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The Discord Disaster

by M48 Patton

Chapter 7: The Reason

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The Reason

Chapter 7:

“It's odd though, that the other one showed up when he did.”

“About as odd as the original attack.”

“General, that was different.”

“How so?”

“Before, it was just random, this seemed. . . planned.”

Four Days After the Attack:

“So, how many spirits are left?” Granger asked, his head throbbing. Discord, or rather Admiral Bogart in his current state, merely shrugged. “I really don't know. So many of us have been killed or simply disappeared over the years that I believe there can't be more than a few dozen.”

The pair sat in the VIP bunker that Granger had first met Discord a day earlier. Granger had a rather large lump on his head from a supposed injury he had received from the tunnel collapse. In reality, Discord had hit him with an oversized hammer as part of the ruse. The two Marines who had been with Granger were peacefully unconscious on the two beds with their own assortment of injuries that Discord had inflicted on them. None of the the injuries were permanent and the Marines hadn't felt an ounce of pain, but Granger was still uncomfortable with the idea of roughing up his men for the sake of secrecy.

“You still know any of them?” Granger asked. The fact that he was talking to a being thousands of years old and powerful enough to challenge the world was disconcerting and he wasn't sure what to talk about, but he figured that the more information he got out of Bogart, no matter how little, it would be useful.

Bogart nodded. “A few, yes. However, after what I did, I would expect that they're plotting to kill me.”

“Heh, I don't blame them. I still want to kill you.” Granger said.

Bogart grunted. “It's not because of the cities. The majority of them couldn't care less about what happens to humanity. No, it's because I hunted them down.”

“What?” Granger asked. “You mean you were killing them?”

“No, nothing like that. It was that I needed their power. You see, I was trying to build up my own power in order to combat Sombra, spearhead the assault myself. It was never my intention to commit the crimes I did against you, but then-” Bogart paused.

“The crack appeared.” Granger finished.

Bogart nodded. “I took a page out of Tirek's book and managed to master the art of draining the other spirits. I was quite powerful before the attack, so powerful that I couldn't handle it, so I had Machina build me machines to store that power. Even then, I knew that when Sombra nearly broke the barrier, I was no match for him and his army. Perhaps in a one on one fight, I could win, but his army would have been the deciding factor in that battle. So, I made the decision to unleash all of the power I had stored up upon the world. The day known as 'The Discord Disaster'.”

Granger slumped down in his chair, he was still processing the information handed to him earlier. Ancient spirits, unstoppable armies, madmen with impossible power, Granger was a bit overwhelmed by it all.

“So, what'd you with the spirits that you drained?” He asked. “You got them locked up in a prison somewhere in the Void?”

Bogart chuckled. “I'm not a sadist, Colonel. I took care of them. Take Celestia, the Spirit of Day, for instance, as much as we hate each other, I didn't enact some cruel punishment on her, I merely gave her a human life.”

Granger waited for an explanation, but when Bogart didn't immediately speak, Granger asked. Bogart rolled his eyes. “Well if you must know, I found her and her sister, Luna the Spirit of Night, holed up with Cadence, the Spirit of Love, in an underground hot spring in Mount Saint Helens.”

“I'm guessing that the eruption wasn't a natural occurrence?” Granger hazarded a guess.

Bogart smiled. “Correct, it was quite a fight, and I was able to use the volcano to my advantage. As you can see, I won.”

“Obviously.”

“After draining the three of them of their power, I erased their memories and placed them in a small town with some fake back stories. The last I checked, Celestia and Luna had become teachers at some school and were moving up rather quickly.”

As Bogart finished, the room rumbled slightly. Granger looked at the sealed door, behind it sat a few tons of rubble and dirt. “Sounds like my boys are getting close.”

Bogart looked at him with a mixed expression, Granger thought he saw a hint of jealously, but Bogart quickly hid his feelings. “Your men seem as though they would follow you into hell.”

Granger nodded. “Maybe. If it came down to it, I'd lead the charge but I wouldn't make them come.”

Bogart chuckled. “That's probably the reason they would follow you.”

Granger studied his boots. “No, the truth is I'm too much of a coward to order my men to certain doom. I don't mind dying, but I don't think I could live with myself if I was responsible for the deaths of those under me. Why do you think I'm here, in a secret base where nothing happens. Well, nothing is supposed to happen.”

There was a bit a silence between the two men before Granger spoke up again. “So, apart from Machina, any other spirits coming to help?”

Bogart shook his head. “No, they either do not realize the danger or they simply don't care. There was one, but he died.”

“What happened?”

Bogart was quiet, and Granger thought he may have pushed to far, but then Bogart told him. “Sombra happened, and he got desperate. Macab, the Spirit of War. He. . . He wasn't what you think. He was powerful, but yet, he was always eager to help. Seeing as he was the Spirit of War, humanity gave him plenty to feed off of, but he never tried to start conflicts.”

Granger shrugged. “He probably figured that humanity did that well enough for him.”

“No!” Bogart said angrily, causing Granger to flinch. “He didn't like war, yes it made him feel strong, but. . . he was always trying to find a way to end the war as quickly as possible. When he spoke of war, he would never describe the power that he felt or the brutality of battle, but instead he told me of a hero that distinguished himself, or the final calm that reigned over land when the war was over.”

“So, why did he die? What changed?” Granger asked.

Bogart sighed heavily, his eyes sad. “He. . . heheh.” Suddenly, a bit of Discord leaked through and Bogart began to chuckle. “He, he was trying to, haha, use his face, hahaha, as a bomb tester! AHAHA!”

Bogart's voice was now Discord's and he was laughing uncontrollably. Granger was surprised and somewhat taken aback. “What?” He asked incredulously.

Bogart stopped laughing and wiped a tear from his eye. “I apologize, it's just that brings up some interesting memories.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Well, yes, anyways, you see while I was in Europe studying the art of armored warfare under General Patton, Macab was Japan testing the capabilities of the new super battleships' main guns. When he found out that the Americans were testing a new type of bomb and were going to drop it on Hiroshima, he decided to be there to test the effects of the blast.”

“Oh.” That was all Granger could say.

Bogart slumped a bit. “He was really the only friend I had, and I. . . well, at least we know that the bomb works.”

Granger stood and checked on the two unconscious Marines before sitting back down, and this time he stayed silent. After another hour, the drill stopped and the door opened.

Clifton had said good bye to Granger and Discord and gotten in his car, which he drove off a cliff in the Void as Discord instructed. He was still falling after an hour. Others in his position might have panicked or thrown up from the sheer length of time that he had been experiencing zero gravity, but a lifetime as a Navy pilot had given Clifton a stronger fortitude than most.

Deciding not to let one of Discord's pranks get to him, Clifton began to look over the various forms and papers he had in his briefcase. It was a unique experience having to sort papers that simply floated there.

Rather abruptly, there was a bright flash and then car slammed down onto hard asphalt. Clifton was sure that Discord had cushioned the fall somehow, but he wasn't sure how much more abuse the old Crown Vic could take. After a brief inspection of the car, he got back in and turned on the GPS. He was right back where Discord had picked him up.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, seeing about twenty missed calls, most of which were from the base, but one was from his neighbor. Thinking that something might have happened to Chrys, he called her up first. The phone rang a few times, then she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey Goggles, it's me, Bob.” Clifton's pet name for her was Goggles because she wore glasses.

“Hey, Mr. Clifton, hi! Um, sorry I called you so early, but um, something weird happened at your house.”

Clifton closed his eyes, wanting to scream, but his voice remained cheerful on the phone. “Did Sean make a bomb again?”

“No, no, it's um, Chrys's garden, I woke up this morning and looked out my window, and I saw that the whole garden was dead. Like, all the roses were all wilted and everything.”

Clifton set his jaw for a moment before speaking again. “Yeah, Chrys decided she wanted to redo the whole garden, so she let the plants die to make it easier to pull up.”

“Oh, okay, um, well that's it really.”

“Thanks for calling, I appreciate you looking out for us. I'll talk to you later, oh and if you finish any more animations, send them to me, their a big hit with the crew.”

“Will do Mr. C, buh bye!”

“Bye.”

Clifton ended the call and sat there, unmoving. Finally, he let out a scream that slowly petered out into heartbroken sobbing. His forehead met the steering wheel and tears fell from his face.

The sound of tires screeching and a car honking startled him. He looked back and saw that there was a car behind him, the driver angrily honking. Clifton realized that the car had been dropped off in the middle of the road, and slowly he turned the car on and began to drive, the other car having passed him as the Crown Vic struggled to start.

Reaching the base, he was admitted and drove to administration. He parked the car, grabbed his briefcase, and went inside.

One Week After the Attack:

Granger awkwardly fingered the single star on his collar as he waited to meet with his superior. It had only been three days since he and Bogart had been had been dug out of the bunker, but in that time Bogart had worked a miracle and gotten Granger not only promoted, but put in charge of several battalions with the specific purpose of preventing further attacks on American soil. The battalions were outfitted with the latest equipment and Granger could have them deployed anywhere in the United States almost instantaneously.

Today, he was going to have to convince General Hamilton to let him deploy most of his forces to the coast of Oregon.

“The general will see you now.” Hamilton's secretary said. Granger stood and walked into the spacious office.

“General Granger, congratulations on the promotion.” General Hamilton walked from behind his desk and both me shook hands.

“Thank you General, it's good to meet you in person.” Granger smiled.

“Likewise. Now, what this I hear about condensing Second and Fifth Battalions?” Hamilton moved back behind his desk and sat down while Granger took a seat across from him.

“Not just Second and Fifth, I want the First as well.”

Hamilton started. “That's half your forces Granger, where are you putting all of them?”

Granger pulled out a USB drive and handed it to Hamilton. “Oregon, specifically near Seattle, although they'll be spread out on the coast a bit.”

Hamilton's laptop whirred to life and he put the drive into the slot. “You better have a good reason for this, otherwise the Pentagon will eat you for breakfast and—what am I looking at?”

Hamilton's laptop screen showed a picture of Seattle during the attack with an overlay various lines of different colors spreading out from the dome.

“The Navy took this during the Discord Disaster, those are various readings from radar off the different ships” Granger explained. “Go ahead and move it to the next slide.”

The next picture was of open ocean, but the same lines spread out from a point in the sky. “That was taken yesterday about two hundred miles off the coast. It's the same as the attack on Seattle.”

Hamilton studied pictures, switching back and forth between the two and rubbing what little hair he had left.

“Well,” he finally said, “it's enough to warrant setting up three battalions up on the coast, but maybe-”

“Hamilton!” Granger protested. “It's the only thing we've got right now! As far as we know, this could be the next attack! That's only two hundred miles from Seattle, right now the only thing guarding that city is a battalion of National Guard, and no disrespect to them but if another attack comes, the weekend warriors are going to get slaughtered!”

Hamilton looked at the two images some more, then back to Granger. “Alright, you get the battalions, if nothing else, it's something we can feed to the politicians to keep them off our backs for now.”

Granger breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Granger,” Hamilton stared at him with a cold glare. “If the attack hits somewhere else and we needed those battalions, you're history.”

Next Chapter: The Farewell Estimated time remaining: 7 Minutes
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