Ron's Worst Nightmares

Operation Vigilant Warden, 2

By Pat Squared

In Apocalypse Now, Col. Kilgore said, "You smell that? Do you smell that? ... Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for twelve hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like ... victory. Someday this war's gonna end."

However the war between Ron Stoppable and Vasilii Boiarskii would never end. There was no cleansing napalm to clear the sweet sticky air of rotten flesh. There would be no smell of victory - just the coppery, sticky scent of spilled blood and the arousing scent of burnt gunpowder. Not even a century in the Land of the Big PX would elimate the experience of this war from their collective consciousness. The war between the two would countine as long as these two personas shared the same mortal flesh. It would continue until the end of his days.

Vasilii smiled. Dr. Hanabal Lector was a master of manipulating the human mind. Vasilii was the master of placing a 175-grain 30-calibler match grade bullet in it at two hundred plus meters.

Private Vasilii Boiarskii, First Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment, First Marine Expeditionary Force, has lost his battlefield cherry in a shithole called Sudan and become the alpha male among the dogs of war. Not even the warm bodies of attractive females aroused him like the chaos, blood, and disorder of the battlefield. Here, an entire country became his playground.

The local militia had someone who must have watched Blackhawk Down. The street looked exactly the film down to the burnt out hulk of a helicopter. Unfortunately for the flight crew, the locals could not tell the difference between a Red Crescent chopper delivering humanitarian supplys and an American Blackhawk with a squad of marine aboard. The Red Crescent flight crew was chopped up into little pieces. If some of the locals were into cannibalism, Vasilii would have not been surprised.

Everyone was a thing in Vasilii's world. They were there to allow Vasilii to act out God's great play. They were the bit actors that the hero slayed in great numbers to warm up before facing off against the big boss.

Ron Stoppable had been learning. He learned when it was time to let Vasilii keep their body alive. However, Ron still had the tendacy to cut of Vasilii just as things were getting fun.

If it was not for Ron, Vasilii would have long ran out of rounds for his favorite tool. The Precision Weapons Shop at Quantico, Virgina made a weapon worthy of Vasilii Boiarskii skills. Although the M25 semiautomatic action was not as accurate that the M40A3 bolt action sniper rifle used by Marine Corps snipers, the M25 allow Vasilii to quickly switch to the next target without having to dismount his weapon to manipulate a bolt.

There was always a temptation to turn another human being into an object lesson. However, Ron refused to shot anyone that was not armed. Ron was right, but not for the right reasons. If Vasilii killed them all, who would live to spread the message.

If only the local population could read, Vasilii's image would be up on wanted posters. He always wanted to see how high the bounty would be on his head. He hoped that it was cash. He was worth more than a couple goats or chickens.

It was Ron's turn to run the body. Vasilii just watched as the wealking fought the urge to fall asleep in the hide. They had been awake for seventy two hours. However to fall asleep outside would mean being eaten by hyenas.

Two hours later, Ron Stoppable crawled into an attic. The only occupants were insects, rats, and a dead body. The body was rotten enough to discourage all but the most desparate from staying inside the building.

It was time to rest. He was less than 4,000 meters from battalion base camp. 4,000 meters to his ticket to the completion of his mission. 4,000 meters to an ice-cold beer and maybe a chance at some USDA choice grade steak, just this side of bloody, served with a mushroom and red wine sauce.

However, between Ron Stoppable and his desire for decent food was a a couple hundred militia members who would like nothing better than to feed Ron Stoppable his own balls.

Terror got old. After a while one got numb. Ron Stoppable was beyond numb. He closed his eyes and the nightmares came.

This time the ones he killed cheered and dance as he killed Kim Possible. Kim, age five, Ron pulled the trigger. Kim at the junior prom, Ron used a hatchet. The evening Kim and he made love, Ron choked her to death as he raped her.

The veterans told him about the dreams. They told him about the gun that would not work, enemies that would be invunerable to whatever deam weapons he had. However they did not tell Ron Stoppable about torturing and killing the girl he still loved.

Vasilii was happy. He had all access to all the bitterness and hatred that Ron Stoppable had shoved into the darkest recesses of his mind. Vasilii was like an evil Rufus high on extra cheesy nacos.

Ron did not need a ray to become evil. He always was evil, it was just that he denied his true nature.

Giving into Vasilii felt so temping. Vasilii lived in the now with no though beyond making his enemies hurt. However, when Vasilii went away, it was Ron that would have to pay the price.

The sun and the bitting insects woke Ron Stoppable in time for the local festivities.

Depite a pitch battle on the the eastern edge of town, the locals were acting like nothing was happening here. The market was open. The local HIV prostitutes were selling pleasure and death for pennies. The bazzar had goods from food to Isreali M26A2 hand grenades.

Outside the local mullahs were encouraging the local militia to fight the western infidel. The cannabis was being passed out and the shits were have one big community smoke out.

They were chanting slogan as Ron prepared for his final stand. They were going to assault Ron's fellow marines and he couldn't let them.

Vasilii was not going to oppose him on this fight. Vasilii probably would ensure that Ron Possible would die with a stiffie. This was all that Vasiliied lived for.

Ron prepared the last of his claymore mines on a time delay. It will ignite ten seconds after the door was opened. It would not kill the first ones in but kill the ones coming in afterwards.

Sixty seven M118LR match grade round, he vowed to take out at least sixty seven of the enemy.

Ron Stoppable placed the crosshairs on the face of the mullah.

Four muscles, three and a half pound, the familiar kick, and Ron Stoppable started to pay the ferryman's fare to Vahalla.