Dusk Is Never Early

The City Dogs were busy maintain a M1 tank while the Marines joined the force that cleared away debris from the collapsed top section of a building. B-2s, F-16s and F-15s were busy homing missiles at the 'Dark Cloud' (local name for the Kor Ondrone).

"Port, left, by 45 degrees… halt," Rogue Jacob was in charge of directing the driver of the tank, Li'l Jacob. Carl Jason manned the turrets.

"Oh, c'mon, brother!" Both 'port' and 'left' mean the same!"

'Let it be, LJ. You drive, I direct. Seen anything suspicious yet, CJ?"

"No, bud," Carl Jason scouted the surroundings with a pair of binoculars. "Nothin' yet. Jus' the U.S. military patrolling the streets."

"Okay; LJ, forward by 80 kmph."

The tank gave a sudden jolt forward.

"Ho, sh… hey, can't ya drive a tank properly?"

Li'l Jacob shook his head. "C'mon, you take over."

"Alright. Move over. Let ME show you how it's done!" RJ had never driven anything in his life, except for driving people mad. "Okay, here we goooooo —"

The tank's gear shifted to such an extent, it began accelerating at the speed of a Nissan Skyline GTR.

"Whooohooo!"

The tank's caterpillar tracks whirred at a breakneck pace. And at breakneck pace, they almost broke their necks when the tank slammed hard into a T-90. The T-90's exterior frame wobbled and an enraged tank commander appeared from the hatch door.

"What d'ya think you're doing?" the commander waved a wrench in one hand and a two-way radio in the other. "Get outta my sight before I blow a hole in that M1 of yours! Scram!"

The M1 reversed a bit, before making another dent on the left side of the heavily-armored T-90 tank.

"Hoiii! Don't ya know how to drive a tank?"

RJ was feeling confused and sweating badly. He rotated a knob, pressed a button, pulled a lever and kicked a pedal.

The tank was now in a strange dancing position. The built-in hydraulics pulled the c-tracks up and down. Extra hidden attachments like homing missiles, green neon lights, boom box speakers, a large US flag and wide exhaust channels appeared.

"Whoa! How'd you do that?" the tank commander watched in awe. He had driven tanks for 30 years but never before did he ever witness a tank evolve into a party decker.

The boom box played a rap tune – 'The Creeper Rap' by Dan Bull. "Boom, boom, boom! I can't stop singing this bloody tune, tune, tune!"

At each syllable of the song, the M1 rattled within.

"That ain't no proper M1! That's a fake one!" the tank commander descended into his tank. "Die, intruders!"

The T-90's main turret rotated anticlockwise by 45⁰ and shot. The missile bashed against the M1 tank. RJ pressed a few more buttons to bring it to its normal stance. The rap tune died down instantly.

But during this delay, the T-90 loaded another shell. It fired. BAM!

This time, the missile hit the opposing tank directly at the top turret.

"Haawoooh! Ow, man!" CJ dropped down into the cabin. He went for the second turret – the LMG. The entire top portion of the City Dogs' tank had been blown off, leaving a hole behind. Now the tank had a permanent sun roof.

"Why you little… CJ, fire up the LMG," Rogue Jacob kept an eye on the other tank through the narrow horizontal slit at the front. "Okay; LJ, check the back for some AT. Get it ready – quick!"

Li'l Jacob nodded and set to work. There were a few heavy gears stored at the back of the tank's cabin. After searching around for a few moments, he found the cylindrical object he was seeking.

"Found it!" LJ crouched beneath the hole with the AT in his hands. "Alright, 3… 2… 1… and —"

There was a loud SMASH. The tank shook the way your parents do to you to wake you up.

"Brothers, get me some suppressing attacks on that thing. I can't concentrate properly."

"You bet it, LJ. Well, you heard him. Get ready."

"3… 2… 1… SUPRESSING!"

The T-90's armor was blown off like a puffball mushroom blowing off spores. But the tank wasn't fully destroyed yet. The LMG turret aimed at the slits of the M1 tank.

"Holy –" Rogue Jacob ducked his head down, just in time to save his skull from getting battered by the battering LMG bullets for battery.

Meanwhile, Li'l Jacob loaded another rocket. He got into position and waited for the signal.

"3… 2… 1… SUPPRESSING!"

Carl Jason barraged away at the other tank with his LMG. Li'l Jacob stood up, aimed through the scope, and released the rocket.

Just like the fireworks show on 4th of July, the T-90 tank exploded in a fiery combination of metal, flesh, blood, entrails, organs, limbs, skin, cloth and gears. And coincidentally, RJ accidentally pressed a button on the dashboard with his elbow that made the US flag appear again. The flag added to the effect well.

"Phew! I don't know what's up with these marines. I know the cops have been turned to zombies, but where's the SWAT?"

And to answer Rogue Jacob's question, thirty or so SWAT gunships, armed with Gatling guns on their wings, flew overhead.

The rotor-bladed aircrafts were headed for NYC westwards.

"Hmm… why's there a large air force of choppers heading 'that' way?"

"Dunno; maybe something big, major and important is happening."

They got off the half-broken tank and searched around for a faster mode of transport.

"Ooo… nice bikes!" CJ pointed at some FrisBee 1900 freeway bikes parked outside a departmental store named 'Big Mart' (but some taggers had spray-painted over the letters to make it appear as 'Pig Fart').

The Bricksmasher squad crossed the road, laid a hand on each bike and said, "Yeah, the bikes are untouched. They're totally intact."

Carl Jason and Li'l Jacob went back to the M1 tank to fetch their guns and stuff. Rogue Jacob examined the 'Dark Cloud'.

The sun was almost setting. Night would strike again soon. Then it'd be showtime. But suddenly, RJ's vision was blurred by a red ray of light. When he looked at the source of the light, he saw a sharpshooter crouching on the rooftop of a 7-storeyed building. The sharpshooter's fingers went to the trigger of the M98B and pulled.

***

It was almost night time when Demonstar Black set out with a Toshika-50 skiff stolen from a dockyard. Beneath the purple-violet glow of the evening sky, the skiff hovered above a sea of blue-red. In the distance, there was nothing besides the emptiness of the vast, vast sea. But behind the skiff's trail of diverging currents, the city was alive with a yellowish glow beneath the dark mass hovering atop the highest skyscraper.

Silence was good. So was speed and stealth.

Daemon Black would be needing those well for stealing a fighter jet from an aircraft carrier.

He thought the ships would be quite offshore but he found battleships, frigates, destroyers and eventually, aircraft carriers.

"Thank God, that none of them have turned on their lights," he thought to himself. "Okay, so here I go."

He threw a harpoon at the side of a carrier but missed and fell into the waters. DB tugged on the rope attached to it, to try to bring it back.

If you've ever seen a military video or played a game involving aircraft carriers, you'd understand why it was so difficult to grab an edge. These ships have high edges and high sides (hull) that slope concavely.

There and then, the lights flicked on. He heard some voice-over radio commanding soldiers onboard. There was a sudden clanking of footsteps on metal stairs, a few red light signals and the loud boom of a plane thrusting forwards. Demonstar caught sight of the plane, a Phoenix-9, as it zoomed to the endless, dark sky.

Some more clanking of stairs, a shout, and spotlights activated on every corner (this assault carrier had 18 corners). Ho great! Now he was doomed, unless…

"Help, help! Somebody help!" Demonstar mimicked the cries of a castaway. He even waved his arms, jumped about and tried to look stupid to gain their attention. "Help, help, you lazy sons of —"

One of the spotlights flashed straight at his eyes, causing him to squint.

"Don't worry, you're safe now," an army major called down to him with a megaphone. "Swim down here and grab a hold of this ladder." A few SEALs let down a rope ladder (not that it looked like a rope; the ladder was made of ropes). "There. Now hurry up, please. What? Can't swim? Okay we're sending some SEALs down to help you."

Two SEALs began climbing down the rope ladder. They looked more aggressive than friendly.