Sorry for not updating. Inspiration has only just struck me.
Base FORGOTTEN HOPE
"Okay, so you went off on your own, without informing me, and, this is the worse of all, did a favor for the psycho?" Captain Steven "Sty" Stikes was more angry at that one fact, not against regs, than the multiple regs violations.
The petite, fragile looking Petty Officer currently under the angry Marine's gaze wasn't fazed, "Come on, Sty, I just took pictures. And what about that 'training mission' to Six Flags last year?" Petty Officer 3rd Class Julia "Jules" Whitmore pointed out.
"I was cleared for that," Sty countered, "You still got that pink elephant?"
She looked hurt, "Why would I ever throw away Mr Snuggles?"
"You named him Mr Snuggles?"
"Well, actually he's a she."
"How- Never mind," Sty pinched the bridge of his nose. It was times like these that he felt like a high school principle. Normally, it was he and Jules that got on the best, as she had the least problems. However, you'd expect the only women to receive SEAL Training, courtesy of the Naval Special Warfare Development Group (SEAL Team 6), to be a complete and utter badass. Not so. He visited her house once (no fraternization happened, despite what the rest of the team may tell you), and her bed looked like a six year old's, complete with an army of colorful stuffed animals. And the only reason he knew that was because he insisted on a tour after seeing her pony and unicorn living room.
She leaned foreward and whispered, "I call her Mr Snuggles because it's so nice to snuggle with her when I'm... done."
Sty just banged his head on the metal table between them, partly out exasperation, and partly to keep professional thoughts.
Jules however, was having fun. Not only had she gotten a chocolate bar earlier for cooperating, but now she was onto her favorite sport: over the top flirting. And what was funny was Lefty had told her stories about how much of a player he was in high school.
"Now, I gotta ask, why?" Sty said.
"Cause he wanted pictures of his daughter," she said, "Come on, he just found out. Are you telling me you wouldn't do the same thing?"
"Actually, I'm wondering what kind of father the psycho would have been if he didn't fake his death and leave the Corps."
"Oh! Tell me! You know him better than I do!" Jules begged.
"I'm imagining her as a teenager training to be a doctor... and him firing live rounds over her head as she patches up a wound on a dummy."
"Tough love kinda guy?"
"Very tough love."
"Eesh."
"Agent Shaw, we lost them around 10th and Lexington."
"Keep looking. I want every traffic camera being watched for that van," Shaw ordered, "Avery, how are we doing tracking that assassin?"
"Damon Alexander," he pulled up a file on the screen, "Works as a stock broker for himself. Owns a small house in Maimi. No prior arrest records."
"How can that be," she asked, "We got murder in the streets. Bystanders caught in the crossfire."
"Like a war," Avery guessed.
"No," Shaw shook her head, "Every war we know of is very overt, from gang war to a world war. These guys hide in the shadows. They work to remain secret."
"Like special forces?"
"No, Special Forces was originally designed to be a force multiplier. They would be almost useless without conventional forces. No, these guys are more terrorist than soldier."
"Or," Avery said, "Counter-Terror."
Bosnia...
Alex tried damned hard. He banked his fighter left. The explosions of the anti-air fire still followed him. He had to get back to the base. He took those pictures of the Russian Spetsnaz down below. Almost two companies worth. It would cause a serious problem for the forces on the ground.
Unfortunately, the bandwidth of the data stream wasn't big enough to broadcast a complete picture. They would need him to fly back with the DSM.
"Come on, Come on," he urged his plane. Almost past them, almost past them...
Boom!
His plane spun out of control. He struggled, and barely pulled the ejection lever.
The last thing he saw in the plane was the poloroid of him, Ricky and his five months pregnant sister.
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