3The door to Rat's private office in his command bunker hissed open. He heard hoofsteps as Zebra entered, and then the doors closing again.
"I've been expecting you, Zebra." He did not turn around to meet his friend. Rather, he remained standing behind his desk and staring a large computer screen displaying a map of the neighborhood. It bathed him in blue light, but did little otherwise to brighten the darkened room.
"Is it true?" Zebra asked. Rat did not reply. "Did the crocs declare war on us?" With that final word; 'us', Rat snarled and turned around, nostrils flared.
"US?'' he screamed, jumping on top of his desk to appear taller. "THERE IS NO 'US', BARCODE BOY!" Zebra was not intimidated, as he was familiar with Rat's frequent, alcohol-induced outbursts. "I'M IN THIS ONLY BECAUSE, IN A MOMENT OF GODDAMN STUPIDITY, I ACCEPTED THE JOB YOU GAVE ME. AND NOW, I'M STUCK FIGHTING A WAR. WE MIGHT BE ON THE SAME SIDE, YOU SON OF A BITCH, BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE US A TEAM!" He stopped suddenly, his breathing heavy. "Needless to say," he finished calmly. "I'm going to work with you until until this crisis is resolved, but…" He paused. A thin, evil smile formed on his lips. "..that doesn't mean I have to like it."
One day, four hours later.
Zeeba Eeeta Fraternity House
The backyard of Zeeba Zeeba Eeta's fraternity house was abuzz with activity.
In one corner, several crocs were attempting to load guns and munitions into a hastily rented trailer that was parked where a hedge had previou stood. As they carefully maneuvered a munitions crate marked "Boolits" into the trailer, one croc stubbed his toe, and howled. He grabbed his foot and started swearing, unaware that without his assistance holding the crate, the other two were unbalanced. Both non-injured crocs and the crate tumbled off of the trailer's ramp. The scene would have been almost comical if not for the somber mood.
The yard's other corner hosted an equally hastily rented (read: stolen) anti-missile weapons emplacement being assembled by a neighbor of the fraternity's named Floyd. He had allied himself with them out of his extreme hatred for Rat.
Tucked behind the tool shed, the recently promoted 'General' Bob stood drilling some crocs on how to properly handle rifles. He was less than successful; half his class was suffering from gunshot-related injuries.
Larry stood on a balcony overlooking the backyard, frowning. Next to him stood his young son, Junior.
"Dad," his son began. "Why are you part of this?"
"Son," Larry replied "Zeeba Neighba has offended us too meeny times." Junior frowned.
"Being angry about Justin's death I can understand." the young croc said. "But he's never offended you multiple times."
"Oh, son." Larry replied. "You jus bad eet math." Junior frowned, but declined to comment on his father's lie. "Beesides," Larry continued. "We ess launching first srike." Junior turned rapidly to his father."
"What?"
"So Rat and Zebra are really going through with this 'war' thing?' Goat asked.
"Yep!' Pig replied cheerily. "Guard Duck even provided me with one of his people over there to guard me!"
Pig gestured to a man wearing a suit and dark sunglasses who was checking Pig's car for anything that could harm the party. Suddenly, the man turned and ran, throwing Pig and Goat backwards as he did so.
"Get down, sir!" he shouted.
The car exploded. Twisted pieces of metal flew everywhere, and one of the rearview mirrors struck Goat on the head, knocking the mammal unconscious. Shakily, Pig stood up, and helped his bodyguard to his feet.
"Inform Rat." he said. "The crocs have struck back."
I'm surprised I actually got to his chapter.
Between all of my other fics, and my real life, it's nice to get back to this one story occasionally.
