Fatherly Advice

The second day of the Task Forces imprisonment was about as eventful as the first. Today, the members of the 141 decided, was the day of their escape. During the night, Roach had been forced to dig a hole through the solid concrete wall to freedom. The only problem was the next morning he realized that their was no way in hell MacTavish's bulky frame could fit through the hole.

"Shite," muttered MacTavish, examining the hole. "You'll have to leave me behind."

"Not a chance in hell, sir." said Ghost, patting the Captain on the shoulder "We all go or no one goes at all."

The other members all groaned.

Ramirez's flight had arrived early so he decided he might as well get some range time in before Allen and Dunn returned. After checking in with the half-asleep range instructor, he retrieved his M9 and SCAR-H for good measure.

Quietly, he stepped up to an unoccupied lane, which in this case was all of them as the rest of the unit was enjoying it's weekend off before party today. Just like basic he brought the rifle's sights to his eye, centered the man-sized target in the front sight and pulled the trigger. Just like basic he managed to put all the rounds into the torso of the target, which he was happy about. The only problem was, Ramirez wasn't good under pressure. Which in his line of work is not a good thing.

From somewhere behind him someone let out a low whistle, Ramirez turned to see that that man was Foley.

"Sir," he said, giving the Sergeant a crisp salute, whether anyone was there or not didn't change the fact he outranked Ramirez.

Foley batted the salute away as if he were batting away a fly, "As you were." replied the Sarge, hitting the button that brought the target back to the shooter. Once again he whistled, "That's some pretty fine shooting, son. I'd like to see you shoot like that in the field."

"Well, sir.. I-" stuttered Ramirez, looking at his boots.

"You're not good under pressure.." said Foley, using his fatherly tone.

After an unhealthily long pause Ramirez said, "Yes, sir." He was almost ready for the old soldier to slap him, or berate him. Instead he got a pat on the back.

"You remind me of a soldier I once knew."

"R-really?" asked Ramirez, finally removing his gaze from the floor.

"Yeah, you remind me of Allen when he first joined." said Foley, with a smile. "So I think I know how to get you to calm down and start kicking ass."

"Allen, Allen get up." The voice kept insistently buzzing in Allen's ear, it even permeated his dreams. "Allen, wake up."

Groaning, but due to a severe headache and an overall lack of sleep, Allen sat himself up in his bed. "What time is it?" he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Dunn, fully dressed in his uniform, replied "It's about 3AM."

"You woke me up at 3AM?" shouted Allen, throwing a pillow at Dunn.

"Dude, shut up or you'll wake the whole damn house. Besides, we need to be back at base at three in the afternoon. Don't want to be late."

"I hate my life," muttered Allen trying to find his pants. "And tell me again why we're driving the whole way to Georgia?"

"You remember, I'm afraid of planes."

Finally finding his pants, Allen added "Right, next time. You'll be driving by yourself."

By the time noon had came, Ramirez was soaked with sweat. Foley had him running The Pit almost nonstop. It was good training for him to get better at taking down targets on the move but still he wasn't shooting at real people. He had no problem killing paper cutouts.

"Alright, that's enough." shouted Foley, "You did good Ramirez, you did good. Let's head out and grab a hot meal 'fore the festivities start."

"Sounds good to me." gasped Ramirez, toweling off some of the sweat.

As the duo was making their way across the parking lot a beat-up car swerved in front of them, the driver side window rolled down to reveal Allen, Dunn in the passenger seat, sleeping.

"How ya doin' Sarge?" asked the driver, he nudged Dunn but he just shrugged and rolled the other way, his back to the others.

"Real good," gesturing towards Dunn he asked "What's with him?"

"We've been on the road since 3AM, needless to say he's tired." said Allen, stepping out of the car, and giving his back a good crack. Turning back to the car he slammed the door and locked it.

"Wait, what about Dunn?" inquired Foley, about the man still dozing inside the car.

"Eh, he'll be fine." shrugged Allen.

It's official! I've actually managed to make it to the double digits! And for everyone who's reviewed I thank you! As to my proof reader, I thank you as well!

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