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Chapter Two – T-Unit
The Landrover bumped and barged its way along the weather-beaten country track, the SAS driver trying to negotiate the crevices and potholes in the road. The sky was grim and so was Alex's temperament, as he was shoved and jostled in the back, wedged between two camouflage-clad, beefy looking men. There wasn't much conversation, although the two beefy men looked like they'd sooner shoot you than discuss the weather with you.
He had left almost immediately after arriving back home from the MI6 headquarters. Jack hadn't liked it but then he'd always known she wouldn't. She needn't worry though this time; this mission wasn't particularly dangerous, just painful.
Finally, the road banked up onto a cornered off compound, a tall wire fence topped with barbed wire running round the perimeter of the separate enclosures. The driver pulled up at a small guardhouse at the entrance to the compound and flashed a small, rectangular ID card. The guard nodded and raised the barrier.
It was living Hell, just as Alex had remembered. The figures milling about the compound were hunched over, blatantly miserable.
The driver parked the vehicle in a small, parking spot off the main road running the through the middle of two, grey, military looking buildings. Alex was ushered out of the Landrover and he followed the driver up to the left building.
This had to be some kind of reception area, he realised. Posters campaigning for enlistment hung upon the unpainted walls. This was lacking some kind of logic, thought Alex. Surely you'd have already enlisted if you were standing in this office, the poster wouldn't have to persuade you to do it again. Strange.
Alex's attention was brought back to the present when the driver tapped a pathetic looking bell on the desk, trying to alert the oblivious receptionist that there was more than one human in the room. She looked up, startled.
"Oh hello." She said, dizzily. "Is this Cub?" She gestured over to where Alex was critically studying the posters.
"Yes." The driver replied. Alex realised he hadn't actually heard the driver speak before. "He needs to see the Sergeant." The driver went on, talking slowly, as if to a foreign person.
"I see..." The receptionist said, pushing her glasses further up her nose. She leant over the back of her office chair, and through an open doorway. "KENNETH!!!" She yelled, making both the driver and Alex jump.
There were scuffling sounds coming through the doorway that the receptionist had just hollered through. After a few moments, a man appeared in the doorway.
At first, Alex wanted to laugh. Then he wanted to cry. The man in the doorway was the dictionary definition of 'Sergeant', complete with bulging, inhuman muscles and handlebar moustache. He wore combats and his left arm brassard was laden with so many badges of merit Alex was surprised his whole arm didn't fall off.
"Sergeant Himmel." He man said, extending a hairy hand toward Alex.
"Cub." Alex replied. They shook hands. After the Sergeant let go, Alex was relieved to find his hand had not been mangled between the Sergeant's strong fingers. He massaged it quickly with his other hand while the Sergeant wasn't looking.
"Dragon." Himmel had turned to the driver. The driver immediately came to attention, stiff as a board.
"Sergeant." He barked.
"Dismissed." Dragon turned on his heel and marched out, into the murky grey. Himmel turned back to Alex.
"I feel sorry for you cub, I really do..." He said, twisting his bushy moustache between his fingers as he did so. "It's a lost cause you know...we only keep them on because they pay us..." Alex assumed he was referring to the agents he would have to train. This did not bode well. "Let's just say..." The Sergeant said, twisting his moustache again. "...that T-Unit deserve to be Z-Unit if you catch my drift." So saying, he led Alex outside and across the field that was behind the grey buildings. Dotted around the field were small, wooden huts. Barracks.
"Over here..." The Sergeant indicated towards a small building near a cluster of trees. They set off towards it, anticipation rumbling in Alex's stomach.
Before opening the heavy wooden door, the Sergeant turned to Alex, frowning slightly.
"These agents are a little bit erm....special. You understand that though Cub, right?" Alex nodded. Reluctantly, Himmel unlocked and opened the door, ushering Alex inside.
There were are a cluster of people in the room, all congregated around a group of metal beds in the far corner of the room. They were all dressed in combat gear, making it hard to distinguish from one to the other. They were five of them in total, Alex realised, three men and one woman.
Himmel stepped in after him, glaring around the room.
"The Sergeant has entered you group of measly-piffle-achieving-parasites!" He barked. "Attention!" The measly-piffle-achieving-parasites reluctantly pulled themselves off the beds and formed a line in the empty space before Alex and Himmel. Himmel shook his head. "Diabolical." He muttered in an undertone to Alex. "At ease!!!" He barked. The five agents relaxed slightly.
"This..." Himmel said to Alex, gesturing at the nearest agent. "...is Weasel." Weasel was tall and thin, with a shock of gingery hair sticking out from under his beret. He had a sharp, pointy face and small, black eyes. "He's been in training for three years..." Himmel went on. "But failed because he was, and I quote 'too violent'. Weasel insisted on causing the examiner as much physical pain as possible...therefore breaking the SAS code, and failing his examination." Weasel scowled at Himmel, flexing his fingers as though he would rather like to wrap them around the Sergeant's neck and not let go. Ever.
Himmel moved down the line. The next agent was absurdly fat. Rolls and rolls of excess body were winched in by the huge belt and stretch marks were beginning to form on the agent's combats.
"This..." Himmel said. "...is Pig." The Sergeant looked Pig up and down with distaste. "Intelligent yet completely useless out on the field, Pig passed all training apart from the physical tests, therefore 95%..." Weasel sniggered. Himmel glared at him. "Snigger all you like Weasel." He said. "At least Pig can be in a room with another living creature for more than twenty minutes without burning it up with a magnifying glass, you stinking piece of rat-dung." This shut Weasel up.
Himmel moved further down the line. "Lemming." He said, gesturing towards an Asian looking agent. "Failed seventeen times due to the fact he refused to touch the weapons."
"I am a pacifist." Lemming piped up.
"Why did you join the SAS then?" Alex asked, curious.
"My dad sent me here to toughen me up." Lemming replied, studying his boots intently.
"And so he should have, you soft nancy-boy." Himmel said, shooting Lemming a look of utter disgust. "A strapping young lad such as yourself should be embracing this kind of thing, enjoying the experience."
"The only thing I'd like to be embracing sir..." Lemming said. "Is a nice cup of coffee and my Harry Potter book." The agents all laughed, Himmel looked as though he might hit something.
"This is EXACTLY why you were sent here, Lemming!!" He yelled. "To learn how to give RESPECT!!" He wiped the spittle off his lips before moving onto the next agent in the line.
"Prawn." He said, gesturing towards a tall, btrown haired young man of around twenty. "Obsessed with cookery. Spends more time making crème caramel than actually training." Prawn grinned.
"And finally," Himmel had moved on. "...Amoeba." Amoeba was the only girl and was actually roughly the size of an amoeba. She was so small that her combat year was roughly five sizes too big for her. 'Failed due to weapon incompetence." Himmel went on. "Well, that's it!" He said, turning back to Alex. "I'll leave you to it then." And with one last threatening look over his shoulder at the agents, he left, the door slamming behind him.
Alex was left alone with the agents...
