The 99th Platoon
(A/N I managed to scrape up enough time to write up chapter 2. This chapter is slightly more interesting than chapter 1 but the story is still in the beginning. Bear with me here.)
Chapter 2: Rain, rain, go away…
Fourteen figures of varying shapes and sizes stood in the mud as the rain pelting down in buckets. It still hadn't stopped from the night before. Sarge stood in front of the row of soldiers. His eyes passed along each member of the squad. Cold, wet and standing in the mud they still stood at complete attention. Sarge opened his mouth and yelled above the raging storm around them.
"Gentlemen! We have a situation! That fuck ass legless professor's twin brother, a weasel so diabolical, so... er… diabolical...wait I already... fuck that shit look we gotta get a team together and storm the enemy base which is chock fulla those scum suckin' professors creations, the Komiz, which are utterly diabolical...oh fuck that word! Anyway Komiz are the next line of Tediz. There 110% more diabolical...Jeebus not that fuck again! Just imagine Tediz on steroids and you've got Komiz. Anyway as I was saying we gotta get into the enemy base, eliminate all opposition with STEALTH, I repeat STEALTH FULLY, and grab Conker the Squirrel, our king, whom the professor has captured in hopes of ruining our newly found peace. This evil must be stopped! Privates follow me!" With this he turned around and marched into the briefing room. The platoon followed.
"Well..." spoke Sarge as he laid out a complicated map over a table full of beer bottles and beaver magazines. "...er...shit...um...pay no attention to those, soldiers! Anyway hopefully you've understood the purpose of our mission and are willing to help out. You're all brave soldiers and courageous and er...courageous and…fuck that shit... lets just get started already! Soldiers, ten-hut! Follow me to the Armouries," with that the platoon marched back out into the rain and into the armouries. The team was getting slightly annoyed to say the least.
Once in the Armouries Sarge turned to face his platoon again.
"Soldiers this is a very crucial and....crucial... erm...crucial part of the mission. You shall now pick your weapons and your choice is going to affect the flow of this mission...crucially... crucially? Where the hell did I get that? Anyway your firearm, privates, is your best friend in your time in service. Look after it like it was your kid. And its costly so don't lose it or those pen pushin' big wigged sons of a bitches are gonna give me hell! Alright choose your weapons and let's get goin' already!" Saying this he picked up a sniper rifle, a shotgun, a grenade clip and a med pack, shoving them in his backpack.
"O.K. boys, time to kiss your asses goodbye and good luck..."
The platoon grabbed their weapons and ran out to the military plane that would take them to the island. But as private CuMiT was scrambling out the Armoury doors…
"Private!" barked Sarge.
"Sir?" came the reply from the shorter-than-the-average-squirrel.
"You CuMiT? As in capital see. Little you. Capital em. Little eye. Capital tee?"
"Sir yes sir,"
"That's how it's spelt?"
"Written like that on my birth certificate sir,"
"Oh. But that's beside the point. Private your ride is over there," he motioned towards a smaller helicopter, "You and your slug will meet up with us on the coast. Got that?"
"Sir, yes sir!" said the private, waddling over to the helicopter. Sarge ran into the military plane that held the other members of the platoon and slammed the door shut.
"MOVIN' OUT!" he yelled to the pilots.
The soldiers were soaking wet from the sheet rain that was pouring down outside and packed like sardines in a box too small to fit one sardine, but still there were no complaints as they buckled up. The pilots started up the plane. The engines roared into life and the plane took off headed to what might be ultimate destruction...
After sometime in the air the rain continued to fall while the planes two tiny windscreen wipers wiped off sheet water only to have it poured back down again. Sarge stood up and addressed the platoon.
"Okay team. This is it. There's no turning back now. You have signed an invisible contract that is binding in everyway. At this precise moment in time we are flying towards enemy airspace. We shall hope our presence is undetected. We shall fly close to the coast were our plane is gonna get us as close as possible to land. There we shall drop down the rafts and paddle across the rest of the way. Our ride shall leave us and we shall be alone. I've got two pieces of advice for you. One. Don't let your weapons out of your sight. Two. Remember be QUIET at all times, don't stuff up and get us all killed. Three. Wait I said two didn't I? Shit. Anyway...Three things... Three. If you are captured DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT tell those Komiz bastards ANYTHING that will jeopardize the mission. Hopefully we'll be able to come and get you outta there before they torture you to death,"
Sarge stared blankly into space. "I shouldn't have said that," he thought.
"Erm... here are your radios that will be used for long distance transitions," He tossed a radio to each soldier.
Suddenly the pilot yelled out from the cockpit.
"Sir we've been…"
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA*
Soon after the firing was heard a dozen holes appeared in the floor of the plane. "…spotted," muttered the pilot as he slumped into his chair. Dead.
"SHIT! Sir they got Jones!" yelled the co pilot as he grabbed the planes controls.
"Get your heads down privates!" yelled Sarge his voice piercing the sound of a second volley of fire.
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA*
'Is everyone okay?" he yelled.
"Sir yes sir!" yelled the platoon. The co pilot was yelling into a radio.
"Mayday, mayday this is the co pilot onboard flight Alpha Zulu Niner Niner. We are under attack; I repeat we are under attack. Our location is..."
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA KABOOM*
"What the heck happened?" Sarge yelled, bullet holes decorating the interior of the plane.
"We just lost our left engines! I can't control her! We're going down!"
"Brace yourselves privates!"
The plane has tilted downwards. Through the cockpit the island was visible, as was the turret gun that had been firing. The chopper sped towards the island, the coast rushing closer all the time. A bullet suddenly pierced the cockpit hitting the co pilot in the arm. He involuntarily jerked the controls towards the left, toward the dense jungle growth. The trees have filled all view. Impact was imminent.
"Oh brother..." murmured Sarge
*BOOOOOM*
(A\N See?! I told you it'd get better. NOW the action part starts!)
(A/N I managed to scrape up enough time to write up chapter 2. This chapter is slightly more interesting than chapter 1 but the story is still in the beginning. Bear with me here.)
Chapter 2: Rain, rain, go away…
Fourteen figures of varying shapes and sizes stood in the mud as the rain pelting down in buckets. It still hadn't stopped from the night before. Sarge stood in front of the row of soldiers. His eyes passed along each member of the squad. Cold, wet and standing in the mud they still stood at complete attention. Sarge opened his mouth and yelled above the raging storm around them.
"Gentlemen! We have a situation! That fuck ass legless professor's twin brother, a weasel so diabolical, so... er… diabolical...wait I already... fuck that shit look we gotta get a team together and storm the enemy base which is chock fulla those scum suckin' professors creations, the Komiz, which are utterly diabolical...oh fuck that word! Anyway Komiz are the next line of Tediz. There 110% more diabolical...Jeebus not that fuck again! Just imagine Tediz on steroids and you've got Komiz. Anyway as I was saying we gotta get into the enemy base, eliminate all opposition with STEALTH, I repeat STEALTH FULLY, and grab Conker the Squirrel, our king, whom the professor has captured in hopes of ruining our newly found peace. This evil must be stopped! Privates follow me!" With this he turned around and marched into the briefing room. The platoon followed.
"Well..." spoke Sarge as he laid out a complicated map over a table full of beer bottles and beaver magazines. "...er...shit...um...pay no attention to those, soldiers! Anyway hopefully you've understood the purpose of our mission and are willing to help out. You're all brave soldiers and courageous and er...courageous and…fuck that shit... lets just get started already! Soldiers, ten-hut! Follow me to the Armouries," with that the platoon marched back out into the rain and into the armouries. The team was getting slightly annoyed to say the least.
Once in the Armouries Sarge turned to face his platoon again.
"Soldiers this is a very crucial and....crucial... erm...crucial part of the mission. You shall now pick your weapons and your choice is going to affect the flow of this mission...crucially... crucially? Where the hell did I get that? Anyway your firearm, privates, is your best friend in your time in service. Look after it like it was your kid. And its costly so don't lose it or those pen pushin' big wigged sons of a bitches are gonna give me hell! Alright choose your weapons and let's get goin' already!" Saying this he picked up a sniper rifle, a shotgun, a grenade clip and a med pack, shoving them in his backpack.
"O.K. boys, time to kiss your asses goodbye and good luck..."
The platoon grabbed their weapons and ran out to the military plane that would take them to the island. But as private CuMiT was scrambling out the Armoury doors…
"Private!" barked Sarge.
"Sir?" came the reply from the shorter-than-the-average-squirrel.
"You CuMiT? As in capital see. Little you. Capital em. Little eye. Capital tee?"
"Sir yes sir,"
"That's how it's spelt?"
"Written like that on my birth certificate sir,"
"Oh. But that's beside the point. Private your ride is over there," he motioned towards a smaller helicopter, "You and your slug will meet up with us on the coast. Got that?"
"Sir, yes sir!" said the private, waddling over to the helicopter. Sarge ran into the military plane that held the other members of the platoon and slammed the door shut.
"MOVIN' OUT!" he yelled to the pilots.
The soldiers were soaking wet from the sheet rain that was pouring down outside and packed like sardines in a box too small to fit one sardine, but still there were no complaints as they buckled up. The pilots started up the plane. The engines roared into life and the plane took off headed to what might be ultimate destruction...
After sometime in the air the rain continued to fall while the planes two tiny windscreen wipers wiped off sheet water only to have it poured back down again. Sarge stood up and addressed the platoon.
"Okay team. This is it. There's no turning back now. You have signed an invisible contract that is binding in everyway. At this precise moment in time we are flying towards enemy airspace. We shall hope our presence is undetected. We shall fly close to the coast were our plane is gonna get us as close as possible to land. There we shall drop down the rafts and paddle across the rest of the way. Our ride shall leave us and we shall be alone. I've got two pieces of advice for you. One. Don't let your weapons out of your sight. Two. Remember be QUIET at all times, don't stuff up and get us all killed. Three. Wait I said two didn't I? Shit. Anyway...Three things... Three. If you are captured DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT tell those Komiz bastards ANYTHING that will jeopardize the mission. Hopefully we'll be able to come and get you outta there before they torture you to death,"
Sarge stared blankly into space. "I shouldn't have said that," he thought.
"Erm... here are your radios that will be used for long distance transitions," He tossed a radio to each soldier.
Suddenly the pilot yelled out from the cockpit.
"Sir we've been…"
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA*
Soon after the firing was heard a dozen holes appeared in the floor of the plane. "…spotted," muttered the pilot as he slumped into his chair. Dead.
"SHIT! Sir they got Jones!" yelled the co pilot as he grabbed the planes controls.
"Get your heads down privates!" yelled Sarge his voice piercing the sound of a second volley of fire.
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA*
'Is everyone okay?" he yelled.
"Sir yes sir!" yelled the platoon. The co pilot was yelling into a radio.
"Mayday, mayday this is the co pilot onboard flight Alpha Zulu Niner Niner. We are under attack; I repeat we are under attack. Our location is..."
*GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA KABOOM*
"What the heck happened?" Sarge yelled, bullet holes decorating the interior of the plane.
"We just lost our left engines! I can't control her! We're going down!"
"Brace yourselves privates!"
The plane has tilted downwards. Through the cockpit the island was visible, as was the turret gun that had been firing. The chopper sped towards the island, the coast rushing closer all the time. A bullet suddenly pierced the cockpit hitting the co pilot in the arm. He involuntarily jerked the controls towards the left, toward the dense jungle growth. The trees have filled all view. Impact was imminent.
"Oh brother..." murmured Sarge
*BOOOOOM*
(A\N See?! I told you it'd get better. NOW the action part starts!)