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Dead Fox Part 2
This guy was really getting on Eric's nerves.
"So how many people actually died on this mission?"
Eric tapped his cigarette to knock off the ashes.
"Six."
"Six huh? That's not a whole lot."
"In this line of work, not a lot is just enough."
The man that was getting on Eric's nerves so badly was a short, brown
haired, skinny little number cruncher named Donovan Cash. He was the
mission analyst for Fox's most recent mission. Eric didn't like him
one bit. Fox would probably like him less.
Thank God Fox didn't know about this guy.
"So when is Red Fox going to arrive?" Donovan asked.
"Soon." Was all Eric was willing to reply.
"I can't wait to meet him."
Eric stood up.
"No, you are not going to meet him."
"Why not?"
"Because Fox didn't know you were the analyst."
"So? We'll just tell him when he arrives."
"No. If there's one thing Fox hates, it's being kept in the dark. If
he finds out you were on this mission, he'll beat the shit out of me
then shoot you. Twice probably."
"Oh. So I'm out of this mission?"
"Exactly."
"Ok.So when do I meet Red Fox?"
This was more than Eric could stand. He got up and left the room
without another word.
*********
The chopper let down at FOXHOUND headquarters with a loud thud. The
doors opened to reveal a tall, blonde man in the custom elite green
field uniform given to those who made it to the elite level of
FOXHOUND. He had a bandage over his right arm and his long locks were
saturated and covered half of his face. A huge group came to
congratulate him on his recent mission, most were clad in the dark
green of the lower class of soldiers, but there were some in the
black uniforms of the advanced squadron and several white clad
doctors or kitchen crew members. They all screamed and applauded as
Fox jumped down from the chopper and made his way to the elevator
that was unfortunately past the huge mob of people. Screams of
questions and praise rang through his ears and hands shot out of
every corner to touch his sacred body.
"..Ummmm." Was all Fox could get out to the score of
questions that bombarded him at unbelievable volumes. For being a
secret mission, a whole lot of people seamed to know about it. By some
miracle, he managed to escape from the mob of soldiers and get inside the
elevator, fighting to keep everyone else out. Making sure no one could get
inside, he hit the third floor button and slumped against the wall. He let
a sigh escape his parched lungs.
"The sad part is: this is as good as it gets." He said to himself.
"Surely it can't be all that bad?"
Fox started and looked around for the voice that he knew so well.
"Eric?"
"You forgot to turn off the transceiver. I heard everything. Quite a
welcome, huh?"
"I guess.where are you?"
"At the bar, waiting for you."
Fox smiled. The 'bar' was nothing more than a table in the cafeteria that
specialized in intoxicating substances.
"Nah. I'm tired; think I'll hit the cot."
"All right man, I'll drink for you."
"You do that."
Fox turned off the transceiver and waited for the metallic 'ding' that
signified the arrival of his floor.
He exited the elevator and shuffled down the hall to the stairwell.
He always took the stairwell to his room since there was always frequent
traffic in the main elevator. People were one thing he wasn't in the mood
to come in contact to right now. He almost never was after a mission. As he
approached his room on the top floor of the living quarters where all the
elite boarded, he slipped his card key in and entered his sanctuary.
Closing the door, he locked it and sat down in his chair. His room
had not changed much since the first time he entered it. He had the
standard cot, desk, chair, closet and mirror. The only décor he added was
several types of swords and weapons attached to the walls. Weapons were the
only things he collected, besides memories, and he held on to both. He was
a blade enthusiast, and extremely skilled with every weapon on his wall.
Fox unlatched the belt on his green field pants and set it on the
desk, removing the M92 and placing it also on the table. He unbuttoned his
shirt and threw it down the laundry chute. FOXHOUND had a very unique
laundry system installed. A laundry chute was connected to every room, so
when you had any dirty clothes, you threw them down the chute and they
would pop out into designated baskets, then the laundry crew would clean
them and send them in new the next morning, or if the clothes were too
dirty or torn up to be cleaned, the soldier was issued a new set. Fox would
definitely get a new suit.
He took off his black combat boots and removed his pants. He threw
the pants down the laundry chute as well. The only relics he still had from
his mission were the M9, his combat knife and the canteen. He picked up the
canteen. There were still a good three fourths left of whiskey. He debated
getting drunk, but then thought that someone would probably want to see him
anytime now, and he didn't want that person to see him drunk. He decided to
do what he always did when he had to choose between two difficult choices.
He threw on a pair of black sweatpants and went to go work out.
*********
"It goes without saying sir."
Big Boss crunched on his cigar. A reaction he had to whenever he got asked
a question he didn't feel like asking.
"I don't like it." He replied.
Jonathan Cash, Donovan's older, more business like brother, grew irritated
at this old, yet dangerous, man's opinion.
"Having one ace is fine, but there needs to be some kind of insurance."
Big Boss spun around in his leather swiveling chair, facing away from
Jonathan.
"Mr. Cash, Red Fox has no need of a replacement."
"I'm not talking about a replacement. We just need some back up in case
anything ever happens to him."
Big Boss smiled.
"Nothing is going to happen to Fox. Have you seen the results of his latest
mission? He completed it in less than a few hours!"
"All it takes, sir, is one bullet."
Big Boss smiled even wider.
"Fox has taken many bullets."
"But you never know when the time will come when he up and dies, and we're
left with no replacement."
"We have others in the elite squad."
"But none have the reputation or ability of Red Fox. We need to start
training a replacement!"
Big Boss swiveled around to face Jonathan.
"Are you aware that Fox is only in his mid twenties?"
"Yes sir, but there are many fresh, new recruits that show amazing
potential! I'm sure we can find a replacement for Red Fox."
Big Boss had enough. Some paper pushing infidel was trying to tell HIM what
he should do with HIS soldiers that HE had trained from the ground up,
including his favorite.
Big Boss stubbed his cigar into a gold ash tray.
"Mr. Cash, this conversation is over. I will consider you're ideas, but I
will NOT start looking for another Fox."
"But if you."
"GOOD DAY, sir."
".thank you.sir."
Jonathan turned and exited Big Boss's study. Big Boss pulled another cigar
out of his box and lit it. Puffing lightly, he considered the idea of Fox
dying. He swiveled around again and looked out his window over the main
training court where the soldiers trained in basic firearm skills. The
thought of Fox dying shook him. He stood and threw the relatively new cigar
in the ash tray then walked out of his study.
********
Why are there always so many lines around this place?
The young female soldier tapped her foot impatiently. Never in her life had
she seen such a line for military food. Her long brunette hair rested on
her shoulder, so she knocked it off in frustration. At least another
fifteen minutes until she got up to the servers.
Shouldn't women get special consideration, even in the military?
The man behind her pinched her butt, in an ominous answer to her question.
She sighed and decided not to press the issue with the obviously older,
more experienced soldier. Instead she waited the allotted time to get her
meal. After receiving the tray of volatile military food, she searched the
room for an open table. Not a single empty seat in the place. Suddenly she
caught sight of a middle aged man in a black tank top and green field pants
waving his arms in a drunken stupor. The man sitting next to him, obviously
tired of listening to the drunken man's ravings, got up and left.
Perfect. Just the seat I was looking for.
She walked over to the man and sat down.
"Like I was saying bobby.these penis rings.they don't work worth shit man,
I been wearin' the damn thing for days and I got no growth man."
He looked up to notice that instead of Bobby, there was a very attractive
young woman sitting next to him.
"Woah, Bobby, this drink is sure makin' you look a whole lot better.maybe I
should lay off it before I do something stupid."
He pushed his bottle of vodka off the table.
"Ummmm, hi, I'm Jade."
Eric squinted and looked her up and down.
"Damn Jade, you look.wait a minute, if you're not Bobby, then why did I."
Eric leaped over the table and retrieved his vodka bottle. Quickly he
returned to his seat and tried to engage a conversation with Jade.
"So uh, how long you uh.been.here?"
It was getting hard for Eric to focus on what he was trying to do.
"I've been here for a year." Jade said as she tried to eat her food as
quickly as possible.
"Oh, cool. Uh, so, I'm uh.Eric Clapto.no, I'm Eric uh, Jones?"
Jade was getting irritated with this drunk man's attempts to hit on her.
"Did you know.I'm uh, uh, Red Fox's partner?"
Jade dropped her fork.
"Red.Fox?"
Eric smiled. "Yeah, we just uh, finished a, uh."
Eric's memory was failing him, so he drowned them in his bottle. Jade
turned to face him.
"Tell me about Red Fox."

There! That's chapter one. I'm working on chapter 2 now. This story is
going places I never thought it would. I originally planned to make this
one story like Dead Fox part one. But I decided to use chapters for once.
Maybe I'll get more reviews that way.