章 2: Ever-Striving Perseverance
As the morning dew had barely settled on the grasses of sleeping city, gunfire awoke the Ottawans as the Overboss and Bishop made their descent into the Illinois Valley. It had been nearly two months since the last volleys of gunfire had sounded and this faction skirmish was starting to piss off the locals. Homemade armored vehicles helped push troops on both sides forwards. Ottawans began to retreat as both sides assumed they would. However, Illinois National Guard trucks and two Army Strikers rolled into the downtown area of Ottawa.
"You sure this is gonna work Dr. Sue?" Asked an Ottawan in a military style uniform.
"If my calculations and the work of our welders and National Guard holds, the Ghost of Ottawa will emerge the victor of this battle. Now, set that radio's frequency."
"Yes Doctor."
As the Radio Operator set the Frequency from the New Chalet Command Center, the order was given to "Unleash Perseverance". As the Guardsmen ceased their fire and took cover behind the Strikers, one grabbed a megaphone and called out to the two factions.
"Surrender now, and we promise to spare you!"
"Oh yeah. I'm just quaking in my spiky boots! Listen here, after we deal with this ill-conceived plan, I will claim the Bishop's head! YOU HEAR ME!?" Yelled back the Overboss in response.
"You shall never have my head raider scum. However, we can both agree to set aside our differences to deal with these... Interlopers." Said the Bishop, racking a slug into his 12-gauge.
"Can't say we didn't try.... COME ON OUT! SHOW EM WHAT YOU'VE GOT PERSEVERANCE!" Yelled the Corporal.
Suddenly, something emerged that was absolutely frightening to both sides. Walking out from in between the Strikers and transport trucks was a powered-hydraulic suit of armor. The Ottawan Flag was draped as a cape down his back and in his hands was a browning-high power .50 caliber belt-fed machine gun. Bullets ripped through the armored vehicles like they were made of paper, the sound of metal footfalls and ammo brass hitting the ground masked the screams of agony and terror.
"OTTAWANS! ADVANCE!" A metallic, gravelly voice called as it marched toward the two factions' lines. The Ghost of Ottawa tossed a car out of the way of the Strikers as they pushed up. The Overboss and Bishop jumped into their transports and pushed westward, fleeing the Armored Ottawan.
Over the next few days, the two factions would run as far as the Twin Bridges in the center of the Quad Cities. This "Armored Ottawan" was a force of nature. However, he wasn't just feared for his strength, but all his cunning mind.
"Busch Hunter, they're in the target area... Release the Crop-Killers."
The two factions froze as off in the distance, the low hum of single engine aircraft began to fill the air. As the Ghost reloaded the .50 cal machine gun, modified crop-dusters flew over the bridge. However, rather than spraying pesticides, they rained napalm gel down upon the only exits off the bridge.
With the single flick of his wrist, the Busch Hunter's lit cigar twirled through the air, landing in the gel, igniting it instantly. The two factions and their armies were cornered, and had come face to face with the Armored Ottawan known as the Ghost of Ottawa.
"As of today, you have two choices, die upon this bridge by the fires of napalm or by my hand, either is inconsequential, or join under my banner and together, we can bear our fangs at the true enemy, showing them the true might of the Midwest."
"Which.... is?" Asked the Overboss shaking. His eyes locked the the cold, piercing gaze of the Ghost who let out a brief laugh before answering his question, using a tone far more serious than before.
"The New World Order is the enemy of every American. That much you should've known by now."
The Ghost's cold expression had become annoyed. Clearly, these two idiots hadn't even tried to learn history from history.
"Unfortunately, my patience has run out. Make your choice... NOW." Said the Ghost as the Ottawan Soldiers took aim at the two of them. With glances of both acceptance and agreement, the two factions surrendered, and the Midwest finally fell under one banner.
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