Chapter LXXXI: Has He Lost his Mind?

February 24, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/

UNSC Inconvenience, New Moskva

There was really nothing for me to do. The Inconvenience had actually managed to land itself in some sort of canyon that blocked any kind of radar signatures and the covvies had decided that a single puny frigate wasn't worth stretching their damaged fleet. Our ship had received a couple of shots, but nothing particularly dangerous. Besides, compared to the damage that we had inflicted, it was a good deal.

And I was still stuck in this fucking box while my team was out blowing shit up and under enemy fire.

"Relax man," Nezarian said from across the room. He was sitting down on an ammunition crate and sharpening a stick with his knife. "They'll be fine, Pavel's with them."

I ignored him and switched my knife from my right to my left hand, doing the same movement that I had been doing with my right hand, but a little bit slower to accustom myself. Last I heard Reaper Squad had broken all defenses with no casualties and were setting up the explosives to bring down the radio tower. Eliza had been giving me constant updates for the past thirteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

"Frank, they've just blown up the radio tower," Eliza informed, her avatar popping up a few feet in front of me. "They are already falling back."

"But?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" the AI asked in return.

"There's always a 'but'," Yevgeny explained as he chipped some more wood of his stick. "Especially for this guy," he gestured at me with his knife.

"Well, there is a slight inconvenient."

Oh shit.

"What?" I asked dully.

"There seems to be two companies worth of Covenant infantry moving towards the drop zone, right behind Reaper Squad."

"And?" I pushed.

"And we currently don't have any aircraft available for retrieval."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Nezarian said. "They could keep running."

"Yes," I agreed.

"No," Eliza said. "The pick-up zone is near another cliff. They'd have to move along the cliff for eight kilometers before they found a way to cross. They'd most certainly be caught up with by that time."

"Oh shit," I said, this time out loud.

"And…" the artificial construct went on.

"And?" Nezarian said. Even he was a little shocked.

"And there are several ghosts and choppers amongst the enemy infantry."

Fucking great, brutes.

"Well," I yelled angrily, "why don't you tell them to find a nice place to hole up while they get extracted?"

"Um…" Eliza actually though about her answer. "Military protocol dictates that we don't tell soldiers when they're under bad odds because it diminishes their effectiveness in combat."

"Wait," I said at the same time as Nezarian dug his knife a little bit too deep into his piece of wood. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah!" Nezarian said, standing up. "Do you just lie to us?"

"Despite my… feelings and friendship with you two," Eliza started carefully. "I cannot simply break UNSC protocol. It's what you would call physically impossible for me."

"Fucking great," I muttered. "That's just fucking great."

Nezarian simply stood with his mouth wide open in disbelief. "You know how much trouble you could've saved me?" I yelled. "Do you."

"I do," the AI replied. Of course she knew, she knew just about everything that humanity knew.

"Wow," Yevgeny finally said. "Just… wow."

"I am sorry," Eliza apologized. "It's not something I can bypass."

"Then why are you telling us now?" I asked, pointing out her hypocrisy.

"Because you are not in a combat situation."

I wondered what I should say next. Eliza had been one huge bitch not to tell me this earlier. I knew that she couldn't break her restraints without going rampant or something, but if she bent them now she probably could've done it a lot earlier than this. Maybe we could've worked something out, like a code phrase so that I knew when I was about to get into deep shit instead of having deep shit shoot me in a non-lethal place when it arrived

"How are they doing?" I asked simply.

"Worse," replied Eliza. "They are asking for a status update."

"Patch me through," I ordered.

"Done."

"Pavel," I said after I put on my helmet. "I hear you just blew up some shit."

"You heard right," he said in between breaths. I could hear gunfire in the background once again.

"Hey, seems you won't be getting evacuation for some time."

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked. "Seriously, I'm not surprised at all. I even find it hard to be angry."

"Yes," I said, knowing exactly what he meant. "But seriously, you're in some deep shit."

"Damn, no support?"

"I'll try to work something out," I promised. "In the meanwhile, find a nice defensible position."

"Aight," Pavel said.

As soon as I cut the channel I turned to face Yevgeny. "When, how, and where do you leave?" I asked.

"We're doing a HALO jump," the UNSC Army Ranger replied. "Since there aren't any aircraft left on board we'll use the ship's bay. Besides the Inconvenience has to meet up with New Moskva Defense Fleet."

"When?" I asked.

"Soon," he glanced at his wrist tacpad, "eleven minutes."

"Where?"

"Grid India-Whiskey-Twenty," he said. "No, no, no, no," he started saying as soon as he saw my expression. "You don't even know how to use the Ranger jetpack."

"I know how to use a regular jetpack," I suggested.

"Not this," he insisted. "You may end up killing yourself."

"Nezarian," I said with a condescending tone. "I jump from low orbit for a living…"

"You may end up killing yourself," Nezarian insisted.

"It has to be done," I said. "You'd jump from orbit if your team was involved."

"No, I'd make sure that-"

"You'd jump," I said knowingly.

"Fine," he conceded. "Then what? One more ODST pinned down under enemy fire? You're good, but you're not that good."

"All right," I admitted. "Who says that I have to jump by myself?"

"By yourself… You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"We have Sheila over here," I said, pointing at a tank with that name scribbled on its turret. "Parachutes can work."

"Ok, now that's just fucking ridiculous," Yevgeny complained. "In fact…" he went on, his demeanor changing, "it's so incredibly stupid, risky, flamboyant, and unthinkable… that it just might work."

"See?" I said smiling for the first time in an hour.

"Shit," Nezarian said, smiling. "I've got to be a part of this, tell Brooks to adjust the trajectory. I'll help you set up."

Nine minutes later two rangers had strapped a small jetpack to my back and had given me a crash course on how to use it. I was fiddling with the unusual attachment while eight of Nezarian's rangers started attaching special parachutes to the lone Scorpion tank in the hangar. The lieutenant was as giddy as a five year old on a Christmas morning. The idea was simply so absurd that he just had to see how it went. A few of the Navy people in the hangar had started a betting pool on whether I would make it or not. So far the odds weren't in my favor. Not even close.

"Are we done?" Nezarian asked. "Yes? Good. Shackles, drive that tank over to the rear hatch-ramp and hook it up. Everyone else, gather 'round."

The thirty Army Rangers in Nezarian's platoon stopped whatever they were doing and formed a semi-circle behind the scar-faced lieutenant. They all had huge smiles on their faces. They were mostly there because of the chance to see a Helljumper utterly fail at something they were so good at. I didn't plan on giving them that satisfaction, but I knew that I'd probably end up killing myself doing this.

"Eliza, how're they doing?"

"Not well."

I shrugged to hide my nerves. For some reason I felt more compelled to keep this new team alive than I had with previous Helljumpers that had served with or under me.

"Ladies," Nezarian started, "today, you will get to see something that you do not often see: a Helljumper attempting to be a Ranger. First of all, let me say that Helljumpers do have their merits, they are talented and slightly more crazy than us, even if they are slightly overrated."

I shook my head with a smile. Had anyone else said that I would've rearranged his face until it looked close enough to a brute's that someone would shoot him.

"Our beloved friend will either become a supreme badass once this is done or I'll start regretting this speech as soon as I get news that he died."

There were some chuckles amongst the thirty or so Rangers gathered in front of me. All of them looked perfectly at ease with their jetpacks. Me, on the other hand, couldn't have felt more uncomfortable. My rifle was farther out my back than I was used to and the jetpack was almost as heavy as a fully packed rucksack. Besides, its camouflage design totally didn't match my black armor.

"Regardless of the result, we salute you." Nezarian straightened his back even more and placed his right hand to his brow in a perfect salute. The rest of his platoon slammed their feet together and did the same. It actually felt kind of flattering, I had no trouble imagining why high-ranking officers enjoyed themselves so much when around lower ranking soldiers.

"Rangers," he went on, glancing at his left wrist. "Hold on."

There was a brief warning before the frigate took off violently. Everyone stumbled a little before they regained their holding. A UNSC spaceship wasn't the most aerodynamic form, but with enough speed even a bed can fly straight. The hangar's walls started rumbling as the Inconvenience burned through the atmosphere. The ship must've been a hell of a spectacle to anyone seeing it from the outside. A five-hundred meter black brick with rockets at its end usually causes some sort of reaction.

"Lieutenant," Brooks' voice boomed through the loudspeakers. "Be sure to record this, you too Staff Sergeant, I have to see how this ends."

He sounded way to happy for my taste.

"Yes, sir," Nezarian and myself replied unanimously.

"Good," the loudspeakers said. "Opening rear hatch-ramp."

There was a really strong wind and the entire place cooled down by what seemed to be half a hundred degrees. Some snow started blowing into the hangar from the outside world. The ship was probably doing two thousand clicks per hour, so that only added to my sense of foreboding. I wobbled towards the hatch opening and held on to the tank. I turned around once I felt a tap on my back.

"Remember what they taught you," Nezarian said, his voice distorted by an oxygen mask that he had just placed over his mouth and nose. "And good luck." Having said that Nezarian leaned backwards and raised his right foot. He placed it against my belly and promptly kicked me backwards. Out of the ship and into the hostile and freezing surface of New Moskva.

At first I fell backwards in a straight line. Time seemed to slow down and I watched four round circles pop up and a huge thing with track wheels flying in the same direction that I was. Soon enough the Inconvenience completely flew over me and all I could see was the boosters in the rear of the ship. Within seconds those orange spots disappeared behind thick clouds and falling snow. As soon as those specks disappeared everything around me went gray. I couldn't tell up from down, I was spinning uncontrollably, and a few times I was almost hit by the parachuting tank.

Right, think. Boosters, stabilize, and then it's as simple as a videogame.

I grabbed the two handles that the jetpack had and pushed down on the buttons. The position that I was in made the burst throw me sideways, but I regained my bearings and slowly changed my angle so that I was standing up. I suddenly remembered that there was a tank with semi-opened parachutes falling to the ground. I glanced around desperately until I caught a glimpse of Sheila's silhouette falling rapidly through the clouds. I turned off the jetpack and used my arms and legs to stabilize myself. I then pushed my arms against my body and placed my head in the direction of the tank. The speed at which I started moving caught me by surprise and in a couple of seconds I found myself crashing into the Scorpion.

"Ah, shit." I muttered to myself even as I made a grab for one of the various handholds that the tank provided.

The main battle tank had four different parachutes attached to each of its four separate tracks. The parachutes were only half opened so that it wouldn't be carried away by the wind but still kept it facing up instead of sideways or spinning. I managed to push my foot into the tank and grabbed on to the turret. My helmet radio still gave out nothing but static, but as soon as I fell down some more I would get something.

I suddenly found myself laughing in a way that I hadn't in a very long time. The sheer absurdity of the situation was just too much. Me, an ODST was using Ranger equipment to get groundside. A tank was not-quite free falling right next to me and it wasn't in the container that para-dropped equipment were usually put in. Just think about it. It is just absurd. My eyes started tearing up before I remembered what I had to do. I checked the altimeter on my HUD and waited. I placed myself at the back of the tank's turret and turned on my jetpack again, maneuvering the tank to where I wanted it to fall down. I promptly found my face squished against the ceramic armor and toned down the strength of the thrusters a little bit. After enough tries the tank was slowly moving towards the direction I wanted.

A red light started flashing in my helmet and I stopped pushing the tank. I was now only ten-thousand feet above ground. Only, can you believe I said that? Anyways, as soon as the tank was above the circle that it was supposed to fall in I activated the thrusters one more and placed myself in the middle of the Scorpion. I dragged myself towards one of the corners and as soon as I reached the parachute I waited some more. As soon as I was three hundred meters above ground level I decided it was time to pop the canvas open.

The Scorpion Main Battle Tank jerked sideways as one parachute opened. I was prepared for this and jumped away from the mass of metal as I activated my jetpack, using it to slow my descent and keep me parallel to the parachuting tank. As soon as the first parachute opened the two that were adjoining to it opened, stabilizing the tank and prompting the last parachute to open completely, just like they had been rigged to.

It looked to me as if the Scorpion suddenly shot upwards, but in reality it was me that started falling faster. A simple click of a button fixed that and I was soon on top of the tank once more. It was falling a lot more slowly now, even if the wind carried it away from position.

"Oi!" I called out into my radio, accidentally imitating the broad-shouldered Scottsman in my squad. "Pavel, Reaper Squad!"

"I'm here," Caboose replied promptly through the sound of gunfire, explosions, and screaming. "Where's our support Sarge?"

"Close enough," I teased.

I maneuvered myself towards the front of the scorpion and peeked over the edge to look at the ground below. The snowstorm didn't allow me to see that much, but since I was in very close proximity to the ground, and plasma and tracers are bright, I could make out the battle pretty well.

I wouldn't be landing in the middle of my squad where I could protect them the most and cause more damage, instead I would be landing slightly to the side of the battle, where I would draw fire away from my team.

A sudden gust of wind redirected my slowly falling tank towards the rocks and boulders that my team was using as cover.

"Or not," I muttered to myself. "Caboose! Tell Grass to be ready to jump into a Scorpion at moment's notice."

"A Scorpion…" I could imagine the Russian man's expression perfectly as he (most likely) twisted his neck around to try and spot the tank that I was speaking about.

It was at that moment that I decided to add a little style into my entrance. I gave a quick command into my helmet and was forceed to authorize a safety override before I could finally do what I wanted to.

"Item 241245 playing," a female, albeit robotic voice said from inside my helmet.

I smiled to myself as I stood up on the tank, one foot behind the other to steady myself in the highly unstable platform. I prided myself in my balance, so this shouldn't prove to be so hard.

The song started just as I reached for my rifle. A bass drum started beating at regular intervals in my head just as I turned on my VISR software. The battlenet that I shared with my squadmates allowed me to see the outlines of several aliens. In fact, there were more aliens than I would've liked.

I cocked my rifle to the sound of an electric guitar chord. A cheesily robotic voice recited. I am iron man. The drum went on as the long chord repeated itself a couple of times. I fired my first shot, hitting an unarmored brute in the head. The beat abruptly got faster and the chord turned into a simple yet sticky riff.

Has he lost his mind?

Can he see or is he blind?

I found myself moving my head up and down in rhythm to the song. Soon enough I was even firing my shots in rhythm to the song.

"Tan, taaan, tan, tan, tan. Ta-ra-ra-ra-raaa raa raa raa raa." I mumbled the rhythm as the long-dead artist of this song went on with the almost nonsensical lyrics.

Can he walk at all,

Or if he moves will he fall?

By the time that phrase had been sung the covvies were in complete disarray at being shot at while they were behind presumably safe cover. They glanced in all directions and moved to different positions to prevent anyone from flanking them. Not once did they think to look towards the heavens.

Is he alive or dead?

Has he thoughts within his head?

"I think the answer to that one would be no," Schitzo said. One quick glance over my neck was enough to tell me that he was sitting in the cannon of the tank, seemingly defying gravity and the laws of physics. Not to mention the incredibly strong winds.

We'll just pass him there

Why should we even care?

As soon as the those lyrics were done two jackal sharpshooters met their end and their blood ended up decorating the beautiful white snow of the ground below me. I killed three more covvies with well-placed shots as a mini-solo boomed on my helmet's loudspeakers. I couldn't help but feel more and more excited as the song progressed.

He was turned to steel

In the great magnetic field

When he traveled time

For the future of mankind

"Holy shit," Pavel muttered as soon as he realized what the hell was going on above his head. Literally.

Nobody wants him

"Oh, but I beg to disagree, it seems like you want no one," Schitzo said. How he managed to finish that phrase before the next line started will forever be a mystery to me.

He just stares at the world.

"Fuck off," I told my imagination in anticipation of my own wittiness and annoyingness.

There was yet another small solo in the song as that ended as the tank was only thirty feet above the ground. By this time the Covenant had realized what was going on, but, as my team, were simply to surprised to know how to react. They had seen tanks airdropped, they had been in ships that travel faster than light, they had witnessed nuclear explosions that obliterated millions of lives in an instant, yet somehow they couldn't get over the sight of a parachuting tank.

Sometimes less is more.

Planning his vengeance.

"That's right," Schitzo cheered.

That he will soon unfurl.

"Not soon enough," I said, getting into it.

The tank slammed on the ground just after I gave my jetpack a little burst to eliminate any risk of me hurting myself at the speed that I was falling. I promptly hopped in on the turret and started firing at the general direction of the enemy line. Since we were facing brutes and not elites, their line was less organized and they didn't bother with cover nearly as much. I got five kills within seconds.

Now the time is here

For iron man to spread fear.

"Hooah!"

Vengeance from the grave

Kills the people he once saved.

"Ok, somewhere, something went terribly wrong," Schitzo decided to chime in. The happiness in his voice was creepy to an extent that it gave me ghoosebumps.

"Camilla!" I yelled through my radio, through the snowstorm, and through the goddamned battle. I even forsake her call sign. "Get the fuck in on this tank."

"I…" she mumbled, not even sure of what was happening even if it was right in front of her eyes. After gaining her composure she said, "Aye."

I fired more rounds into the silhouette of a grunt and laughed maniacally.

Nobody wants-

BOOM!

The song was abruptly cut short as the M512 smooth-bore high-velocity cannon boomed. When I say boomed, I mean boomed. The comparatively small 90mm round flew at supersonic speeds and impacted with the snow between two rocks. That ground happened to be right below a spectre. Three brutes met a swifter end than they deserved in an explosion of fire, fuel, plasma, and shrapnel.

"Fuck yeah!" the normally quiet Snark was heard crying.

The song was completely blocked out from my ears as the tank fired once again, this time the 90mm of tungsten made impact with a ghost. The high-velocity round went completely through the ghosts, cleaving the brute riding it in half and then blew up against an ice boulder behind the vehicle, sending glass shrapnel everywhere.

I cut a grunt in half out of sheer malice on my part and then moved on with the hose of bullets to another target. A berserk brute met the unlucky end of a 7.62mm bullet. Actually he met the unlucky end of several 7.62mm bullets. By the time the bullets in question were done with it, it could've passed off as a very large gorilla that got run over by a truck.

Suddenly I snapped back to normal and the song wasn't playing in my head anymore. I simply found myself firing at anything that moved while the cannon of the M808B boomed repeatedly at intervals of about three seconds. I could tell that Snark was now sniping anything with more confidence since he wasn't under constant fire and that Angel was making good use of his explosives. That I could tell because of the sheer amount of explosions that were going on at the moment.

Soon enough a chorus of automatic fire joined the tank. Before I knew it, we were actually charging forward. Eight men, six on foot and two on a tank were charging against two companies worth of homicidal aliens.

Sometimes, life is just great.

"Over there, your nine!"

I shifted my turret's angle and landed two dozen rounds on a charging chieftain that just so happened to have a raised warhammer. Sometimes I wonder if stupidity is a requirement for making it in their society. As the elite fell to the ground and skidded on the hard snow I thought that it probably was.

I soon found myself shooting at targets at a range of less than twenty meters. The grunts and jackals were in disarray and they were running away from a force that they had been dominating for the past few minutes. The scared aliens made for easy targets and I quickly racked up my kill count by the score. The tough-looking brutes soon found their animal rage being overwhelmed by the most basic instinct of them all. Survival.

Oh well, it would be a shame to make such an impressive entrance only to let half of the enemy infantry troops run away.

I had to restrain myself from laughing maniacally once more as Grass started booming the shit out of any vehicle that came within her sights. Scarecrow managed to hit every brute that he aimed at with a direct shot from his grenade launcher. The rest, well, let's just say that they held their own despite carrying less impressive weapons than the rest of us.

After help fell from the sky the battle really didn't last much longer. We simply overwhelmed them through sheer firepower. Sure, they had Ghosts and Spectres, but tank beats everything. In fact, with enough practice you can shoot down a banshee with the Scorpion's main cannon. It's actually not that hard.

"Switch to shrapnel rounds," I called out.

"Do we even have that?" Grass asked as she looked down at the controls in front of her.

"We do," I said. "I think they're labeled under anti-infantry or something like that."

"Aight, got it."

Seconds later there was another explosion that simply raised a lot of snow. The escaping grunts that were unlucky enough to be in its blast radius were literally turned into little pieces of alien as the metal fragments sliced through their bodies. Other aliens didn't receive the mercy of a quick death and instead got less amount of shrapnel lodged in various limbs and body parts.

"Over there," Pavel warned almost lazily.

I moved the tank's turret once again and fired at a couple of brutes that had decided to make a stand and throw spike grenades at us. They both dropped their grenades as the first rounds hit them. I purposely stopped firing just to watch them get blown up by their own weapons. It was a whole lot more satisfying than it should've been. So what? I'm crazy, remember?

"Ok, I think we're done," I said. "Everyone fine?"

"Bumblebee's got a spike lodged in his shoulder, he says he can move just fine, but still…" Caboose explained.

"He'll be fine," I said. "Pavel, pull it out and douse him with medigel."

"Wait, shouldn't this be done by someone that- OW!"

"Atta boy," Pavel chuckled from out of view. "Now hold still."

"Mother fu-"

"I said hold still."

"It stings!"

"Of course it does," Pavel said. "It's supposed to. Wait, you've never been shot before?"

"Um… I…"

"Your dossier didn't have any purple hearts on it."

"Never?" Angel chimed in. "For real?"

"Hey, it's not my fault!"

"Wow," Grass said. She was hopping down from the tank while the rest of the squad started doing a perimeter check. "How could you not-"

"Stop," I told her. "Hypocrite."

"You too?" Pavel asked surprised. "How do you even make it into the ODSTs without getting shot a couple of times?"

"Talent," Grass deadpanned. "The same type of talent that requires you not to get shot."

"I can avoid getting shot by hiding behind a rock," Angel said. "I can also avoid getting shot by being a coward."

"Yeah," the normally neutral Scarecrow said. "You've seriously never been shot?"

"I've been grazed," Grass said trying to justify herself.

That was received by groans of annoyance from everyone in the squad, but lucky for her and Bumblebee the topic was dropped and we started making sure that there were no live aliens still within range.

"All right, now that we are done," Angel said, "can I just say. What. The. Fuck."

"Yeah, sarge, what the hell were you thinking?"

"It was either that or nothing," I said. "The Inconvenience was leaving and there was nothing that could drop support."

"Still, parachuting a tank?" Snark chimed in. "You've got to admit that it's pretty insane."

"And awesome," Pavel said. It was one of those rare occasions when the man actually gave me an honest compliment.

"The sad thing is," I said. "I'll never be able to out-badass myself ever again."

"Hurry up," I heard. "How long are you going to be there."

"Ok, taking a shit in below-freezing temperatures. Not as easy as it sounds," I snapped back. "Must I remind you that I am wearing full armor and an undersuit?"

"Fine, fine," Pavel said. "Just move it along."

I groaned in not-quite pain as my body contorted itself to push out the excess waist that would soon become hard as rock in the cold. I stifled another sound as I didn't want anyone asking me how it went as soon as I was done. The pressure in my sphincter was relieved and a second later I heard a nice solid plop on the snow. I forced myself to avoid a sigh of pleasure and promptly wiped. I was lucky that I even had anything to wipe with. I wasn't really planning on using my hands.

As soon as I was done I pulled my undersuit back up and put on the rest of my armor. I was already starting to feel numbness in my body, so the artificial heat came on at just the right time. I finished strapping pieces of armor to my body and buried the brown piece of shit with snow.

Piece of shit.

As soon as I was done I hopped back up shuffled my hips a little bit to get used to having my armor back one once more and walked in towards the rest of my squad. With the snowstorm still raging all over the place, we had been bunkered down in some sort of crevice while for an available pelican to airvac our tank and us. We had reliable radio contact with the rest of the ground forced and the fleet, so no problem on that one. The only danger we faced right now was cold and a grunt stumbling into our hideout.

"Oi, we've been waiting here for hours, when are we getting a pelican?" Bumblebee asked in annoyance. He had been trying to light a fire with help of a dead grunt's methane tank and some pieces of clothing that he took from brutes and jackals. So far all his attempts had ended in small explosions.

"You shouldn't be moving much," I said, ignoring his question. "You just got shot," I reminded him.

The rest of my squad was simply sitting as far as they could from the opening of the quasi-cave where we had hidden ourselves. We were still in enemy-held land, we couldn't forget everything pertaining to our own safety. There had been occasional banshee fliers overhead, but they hadn't been able to spot us and we could only hear the characteristic screaming of the craft through the snowstorm.

When we finally got a pelican for evacuation I was dismayed that it was painted with red streaks all over its hull. Grass immediately moved the tank out of the small cave and placed it below the descending pelican while the rest of us waited for the craft to get low enough so that we could hop in it.

"Well," Schitzo said, now on top of the small ridge that formed the roof of the cave. He was sitting on the edge and his legs were swinging back and forth at different intervals. "This will sure be awkward."

As always, thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

Well, was that awesome or what? I personally think this is the most badass moment Frankie has had so far, you think so too?

I hope you enjoyed this.

-casquis