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05-05-2017, 11:12 PM | #11 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
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CHAPTER SEVEN
April 28, 1981, Rio Lindo, Sierra Gordo The COBRA invasion of Rio Lindo had been ludicrously easy. Landing craft, disguised as container ships, had shown up in the harbor just after midnight and had disgorged a swarm of troops and armoured vehicles. The objective was simple: Sack the capital of anything of value, starting with the billion dollars worth of gold bullion kept in the vaults of the presidential palace, the fruits of decades of Sierra Gordo's western supported kleptocracy. Resistance had been minimal, years of civil war had reduced the government's outdated military force to nearly nothing. COBRA forces had made short work of what remained of the nation's remaining obsolete tanks and and aircraft. For his part, the rebel leaders of the SGLF had suspected a double cross from the start. His revolution had taken support from COBRA for years in exchange for using Sierra Gordan territory to house a biowarfare lab and a through point for smuggling missile guidance components. That support had come in the form of weapons and funds, though. Any requests he had made to commit troops had always been refused. But now that he had finally pushed the government forces all the way back to the capital, COBRA was suddenly willing to intervene directly, offering to deliver the capital to the rebels within the week. The CIA station chief in Managua had been surprised to receive a message directly from the rebel chief of the neighbouring country. The American response had been swift, and by four PM nearly the entire JOE team had been airlifted the Rio Lindo International airport, just outside the city. The Joes, still licking their wounds from the recent assault on their headquarters, were spoiling for a fight. Cobra Commander shouted to the nearest Televiper. "What is going on?!" "Sir, Second Legion has pulled back from their postition. They report all but two of their HISS tanks have been destroyed. The Joes are advancing deeper into the city." "Cowards! I ordered them to hold!" The Commander screamed, throwing his baton down on the steps of the presidential palace where his makeshift HQ was set up. "Commander, we have what we came for!" Destro said. "But your insistence on trying to turn this into a battle will have doomed us! We are perilously close to having our escape route closed off, and for what? Because you need to make up for your incomplete victory on Staten Island? Your need for revenge will be our undoing, Commander." Cobra Commander spun to face Destro, his stance fully conveying the fury that the mirrored face mask of his battle helmet concealed. He spoke as he advanced towards him. "Destro, you..." Suddenly his way was blocked by the figure of a huge trooper. The trooper kneeled, removing his flared steel helmet and pulling down the black mask that had obscured the lower half of his face. "Commander, forgive me! But if you will allow me, I can save this operation and all of you along with it." The Commander now recognised the man as Mindbender's experimental soldier, Serpentor. Curiosity replaced his anger. "What do you have in mind, trooper?" He asked. "Give me command of what's left of the Second. I will rally them and I WILL hold long enough for you to evacuate the rest of our forces." The Commander pondered this strange experiment that knelt before him. What sort of man was this that they had created? "Very well, 'Serpentor'. Let's see if you're all that the good doctor advertised." "Yes, sir!" Serpentor shouted as he leapt to his feet. His demeanour had transformed completely. He grabbed a near by Televiper. "You're with me. Raise whoever is in command at Second Legion and tell them..." He glanced at a map of Rio Lindo on a near by table. "...tell them to pull back to the Avenida Los Santos and HOLD. Help is on the way." He pointed to a passing trooper. "You! Gather every antitank weapon you can find and have them in a truck right here in five minutes." The intersection of the Avenida Los Santos and Radial Marco Gomez opened into a wide square, in the center of which stood a statue of Seńor Gomez himself. A slight man, if the statue was accurate, wearing a suit and Panama hat. Scrawled across its bronze chest were the words "¡LIBERTAD!" in white paint. Serpentor had no idea who Marco Gomez had been, but the steps at the base of his monument would serve his purpose. He stood on the highest step and looked out over the assembled remnant of the Second Legion. "Men!" He shouted. "I have been entrusted with the task of leading you in what you might consider a suicide mission. I do not believe in suicide, and I do not spend the lives of my men freely. This is a holding action. And hold we will! Some of you will fall here today. But those who give their live do so in service to the greater ideal to which we have all pledged our lives. We will hold, and our dream of a better world will live! Victory! Victory and glory!" He thrust his RPK over his head. "Victory for COBRA!" "Cobra!" His assembled men shouted in unison. "Cobra!" Serpentor looked out over the men. His blood sang in his veins. Much had changed over the long centuries, but not this. The spirit of the fighting man was unchanged. Different soldiers, the same speeches. These men were his now, and he would lead them to victory or death.
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Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 07-03-2017 at 10:01 PM.. |
05-06-2017, 12:51 AM | #12 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER EIGHT
April 28th, 1981, Rio Lindo, Sierra Gordo "Halt!" Steeler said into his helmet mic. His driver, Heavy Metal, brought the Lynx Armoured Gun System to a stop. Steeler scanned the scene through his periscope. The street opened up into a square up ahead. He couldn't see any enemy, but the whole thing smelled like a trap. He moved his eye over to the gunner's sight, reminding himself why he hated this particular vehicle. The Lynx AGS mounted a potent high velocity 90mm ARES II gun, just like his beloved Mauler tank, but it was based on the same modified Alvis Scorpion chassis as the Wolverine antitank missile vehicle. That meant that, in addition to reduced armor, the vehicle had sacrificed a crew member, leading to this highly unsatisfactory two man arrangement. The resulting vehicle was however, even more suited to airborne deployment than the Mauler, the reason it was selected for this mission.He still wished for a second set of eyes, particularly in a FIBUA situation like this. Steeler toggled to the vehicle's coaxial machine gun and fired a burst of 7.62 into a gaping storefront window on the far side of the square, trying to draw fire that would reveal a potential ambush. No response. Bad feeling or not, they still had to advance, the mission was to position themselves between the COBRA forces and their escape route to the harbor. "Forward, slow" he said into his mic, this time on the unit channel. He could see Footloose, Gung Ho, and Rock n Roll advancing up the opposite side of the street, weapons swinging in search of potential targets as they moved forward. Suddenly the air was filled with the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire and the wall and pavement near Footloose's team erupted in gouts of dust where rounds began to strike around them. "Shit." Steeler said, traversing the gun to face the direction of the incoming fire. Where ever it was coming from however, it wasn't visible to him from where he was located. He switched back to the periscope and glanced back to where Footloose and his team where. He couldn't see Gung Ho, but Footloose was crouched behind a VW that had been parked nearby, and Rock n Roll had his pig on the cars hood, shouting has he fired off bursts in the direction of the enemy fire. Just then Backstop's Armadillo rolled in, positioning itself between the pinned Joes and the machine gun fire. Backstop swung the tiny tankette's turret toward the threat and began to pour fire from its quad .50 caliber guns. The enemy fire slacked off as the Armadillo swept its guns over the building it was coming from. Covergirl's voice came over the Steeler's headset from the Wolverine, advancing a block behind them. "HISS, one o'clock!" "Where did he come from?" Steeler kept his eye on the commander's eyepiece, searching for the target as he traversed the turret back to the right. Just then the Armadillo exploded in a ball of fire. The enemy round had caught the small tank on its top deck, just behind the forward mounted engine, the force of the impact rocking the vehicle back on its tracks. A geyser of flame erupted from the tiny turret's single hatch, accompanied by the popcorn sound of the .50 caliber rounds cooking off. "Shit!" Steeler yelled again, frantically trying to line the 90mm's sight reticle up with the advancing enemy tank. The HISS, while very lightly armored, carried two 73mm low pressure guns, copies of the Soviet 2A28 Grom cannon. The rocket-like projectile, while not particularly effective against the most modern main battle tanks, was more than adequate for the airborne Lynx, and the dual mounted gun allowed for a very quick follow up shot. That follow up shot hit Steeler's Lynx low, just between the front sprocket and the first road wheel. The impact knocked him back from the gun's sight. Steeler wasn't sure if he had blacked out momentarily, but the next thing he knew, the compartment was filling up with smoke. "Heavy, we've got a fire!" He shouted into his mic. He got no response. Steeler slid down from his seat and looked forward to the driver's position. He could barely see Heavy Metal through the smoke, but his driver was still in his seat. He pushed forward through the spreading flames, popped the driver's hatch and began to push his friends limp form through. Serpentor watched as the vehicles burned and confusion spread through the Joe's column. He leapt from his cover and shouted. "Cooobraaaa, Attack!"
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 08-14-2017 at 09:19 AM.. |
05-06-2017, 06:55 AM | #13 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
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Wow. Excellent stuff Derstahlham! The level of detail in this battle sequence is outstanding. I always liked Serpentor but now I'm loving him.
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05-06-2017, 10:39 AM | #14 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
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CHAPTER NINE
April 28th, 1981, Rio Lindo, Sierra Gordo "Cooobraaaa, Attack!" Serpentor stood on the hood of a burnt out car, firing his RPK from the hip with one hand and waving for his troops to advance with the other. And they did, coming up from their places of concealment to charge or raining fire down on the Joe column from the windows that lined the Radial Marco Gomez "Attack! Attack!" Serpentor screamed. Footloose looked through the sights of his M-16 down the street in front of him. Muzzle flashes twinkled through the smoke that filled the street from the two burning tanks. Rounds buzzed past him like angry hornets as he fired a burst towards one of the flashes. "Go!" He screamed over the sound of his own fire. Gung-Ho and Steeler appeared from behind the cover of a ruined pick-up truck, carrying the limp form of Heavy Metal between them. They ran at a crouch down the sidewalk, ducking around the corner of the next intersection. Further down the block Rock n Roll's M-60 opened up, covering Footloose's own retreat. He sprinted down the sidewalk, acutely aware of the bullets whizzing past his head as he ran. A few yards ahead an RPG round exploded. Footloose ducked for a second, covering his face with his arms as he was showered with sparks and debris. He felt a sharp sting on his forearm but continued to for the corner. As he turned the corner he saw Rock n Roll crossing the street to meet him, firing his heavy machine gun from the shoulder as he did. Footloose saw Grunt Motioning to them from the doorway of a stone building on the opposite side of the street. He ran with Rock n Roll to the building, where Grunt pulled them through the doorway. He'd been to busy to notice on his way, but once inside, he saw that the building was a tavern. Heavy Metal lay in the far corner, being attended to by Doc and Steeler. Covergirl sat next to them, pressing a red soaked bandage to her upper arm. By the bar, Stalker crouched next to Breaker, who was shouting into his headset. "Repeat, this is Juliet Three One! We are taking heavy fire and request immediate support, over!" Breaker turned to Stalker "Hawk says there's no way to get to us, but we are cleared to disengage and pull back if we need to." Not for the first time that day, Stalker wished he'd had air support. "Damnit. I don't think we're gonna win this one, kids. Get ready to move!" Destro stalked across the deck of the container ship towards the huge sky crane helicopter. He could see Cobra Commander starting to climb aboard. "Commander! What are you doing?!" He shouted over the roar of the helicopter. "Going to pick up the Second Legion, of course!" The Commander shouted back. "Why?! Leave them! We're out to sea, we've won!" "That walking science project single handedly turned a total rout into victory, Destro! Do you think I'm going to leave a tool that valuable to fall into the hands of our enemies?" Destro shook his head "Don't you realise what...." Cobra Commander waved to him as the chopper lifted from the deck. April 29, 1981, over the Gulf of Mexico General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy looked over the two bodybags that sat on the deck of the Starlifter's cargo bay. Two dead, Backstop and Steam-Roller. Five more with serious wounds, Heavy Metal being critical. Four vehicles destroyed, the capital city of a foreign nation shot to hell, and nothing to show for it. A hell of an ending to the team's first major deployment. April 29, 1981, Elks Lodge, Springfield, Indiana The medal ceremony had turned into a full scale party. Cobra Commander had never been much for celebrations, personally, but the men deserved this. He looked over the throng of celebrating troopers to see Serpentor hoisting another mug of beer in toast to his men. "Serpentor! Cobra!" The rowdy troopers shouted in ragged unison. Destro walked up to the Commander. "There, Destro! Do you still think I should have left him behind?" Destro, no longer wearing is silver face mask, looked at the Commander, his eyes wide. "Are ye daft? Do ye nae ken what is happening here?" Destro had had a few drinks, and his Scottish accent had strengthened. "I suppose you're going to tell me." The Commander said flatly. "Tha man is made from tha DNA of history's greatest conquerors, man. Not soldiers, Commander, leaders! That's not a trooper. You're having a party for your replacement!"
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05-06-2017, 11:52 AM | #15 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER TEN
April 29, 1981, beneath the Springfield Car Wash, Springfield, Indiana It was almost midnight, and Dr. Mindbender had already been asleep when Cobra Commander summonEd him. He could tell the Commander was in a foul mood, even through the hood. "Your super soldier project is cancelled, Doctor. Effective immediately." The Commander said, seated at his desk. Mindbender was shocked. "Why?! The reports from Sierra Gordon were that he had performed beyond all expectation!" "Yes, Doctor, he performed a little too well. It has come to my attention that when Dr. Venom concocted this little scheme his intention was first to replace the leadership of the original COBRA Command, and then after I assumed control, to replace me!" Mindbender's mind raced. Did the Commander suspect that he had been aware of Venom's intentions all along? "Commander, Dr. Venom said nothing of this to me!" "Oh, I'm sure, Doctor. But think about it... Serpentor wasn't created from history's greatest soldiers. He contains no Alvin York, no Ernst Jünger. He was constructed from the world's greatest leaders." "What is to be done with him then?" Mindbender asked. "I'm going to send a squad of Siegies over to to take care of him." The Commander said, reaching for the phone on his desk. "No! It is my responsibility. Let me do it." Cobra commander's hand stopped, hovering over his phone. "I know you have a soft spot for your creation, Doctor. Any trickery here will see you in the ground next to him." "Of course, Commander. You know I'm loyal to COBRA, and to you personally." The Commander's hand twitched and moved away from the phone. "Just the same, Mindbender, I'll want to see a body." Mindbender switched on the light to Serpentor's small dormitory room and began shaking the clone. "Wake up! Wake up you fool!" Serpentor groggily opened his eyes, still a little inebriated from the day's revelry. "What is it, Doctor?" He asked. "Just get up and help me!" The Doctor hissed "And be quiet!" Serpentor sat up and went to put his feet on the floor. They landed on a man laying on his floor. He looked down at the naked form and the face that he saw there was his own. "What is this?!" He cried. "Listen, Serpentor. You were not created to be first of breed of mere soldiers, you were created to be the leader of COBRA! To bring us to victory and usher in a new era for mankind." "I've suspected this, Doctor. And even if I hadn't been created for that purpose, that was the goal to which I had set myself to weeks ago. I gather the Commander didn't know?" "He did not! But now that he's figured it out he sent me here to kill you. He believes me still loyal. Which I am, but to COBRA, not to him!" Serpentor looked down at the man on the floor. He was breathing, and his eyes were open, but he clearly saw nothing. "And who is this handsome fellow then?" Serpentor asked. "This was the our first attempt. The body grew well enough but the brain never reached full function. I kept him in the tank for study. Now help me get him into the bed!" Once the clone was on the bed and tucked in under the covers, Mindbender turned to Serpentor. He grabbed a backpack from the floor and thrust it into his hands. "Here! Identification, passport, and bank documents. Congratulations, you're rich! Now take them and go!" Serpentor looked at the pack and then back to the Doctor. "Thank you, Doctor Mindbender. It seems I owe my life to you twice now." His smile was genuine. The large man turned to leave. "One more thing! The woman you see in your dreams. She comes to me too. I don't know who or what she is, but perhaps your destiny lies with her." Serpentor walked out, closing the door behind him. Doctor Mindbender drew his pistol from his coat pocket, aimed at the thing in the bed's chest and fired twice. END PART ONE
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 05-06-2017 at 12:03 PM.. |
05-06-2017, 10:35 PM | #16 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
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Blown away just like Serpentor's Clone Brother.
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05-06-2017, 10:42 PM | #17 |
Crimson Guard
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Location: Val Verde
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Thanks, LC, I appreciate it. Part two will be more of a spiritual journey for our friend Serpentor.
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05-07-2017, 12:07 AM | #18 |
Iron Grenadier
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Kansas City
Posts: 966
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Wow, great stuff here. I actually find myself liking your Serpentor.
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05-20-2017, 01:11 PM | #19 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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PART TWO: The Chosen One
CHAPTER ONE "[I] never lost my belief, in the midst of setbacks which were not spared me during my period of struggle. Providence has had the last word and brought me success." - Adolf Hitler April 30, 1981, Roxxon Gas 'n Go, Indianapolis, Indiana Lightning flashed and hard rain pelted against the windshield of the AMC Gremlin. Serpentor had been driving about an hour, he estimated, but he had no idea what the time was. He was driving without a destination, and he needed to stop and gather his wits. The exit sign up ahead read Indianapolis, and he put on his blinker. Serpentor chuckled wryly to himself as he did so. He hadn't consciously thought to put on the turn signal, he had done it reflexively. But these were the reflexes of another man, likely some trooper grabbed from the motor pool and stuck into the brainwave scanner, his driving experience pulled from his mind and added to Serpentor's own. Indeed, this was his first time driving. He maneuvered the little car onto the ramp that took him off Interstate 69 and into the outskirts of Indianapolis. As he shifted his foot to the clutch, his knee brushed against the wires hanging from underneath the Gremlin's spartan dashboard, making him aware of another reality: at some point this car that he stole to make his escape from Springfield would be noticed missing and reported. Just off the exit there was a Roxxon station, thankfully open at whatever late hour this was, and with a small store attached. He pulled his car into a parking space and observed the store through it's front window. He had inventoried the backpack Dr. Mindbender had thrust upon him earlier when he had first gotten into the Gremlin. As promised, it held a wallet with identification, a passport, a number of bank documents, and a stack of cash of a seemingly large sum. At least he hoped it was. Serpentor's mind held the emerging memories of the great conquerors that had supplied the genetic building blocks from which he was created, and the skills technologically harvested from the brains of dozens of modern people. But those had mostly been the military and technical knowledge he'd needed to be an effective soldier and leader, no one had thought he'd need much in the way of practical living skills. He knew exactly how many Francs a lieutenant in Napoleon's Grand Armée received as a month's wage, but he had no frame of reference for the number of zeroes in the bank books he held. He needed the knowledge to live in this time and place! He put up the hood of his Springfield High Football sweatshirt (this would need to be gotten rid of soon) to ward off the rain and went inside the store. A chime dinged as he entered the station. The shop had a keeper, he saw, a thin man with long, greasy hair and glasses. The man didn't bother to look up from the magazine he was reading. "Excuse me, sir, do you know what time it is?" Serpentor asked. The man didn't lift his head to look up, but shifted his eyes to the register and back to his magazine and answered. "Bout a quarter to three." Serpentor studied the man a moment. He stared, slightly slack jawed, at the magazine on the counter, one who's focus was apparently nude women. A name tag pinned to his stained shirt read "ROXXON - My Name is LEE - Proud to Serve You". The man, who had still to look up from his magazine, stuck his finger up his nose, then pulled it out and studied his prize momentarily before wiping it onto his pant leg. Serpentor went to the magazine rack adjacent to the register and pulled one down. The cover, which showed a smiling man and woman, said "GQ- Gentleman's Quarterly, Fashion for Men, April $2.00". This would do. He picked six other magazines on varying subjects and went back to the counter. He had to clear his throats before the shopkeeper looked up from his naked women. Serpentor smiled. The master of this shop, in order to squeeze as much money from it as possible, had hired cheaply. The man behind the counter, paid the lowest allowable wage, gave the barest minimum of effort needed to retain this job. This man would labor for others all his life, content to indulge himself in whatever base pleasure he could afford, likely never rising above this lowly subsistence. Many things had changed over long millennia... but the nature of man remained constant. "Uhhh.. that'll be $15.50" the clerk said, still not having made eye contact with his customer. Serpentor pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the man. "Where is the nearest and least expensive hotel?" June 2, 1981, The Cambridge Hotel, Denver, Colorado The Mercedes hadn't been there when Harry Ross had left the hotel. He's only been gone a few minutes, just to get a pack of cigarettes, but it was certainly there now. A brand new 380SL convertible, looking like it just drove off the lot. Harry waffled for a second. It was 11:30 and he was dead tired. He figured he was already going to net 200k on this trip.. it had been very productive. But he needed to see who this car belonged to. Harry headed to the hotel's bar. The Voyager Room was right off the hotel lobby, through a huge set of oak double doors. It had been the jewel of Denver's prohibition era nightlife, and the management had kept the speakeasy turned legitimate bar's Art Deco decor immaculately preserved over the years. It was a Tuesday night, and only two other people inhabited the bar, the bartender and a man seated at the far end. Harry walked up to the bar and ordered a Bacardi and Coke. He looked the man at the other end of the bar. Pale pink IZOD, khakis, white deck shoes, and a sweater knotted casually around the neck. All good signs, but it was the gold Rolex glinting on his wrist that was the real tell, though. You don't buy those at JC Penny. He was young, early twenties like himself, and pretty big, too, biceps straining the short sleeves of his polo shirt. So, he summed up in his second and a half of observation, just out of school, probably played a little college ball, daddy has money. Time for work. Harry sat down two seats away from the big man and said "Is that your Mercedes?" The man turned to face him. He had a thick head of neatly combed black hair and the most brilliantly green eyes Harry Ross had ever seen. "Guilty." The man said, now his turn to look Harry over. "That must be your Jaguar parked at the other end of the lot, then?" "That's me. Harry Ross." Harry said, offering his hand. The shake he got in return was bone crushingly firm. "Stephen Minasian." The man replied. "What brings you to sunny Denver, Steve?" "Just passing through. On my way out to the coast." Minasian said, taking a sip of his drink. "California? Where? I'm a native Angelino myself." "LA. I've got to find my fortune. Or so my father says." The man said, pushing his empty glass forward and motioning to the bartender. "He's not going to just hand over the company to me right out of school. Not until I've accomplished something on my own. Old bastard." Damn, Ross thought to himself. This is almost too perfect. "Man, my old man was the same way. Said I'd never amount to anything." Harry said. "But I'm twenty two years old and I'm going to be ready to retire by the time I'm thirty. So fuck him and his shitty firm." Harry gulped down the rest of his rum and Coke and slammed the glass down on the bar. "What? What exactly do you do?" The man asked. His bright green eyes shone with avarice, and if Ross was the judge of people he thought he was, staggering naïveté. Ross pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Minasian. "Plymouth Investments. That's me. We're an exclusive brokerage, specializing in stocks for smaller, cutting edge technology and manufacturing companies. I'm clearing millions in profits every month for my investors." Ross neglected to mention that Plymouth Investments was actually little more than a post office box and a small office in his parent's garage in Reseda. "Tell me more." The man said. A short while later, Ross found himself helping a stumbling drunk Minasian into his room. He helped the man get himself sitting down on his bed. "Are you all set, Steve? Call up to my room in the morning and I'll get that sale drawn up okay?" "One more thing, Harry." The man said. He was standing now, and apparently stone sober. "Exactly how stupid do you think I am?" Minasian demanded. His green eyes, where previously wide and gentle, were now ice. "What are you talking about, Steve? I'm just trying to make us both a lot of money here!" "No, Harry, you were going to take a hundred thousand dollars of my money and give me worthless paper in exchange. That's not going to happen." Ross was suddenly afraid. "Hey, if you don't want to invest, fine, buddy. But you're throwing money away." He said, turning to leave. Minasian was between him and the door before he could react. God! The man moves like a panther, Ross thought. "Oh, I'm going to invest. In fact I intend to become your partner." The mans expression softened and turned into a smile. "Plymouth Investments is about to receive an infusion of capital, Harry. You will take this money and expand your operations. Rent an office. Hire as you like. But most importantly.. make money." Ross was proud of his ability to think on his feet. He wouldn't have made it very far in his business if he wasn't. But right know he was legitimately taken aback. "If you've already got this all this money, what do you need me for?" He finally was able to ask. "Ah, that's simple, Harry. I've had a... very sheltered... upbringing. I need a man like you, a man who knows the rules, how to operate in this world." For a second, he thought that the man meant something else other than the investment sphere. He brushed it aside as Minasian continued. "I will supply the capital, you will be my guide. We will learn from each other, and we will become very, very rich." His warm smile turned predatory. "And very powerful." Every nerve is Ross' body should be screaming in warning right now he realized. But they weren't. There was something about this man he instantly trusted. If Stephen Minasian had this effect on him, he thought, we're going to be unstoppable. "This wasn't a chance meeting, was it?" He asked the big man. Minasian gave another wry smile. "It was for you. Not for me. In every time and every place, there are always men such as yourself. I only needed to display the trappings of wealth and, sooner or later, one of you would find me."
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 05-21-2017 at 05:02 AM.. |
05-21-2017, 04:13 AM | #20 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
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Man Serpentor does seem unstoppable.
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