It had been a day of roll calls, checks, and ridiculously difficult drills;
followed, one would expect, by intense punishment. That night, a guard
ushered him to his cell
"Dinner in 5, meat" said the burly prison guard
Eric walked over to the bed; where his cellmate was seated; he was 5'9" with a considerable build, 220, he had jet-black hair spilling out from the crest of his head; he sat idly picking at a hangnail; on his dog tags, he could sort of see his last name, a long word, beginning with an 'L'
Eric sat next to him, all he had to say was "Last guy here got the top bunk, now it's my turn. You get the bottom."
Eric just nodded; he stuck out his hand "Eric Simmons"
The man just stared at him for a minute before finally reaching out to him "Carson Leugabell"
The cart came around with dinner; slots in the bars opened up, and the attendant grabbed 2 large (That is, compared to the ones on the top) plates and shoved them through
"Big rations tonight…" commented Carson "…Damn, you told, didn't you?"
"Told what?" asked Eric
"GDI secrets, stupid" said Carson, narrowing his eyes
"What? No, you see," he started "I offered to teach the foreman Kenpo Karate"
"You WHAT?" he said, in disbelief "You fucking idiot!"
"What?" said Eric "You jealous that I get better shifts and better rations without giving GDI away?"
"No, dumbass!" he shouted "We brawl every night; foreman always gets the crap knocked out of him, but NOW…"
"Relax," said Eric "Takes at LEAST 2 years to earn the mentality to kick ass with it, a moron like that, probably even longer"
"Uh huh," he replied "What happens if we're STUCK in this hellhole for longer then that?"
"What, you wanna learn the martial arts?" asked Eric
"Might be nice…" said Carson "…Shit, that'd be awesome!"
"Wanna learn the best way to fight against Kenpo, right?" asked Eric
"Hell," said Carson, throwing his shoulders back "Spare me the frigging' techno babble, eh?"
"Right," said Eric "Seems to me you wanna learn some traditional Judo"
"Dude," cried Carson "What did I say about the damn techno babble?"
"Sorry"
General Wesly chewed nervously on the end of his pen; not caring to look over his papers at the man standing in front of him
"Uhh… sir?" asked a nervous private
"What do you want, boy?" shot back Wesly "Got something for me, or here to waste my precious time?"
"News, sir" he replied
"… … … … Well, don't just stand there, lay it on me, kid!" he shouted after a long silence
He jumped "Uhh, yeah, err, yes sir, the, ah, thing, mister, err, the, umm…" he stuttered
"Well," said Wesly, leaning foreword in his desk "Spill it! I don't bite… very hard"
"Guy with the, Umm," he started "Major Sam Simmons to see you"
"Was that so hard?" asked Wesly "See him in, oh, and by the way… you might at LEAST call me sir"
"Err, sir, yes sir, sir," he said, walking backwards out of the office
Sam walked into the office
"Hello, Gene"
"Hello, Sam" replied Wesly "What brings you here"
"I'll be brief," said Sam "The Waco Militia is offering to relieve you of your duties in searching for the NOD POW camp"
"What's the catch?" asked Wesly, not missing a beat
"We need things," said Sam, looking at a long list "About 4 mammoth tanks, 8 medium tanks, 16 humvee units, maybe a dozen titans, 40 wolverines, enough Disc Grenades, field medic kits, and M-16s to outfit an infantry regiment of 240… and of course ammunition to go with it"
Wesly laughed "And who, pray tell, is going to bankroll all this?"
"My partner," said Sam "Sir Wayne"
"All right," said Wesly "Your bill comes to… $72 Million"
"Hmm…" said Sam "That's 12 over our budget… without ammo?"
"That IS without ammo, Sam" said Wesly
"Well then… can't you give me some kind of discount?" asked Sam
"That IS including the biggest discount I can give you… Tell me Sam, Are your men trained?" asked Wesly
"By me myself" said Sam, proudly
"Oh, by YOU?" said Wesly, sarcastically
"Gene," alleged Sam "Do you not forget I was the super spy that located Kane during the 1st Tiberian war? Recon is my specialty,"
"No cash, no stuff," said Wesly, leaning back in his chair "That's the way it works"
"Well, I HAVE got 1 more person I could ask," pondered Sam
"Who might that be?" curiously asked Wesly
"C.J. Bonner"
"THE C.J. Bonner?" asked Wesly "Trillionaire president of Oilcow trucking?"
"That's the one," said Sam, as he got up and left
Wesly scratched his head in total disbelief
"Nobody believes a liar"
-Aesop
"Dinner in 5, meat" said the burly prison guard
Eric walked over to the bed; where his cellmate was seated; he was 5'9" with a considerable build, 220, he had jet-black hair spilling out from the crest of his head; he sat idly picking at a hangnail; on his dog tags, he could sort of see his last name, a long word, beginning with an 'L'
Eric sat next to him, all he had to say was "Last guy here got the top bunk, now it's my turn. You get the bottom."
Eric just nodded; he stuck out his hand "Eric Simmons"
The man just stared at him for a minute before finally reaching out to him "Carson Leugabell"
The cart came around with dinner; slots in the bars opened up, and the attendant grabbed 2 large (That is, compared to the ones on the top) plates and shoved them through
"Big rations tonight…" commented Carson "…Damn, you told, didn't you?"
"Told what?" asked Eric
"GDI secrets, stupid" said Carson, narrowing his eyes
"What? No, you see," he started "I offered to teach the foreman Kenpo Karate"
"You WHAT?" he said, in disbelief "You fucking idiot!"
"What?" said Eric "You jealous that I get better shifts and better rations without giving GDI away?"
"No, dumbass!" he shouted "We brawl every night; foreman always gets the crap knocked out of him, but NOW…"
"Relax," said Eric "Takes at LEAST 2 years to earn the mentality to kick ass with it, a moron like that, probably even longer"
"Uh huh," he replied "What happens if we're STUCK in this hellhole for longer then that?"
"What, you wanna learn the martial arts?" asked Eric
"Might be nice…" said Carson "…Shit, that'd be awesome!"
"Wanna learn the best way to fight against Kenpo, right?" asked Eric
"Hell," said Carson, throwing his shoulders back "Spare me the frigging' techno babble, eh?"
"Right," said Eric "Seems to me you wanna learn some traditional Judo"
"Dude," cried Carson "What did I say about the damn techno babble?"
"Sorry"
General Wesly chewed nervously on the end of his pen; not caring to look over his papers at the man standing in front of him
"Uhh… sir?" asked a nervous private
"What do you want, boy?" shot back Wesly "Got something for me, or here to waste my precious time?"
"News, sir" he replied
"… … … … Well, don't just stand there, lay it on me, kid!" he shouted after a long silence
He jumped "Uhh, yeah, err, yes sir, the, ah, thing, mister, err, the, umm…" he stuttered
"Well," said Wesly, leaning foreword in his desk "Spill it! I don't bite… very hard"
"Guy with the, Umm," he started "Major Sam Simmons to see you"
"Was that so hard?" asked Wesly "See him in, oh, and by the way… you might at LEAST call me sir"
"Err, sir, yes sir, sir," he said, walking backwards out of the office
Sam walked into the office
"Hello, Gene"
"Hello, Sam" replied Wesly "What brings you here"
"I'll be brief," said Sam "The Waco Militia is offering to relieve you of your duties in searching for the NOD POW camp"
"What's the catch?" asked Wesly, not missing a beat
"We need things," said Sam, looking at a long list "About 4 mammoth tanks, 8 medium tanks, 16 humvee units, maybe a dozen titans, 40 wolverines, enough Disc Grenades, field medic kits, and M-16s to outfit an infantry regiment of 240… and of course ammunition to go with it"
Wesly laughed "And who, pray tell, is going to bankroll all this?"
"My partner," said Sam "Sir Wayne"
"All right," said Wesly "Your bill comes to… $72 Million"
"Hmm…" said Sam "That's 12 over our budget… without ammo?"
"That IS without ammo, Sam" said Wesly
"Well then… can't you give me some kind of discount?" asked Sam
"That IS including the biggest discount I can give you… Tell me Sam, Are your men trained?" asked Wesly
"By me myself" said Sam, proudly
"Oh, by YOU?" said Wesly, sarcastically
"Gene," alleged Sam "Do you not forget I was the super spy that located Kane during the 1st Tiberian war? Recon is my specialty,"
"No cash, no stuff," said Wesly, leaning back in his chair "That's the way it works"
"Well, I HAVE got 1 more person I could ask," pondered Sam
"Who might that be?" curiously asked Wesly
"C.J. Bonner"
"THE C.J. Bonner?" asked Wesly "Trillionaire president of Oilcow trucking?"
"That's the one," said Sam, as he got up and left
Wesly scratched his head in total disbelief
"Nobody believes a liar"
-Aesop