Blammer

[Coop]

This is a Newgrounds FanFiction, based upon the goings on in the Portal. It was started as a run up to me getting 20,000 Blams and each additional 1,000 Blams spawned a new chapter. Now, the launch takes place, where I head back in time to April 2004 and start the journey across the Newgrounds landscape.

Chapter 1

Looking back at his time in service of the Portal of Newgrounds, Coop still believed that signing up was the right decision. As a young man with no experience, he had enrolled for the portal defences and was subjected to one of the most brutal training regimes, in order to prepare him for what was to come on the fields of the Portal.

"Good morning maggots! I am Sergeant Major QuikFox and I have been given the responsibility to train you up for duty on the Portal. Do not view yourselves as worthy, just because you managed to get this far - you won't even be worthy if you pass the training." The square jaw jutting out, masked only by a coating of stubble that you could strike a match on, continued to bark a rough welcome, psyching out a few of the new recruits as they stood there. Coop looked over the scene as he stood to attention, resolute in his determination to take a stand against the seemingly endless supply of crap that blighted the portal these days. Sensing the calm, the Sergeant Major marched up to the face of a recruit, firing questions one after the other:

"You, citizen! What's your name?" The black polished peak of QuikFox's dress cap bounced off Coop's nose, but still he did not flinch. With his eyes almost completely obscured, QuikFox still looked like quite a menacing sight, almost akin to General M-Bison.

"Cooper - 826629, Sergeant!" Coop's response was abrupt and measured and he kept staring at a point just beyond the Sergeant Major's left earlobe as he delivered it.

"Any previous military experience, Mr. Cooper?" QuikFox sneered this question at Coop, sensing that something was not right.

"None, sergeant." Coop kept his emotions in check and stood perfectly still, almost in defiance at the question.

"Then why act like you have?"

"Seen a few movies, sergeant!" Visibly bristling at Coop's quick thinking, the Sergeant Major turned and strolled back to his position, barking further greetings to the newly assembled recruits.

"We'll soon see who is worthy of protecting the portal. You will go to the supplies building and will be issued with fatigues and a bed number for the barracks. You will remove your civilian effects and will assemble back here in fifteen minutes. MOVE IT!" At the mighty bellow of QuikFox, the recruits broke, Coop sprinting through the crowd to get near the front of the queue. A set of black and white fatigues were issued and he was issued with a bed number. Finding his way quickly to the bedside, he stripped out of the civilian gear and donned his equipment with the minimum of fuss.

As he was putting on his boots, he noticed two recruits at opposite beds complaining about how broad the shoulders of the chest protector were.

"It leaves room to grow. You're expected to gain muscle mass while you're here, just as you're expected to be broken down by QuikFox."

"Cooper, wasn't it?"

"I prefer Coop. But yes, it was." Coop tightened his boot and looked across at the man addressing him. "And you?"

"Call me Manic. It sounds a little disturbed, but I tend to go for the name of the band that I like."

"Ah, so you stole the sun from their hearts?" Coop stood up, shaking hands with Manic, glad of a little camaraderie. "Come on, we're going to be late and that's only going to piss him off even more.

"He'll only say that we're late and punish us anyway. I'll take a group punishment, but not a solo one for not having all of the gear together."

"It sounds like you've done this before." Coop pulled on his gloves and stood up.

"I've seen a few movies." Manic tried to suppress a grin, as the pair of them left the barracks and headed back to the parade grounds.

The schooling in the art of war was all too brief - after being designated for punishment by QuikFox for their late arrivals, the recruits were given the basics of a rifle, side arm, bayonet and the armour that they all were issued with, with the minimum of fuss from the Non-Commissioned Officers. The Sergeant Major forced them to run laps of the parade ground in full kit, with the rain pouring down upon them. Those that fell were squarely kicked in the gut, a savage glee on the face of the administering officer.

After three days of training, they were further inducted, by being supplied with live ammunitions and given a whole afternoon on the firing range. With the day gone by, Coop talked to Manic in the evening about his concerns for the recruits.

"This is too basic - the commanders don't care about the quality of the men, just the weight of the numbers." The bunks were all but deserted, as a few recruits caught a brief respite nap, or spent the time outside, trying to contact loved ones.

"It is, but allegedly, we are winning this war. I mean, we've been fighting this conflict for years now. There have been some great men and women that have taken to the portal and are now immortal."

"I know - I've seen the role of honour. Fixit, the machine stands atop the rankings, and we still have many recruits that would challenge it for the lead." Coop folded another piece of kit, as Manic browsed the computer screen by his bed and pulled up a profile.

"Thirty three thousand Blams. I never thought I'd see someone climb that high."

"Ah, the life that a broken robot leads. What should I care what that thing does, as it does not affect me. I'm not an author, merely a judge." Coop slid the barrel back on his sidearm and checked the weapon, before sliding it back into the holster.

"Ah, so you're here for personal gain?"

"How do you mean, Manic?"

"Medals, promotions and so forth." Manic gestured a hand idly. "Perhaps you're hoping to join the hallowed ranks, ahead of a broken robot."

"It's only broken so far as the image it shows all flash before it kills them. And anyway, I haven't decided that yet, but we shall have to see - we're not even into the Police Force yet."

"Civilian militia, mate - we'll get so little training, you'll be lucky to see the Police Force, let alone join them."

"Are you saying I can't handle being a street walking cop?"

"No, I'm saying that the statistics say most new recruits either die or desert within the first few months. Get into it and you're hooked for life."

"It sounds like I'm set for life if I get past a few months then." Coop finished folding his kit and started packing it away into his locker. "What do you think they will do for the rest of the training?"

"Hard to say, Coop. Usually, from what I've heard, they won't have much left to 'teach' us, so they'll throw us into the portal, because we're as prepared as we'll ever be."

"I guess that if we are going as a group onto the fields, we need to stick together and keep away from the front then."

"That sounds sensible, but not too near the back - they can scare the stragglers off with a few loud noises and explosions, no doubt."

"It seems like you've known QuikFox for years already." Manic smiled at Coop's sense of humour and they quietened down as more recruits started to hard themselves back in, falling into bunks, before the corporals called for lights out in the billets.

On the fourth day, the recruits were taken on a route march across terrain similar in most senses to the backdrop of the main battle site - the Flash Portal. They were equipped with full army-style kit for this, which weighed them down substantially and was designed to break the no-hopers out of their delusion that they could cope with life on the battlefield.

[Coop]

Coop and Manic kept towards the middle of the pack, occasionally pushing out to the sides of the crowd, not wanting to get caught in frontal or rear assaults as they had discussed. The march was hard on the recruits, but Coop and Manic carried on, conserving their energy reserves as they saw fit. At one point, the NCOs called a halt for respite and drinks and Coop walked over to Manic, pulling the magazine briefly from his rifle, showing Manic that the contents were clearly live ammunition. His expression was puzzled at the prospect, but Manic nodded, as Coop replaced the magazine.

"Ever seen the Flash Portal?" He said in a hoarse whisper to his associate.

"Never." Manic's eyes widened at the implication that Coop had made and both men gripped their weapons slightly tighter.

The march continued and the recruits started slowing their pace, in spite of the borderline abusive encouragement from the corporals as QuikFox led from the front. Coop watched as he started to fall back, engaging one or two corporals along the way, as if to cover his tracks.

As Coop followed the backward progress of the Sergeant Major, he continued to walk alongside Manic, passing a quick nod to him, indicating the NCO's proximity. As he walked, Manic tilted his gun barrel upward slightly, to which Coop nodded. One of the first things they were taught was that a weapon inclined toward the ground was one that was never meant to kill. Raising it indicated alertness and readiness for a fight.

The air seemed to go thick and Coop suddenly felt very uneasy. He looked down at his arms and saw the hairs start to stand on end, as he felt those on the back of his neck prickle likewise. Turning to Manic, he mouthed the words "what the..?" as a crackle of an electrical discharge rippled at the side of the column, accompanied by a flash of pink-purple light. In a moment of confusion for the recruits, Coop and Manic bolted to the side, taking cover and assessing the threat. The thing appeared to be a sequence of sprites. First it was one banana with arms and legs, jigging up and down, throwing its arms in the air and singing an annoying song, then suddenly, it divided down the middle and became two. As the bananas continued to multiply, Coop swung his rifle around, knocking off the safety and began to spray it with lead, Manic following, with a burst of his own.

As the sound of their gunfire died away slightly, Coop and Manic stumbled backwards of their cover, as the rest of the recruits inexpertly began opening fire on the flash. Soon, lots of spent magazines littered the ground and the bush that Coop and Manic had chosen as cover was reduced to a shredded mess. The smell of roasted banana filled the air and the spam submission breathed its last.

"We're not in Kansas any more, Manic."

"Yeah... At least we know how it is, though." The pair fell back in with the rest of the men and the march continued. Pulling up his dog-tags, Coop checked the back of one, seeing the stats for a second and showed them to Manic.

"BLAMS: Participated in the removal of 1 Crappy Entries"

"I think we'd best stay quiet, but watch your ammo supplies." Manic pulled out his own and checked the score showing. As the two men fell back in, they presented a front of grim determination.

"Don't just stand there, move out!" Bellowed QuikFox and the group trudged onward, toward the desolate wasteland before them. As they walked, more and more of the stalking monstrosities came and were dispatched by the troops. Coop and Manic used their belt knives to put a few out of their misery, to save on the ammunition that was being spent by the rest of the troops.

Later that day, they broke from the road and made camp, inexpertly positioning tents in clusters, crossing ropes with their neighbours. Manic called Coop to the side and together, they pitched a two man tent a little distance from the main camp, in order to look still part of the unit, but remain out of the chaos of the centre. A flatbed truck pulled up and deposited a number of crates in the camp, to which QuikFox called troops over to stock up on ammunition. Coop and Manic both managed a few more handfuls of rounds, before being turned away. More than enough for both men to fill their magazines, with some left over for spares, which were stored in their packs.

"Did you see that, Manic?"

"All the troops that wasted all that ammunition got resupplied with more ammunition than we got?" Manic thumbed a few more rounds into his magazine and checked his weapon over, before reconstructing it and sliding the magazine home.

"Not that - the truck. It dropped off the ammunition and left, but it's a very big truck for dropping off just a few dozen boxes of ammo."

"I don't follow."

"While everyone else was watching the crates and getting rounds, I was watching the truck. It stopped off again about a mile up the road. It wasn't dropping ammo this time."

"Should we go and check it out?" Coop shook his head at this, taking out his knife and making a few markings in the sand with the tip.

"We're here - unprotected on all sides. If we're marching towards the combat zone, chances are that we can expect an attack from the front, here." He drew an arrow towards the camp circle, "which makes me think that the truck did something that's not common knowledge - it's dropped about a mile almost perfectly behind the most prominent route of attack."

"So what do you think it is? A homing beacon? Recording equipment to identify deserters?"

"I really don't know. It's going to be a long night, though."

"2 hour stretches then. You sleep first." Coop bedded down and Manic sat on his pack, watching the horizon for signs of betrayal. The watches passed quickly and Coop found himself on his second watch of the night, the pre-dawn light just starting to peak over the horizon, meaning the worst of the night had passed. Coop yawned and froze, as he spotted something moving up on the camp. Squinting, he confirmed that he sighted a figure and he reached his boot forward, to nudge Manic in the side, who stirred.

"Don't give any sudden moves, but we've got company..." He considered the clock face for a second or two "Around nine O'Clock" Manic reached to his left and grabbed his sidearm, knowing it would be less of a movement than to grab an assault rifle at this stage.

As the figures approached, Coop noticed one key detail about the figures - they were all stickmen and armed with very little in the way of guns. One of them had come close and came to investigate the shadows where Coop was sitting. As it closed in, Coop raised his weapon pointing at the face of the ill-moving creature. "You didn't just see me, so turn around and walk away, mother fucker." He thumbed the safety off and waited for its next move.

The thing yelled and managed a step forward, before Coop threaded a three round burst through its abdomen. As more of the sticks made their way toward the main camp, both he and Manic opened fire, cutting down some of the advancing troops.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Went the barked order from QuikFox, who was striding through the camp in seconds, as other members of the group took up arms and starting firing indiscriminately at anything moving through the camp, perceived to be an enemy. Some of the recruits were caught in the guy ropes and were killed by the swift action of the sticks. Others were shot in the back by comrades, eager to get into the fight. All the while, Coop and Manic continued their controlled bursts, felling sticks as they advanced.

After a few minutes, the sticks fell back, with Coop and Manic both suddenly becoming aware of the Sergeant Major's incessant barking of ceasefire orders. As Coop turned around, he loosened the magazine and checked the number of bullets in there, before replacing it and regarding the officer.

[Coop]

"WHEN I SAY CEASE FIRE, YOU WILL CEASE FIRE! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, RECRUIT!" The Sergeant was incredibly red face and Coop did not flinch at the barracking from the officer.

"Suppressing fire, Sergeant. Situation neutralized." Coop stood there, holding his weapon, the barrel emitting a wisp of smoke, while Manic stared straight ahead, a calm expression not betraying emotional conflict below the surface.

QuikFox walked across the ground, regarding the corpse of the first stick as the casings of spent ammunition crunched underfoot. "You will learn that insubordination is not tolerated by me. Drop and give me twenty." Coop lowered his weapon and as he went to ground, he sighed.

"Don't like it, Mr. Cooper? Make it fifty then." Coop, took his punishment, his pursed lips barely containing the contempt that he felt for the officer as the press ups exploded out of his shoulders and triceps. When he started to slow, in the forties, QuikFox walked over to him and placed his boot on the young man's hand, transferring his weight to it. When Coop grunted in pain, the sergeant major allowed himself a smile. "One hundred, recruit. You will learn who is boss. That is me." He grinned malevolently as Coop continued the work with QuikFox standing on his hand. When he had finished, QuikFox looked at them both. "You're both a fucking disgrace. Get out of my sight." With that, he turned tail and marched back to the camp, leaving the two men to stow their gear.

"What an arsehole." Manic commented, rolling the tent into its wrapping.

"He's in command. We do what he says. Regardless, I'll take the punishment, for saving the lives of men that are being attacked." Coop shrugged as he shouldered his pack, securing it across his midriff.

* * *

As the troops breakfasted, they counted the losses. From the hundred and twenty men that had started out on the march, they had lost seventeen. While helping to move bodies, Coop and Manic had both stashed a few additional magazines from the dead recruit's reserves on their person. When the bodies were piled high, QuikFox had let off a White Phosphorus grenade amongst them and the bodies were committed to the memory of those that had known them.

"If they return, we'll be ready."

"Not if, Manic. When they return." A few moments later, Coop was proven right.

"Look over there! Something's gathering." A keen eyed recruit pointed towards the point where the first sticks had come from and sure enough, many more were gathering. Recruits started to ready weapons and they formed up in a rough semi-circle.

"Spread out - don't stay too close to one another, in case they have explosives, or flame weapons!" Coop ordered, in the absence of anything from the others gathered.

The sticks began to march slowly towards the gathered recruits, eventually breaking into a full run at them. "Don't shoot yet - let them close in, so you save your ammunition. If you need, use your knives." Dropping himself to one knee, to improve the balance, Coop leveled his rifle and waited. As the heads of the enemy started peeking over the hill, he took aim and waited just a fraction longer, before letting out a few bursts, ripping some of them to shreds. He glanced around in the silence, his own gun smoking and nothing else happening.

"Any time you like, boys." Suddenly, the air was awash with hot lead and the first few ranks were cut down. Manic moved himself closer to Coop, still taking down the advancing figures.

"Don't like to worry you, Coop, but it looks like we've been stitched up." Manic indicated over his right shoulder and Coop turned to look, seeing a distant figure pulling some sort of tarpaulin off a palette. Returning to the here and now, Coop dispatched another few sticks, before turning and running towards the man in the distance.

"Coop, stop! There's no way you can deal with him - we'll all die, unless we save every bullet possible." Manic shot another stick with his sidearm and looked at his comrade, as the rage welled up inside him. The man mounted a motorbike and, revving the engine sped off in the direction of the training facilities.

"I'll see you again, QuikFox. Some day, I'll be a superior of yours and then I'll pay you back with interest." Suddenly, Coop turned back and the carnage continued, bullets ripping sticks from the ground and leaving colourful patterns across the floor.

The combat lasted most of the day and the losses were horrific on both sides. By the end of the fighting, most of the ammunition had been spent and only eleven recruits were left alive. Coop and Manic had taken control of the situation, leading to an improbable victory against massive odds. They gave orders solemnly to strip all dead recruits of their ammunition. As the sun set over the portal, the remaining men were very weary, having now moved their former comrades bodies into a neat pile. Coop called in the massacre, requesting that the bodies be given a burial, or at least a humane send off. He set the phone device down with the corpses, to act as a tracking beacon, should one be required and then he turned to address the men.

"We all fought valiantly today. Bravery has been proven and your survival means that these courageous fellows of ours did not die in vain. Now there are two clear options to you all. Should you wish, we may continue through this land, seeking to purge it. Otherwise, you may leave and head back to lands more suited to you, away from this endless conflict. I will not harbour any ill will towards you, should you wish to go home. I would wish you all the best, but also that you are wary on your travels." He walked off to the side, where Manic fell in with him

"I'm with you, friend." Coop smiled at Manic, as he sidled up to him

"Good man - I knew you would." Two other men made their way over and the others decided to end their associations and were bid farewell. One wounded man wanted to continue, but his leg was too badly battered to continue. As one, they headed home, away from the conflict.

"Where to then, Coop? You seem to know what you're doing." A young German man, by the name of Klassikal asked of the man that would be leader.

"The Police Headquarters. If they won't come to us, we shall come to them. That will get us into the realm of the portal." Satisfied with the answer, the four men walked off towards the setting sun, putting some distance between themselves and the massacre site, before making camp.

[TheLavaMuffin]

Nice story coop! I think it is both entertaining and satisfying. Thanks for the wonderful submission.

[Scarface]

A beautiful story, reminds me of the days when the DD was running rampant. Those were dark times, dark times indeed. I fought countless battles, but in the end, I owe all of my thank you to the Admins. They saved us all.