The Wolves News: Episode 11, the final in the Wolves saga, is now ready for reading.
'The Wolves' Abstract
This is the saga of some of the first Americans to stand up to a long-fallen corrupt superpower and empirical giant; their own nation of birth, which had soured many generations past and was now on the brink of total collapse -even more so than its dire economic status indicated to its struggling, spiritually crippled people. Episode 5 details the second big operation; cross-continent and back.
This is the saga of some of the first Americans to stand up to a long-fallen corrupt superpower and empirical giant; their own nation of birth, which had soured many generations past and was now on the brink of total collapse -even more so than its dire economic status indicated to its struggling, spiritually crippled people. Episode 5 details the second big operation; cross-continent and back.
The Wolves: Episode 5
Page 1
“ROOM! ‘TEN-HUH!” Jim roared as they all bolted upright to the position of attention against the shelves that lined the walls of the main bunker.
I stopped, caught a little off guard, and gave them all a funny look as I set foot on the concrete floor from the stairwell. Still a bit shocked by the sort of display I hadn’t seen since Boot Camp many years prior, I decided to muster up a command; “Stand easy, Wolves.”
They continued with military bearing, moving as if the Drill & Ceremonies masters had just finished inspecting them, all snapping to the position of at-ease, still deadly serious and silent.
“…What the Hell is this, guys?” I asked, half chuckling.
Jim turned to face me; facing movements all the way. “Sir, we decided that since we are a military unit now, we should act like one; proper military courtesies, sir.” His voice was rehearsed, robotic, matter-of-fact, and completely serious.
My mouth fell open slightly, wondering how to respond to it all and if they were all as serious as he seemed to be. I glanced over at Ellen and Ashley, smirking as I regarded them, thinking of my engineered Inisfreeans who, like them, were also flawless little girls with the sexiest of commando expressions and postures. I was getting so close to living in the reality of Inisfree… It was wonderful.
‘Must’a taught ‘em the old drills,’ I thought.
Ellen and Ashley looked convincing for two female non-reg’s (non-regulation personnel; civilians). Jordan and Eric did, too.
“Jim, guys, I… really appreciate this but… are you guys fuckin’ with me?” I was expecting them to be, even though we did all really respect each other enough to show such courtesies.
Marty and Eric started quietly chuckling but trying to hide it, in keeping with the spirit of the whole performance.
Jim spoke again in his neutral warrior’s voice: “Sir, no, sir.”
“…Well… if you guys are cool with it, then I guess I am, too. Just takes some getting used to, is all. …Which one of you taught our four non-reg’s the drills?”
Troy put his fist out. “Sir, I did, sir.”
‘Holy shit; Corps traditions; the fist instead of the raised-hand. Nice.’
“Well you did a damn good job, Troy.” I was still hesitant, seeing them all ‘locked-up’ against the perimeter of the rectangular room like that. “Anything else you guys wanna surprise me with?”
Jim put his fist out this time.
“Jim?”
“Sir, we discussed personalizing the unit, sir.”
“For motivation purposes? I thought we were motivated.”
Without warning, they all sounded of together: “Motivated, motivated! Downright dedicated! Oo! Ah! I wanna kill someone!”
I busted out laughing. I hadn’t heard that shit for years. “Holy shit. Looks like you taught ‘em everything, didn’t you, Troy?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Danny, one of our FMJ gurus (the movie, Full Metal Jacket) followed Troy with: “He’ll teach you everything; he’ll teach you how to pee!”
Most of the others cracked a smile or started laughing at that point, and I was no exception.
“Okay… We’ll go along with all this. Couldn’t hurt. Everyone just rest, carry on, do whatever you were doing.” I turned to Jim, “And you speak freely, Jim. Don’t worry about asking. You are the X-O.”
Jim smirked. “Like our little show there, John?”
“Yeah, it was somethin’ else, man.”
“ROOM! ‘TEN-HUH!” Jim roared as they all bolted upright to the position of attention against the shelves that lined the walls of the main bunker.
I stopped, caught a little off guard, and gave them all a funny look as I set foot on the concrete floor from the stairwell. Still a bit shocked by the sort of display I hadn’t seen since Boot Camp many years prior, I decided to muster up a command; “Stand easy, Wolves.”
They continued with military bearing, moving as if the Drill & Ceremonies masters had just finished inspecting them, all snapping to the position of at-ease, still deadly serious and silent.
“…What the Hell is this, guys?” I asked, half chuckling.
Jim turned to face me; facing movements all the way. “Sir, we decided that since we are a military unit now, we should act like one; proper military courtesies, sir.” His voice was rehearsed, robotic, matter-of-fact, and completely serious.
My mouth fell open slightly, wondering how to respond to it all and if they were all as serious as he seemed to be. I glanced over at Ellen and Ashley, smirking as I regarded them, thinking of my engineered Inisfreeans who, like them, were also flawless little girls with the sexiest of commando expressions and postures. I was getting so close to living in the reality of Inisfree… It was wonderful.
‘Must’a taught ‘em the old drills,’ I thought.
Ellen and Ashley looked convincing for two female non-reg’s (non-regulation personnel; civilians). Jordan and Eric did, too.
“Jim, guys, I… really appreciate this but… are you guys fuckin’ with me?” I was expecting them to be, even though we did all really respect each other enough to show such courtesies.
Marty and Eric started quietly chuckling but trying to hide it, in keeping with the spirit of the whole performance.
Jim spoke again in his neutral warrior’s voice: “Sir, no, sir.”
“…Well… if you guys are cool with it, then I guess I am, too. Just takes some getting used to, is all. …Which one of you taught our four non-reg’s the drills?”
Troy put his fist out. “Sir, I did, sir.”
‘Holy shit; Corps traditions; the fist instead of the raised-hand. Nice.’
“Well you did a damn good job, Troy.” I was still hesitant, seeing them all ‘locked-up’ against the perimeter of the rectangular room like that. “Anything else you guys wanna surprise me with?”
Jim put his fist out this time.
“Jim?”
“Sir, we discussed personalizing the unit, sir.”
“For motivation purposes? I thought we were motivated.”
Without warning, they all sounded of together: “Motivated, motivated! Downright dedicated! Oo! Ah! I wanna kill someone!”
I busted out laughing. I hadn’t heard that shit for years. “Holy shit. Looks like you taught ‘em everything, didn’t you, Troy?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Danny, one of our FMJ gurus (the movie, Full Metal Jacket) followed Troy with: “He’ll teach you everything; he’ll teach you how to pee!”
Most of the others cracked a smile or started laughing at that point, and I was no exception.
“Okay… We’ll go along with all this. Couldn’t hurt. Everyone just rest, carry on, do whatever you were doing.” I turned to Jim, “And you speak freely, Jim. Don’t worry about asking. You are the X-O.”
Jim smirked. “Like our little show there, John?”
“Yeah, it was somethin’ else, man.”
三千里雅園
Page 2
Me: “So what’s all this about personalizing the unit?”
“You know; just the usual shit like a unit name, a motto, badges-“
I put my hand up to cut him off there. “Jim, you know we can’t have any identification like that. We all know who’s who here, anyway.”
“Oh, I know that, but what about just one for a flag to hang in here?”
…I squinted at him, thinking. “How are you planning on making it? We can’t have any outsider know about this, and I won’t tolerate anything that looks like some drunk, blind, paraplegic asshole tripped over a needle and thread.”
Jim had the answer: “Ellen; she can sew. She was a cheerleader in high school, so it’ll be right up her alley.”
“Supply run?” I asked, asking if any of them intended on going out to buy or otherwise acquire the supplies that would be needed for such an arts & crafts project.
“Whenever the next one is, we can just add a few cheap materials to the list.”
“…Very well. There’s no way in Hell I’m gonna clear a supply run for just foo-foo shit.”
“Understood, sir,” Jim dutifully responded. I wasn’t yet comfortable being called ‘sir’, especially by him, by any means. It was their idea, though, so I decided to see how I felt about it much later on.
“What about the name and motto?”
“The Wolves: ghost merc’s from Hell.”
I chuckled again. “Nothin’ foo-foo there.”
“Fuck no... sir.”
“Okay… Put it on the flag.”
“Yes, sir!” He sounded almost happy to be using ‘sir’s again.
I walked off, laughing to myself and shaking my head. ‘That was fuckin’ cool.’ I wouldn’t normally have thought that, but a positive trip down memory lane, triggered intentionally, and by my closest war-siblings, no less? That was the definition of a happy day.
After doing some work on the one sensitive laptop we used, I leaned back in my swivel chair to stretch and noticed Ellen snap to attention again; she had been standing beside me. I laughed, “Yes?”
“Sir, permission to fuck Eric, sir.”
I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair. It took me a moment to recompose myself. I looked up at her blushing version of military bearing. “First off, it’s ‘rank, full name, requests permission to… fuck -fuckee’s name- , sir,” I corrected her military recruit syntax.
I had no idea how she was keeping from cracking up.
“Second, knock yourself out.”
She remained at attention, clearly confused, as per the look on her face; the bridge of her indescribably cute and sexy nose scrunched up ever so slightly as she tried to make sense of sometime.
“Not literally. Don’t literally knock yourself out. …We’ll get to that later. Permission granted; go have sex with Eric, operative Ellen.”
Again, she remained at attention, but this time with a very pleased and antsy look in her eyes, almost starting to bite her lower lip instinctively.
“Dismissed,” I almost rolled my eyes.
Dutifully, she had waited for that specific word before proceeding with her permission. Ellen about-faced and walked over to Eric, taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairwell to fuck outdoors.
I closed my eyes, still laughing, and put my hands over my face, “Jeeeeez. What have I gotten myself into?” I loved it. I even loved her –an Outlander female!
Me: “So what’s all this about personalizing the unit?”
“You know; just the usual shit like a unit name, a motto, badges-“
I put my hand up to cut him off there. “Jim, you know we can’t have any identification like that. We all know who’s who here, anyway.”
“Oh, I know that, but what about just one for a flag to hang in here?”
…I squinted at him, thinking. “How are you planning on making it? We can’t have any outsider know about this, and I won’t tolerate anything that looks like some drunk, blind, paraplegic asshole tripped over a needle and thread.”
Jim had the answer: “Ellen; she can sew. She was a cheerleader in high school, so it’ll be right up her alley.”
“Supply run?” I asked, asking if any of them intended on going out to buy or otherwise acquire the supplies that would be needed for such an arts & crafts project.
“Whenever the next one is, we can just add a few cheap materials to the list.”
“…Very well. There’s no way in Hell I’m gonna clear a supply run for just foo-foo shit.”
“Understood, sir,” Jim dutifully responded. I wasn’t yet comfortable being called ‘sir’, especially by him, by any means. It was their idea, though, so I decided to see how I felt about it much later on.
“What about the name and motto?”
“The Wolves: ghost merc’s from Hell.”
I chuckled again. “Nothin’ foo-foo there.”
“Fuck no... sir.”
“Okay… Put it on the flag.”
“Yes, sir!” He sounded almost happy to be using ‘sir’s again.
I walked off, laughing to myself and shaking my head. ‘That was fuckin’ cool.’ I wouldn’t normally have thought that, but a positive trip down memory lane, triggered intentionally, and by my closest war-siblings, no less? That was the definition of a happy day.
After doing some work on the one sensitive laptop we used, I leaned back in my swivel chair to stretch and noticed Ellen snap to attention again; she had been standing beside me. I laughed, “Yes?”
“Sir, permission to fuck Eric, sir.”
I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair. It took me a moment to recompose myself. I looked up at her blushing version of military bearing. “First off, it’s ‘rank, full name, requests permission to… fuck -fuckee’s name- , sir,” I corrected her military recruit syntax.
I had no idea how she was keeping from cracking up.
“Second, knock yourself out.”
She remained at attention, clearly confused, as per the look on her face; the bridge of her indescribably cute and sexy nose scrunched up ever so slightly as she tried to make sense of sometime.
“Not literally. Don’t literally knock yourself out. …We’ll get to that later. Permission granted; go have sex with Eric, operative Ellen.”
Again, she remained at attention, but this time with a very pleased and antsy look in her eyes, almost starting to bite her lower lip instinctively.
“Dismissed,” I almost rolled my eyes.
Dutifully, she had waited for that specific word before proceeding with her permission. Ellen about-faced and walked over to Eric, taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairwell to fuck outdoors.
I closed my eyes, still laughing, and put my hands over my face, “Jeeeeez. What have I gotten myself into?” I loved it. I even loved her –an Outlander female!
Page 3
The next supply run went smoothly. Ellen and Troy went to a nearby city in his pickup truck and returned with some more PVC pipe, field manuals, computer intel, a medium-sized safe, duct tape, bottled water (for explosives enhancement, as well as for backup drinking and containment supplies), bug lights, military magazines, requested CDs, and yes; the materials to make our first flag.
Everyone got in on the flag idea. Ellen took charge without complaint, citing her past experience, and assigned jobs to a few of them. It took an entire day but the result was a very professional, very menacing, storm-sized (5’x9.5’) unit flag.
We used the drill to attach it directly to the thick, concrete wall of the bunker, centered at the back of the room, six inches below the ten-foot high ceiling. Once we had finished, we all stepped back for a better look.
It was inspiring. I had to admit.
There was a lot of dreamy staring and satisfied sighing as we beheld our new flag.
It stood for so much; our lives, our struggles, our union –and re-union… It stood for everything we were and believed in. It represented our combined excellence.
I thought of Francis Scott Key and Betsy Ross, wondering if we were truly inadvertently starting our own nation, and one that would rival and even best the legendary United States. How had those colonists, farmers, and outcasts felt way back when our national flag had been conceived and first, daringly sewn? -when they were faced with challenging the only superpower in the world, as individuals, or a ragtag assortment of vagabond emigrants at best…
We had founded a new special warfare unit. Damn, we were proud of it.
The next supply run went smoothly. Ellen and Troy went to a nearby city in his pickup truck and returned with some more PVC pipe, field manuals, computer intel, a medium-sized safe, duct tape, bottled water (for explosives enhancement, as well as for backup drinking and containment supplies), bug lights, military magazines, requested CDs, and yes; the materials to make our first flag.
Everyone got in on the flag idea. Ellen took charge without complaint, citing her past experience, and assigned jobs to a few of them. It took an entire day but the result was a very professional, very menacing, storm-sized (5’x9.5’) unit flag.
We used the drill to attach it directly to the thick, concrete wall of the bunker, centered at the back of the room, six inches below the ten-foot high ceiling. Once we had finished, we all stepped back for a better look.
It was inspiring. I had to admit.
There was a lot of dreamy staring and satisfied sighing as we beheld our new flag.
It stood for so much; our lives, our struggles, our union –and re-union… It stood for everything we were and believed in. It represented our combined excellence.
I thought of Francis Scott Key and Betsy Ross, wondering if we were truly inadvertently starting our own nation, and one that would rival and even best the legendary United States. How had those colonists, farmers, and outcasts felt way back when our national flag had been conceived and first, daringly sewn? -when they were faced with challenging the only superpower in the world, as individuals, or a ragtag assortment of vagabond emigrants at best…
We had founded a new special warfare unit. Damn, we were proud of it.
Page 4
The following evening, we took the van and SUV to one of the nearby cities to celebrate. We hit the best night clubs and strip joints they had to offer, some of the guys getting piss drunk (lingering military and/or Nordic and Deutsch traditions, and so forth). With luck, none of us got separated from the group. It would have been one Hell of a long jog home.
We all got back around 0700 hours the next morning, some having bedded down various strippers and bar girls –one having bedded down the bartender-ess. The day was spent on hangover-recovery time.
To speed that process up, I ordered everyone on a nice, long run that very night. And followed their run with a briefing.
“Tomorrow morning at 0500, we depart for Chi-town, then Detroit, the Drew Carey Show’s locale,” (Cleveland) “Pittsburg, where we’ll turn around, and lastly: Minneapolis, before returning home.” I held up a map printout of the course with directions and estimated driving times for each section.
Jim passed the folder around with all the details.
“Now listen up…”
The following evening, we took the van and SUV to one of the nearby cities to celebrate. We hit the best night clubs and strip joints they had to offer, some of the guys getting piss drunk (lingering military and/or Nordic and Deutsch traditions, and so forth). With luck, none of us got separated from the group. It would have been one Hell of a long jog home.
We all got back around 0700 hours the next morning, some having bedded down various strippers and bar girls –one having bedded down the bartender-ess. The day was spent on hangover-recovery time.
To speed that process up, I ordered everyone on a nice, long run that very night. And followed their run with a briefing.
“Tomorrow morning at 0500, we depart for Chi-town, then Detroit, the Drew Carey Show’s locale,” (Cleveland) “Pittsburg, where we’ll turn around, and lastly: Minneapolis, before returning home.” I held up a map printout of the course with directions and estimated driving times for each section.
Jim passed the folder around with all the details.
“Now listen up…”
Page 5
“Our mission is going to be one of the toughest ones we face. There are more than a dozen key targets along with just under 50 highly influential secondary targets. Each of which must be either sniper or silenced from close range while in their homes. Many of the targets have 24-7 hired security in addition to top-notch alarm systems. Besides this, we will be covering a total of 3,200 miles round-trip.”
I watched as they tried to maintain their bearing while being hit with such an overwhelming mission. Many of them went wide-eyed as I told them the mileage.
“Because of the duration and complexity of this mission, you will memorize your part in each of the cities one at a time, as we proceed to each respective one.”
There were a few sighs of relief.
“This means we will burn part of the folder just before each city. What we have is a copy to use. The original will stay here. This mission does have a dangerous downside;”
Those who were done with the folder looked up at me.
“-our path from city to city. Until we turn around at Pittsburgh, it is highly likely that someone will start tracking our activity and possible that, if we move too slowly, they will be waiting for us in Pittsburgh.
Because of this risk, we will be resting before we hit Chicago, and then moving as fast as possible and without breaks to Pittsburgh. By the time a path is realized, we must already be on our way back.
Study only your job in Chicago tonight. Each city will require simultaneous team action, miles apart from each other. …Any questions?”
There were none. The room was silent. I nodded to Jim.
They all snapped to attention but remained silent.
I eyed them one by one for any signs of doubt. ‘…None. Good.’ “Dismissed.”
They all about-faced and got ready to bag (sleep), keeping the folder I’d given them.
I knew we were all looking forward to the challenge; real ones (challenges) are so few and far between after you leave the military.
The night passed just as all the others had; quiet and cool, deep below the surface in our fairly cramped, supply packed bunker, with lots of respectfully muffled sucking, fucking, and cumming.
“Our mission is going to be one of the toughest ones we face. There are more than a dozen key targets along with just under 50 highly influential secondary targets. Each of which must be either sniper or silenced from close range while in their homes. Many of the targets have 24-7 hired security in addition to top-notch alarm systems. Besides this, we will be covering a total of 3,200 miles round-trip.”
I watched as they tried to maintain their bearing while being hit with such an overwhelming mission. Many of them went wide-eyed as I told them the mileage.
“Because of the duration and complexity of this mission, you will memorize your part in each of the cities one at a time, as we proceed to each respective one.”
There were a few sighs of relief.
“This means we will burn part of the folder just before each city. What we have is a copy to use. The original will stay here. This mission does have a dangerous downside;”
Those who were done with the folder looked up at me.
“-our path from city to city. Until we turn around at Pittsburgh, it is highly likely that someone will start tracking our activity and possible that, if we move too slowly, they will be waiting for us in Pittsburgh.
Because of this risk, we will be resting before we hit Chicago, and then moving as fast as possible and without breaks to Pittsburgh. By the time a path is realized, we must already be on our way back.
Study only your job in Chicago tonight. Each city will require simultaneous team action, miles apart from each other. …Any questions?”
There were none. The room was silent. I nodded to Jim.
They all snapped to attention but remained silent.
I eyed them one by one for any signs of doubt. ‘…None. Good.’ “Dismissed.”
They all about-faced and got ready to bag (sleep), keeping the folder I’d given them.
I knew we were all looking forward to the challenge; real ones (challenges) are so few and far between after you leave the military.
The night passed just as all the others had; quiet and cool, deep below the surface in our fairly cramped, supply packed bunker, with lots of respectfully muffled sucking, fucking, and cumming.
Page 6
At 0440 hours, the alarm clock went off and the bunker exploded into action. Everyone grabbed their gear and threw it on, then their weapons, then the mission supplies we were taking with us. Jim barked orders as he went down the departure checklist. Within minutes, everyone was topside, adrenalin pumping, preparing the vehicles.
I downed the last of a PowerBar I’d been working on as I suited up and double-checked the safes and traps on my way out. The instant I hopped up into the van and shut the door, both commando-packed vehicles accelerated away from the bunker, kicking up dust and bits of gravel as we raced to the ranch exit.
In no time at all, we had turned off onto the farm road leading to Highway 10. 10 took us to Highway 94, and 94; the rest of the way –through North Dakota, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, to our first target group in Chicago.
After the 1,050 mile journey, we arrived at a motel on the outskirts of Evanston, a suburb of Chicago, at 2230 hours –a good 17.5 hours after our bright & early 0500 departure.
Marty paid for a double-bed room while we waited in the vehicles, patiently as always. I looked out the van’s passenger-side window at the nearly deserted highway. Something about it calmed and soothed me, and I caught myself staring a moment later.
Marty promptly returned with the keys to the room –first floor, as always; for the speediest access and egress; a necessity, considering how much gear we tended to carry.
At 0440 hours, the alarm clock went off and the bunker exploded into action. Everyone grabbed their gear and threw it on, then their weapons, then the mission supplies we were taking with us. Jim barked orders as he went down the departure checklist. Within minutes, everyone was topside, adrenalin pumping, preparing the vehicles.
I downed the last of a PowerBar I’d been working on as I suited up and double-checked the safes and traps on my way out. The instant I hopped up into the van and shut the door, both commando-packed vehicles accelerated away from the bunker, kicking up dust and bits of gravel as we raced to the ranch exit.
In no time at all, we had turned off onto the farm road leading to Highway 10. 10 took us to Highway 94, and 94; the rest of the way –through North Dakota, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, to our first target group in Chicago.
After the 1,050 mile journey, we arrived at a motel on the outskirts of Evanston, a suburb of Chicago, at 2230 hours –a good 17.5 hours after our bright & early 0500 departure.
Marty paid for a double-bed room while we waited in the vehicles, patiently as always. I looked out the van’s passenger-side window at the nearly deserted highway. Something about it calmed and soothed me, and I caught myself staring a moment later.
Marty promptly returned with the keys to the room –first floor, as always; for the speediest access and egress; a necessity, considering how much gear we tended to carry.
Page 7
Opening the driver-side door to the van, he smiled comically to us, “Hey, kids,” amidst his tired countenance. “Got us a room.”
I hand-signed to Russell and Jim in the SUV two parking spaces over from us; ‘wait here’. They nodded, and I turned to face my group in the back of the van. “Five groups of three, every five mikes. One group comes in with all of our shit. Solid?”
They all nodded.
Jacob and Eric were closest to the back doors, so they got out and accompanied Marty inside. Five mikes later, Ellen, Ashley, and Michael walked over. At 10 mikes, Richy, Ryan, and Danny did. Then at 15, Jordan, Troy, and Nick. At 20, Russell, Jim, and I brought up the rear, locking our vehicles, and joining everyone inside the room they had long since finished checking and ‘cleaning’. With the room’s only door locked behind the final three of us, I quietly informed them all it was “time to bag” (sleep).
A few seconds later, though still slightly packed together, the 15 of us were ‘bagging’ like champs. Ellen and Ashley, again as always, had stripped down to nothing, a guy on both sides of them, balls deep. Most of us enjoyed the floor that night. It was good for muscle alignment, anyway.
Opening the driver-side door to the van, he smiled comically to us, “Hey, kids,” amidst his tired countenance. “Got us a room.”
I hand-signed to Russell and Jim in the SUV two parking spaces over from us; ‘wait here’. They nodded, and I turned to face my group in the back of the van. “Five groups of three, every five mikes. One group comes in with all of our shit. Solid?”
They all nodded.
Jacob and Eric were closest to the back doors, so they got out and accompanied Marty inside. Five mikes later, Ellen, Ashley, and Michael walked over. At 10 mikes, Richy, Ryan, and Danny did. Then at 15, Jordan, Troy, and Nick. At 20, Russell, Jim, and I brought up the rear, locking our vehicles, and joining everyone inside the room they had long since finished checking and ‘cleaning’. With the room’s only door locked behind the final three of us, I quietly informed them all it was “time to bag” (sleep).
A few seconds later, though still slightly packed together, the 15 of us were ‘bagging’ like champs. Ellen and Ashley, again as always, had stripped down to nothing, a guy on both sides of them, balls deep. Most of us enjoyed the floor that night. It was good for muscle alignment, anyway.
Page 8
0500 came soon enough.
10 minutes and we were on the road again. 10 more and we’d woofed down our breakfast orders at the least shitty restaurant alongside the highway. Yum.
As we entered Chicago city limits, I flashed the van’s emergency blinkers twice to give the SUV trailing us the ‘green light’. Russell saw the signal and turned off our road, now on his way to their group’s target locations. Danny drove us around the city’s perimeter, dropping three off at a time in residential alleyways until it was just him driving. I proceeded on foot in Jacob and Ellen’s team.
We now had four teams of three, dressed as average civilians and carrying only silenced pistols, all simultaneously closing in on our first respective targets. The kills happened in a period of minutes.
As Nick walked by his target house, starting across the street on the sidewalk, Troy walked behind the same house, keeping to the alley. Jordan knocked on the front door politely and put three rounds center-mass in their target, followed by a double-tap to the face. The guy never saw it coming. Wolves don’t give warnings. Only humans are that dumb, and we had long since evolved.
-ding dong-
The doorbell rang at another of the target houses. A teenage father (and drug dealer) answered it. Double-tap sent his soul straight to the other side –assuming he had one, that is. And, of course, assuming there is ‘another side’. Wolves didn’t care or think about such things. This was all that mattered to us. Any allegedly perfect ‘god’ would, being perfect, understand.
Jacob entered the house as quietly as he’d executed our target with the silenced pistol, and unlocked the back door for me and Eric. The target’s teenage wife got two of mine in the face and two of Eric’s in the heart as she opened her mouth to scream at our sight.
-knock knock knock-
“Hello?”
Ashley put a round in the chest of her team’s first target; a local gang’s brood leader; the commander of a large unit of their organization. It took three more rounds before he dropped to his knees, but Marty and Ryan kept things under control. Five seconds later, three of his friends were quietly gunned down, too. They’d been tripping on acid, and now the investigators would be tripping on their corpses.
Richy knocked on the door to his team’s first target house. A tired, middle-aged man –a co-leader of a local hate group– took an entire magazine of pistol rounds; gotta ‘send a message’, you know? As he hit the floor, Richy cheerfully remarked: “Jolly good day, mate.” Ellen and Michael came through the back gate and took down his family in their swimming pool; three shots each; two to the heart and one to the brain. The police never allowed ignorance to be any of our excuses for accidentally breaking their evil laws, so we now never allowed ignorance to be anyone else’s excuse for breaking the good laws.
0500 came soon enough.
10 minutes and we were on the road again. 10 more and we’d woofed down our breakfast orders at the least shitty restaurant alongside the highway. Yum.
As we entered Chicago city limits, I flashed the van’s emergency blinkers twice to give the SUV trailing us the ‘green light’. Russell saw the signal and turned off our road, now on his way to their group’s target locations. Danny drove us around the city’s perimeter, dropping three off at a time in residential alleyways until it was just him driving. I proceeded on foot in Jacob and Ellen’s team.
We now had four teams of three, dressed as average civilians and carrying only silenced pistols, all simultaneously closing in on our first respective targets. The kills happened in a period of minutes.
As Nick walked by his target house, starting across the street on the sidewalk, Troy walked behind the same house, keeping to the alley. Jordan knocked on the front door politely and put three rounds center-mass in their target, followed by a double-tap to the face. The guy never saw it coming. Wolves don’t give warnings. Only humans are that dumb, and we had long since evolved.
-ding dong-
The doorbell rang at another of the target houses. A teenage father (and drug dealer) answered it. Double-tap sent his soul straight to the other side –assuming he had one, that is. And, of course, assuming there is ‘another side’. Wolves didn’t care or think about such things. This was all that mattered to us. Any allegedly perfect ‘god’ would, being perfect, understand.
Jacob entered the house as quietly as he’d executed our target with the silenced pistol, and unlocked the back door for me and Eric. The target’s teenage wife got two of mine in the face and two of Eric’s in the heart as she opened her mouth to scream at our sight.
-knock knock knock-
“Hello?”
Ashley put a round in the chest of her team’s first target; a local gang’s brood leader; the commander of a large unit of their organization. It took three more rounds before he dropped to his knees, but Marty and Ryan kept things under control. Five seconds later, three of his friends were quietly gunned down, too. They’d been tripping on acid, and now the investigators would be tripping on their corpses.
Richy knocked on the door to his team’s first target house. A tired, middle-aged man –a co-leader of a local hate group– took an entire magazine of pistol rounds; gotta ‘send a message’, you know? As he hit the floor, Richy cheerfully remarked: “Jolly good day, mate.” Ellen and Michael came through the back gate and took down his family in their swimming pool; three shots each; two to the heart and one to the brain. The police never allowed ignorance to be any of our excuses for accidentally breaking their evil laws, so we now never allowed ignorance to be anyone else’s excuse for breaking the good laws.
Page 9
After each time rapidly searched their target house, wearing balaclavas and Nitrile gloves the whole time, we were picked up by our two patrolling vehicles at the preselected residential intersections; our balaclavas rolled back up into beanies, our gloves removed, and our silenced pistols hidden back in the folds of our relaxed clothing.
15 minutes had passed, 12 people had been killed. We immediately proceeded to Detroit, knowing the bodies of our first round of evildoers wouldn’t be discovered at the same time, or even for a week or more in some cases.
3.5 hours later we arrived, entering the city’s limits, and deploying as before; groups of three, traveling via the alleyways.
15 mikes later, 9 more were dead. 2.5 hours after that, we were entering Cleveland.
20 mikes next, 5 more primary targets had been expired. Another 20 mikes, and 22 secondary targets had joined them.
The morons were mostly drug- and crime-lords, their protection frequently drugged up enough to be as docile as their families. Security turned out to be a non-issue, as they all answered their doors in supposedly safe neighborhoods. Operating ballsily in daylight hours had its perks.
We didn’t search anymore houses. Now we had time against us, and had to ensure that our rapidity factor exceeded the path establishment factor. If anyone at all had stumbled upon the houses we had visited since we left them, the cops would be picking up the trail. If we were unlucky enough, they might even see our rather simple path; a virtually straight line from city to city.
Danny and Russell fought the urge to speed as we headed for Pittsburgh.
After each time rapidly searched their target house, wearing balaclavas and Nitrile gloves the whole time, we were picked up by our two patrolling vehicles at the preselected residential intersections; our balaclavas rolled back up into beanies, our gloves removed, and our silenced pistols hidden back in the folds of our relaxed clothing.
15 minutes had passed, 12 people had been killed. We immediately proceeded to Detroit, knowing the bodies of our first round of evildoers wouldn’t be discovered at the same time, or even for a week or more in some cases.
3.5 hours later we arrived, entering the city’s limits, and deploying as before; groups of three, traveling via the alleyways.
15 mikes later, 9 more were dead. 2.5 hours after that, we were entering Cleveland.
20 mikes next, 5 more primary targets had been expired. Another 20 mikes, and 22 secondary targets had joined them.
The morons were mostly drug- and crime-lords, their protection frequently drugged up enough to be as docile as their families. Security turned out to be a non-issue, as they all answered their doors in supposedly safe neighborhoods. Operating ballsily in daylight hours had its perks.
We didn’t search anymore houses. Now we had time against us, and had to ensure that our rapidity factor exceeded the path establishment factor. If anyone at all had stumbled upon the houses we had visited since we left them, the cops would be picking up the trail. If we were unlucky enough, they might even see our rather simple path; a virtually straight line from city to city.
Danny and Russell fought the urge to speed as we headed for Pittsburgh.
Page 10
1.6 hours and we’d arrived. Now moving in squads of six, we deployed for the fourth time.
Jim and the three other SUV passengers met up with Ashley and Ellen from the van. They were all dressed for an innocent jog; a park being nearby.
The rest from the van left to scout and engage a group of houses in a hostile neighborhood about two miles away.
Time: 1433 hours.
Simultaneously:
1.6 hours and we’d arrived. Now moving in squads of six, we deployed for the fourth time.
Jim and the three other SUV passengers met up with Ashley and Ellen from the van. They were all dressed for an innocent jog; a park being nearby.
The rest from the van left to scout and engage a group of houses in a hostile neighborhood about two miles away.
Time: 1433 hours.
Simultaneously:
Page 11
As Jim’s team hit two more houses in bordering neighborhoods, Marty’s team basically went house to house, wiping out a majority of a single neighborhood. Five of their targets were apparently at work, but the teams made use of their homes after killing off their families and visitors. Hundreds of thousands in property was shattered on the floors of a dozen homes; TVs, VCRs, computers, printers, fax machines, stereos, fine dishware. Nothing valuable that couldn’t be taken was spared. Jim even punched a hole in a painting. The message left was clear, but anonymous; this was the start of total war, no holds barred, and surgically executed by patient, intelligent, methodical personnel no differently than a clan of ninjas in feudal China would assassinate an entire village over an ancient and remembered blood feud. There would be nothing left to salvage. When we came again, all one could do is lie down and embrace Death back.
Russell picked up his four teammates. Danny and I drove around picking up the rest. We met at a fast-food drive-through without exchanging any communication. Parked side by side, we could each see the rush of excitement in all the others, though it was through tinted glass and kept internalized as best as possible, all of us being strict professionals out of adherence to our code – and necessity.
We finished our “meals” and I dumped the second-last part of the mission file folder into the dumpster; burnt to ashes with my lighter and poured into the dissolving power of my unfinished soda. The other parts had been disposed of similarly along the way, as would the final parts.
All that remained was a tally sheet; an otherwise blank piece of paper with tallies scribbled on it. Each tally represented a confirmed kill on the first row, the second: missing targets, the third: additional kills.
Together we were up to 13 of 14 primaries, 43 of 48 secondaries, and 32 additionals, with 5 missing and only 1 more primary to go at our next stop. We’d taken out the leadership of a multitude of drug- and crime-rings (namely pharmaceutical giants; the drug-rings, and the judicial system; the crime-rings), some local and some national, including most of their families, bodyguards, and a few close friends.
Our speed, surprise, and stealth had paid off. It was time to turn around.
We headed for Indianapolis; the halfway point to our last target of this mission.
As Jim’s team hit two more houses in bordering neighborhoods, Marty’s team basically went house to house, wiping out a majority of a single neighborhood. Five of their targets were apparently at work, but the teams made use of their homes after killing off their families and visitors. Hundreds of thousands in property was shattered on the floors of a dozen homes; TVs, VCRs, computers, printers, fax machines, stereos, fine dishware. Nothing valuable that couldn’t be taken was spared. Jim even punched a hole in a painting. The message left was clear, but anonymous; this was the start of total war, no holds barred, and surgically executed by patient, intelligent, methodical personnel no differently than a clan of ninjas in feudal China would assassinate an entire village over an ancient and remembered blood feud. There would be nothing left to salvage. When we came again, all one could do is lie down and embrace Death back.
Russell picked up his four teammates. Danny and I drove around picking up the rest. We met at a fast-food drive-through without exchanging any communication. Parked side by side, we could each see the rush of excitement in all the others, though it was through tinted glass and kept internalized as best as possible, all of us being strict professionals out of adherence to our code – and necessity.
We finished our “meals” and I dumped the second-last part of the mission file folder into the dumpster; burnt to ashes with my lighter and poured into the dissolving power of my unfinished soda. The other parts had been disposed of similarly along the way, as would the final parts.
All that remained was a tally sheet; an otherwise blank piece of paper with tallies scribbled on it. Each tally represented a confirmed kill on the first row, the second: missing targets, the third: additional kills.
Together we were up to 13 of 14 primaries, 43 of 48 secondaries, and 32 additionals, with 5 missing and only 1 more primary to go at our next stop. We’d taken out the leadership of a multitude of drug- and crime-rings (namely pharmaceutical giants; the drug-rings, and the judicial system; the crime-rings), some local and some national, including most of their families, bodyguards, and a few close friends.
Our speed, surprise, and stealth had paid off. It was time to turn around.
We headed for Indianapolis; the halfway point to our last target of this mission.
Page 12
6.6 hours later, we entered the city’s limits. Indianapolis honored us with a nice, two-hour, $150 lunch of foot-long subs. Any city near Chicago will have kickass sandwiches, and we, naturally, only accepted the best. ‘When in Rome.’
Another 10.8 hours of driving, guard watch rotations, and sleeping shifts brought us to our final target location: Minneapolis at 1000 hours the next day.
Everyone had slept by now, though a little uncomfortably in the two vehicles, and was ready to go again; last ‘leg’.
I wrote my findings for “The Alphabet Game” (looking for a street sign or billboard word that began with each successive letter of the alphabet) on the tally sheet I’d kept in the folder, just in case we got stopped or picked up and had our shit searched; a globally-recognized childhood family game was an excellent cover and distracter for anyone rummaging around in search of clues.
The rest of the day was spent watching the latest target house from down the street. I’d selected this one for last because it was the most challenging; high security, bodyguards, wealthy family. –And because it was on the way back. I knew we had a much better chance of hitting all the others first and in easy, quick succession, then hitting this one without any (further) complications. If anything got messy, it would be here, and I didn’t want that influencing the rest of the movements and kills.
Why attack a hard-target and risk men when you know you can knock out a dozen soft-targets and risk none?
We struck the final house that night at 0200. “Night time is the right time.”
6.6 hours later, we entered the city’s limits. Indianapolis honored us with a nice, two-hour, $150 lunch of foot-long subs. Any city near Chicago will have kickass sandwiches, and we, naturally, only accepted the best. ‘When in Rome.’
Another 10.8 hours of driving, guard watch rotations, and sleeping shifts brought us to our final target location: Minneapolis at 1000 hours the next day.
Everyone had slept by now, though a little uncomfortably in the two vehicles, and was ready to go again; last ‘leg’.
I wrote my findings for “The Alphabet Game” (looking for a street sign or billboard word that began with each successive letter of the alphabet) on the tally sheet I’d kept in the folder, just in case we got stopped or picked up and had our shit searched; a globally-recognized childhood family game was an excellent cover and distracter for anyone rummaging around in search of clues.
The rest of the day was spent watching the latest target house from down the street. I’d selected this one for last because it was the most challenging; high security, bodyguards, wealthy family. –And because it was on the way back. I knew we had a much better chance of hitting all the others first and in easy, quick succession, then hitting this one without any (further) complications. If anything got messy, it would be here, and I didn’t want that influencing the rest of the movements and kills.
Why attack a hard-target and risk men when you know you can knock out a dozen soft-targets and risk none?
We struck the final house that night at 0200. “Night time is the right time.”
Page 13
The advantages we still had were our superior numbers, our ‘clean’ and hushed weapons, and our ability to call on an array of stealth training. I hoped that would be enough.
To access the house, we exploited its major weaknesses. More of a mansion, really, it was located in one of the few wealthy neighborhoods in the city. This neighborhood was on the city’s border, and because of this, had much more untouched land around it; its own greenbelt. A small creek ran behind the rear wall of the house’s backyard. There were enough trees there to provide decent cover, and the night would do the rest.
Everyone in Russell’s SUV waited, still watching the front two vehicle gates, back in their civi’s while everyone in Danny’s van with me changed into their wetsuits and other gear.
Danny drove us to a construction site on the other side of the creek, dropped off the eight in back, and got back on the nearest major road to cruise around until needed. Meanwhile, the eight-man entry team ran down into the creek area and took cover in the undergrowth. Marty got a running start and jumped the rear wall, landing behind the separate, small pool machinery house in the large backyard. He ducked low as he peeked around either side toward the dark house, then sprinted across the side to the power box on main house’s side wall.
The other seven watched the wall from the creek, covering him; each sighting in on a different door or window. If anything moved or tried to open fire on him, it would meet a speedy sniper’s death. Suddenly, all the house’s interior and exterior lights went dark, and all seven of them, still aiming up at their various assigned access points, ran for the same rear wall Danny had conquered, jumping over it in pairs and landing as a group behind the pool machinery house.
Everyone slid their PNVGs down, flicked them to ‘on’, and set their silenced SMGs to burst.
The advantages we still had were our superior numbers, our ‘clean’ and hushed weapons, and our ability to call on an array of stealth training. I hoped that would be enough.
To access the house, we exploited its major weaknesses. More of a mansion, really, it was located in one of the few wealthy neighborhoods in the city. This neighborhood was on the city’s border, and because of this, had much more untouched land around it; its own greenbelt. A small creek ran behind the rear wall of the house’s backyard. There were enough trees there to provide decent cover, and the night would do the rest.
Everyone in Russell’s SUV waited, still watching the front two vehicle gates, back in their civi’s while everyone in Danny’s van with me changed into their wetsuits and other gear.
Danny drove us to a construction site on the other side of the creek, dropped off the eight in back, and got back on the nearest major road to cruise around until needed. Meanwhile, the eight-man entry team ran down into the creek area and took cover in the undergrowth. Marty got a running start and jumped the rear wall, landing behind the separate, small pool machinery house in the large backyard. He ducked low as he peeked around either side toward the dark house, then sprinted across the side to the power box on main house’s side wall.
The other seven watched the wall from the creek, covering him; each sighting in on a different door or window. If anything moved or tried to open fire on him, it would meet a speedy sniper’s death. Suddenly, all the house’s interior and exterior lights went dark, and all seven of them, still aiming up at their various assigned access points, ran for the same rear wall Danny had conquered, jumping over it in pairs and landing as a group behind the pool machinery house.
Everyone slid their PNVGs down, flicked them to ‘on’, and set their silenced SMGs to burst.
Page 14
Marty hand-signed for them to move in, then turned and ran to the corner of the side-wall to watch the front yard and gates. There were no windows on his wall, so he was ‘good to go’ for the time being.
Michael led the team in through the back doors, prying them open with a crowbar. Ryan and Ellen entered the room to the right and proceeded into the kitchen. At the same time, Jacob and Ashley entered the study to the left, Richy and Marty went to join Ryan and Ellen, and Michael and Eric went after Jacob and Ashley.
They all met up on either side of the lobby; the room at the front doors where the curving staircase was. Ryan quickly hand-signed everyone with him to hold position as he produced a small, dentist’s mirror from his backpack and used it to look up at the second-floor’s railing from his position around the corner in the breakfast room.
Ryan hand-signed ‘clear’ and they all strafed up the stairs, entering the central game room and parting to the left and right again.
Ryan led Richy, Marty, and Ellen to the left hallway where they each kicked n the bedroom doors and sprayed down the bodyguards who were almost finished loading their handguns to go check on the power outside.
At the same time, Jacob led Ashley, Michael, and Eric down the right hallway where they kicked n the bedroom doors and sprayed the target, his wife, and his three children down.
Without delay, they all ran back downstairs and out the back doors where they joined up with Marty and jumped back over the wall, running down through the creek to wait for extraction.
Marty hand-signed for them to move in, then turned and ran to the corner of the side-wall to watch the front yard and gates. There were no windows on his wall, so he was ‘good to go’ for the time being.
Michael led the team in through the back doors, prying them open with a crowbar. Ryan and Ellen entered the room to the right and proceeded into the kitchen. At the same time, Jacob and Ashley entered the study to the left, Richy and Marty went to join Ryan and Ellen, and Michael and Eric went after Jacob and Ashley.
They all met up on either side of the lobby; the room at the front doors where the curving staircase was. Ryan quickly hand-signed everyone with him to hold position as he produced a small, dentist’s mirror from his backpack and used it to look up at the second-floor’s railing from his position around the corner in the breakfast room.
Ryan hand-signed ‘clear’ and they all strafed up the stairs, entering the central game room and parting to the left and right again.
Ryan led Richy, Marty, and Ellen to the left hallway where they each kicked n the bedroom doors and sprayed down the bodyguards who were almost finished loading their handguns to go check on the power outside.
At the same time, Jacob led Ashley, Michael, and Eric down the right hallway where they kicked n the bedroom doors and sprayed the target, his wife, and his three children down.
Without delay, they all ran back downstairs and out the back doors where they joined up with Marty and jumped back over the wall, running down through the creek to wait for extraction.
Page 15
By the time they radioed me in the van, only 35 seconds had passed from entry to exit; jumping the wall in to jumping it back out. Marty radioed “Extract.”
I copied.
Danny turned the van around as Russell drove his four in the SUV out of the neighborhood.
We picked up the eight waiting for us at the edge of the creek and immediately left town, meeting up with Russell on the highway as the eight finished changing back into their civi’s.
We’d been lucky this time; no KIA. Five targets remained (unaccounted for, due to being at work or somewhere else when we’d struck), but we’d done one hell of a risky job. 95 confirmed kills in less than 4 days, while covering over 3,200 miles of road. I was damn proud of my team; my well-trained, battle-tested, proven time and time again “Wolf” commandos… who had become my best friends.
*Great warriors can and do have friends. It is said that “a Marine on duty has no friends”, but this is, of course, ridiculous. The point is not to let anyone pressure you or enjoy an unfair partiality. It is also taught not to get attached to things mortal, but those in control of their emotions (as opposed to those who are controlled by their emotions) can easily have as many friends, close or otherwise, as they like. They have the maturity that exempts them from the distracting emotional pains that would slow down and even end most others.
Somewhere on the way back, I radioed Jim in the SUV ahead of us. “Outstanding, Whiskies.” (Wolves) “Outstanding.” To anyone amazing enough to be eavesdropping on that particular channel in that tiny range during those two seconds, it would have sounded like trucker chatter about a well-received gift of alcohol.
Everyone was thrilled with our success and fortune. The training, exercise, and research had really paid off. The mood was much lighter the rest of the way; congratulations, high-fives, and joking.
Jim returned my compliment through his own walkie-talkie: “Outstanding, yourself, Bravo.” He alluded to an older alias’s surname of mine.
We were all happy again. Damn, it felt good.
We picked up bunk-bed materials at a Home Depot closer to our turn-off and replaced the air-mattresses with the far more respectable sleeping accommodations when we got back to the ranch, greatly increasing our walking and storage space in doing so. Our bunker was a squadbay now, and I felt right at home –along with the rest of our militarily seasoned crewmen. At last, we had the best of every corner of the military –and finally paired with the best of elite, porn-level love; the way I’d always longed for life to be, and always sensed it should and must be.
By the time they radioed me in the van, only 35 seconds had passed from entry to exit; jumping the wall in to jumping it back out. Marty radioed “Extract.”
I copied.
Danny turned the van around as Russell drove his four in the SUV out of the neighborhood.
We picked up the eight waiting for us at the edge of the creek and immediately left town, meeting up with Russell on the highway as the eight finished changing back into their civi’s.
We’d been lucky this time; no KIA. Five targets remained (unaccounted for, due to being at work or somewhere else when we’d struck), but we’d done one hell of a risky job. 95 confirmed kills in less than 4 days, while covering over 3,200 miles of road. I was damn proud of my team; my well-trained, battle-tested, proven time and time again “Wolf” commandos… who had become my best friends.
*Great warriors can and do have friends. It is said that “a Marine on duty has no friends”, but this is, of course, ridiculous. The point is not to let anyone pressure you or enjoy an unfair partiality. It is also taught not to get attached to things mortal, but those in control of their emotions (as opposed to those who are controlled by their emotions) can easily have as many friends, close or otherwise, as they like. They have the maturity that exempts them from the distracting emotional pains that would slow down and even end most others.
Somewhere on the way back, I radioed Jim in the SUV ahead of us. “Outstanding, Whiskies.” (Wolves) “Outstanding.” To anyone amazing enough to be eavesdropping on that particular channel in that tiny range during those two seconds, it would have sounded like trucker chatter about a well-received gift of alcohol.
Everyone was thrilled with our success and fortune. The training, exercise, and research had really paid off. The mood was much lighter the rest of the way; congratulations, high-fives, and joking.
Jim returned my compliment through his own walkie-talkie: “Outstanding, yourself, Bravo.” He alluded to an older alias’s surname of mine.
We were all happy again. Damn, it felt good.
We picked up bunk-bed materials at a Home Depot closer to our turn-off and replaced the air-mattresses with the far more respectable sleeping accommodations when we got back to the ranch, greatly increasing our walking and storage space in doing so. Our bunker was a squadbay now, and I felt right at home –along with the rest of our militarily seasoned crewmen. At last, we had the best of every corner of the military –and finally paired with the best of elite, porn-level love; the way I’d always longed for life to be, and always sensed it should and must be.
Page 16
We partied around a campfire, topside, that night, bringing up MREs, potato chips, and s’mores ingredients from the now much-roomier and better organized bunker. Everyone ate until they were stuffed, and slept until noon the next day. It was Heaven. Nothin’ like a victory celebration with your buddies.
*It is scarier to do nothing and watch as all your enemies get stronger than ever, torturing everyone slowly with their laws, bullying, and witch potions called legal drugs; pharmaceuticals and prescriptions. It is far LESS scary to kill, knowing they were killing you all along, and would have killed you, anyway. Knowing they were always after you any way they could, at least now you know you took some of them down, too. Keep going. It is the only way to beat the beast. It is the only true peace. We have tried every other way, believing in them each time until they crapped the bed.
We had turned the tables for ourselves, knowing from experience that the best things do not come to those who wait, but to those who seize the initiative and give up on any form of discussion, explanation, or negotiation. We were on the offensive now, as our many evil enemies had been for the first parts of our entire lives. Everyone agreed on a very primal level; it was about time.
Mission:
Part:
Status:
After I finished recording the mission information and results on the laptop, I pulled up a photo of Jade’s ID scanned and transferred to a disc way back when. I sighed as I became lost in her beauty, loving and missing her again.
-click-
I closed the image and shut the computer down.
It was time to go find her –solo.
We partied around a campfire, topside, that night, bringing up MREs, potato chips, and s’mores ingredients from the now much-roomier and better organized bunker. Everyone ate until they were stuffed, and slept until noon the next day. It was Heaven. Nothin’ like a victory celebration with your buddies.
*It is scarier to do nothing and watch as all your enemies get stronger than ever, torturing everyone slowly with their laws, bullying, and witch potions called legal drugs; pharmaceuticals and prescriptions. It is far LESS scary to kill, knowing they were killing you all along, and would have killed you, anyway. Knowing they were always after you any way they could, at least now you know you took some of them down, too. Keep going. It is the only way to beat the beast. It is the only true peace. We have tried every other way, believing in them each time until they crapped the bed.
We had turned the tables for ourselves, knowing from experience that the best things do not come to those who wait, but to those who seize the initiative and give up on any form of discussion, explanation, or negotiation. We were on the offensive now, as our many evil enemies had been for the first parts of our entire lives. Everyone agreed on a very primal level; it was about time.
Mission:
Part:
Status:
After I finished recording the mission information and results on the laptop, I pulled up a photo of Jade’s ID scanned and transferred to a disc way back when. I sighed as I became lost in her beauty, loving and missing her again.
-click-
I closed the image and shut the computer down.
It was time to go find her –solo.
Alpha Tango
Three
Completed
Three
Completed
