Arrival
Let me put it to you straight. My name is Rico Thompson, and I'm a world-class helicopter pilot. I used to work for the USAF before being transfered to the United Nations top secret army known as BESS (Biologically Enhanced Super Soldiers) Yeah, thee name could use a little work. But trust me, being a BESS is not all it's cracked up to be.
I was driving down a dirt road in a UN jeep. It was fairly bumpy, 'cos I fell out of my seat once or twice. I had no idea where I was going. I kept asking the driver, but he didn't react. We stopped at a large building. No words, no nothing on it. It looked to bee some old warehouse. Dirty and rusty on the outside. So I hopped out, and managed to pull open the doors. And I saw my new, ahem, unit.
Well there was a tall, burly man there, he must of been 7'5 cause the other guys were upp to his mid-chest. There were two Asians (one male, one female) dueling it out with swords that I couldn't identify, and there was the last one, who had a long trench coat on and was masacring targets with two revolvers. A differemt bunch. And I wasn't about to fit in.
"Hi there", called out the female dueler, " Don't worry, we all came here one time or another. She whipped out a katana and finished off the other one. "It's all right, we aren't all ninjas like Kenny here." Kenny muttered something under his breath. "Come on, try it. Dueling isn't too hard." She twirled a broadsword around and threw it. It stuck in to the ground and I picked it up.
Great, I haven't been in this building for 5 minutes and I'm swordfighting a ninja. This is not going to end well.
She raised her sword an struck at me, and almost clean took my head off. I countered, but she was always one step ahead of me. We weree dueling it out, and then I remembered. My switch. I always carried a switchblade in my boot. It was long, with a 7-inch blade. If there was any blade I was good using, it was my trusty old switch.
I flicked it out, and she must have been waiting, because at that moment, she dropped he sword and flicked out hers. Her switch had a heart on a black blade. Gee, I thought, what a manly knife. We were fight until I had her at knifepoint. "Why," she said, trying (and failing), to mock my southern accent,"you certainly ain't no rookie." "Thank you.", I replied, and I lifted her up. I felt something behind me, and I turned around slowly. "Hello, Mr. Newcomer." , sid that giant, russian behemoth with muscle like Arnold on metabolic steriods x2.