A man entered the office of a private contracting company. He went into the office of the CEO and sat down, a briefcase at the side of the chair. "Welcome to SSF, who do you need killed?" the CEO asked, this was all routine for him. "A country" the man replied, he put a map on the desk and pointed to a small country, "Durka Durka stan, a hot bed for jihadist activity, I want this off of the map". The CEO sat back in his chair and started laughing hysterically "Son, do you have any idea what kind of rescources we'd need to do something like that? Do you have any idea how much you would be paying?" The man simply lifted up the briefcase and opened it. The CEO's eyes bulged inside his head. "So you really are serious" he said. "We'll follow out your request" The man left without a word, leaving. The CEO picked up a phone, "Get me The B team" he said
Thomas was asleep in his blackhawk when he was woken up by an announcement on the loudspeakers, B team was to be sent to hostile territory... again. Pretty soon the rest of his team would show up and pile in, Thomas pulled out another bottle of Guiness from the ice bucket that he kept in the cockpit, drank it all in one swig, and fell back to sleep
Smith, or Agent 47 as he liked to call himself, walked away from a landing pad from his latest assassination. He did not like the partnership between the I.C.A and SSF, but it wasn't his call. A classic example why he didn't like it, was people like this drunkard, who was sleeping in this helicopter. Very unprofessional. 47 decided to teach him to stay alert 24/7. He took the ice bucket and slammed it to the ground, loudly smashing all the remaining beer.
Thomas woke with a start, "OH SHIT! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL, ARE WE UNDARH ATTACK" he yelled, he pulled one of his desert eagles out of his holsters and began firing wildly, "YOU'LL NEVER TAHKE ME ALIVE YOU BLOODY BRITISH BASHTARDS" he screamed, luckily, all of the bullets missed, except for one that grazed Agent 47's cheek. He calmed down and reached for his guiness, finding none of it. "where the in the name of holy hell did my *hic* guiness go!?!?!" he exclaimed, he looked out of the cockpit and saw Agent 47 standing in a puddle of it, his ice bucket on the ground, and all of his precious beer smashed on the ground. Thomas pointed a finger at Agent 47, "you" he said menacingly, "I *hic* will ge-*hic* ye, just you *hic* wait"
47 felt the bullet graze his cheek... He was damned lucky that the man was drunk. "Like I'd take your threats seriously when you're drunk as hell. People drinking on the job... I wonder how the hell you got hired as a pilot. I really hope I don't have to fly with dumbasses like you..."
Cyclops could have swore she felt something in her pocket, but she was way too far gone to tell for sure. the vibrations from the Triumph Thruxton reverberating through her body. She felt it three more times before finally deciding to check it out. It was actually two, but the first time she almost got her hand into her pocket when she forgot what she was doing. It was her phone, she answered it and shortly after turned around, heading back to the base. It wasn't long before she she found herself right outside the Blackhawk, she left the engine rumbling as she set the bike on it's stands and made her way into the helicopter.
Grinning ear to ear, she acknowledged the others, "Heeeyyy, whats up? I hear we're goin on a trip." It felt like it had taken her minutes to say it though she trusted she wasn't that high, and hoped it had come out at a normal speed.
Bomb shelter parties are the best parties because bomb shelter parties don't stop... until everyone is dead.
Cherokee stepped onto the black hawk, a small knife in one hand and a stake in the other. It was clear that he had been whittling on it for a while, as the piece was very thin. He slipped the knife into it's sheath, and casually chucked the wooden stake out of the helicopter and onto the ground.
"Friends, please try to compose yourselves. Fortune will not side with us if we can not side with each other." he told them simply, leaning against a side of the helicopter as he waited for the other. Now he wished he had his piece to wittle again, but actions had consequences.
Signature created by the talented Lillian Thorne!
Halo 5 Revealed!
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Originally Posted by Spec Ops: The Line
Thomas looked at the two that entered his chopper, "Welcome aboard the Thomas O'Neil express! I am NOT to be held responsible for any motion sicknees ye moight encounter on our trip" He heard the woman, who was obviously high "You sound a wee bit doozy lass, moight want to sort that out"
Cyclop's grin broke out into a full smile at his words, she couldn't help it, she responded in turn to his comment. "Nah, I'm fine, as a matter of fact, I'm great." Her hands made hands were constantly making gestures as she spoke. She pulled a small glass pipe out from her pocket and looked at the fuzzy pilot, forgetting for a moment what she was going to say instead noticing that his beard looked fuzzy. She'd have to ask about that sometime, not now though, she had a different question, she pointed the pipe at him and spoke "Will this be a non smoking flight?"
Bomb shelter parties are the best parties because bomb shelter parties don't stop... until everyone is dead.
Thomas shrugged, "Oim fine with it as long as ye can shoot straight", he looked over his shoulder and grinned, "If I'm flying this thing while drunk, I imagine you can ride while high"
"I highly doubt how well you can fly while drunk though...." 47 just nodded his head as he figured out that he would have to fly with this man. "Do me a favor. Please do not crash into a mountain and kill us all."
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote
