everything about me has been reborn. I am the apex of our species. But enough of this idle chatter, the Lord calls. Will you go?"
"Lead on."
Return to the
Maine Battle '99 17-Epilogue 2 of 3
Blake was led into a small room, with a window overlooking the Kennebec River. Multiple battle standards were draped across the walls depicting scenes of devilbunnies being slain. A black marble table with blood red veins was in the center of the room, with Wade behind it staring out the window. Without turning, he greets, "Major Blake, I'm glad you could spare me a few moments. Hopefully, you are feeling better after your ordeal."
"I've never been one for small talk, Commander Wade. You don't believe in our system, and I don't believe in yours."
Wade continues to look out the window. "The buns might think they have won. But they are wrong. After the Bangor debacle, I learned a valuable lesson, that I'm not yet ready to face the vermin head-on. Do you study history, Major Blake."
"I am a graduate of the US Air Force Academy, 5th in my class."
"How much do you know about Lexington and Concord?"
Blake paused a moment and then (gigglefluffed). Wade continues to look out the river. "A lot, we've used those tactics from time to time in the past."
Wade points out just as the sun starts to set. "Do you see that?" he points to the setting sun. "They think they have won, but like Concord they were unable to get their objective. Getting in was easy. It will be the getting out that will be hard.
"In Bangor I didn't control the territory. But here, I AM master. I will attack them where they are weakest. I will strike fear into their hearts and I will make them pay with blood for every inch of land. In Bangor, I let them choose the battleground, but now, they're here, on my ground. As soon as the sun sets, I will be in control of the battleground again."
Blake hopped closer to Wade to get a better view of the sunset. The large picture window faced southwest and provided a 180 degree view down river. He looked to the left and saw a blood red moon rise. "You see that?" (inquirefluff)
"Yes. It is an omen whether good or bad, I don't know. But I plan that it will be the precursor of what is to come. Even as I speak, my men are starting to attack bun warrens and communication lines. No where is safe for them in Central Maine." Wade gripped the windowsill tightly. "I'm going to rescue Eugene Pomerleau. Your men are welcome to help purge our area of these vermin."
"Pomerleau is as good as dead." (droopears, saghead) "He's one of the few Fudds I know who's naturally immune to bunnyvirus. They can't convert him. I guarantee you they won't be able to crack him under torture. He's drunk so much Moxie™ in his life that his flesh is probably toxic to them. He has contributed to many devilbunny defeats and humiliations. They won't keep him alive long as a prisoner." (defeatedsighfluff) "And I don't have the resources to even attempt a scouting mission, never mind a rescue mission.
"As to your offer, the Army of Fudd can not show unity with the Four, not now at least. To join you now would give our enemy the fuel they need to go into all out war. If that occurs, then we have already lost. I am pledge to protect the innocent, those who don't know about the Evil that Fluffs™. By joining you, I would destroy that and no child would ever be born happy again. You can fight them your way, I'll continue in mine."
"I knew you would say this and I won't stop you. We all fight for the same thing regardless of our differences. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like and anything you need, we'll supply it to you. My promise to never harm you or your family is real and I will never break that as long as you are not a direct threat to my men. Regardless of whether we can show support, remember that I will always support you and your campaign against the vermin."
Wade turns around and extends his hand to Blake. "Can we shake at least between leaders?"
Blake looks Wade in the eye momentarily. *He believes what he says,* he thinks to himself. Blake leaps upon the table so that Wade needs not stoop over. He reaches over with a paw, claws sheathed and places it in Wade's hand.
"Now that is done, what do you wish to do?"
"Provide my men with transport to Portland in the morning. Fudd survivors are to rendevous there. I'll regroup and we shall see what we can do from there."
"Done."
Return to the
Maine Battle '99 18-Epilogue 3 of 3
[Two days after the battle]
Two vans pull-over on the edge of Deering Oaks Park in Portland. As Chris Pomerleau pulls-up behind them, about 24 humans and a bun get out of the vans. Chris puts his car in park, gets out and joins them. The vans pull away. He turns towards Major Blake.
"Now what?"
"We wait," was Blake's reply.
Shortly, a half-dozen nearby grey squirrels foraging for food stop their search and scamper towards the party. Another six join them from the treetops, mini-crossbows strapped to their backs. One, slightly larger of build, scampers to the forefront.
(greetingsflick) "It is good to see that some of your command has survived, Major. Welcome to Deering Outpost. This way..."
The squirrels lead the group to the other side of the park and to the Oakhurst Dairy processing plant on the edge of of the University of Southern Maine-Portland Campus. They enter a side door and climb a flight of stairs. They pause outside a room near the stair landing.
"Our command center," the lead squirrel chitters. "Puffcheeks is expecting you."
"Thank you." Blake enters, followed by his wife and a couple of the Fudds. The room looks like a manager's office, except for the bank of computer terminals on the far wall and the small, squirrel-sized chair sitting on top of the desk. A squirrel sitting back on its hindpaws turns from the terminal bank and greets his guests.
(saluteflick) "It is an honor to meet you again, Major. I just wish it was on better terms."
"The same here, Puffcheeks Busheytail. You look more and more like your father every time we meet."
(gigglechitter) "Don't tell Mom that. She believes I look more like my grandsire. Quarters are being prepared for your men, Major. You are welcome to use our outpost as your command center as long as needed. You'll have our full backing and that of Namakata as the need arises. I've received the orders from the Council of Elders this morning. Too many perished up there," (drooptail) "including several close friends of mine."
"We have received word from the Lumberjacks. Their main camp was attacked by superior numbers. They were able to defeat the buns, but at great cost. The thirty or so surviving members are making their way to Namakata and will wait their for your orders."
Blake droops his ears a moment. "Whoever the bun commander is, he's efficient." (wearysighfluff) "We will avenge all of them, Puffcheeks, trust me. It may take time to rebuild our strength, but our fallen comrades will not be forgotten. In the meantime, I need to get word out to our Fudd allies."
Puffcheeks tailwaves Blake to a nearby terminal. "Be my guest."
Return to the
*****BUNNYSTUMPER DELUXE™ WIDEBEAM*****
TO: All Fudd personal
FROM: Major Steve A. Blake
My fellow Fudds,
This is a dark time in our history. Two days ago, devilbunny forces here in Maine attacked Maine Fudd HQ with overwhelming superior numbers. More then three-quarters of our forces were destroyed or worse (pause) captured. It will take time to analyze where we went wrong, the fluffers seemed to have some inside information. (STOMP!) The HQ, my families homestead and central Maine are now in fluffy paws.
At the same time, the buns launched a similar attack upon the largest of the Lumberjack Camps in the North Woods with similar results. Somehow this unknown bun commander knew exactly when and where the many of the Lumberjacks would meet before accepting fall hunting patrol assignments with the Maine Warden service. They suffered 70% losses in the attack, but were able to drive off their attackers.
Among the missing and presumed (hoped to be) dead include my second in command, Sgt. Eugene Pomerleau. (droopears)
Like most of the survivors, I'm still suffering from shock over this defeat. When I have a better grip of myself, I will submit a list of the missing/dead to NoCO with recommendations of posthumous promotions for all on that list. Our numbers are so few that we can't even send out any scouting parties to determine current bun strength outside of Portland.
This is not the worst part, however. The only reason I am here today is due to our rescuers. (saghead) Due to their actions, we lived, but at what cost in the war? We were rescued by Wade and his Fourier followers. We went our separate ways as soon as it was possible to do so, but the damage has been done. The buns will use this against us, claiming both groups are working closely together. Prepare yourselves for the possible consequences.
(wearysighfluff) I feel so old and tired all of a sudden...any lone Fudds within the state of Maine who receive this message, do not, I repeat, DO NOT approach the Maine Fudd HQ for it is in enemy paws. Report to Deering Oaks Park, Portland for reassignment.
My fellow Fudds, be vigilant, keep your axe sharp, your soakers filled, and watch your toes.
Major Steve A. Blake, pro-Fudd devilbunny
Maine
[Blake suddenly sags forward just before the transmission ends.]
*****END TRANSMISSION AND ENCRYPTION*****
End (for now)
Return to the