I haven't really seen a lot of fanfiction done in the second person, so I thought I would give it a shot. It reminds me of the choose your own adventure books I'd read as a kid, so I guess this is kind of a choose your own adventure fanfiction.
THE COBRA MISSILE CRISIS
The sun comes up way too early, you think to yourself as you throw your feet over the side of your bed into your slippers. (No, not the fluffy yellow ones your mom gave you last Christmas, your normal slippers,) and head into the shower. Felt good to finally be able to take a hot shower again, after spending all that time out in the field. Still, it was worth it, the mission was successful. You and your team managed to stop Cobra from destroying part of the Alaskan pipeline, in a weak attempt to cause another gas shortage. Seems Destro formed an alliance with a large OPEC country, and was planning on using the revenue to fund his operations. Even though cold-weather assignments weren't your specialty, the Joes were at an all time low, being the holiday season and all. You were one of the unlucky few that were denied leave using the lottery system.
After the steamy hot shower, you stumble into the kitchen, cursing yourself for not hitting the BX before you left for Alaska. Now there was absolutely no coffee left in your small dorm room. You open the refrigerator hoping to find a Pepsi (or Coke, Mt. Dew, etc, your story, your preference,) or something at least with a little caffeine, only to find a half used bottle of ketchup, some mayonnaise packets, and a bottle of fat free salad dressing. On top of the fridge there was half a loaf of bread, and you wonder what was fuzzier, the slippers your mom gave you for Christmas, or that huge chunk of mold growing on the Home Pride Whole Wheat.
Having no other choice, you put on your favorite civies, jeans and a USC sweatshirt you inherited from someone, and head out in search of food. After a few days of eating nothing but MRE's, you were in the mood for something hot and with a flavor besides bad.
"Hey kid!" Duke says, as you almost run into him. "Heard about the Alaska mission. Great work. When did you get back?"
"Last night." You mumble, still cranky from lack of caffeine.
"Then you're really not going to like this. Hawk wants to see you first thing this morning." You wanted to whine something like: "But it's my day off!" and wisely decided against it. Duke was a great first sergeant, you knew you could count on him in the heat of battle, but back on base, he was kind of a proverbial stick in the mud about protocol.
"Let me just go put on my BDU's." You moan instead.
"Great. I need to get Scarlett and a few other Joes down to the meeting room as well. Be down there in fifteen." You mock salute him with two fingers, and head back into your dorm room to get dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, like clockwork, there was a rag tag team of Joes assembled in the meeting room, lucky 13 including you.
"TEN-HUT!" Duke calls out as Hawk enters the room. He immediately gave the as you were command before taking a seat at one of the desks, rather than standing by the podium. That's what made Hawk, Hawk. He was a one star general, but still, he acted like just another NCO.
"Sorry to call you here on such short notice," he begins "especially since I know a few of you just got back last night. Recon teams have confirmed a few snake sightings in northern Nevada, by the proving grounds. Our guys have been out there working on a top secret new form of smart missile, the kind Cobra would love to get their fangs on. Problem is, we're not done testing it yet. So what we're going to have to do is move the project to a new location. Our ranks are still kind of thin now, and I apologize to those of you called back from leave. You're going to be split into three teams. Two decoys, and one with the actual missile. For your own safety, and the safety of the mission, even you won't know who's carrying the real Mc Coy. Teams break down as follows: Alpha team will consist of Scarlett, Duke, Footloose and Dusty. Bravo team, Flint, Lady Jaye, Gung Ho and Lowlight, and team Charlie will be Beach Head, Cover Girl, Bazooka & Alpine. That leaves you." Hawk says, nodding in your direction. "Since you're the new kid on the block here, I'll let you pick what team you want to go along with."
So this is the part of the story that you can help out with. It's your story, what team do you want to go with? Alpha, Bravo, or Charlie? As soon as I get a few votes, I'll continue on with the story. If there's no interest, then at least I won't waste too much of my time with second person writing, and I'll switch back to more acceptable formats, like first or third person.
THE COBRA MISSILE CRISIS
The sun comes up way too early, you think to yourself as you throw your feet over the side of your bed into your slippers. (No, not the fluffy yellow ones your mom gave you last Christmas, your normal slippers,) and head into the shower. Felt good to finally be able to take a hot shower again, after spending all that time out in the field. Still, it was worth it, the mission was successful. You and your team managed to stop Cobra from destroying part of the Alaskan pipeline, in a weak attempt to cause another gas shortage. Seems Destro formed an alliance with a large OPEC country, and was planning on using the revenue to fund his operations. Even though cold-weather assignments weren't your specialty, the Joes were at an all time low, being the holiday season and all. You were one of the unlucky few that were denied leave using the lottery system.
After the steamy hot shower, you stumble into the kitchen, cursing yourself for not hitting the BX before you left for Alaska. Now there was absolutely no coffee left in your small dorm room. You open the refrigerator hoping to find a Pepsi (or Coke, Mt. Dew, etc, your story, your preference,) or something at least with a little caffeine, only to find a half used bottle of ketchup, some mayonnaise packets, and a bottle of fat free salad dressing. On top of the fridge there was half a loaf of bread, and you wonder what was fuzzier, the slippers your mom gave you for Christmas, or that huge chunk of mold growing on the Home Pride Whole Wheat.
Having no other choice, you put on your favorite civies, jeans and a USC sweatshirt you inherited from someone, and head out in search of food. After a few days of eating nothing but MRE's, you were in the mood for something hot and with a flavor besides bad.
"Hey kid!" Duke says, as you almost run into him. "Heard about the Alaska mission. Great work. When did you get back?"
"Last night." You mumble, still cranky from lack of caffeine.
"Then you're really not going to like this. Hawk wants to see you first thing this morning." You wanted to whine something like: "But it's my day off!" and wisely decided against it. Duke was a great first sergeant, you knew you could count on him in the heat of battle, but back on base, he was kind of a proverbial stick in the mud about protocol.
"Let me just go put on my BDU's." You moan instead.
"Great. I need to get Scarlett and a few other Joes down to the meeting room as well. Be down there in fifteen." You mock salute him with two fingers, and head back into your dorm room to get dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, like clockwork, there was a rag tag team of Joes assembled in the meeting room, lucky 13 including you.
"TEN-HUT!" Duke calls out as Hawk enters the room. He immediately gave the as you were command before taking a seat at one of the desks, rather than standing by the podium. That's what made Hawk, Hawk. He was a one star general, but still, he acted like just another NCO.
"Sorry to call you here on such short notice," he begins "especially since I know a few of you just got back last night. Recon teams have confirmed a few snake sightings in northern Nevada, by the proving grounds. Our guys have been out there working on a top secret new form of smart missile, the kind Cobra would love to get their fangs on. Problem is, we're not done testing it yet. So what we're going to have to do is move the project to a new location. Our ranks are still kind of thin now, and I apologize to those of you called back from leave. You're going to be split into three teams. Two decoys, and one with the actual missile. For your own safety, and the safety of the mission, even you won't know who's carrying the real Mc Coy. Teams break down as follows: Alpha team will consist of Scarlett, Duke, Footloose and Dusty. Bravo team, Flint, Lady Jaye, Gung Ho and Lowlight, and team Charlie will be Beach Head, Cover Girl, Bazooka & Alpine. That leaves you." Hawk says, nodding in your direction. "Since you're the new kid on the block here, I'll let you pick what team you want to go along with."
So this is the part of the story that you can help out with. It's your story, what team do you want to go with? Alpha, Bravo, or Charlie? As soon as I get a few votes, I'll continue on with the story. If there's no interest, then at least I won't waste too much of my time with second person writing, and I'll switch back to more acceptable formats, like first or third person.