Task Force 27

[thecorporation]

Task Force 27
Chapter 1: Mace

“Movement. I’ve got 10, 11, 12 total tangos exiting the cave.”
“Roger that. Looks like they’re done off loading.”
“12 tangos are entering the vehicles, that leaves...6...tangos unaccounted for.”
“I’ve four on sentry duty outside the cave, the other two must be inside.”
“Copy that, Mace. Do you want me to ‘detain’ the vehicles?”
“Negative. Let them go, we’ve got them marked.”
“Roger that. What’s next, boss?”
“We’ll let the trucks get some distance, then we’ll eliminate those sentries so I can take a closer look at those crates they unloaded.”
“I’m pretty sure I could tell you what was in them. Weapons. AKs, RPGs, ammo. We can just call in an airstrike.”
“And what would be the fun in that? Besides, I got a feeling.”
“A feeling? You’re gonna risk our lives, and this mission, based on a feeling.”
“That’s right, rookie. ‘Cause in this business, your gut is always right. Even when its wrong.”
“Rookie? I did three tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. I dropped into some of the nastiest firefights you’ve ever seen. Don’t call me rookie.”
“I just call em like I see em. Now, on my mark, you’re gonna take out Red Scarf and then White Shirt over there, and I’m gonna take out Baldy, followed by Sunglasses. Got it?”
“Roger, that, sir.”
“Ready?”
“On Target.”
“Three, two, one, fire.”


“How’s the view from up there, Rook?”
“Crystal clear, Mace. The cave entrance is just over the next rise, and you are still clear.”
“Roger that, Rookie. Let me know if anyone pokes their head out.”
“Wilco.”
“Allright, rook, I’m setting breaching charges. Keep a sharp eye for any bad guys.”
“Wilco. You sure this is a good idea?”
“No. Breaching.”

“Allright Rook. I’ve got two dead tangos, no one else in here. The cave is fairly shallow, appears to be only one main cavern. This is definitely a supply depot. We’ve got ammo, small arms, RPGs, a few Stingers. I’m gonna get some pictures and get out.”
“Roger that, Mace. Wait. Shit, shit, the trucks are coming back. Get out of there now, Mace!”
“Roger that. Maintain overwatch for three minutes, then rendevous back at the ATVs. I’m Oscar Mike.”


“Snakepit, this is Viper One, Come in Snakepit.”
“Viper One, this is Snakepit. What’s your sitrep, Mace?”
“We are taking heavy fire. I have vital, repeat vital intel. We need an immediate evac. Will move toward secondary LZ. How Copy?
“Good copy, Viper One. Helicopter is inbound.”


“Viper One, this is Dragonfly, We are orbiting LZ. Mark your position.”
“Dragonfly, Viper One copies. Popping smoke.”
“Roger, Viper One, I see your green smoke.”

“Welcome aboard sir.”
“Thank you, chief. It’s damn good to see you.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Lets get the hell out of here. We’ve got tangos hot on our tail.”
“Roger that. Let’s go home.”
“SHIT, SHIT. RPG, left side!”
“RPG, right side!”
“Multiple RPGs inbound!”
“SHIT, SHIT, SHI-”

[thecorporation]

I should mention that this Mace is not related to the original GIJOE codenamed Mace, but is an original character.
you can check out my custom Mace Figure here: http://www.hisstank.com/forum/g-i-joe-customs-finished-projects/92092-task-force-27-mace-thecorporation.html#post2118409

[thecorporation]

Chapter 2: Oso

Oso shivered slightly, then looked around to make sure no one had seen him do so. He had a reputation to uphold. He didn’t think he was shivering from the cold, though. The rain was falling at a angle, thanks to the wind, and it stung his cheeks as it landed. That was okay. He didn’t want anyone to see any tears that might be forming. He knew he had an excuse, after all, it wasn’t everyday you buried your best friend, but Ranger and Special Forces Instructors needed to maintain an image of general bad-assidness. He stayed back from the gravesite, prefering to be alone. He found he still couldn’t quite believe that Mace was dead. Killed in a helicopter crash, even one caused by RPG fire, did not sound like something that could kill Mace. Oso had always though his old team leader was invicible. And he had good reason, given all the shit they had gone through together.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen the body. The casket had been closed, no surprise there. He had seen first hand what a fiery helicopter crash could do to a body. It was hard to get that sense of closure without seeing it though. That bastard was just too stubborn to die.
He shivered again, pulling his overcoat more tightly around him. The rain masked the footsteps of whoever it was that was approaching from behind, but Oso had too finely tuned instincts to not feel the presence, not sense the eyes on his back.
“Hell of thing, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” asked Oso.
“Funerals. Never cared much for them.”
“Oh no?”
“No. Never really knew what to do at them. Always felt like half the people just wanted to be alone and the other half are probably faking it.”
“So what about this one?”
“I’m kind of enjoying this one. Not every day you get to attend your own funeral.”
“You’re a real son of bitch, you know that, Mace?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you here to apologize, or you want to recruit me for something?”
“Both. You interested?”
“What’s the deal?”
“How’d you like to attend your own funeral?”

[MLos1]

Decent enough stuff here...not terrible...watch your use of redundant phrasing...

like: "Oso had always believed his old team leader was invicible. And he had good reason to believe that, given all the shit they had gone through together."

The use of believe just comes too close together.

Spell check, too.

Also watch out for tense shifting. If you start out talking about something in the past tense, keep talking about it in the past tense.

Like I said though, decent stuff.

[thecorporation]

Chapter 3: Flea

The unmarked Crown Vic across the street was so obvious it had to be a decoy. Flea scanned further down the street. There, the business man at the bus stop looked just a little too relaxed.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, boys,” he murmured.
He would have missed the soccer mom in the cafe if the sun hadn’t glinted off her mirrored sunglasses. He gave her a closer look.
“Those are pretty heavy earrings to go jogging in, ma’am.”
They were good, he admitted to himself. Really good. But still not good enough.
“So,” he whispered, “Who do you work for?”
He’d made enough enemies over the past several years that it could be almost anyone. The North Koreans, the Iranians, and the Pakistanis all had motive and the resources, but this didn’t feel like any of them. Too elaborate, too subtle. They would just kill him. That is, if they could find him. He was too careful for that, thought. No, this had to be someone with inside information. The unmarked Crown Vic practically screamed FBI, which made Flea think it was probably the CIA. Those bastards loved screwing with the FBI. And with everyone else, for that matter.
So why were they after him? Had they decided he was no longer a valuable asset? Was this an assassination attempt? Or was it just an elaborate way of bringing him in for another job?
“Only one way to find out, I guess.”

He had managed to shake the three out front by taking his mountain “cross country” through the park, but another team had picked him up on the other side. He lost them by speeding through several alleys and backstreets, but again he had picked up a tail as he came out of the last alley. They obviously knew he would be heading toward the base and had set a screen across all possible routes to pick him up. He would have to change his tactics.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to take a sick day.”
He started heading away from the base, back into the city. He needed more information. He would try to separate the team that was currently following him and corner one of them so he could have a little chat. He cut back into an alleyway, slowing just enough to make sure they saw him enter. He sped up briefly, then stopped suddenly, jumping off the bike and hiding it behind a large dumpster in one smooth motion. He tucked himself back behind a corner in the wall of the building, and waited. No one came.
“Well, I guess that’s a good sign. If they wanted to kill me, now would be a perfect chance.”
Hanging back probably meant they just wanted to talk.
“Somebody at Langley must have a real hard-on for this James Bond shit. Now, how am I gonna get out of this alley?”
The door he was hiding next too opened when he tugged on it, and he found himself in a small stockroom of some. The interior door opened onto a corridor that looked like it led into some kind of coffee shop. He casually walked to a table and sat down, picking up a newspaper someone had left. He held it just below his gaze, so it looked like he was reading it without it blocking his view. He relaxed slightly, feeling confident he managed to give his tail the slip for now. If they weren’t planning to kill him, then they wanted to bring him in for something, probably an assassination. They could have just called him and invited him to come in, but the CIA never could resist the opportunity to screw with anyone. Well, two could play that game.
“Did you hear about that British sniper in Afghanistan?”
Flea tensed. The voice had come from behind him, but he resisted the urge to turn around.
“Killed two tangos at over a mile and half. That’s quite some shooting, huh, Flea?”
Every alarm bell in Flea’s head started ringing. Someone had a really sick sense of humor. The voice spoke again.
“Of course, stories like this always make me wonder, what about the kills they don’t tell us about? You know, the guys who go places we’re not supposed to be? I bet those guys break these records all the time.”
Flea lowered the paper resignedly, turning slowing, his hand slowly moving toward the knife in his left pocket. He stopped when he saw who the speaker was.
“I heard you were dead,” Flea said.
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” replied Mace.
“You herded me right here, didn’t you? Why all the pageantry?”
“I needed to make sure you hadn’t lost your touch. And I needed to make sure you weren’t being watched. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“I told you before, I’m happy to do the occasional job for you guys, but I’m a Marine. I’m not interested in joining the CIA.”
“I don’t work for the CIA anymore, Flea. And I think you’ll find my new gig much more interesting.”

[thecorporation]

Decent enough stuff here...not terrible...watch your use of redundant phrasing...


Thanks. I really appreciate the honest critiques. I find critiques are often better than praise. Keep 'em coming.