PROLOGUE - PART I
Sergei: Phone rings - Takes a bite of his club sandwich and checks the screen, and rolls his eyes.
Andrei: Looks at him with a grin "It's her isn't it?"
Sergei: Finishes chewing and takes a sip of Mountain Dew, then answering the call "I thought you were in Boston today.
Natalia: "What, to get a Samuel Adams and a fucking potato? Get real! This is serious. I'm on a layover in Baltimore until 2, and then it's over to JFK. Did you get those pics I sent you, baby?"
Sergei: Furrows his brows to Andrei who saw the pics
Andrei: Smiles
Sergei: "Yeah, I got them alright. And I've got to say, that was fucking nice. How much were those? That shit was fucking golden!"
Natalia: "Well, you know, baby. It doesn't come cheap but Haji was able to pull some strings with Customs and talked to his uncle at the consulate. One thing led to another, and he got your dad exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Even got you and Dre an extra box for the party.
Sergei: Grinning now "It was fucking perfect. You're a doll for that one, sweetie. Dre loves them to, Right Dre?"
Andrei: "They're God damned tits compared to that cheap Honduran crap." Lighting a Cuban cigar with a wooden match
Natalia: "Well, enjoy. Look, I've got to get moving. I gotta pick up something to eat before I catch my next flight."
Ralphie: Walks into the kitchen with his Xbox headset on "Fuck you! Yeah? So's your mom! What? I'm straighter than the pole your mom dances on, you fairy!"
Sergei: "Damn it, Ralphie! Manners." Whispers "Your stepmom is on the phone."
Ralphie: "Shit." Yells "Hi, Nat!"
Natalia: On speakerphone "Hiiiii Ralphie! Did you get the thing I sent you?"
Ralphie: "Yes, Nat. It's fucking rad!"
Sergei: "Ralphie! Language!"
Andrei: Takes a puff and chuckles "He's going to be a rockstar in no time. That's an original Fender Stratocaster!"
Sergei: "Yeah, my Jimi Hendrix over here…." Picks up a magazine and fans the smoke away as he walks into the living room for a more private conversation and tosses the January copy of Fortune 500 onto the couch "Natalia, look. I know we haven't got a chance to see each other, but I miss you, so God-Damned-Much…" slides open the patio door and steps out onto the balcony "It got me to thinking, you know. It's been what two weeks since we," Pauses and smiles, beaming "went to that crab restaurant and you were wearing that dress, and we went back to your place and-"
Natalia: "Yes, Serj, I remember…" She said with a giggle "and that cute waitress with the rack was hitting on you in front of me the whole time. She's lucky she was so hot, or I wouldn't have tipped her so well…"
Sergei: "Well, you know. If you were that into her we could have had her over to your place too, for a little minage et toi"
Natalia: "Slow your roll there, cowboy! I don't like pussy that much. Speaking of which, that bitch Shiniqua at the office did her nails again."
Sergei: *Frowns* "Doesn't she spend like $300 on her God damned nails every fucking week?"
Natalia: "Well she can afford it." Sighs "Bitch is fine as fuck and she knows it too. That's why she's so stuck up."
Sergei: "Doesn't she have that hot sister, what's her name?"
Natalia: "Oh! Right. The one you fucked before we got together. How in the Hell do you not remember her name?"
Sergei: "Oh, come on Nat, it was just a one night stand, and I was drunk, and she was persuasive…"
Natalia: "Serj, and hoe with titties is persuasive enough to get you in the God damned sack. Seriously, stop thinking with your fucking dick for once."
Sergei: "Look, I'm sorry babe. It's about business. Her uncle works the State Department, right?"
Natalia: sighs annoyed "Yeah, he's like a secretary or liason to the adjuctant or something like that. Why?"
Sergei: "I need you to see if her sister, what's her name with the nails?"
Natalia: "Shiniqua…"
Sergei: "See if Shiniqua can get me the goods on his boss. I hear the guy is really connected with mineral extraction firms, and I need to find out about that oil rig off of the coast of Juneau, Alaska."
Natalia: "Seriously, what the Hell is so important about some nosebleed rig off the coast of Juneau for crying out loud?" Loudspeaker blares in the distance "Look honey, I've got to catch my next flight. Can we do this later?"
Sergei: "Okay, but the next trime you speak to her, I need you to ask her if she can schedule a meet and greet with her uncle at the next banquet at the yacht club. I'll buy him and his wife a damned table. Seriously, though. We need to get him on board before the Governor's ball."
Natalia: "OKay, okay. I'll do it. You'll be lucky if that stuck up assed hoe goes for it though. She'll want something in return, and it'll be about more than just her expensive ass nails."
Sergei: "Okay, whatever she needs, we'll pull the strings to get it done. I love you babe. Have fun in New York…"
Natalia: "Yeah. And don't go getting shithoused at the bar with Andrei and end up plowing some floozie while I'm gone either. I'll cut your fuckin' balls off, you know…"
Sergei: Sighs while pinching his nose "I know. Love you."
Natalia: "Love you too sweetie. I'll call you when I get to my hotel room."
Sergei: "Okay baby. I can't wait for you to come home next week…"
Natalia: "More like your dong can't wait for this ass next week!"
Sergei: Laughs
Natalia: "Yeah. That's what I thought. Byeeeee!" Hangs up
Sergei: Leans against the railing on the balcony and takes a deep breath of the cold and crisp night air, before heading back in.
Andrei: "Good talk?" Putting out the cigar by cutting the end off with a cigar cutter and putting the cherry into an ashtray
Sergei: "She said she'll talk to her coworker about getting Brett to sit down for a meet and greet."
Andrei: "It's important, Sergei. His boss works for the Foundation. You won't find a record of his involvement anywhere in State Department files."
Sergei: "Seriously?"
Andrei: Chuckles "They don't friggin exist! Remember?"
Sergei: "Right…"
Andrei: "If we can get a sit down with him, he can get us connected to what's under Juneau. Once we've got access to that, we can step up the next phase of
our operations."
Sergei: "And What the Hell is so important about fucking Juneau of all places anyways? I thought it was just a stupid oil rig."
Andrei: "That's not all it is Sergei… It's what's under the sea floor. The "Thingy" they uncovered when they were drilling."
Sergei: knits his brow "What in the Hell is the "Thingy"?"
Andrei: Tucks the stogie into a glass cigar case "That depends." whispers "Do you believe in aliens?"
Sergei: "I think you've had too much to drink, Uncle."
Andrei: "I kid you not."
Sergei: "Get out of here. No way!"
Andrei: "It's just rumor for now, but if it's a match for what the Old Gaurd found in Enurmino back in '25…"
Sergei: "You mean…"
Andrei: "Da."
Sergei: "So the legends are true then?"
Andrei: "No fucking joke."
Sergei: "Like," looks around then lowers his voice to a whisper "like Lizard people?"
Andrei: Looking around, puts his finger to his lips and nods
Sergei: mouths the words "Holy shit!"
Andrei: "Yeah that's what I'm saying. God Damned dinosaurs! Very rare. One of a kind."
_.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-.
Chapter I - Todd is a brave man...
Baltimore, Maryland - February, 2nd 2008
Lance Corporal Todd and Professor Chaos milled about in front of the kielbasa stand munching down some dogs with kraut, and washing it back with lemonade.
LCpl Todd: "Maaaan. A Milkor only holds 6 grenades at a time, that's like over 300+ cultists armed with HK MP5s, M4s, AK-47s, .50 Cal damn nests in the lobby, and fucking Scar heavys for the buildings security forces, not counting RPG-7s with thermobaric to take out vehicles and personnel and shit, and God damned stingers on the rooftops to take out fucking choppers in my immediate fucking AO.
How in the fuck am I supposed cum dumpster that many shitheads by myself when the shit goes down? This isn't even a standard M32A1 for fucks sake! What South African shithole did they get this piece of junk from? Literally, Bill's Discount Firearms Emporium? Do I clusterfuck their shit into a quadruple cross and let them know they're ripping each other off now? Could cause a Mexican standoff and resultant shootout. That would be convenient, or do they fuck and fill my holes with bukkake and sacrifice me first? This is fucking clown shoes man. Fucking clown shoes... Fucking cults, man."
That plaza was relatively clear of cult operative activity which was focused on the front lobby of the building across the street and a block away.
Lieutentant Dan "Gator" watched the cams feed from the van.
Lt. Gator: "Look shitbreath, you gotta keep your balls on the prize. The SCIP is the prize. Nuts to butt and keep that fucker in front of you and use him like a God damned meat shield. If he gets popped we're fucked, so don't let that shit happen or Skippy Peanut Butter Company hits us with a O5 containment clusterfuck of crunchy dildos, and the last thing we need is Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto's cyborg service from fucking Styx singing "Come Sail Away" and Shanghai our asses on the Highway to the the God Damned Danger Zone. You know what they do to cornholes there for the fuckups? "
LCpl Todd, muttering under his breath, swiveled back toward the dogs cart, as a suspicious group of college aged/military aged males strolled by, being very chalant and looking around. Professor Chaos took point and fiddle fucked his blackberry absentmindedly while looking out of his perhipherals.
Lt. Gator: "Are you listening Top Gun? Fucking Use peanut boy Downtown Charlie Brown as a God damned salami sandwich and keep those fucking cookie monsters the fuck away from the Winnebago. Also, do NOT let anything happen to him and keep him in proximity. Got it? Also, where the fuck is Gunny? He should've been back with the Dominos to throw pepperoni at this motherfucker 5 minutes ago..."
LCpl Todd: "Just gotta ask, Maverick...err. Gator. Why in the living fuck do we keep using Sesame Street lingo?"
Lt. Gator: "Because the sick motherfuckers plow kids and post it to the deep web on a God damned website called motherfucking Sesame Street. Weren't you at the brief?"
LCpl Todd: "I Was, but I had to take a shit for like 5 minutes, so I guess I missed that part..."
Lt. Gator: "God damn it, Lance. Eat some motherfucking peanut butter crackers from the vending machine next time. It'll make you fucking constipated so you don't have to blow ass during God damned brief."
Gunny Wilson: "Boy, the fuck is wrong with yo' ass? Keep that Cookie Monster Lord summoning muthafucka the fuck away from my camper! The last thing I need is for Charlie Brown's cock holster to barf up a God damned queef spell with some Wizard shit on it during my mothafucking engagement, and end up pissing off Skippy and Jif management enough to pop us with God damned orbital bombardment. Ask that piece of cultist pedophile bait if this is where he saw himself being at the age of twenty six."
Professor Chaos: "Just another day, living the fucking dream, Sir. Seriously though, This is fucked up."
Gunny Wilson: "I swear, if Otis Spunkmeyer goes kamikaze with the Sesame Street Brigade, the God Damned Cookie Monster and Oscar the Grouch murder hobo legion lurking in the shadows of every storefront will start to go apeshit-. Mothafucka, are you listening, Gator? Tell Terminal Lance to get his ass in gear and keep those motherfuckers away from my ride! Put salami sandwich at the front on his exfil and this shit better go fucking swimmingly. If that motherfucker cum guzzles some motherfucking lead monster sperm on my watch, Corpsman will not be able to patch his bitch ass up in time, and it will be Hell on Earth when the shit stain bukkake brigade gets their way. Here's your motherfucking pizza, you fairy asswipe. Don't touch my Dr. Pepper..." He said taking a fat slice and gobbling down most of it in one breath.
Corpsman Bill: "Damn, Gunny. That was sexy! Here's your fucking bones for the pie, that's two Dubs and some coins, aaaand what in the flying fuck is Yui Hirasawa doing crossing my God Damned Street again? That's the third time in the past twenty minutes. Seriously, what the fuck is that shit? That better be a motherfucking Gibson Les Paul Sunburst in that God Damned Guitar case on her back and not a fucking cache of P-90s. Scoping that fucking loli, and she's got Azunyan-Chan with the God damned violin case, wait, correction, that's a fucking cello case, and they're lugging that shit to what I can only assume isn't Mugi's grandma's house. Looks like they've been pulling music and concert cases out of that minivan in front of the plaza, and parked it directly across the street from Shitbag Central. "
Corpsman Bill: "I swear to fucking Jesus, if Mugi shows up next with a motherfucking canvas wrapped tube slung over her shoulder, I'm going to assume it's a stinger launcher and not a fucking digeridoo. They didn't use a digeridoo in motherfucking Fua Fua Time, and if that's not a trio on their way to motherfucking Juliaird, and they're going all renegade Natalie Portman in Leon the Professional, I'm going to have a bad fucking time."
*Pulls the Multispec scope up to 10x*
"Checking that shit out, and it looks like Hokago Tea Time over there is up to no good. What the fuck Gator? Look at the backscatter X-ray on this shit. They're kitted out and ready to do the fucking dirty. What lolicon motherfucker called Pizza Hut to hire the three 20-30 somethings for a Lolita hit squad on our dry run?! This is bullshit. Are those bitches Triple Canopy or what? Hoes better not be motherfucking Speznas either. What in the fuck, Mugi's mean muggin the Bago. She's looking right at me. Did we get made? God Damn it. Who the fuck are they? Are they Langley?
*'Mugi' discretely flips him off where only he can see it*
Corpsman Bill: "Motherfucker... That fucking does it!"
Gunny Wilson: "Oh yeah. They're here to party, Bill."
_.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-.
Chapter II - Light Music Club Isn't fucking Around
Baltimore, Maryland - February, 2nd 2008
After flipping off Corpsman Bill, Eight flung her hair back, she ties it in a ponytail, and turns to walk back across the street.
Number 8: "Can you hear me fuck boy? That's cute with the K-on bit, you fucking lolicon scumbag motherfucker. Yo Six, you hear this fuckwad?"
Number 6: "Yep, dumb motherfucker forgot about the CrossCom uplink with Cent. You're on a hot mic with local AO dickbreath, the rest of your team is solid."
Corpsman Bill: "Awe fuck me running", Bill muttered.
Number 8: "You ready to do this shit, or are you just going to be oogling us through your pervert scope with your dick in your hand, cough, Fag."
Lt. Gator: "Now, now, ladies. Please contain your orgasms and homicidal ideations. We're all on the same team here."
Number 6: "Eat a dick, Lieutenant"
Number 5: "Six, knock it off. Let's play nice with fuckboy brigade and get this fucking show on the road. Culty asswipes are crawling all over the fucking place here. Read?"
Number 6: "Copy that, 5."
Number 5: "Good. And for the record, Corpsman, your knowledge of K-On is fucking uncanny. Do you wear school girl dresses in your mom's basement?"
Corpsman Bill: "God damn it, I don't have to take this shit…."
Number 5: "Whatever weeb. Anyways, here's a SITREP. Something pissed off that cult leader dickhead Otis Spunkmeyer aka Russel, and all of those Oscar the Grouch motherfuckers are looking out for someone big to show up. Looks like they're expecting VIPs. You know what that means?"
Lt. Gator: "What's that, Five?"
Number 5: "It means, Lieutenant, that the fucking cookie monster fuckwad brigade is going to be distracted for the next 13 minutes, and those child sacrificing cultist dickbreaths will be looking to brown nose to make that fucker Russel happy. Seven, you see anything pretty from your nest?"
Number 7/Overwatch: "Negative, Five. Looks like the Sesame Street convention is waiting around with their dicks in their hands for the moment."
Number 5: "Copy that. Look, Gator. You see that corner office on the 17th floor? That's where shit weasel extraordinaire is supposed to have the meet with whoever is showing up. We can't get a good read on audio because the motherfucker has white noise on the windows. Some culty garbage metal band we never fucking heard of. Laser mics aren't going to do shit for now. We need to find a way to get ears inside that room, and three quote unquote 'high school girls' aren't about to get fucking railed by fucking nasty walking into that fucking heathen's nest. Got any bright ideas?"
Lt. Gator: "Can you have someone from cent do a brush pass with a listening device?"
Number 5: "Got motherfuckers from cookie monster brigade already looking out for that shit. We had an informant within their perimeter security already, but he got popped in the fucking tart two hours ago. Apparently he wasn't properly indoctrinated in Serpent protocol, and got interrogated by a proselytizer. That's when he slipped up. Now that fucker Russel is keeping an eye out for interlopers and apostates. This shit is going to get a lot more difficult to get someone on the inside."
Lt. Gator: "Please tell me you've got a solution, Five…"
Number 6: "We could cause a power surge and overload that floors breakers, and kill the noise, but that would just piss that fucker off and they would hold the meet in a different room. We need that fucking window so we can pop a visual from the spider drones we have set up on the surrounding buildings."
Gunny Wilson: "What I wouldn't do for some noise cancel right now."
Number 7/Overwatch: "Yeah, no shit. We didn't deploy until about 45 minutes ago and we're late to the punch bowl. We've got 12 mins until mystery VIPs drop by, so we've got to get this shit figured out fast."
Lt. Gator: "Copy that five, we'll work on a solution, give us a minute"
LCpl Todd: "How about we send Charlie Brown aka Professor Chaos in there, Gator?"
Lt. Gator: "Negative, Lance. If those fuckers ID him it's fucking curtains. Gunny, got any bright ideas?"
Gunny Wilson: "Wait for the VIPs to show and tag one of their entourage with a listening device from across the street."
Number 5: "Can you pull that off, Gunny?"
Gunny Wilson: "No can do, Five. Will have to get danger close, and those Oscars and Cookie monsters will be swarming the VIPs on the lookout the minute they roll up."
LCpl Todd: "Well, why not tag one of the VIPs with a sticky? Overwatch, you got darts or what?"
Number 7/Overwatch: "If I don't get him on something thick, he'll feel it tag him as soon as it hits him. If they become wise, this shit cavity becomes a hornet's nest."
Lt. Gator: "What do you think, Five?"
Number 5: "It's the best option I've heard so far, so fuck it. Yeah."
Lt. Gator: "Okay, so tag one of the VIPs the minute they step out of the motorcade. If we're lucky, the greaseball fuckwad is wearing a fur coat."
Number 7/Overwatch: "Copy that. And speaking of greaseballs, there they come now. ETA 25 seconds. Looks like they're hauling ass."
Number 5: "Yeah, guessing Otis Spunkmeyer's got these motherfuckers on a tight schedule. Time it right, we only got one shot at this..."
Number 7/Overwatch: "Yeah, on it. Looks like it's the towncar... Ready for joy"
*The three vehicle motorcade pulled to a stop in front of the steps to dirtbag haven. Four armed guards hopped out of the lead and rear vehicle each, and the driver hopped out of the VIP middle vehicle and opened the door.*
Number 7/Overwatch: "Aaaaand holy motherfucking shit. Look who the fuck is popping out..."
Lt. Gator: "Oh fuck. That's Senator Calvin McCoulough. Standby..."
Gunny Wilson: "He's the Executive Director of the Weyland-Yutani fuckwad brigade, right?"
Number 7/Overwatch: "Take the fucking shot or not?"
Number 5: "Fuck that. Tag his ass!"
*There was a muffled click as the dart tagged the senator on his shoulder pad, just as his driver closed his passenger side door behind him. The dart was no bigger than a tailor's pin*
Number 7/Overwatch: "Bug's on his jacket"
Lt. Gator: "Audio confirmed. Let's see what this fucker does..."
*The senator's cell phone trilled and he pulled it out of his pocket. He stared at the screen momentarily and answered*
Senator McCoulough: "Yeah? No. Not a good time Brett, I'm about to be in a meeting with someone very important. Yes. I know, they usually do. Yeah, I know. I'll have to call you back. Yeah. Bye." He then hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket.
Number 5: "Overwatch, you get audio too?"
Number 7/Overwatch: "Confirmed, Five. Looks like dickbreath was talking to 'Brett' so and so. We'll have Cent dig in and find out who the fuck that is..."
Gunny Wilson: "And there they go."
*Four of the armed guards followed Senator McCoulough from behind, while four led the way.*
Number 6: "You know who his goons might be working for, Lieutenant?"
Lt. Gator: "They don't look like secret service or PMC, let alone your typical Guidos. Look what they're wearing. Those are wool overcoats and tweed jackets. You see that fuckwad in the front, doesn't he look familiar?"
Number 5: "I saw that same motherfucker inside of Royal's Bank in the executive lounge... What the fuck is going on?"
Command: "Five Actual. This is command."
Number 5: "Go ahead command."
Command: "Stand down."
Number 5: "What the fuck do you mean, stand down?"
Command: "Do it. That's a fucking order."
*Five mouthed the words "Fuck" without uttering a sound*
Gunny Wilson: "What the fuck, command?"
Command: "That's above your fucking paygrade, Gunnery Sergeant. Scrub the God damned OP. NOW!"
Gunny Wilson: "What the-"
*Gator held his hand up to Gunny and they exchanged glances*
Command: "What the fuck is the hold up. Scrub the fucking mission and abort, or I'll put all of your asses in Leavenworth."
Lt. Gator: "Copy that, command. Standing down. You all heard him. Party's over."
Gator and gunny exchanged glances, and Lance stared at 5. The fire in her eyes could melt steel. The audio recording was still live from Senator McCoulough's bug as they made their way to the elevators. Shortly after the doors closed, the signal cut off. Using hand signals, 5 threw up two fingers to 7 in her nest. 7 Nodded. Gator and Gunny saw this on cams and said nothing. When the elevator doors to the 17th floor opens, the audio signal from the bug cut back on...
Command: "I don't think I've made myself abundantly clear. Abort the fucking mission. Lieutenant. 5. That means kill the coms too."
Everyone shook their heads and muttered strings of epithets.
Lance yanked out his ear bud and 5 crossed her arms, looking across the street at 6.
6 threw her hands up.
Gator then threw his headset on the counter in the van. "FUCK!".
7 Spit out the Grizzly wintergreen tucked in her lip, and muttered, "Shit on a fucking biscuit..."
_.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-.
Chapter III - Is that baklava, or are you just happy to see me?
San Francisco, California - Market & Castro - June 1st, 2008
Number 5: "So there I was, at a Fetus/GWAR concert and I'm right at the barricade at the very front between sets, and there's this super HOT fucking bouncer chick, right? And she's staring right at me, and I look right at Oderus, and he looks right at me, and we both stare at this fine ass bouncer working crowd security at the front. Then, just out of nowhere, she lifts her shirt and whips her tits out and points at her mouth, and they aim the blood canon right at her and absolutely blast her with purple monster blood all over her in the face and tits. And me and Oderus look at her, then each other, and then just shrug, and man. It was fucking awesome..."
Command: "When was the last time you went to a GWAR concert, Five?"
Number 5: "It was at least back in 03'... Hold up. We've got Cookie monsters gathering in Jane Warner Plaza... You seeing this Seven?"
Number 7/Overwatch: "Copy that, five. They just hopped out of the MUNI, and looks like they're getting hot for boy pussy... Fucking dickholes..."
Command: "Okay ladies, don't get your panties in a twist. We need this to go down quietly. Do you have eyes on the package?"
Number 6: "Packages everywhere. Literally, but not the one we're looking for..."
Number 8: "Be advised, we've got Hajis and Skinnies popping out of the Muni station. Looks like they're here for more than just tail. Do you see this Command?"
Command: "Roger that, Eight. Keep it tight and don't let them out of your sight. Five, I want a danger close tail on those fuckwads, and find out if they're here for the package."
Number 5: "Copy, Command. I'll drop a line to the West Side Story boys, and see if they can keep a visual. Just a sec... Crutchie, do you read?"
Crutchie: "Oooh, is that who I think it is? Five, Darling. You never called me back after last time... And I thought we had sooo much in common."
Number 5: "Well that was before you made out with and keestered our asset, and made him pop positive for molly on a piss test, Crutchie..."
Crutchie: *Twirls a lock of hair* Whatever, Five. And he was soooo hot to trot too. Tsssssss."
Number 6: "Doesn't Crutchie always try to bone all of our assets?"
Crutchie: "Only if they're hot enough, Six..."
Number 8: "By the way Crutchie, really digging the whole hipster/Clark Kent get up you've got going for you. Does it normally get you tagged by boner, or is that how you always dress when courting an investment banker?"
Crutchie: "Only when they're getting right off of work and hitting the club scene, Eight. Okay, I've got visual on the Skinnies. I'll have Leather Daddy run the tail from here, and we'll have Gilette and Stabby watch from their perch."
Number 6: "Tell Gilette I said Hi. Is she still dating that fucking twat from Jersey? Last time we had an engagement, she almost blew the whole damned OP over a tray of creme brulee..."
Crutchie: "Yeah, well bitch had a sweet tooth... Never get between a woman and what she's craving during a pregnancy..."
Number 7/Overwatch: "We've got a problem. Looks like the Skinnies are heading over to the deli for some falafel, and they've got company. Looks like the Greek mobsters from Kearny Street we saw last week..."
Command: "Keep it cool, ladies. The last thing we need is for one of you to get made if these fuckers start exchanging bullets. Hopefully they keep their dildos in their holsters..."
Crutchie: "Speaking of dildos, when's the last time you had some poon, Five? It's been what, over a year since you had that hot goth chick you were making out with at my mom's apartment? Or are you into dudes now?"
Number 5: "I don't get attached, Crutchie. I'm here for a good time, not a long time. Remember?"
Crutchie: "Okay, if you say so, but you still didn't answer my question, darling..."
Stabby: "Daddy, do you have visual? Pop a twenty in the deli and order some baklava. Find out if these fuckers are here for the package."
Leather Daddy: "If you say so, sweetie. And ooooh, good call. The baklava is to die for. You've absolutely gotta try some sometime..."
Stabby: "Be advised, Six. We've got the Sesame Street convention hopping out of the MUNI station. Looks like the perverts you warned us about on the APB."
Number 6: "Got visual, and yep. Those are the same perps."
Crutchie: "I don't want to be a party pooper, ladies, but I've got an investment banker to impress... Think you can party with Stabby and Gilette for now?"
Number 5: "Damn it, Crutchie... and by impress you mean..."
Crutchie: "Always sweetheart."
*The four suspects start heading over to the Palestinian Deli*
Number 6: "We've got a problem, looks like the Cookie Monsters already know the Greek Malacca fuckwads... Command, you seeing this?"
Command: "Affirmative, Six. Standby for further instructions. Daddy, how's the baklava looking?"
Leather Daddy: "Oooh, sweet as can be. You like shwarma, sweetie?"
Command: "Not really, Daddy. Kebabs are my thing, and usually salmon if they have it, and have decent enough tatsiki sauce."
Number 7/Overwatch: "One of the skinnies isn't looking so hot. You see the heat on him? He's burning up..."
Crutchie: "And by burning up, I'm going to assume you mean in a less than sexy way?"
Stabby: "Confirmed on the thermal, Seven. He's got a temp of over 107 .
*The Somalian youth in the leather jacket keels over to his hands and knees and starts coughing up blood*
Number 6: "Well, that's not a good sign... You seeing this command?"
Command: "Affirmative, Six. Keep a distance in case he's got ebola or some shit. Daddy? Be advised, the skinny in front of the deli is coughing up blood. Keep a good gap and follow the others when they move.
Leather Daddy: "Yes, Mommy. I thought you'd never ask."
Stabby: "Looks like the Hajis are heading across the street to the bodega next to the bakery/ice cream shop. Standby, Daddy. This could get complicated. Let's see what these fuckers are about.
Leather Daddy: "Oooh, what a co-inky-dink. My girls are getting ready for Rocky tonight. They're at Starbucks right now. Should I give them a ringy-dingy?
Gilette: "Copy that, Daddy. The more the merrier."
Number 6: "Looks like the Skinnies are on the move, and they don't seem to give a fuck about their buddies well being, they're just dragging him along..."
Number 7/Overwatch: "Yep, looks like they're heading into the plaza in front of Twin Peaks right now. Those Malacca fucks are still milling about with the Sesame Street parade."
Number 5: "Copy that. Let's keep the logistics for this shit under wraps. Dykie, Stabby, Daddy? We'll do a split push. You have your girls at Starbucks watch the Hajis, and we'll keep an eye on the Plaza. If anymore Cookie Monsters pop up out of the Muni, I'm going to get fucking heartburn."
July 2nd, 2008 - 2148 Hours
San Francisco, California - Market & Castro - June 1st, 2008
*The four Muhajadeen gatherered in front of the bodega, while the elder with the flowing beard and trucker cap walked in the front door. Sueliman lit a cigarette while Mohammed and Ismael looked at Mehmed sideways*
*Simultaneously, Dave and Richard sat in Jane Warner Plaza, reading magazines and eating sandwiches they bought moments earlier from next door to Twin Peaks.*
Sgt. Dave: "You ever get the feeling we're in the wrong line of work? I mean, with all the shit going on in the world today, we could be overseas making a difference, and instead we're walking a beat to protect a bunch of entitled liberals and hipsters..."
Pvt. Richard: "You're barking up the wrong tree with that one, Sarge. I already did my tour, and it was a steaming pile of dog shit. War is still not over. Not by a long shot. I'll take walking a beat with this crowd any time, compared to getting keestered in some Iraqi shithole mosque's basement, any day of the fucking week."
Number 5: "Be on the lookout, we've got two cops sitting in the plaza and they are completely fucking clueless to the Sesame Street brigade gathering around them."
Stabby: "Copy that, Five. They're beat cops, and they're usuals in this neck of the woods. They're not involved in policing this kind of shit..."
Leather Daddy: "Ooooh girls, looks like we got some boys from the Bin Laden fan club gathering in front of the bodega, and I think they're there to buy more than just bongs and zig zags..."
Number 6: "Copy that, Daddy. Looks like the Skinnies are walking past the Cafe and are heading down Market. The Greeks are still hanging out in front of the deli..."
Gilette: "Looks like Rip Van Wrinkle from the Muhajedeen is going to be in there for a while. Standby. Yo, Daddy. Can you get a stoner or hardcore pothead to drop in there and see what the fuck is going on inside?
Leather Daddy: "Passing Squat and Gobble right now, tailing the pirates. I'll see what I can do... Heeeeeey, Javier?"
Javier: "God damn it, dude. I told you not to call me this early. I'm not holding and the dispensary doesn't restock until Tuesday..."
Leather Daddy: "Well, see. If you could help a brother out, I've got this group from the Bin Laden fan club at the bodega bong shop around the corner from the flag, and I really need someone to drop by and give a looksie. Could you be a dear and do me a favor, just this once?"
Javier: "Yeah, yeah, Daddy-o. I'll have one of the Punk rockers from up the street drop by and get a pair of ears in there. It could be a minute though..."
Leather Daddy: "Ahoy! The sooner the better sweetie. We're running a tight ship."
Javier: "Got someone walking up the block on a parallel route right now. Should be there in a minute twenty."
Leather Daddy: "Fantastic! I'll definitely owe you one, Javi."
Javier: "Any time, Daddy-O."
*Just then, a Ford Explorer pulled up at the intersection of Market and Castro, with 20" rims and neon lights on the under carriage. "Mac Dre" was dumping out of the woofers*
Stabby: "And look who it is..."
Gilette: "Sauce boss is early today, eh?"
Stabby: "Probably about to hit the Cafe for the usual customers. If they run into the Sesame Street convention in the plaza, we could be looking at a shootout in the making..."
Number 6: "Be advised, Greeks are looking heated."
Number 5: "Don't tell me those malacca fuckwads are thinking what I think they're thinking..."
Command: "Five, Six, Seven, Eight! Do NOT engage! I repeat! Do NOT engage!"
Gilette: "Oh, Motherfucker-"
*The Greeks in front of the Palestinian deli eyeballed the Ford Explorer and reached into their coats as it rounded the corner on Castro. That's when Intratec Tec DC-9s with extended barrels and 30 round mags popped out of the windows, and it began to rain 9mm x 19mm shell casings and ball parabellum rounds.*
_.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-._.-=-.
Chapter 4 - We need more cone charges...
Hayward, California - July 6th 2008 - 0324 Hours
Mobile Task Force - Epsilon Bravo VII (The Renegades)
EB7-5: "Well that was a shitshow the other night..."
EB7-6: "Yeah, tell me about it, Five. And we got reassigned to the Scooby Squad and the Mystery Machine? Literally, how in the fuck does that happen?"
EB7-8: "Well, those coke dealers weren't playing around when those Greek kid fuckers reached for their jammies..."
EB7-7/Overwatch: "No shit. It was curtains the minute they dug in. Damned shamed about the package though, we almost had that fucker."
EB7-6: "Hey Five, you know if those cops made it? The ones in the plaza?"
EB7-5: "They were wearing standard issue kevlar. The few strays the sergeant caught to the torso tagged him in the vest, but one got him in the shoulder. The Private got one in the pelvis, so he's in ICU still. We don't know if he'll pull through."
EB7-8: "They were a game changer though, through and through. Lucky for the Sergeant, that Private was a Seal."
EB7-5: "Well, that made all the difference in that world." she said, making a wide covering arc with her extended barrel AA-12 as she knelt and held up a balled fist to Six and Eight, a 30 round drum of 12-gauge Thamauturgically enhanced cobalt slugs hung from beneath her weapon, and two more drums were in her pack, just like the rest of her 3 person fire team whom also had similar loadouts of AA-12s, each one with a secondary loadout of short barrel SCAR-Light bullpups and several 30 round magazines in their Boron-Ceramic armor's LBVs. Seven had standard issue .50 Cal tungsten carbide SLAP rounds enhanced with neutronic singularity dispersement tips at the ready, and an FN-FS2000 with lithium plasma phase differential bullets.
EB7-Command: "Good evening, Ladies..."
EB7-6: "Holy fuck, is that Gator?"
EB7-Command: "The one and only, Six."
EB7-5: "Congrats on the promotion, Captain. Glad to have you join us..."
EB7-Command: "Thanks, Five. I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but switch to your visors. You've got some tangoes up ahead and I don't think they're here for tea."
EB7-5: "Roger that. Gear up girls, this is what we signed up for. Switching to multispectral..."
Professor Chaos: "Wait for me to run point up ahead, and you three cover me. I need to see what these things are up to..."
EB7-5: "Copy that, Skippy. Just don't get your damned arms ripped off, got it?"
Professor Chaos: "Roger that, Five. I'm Oscar Mike, with Charlie..." he said, as he closed his eyes and began walking, doing his best to concentrate, craning his head from right to left. Taking a bandana out of his pouch, he tied it around his eyes so he wouldn't have any distractions...
Professor Chaos: "Be advised, I'm reading some temporal-spatial anomalies about half a click ahead."
EB7-Command: 'You can fucking see that shit, Skippy?"
Professor Chaos: "Five, now would be a damned good time to deploy a mobile Scranton Beam Projector..."
EB7-5: "Copy that, Skippy. Tripod deploying the directed energy stabilization field in ten seconds."
Ten seconds later, there was a brief temporal distortion, and the spatial fabric of the facility wavered and shimmered momentarily.
EB7-5: "Temporal-Spatial stabilization synchronized, Skippy. You're clear to proceed."
EB7-6: "Didn't Nazis used to use this place as a secret base after the war?"
EB7-Command: "Correct, Six. Those fuckers were hiding under everyone's noses for decades until OSI flushed them out in the 70's. Place has been In-OP and direlect for decades, but the Serpents Legion teamed up with what was left of the Ahnernerbe Inner Circle back in the Satanic Panic of the 80's and 90's. They've been using the place on and off since then..."
EB7-Gunny: "Lance and I will keep watch here on the surface and give you a heads up if anyone decides to drop by. As of now though, not a soul knows were here, and Higher made sure to keep it dark on signals. We're the only one's that will be in or out... Professor, don't get shanked by a fucking sorcerer now, or worse get Shanghai'ed by the damned cult. Motherfuckers will be sad if your ass gets eaten by a God damned monster, Skippy..."
Lance Corporal Todd slung the M32A1 over his torso as he slid the extra clips of .308 into the LBV on his Boron/Ceramic armor. Taking his bullpup SCAR Heavy with suppressor and Multispec scope, he gave a brief once over of his gear. Corpsman Bill did the same, as did Gunny Wilson. Each one had similar rotary grenade launchers with high explosive armor piercing 40mm grenades, and extra ordinance and munitions in their packs, including cone charges, claymores, and various utility grenades like flashbangs and thermite. Taking one last look at each other, they switched on their quantum camouflage, and their forms shimmered and disappeared to visible light spectrum. Switching to back scatter X-Ray/Multispec, they nodded to each other and made off to secure the entrances at the perimeter.
EB7-Bill: "Did you make sure to wash with hunter's soap and scent free baking soda deodorant, guys?"
EB7-Wilson: "Copy that, Corpsman. I can't even smell myself."
EB7-Todd: "Yeah, it's weird. It's like 99 degrees right now and I'm not even sweating, let alone smelling myself. At least it's not like Mississippi..."
Just then a pair of headlights could be seen rolling down towards the warehouses. The sound of Reggaton could be heard on subwoofer.
EB7-Bill: "Well boys, it looks like we've got company, and I don' think they're here for the same reason we are. Let's just hope its a drug deal or an arms sale, and let them go on their way."
An electrical company van's headlights could be seen coming from the opposite direction, and it was being followed by a repair truck with a bucket lift.
EB7-Wilson: "I Get the creeping suspicion that these cats aren't here to check the meter."
EB7-Todd: "Command, be advised. We've got activity here on the surface. Looks like gangster shit, but we've also got some utility workers on their way to the street parallel to us. What do you want us to do for now?"
EB7-Command: "I'm less worried about the gangsters, and more concerned about the utility workers. Keep an eye on them. Especially if they start snooping around.
EB7-Bill: "Copy that, Command. We'll be on the lookout."
The Escalade bumping the reggaton pulled off to a side road a few streets over, and the Utility van and bucket truck pulled the same way. More headlights could be seen as two vehicles came from the same direction as the gangsters. One was a Dodge grand caravan, and the other was a Ford F-350 XL.
EB7-Wilson: "Oh shit, this can't be good. Command, you seeing this?"
It was then that the microwave uplink to the aerial surveillance drone scrambled and cut out.
EB7-Command: "Well fuck me running, boys, but looks like the drone's feed just ate shit, and the timing of theses utility workers and gangsters is a little too convenient. Stay in the shadows. It looks like they're here for us and the girls..."
Three men in body armor with kitted out Ak-47s and NV goggles hopped out of the Escalade. Five more hopped out of the minivan, equally geared up. Two hopped out of the truck, and went around back for large metal cases and dragged them to the ground, as well as three C-Bags. A man in a white suit with a white cabana hat stepped out of the Utility Van, and lit a cigar.
Mercenary Captain: "Buenos Tardes, Patron. Es tiempo."
The man in the white, gave him one stern look and simply said, "¿Si? Bien."
The Captain pointed his AK-47 at the ground as he slapped the side of the truck twice and yelled to the men, "Vamanos puez! Andele!"
The nine men gathered around, and each one dropped to one knee, and lowered their heads.
Taking a puff of his cigar and pinching it between his fingers, the man in white outstretched his arms and stepped forward.
Man In White: "Welcome, Children of the Night! The Serpent is with us. I do hope you are all ready to do the Lord's work..."
It was at this point that the power went out for the entire grid to the whole city. All the lights and ground communications went dark in that very moment.
Man In White: "Viya con dios, Mijos."
They all rose to their feet and immediately began unloading the crates of rocket launchers and light machine guns, and ammo boxes.
EB7-Wilson: "Yeah. Guess they're not here to check the meter fellas. These aren't Mexican mafia at all... They're something else..."
EB7-Command: "Hopefully they don't see you yet..."
It was then that the Man in White walked 90 º perpendicular to physical 4th dimensional reality and winked out of existence. His men did a double take and stood there flabbergasted for at least a minute looking around until the Captain said, "Get back to work!"
EB7-Wilson: "You fucking see that shit, Gator?"
EB7-Command: "Yeeeeeah. That's NOT a good sign. Ladies, this is probably not a good time, but we've got our hands full up here. Stick to securing the objective with Professor Chaos. We've got a mess about to happen and will do our best to hold them off while we can."
EB7-5: "Yeah, we got a Temporal-Spatial distortion spike right before you told us. Well stick with Skippy. Seven, you're up here with us. All of us will stick in a five man team from here on out. Going radio dark, Command. We don't know if our COMS encryption's been burned yet.
EB7-Command: "Good call, Five. We'll head down there as soon as we get this handled. Good luck."
Wilson, Todd, and Bill, held their positions and aimed their weapons at the entourage of mercenaries.
EB7-Wilson: "Don't do a thing unless they fire at us. It's better we aren't seen and don't have to engage unless we have no other options."
The Man in White's voice echoed in Wilson's head.
Man In White: "I appreciate you demonstrating a professional courtesy of sparing my men, Gunnery Sergeant Dennis Nathaniel Wilson, and honestly you and your fireteam could have killed them all rather quickly if you were motivated enough. However, I cannot guarantee the girls success of securing the relic. You will find that its guardians can be rather- persistent. Now tell me more about the SCIP friend of yours...Professor Chaos."
EB7-Wilson: "I remember your from Peshwar. You were with the general from ISI in '03."
*His eyes widened*
"You're-"
Wilson's eyes rolled back into his head and he began twitching as he entered a fugue state and convulsed and foamed at the mouth. He fell to the ground unconscious shortly thereafter. He plopped like a ragdoll with an invisible *thud*. It was then that the Man in White began probing his memories...
EB7-Command: "Wilson! Damn it Gunny, Wake UP!"
_
To Be Continued...