He slowly rose from the ground, these eyes full of tenacity, a fire burning within, a rage unlike anything he'd ever, his body shaking as he pulled himself forwards despite the odds, for as he faced those hammers in hand, cannons all a glow, he grinned a wicked grin, for he knew he was already dead...
*In The Skies Over Appalachia*
As the three factions made the trek towards the westward, the Ghost looked at the photograph tucked inside his helmet. It was like looking at an alternate version of his life. It was him, rather someone like him smiling in what looked like an old pickup truck. The boy sitting next to him was smiling as well, but the Ghost couldn't recall the last time he'd seen him.
"That was when my smile.... died wasn't...."
"You say something?" President Keith asked. His "Iron Cowboy" look of the Lone Star armor was in the Ghost's direct line of sight.
"No Keith. I didn't say a word." The Ghost darked the inside of his helmet. As they flew, Greater Ottawan Hueys arrived to outfit the A.T.D troops with the old OI-PCS-IV armor frames.
"Child, are you sure you don't want us to come?" Barbara looks to the Ghost hoping he'd agree to having additional backup.
"I need you all to stay put. We'll be bringing back good news. Keep my Grandpa safe."
The Ghost walked back across the Enola Gay as the Hueys returned to Ottawa. "Onwards! TO VICTORY!" he yelled as the three-fourths of the remnant United States pushed towards the West Coast.
Meanwhile, the Californian's coastline had become a desolate grave for both sides. Bullets and bodies hit the dirt. For twelve miles off the coast, the largest fleet of naval vessels ever assembled bombarded everything they saw. The howl of jet engines dominated the skies and the clanking of metal tank treads filled the cities. Rockefeller and Clinton's forces were ravaging those brave enough to fight back. As the dawn brought sunlight, it not only brought the sun up, it too brought hope.
Leading the resistance with California was a thirty-four-year-old, Washington State woman. Although she was short in stature, the passion of her heart was far greater than her size.
"Morgan! We need to move! Got word they're gearing up the bombardment of a lifetime! We gotta go!"
"Alright! Start pulling people back to the civ-line. If they push us any further back...." Morgan's neck nearly broke trying to see where a new source of noise was coming from. A lone NW-ZERO was diving on their position. It opened fires, bullets strafing the ground. The air went hot for just a moment... The bullets heading for Morgan hit something metallic.
"Pardon us little lady, but you wouldn't happen to know where the Western Commune of States is, would ya?" A thick, southern accent said just above her.
"G of O, time to get to work. I barely got to her in time."
"I-I am sorry, but who are you?"
"Oh, I'm Keith, and I apologize for my odd position here." Keith smiled as he stood up. As he did, Morgan caught the full view of the skies of California, covered in angry fighter, warbirds, bombers and helicopters.
"Who are they?"
"Just a few friends of mine. Now come on little lady, it's about to get very violent out here."
"What about my people?"
"Look", started Keith, "I've got the best chance of saving them, but I have no idea where they are. Take me to 'em."
"Right..." Morgan stood up and led Keith to their basecamp. There were more civilians than able fighters amongst them.
"How many fighters do you have?"
"Those of us with guns are all that are left." Morgan and the others looked away from Keith. Keith nodded and made a call over the radio then returned to them.
"You have no reason to be ashamed. Like I explained to Miss Morgan here, I'm Keith, President of the Confederation of the Texan Republic. Those folks you saw, Morgan, they're not all from my little faction. There's another woman up there, name's Paige, and she's leading her recently united people to battle alongside one of the toughest fighters I know. He's got the best shot at restoring our nation, not like it was, but far better for people like you and I.
"Who is he?"
"You'll meet him soon enough. For now, let's get your civilians loaded into trucks. If things go south, they need to get out of this area."
High above the basecamp, the United Coalition had engaged the Order. The tide was shifting rapidly in favor of the Americans.
"Texan Navy, where are you?"
"We're in position and awaiting further instruction sir."
"This the Ghost of Ottawa, open fire. Bring this blockade down. Radio me if you need assistance."
The 16-inch guns of the USS New Jersey, USS Missouri, and USS Texas were the signal for the naval forces to kick off their attacks. The Texan Navy ripped into the fabric of each New World Order ship.
"My lord, we have come under fire. We require you... delicate touch."
"I am enroute. Tell Clinton to begin releasing the hounds. Wipe them out... All of them."
As the transmission ended, legions of super soldiers marched onto the once beautiful beaches of California. They rip apart anyone left on the beaches.
"Paige, this is the G of O, take your chopper pilots and assist in the evacuation efforts."
"Are you sure?"
"I can handle things from here. They need you."
As the Apache helicopters left the air battle, the Ghost and Enola circled the battlefield. Down below, the Appalachian and Greater Ottawan armies unleash hell upon the incoming legion of super soldiers.
"General Daniel, this is a turkey shoot!"
"Private, stay focused.
"Yes, a little private.... Should stay focused."
Daniel turned to find the private having his spinal cord crushed. Before he could get a shot off, Daniel was sent flying through the wall of the basecamp, the private's body split in half and caking the ground.
"Daniel, you good?"
"LOOK OUT KEITH!" Roger tackles Keith out of the way. As they both look back, the was a living nightmare standing where the wall had once been.
"Lucky me..." The thing emerged from the shadows. It looked like a very deformed version of Rothschild. He licked his lips. His body was not even human anymore, all the injections had made him a monster of eugenics gone too far. He let out a blood curdling, tri-toned, cryptid-demon like screech. "FRESH MEAT!" as he lunged at the mixed group of soldiers, jaws wide open, eager to eat his fill.