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01-05-2014, 03:14 AM | #1 |
Barty's Right-hand Man
Join Date: Nov 2013
Location: Ohio
Posts: 7,138
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CH.7
The click-clack of the baroness’ black knee-high boots resonated off the stone walls as she made her way down the hallway, to where two blue-clad soldiers were keeping watch. They both watched her approach, but the soldier on the right watched her more intently. He eyed her lasciviously,, while the other guard looked away when she reached the two men. I need to see the commander,” the raven-haired beauty informed the two soldiers. The soldier on the left said nothing, while the soldier on the right began slowly stroking the barrel of his AK-47. Even though the Baroness could not fully see the bottom half of the man’s face, she could still make out the form of the eerie smile he sported as he continued to look her up and down. “He’s busy right now, Baroness,” the guard on the right stated. “Perhaps you could wait here with us for a few moments.” “I need to see the Commander now.” The two guards looked at each other, then the one on the right said, “Well, okay, but we’d probably better strip search you first.” The Baroness glared coldly at the man. “Can’t be too careful, you know.” “Listen to me, you putrid little man,” the Baroness began, simultaneously pulling out a dagger from the sheathe on her thigh, and a small-arms pistol from the holster on her right hip. She placed sharpened edge of the blade against the soldier’s throat, and the the barrel of her pistol in his groin. “The very idea that you would dare touch me revolts me more than I can ever tell, and the fact that you dare speak to me in such a manner infuriates me beyond measure.” She leaned in to the man, so they were nearly face-to-face, while inching both the dagger and the pistol further against both parts of the wide-eyed soldier’s body. “This...is as close as you will ever get to me…ever. Or any other woman, for that matter I would assume. “Now, I would like to see the Commander. It’s a matter of immense urgency.” “Y-yes, ma’am,” the frightened soldier stammered. As the Baroness continued to intimidate the perverted soldier, the other soldier quickly turned and unlocked the door he and his associate had both been guarding. “Now, then,” the Baroness began quietly, allowing her cold, calculating eyes with the soldier’s fear-filled eyes to hammer the point home, “As I said, I have urgent business to attend to, and I am in a good mood, so I’m going to let you off with a warning- don’t let it happen again.” “Y-y-yes, ma’am. Absolutely ma’am,” the soldier stammered, beads of sweat running down his face. The Baroness straightened up, paused to take in her handiwork, proud of the paranoia she had induced, then stepped past the two guards. No sooner had she done so, then the guard on the right let out a sigh of relief. Immediately after, the Baroness stopped in the open doorway, and said, “On second thought…” Before either soldier knew what was happening, the Baroness spun back around, lifted up he pistol, and fired point-blank into the back of the soldier that had harassed her. His body pitched forward from the impact, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground, as blood ran down the far wall where it had splattered. The remaining soldier eyed the Baroness in shock, wondering if he would join his associate. As if in response, the Baroness simply stated, “Get rid of the body, then get back to your post.” “Y-yes, ma’am,” the soldier immediately replied, then jumped into action. Grinning, the Baroness turned back around and entered the Commander’s training room, shutting the door behind her. “What was that gunshot?” the Commander asked from where he was in the middle of the room. “I just shot one of your guards,” the Baroness calmly explained, “He got a little too fresh, so I had to teach him a lesson.” “Well, hang around, and you can atch me teach these two a lesson,” the Commander commented, motioning to the pair of topless soldiers on either side of him. “I need to speak to you,” the Broness informed her leader. “It’s important.” “Just sit tight,” the Commander instructed, as he and the two soldiers began to circle each other. “This won’t take long.” The Baroness sighed, yet did as she was told. Aftr sheathing her dagger and holstering her sidearm, the blue-clad villainess crossed her arms over her chest, and watched the Commander spar. The two soldiers wore their usual blue uniform pants and black boots, but wore nothing from the waist up. The Commander was dressed similarly, save for his fce, which was covered in a black bandana over the lower half, in the same style as his soldiers, only in a different color. “Come on,” the Commander ordered as he motioned with his hand for his two sparring partners to attack. “You heard the Baroness. I haven’t got all day. Attack!” Reluctantly, the two guards went into action. The soldier to the Commander’s right swung first, but the Commander blocked it, then delivered a hard right. It connected with the man’s nose, the impact forcing him to stumble back, as he the other soldier lurched forward. Learning from his comrade’s mistake, the second soldier swung with a right and a left, but the Commander easily avoided both, then forearmed the man in the nose. The man was dazed from the impact, and the Commander took full advantage of it. He forearmed the man in the nose again, a satisfactory smile appearing on his face upon hearing the breaking of the bone, then, he took hold of the soldier by his shoulders, and drove his knee up into the man’s gut. Defenseless, the guard suffered knee after knee, his ribs repeatedly being broken, until th first soldier rejoined the fray. The Baroness continued to watch on as her superior officer, her leader, shoved the badly wounded soldier to the ground, then stepped forward and thrust his leg out, catching the man square in the face. The soldier joined his peer on the concrete floor, allowing the Commander to turn and give the Baroness his undivided attention. “Now, then,” the Commander began, wiping sweat from his brow. “What’s so urgent that you had to interrupt my training session.” “I’m very sorry, Cobra Commander, but-“ The Baroness’ vice trailed off as she noticed the soldier that the Commander had kicked in the face trying to get to his feet. “Excuse me, Commander,” the Baroness began, attempting to warn her leader. “Hold that thought, please, my dear,” the Commander interrupted, reached down and withdrawing the ten-inch dagger strapped to his thigh. With lightning-like speed, Cobra Commander spun around and drove the dagger into the chest of the soldier, who stopped suddenly, then after the Commander shoved it into his chest deeper, collapsed to the floor, dead. “Now, then, my dear Baroness,” Cobra Commander began, turning back around to face the young woman. “You were saying?” “I don’t think he was going to attck you, Commander,” the Baroness stated, staring at the man’s lifeless body. “I think he was merely getting to his feet.” “So?” the Commander scoffed. “What, you think it’s okay for you to kill one of my guards, but not me? Cobra is an equal-opportunity employer, my dear. You know that.” “Of course, Commander,” the Baroness replied, taking notice of the evil grin behind the black bandana. “I have a schedule to keep, Anastasia,” Cobra Commander informed the young woman with an impatient tone on his voice. “What is it you wanted?” “I have news from one of our sources in the Department of Defense.” “And?” Cobra Commander asked, wiping his face off with a towel. “It seems that the military is assembling a team, of some sort.” “What kind of team?” the Commander asked, before lifting up his bandana to drink from a bottle of water. “An anti-terrorist strike force,” the Baroness answered, “Made up of specialists.” “What kind of specialists?” “All kinds.” “Could you be ore specific?” “Our source didn’t say,” the Baroness admitted, hoping she could find better answers to any future questions, in order to avoid winding up on the floor with the solider displaying the ten-inch dagger. “I see,” Cobra Commander said, slowly stepping forward, his gaze focused on the floor, deep in thought. The Baroness watched her superior officer closely as he came up next to her. “And just how many members will this…team…include?” The Baroness paused, then answered, “He wasn’t sure.” “Do you have any actual usefull information?” the Commander snapped, looking the Baroness in the eye. “Just that, sir,” she replied, looking at the floor to avoid the Commander’s gaze. “That’s all our source was able to provide.” “Then I’d say we need a new source,” Cobra Commander stated, before taking another drink. After he had swallowed the water, he continued, “Get rid of this incompetent, plant a better agent in there, and get me the information I need.” “Yes, sir,” the Baroness quickly responded, her trepidation easing up now that the Commander seemed to be letting her off the hook, unwilling to punish the messenger for once. She stood where she was, waiting for further instruction, but when the Commander looked at her again, a cold, icy, unforgiving stare imed in her direction, the raven-haire woman knew there would be no further instruction, at leat, not any that she was looking forward to. Turning, and heading toward the door, the Baroness had just placed her hand on the knob when the Commander added, “Anastasia, “ stopping her in the doorway at the sound of her first name. “Just in case this turns out to be a threat to us,” the Commander began, “Let’s step up our timeable. Tell our sources in the Middle-East to interrogate the hostage. Either he talks, or he dies, period.” “Yes, Commander.” “Also, contact our weapons supplier in Scotland. Tell him to advance our next shipment.” “It is not scheduled for another month, Commander,” the Baroness informed him. “It might not be ready-“ “No excuses,” the Commander stated, cutting her off. “Besides, you two used to be close at some time, weren’t you? Maybe you can convince him to aide us.” “Yes, Commander,” the Baroness answered after a moment’s pause, although she did so through gritted teeth. Without any further instructions, the Baroness opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway, leaving the Commander alone. As the Cobra leaderfinished his bottle of water, he heard the other soldier, the one that was still alive, attempting to get to his feet. The Commander turned and headed off towards the opposite end of the room, passing by the injured soldier as he did so. Instead of helping the soldier to his feet, or even asking if he ws alright, Cobra Commander pulled out his .45 caliber pistol, shot the soldier in the head, then holstered the pistol, and kept moving, without breaking stride. “Weakling,” the Commander commented with disdain. CH.8 The door buzzed, then clicked , allowing Col. Clayton ‘Tomahawk’ Abernathy to pull it open so Lt.-Col. Joseph Colton could step through. Abernathy quickly followed, caught up to his superior officer, and kept stride the whole way down the long hall. Silence filled the hallway, save for the in synced sound of their footsteps on the spotless tile floor, until Colton spoke up. “Why so quiet, son?” the Lt.-Col. asked, breaking the silence as he looked over at the Colonel. “Nervous?” “No, sir,” Abernathy replied with a shake of his head. The young man took a few steps in more near-silence, then looked at Colton, and asked, “You?” “Col. Abernathy, I’ve been to war, I’ve been shot, and I’ve shot back. Hell, I’ve killed people. I’ve faced down superior officers more times than I care to count, and nearly died even more times than that.” Both men stopped in front of a room labeled ‘conference room seven,’ and looked at each other. “Sooo…is that a yes?” “Yeah,” Colton replied with a sigh. “I’m nervous as hell.” “Good,” Abernathy added. “Me, too.” The young Colonel took hold of the doorknob and pulled the door open, allowing the Lt.-Col. to step inside, after which Abernathy followed. Once inside, both men stopped short, taking in the sight before them, as the closing of the door echoed throughout the quiet room. Seated around four round tables were eleven individuals, ten of them men, and the eleventh a woman. The woman, who was a redhead, sat by herself. At the first table off to the far left sat a man with blonde hair and glasses. The other two individuals were similar, with one having red hair, and the other having brown. The table next to it had three men seated around it, two with buzzed brown hair, one clean-shaven, the other with a few days’ worth of stubble, and the third with black hair and matching beard. Two men with beards that matched their hair sat at the next table over, as well, one being blonde, the other brown. The other two men seated around the table, one black, the other Latino, sported mustaches. After taking in the eleven formal-dressed men and woman, Colton realized he’d been holding his breath since the door had shut. Deciding he didn’t want to suffocate, the Lt.-Col. let it out. After exchanging a glance with Abernathy, he turned back to the soldiers, and bellowed, “Aten-hut!” All eleven immediately jumped to their feet and lunged forward, forming a perfectly straight line in front of the tables. Colton eyed them each once more, then said, in a softer tone, “At ease.” The men and woman quickly relaxed, spreading their feet apart, and placing their hands behind their backs, although none of them took their eyes off of their commanding officer. Starting at the far left, Colton visually made his way down the line, building his confidence to get him through what he needed to say. “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lt.-Col. Joseph Colton. The man to my right is Col. Clayton ‘Tomahawk’ Abernathy, and we are your commanding officers for this special little band of misfits. However, before I bore you with the details, let’s find out who you are, shall we? Sound off.” “Freistadt, sir, Eric W.,” the young man at the far left with blonde hair and glasses stated. “And what’s your primary military specialty, Freistadt, Eric W.?” Colton asked, eyeing the young man. “Artillery, sir,” he answered. “Second military specialty?” the Lt.-Col. added. “Infantry engineering, sir.” “Your file says you’re a mortar soldier, that right?” “Yes, sir.” “Also says you have a short fuse.” “Yes, sir,” the man answered, matter-of-factly. “I have a quick temper.” “Let’s try not to lose it, shall we?” Colton asked, although the question clearly doubled a sa warning. “Certainly, sir,” although he didn’t sound too convinced. Colton nodded, then looked at the man standing next to Freistadt. “Next?” “Specialist Gambello, sir, Anthony S.” “You’re our laser rifle trooper, correct?” “Affirmative,” the red-haired young man replied. “What’s your primary?” “Infantry.” “Secondary?” “Electronics.” “Good,” Colton began, before moving on down the line. “Because I can’t make heads or tails out of that shit.” The group chuckled, helping to ease the tension for everyone, not just the commanding officers. “Next?” “Barney, sir, James,” the man with short brown hair that resembled Gambello stated. Colton looked at Abernathy, unsure of exactly who the young man was. “Laser Artillery soldier,” the Colonel softly informed the Lt.-Col. “Sounds like a combination of the first two,” Colton grumbled, turning back to Barney. Abernathy shrugged, then watched his superior officer continue. “Primary and secondary?” “Artillery and electronics engineer.” “Like I said,” Colton grumbled, moving on down the line. Abernathy began to sweat, wondering if he had chosen the best candidates after all, until he glanced over at the redheaded female that stood at the far right, at the end of the line. She caught his eye, then looked away, but something about her demeanor, and steadfast expression gave him back the confidence he had lost. Abernathy knew that no matter what Colton decided with the men that were standing in the room, the young woman was bound to impress. “Next?” Colton called out, looking at the clean-shaven man with brown hair. “Graves, sir, Robert W.” “Primary?” “Infantry. With a secondary in small arms armor and artillery coordination.” Colton just nodded, giving both the young man and Abernathy the feeling that he was unimpressed. “I guess you could say I’m basically a grunt.” “Not in this unit, son,” Colton replied, matter-of-factly, as he moved on to the next individual. “We have specialists. Not grunts.” The man nodded, but said nothing. “Next.” “Pulaski, sir. Ralph W. I’m a tank commander with a primary in armor, and a secondary in artillery transportation.” “I’ve read your file, son. Implies you have a lot of anger inside you.” “Not sure about that, sir. But I do love to fight.” “You’ll get your chance,” Colton replied, moving on to the man with black hair and beard. “Plenty of chances. Next?” “Steinburg, sir, Lance J.” “What can you do for us?” “Drive any kind of machine you put in front of me.” “Any kind?” Colton repeated skeptically. “Affirmative. I’m a heavy ordinance operator with a primary in transportation, and a secondary in infantry.” Colton looked at him for a moment, so the soldier added. “You need something driven or operated…I’m your man.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Colton said softly, more to himself than the rest of the room, as he looked to the man with blonde hair and matching beard. “All right, son. You’re up.” “McConnel, sir, Craig S. I’m your machine gunner.” “Well,” the Lt.-Col. began, looking the young man over. “Certainly looks like you could fit the bill. Primary and secondary?” “Infantry and PT instructor.” “A lot of infantry,” Colton stated, looking over at Col. Abernathy. The Colonel chose not to reply, physically or verbally, he just watched on as the Lt.-Col. turned back to the next man in line, who happened to be the man with brown hair and matching beard. “Next?” “Kibbey, sir, Alvin R.,” the man stated in a thick Tennessee accent. “I’m a communications officer, with a primary in infantry, and a secondary in communications.” “And a hell of an accent.” “Yes, sir, Gatlinburg, Tenessee,” Kibbey replied, proudly. “Do you always chew gum, son?” “Yes, sir,” the communications officer answered truthfully. “Kind of a habit, I guess.” “Well, maybe we can break you of that habit,” Colton stated, looking at the black man next to Kibbey. Kibbey stopped chewing, and looked nervously at Abernathy, then, once Colton started talking to the man next to him, slowly began chewing his gum again. “You must be our Ranger,” Colton said, eyeing the man next to Kibbey. “Yes, sir,” the man replied proudly. “Wilkinson, Lonzo R. My primary is infantry, and my secondary is both a medic, and interpreter.” “How many languages?” “Four. Spanish, French, Arabic, and Swahili.” “Very impressive. We’ve had our eye on you.” “Thank you, sir,” Wilkinson replied, as Colton looked at the last man in the line. “All right, son. You’re next,” Colton informed the Latino standing next to Wilkinson. “Melendez, sir, Rafael J.” “Ah, Melendez. You’re our bazooka soldier.” “Yes, sir,” the young Latino replied. “My primary is engineer, and my secondary is infantry artillery.” “More infantry,” Colton commented, before turning his attention to the young woman. “And last, but certainly not least…” “O’Hara, sir, Shana M. I’m counter-intelligence, with a primary in intelligence.” “Obviously,” Colton replied. “What’s your secondary?” “Classified, sir.” “Excuse me?” “My secondary specialty is classified, sir. Sorry.” Colton looked over at Abernathy who just shrugged, then back to O’Hara, who simply stood there, defiantly. The Lt.-Col. sighed, then began his speech. “Well…now that the pleasantries are over with, allow me to bore you with the details. You eleven men and women have been personally chosen by Colonel Abernathy to be placed on the roster for a very elite, very top secret, special counter-terrorist task force known as Delta. He believes you are the very best. I’m skeptical, so you’ll have to forgive me if I wait until you all prove it to me. “I want you to understand something: this is not going to be easy. This will not be a walk-in-the-park. This is a life-altering decision that will require you to put your life on the line every second of every day. If you thought boot camp, and the regular day-to-day hellish lives of your previous military expierence were rough, then you need to leave right now, because you will simply not survive this expierence. If you agree to go through with this, you will have to prove yourself, and I don’t just mean one time. You will constantly have to prove your worth to this squad every second of every day that you’re a part of this team. “There is no leave, there is no vacation. Once you sign up on Delta’s roster, your asses belong to us, until the day you quit, or die. And there is a chance that you will die. You will be at war from here on out, putting your life on the line, with no quarter asked, and none given. I expect the very best out of each and every one of you, and if you don’t give me that, then you can go play mall security. I only want the toughest sons-of-bitches that ever laced a pair of Uncle Sam’s boots. “Whether you know it or not, times are changing. Terrorists are around every corner, on every street, and our policies on how we deal with them have to change. This country is the best, and I mean the best, god-damn country on this planet, and if any of you think otherwise, then you obviously haven’t done much traveling abroad. I love this country, I will die for this country, and I sure as hell will fight for this country, and you can bet your ass I expect every one of you to do the same. If that’s not in your reportore, then I encourage you to get the hell out. And I don’t mean of this room, or building, I mean out of this country. “The rewards won’t be great. There won’t be much money, there will be absolutely no fame, and I doubt very seriously if anyone will ever say thank you. You will fight, live, and die for this country simply because it is expected of you, and because it’s what you desire to do. “Signing on with Delta will change your life, literally. Your lives as you now know them will be erased, and your new, non-existent lives will begin. Your families won’t see you, your friends will forget about you, and your country will deny you. Such is the price you pay for the red, white, and blue. Delta will be your new family, and when I say that, I don’t say it lightly. You sign on with Delta, you give me your word, your life, and I will give you my support. I want every single one of you to look me in the eyes right now as I say this, and see just how serious I am. “You join Delta, and I will have your backs until the god-forsaken day when they drape your coffin in Old Glory, and send you home to your mothers. When the politicians screw you over, I’ll spit in their face. When the D.O.D question you, I’ll answer for you. When you need a friend, or a shoulder, I’ll be there. Just because you join me, just because you join Delta doesn’t mean you have no friends, you have no families…it simply means you have new friends, you have a new family. You do as I ask, you become a proud member of Delta, and I promise you this; you will never, ever, be alone. “And that’s not a recruitment statement, either. It’s not quota bullshit like you heard when you first signed up. This is real, as real as it gets. You live and die for this country, you live and die for Delta, and you have my word, my solemn oath that I will live and die for each and every one of you.” Abernathy was floored by the speech that Colton had just given. He stood there, in stunned silence, watching the Lt.-Col. slowly walk in front of the line, from one side to the other, looking each candidate in the eye, allowing his words to sink in. The only thought Abernathy could think was that he was glad he didn’t have to give a speech, because no one could have followed that. “Now then,” Colton continued, stopping in the middle of the line and turning to face the potential members. “I want you to understand that I only seek fully committed members of this unit. I want your heart and soul to be in this, so if it’s not, then this isn’t the place for you. And I also want you to know that if you feel this isn’t the place for you, then there is no shame, and I mean none, in leaving. You’ll earn my respect for leaving now, and saving myself and yourself, a whole lot of wasted time, instead of trying it out, deciding later, and half-assing this. Because if you don’t put your whole heart and soul into this, I’ll find out. Trust me, I’ll know. And when I find out, I will personally send you to the depths of hell.” Again, Colton paused to allow his words to sink in, then added. “With that said…who would like to be a part of counter-terrorist team Delta?” Simultaneously, all eleven individuals stepped forward and saluted, surprising Abernathy, and pleasing Colton, who grinned. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Delta.” CH9 The group rode the elevator down in silence, save for the humming and winding of the motor and cables. Several thoughts stampeded through each individual as they descended lower and lower into the earth, although everyone kept their thoughts to themselves. Everyone, that is, except for Specialist Steinburg. The dark-haired young man stood next to O’Hara, hands firmly clasped behind his back in an ‘at-ease’ posture, but his eyes continuously looked over at the beautiful redhead, who stared straight ahead, apparently unaware her new teammate was checking her out. Finally, his mouth spoke louder than his eyes. “I’m Lance,” he whispered softly as he leaned in towards her ear. “I’m unimpressed,” O’Hara flatly stated, in a not-so-quiet tone. Steinburg straightened up quickly, then felt everyone else’s eyes turn to him, to see exactly what was going on. “Natives might be getting restless, Colonel,” Colton informed Abernathy, “Why don’t you start the tour early?” “Yes, sir,” Col. Abernathy replied, taking a deep breath before beginning. “Delta, what you are descending into is not hell… it’s your base of operations. From this day forward, this fortress will be your permanent home. It supplies you with everything you need both personally, as well as professionally.” Just then, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open. |
01-11-2014, 02:06 PM | #2 |
Cobra Viper
Join Date: Sep 2013
Location: Georgia
Posts: 240
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Quote:
This country is the best, and I mean the best, god-damn country on this planet, and if any of you think otherwise, then you obviously haven’t done much traveling abroad. I love this country, I will die for this country, and I sure as hell will fight for this country, and you can bet your ass I expect every one of you to do the same. If that’s not in your reportore, then I encourage you to get the hell out. And I don’t mean of this room, or building, I mean out of this country.
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10-09-2021, 06:17 AM | #3 |
Barty's Right-hand Man
Join Date: Nov 2013
Location: Ohio
Posts: 7,138
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Bump
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