Spoopy Scary

Academy 218: Why

ON THE INTERNET

@Maxx

GLHF

btw have a hint, everyone.

Theme for one of my three characters.

Academy 218: Why

DAMN IT MAXX.

WE WERE HAVING A FUN TIME.

Academy 218: Why

It was a misunderstanding, that was all. No big deal.

I'm working on my characters, give me some space to splash the pool.

Academy 218: Why

Don't worry, it wasn't. I'm the type of person that if I want to be rude to someone, I will do it blatantly with high-key shade.

@Heathen

Academy 218: Why

Speaking of extra, typing ;) can insinuate similar condescending depending on context, and I had read it as such. Pardon me if that wasn't the case.

Academy 218: Why

Cool. Though it might be accepted in one, it might not be in another. Maxx just had his input on what he thought might needed work. It's constructive criticism, all you gotta do is say thank you and think about it - because everyone here is a mature adult.

My own two cents: the resistance to psionic powers seems out of place and tacked on. ;)

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

@UrbanEvolution If you format it like this:

Is much like the feels,
collabs come and go in waves.
My chins quiver.

it's a haiku.

@BantlingBee

nigga's game is weak.
bitch got much to learn b4,
u haiku hot

get rekt m8e, cum back 2 me 1nce ur skills r HOT n HIP

proleet samureye is out

Nemesis 13- Original Universe Supervillains

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

The Dreadnaughts

---

"Without a core fighting force, they have to rely on their resources. If we want to draw them out, we must focus on their center of gravity."

Outside the door, Baron took a careful look around the motel's surroundings. The parking lot was clear, nobody was coming up the stairwell. He could hear nothing except for the rain hitting the asphalt and the distant cars - and of course, Washe's lecture just on the other side of the door. All clear. He took off the jacket of his suit, showing his black vest and white collared shirt. He swung it open and hurried inside.

"Caesar, you're leading a minimally manned team of three. I don't think it was a good idea to draw so much attention to yourselves like this," Maria's voice said. Her face was shown on a monitor on a nearby desk. Washe was seated in front of it with a headset on. The bathroom light was on, where Grit probably was.

"It being a bad idea is the idea."

"I get that you like deviating from the books, but this is ridiculous!"

"If the Hands got even a bit of a clue on how to do their homework, then they'd know the Dreadnaughts. Fucking nations hire us. Three people? Bad idea, and that's exactly the point. They're going to predict platoons, and we take advantage of them overcompensating."

Maria sighed. "You're going to face that with just three men in the operation squad and some nearby supplementary units?"

"Three men can easily slip through the cracks. The reputation of our name alone will apply pressure. As soon we execute our operations, continued applied pressure should force them out of hiding in an act of desperation. Once we do that..."

Baron smiled as he watched the two discussed back and forth over strategy. He finished Washe's explanation, "once we do that, we sneak into their OODA loop."

Washe turned around to see Baron standing there watching them. The man was apparently annoyed that he wasn't the one that got to explain his plan to the last detail. Even more annoyed that Baron was able to see into his plan. Washe turned back around and continued.

"Right... once we do that, we ease up on the pressure. Once we can predict their thought cycles, we give them a golden bridge to keep them predictable. No corners, no acts of desperation, no unpredictability."

"You don't know what they're capable of yet." Maria warned.

"We don't gotta know what they have, we just gotta know what they'd do. We can assume worst possible case scenario and make preparations for them."

"...I'll inform Belroth what we've gone over. Just don't try anything stupid."

The call ended, and Washe made a tired sigh.

"Can't believe I gotta justify myself to that broad."

Baron set his coat on a hangar and set it in the closet. He closed the doors and turned back around to face Washe. "It is her responsibility to oversee recon missions, to advise them and report intel back to command."

"You think I don't know that?" Washe grumbled. "I done her job before. I have decades of military background over most of you guys and last thing I need is someone young enough to be my daughter thinking they know better."

Baron shrugged as he paced across the room and said, "at least she is doing her job to the letter," preferring to not rile him up any further.

Washe rolled his eyes and spun his chair back around, looking intently at the scribblings on printer paper, which were covered in arrows, and x's and o's. Baron looked over his shoulder.

"So, how tactically sound do you feel our temporary cover is?" Baron asked. He was, of course, referring to the motel room they were currently occupying. He had personally talked to the owner of the facility to covertly interview his psyche, and the man seemed fairly reliable. Not the type to easily sacrifice confidentiality.

"What do you think?" Washe asked. For once, it wasn't particularly condescending, though some element of it was certainly present. "You talked to the guy. This place is nestled between NEST's HQ and the academy, and we have a clear vantage point of our assigned hotel on Providence. Any records that exist of us point there. Hands might suspect we'll be somewhere else, and honestly, the only more fuckin' predictable spot would be in the NEST building, but you can't trust anyone that sees us in the other districts to not sell us out."

"So this is the best we've got."

"Yeah. We'll go around a circuit of different places to crash just so that we don't get pin-pointed too quickly, but this is the ideal spot."

"Especially if the incarcerated Changelings receives reinforcements."

"Oh, fucking-- you know what? I don't want to get involved in that messy freak show. Un-fucking-fortunate-fucking-ly, they're the Hands' pitbull. They're not the only thing to worry about either, they still got that weapon."

"PR-1?"

"Both him and some of the Changelings are being held. Bust out the Changelings first, they can easily free the meta-weapon out of spite. Free the meta-weapon, they can easily free the Changelings, wreaking havoc all the way. Considering how PR-fuckwit helped the Changelings out, they're probably on the same side, and they'll try to break him free too."

"Assuming they're the kind of sort who cares about paying off their debts."

"Assuming they're the kind of sort that frees their fuckin' boys. It's not a question of if they'll care about their debts and maybe free PR-1. It's a question of if the Changelings intend on releasing their colleagues at all. All or nothing."

Baron shrugged and nodded, agreeing to Washe's argument.

"You stick to brain diseases or some shit, I'll stick to the tactics, okay?"

"Hey Barry?" A voice called from the bathroom, taking both of their attention. Washe looked back at Baron.

"Your favorite customer."

Baron sighed as walked to the bathroom door and knocked. The door immediately lurched open. Grit was holding his hand.

"Hey doc, got a remedy? I punched Jimmy a bit hard and broke some skin, don't hurt much, but--"

The door was closed.

"Oh come on!" Grit pleaded as he pushed the door back open, walking after Baron.

"I think you need to go out and get some fresh air." Baron said nonchalantly. "There's a bar nearby, I'll give you some money. Make friends, get drunk, just don't say anything about us. Loose lips sink ships."

"Uh... sweet!"

"Leave your BFR here. A gun that big draws attention, and quite frankly, you already threatened a Hands contact with it. Take two glocks with you and only two. Footlocker is under the bed."

As far as Grit was concerned, the old man Washe could say whatever he wanted to about Barry. Because his counselor was his top ace. Real bros lookin' out for each other the real way. After Grit properly equipped himself, he threw a peace sign as he walked out the door and took off. Washe looked at Baron.

"You really think that fool is gonna keep his mouth shut?"

"He's a young man and a notorious private military company showed up on the news." Baron reassured. "I wouldn't be surprised if a good quarter of men his age in this city were suddenly claiming to be 'super cool Dreadnaught agents.' Hands or Changelings don't know his face like they do yours."

"And that's all your fuckin' fault for throwin' me in the spotlight, ain't it?"

"You're a much more intimidating man." Baron mused. "It wouldn't have the... same impact. But anyways, we both know we can't afford to let me be seen. And Daniel, well..." Baron said with a smile.

"Whatever. You do your spook thing and don't get caught. Everything's resting on none of us fucking up."

---

"So here I am, right?" Grit explain, leaning against the counter sitting on a stool. Around him were all sorts of people; bikers, white and blue collared works, busybodies, the ladies - some of them genuinely interested in his story, others, either staring in disbelief or unimpressed with him, all holed up in this dive bar on the Crystal Shore boardwalk. But that didn't shake our fair Danny Grit, nay, he continued right on with his story.

"They fly me right into corrupt Venezuela with this mission, and Colombia is asked us to assassinate a man called General Hugo Armandos Carvajal Barrio. A flipping general. Old guy retired back in '11, which was when I joined, but apparently he's important enough that he's got guys backing him up. So I'm flown in, rest up and stuff, and we begin the operation."

Grit paused for a moment, with his hands held up.

"Freaking El Nino comes in!" Grit exclaimed expasperated, inciting a bout of laughter from the crowd. "At night! And I'm on the top of this pine tree which swinging back and forth, with my sniper rifle, and my eyes are wide like a deer in headlights!"

More laughter.

"I'm thinkin' to myself, who could I have possibly pissed off to deserve this? I'm on the top of this damn tree, the whole thing is bending back and forth, I'm holding on for dear life. Got this beaut called Maria on the other end worryin' about me and asking if I wanna fall back and wait out the storm. And I'm trying to aim with all this wind, and a swinging tree, while not trying to fall off. I'm sayin, 'gimme a sec, gimme a sec, I'll be right there'. Lookin' through my scope and all I see are these blurs."

He took a drink from his glass to dampen his drying mouth.

"I'm lookin' back and forth, through my scope, then my eyes, back in my scope - ain't got a spotter. Just as the tree bends over on one side, y'know, with that pause? It gave me this split second of time that I needed. I saw my general, had wind blowing in one direction, compensating, and I just pull the trigger without a second thought."

"What then, Danny?" One man asked. Button up shirt, slacks - businessman type o' guy.

"I didn't see what happened, just that there was a whole crowd on my ear-piece just carrying on like animals. They're yellin' stuff like, 'what!', 'are you kidding me!', and 'you got 'em, you got 'em!' I made the shot! I made the freaking shot of a life time!"

"Was that it?" A woman asked.

"Nah, nah, nah. Just as I begin celebrating, they shine their spotlights on me, and the next thing I know, they're peppering machine guns and stuff at me! I'm practically falling from branch to branch out of this tree with bullets as long as pencils flying past my head and shredding the tree to bits!"

Grit surely loved this story, it being one of its greatest accomplishments. Telling it brought a smile to his face from ear to ear. He looked back at the bartender and grinned.

"Refill me, buddy, come on!"

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

Maybe when they get to the bar, Danny is there lying in wait. Bragging and show-boating of course.