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Post by God Mike on Jul 23, 2011 10:27:17 GMT -7
Mike bowed like an artist when the people laughed. Well, except for Joe. Joe had taken to throwing things at him whenever he sang coming out of the shower. He was glad the Irishman refrained from doing such a thing this time.
"Alright, I'm next up for the shower," Joe said, getting his change of clothes and walking off. "Be back in a minute." Mike waved and hung his wet towel over the roll cage on the Wrecker. Yet another use for the roll cage. Did Mike's ingenuity know no bounds? Joe came back down the stairs. "And Dan, tell Mike what you told me."
"Hah?" Mike asked, blinking, then looked to the American. His name was Dan? Hm... How to turn that into an annoying nickname? Unable to really come up with anything, he sighed and said, "Alright, what do you need, Danny... Boy?" Heh, oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling...
Dan looked positively unnerved to be in the same room as Mike without Joe to act as a protection from the insanity. Mike's unblinking baby-gaze didn't help, either. Mike loved unnerving people. "W-Well, we need to get to the center of London, where the SAS is said to have a base. Apparently, they're taking in civilians for protection."
Mike thought about that. Should- hell yes, they were gonna do it. There was no need to think about it. Although he didn't like doing things for people without getting paid, the opportunity to take the Zombie Mack for a spin was payment in itself! Mike grinned widely and put on his balaclava and goggles, nodding as Joe came back.
"What do you think, Mike? You take your," Mike's eyes widened. Was he gonna say it? "Zombie Mack, I take the Wrecker, and we head to the center of London to drop them off before we go our way." A triumphant laugh escaped Mike, and he pointed at him.
"You said it! You said the name! Therefore, I keep the truck, and the name is now official! Yeeeees!" Mike clutched his fists and cackled to himself. He must have looked pretty insane, as he saw Danny Boy take a step back.
"It's your call, man. I know you hate 'assignments', but my vote's with we help them."
Mike didn't need to look at Joe. Instead, he pumped his fist into the air, a wide grin on his face, which was obvious even though it was covered by his balaclava. "Yeeeeeeeesssss! I'm all pumped now! We'll do it! Who's rollin' with the Em to the Ike?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 23, 2011 11:40:18 GMT -7
"You said it! You said the name! Therefore, I keep the truck, and the name is now official! Yeeeees!"
'Goddammit,' Joe thought to himself. "I'm all pumped now! We'll do it! Who's rollin' with the Em to the Ike?"
He looked back at the family, then the Knight, then the family again. "Dan, for the safety of your family, I suggest they go with Mike." He held up a hand halting Dan's objection. "Despite what he appears to be, Mike's actually very... Well, I wouldn't say very, but... Well, I wouldn't use that word either..." Joe noticed that none of this helped. At all. "Well, Mike's bats shit crazy, actually. But he'll take very good care of your family, and he'll look out for their safety as if it was his own. Besides, I'll need your help on the M2 on the Wrecker since I don't have a gunner. And since Dick probably has another mode of transportation," Dick growled at the name, but nodded nonetheless and got up to leave. "Yeah, he has another mode of transportation. But don't worry. We'll get you there safe and sound."
Joe walked to the cabin and pulled out a spare radio, a pair of his spare goggles, and a headset that looked a bit like the ones used by aviators to help block out sound. He handed them to Dan, who was confused, to say the least. "Not to act ungrateful or anything, but why are you making me man the gun? I can probably drive better than aim." Joe stared at the man long and hard. "No one but me - or, in rare instances, Mike - drives my baby. Now put those on, turn on the radio, and switch to Channel Seven." Joe looked over at Mike. "You too, mate. There's probably a CB on there, so change it to that too." Joe walked over to Dan, and pulled him along to the bed of the Wrecker.
"And besides, it's easy to fire the M2. The two buttons on top of the handles are the triggers, but keep your thumbs off them until we're fired upon. And watch out for the recoil, it's a tricky mistress." Dan nodded nervously, swerving from side to side to get used to the feel of the turret wheel. Joe looked at Dick, who was exiting out the back. He turned to face the small group, and he nodded. "Good day, Sir Joseph and Michael. I hope we meet again under different circumstances."
Joe nodded, and shut the passenger door to the Wrecker. "Let's load up!" Joe yelled as he walked around the Jeep to hit the door button. As it slowly slid open, Joe jumped in the Drivers seat and shut the door. The Irishman pulled out his iPod, something he hadn't used since maybe New York. He plugged it into the stereo system, and selected 'Fortunate Son' by 'Creedence Clearwater Revival'. He put the stereo system to play on the outer speakers Mike had installed back in the Bunker all those months ago. Joe had to admit, the music was loud. Perfect. No one would expect it, now would they?
Joe patted the wheel as he pulled out of the garage. He had seen that Dan had put on the goggles and the headset radio, which he checked. He picked up the CB, and pushed the talk button. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's get moving. It's almost sundown, and you know how I hate cities after dark." Joe hung up the CB, and switched on the headlights.
Joe pulled onto the main street, and made sure Mike was following, before he checked up on Dan. "Hey, Danny Boy, how ya doin' up there?" "Better than when I was in the garage, that's for sure." Joe chuckled. "It always is, man. It always is." Joe put up the CB, and drove a little faster. He bobbed his head to the beat of the old song that reminded him so much of the Vietnam War. He turned down a street, heading for the center of London. Quickly looking on the map, Joe concluded that the only completely defensible position that would be used in the center of London would be the Big Ben Clock Tower. Joe picked up the CB again. "Hey, Mike, follow my lead, alright? We're heading to Big Ben, copy?"
A few minutes had passed, and everything was relatively peaceful. Songs had passed, and it was now 'I Don't Wanna Stop' by Ozzie Osbourne. Joe picked up the CB again, and checked up on everyone. "Mike, Dan, how you boys doing back there, over?" "Everything's fine back here, Joe." Dan seemed to get the hang of the turret pretty quickly, twirling around to see if anything was amiss.
"Hey, I see something moving! Between the buildings!" Joe looked around, and surely enough, he saw a small squad of badly armored cars following them on the next street over. "Shit," Joe muttered. He switched off the music, and pushed the talk button on the CB. "Mike, you hear that? We got company. Dan, prepare to fire the M2." Joe saw in the rear-view mirror that Dan tried to give the M2 a test fire at the small squad, but nothing happened. Joe sighed.
"It's not firing!" Dan said. "Rack the bolt, you moron. And strap in, I'm about to do some quick wheel work. Mike, head out in front of us, we'll cover you from the rear, copy?" Joe slowed down enough for Mike to pass them in the Mack, and turned so that the Wrecker was directly behind the Swede. Joe saw the small squad of cars - three very badly armored cars - dart into their street. Joe looked closer, and saw a strange symbol on the hoods and the sides of the car. More than likely the Resistance.
Joe heard the clanking of the M2 behind him, and he glanced at the map again. They were there, so Big Ben should be... He picked up the CB again, pressing the talk switch. "Mike, we've got ten miles to go, let's pick up the pace and get there as fast as we can, over."
Joe looked back, and saw the first of the shots fired. Then he heard the roar of the M2 as Dan fired it into the lead car, tearing the sedan apart. He stopped, then he resumed firing at the second car, a whoop making it's way out of his throat. Joe grinned at that. No one couldn't not like the Browning! Well, apart from those on the business end of it, but that's a different story entirely. He heard as Dan tore apart the last one, and Joe smiled.
Well, that went better than he hoped.
It was a few more minutes before the group had arrived at the outskirts of the SAS base; Joe was able to see the perimeter wall from there. "Unidentified vehicles, this is SAS Control; identify yourselves immediately or you will be fired upon." Joe had picked up the CB. "SAS Base, this is the Zombie Wrecker One, with the Zombie Mack Two, requesting permission to enter. We have civilians, I repeat, we have Civvies with us. Please respond, over." The line was quiet before Control responded. "You're not in our databanks, Zombie Wrecker One. Identify yourself with the proper-" "Will you shut it already? We got five civvies, two adults, three kids, a goddamned family that need to get in. We are requesting permission to enter the base now, we're two minutes from the entrance, over." The line was silent again, then the man at the radio said, "Permission grant- wait a moment. Third vehicle, identify yourself immediately, or you will be fired upon." Joe wore a confused expression before he raised the CB to his mouth.
"Control, there isn't a third vehicle here." "But I can see it clear as day on the screen, three signatures right there!" "Uh, Joe! We've, uh... We've got a problem!" Joe looked back at what Dan was freaking out about, when his eyes widened. Behind them, a black Challenger 2 Main Battle Tank had broken through the brick walls of a building, covered in Resistance symbols, and for the first time ever, Joe's voice escaped him. Joe swiveled his head straight forward, and tried to speak into the CB, but all that came out was strained air. "M-M-M-Mike!" Joe had finally found his voice. But before this moment, he had never stuttered in front of Mike. "You might want to speed up! Now!"
Losing his voice again, Joe tried to contact SAS Control. "Zombie Wrecker One, we see a third unidentified vehicle behind your signature. Can you verify what it is, over?" Strained gasps filled the air waves before Joe regained control of his voice once more. Anticipating Mike's question, and answering to Control, he spat out one word. A very strained, panicked word, but a word that inspired fear nonetheless.
"T-T-T-TANK!" Joe yelled, speeding up. Of course, if he thought about it, he would've noticed that the tank didn't bother firing at either them or the SAS Base yet.
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Post by God Mike on Jul 23, 2011 12:43:01 GMT -7
"Dan, for the safety of your family, I suggest they go with Mike." Mike raised an eyebrow at that. Joe was entrusting him with kids? "Despite what he appears to be, Mike's actually very... Well, I wouldn't say very, but... Well, I wouldn't use that word either..." Mike felt his eye twitch. "Well, Mike's bats shit crazy, actually. But he'll take very good care of your family, and he'll look out for their safety as if it was his own. Besides, I'll need your help on the M2 on the Wrecker since I don't have a gunner. And since Dick probably has another mode of transportation. Yeah, he has another mode of transportation. But don't worry. We'll get you there safe and sound."
"Alright, guys and gals," Mike said, clapping his hands together. "Everybody into the Mack. I'll get ya there in one piece!" he said as he walked over to the Mack, climbing inside, while the mother and the kids got in on the other side. Alright, wheel on the right side could take getting used to, but he was sure he could manage it. At Joe's urging, he reached for the CB radio above him and switched to channel seven, nodding.
Mike popped his head out of the window and looked to the knight, who was ready to leave. "Good day, Sir Joseph and Michael. I hope we meet again under different circumstances."
"Good day, sir knight!" Mike called, grinning behind his balaclava. "May your blade stay sharp, and may your mead never stop flowing! Awooogah!" The knight laughed at him as he left. Mike was pleased. Always good to make people laugh.
"Let's load up!" Joe yelled as he got into the Wrecker.
Mike grinned and started up the Zombie Mack, revving the engine a few times. He looked at the mother and kids squeezing together in the passenger seat. "Isn't this fun? We're not even rolling, and I'm already having fun." He took a deep breath. "This is, truly, a great day!"
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's get moving. It's almost sundown, and you know how I hate cities after dark."
Mike reached up and grabbed the CB radio, pressing the talk button. "Actually, I have to point out that they don't actually know that you hate cities after dark. I know, but they don't. Food for thought. Now let's go! Awooogah-awooooogah!" he yelled into the radio, honking the horn, which blared loudly through the garage.
"East bound and down, loaded up and truckin', we're gonna do what they say can't be done. We've got a long way to go and a short time to get there. I'm east bound, just watch ol' "Bandit" run!" Mike sang as he followed Joe, bouncing happily in his seat, much to the amusement of the younger of his passengers. The mother was looking at him worriedly, though. "A tip when it comes to surviving in Zombie-Land," Mike told the woman sagely, "leave your sanity at the door. Where this world is going, you don't need it."
"Hey, Mike, follow my lead, alright? We're heading to Big Ben, copy?"
"Copy, Wrecker," Mike spoke into the CB, grinning. "We'll stick to your ass like shit on velcro!" He idly noticed how the family went wide-eyed at his language. "Oh, come on," he told the woman. "This is a world where zombiefied humans eat other humans. Are you really going to complain about my language?"
"Mike, Dan, how you boys doing back there, over?" came Joe's voice. While Mike was grinning happily, he felt himself quickly growing bored. Therefore, he just blew a raspberry into the radio. Good thing he did, too, because if he hadn't, he might not have picked up on the approaching noises. He heard cars... "Mike, you hear that? We got company. Dan, prepare to fire the M2."
"I hear it," Mike spoke into the radio, before putting on his welder's goggles. He looked to the family at his side. "Alright, guys and gals, I need you to duck and cover. Oh, and cover your ears, this might get noisy." They were quick to comply, and Mike grinned, pulling his .50 cal revolver.
"It's not firing!" came Danny Boy's voice over the radio, and Mike sighed. This man was going to use the .50 cal? "Rack the bolt, you moron. And strap in, I'm about to do some quick wheel work. Mike, head out in front of us, we'll cover you from the rear, copy?" Mike didn't respond. Instead, he just shifted and stomped the gas, picking up speed and rolling past the Wrecker, which slowed down. In standard trucking fashion, Mike honked the horn as he passed Joe and held his hand out the window, flashing him a thumb's up. "Mike, we've got ten miles to go, let's pick up the pace and get there as fast as we can, over."
"Copy that, Wrecker," Mike said into the CB. He wasn't going to be allowed to use any weapons, he just knew it... And that bastard got to fire the freaking Browning! He was no doubt enjoying himself, shooting up their enemies. "I should be the one to do that..."
Within moments, the shooting stopped, and the fun died. Mike didn't even get to fire a single round... That was so freaking disappointing... "I somehow wish something more interesting could happen," he muttered into the CB, though he felt that he'd probably have to eat his words soon...
After a few more minutes, they reached the fortified SAS base, and Mike had to admit that it was pretty cool. "Unidentified vehicles, this is SAS Control; identify yourselves immediately or you will be fired upon." Mike was ready to speak, but Joe beat him to it. "SAS Base, this is the Zombie Wrecker One, with the Zombie Mack Two, requesting permission to enter. We have civilians, I repeat, we have Civvies with us. Please respond, over."
"Zombie Mack Two?" Mike repeated in disbelief. "Two?! I'm number one! I'm always number one! I'm Zombie Mack One!"
"You're not in our databanks, Zombie Wrecker One. Identify yourself with the proper-"
Joe interrupted the dude. "Will you shut it already? We got five civvies, two adults, three kids, a goddamned family that need to get in. We are requesting permission to enter the base now, we're two minutes from the entrance, over."
"Tell him, mate!" Mike urged, grinning. "Show that dude who's boss!"
"Permission grant- wait a moment. Third vehicle, identify yourself immediately, or you will be fired upon." Third vehicle? Wait... Zombie Wrecker, Zombie Mack... That's two... As Joe talked to the dude on the radio, Mike sniffed once. He smelled trouble...
Grunting, Mike looked in the rearview mirror and saw, behind the Wrecker... a... tank... He clicked his tongue. "Me and my big mouth... I really need to learn to just... stay quiet... to just... shh..."
"M-M-M-Mike!" Joe stuttered over the radio, much to Mike's shock. He actually stuttered? "You might want to speed up! Now!"
"You don't have to tell me twice!" Mike said as he stomped the gas even harder. "Come oooon!" he muttered to the Mack as he slowly picked up speed. While big and badass, it wasn't the fastest vehicle in the world. And it made a pretty big target.
"T-T-T-TANK!"
This was one of the moments where Mike's insanity, and ability to detach himself from his fear, came in handy. "Hey, Joe?" he spoke into the radio. "The Mack is like a huge bullseye. Why haven't they fired yet?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 23, 2011 22:02:45 GMT -7
"Hey, Joe? The Mack is like a huge bullseye. Why haven't they fired yet?" Joe thought about this as they sped along the road. Joe looked in the rear view mirror, seeing the Tank's cannon aiming at the Mack, but not firing. Then Joe thought of something, and his eyes went wide when he realized it. He held up the CB to his mouth, and said, "They know we have the civilians with us, Mike." He looked back at the Tank before he contacted SAS Control. "Control, this is Zombie Wrecker One and," He sighed before he said this. "Zombie Mack One," God, he was gonna feel that one in the morning. "Is there a back door we can drop these civvies off so that we can do our thing, over?"
The line was silent before Control spoke again. "Yes, there's a rear entrance at the base of the clock tower, you can drop off the civilians there, and you can let us handle it from-" Joe interrupted the man with a small chuckle, then a full blown laugh. "Let you handle it? Trust me, Control, Mike and I can handle this on our own, and a hell of a lot better than you could; Ain't that right, Mike?" Joe laughed again, unnerving Dan in the back.
"Mike, make a right here, then we'll get to the rear entrance, unload the civvies, and take care of the tank the only way we know how. Sound good?" Joe quickly turned without warning down a side street, causing Dan to yelp in surprise. Joe looked back, and saw the Tank drive right past them and keep going after the Mack. Joe swore as he accelerated out of the side street, and down another road down, racing along the wall.
"Mike, do you copy, over?"
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Post by God Mike on Jul 24, 2011 7:00:08 GMT -7
"They know we have the civilians with us, Mike." Hoh, so they weren't just mindless 'shoot first, ask questions later' rebels. That was a plus. "Control, this is Zombie Wrecker One and," a sigh was heard, "Zombie Mack One," Mike laughed. He said it! "Is there a back door we can drop these civvies off so that we can do our thing, over?"
"Yes, there's a rear entrance at the base of the clock tower, you can drop off the civilians there, and you can let us handle it from-" Mike reached up and grabbed the CB, but before he could say anything, Joe beat him to it. "Let you handle it? Trust me, Control, Mike and I can handle this on our own, and a hell of a lot better than you could; Ain't that right, Mike?"
"That's right, Wrecker One," Mike said with a laugh, which got him strange looks from the woman and her kids. "We eat tanks like this for breakfast! Don't worry little SAS dudes, we can handle this ourselves. And we'll do it with style."
"Mike, make a right here, then we'll get to the rear entrance, unload the civvies, and take care of the tank the only way we know how. Sound good?" Immediately, Joe turned into a side street, and Mike, who hadn't had time to turn, waited for the next one, turning sharply to the right. "God damn, it's uncomfortable turning right when the freakin' wheel is on the right as well!"
"Mike, do you copy, over?"
"I copy, Joe, but I have a question..." Mike spoke into the CB, turning again. "Ah... Well... We don't really know how to kill a tank, do we? I mean, I've watched the Discovery Channel, tank specials and all, but we've never actually killed one before..."
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 25, 2011 5:32:45 GMT -7
"I copy, Joe, but I have a question... Ah... Well... We don't really know how to kill a tank, do we? I mean, I've watched the Discovery Channel, tank specials and all, but we've never actually killed one before..." Joe shrugged to himself. "Well, we can go in on foot, get behind the tank, and take it out from the inside. It's worked in the movies, hasn't it?" Joe sped up and turned again, and found himself at the rear of the base. Big Ben's shadow consumed the Wrecker as Joe drove on. Joe had noticed that it was now dusk, and realized that he and Mike were lucky to see the tank at all.
The Irishman drove until he was stopped by two guards. Two heavily armed guards. Joe grinned at the guards, then at Mike's Zombie Mack, which he saw had arrived before him. Joe was about to look back and tell Dan to unstrap, but he saw the man run past his door, and into the waiting arms of his family. And Joe blinked at this sign of extreme affection.
"Damn," Joe said, pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, and took a drag. "Boy can run fast if he tries." The guard knocked on the side window, and Joe rolled it down. Before the guard could say anything, Joe grinned behind his mask and waved his gloved hand at him, saying in a sagely manner, "You don't need to see my identification."
The guard chuckled, and replied with a monotone, "We don't need to see your identification."
Joe grinned even wider. A Star Wars Fan! Such fans were rare, as many stayed at home with their parents, and were thus delusional. They were tied with the Fatties on with death rates. He couldn't count the times he ran into a zombie with fake Jedi robes, a "limited edition" lightsaber clenched in their cold, dead fingers. One actually swung one at him once. For fun, he made the humming sound as he "sparred" with the zombie with his sword, masterfully "out dueling" his opponent until he beheaded him. It was the day Joe learned the wonders of insanity. Then he hit Vegas, met Mike, and... Well, you know the rest, right?
"Move along," Joe said, waving his hand again. The guard grinned and motioned him to move into the complex. "Move along, move along." Joe cackled as he drove in. Moving into the base, Joe whistled. It was... official looking. Parking in a random place, he hopped out of the Wrecker, and waved Mike in.
"Excuse me," Joe turned to the man behind him. He wore a rather nice... Joe couldn't name it. He simply couldn't. It was like a monstrosity that needed to be destroyed. It was... It was...
Joe gagged visibly, turning his head to the side to avoid the man wearing a pristine Italian suit with a bright neon orange ballistic vest! Several commandos shifted their stances to that of aggressive ones. Joe gagged once more before he raised his hands to "shield" his eyes.
"Oh God! So Bright! It Burns Us! It Burns Us!" Joe shouted the last part in a very Shmegal-esque tone.
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Post by God Mike on Jul 25, 2011 8:48:41 GMT -7
"Well, we can go in on foot, get behind the tank, and take it out from the inside. It's worked in the movies, hasn't it?" Mike clicked his tongue. That was the plan? Ah well, it was a fairly simple plan, he had to admit. However... Sighing, Mike pressed the talk button.
"Uh, you know, I may be bat shit insane, but I'm not really suicidal, mate," he said. "I do have an overwhelming love for life, you know. I'm not really keen on going up against a tank on foot... I-" Mike stopped when something came running up in front of the Mack. A Jumper. He barely had time to go wide-eyed, before the Jumped was thrown back by the huge, shiny bumper on the Mack, sending him skidding down the street, after which his head was promptly squashed by the right front tire of the Mack.
"Huh..." Mike muttered to himself and poked his head out the open window, looking back at the corpse of the Jumper. "Sorry, my bad!" he called back. Hopefully, the dude wouldn't sue Mike for squashing his head like that. Oh, wait, he couldn't do that. He was a zombie, after all... and a dead one at that.
Mike creeped the family out by bursting into triumphant, gleeful laughter as they approached the Big Ben. "No reason to fear, meine Freunde!" Mike said with a grin as he came to a stop in front of the armed guards of the SAS compound. "The Zombie Mack takes great pride in its ability to deliver its passengers safe and- Hey, where are you going?" Mike watched as the family scrambled out of the Mack. He shook his head. "Everyone's a critic..."
Hearing a noise behind him, he saw the Wrecker pulling out, Danny Boy immediately jumping out of it to reunite with his family. Tearful moment, truly. Mike, however, wasn't one for crying, so he just reached up and grabbed the CB radio. "Took you long enough, Wrecker Boy," he spoke as he watched Joe interacting with one of the guards. What were they talking about? After a few moments, the two laughed, and the guard waved Joe inside. Mike followed slowly, giving off a low whistle at the looks of the SAS base.
"Veeeery nice," he said, nodding appreciativelly. Following Joe's direction, he parked next to the Wrecker and got out, nearly collapsing when he foolishly jumped out of the Mack, landing hard on him bum leg. Humming, he moved to the front of the Mack, looking over the bumper to see that it was blood spattered and... "Aw, damn it!" he muttered. "That there Bumper Jumper done gone dented mah baby..."
Aaah, trucker talk~!
"Oh God! So Bright! It Burns Us! It Burns Us!"
"Hah?" Mike moved around the truck to where Joe was doing an excellent Smeagol impression, giving him a thumbs up. Then he noticed why Joe was doing that excellent Smeagol impression. "Uh-huh..." Mike said, looking over the dude in the bright orange vest. "Not exactly a stealthy dude, are you, Agent Orange?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 25, 2011 15:42:56 GMT -7
"Turn it off! For the love of all that's sacred, TURN IT OFF!" Joe shouted, blinking his eyes. He was seeing spots. "Not exactly a stealthy dude, are you, Agent Orange?" The man sighed, and took off the vest. "It was to tell others that I was a non-combatant."
Joe had walked back to the Jeep for his rifle, which he slung over his shoulder. He looked at the man strangely as he attached his knife sheath to the upper right portion of his vest. "Not holding a gun works just as well." The man shrugged. "It's a different kind of war these days." Joe nodded, but then an explosion occurred, the smoke and fire pluming into the air. Joe's head turned back at the man a sad frown on his face. "And as I told you before, we'd handle the tank." Looks like no tank killing today. The man smiled as he put his hand forward.
"You can call me Simmons." Joe stared at the man warily, before grasping his hand in a firm shake. "Alright, Simmons. Let's speak to the man in charge, shall we?" Joe followed the smiling man, who seemed to practically bounce on his heels to show them the base. He motioned Mike to follow, but signed to be wary.
Something didn't seem right to Joe.
"And after that, your Infirmary. Mike's got some wounds. You might not be able to help all of them, some are a bit psychological, but he's been that way. But they can take care of his leg hole, if they want." Joe waved as he chuckled. "No pressure, right Mike?" Simmons sighed as he led them to the elevator, but Joe held back.
"I think I'll take the stairs, Simmons." He pointed his thumb at the stairway. Simmons looked at the man with a stone cold face. "The stairs don't go down into the sub-basements. You'll have to ride with us."
"Well fuck." Joe muttered as he slowly stepped into the elevator. He put himself in the corner, leaning on the corner. He always hated elevators. Too many movies where something could go wrong played in his head, but he saw no other alternative. The doors closed, and down they went.
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Post by God Mike on Jul 25, 2011 15:54:47 GMT -7
"You can call me Simmons."
Mike crossed his arms. "I'll stick to Agent Orange," he said, shrugging. "After all, that's the image that's forever burned into my retinas," he muttered, still remembering that horrible vest... He followed Joe and Agent Orange, raising an eyebrow at Joe's paranoia. See, if you constantly worried about getting attacked, then, of course, you'd get attacked. Mike was always ready for an attack, but he never worried about it.
"And after that, your Infirmary. Mike's got some wounds. You might not be able to help all of them, some are a bit psychological, but he's been that way. But they can take care of his leg hole, if they want," Joe said, and Mike narrowed his eyes. "No pressure, right Mike?"
"I think I'll take my chances with healing naturally," he said. Was Joe insane? Allow complete strangers to treat his wounds? What the hell? As if to emphasize this, Mike leaned over and slapped the back of Joe's head when Agent Orange wasn't looking. "The hell, man? You tell me to be wary, yet you would allow these fuckers that we don't even know? Nuh-uh, fuck that shit," he hissed in Joe's ear.
"I think I'll take the stairs, Simmons," Joe said as they reached the elevator. Mike nodded as well. Stairs were good. In stairs, you could turn back up in mid-descent, and you had lots of room to move. That wasn't possible in an elevator. "The stairs don't go down into the sub-basements. You'll have to ride with us," Agent Orange said.
Mike grunted as he stepped into the elevator. "Alright, but you guys are riding this elevator with me at your own risk. I don't do well in tight spaces, so I might just suddenly snap and get this weird idea in my head that I'm a sushi chef... and you guys are fish."
With that said, Mike adopted a nonchalant expression and leaned against the wall, whistling a tune.
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 25, 2011 17:48:05 GMT -7
"Alright, but you guys are riding this elevator with me at your own risk. I don't do well in tight spaces, so I might just suddenly snap and get this weird idea in my head that I'm a sushi chef... and you guys are fish." Simmons looked at Mike incredulously, but Joe sighed.
"He's telling the truth. It's happened before, actually, back in, what was it, Wichita? Anyway, we were stuck with this one guy in a small cage in this abandoned police station that some Marauders had staked out. They took our guns, which we were extremely pissed about, but they didn't take our swords or knives. But, even if it was in a wide open room, the tiny cage, about as big as this elevator was dangling above the ground, the Marauders seeing as we wouldn't take the jump. We didn't, for a while, then Mike started to get stir crazy. Then he just started shouting out random shit in Japanese and cut the guy up like he was sushi! He almost cut me up too, but while Mike was serving Human Tuna Rolls, I picked the lock and jumped down, cause no way in hell was I gonna be in there with Iron Chef Mike in there." Joe took a breath to breath, then saw the elevator's dial reach the number highlighted on the button board of the elevator. So he took another deep breath and continued, only speaking faster.
"So Mike, still shouting out Japanese words, hops out of the cage, and slices a lot of the Marauders up. I contributed, slicing at least... four or five, but the rest fled. So I grabbed our stuff, and Mike, somehow, snapped out of it, and found out what a mess he made. Then we just got out, and went on our merry way." Joe grinned at the end. Well, it the abridged version. Simmons nor Mike needed to know that, before he snapped out of it, Mike hugged himself and cried sweet, sweet nothings to himself... Well, he assumed they were; it was all in Japanese, after all.
Simmons looked at Joe with a furrowed brow, then looked over at Mike, with slight fear showing on his face. The elevator dinged, and Simmons couldn't get out fast enough, muttering a quick, "Thank God," before he led Joe and Mike down a hall. In reality, he was trying to get as much distance as he could between him and the two maniacs.
Finally, they reached what appeared to be the Commander's Quarters. Simmons peeked his head inside, and said, "Commander, there are two gentlemen waiting to talk to you."
"See them in." That voice... It sounded so familiar... Simmons showed the two in, and Joe's eyes widened when he saw the man. It was him. The old, but sage like and spry Chinese man looked back at the two, a white eyebrow raised.
"No fucking way," Joe muttered.
Joe blinked. Then he blinked again. This couldn't be him... In no way it could be him... The man stood up and walked to the two. He looked at Mike, then at Joe. The sagely man's face was as still as stone. Before Joe could react, the spry old man smacked him upside the head with a thick tome. Joe fell faster than a wet rag, and grabbed his head groaning.
"What have I told you about using such language!" The old man scolded.
Joe chuckled, but groaned again.
"Yep. It's you alright. I recognize that headache anywhere." Joe looked up at Mike. "Mike. I'd like you to meet Wong Heung; my loving father, and my ruthless martial arts instructor." Joe's head fell back to the floor, earning another groan from him. Damn, did that book ever get smaller?!
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Post by God Mike on Jul 25, 2011 19:16:09 GMT -7
Mike chuckled to himself (read: out loud, kinda psychotically) as Joe told the story of the sushi cage. Aah, good times, good times... Did the Marauders that escaped still dream of him and his swords, Mike wondered as the elevator beeped, Agent Orange quickly stepping out with a muttered "Thank God," before leading them down the hall.
"I think you made him a bit uncomfortable, with your reluctance to get into the elevator," Mike guessed, humming. "Maybe he doesn't like stair-folk... Very suspicious of him..." he muttered. This was the part where Mike escaped into his own little world. Agent Orange was a secret agent, and a spy, who was there to steal Mike's blades, having come up with this extremely complicated plan to join the SAS forces, and lure Joe and Mike to this here base, then steal the swords... and dissect Mike... And Joe had suggested taking him to the infirmary... He must be in on it, too...
A loud smack was heard, shaking Mike out of his conspiracy thoughts in time to see Joe hit the deck, courtesy of a stereotypical martial arts master Chinese old fart, holding a pretty damn thick tome in his hand. "What have I told you about using such language!"
"Hoh, damn!" Mike exclaimed, kneeling a slamming his hand down on the floor next to Joe's head. "The Irishman is down for the count! Will he get back up, that's the question we're all asking, will he get back up?" he asked in a stereotypical fight commentator voice.
"Yep. It's you alright. I recognize that headache anywhere," Joe muttered and looked at Mike. "Mike. I'd like you to meet Wong Heung; my loving father, and my ruthless martial arts instructor."
"Hoh?" Mike asked as he stood up. He stared hard at the man for a few moments, and then put his hands together in a warrior's greeting, his fist against his palm in front of his chest. Then, he bowed. "Kon'nichiwa, Master Very Hung. It's an honor to meet you."
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Post by Generalfoley on Jul 25, 2011 21:39:34 GMT -7
"Kon'nichiwa, Master Very Hung. It's an honor to meet you." Hueng raised an eyebrow at Mike, then smacked him on the side of the head with the tome as well. "Respect your elders, young stupid one." Looking over at Joe, the old Chinaman picked the Irishman up and hugged him in a surprisingly strong grip. Joe could've sworn he was turning blue.
"Wǒ cuòguòle nǐ hěn dà, wǒ de érzi. (I have missed you greatly, my son.)"[/i] Joe struggled to breath in this happy moment. "Wǒ hé nǐ, bà ba. Xiànzài, qǐng fàngshǒu. Wǒ bùnéng hūxī, wǒ juéde wǒ néng gǎnjué dào wǒ de lèigǔ kāishǐ qiǎnggòu. (And I you, father. Now please let go. I can't breath, and I think I can feel my ribs starting to snap.)" The spry Chinese man let go of his adopted son, a large smile on his face.
"And can you please drop the whole 'Chinese Master' talk? It's just as weird as it was when you went to my school." Hueng sighed before he looked at Joe. "Alright-y then, boy-o." He said in a scarily accurate Irish accent. "So, how'd you get back to the Evergreen Isles?" Joe chuckled as he walked over to a chair, and sat down. "Well, Pop, that's a long, long story." Joe pointed at Mike. "It starts when I met my great friend Mike Andersson over there, actually." Joe looked at Mike's leg. "But I think that'll be in the morning, Dad. I gotta fix Mike's leg."
"Why doesn't he visit the Infirmary?" "He has a whole 'don't trust strangers to treat him' thing, so I'll just fill the whole with some of my home-made Foam-Aid, and we'll be set for him."
'Foam-Aid' was something Joe had stumbled upon while experimenting with whipped cream, antiseptic, painkillers, and other smaller meds to help heal the wound quicker. It basically sealed the wound, hardening to keep up the strength of the tissue and bone, but degraded overtime while it healed. But this would've been the first time Joe and Mike tried the Foam-Aid on a wound, at all, so all of those facts were just theory.
Hueng nodded, and picked up a radio. "Simmons," Hueng had reverted to the 'Sagely Martial Artist Master' voice, which freaked Joe the hell out. "Yessir?" "Have a couple of people lead Joseph McManus and Michael Andersson that came in to a pair of rooms, so that they may rest for the night." "Yessir, right away sir."
Hueng put the radio down, and looked at Joe. "We shall discuss this in the morning." Hueng looked at Mike. "The both of you." Joe nodded, and turned to see that two rather attractive women had entered the room.
"We're here for Joseph and Michael?" The darker haired one said. Joe smiled softly, and walked forward. "Yeah, you're here to take us to our rooms?" They nodded, and Joe offered a hand to Mike.
"Want some help getting to your room, man?"
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Post by God Mike on Jul 26, 2011 7:53:28 GMT -7
Mike grinned at the old man. Then, stars exploded in front of his eyes, and he felt his knees give out as he fell to the floor, hitting his head hard. The impact with the floor was enough to knock Mike unconscious. That was one hell of a tome...
When he came to again, there were some differences in his behavior. For one, Mike was no longer in control. "...discuss this in the morning." Heung's voice... The fucker that hit him... "The both of you."
"Aaah, my head..." Erik muttered as he stood up. He could feel a bump already forming. He glared at the ancient old fucker. "Did you just fucking hit me, old timer? That was the last mistake you'll ever fucking make..."
Slowly, Erik reached up, grabbing one of his ninja-to, intent on filleting the old fart. "Want some help getting to your room, man?" Erik stopped and looked to the side, to stare at Joe's hand. Then, he looked into Joe's face.
"You can't be fucking serious... Listen, punk, I- Oh, hello," he said, staring at the two women who had somehow magically appeared in the room. A huge grin spread on his face, and he slowly let go of his ninja-to to pat the blond girl on the shoulder. "So, you'll be taking me to my room, then? Lead the way."
Michael Andersson Know-How Lesson 174: The only thing that can take Erik's attention away from violence is sex.
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