How to Get Along With Your Enemy 101
a list by Agent Rider, added to by a laughing student, Tom Harris, and four very weirded-out SAS and MI6 operatives
1. Always piss off your enemy. Really. Enemies will never get along. Agent Rider.
He spat at Snake's feet. This seemed to enrage the man further, but when had Alex cared about what he said to people? He didn't hate Snake, but the guy could've been a bit better about having a kid around the base. Now all there was really left for him was payback. It wasn't like Alan Blunt or Tulip Jones would care. As long as he came back in one piece and could still operate, then they didn't care whether he got into fights with SAS soldiers or not.
Besides, it was a training exercise.
Block. Dodge. Punch. Duck. Block. Dodge. Punch. Duck. Block. Dodge. Punch. Du-A well placed blow on Snake's side and bad timing on his side resulted in an already forming bruise on his skin. He blocked another blow.
Anger would mess him up. It always did with most people. Rile 'em up, let 'em loose, off they go. Oh, an amazing airplane flying through the sky? Shoot it down. Fighting was all about tactics, strategies, and most importantly, distractions. He would throw insult after insult and sidestep as the anger grew.
When things like that happened, you treated your opponent like a raging bull. They then only had one direction: forward.
"You know," Alex said coolly. "For a SAS man, you're not that bad. Tuck your elbows in, and bend a little. Helps." The tip, of course, lit the fuse. A boy giving advice to a grown man? Now that was embarrassing. He could see the anger in Snake's eyes. Good. That was good.
A kick. He slammed onto the ground with a foot hitting the air where he had been seconds ago. He rolled to a standing point and punched. He was blocked. Another blow from Snake.
"I take back what I said." He could see Snake dissecting this. At first glance, it would be a compliment. But it wasn't time for the first glance. "You hit like a girl." Classics. Maybe he didn't regret it now, and maybe he'd regret it later, but what did he have to lose?
2. Don't piss off your enemy. It makes it worse. Eagle.
It hadn't really been his fault. He was tired. There were angry sargents. And then there just happened to be those newbies sticking their arses where they didn't belong. The end result?
"Eagle!" He gulped. The sound of faint laughter and boots heading his way made him wish he could sink farther down into the mud he had slipped in. A pair of dirty black combat boots stopped about three inches from his nose. He stared down his nose at the boots, wondering for not the first time, why he had signed up for the army.
"You are not six-years old, soldier. You cannot simply lie down and say, 'Oh, sargent," he mimicked a high, girly voice. "I'm tired.' No. Get up and get going, soldier! I don't have all day!" Eagle muttered something about arses and how they chose sargents.
"What was that, soldier?" The sargent leered.
"N-nothing," He stammered.
"Latrine duty!"
3. Fuck trying to get along with the enemy. Punch them in the face. Wolf.
He growled. On the bunk next to him, Snake knew what was going on. He wisely scooted over to the farthest edge of his bed.
"Shut the ruddy hell up!"He roared. If Eagle spoke one more word, he would blow up. Fox threw himself to the floor and covered his head with his arms.
"If you want to live, Eagle, duck and cover!" Fox cried. A good choice. Wolf stalked slowly towards Eagle, with what he assumed to be a very threatening look on his face, because Eagle screamed and ran for the door. Snake got up and blocked it.
"I'll do anything," Eagle squealed, as if he were a little girl. Hmm..., he thought. Would I get binned for- Fuck this.
His hand connected squarely with Eagle's face.
4. Run. Agent Daniels/Fox.
"What's-" Snake wheezed. "-going-" Pant. "-on?" He slowed down a bit to catch his breath, but he didn't stop. A loud, defiant yell came from behind him.
"I-" Fox gasped for air. "I stole Eagle's stash of chocolate, and he's not really happy right now. Faster!"
"What?" Snake screeched. Another yell from behind them. "This is it! We're doomed! Eagle plus no chocolate equals us with our heads chopped off!" His tone became sombre. "It was good knowing you, brother."
He nodded. "You, too, Snake." They dove behind a tree and stared at the storming Eagle.
"On a count of three," Fox whispered. "We'll make a run for it." Snake nodded.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!" They yelled together, running for their lives.
5. Yell out the first word that comes to your mind before walking away quickly in the other direction. Tom Harris.
Okay, maybe his problems didn't compare to Alex's, or Snake's, or Eagle's, or Dog's or whatever, but he knew that Mr. Donovan was not happy. The most dangerous thing in Tom's life was a tie between his house, where plates and cuss words flew through the air, or Mr. Donovan, when he was mad.
Please, he begged silently. Let class be over. Let class be over. Needless to say, his prayer did not work. His teacher certainly looked as if someone had painted him red. His dark mustache rippled with anger. When Tom had told him that he hadn't finished his project, the class went silent.
"Mr. Harris," he began dangerously. "Did I just hear you tell me you didn't finish your project?" If this was any other time, he would've laughed at the way his voice had just raised an octave, like when people were kicked where the sun didn't shine.
"Yes, sir," he squeaked, melting and slumping down in his chair.
"Mr. Harris, I-" The flurry of relieved students cut between the student and teacher. Quickly, he grabbed his things and rushed for the door. Then, he froze. A large, meaty hand was closed around his arm.
"Mr. Harris-"
"Tomato!" he yelled.
"Wha-" Tom yanked his arm free and headed in the other direction.
6. Beg for mercy. Especially when you are on the other end of:
a) a highly-trained SAS soldier
b) an angry sargent
c) both a highly-trained SAS soldier and an angry sargent
Snake.
He gave a nervous chuckle and slowly, very slowly, moved backwards. The two honey-and-feather-covered men had twin looks of anger on their faces.
The prank hadn't been meant for them. It had been meant for the ever-annoying Eagle, who seemed to be on Kilo-Unit's mind 24/7. In K-Unit, you were either pissed off by Eagle, laughing at Eagle, running from Eagle, or thanking the Lord above that you had someone who could be the scapegoat of your problems. At that point, he had been pissed off at Eagle, who had just stolen his clothes and forced him to walk around in his boxers to find them, the army-issued uniform strung on the flagpole.
Now, coming from an army man who showered in a small, outdoor cubicle, most people would say he should have had no problem walking around Brecon Beacons naked. However, Eagle had also chosen to dye his skin a bright shade of magenta.
...Maybe he should've made sure it was Eagle at the door before dumping the concoction on them.
"Snake...," Wolf warned.
"It wasn't my fault!" A glare from Sargent Sanders. "Okay," he said desperately. "Maybe it was my fault. But I didn't mean to, I swear. I thought you were Eagle-don't punish me, don't punish me, please!"
It didn't work, but it was worth a shot. Well, he'd get Eagle back another day. Assuming he survived this one.
1,383 words. I hope you guys liked the list!
Leave a review, please! I want to know if you laughed at all during this, or if you sat stony-faced staring at your electronic device.
If you like Brookland-goes-to-SAS stories, check out my story, Classified. If you don't, whatever. Go read my other stories-though let me warn you, most of them are Percy Jackson. There's a bit of Hunger Games, Matched, The Fault in Our Stars, um, and yeah. I hope you learned how to get along with your enemy.
Achieving Elysium