Head Banging 101

Warning: LANGUAGE!

Chapter One

The Meaning of Droning

"Who the fuck's that?" Salem growled pushing up from the couch, awakened by the jangling of their telephone. "It's two god damned in the fucking morning; fuck me twice Tyse."

Rios put his hand over the mouth piece of their apartment's land line, shushed Elliot with a glare then returned to the conversation. Elliot stood, stretched and ambled toward the bathroom. He'd just fallen asleep and he'd probably now be up for the duration of the night. At the door he paused and looked back at the bigger man.

"Let me just say this you big fuck;" He began, sternly wagging his right index finger in Rios' direction, "if that's your god damned wife I'm gonna kill both of you slowly. Fuck."

Rios flinched a bit when the door slammed closed knowing that some neighbor or another would once again fill his ears with complaints about the noise, mostly door slamming noise, that seemingly always emanated from their little apartment.

Moments later Salem, dressed only in dark gray, knit boxers, reappeared and yanked open the refrigerator hard enough that the six assorted liquor bottles stowed on top of it shook. Rios looked up at him briefly from the kitchen island where he'd settled, phone still in hand, to take notes. The younger man dragged an empty cardboard Budweiser box out and looked inside of it longingly as though staring would make a beer appear. Then he tossed it onto the overfull garbage can and leaning down scoped out the rest of the near empty refrigerator. Finally he dragged open the vegetable drawer with another loud bang and grabbed a Heineken.

"Perfect and a god damned good thing you little bastards are tucked away in there."

Beer in hand he stood in front of Rios and while scratching and adjusting his balls watched him talk on the phone. Rios gave him a 'do you really need to be so forward about that shit?' look and Salem, after grabbing heartily at his stuff, flicked him his right middle finger.

"Fuck you asshole, eat me." He snapped off before finally retreating back to the blanket draped sofa.

Once he finished the call Tyson went into the living room. Elliot now sat slumped and wrapped in his tattered old blanket, with his bare feet and the coffee table, beer perched on his lap and a video game controller in his hands.

"You know if you just laid back down you might actually be able to fall back asleep."

"What'd the bitch want? Stay down you sorry, little Chinese fucker!"

"It was Cha Min Soo."

"You know Tyse that'd be just god damned peachy if it wasn't for the fact that he called on my house phone. How in the holey fuck did one of the most prolific arms dealers on the fucking planet happen to get my home phone number? Better yet why is he calling us in the middle of the night and not SSC and Alice come morning? We do have a contract writer, Rios. Murray. God save us all because she lets us know on a far too regular basis that she is in fact just that and not a simple secretary. My fucking puckered ass hole she's not a secretary! If she's not a secretary then I'm not a god damned miserably cursed mercenary. Fucking, fuck me twice! I was talking and that sorry little sniping son of a pig's whore's mother shot me. Fuck."

Rios just stared down at the man speechless. When Salem ranted, as he was doing now, it meant he was exhausted. Why the young soldier talked more when half asleep than when fully awake was a mystery to anyone who knew him well. He would just prattle on and on about any topic that came up. The chattering drove the team crazy. It was, Rios figured, adrenaline or nervous energy but it was a bane to the team when they needed to rest.

"Cha Min Soo has a mission for us."

"Didn't figure he was selling Avon, Tyson."

"Salem, we need to be on flight to Atlanta in three hours and then to South Korea."

"I hate Korea. Damn it, take you're fucking drones and shove them up your ass you fucking sorry little fucks. Drones suck. Drones do not have a damn role in real fighting, drones are going to put us out of work Tyson and that is something Alice should worry her pretty little head about and not her god damned title. Drones, secretaries, contract writers, mercenaries what a bunch of fucking twaddle."

"Twaddle?"

"Shit."

"Three hours Salem."

"Do I look fucking deaf? And speaking of deaf, do you think you have the ringer on my phone turned up loud enough you sorry prick? If you are so afraid you might the little woman's 'Please baby I miss you so much and I can't find some horny little pimple faced prick to dazzle my two timing unquenchable libido, so please baby please just come on home.' call, try sleeping with the loud fucker. Fuck this game I'm putting Mario in. And yea I heard you, wheels up to Atlanta in three fuckin' hours and then off to happy, happy Korea. Fuck me twice I hate Korea; Kimchee is the fucking fecal matter of dietary… dietary some fucking thing. It's so damned bad I'm speechless."

Rios started to say 'Thank the gods for that.' But thought better of it and went to pack their kits while Elliot switched the game to Mario.