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Fan Fiction

Posted By: Chuckles<chucklecity@yahoo.com>
Date: 25 June 2004, 10:07 AM

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The bases had emptied for one last frenzied assault on the flags when Chuckles received the message. It unnerved him. His younger brother Bojo had been left to help him defend, and that was plenty. With that younger clown beside him he could take on Hell with a bucket of water. Still, the message was chilling.

"When we are done with you two," Hogg had stated flatly, "I am going cut off your big red nose and stuff it for a souvenir."

Threats never bothered Chuckles. If anything they amused him. But Hogg never threatened: he promised . The roar of a Warthog could be heard in the background of the message. They were coming.

"Bojo", Chuckles barked, "Don't go outside the base. If you get sniped--well, just don't get sniped."
"Sure." The younger clown replied looking at him quizzically. "Why are you fondling your nose?" Before he could reply, a warthog slid to a stop out front. Bojo went forward to defend. Chuckles knew that the young clown was approaching the top of his game. Nobody would make it inside.

"It's Hogg with three noobies!" he shouted into his headset. Since they had iced Turper early on, that meant that only Nate was back at the red base on defense. Chuckles heard Bojo's shotgun firing furiously, and then a rocket exploded. He came running back in, grinning. "Three shots, three kills!" he reported. "Four if you count Hogg fragging himself with his RL! He must have tripped as he fired." Chuckles looked troubled. Tripped and fragged himself? Hogg?! Something wasn't right.

On the top level of their base, Hogg lay barely conscious, surveying the damage. The over-shield had saved his life as planned, but not by much. His left leg was numb and would barely move, some of his MJOLNIR armor was breached, and his shield was gone. He had tried to get up, but was thus far unable. Worst of all, his RL had been destroyed. Going against Chuckles one-on-one with one leg, no shield and a mere shotgun was suicide . . . for most anybody else. He tried once again to stand.

"Go out front and make sure that Hogg was fragged--I want to see a body." Chuckles told Bojo. His concern confused his little brother, who noticed that he was fondling his nose again. Just then, Lexicus' voice crackled through his headset. "The red base is empty! They left nobody to guard the flag."


"Bojo! Get back-" His words were cut short by the report of a rifle; Chuckles saw him fall motionless just outside the door. All threats now forgotten, pushed away by rage and realization, he grabbed his sniper rifle. Chuckles understood now. It was a trap. This wasn't about the flag. This was about getting rid of the Clowns once and for all.

He knew that Nate expected him to rush out recklessly to avenge his brother. This, of course, was pure fantasy. He would do his killing now and his crying later. Nate had fragged Chuckles' brother: Nate was going to die.

He tossed a grenade towards the front inner wall of the base. Using the cloud of dust and debris as cover, Chuckles rushed forward. Jumping to the ground at the doorway he rolled out sideways until he was behind his fallen brother. He carefully brought his rifle to rest across Bojos chest. He looked like just another body out front. Chuckles knew where the sniper would be: not on the left or right where convention would dictate, but the middle. If he were Nate, that's where he would be.

As the air cleared, he could see his target crouched behind a big rock in the middle. He drew a bead. Just then, a voice crackled from one of the many enemy helmets strewn in front of the base: "Hogg, was that your grenade?"

Hogg was in the base!

Chuckles aimed and squeezed, dropping Nate with a single shot. Leaping to his feet with his shotgun, he saw that Hogg had just reached the bottom of the ladder. The Clown was seeing red.

Hogg tried to shoot, but Chuckles' first hurried shot was low, blowing the gun out of his hands. The clown then belted Hogg's chin with the stock of his rifle and sent him flying across the room. "I have a souvenir for you, old friend" he stated evilly as he strode towards him. Hogg staggered to his feet, swaying like a tree in a storm. "I gave one to Nate, but since you and me go back such a long way, I thought I'd give you two ." He placed the shotgun to his head, but Hogg dropped under the barrel, fell forward and, with the last of his strength, launched himself straight up under the clown's chin.

Stunned, Chuckles stumbled backwards, lost his balance and then fell on his face. Hogg grabbed the clown's pistol and pressed it firmly into the back of his head. "Vive la mort, vive la guerre" he mumbled, as he fired three quick shots. The words were drowned in the noise of the pistol. No matter: the clown didn't know French anyway.

Hogg was up the ladder with the flag and had almost entered the warp when he stopped and returned to the fallen clown. He had one last thing to do.