Alvin Chronicles 9: Who Said Puppets Were Cute?

Captured civilians were lined up against the side of an old brick building with hands behind their heads. Each civilian looked terrified, and were all visibly shaken. About a dozen Soviet shock troopers patrolled the town square, their faces masked in black cloth tied around them ninja style. One Soviet trooper was walking back in forth along the row of civilians, yelling out orders in Russian. The trooper supported an RPD light machine gun on his right shoulder, and held a pistol in his left hand. It was clear that this was the squad’s leader, and it was also clear that the civilians were not in an ideal situation.

 

Alvin peered out from behind a couple of crates and scanned the town square. He noticed that out of the twelve Soviet soldiers, only one was positioned on a roof. The soldier held a sniper rifle (Dragunov SVD) and was pacing back and forth along the roof of the building opposite the captured civilians.

 

Alvin turned to Victoria, who was behind him, and whispered, “Soviets.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?” returned Victoria. “The last time I checked, Soviets were Russians.”

 

“Yeah, but the last time you checked, they weren’t hostile.” Alvin said.

 

“Now they’re hostile?” asked Victoria incredulously.

 

“Isn’t it obvious to you? They nearly my whole universe!” Alvin yelled, a bit loud.

 

A few of the Soviet troopers turned to face his direction. They chatted with each other before turning to face the leader. One of the soldiers confronted the leader and they stood there for a while, conversing. Then, the leader issued new orders, pointing at where Alvin and Victoria hid behind the crates.

 

“Oh noodles,” Alvin gritted his teeth. “They’ve discovered us.”

 

Alvin and Victoria watched as three of the Soviet soldiers strode towards them with AK-47s raised.

 

“Not good,” said Alvin. He pulled out his M9 handgun.

 

“What do I use?” Victoria asked.

 

“Here, use this,” Alvin tossed another handgun to Victoria. Victoria caught it, surprised.

 

“How am I supposed to use this?” Victoria quietly fumed.

 

“Just aim and shoot,” Alvin said. “Now, if I can formulate a strategy-“

 

A gunshot ripped through the crates, and everybody in the town square ducked in surprise.

 

“Oops!” Victoria said.

 

“Oh no!” Alvin yelled. “Victoria! Why did you-“

 

“The three Soviet soldiers got up and unleashed a barrage of bullets at Alvin and Victoria’s general direction.

 

“AAAH!” yelled Victoria.

 

“Quick! Move!” Alvin yelled back. He pushed Victoria into a nearby door and fired a couple of shots at the three enemies.

 

The Soviet squad leader, with a flurry of hand signals, ordered three more of his troopers to cut around the house. Then, with a series of Russian curse words he commanded the last four of his men to herd the civilian captives into a nearby restaurant.

 

Victoria ran through a maze of rooms and heard heavy footsteps in front of her accompanied by Russian shouting. She quickly glanced to her left and located a stairwell a room away. Without hesitation she sprinted for the stairwell.

 

She got about halfway there before tripping over a rug.

 

“No big deal,” Victoria murmured to herself. “This happens to me all the time.”

 

She got up, brushed dust off her knees, and started to run towards the stairwell again.

 

On this second attempt, she hit an invisible wall.

 

“Ow!” came her shocked reply, and Victoria fell backwards, knocking Alvin, who had just arrived, over.

 

A Soviet soldier rounded a corner and started firing blindly at Victoria and Alvin.

 

“Go!” Alvin yelled, and they both ran up the stairs. The six Soviet soldiers quickly regrouped at the base of the stairwell. One soldier noticed another stairwell across the room, and the soldiers decided to attempt a flanking maneuver.

 

Meanwhile, on the second floor of the building, Alvin and Victoria looked left and right, wondering where they should go.

 

“Which way should we go?!” panicked Alvin.

 

“I think we should go that way,” Victoria pointed to her right.

 

“Why?” asked Alvin.

 

“Well, I figure that the probability of them going right is smaller than them going left.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

“It’s simple psychology!” Victoria explained. “Seventy five percent of women turn left once they enter a department store!”

 

“:O,” Alvin regained his wits. “Victoria, this is NOT a department store, and those aren’t lady shoppers chasing us with machine guns!”

 

“Lady what? What did you call them?”

 

Suddenly, a Soviet soldier appeared at the bottom of the stairwell and fired a burst of automatic gunfire. Victoria screamed, and Alvin quickly fired his pistol twice. The Soviet soldier crumpled and hit the wall behind him. An AK-47 appeared off the edge of the stairwell and fired at Alvin.

 

“Fine! Let’s just go right!” Alvin yelled, and turned to face Victoria, only to come face to face with two Soviet soldiers behind him coming up another set of stairs.

 

“HALT!” One of them yelled, but Alvin had no intentions of complying. He barrel-rolled towards his right just as the Soviets opened fire. Bullets ripped wallpaper to shred, but Alvin did not stop. He continued to execute barrel-roll after barrel-roll around the various rooms. The five remaining Soviet soldiers fanned out throughout the second floor, intent on claiming their prize.

 

Two of the soldiers rounded a corner, and were suddenly met with swift kicks. Both of them stumbled backwards, firing in confusion. A third soldier raised his weapon and aimed at the now escaping figure of Victoria, but Alvin barrel-rolled right into him. The soldier’s legs were swept into the air, and he landed on top of an office table.

 

Another soldier appeared at a doorway and fired off a couple of shots at Alvin. However, this soldier’s weapon jammed. The surprised soldier tried to force the jammed bullet out of his weapon, but was slapped in the back of the head by Victoria. The soldier recoiled at the force of the slap and spiraled to the ground.

 

Alvin stood up and started to reload his handgun. However, behind him, the two soldiers who were kicked earlier slowly got to their feet.

 

“Alvin!” Victoria yelled.

 

Alvin quickly looked behind him, but it was too late. One of the soldiers slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of Alvin’s head. Alvin fell down, dazed.

 

“No!” Victoria yelled. She picked up the jammed AK-47 in front of her and threw it at the two Soviet soldiers. Physics did its thing, and the AK-47 hit both of the soldiers in their heads. The two soldiers careened backwards into another room.

 

Alvin, still lying on the ground, glanced at Victoria. He saw another Soviet soldier approaching her from behind.

 

“Victoria!” Alvin yelled. “Behind you!”

 

Victoria quickly turned around and stuffed a homemade stink bomb into the soldier’s mask. The soldier stood there for a second, stunned. Then, grey gas puffed out of his mask, and the soldier inhaled the dangerous combination of spoiled milk and bleu cheese. The unlucky soldier let out a muffled whimper, and he crumpled to the ground.

 

The soldier who Alvin had sent onto the office table got up, and Alvin swiveled around to fight him.

 

“Oh, steak,” said Alvin. The soldier lunged at him with a combat knife. Without thinking, Alvin grabbed the sharp end of the knife and twisted it. The soldier holding the knife flipped to the ground.

 

“Ow!” Alvin seethed as he felt pain in his hand.

 

The downed soldier struggled to get up and reengage in the fight. Alvin looked up and noticed a sizable window behind the soldier.

 

“Hmm…” said Alvin.

 

“YAR!” yelled the soldier, and he lunged forward with the knife.

 

Alvin raised an eyebrow. Finally, he barked out those immortal words.

 

“THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAAAAA!”

 

Alvin raised up his right leg. With all his strength, and with the help of his micro, Alvin unleashed a savage kick. His foot connected with the soldier’s helmet, and the soldier was launched backwards. The screaming soldier crashed through the window and fell two stories to his unconsciousness.

 

Victoria ran up to Alvin.

 

“Wow! Nice kick!” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“Yeah,” Alvin panted, “I practiced it 10,000 times.”

 

He looked down at his hand and realized it was bleeding.

 

“Sigh,” sighed Alvin, “The last time I cut my hand, it went numb for four straight hours.”

 

“What happened?” asked Victoria.

 

“I played too much Starcraft,” replied Alvin.

 

“Oh,” said Victoria. “The last time I cut my hand, I was spinning two cleavers on my fingers and trying to stand on my head while singing ‘Jingle Bells’.”

 

“Why did you do that?” asked Alvin in disbelief.

 

“I don’t know,” Victoria shrugged. “It sounded like fun.”

 

Alvin looked out the broken window and frowned.

 

“We still have to get past the rest of these guys,” he said. “And get to the Glensoft skyscraper. I have to figure out what’s going on here.”

 

“How are we going to do that?” asked Victoria.

 

Alvin picked up an AK-47 and turned to look at Victoria with a serious face.

 

“I’m gonna go Rambo,” said Alvin.

---

 

Meanwhile, in Silicon Valley…

 

A silver futuristic Audi cruised on a freeway that just happened to not be in rush hour mode. Future Lawrence drove, while Lawrence looked around, oblivious.

 

“Hey…Lawrence…” Lawrence bumbled.

 

“Yeah?” asked Future Lawrence.

 

“Um,” Lawrence struggled to find the right words. “Where are we going?”

 

Future Lawrence sighed. “I told you five minutes ago, Lawrence; we are going to see an old friend of mine.”

 

“Huh?” asked Lawrence.

 

“His name is Dr. Stanislav Colon. He’s a professor who teaches quantum physics and music, among other things. He was my physics professor in university.”

 

“Oh really?” asked Lawrence. “What university did you go to?”

 

“Debney Correctional College,” replied Future Lawrence.

 

Lawrence stifled a whimper.

 

“What?” Future Lawrence asked.

 

“Nothing,” replied Lawrence meekly.

 

The next three minutes of the drive went by in awkward silence. Finally, Lawrence spoke up again.

 

“Why are we going to see Dr. Stanislaw Whatever?” asked Lawrence.

 

“To determine if you really are from the past,” Future Lawrence replied, “And to see if we can get you back to where you came from.”

 

“You mean ‘you’, only from a different perspective,” corrected Lawrence.

 

“Stop friggin’ correcting me, all right?” Future Lawrence said.

 

“Okay,” said Lawrence.

 

A few more awkward minutes passed.

 

“So, uh, how did you get this principal job anyway?” Lawrence asked.

 

“I have no clue,” said Future Lawrence. “All I remember is that a few months ago I was a janitor and then poof, one thing led to another and now I’m principal of Lynbrook High School.”

 

“Huh? That doesn’t make sense,” said Lawrence.

 

“Yeah, I know,” said Future Lawrence, “the entire process was pretty bizarre, really.”

 

“No, I meant the janitor thing,” said Lawrence.

 

Future Lawrence stared at Lawrence.

 

“Lawrence?”

 

“Yeah?” Lawrence responded.

 

Future Lawrence said slowly, “You know there’s this thing between your left ear and your right ear, right? It’s called a braaaiin. Say it with me. Braiiin.”

 

“And you do know that you’re insulting your past self, right?” Lawrence quipped.

 

Future Lawrence fell back into a silent stare, and returned to driving.

 

“I can tell we’re going to have a beautiful friendship together,” said Future Lawrence half sardonically.

---

 

In Glensoft Skyscraper…

 

Lieutenant Petrenko’s voice wafted over Patrick’s laptop speakers, and the former computer programmer listened intently as the field commander relayed her report to Peter.

 

“Komrad Peterov,” Petrenko said, “Phase Two is in cool down. We have secured the object of interest, over.”

 

“Very good,” came Peter’s voice over the speakers, accompanied by a meow. “Get transportation ready.”

 

“Transportation to Moscow all ready, sir,” said Petrenko.

 

“Good,” said Peter. “Begin Phase Three.”

 

“Phase Three has begun, sir,” said Petrenko.

 

“On top of things, eh?” chuckled Peter. “Well, yeah, just keep doing Phase Three.”

 

“Petrenko out.” The field commander signed off. Peter turned his attention to Patrick.

 

“Patrick,” said Peter.

 

“Yeah?” grunted Patrick.

 

“Pack up your gear. The Long Cat Crystal is being transported back to Russia, and I am worried about Agents and Resistance fighters impeding our progress, which is why I’m reassigning you and your squad back to Moscow.”

 

“Explanation?” asked Patrick.

 

“Yeah, well, it looks like Resistance fighters are closing in on the Glensoft skyscraper, intent on driving us out of this area. I can’t afford to be held up any longer. We’re going to have speed things up.”

 

“Sure thing,” said Patrick. “Captain Gunov and I will be speeding towards Moscow ASAP.”

 

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Peter. “Have you heard from Dementov? I’ve been trying to contact him for the past half hour.”

 

“Nope,” said Patrick, “The last I heard of him he was on his way to interrogate some Agency prisoner.”

 

“Darn!” grimaced Peter. “That fool knows better than to interrogate an Agency prisoner by himself! Anyway, before you leave, try to find Dementov.”

 

“Sure thing,” said Patrick. “I’m bored of sitting around in this skyscraper anyway.”

 

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Peter. “You know Jenny?”

 

“The bounty hunter you sent after the Agency operations in New York City?” asked Patrick. “Yeah.”

 

“If she manages to come back from that wild goose chase, I want you to get rid of her, you understand? I can’t allow a random variable slow down my plans for world domination!” yelled Peter evilly.

 

“Consider it done,” Patrick said.

---

 

In an alley in New York…

 

Jason and Howard gasped for air. After a myriad of evasive maneuvers, they had finally lost their Russian pursuers.

 

“Damn that Daniel!” Jason rasped. “I should have known better than to trust him and his Tylenol influenced attitude!”

 

“My arm still hurts!” Howard blurted out.

 

“Where is that damn ‘Agent’ anyway?” wondered Jason. "I hope karma gets him back for this."

---

 

In a secret underground Agency base…

 

“Where is everybody?” asked Uberdaniel. He kept his Berettas raised, just in case.

 

“I don’t know,” said Ubermatthew slowly. “Maybe they’re on field missions?”

 

“All of them?” inquired Uberdaniel. “I doubt it.”

 

Ubermatthew cautiously rounded a corner, P90 submachine gun raised. The sniper sniffed the air, and looked back at Uberdaniel.

 

“I smell propane,” Ubermatthew said.

 

“Oh, crap!” Uberdaniel yelled.

 

He ran forward and quickly knocked down the door leading into main Agency headquarters. The large room was set ablaze, and there were bodies of Agents strewn around the place. Uberdaniel quickly covered his face with a gas mask and crept forward, surveying the flames.

 

“Oh, man! Who did this?” asked Uberdaniel.

 

Ubermatthew covered his own face with a gas mask. “Looks like some sort of heavy explosive. Class ten.”

 

“Maybe it’s the Soviet army! Maybe Stalin himself has risen out of the grave! OH CRAP WE’RE GOING TO GET OWNED!”

 

“Stop being so paranoid, Uberdaniel,” said Ubermatthew, “We got to use our minds. Think-“

 

Suddenly, a dead Agent fell out of the roof and lay suspended in midair, supported by four ropes that held his arms and legs.

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” screamed Ubermatthew and Uberdaniel. The latter Agent fired a clip of Beretta ammunition into the suspended corpse. Bullets hit the corpse’s burnt flesh, but failed to do anything else.

 

“It’s…it’s just a dead dude,” Ubermatthew said, attempting to recompose himself.

 

The dead body’s mouth moved, and a cold sinister voice was heard.

 

“Greetings, fellow Agents,” the corpse said sarcastically.

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” screamed Ubermatthew and Uberdaniel. The former Agent unleashed a burst of P90 fire into the corpse.

 

“Ha ha ha....that’s not going to do anything but dishonor one of your own,” the corpse said, turning its bloodied head left and right.

 

“Wh-what the hell are you?!” cried Uberdaniel.

 

“I am you worst nightmare…MWUHAHAHA!” laughed the corpse. A rope tightened, and the corpse’s right arm limply rose and pointed at the two Agents.

 

“And you two,” said the corpse menacingly, “Are about to be my…instruments…heheheh…”

 

“I told you, Ubermatthew!” Uberdaniel whimpered in terror. “It’s Stalin come out of the grave! And you thought I was paranoid!”

 

“That’s not Stalin,” replied Ubermatthew, terrified as well, “That’s the body of Agent Uberjones!”

 

“SILENCE!” snarled the corpse. “I KILL YOU!”

 

“AAAAAAH!” screamed Ubermatthew and Uberdaniel.

 

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