Post by wrath on Jul 27, 2015 7:50:27 GMT
(OOC Note: What a fucking week. Someone shoot me. Please. Enjoy guys.)
Diary of a Deadman 014: Foxhole
It’s amazing the things you think about when you’re hunkered down in a foxhole, wondering if you’re going to make it through the night.
You wonder if you’re ever going to see your mother again. You wonder if you’re ever going to see your family, your pets, your friends. You question all of the decisions you’ve made in life. You question if you’ll ever eat your favorite foods, ribs and brisket, again or if you’ll ever taste another drop of alcohol.
And you do it all in the blink of an eye. All of that shit runs through your head so fast it’s mind numbing.
You know what you don’t question, when there’s rockets and bombs going off and enemy troops are trying to end your existence?
If god exists.
There is no doubt, because all you can really do… is duck your head and pray.
You pray and you pray and you pray. You bargain and plead and beg god to pull you through the night. You confess to all of your sins and beg for his forgiveness; because by his name, tonight may be your night.
I’ve made my own deals with the good lord above. I don’t know why I’ve survived what I’ve survived. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve pledged my life to doing right by people I’ve come across. I don’t know if it’s because there are bigger plans for me. Or if it’s just cause I’m one lucky sumbitch.
But I know, sitting in an ambush position with enemies all around me and the threat of dying at any second, gave me a different look on life.
I know that sitting in a foxhole shaped me as a person. I know that I took those promises I made to god very seriously. I still do. I have too. I have to take the fact that I promised to maintain my morality and always strive to do what right seriously. I have to obey when I promised that in exchange for my life, I would fight for the downtrodden and people crying out for freedom.
I don’t have a choice. I’m still here. He held up his end of the bargain… it’s my turn to hold up mine.
It’s time to take freedom off life support.
You Ain’t Even Half As Nice, Bloodier Than Passioned Christ
The camera comes on, focused on the half skinned carcass of a deer, and a big bowie knife that is sheering away flesh and the pelt. As the camera comes back slightly, it shows Alex Atwater with the knife in hand, a hunk of flesh in the other. Peeing away the pelt from the meat, Alex smirks and looks at his handiwork and sets the pelt down in the dirt next to the hanging body. Alex turns his attention towards the cameras. As he sets his sights on the cameras, his head shakes slightly. Flipping the bowie knife in his hand, he slams it down into the meat of the deer carcass; leaving it sunk firmly into the torso of the animal.
Alex’s Army t-shirt, that he’s probably ordered by the case, is stained with the blood of the deer, as are his hands; but he doesn’t seem phased by any of it, in any way at all. Approaching the cameras slowly, a malicious grin spreads across his face.
Alex begins to speak in a low, but ominous tone. “Last week left no doubt in anyone’s mind that when and if I do end up cashing in and taking the Invictus champion to task for giving me what I’m owed… he’s going to be forking over that title belt as quickly as he can. And this week leaves no doubt in my, or anyone else’s mind, that someone is getting the raw end of the deal.”
Alex scoffs and continues. “Since Night of the Immortals, two months, I’ve sat with a contract in my hands. Since Night of the Immortals, I’ve been chomping at the bit to take what I’ve been owed. And here I sit, watching a wealthy, arrogant, asshole using his money and power to bully his way into my spot, and get what I’m owed. And it seems there wasn’t a lot I could fucking do about it.”
Atwater’s grin spreads across his face, the hatred clearly showing in his eyes. “So with that being said, and my highly unusual level of hostility…” Alex’s face takes on a grim look as the grin fades “It looks like your ignorant ass picked a really bad time to walk through the doors and end up on a pay-per-view card.”
Atwater pauses for a moment and ponders his next words carefully. “There are times in this business when you’re presented with an opportunity to do something that benefits the business. There are times in this business where you’re shown why you really love getting in the ring and doing what you’re doing. And this week is certainly one of those weeks… because the fans are going to get what the hell they paid for out of me, that’s for damn sure.”
Atwater shakes his head. “Rob, I know you think I’m going to come out here and freak out because you dared to talk down to a soldier. Fact is, you’re absolutely right, you’re an American… you have a first amendment right to say any fool ass thing you want to say. And everyone has the right, just like you did telling me to shut the fuck up… to call you a fucking tool and not give a flying fuck about anything you do.”
Atwater laughs. “You know who cared about Rob Diamond not being on IWF television?”
There’s a long pause as Atwater taps his foot and stares at the camera. He looks down at his watch after a long, awkward ten seconds. “Anyone? Anyone at all? Did anyone miss hearing every dumb catchphrase from the nineties, self aggrandizement, and some punk bitch trying to act like he’s a lot fucking tougher than he actually is?”
Atwater pauses for another couple of seconds. “Nope, that’s what I thought. No one gave a flying fuck you were gone. And no one is going to give a flying fuck that you’re here now, other than you’re walking into the ring with as you so eloquently put it… a professional hitman. No one gives a flying fuck that you’re here, other than you’re about to get your ass whooped on television in front of the world by a man that the IWF fans love. I could dress my momma up to play your role and the fans would still be just as happy. ”
Atwater continues on with a zealous fervor “Let’s be completely honest, I could call you Rob Diamond, or any other number of assorted, get a bucket of 800 for a ten spot, goofball assholes that populate this sport. You’re no different than the run of the mill wrestler that thinks he’s cute and clever. You were better off at home, as you so put it… getting drunk and watching asian girls gyrate for you. That’s a much more productive use of your time. That’s a much more productive use of everyone else’s time for you.”
Alex snickers a little bit. “In fact, you two go perfectly together actually. A couple of dumb bitches with self esteem issues that take it in the butt with minimal lube in a desperate attempt to find the love daddy never gave you. See, cockbreath… not that hard. ”
Alex shrugs and continues. “Now, I know the concept of someone caring about something other than themselves is a really scary and foreign concept for you. I know that when someone like me actually tries to educate the world and show a social conscience; something deep inside you gets really jealous. You need to lash out, and that’s okay Rob. I understand. I’m not mad at you for it. I’m not mad at you for being so ignorant to try to use my military service as a ruse to bait me into a screaming match.”
Alex laughs. “I’m not that guy. I’m not that stupid. I’m not you.”
Alex continues after a short pause to left his words sink in. “It’s fine, Rob, that you can’t handle the truth. It’s fine that you don’t have the guts to actually get up and do something about the things going on in the world. You tell me I’m doing nothing, but that’s where you’re wrong. We both have the same platform. We both reach millions of people all over the world. Millions in America alone, and millions more in oppressed countries all over the world.”
Alex laughs. “And each week, I give the people hope. I give them courage to stand up and fight back. I give them a voice that tells them they aren’t alone in this fight. That someone else is getting fucked by the big guy, but refuses to back down. I speak out against injustice and try to help level the playing field for everyone. I show them someone is fighting for them… fighting for what they really hold dear. And each week, what do you give them, Rob?”
Alex shakes his head and rolls his eyes, showing how unamused he is. “AIDS jokes and telling people to suck your dick.”
Alex laughs mockingly and continues. “I get why you don’t like what I say. When you look in the mirror, and then you look at me… you see everything you can’t be. I don’t have to lie, cheat, and steal to get to the top of this business. I’m just fucking better than you. I’m just going to out work you every step of the god damn way. And that drives you insane. It drives you insane that you couldn’t be this honorable and survive in this world. It makes you really fucking salty that the billygoat couldn’t ever dream to be as talented as me on my worst day in the god damn ring.”
Alex smirks. “That’s why you have to resort to all those tactics to get what you want. It’s not because it makes you great… it’s because at the end of the day, that’s all you really got. I know all of those dirty tricks… I just don’t need them. I don’t need the extra leverage, because I’m that good. And everyone knows it. I could have taken the nice easy path. I could have done what you’ve done and sat at home this week and jerked off and rested up for the next round in Heir to the Throne…”
Alex smiles. “But damn if my red blooded American work ethic wouldn’t let me slack off like a dumb shit frat boy.”
Alex continues after a moment. “Damn if the siren song of this god damn business drags me to the ring like a moth to a god damn bug zapper. I just couldn’t resist. So I called, I demanded, I begged to be put in the ring against anyone… because I wanted to tear someone’s head off and show the world that the American Assassin will never falter and never back down. That’s when they threw your dumb ass to the wolves and destined your return to the ring and this company to be an utter slaughter.”
Alex takes a step closer to the camera and his eyes grow more intense “At the end of the day, all you really are to me, is another target in my cross hairs. And you’re not a very big one at that. You’re about as ugly a sight as Eddie Black was. And we both know how that one ended. Where is he at Rob? He ain’t here. Maybe you should call him and ask him what lengths I’m willing to go to, just to get the job done.”
Alex smirks. “Maybe you should call Jack Gaither and ask him what the fuck I’ll do to someone to walk away with a win. Or did you not watch Bloody Assizes? Or did you not see the huge and gaping hole in your logic. Call me a killer of women and children, and whole heartedly mean it… and then think there’s going to be some shred of hope that you’ll do something in that ring to get a win that I won’t do.”
Alex laughs and looks into the cameras as he gets very close. “You go ahead and be stupid and think that, Rob. You think you know what’s going to happen, and you painted well… a shitty picture of it. But I actually do know what’s going to happen. And it doesn’t end with you summing up the entire heel run of the fucking yoga schmuck.”
Atwater’s tone gets far more grim and ominous “It ends with you finding out the bitter sting of what oppression really looks like. It ends with a decadent, arrogant, fool feeling the boot of a soldier crushing his fucking jaw and knocking him unconscious.”
Alex nods “It ends with the stereotypical American douchebag, getting a good old fashioned American ass whooping, manufactured and shipped direct from Liberty Hill.”
Alex reaches up and shuts off the camera and the feed goes to snow and then goes dead.
Preventing Winter: Chapter 09
As Alex walked up to Brian, he could see the look on Brian’s face. There were a shit ton of questions and not a lot of answers coming from anyone. As Alex saw it, they were stuck doing whatever the spooks wanted at this point; but there was something ringing in the back of his head that told him the spook they were dealing with was not to be trusted. Spooks, as a general rule, were never to be trusted. They plied their tradecraft in deception; their bread and butter being that they were untrustworthy. As Alex pondered this thought, he questioned if his distrust was because of his position or if he had sensed something off about the man from the jump.
“What’s the fucking deal, Alex?” Brian asked, clearly exasperated by the recent chain of events. “We’re just walking away from this shit?”
“We don’t have a lot of choices at the moment, Bri.” Alex said, shifting his eyes in the direction of James Morgan, the CIA guy.
“Oh great, the spook said jump and you went for it.” Brian said, bitching like an older brother at Alex.
“It’s more fucking complicated than that, Brian. You should know that.” Alex responded tensely.
“Gentleman, the clock is ticking. We don’t have time for you two ladies to work out your marital issues.” Morgan said, cutting through their conversation.
“He’s right, Brian, we need to get wheels up.” Alex said, sounding none too pleased with his own statement.
“We better go get Leo and Mikey then.” Brian said. “C’mon.”
“I’m going with you both.” Morgan said.
Brian and Alex both stopped and turned around, casting evil glares at the man from the CIA. James Morgan has seen it all. Being the station chief in a very hostile part of the world, he had been threatened more than once; and had survived more than one attempt on his life. There were a lot of men that he was prone to ignore, but the looks from Brian and Alex caused Morgan to stop in his tracks. He knew vicious attack dogs when he saw them; and the two of them looked like they were ready to strike.
“No you’re fucking not.” Brian responded with sheer aggression.
“Hey, whoa…” Morgan held up his hands, trying to play things cool. “I’m just trying to protect my assets and make sure everyone gets out of here smoothly. You guys are too important.”
“We survived this, we’re armed. We can take care of ourselves.” Brian said in a very condescending tone. “Thanks.”
Morgan knew when to back off, and as much as he didn’t like walking away and leaving them to their own devices for any length of time; he knew that he was going to have to play this one carefully. Things were unraveling on the ground, and the only way he’d be able to manage the perception of this disaster was going to be to start at the source. It was his job to debrief them anyway, and he could manipulate the reports to show what he wanted the world to see. This was, after all, his part of the world. And there would be nothing that stood between him, his fortune, and his retirement on a beach in south east asia.
As Alex and Brian marched away to find Leo and Mikey, Alex took a moment to compose his thoughts. Brian was jabbering about how he hated getting pulled from the fight already; but Alex was tuning him out as the puzzle pieces started to drop into place and he started to formulate a game plan. Alex approached where Leo and Mike were sitting, both of them looking like they were about ready to crash. It had certainly been a long night, and they were all in need of relief from the stress of battle. Alex heard Brian speaking before he could open his mouth.
“We just got fucking pulled! Can you believe this shit?” Brian said, his perpetual energy showing when everyone else seemed beat.
“Dude, who put horse crank in your coffee mug?” Mike Rohmberg asked Brian.
“I’m pissed!” Brian snapped.
“Brian, shut up.” Alex said.
“What?” Brian asked incredulously.
“You heard me.” Alex said, holding up a finger.
The look on Alex’s face said it all. They had all seen it before, and knew what it meant. Alex had the ability to connect dots that a lot of people missed, and as they walked away, something was burning at the back of his head. And Brian’s angry babbling had sparked the wheels turning and the light bulb to illuminate over his head. Alex’s look turned to one of slight puzzlement as he tilted his head and looked at Brian.
“You didn’t threaten the spook did you?” Alex asked him, trying to clearly remember everything that had happened in the last five minutes.
“No. I wanted too, but I figured you’d whack me upside the head and tell me to shut up.” Brian said.
“Morgan let us walk away really easily.” Alex said. “Leo, you worked with some spooks that time you got sheep-dipped… do they ever let assets walk freely when they’re HVT’s and have a high level of information that would be deemed classified?”
“Not without someone pulling a gun. And even then, you’re still probably being tailed and checked up on.” Leo said.
“What are you saying, Alex?” Brian asked.
“I’m saying I don’t trust this fucking guy. Something seems off.” Alex said.
“Maybe he just sucks at his job. He is a station chief. He probably spends his time behind a desk” Mike said.
“No, that’s not the way it works with these guys, Mikey.” Leo started. “You don’t get to be station chief over here by sucking at your job. No, this guy is good… really good. He’s probably done a lot of really nasty shit and deals with a lot of really shitty people. “
“You think he’s got eyes and ears on us now?” Brian asked.
“Do we give a fuck?” Alex asked
“How hostile were you guys with him?” Leo asked.
“Brian was a little forceful, but… it’s Brian.” Alex said with a little laugh, not having to say much else.
“Hey, what does that mean?!” Brian asked, his voice getting uncharacteristically high with indignation
“It means you’re a violent asshole.” Mike said with a laugh.
“Nothing this guy doesn’t get out of his own people, Leo.” Alex said.
“You’re right, Alex. I smell bovine fecal matter.” Leo said.
“Colonel Martin is right though… we gotta play nice. Once we do, we can go home and get to work.” Alex responded. “Nothing about our suspicions, nothing about what Sheik Douchebag babbled about. Cold and clinical. If he’s rotten, it could come back to haunt a lot of people over here and everywhere else.”
Everyone nodded and kept their tacit agreement silent. They were a unit, or if they had actually taken the time to examine it, a more dysfunctional family than a group of co-workers. As different as all of them were as individuals, they all seemed to share the same mind set about their work and the way they went about it. There was an implicit trust between every man standing there. It was easy to have that kind of trust when you had taken bullets for each other and proven that you’d sacrifice everything to make sure they continued their day for even another second.
As they marched towards James Morgan, their weapons in tow; there was an air of their resolve in the air. Alex looked at the chopper and then back at Morgan. He pointed at the chopper, and as soon as he did, Morgan gave the orders to get the rotors turning again. As they walked up, Morgan smiled at Alex and extended his hand again for a hand shake. As he did, Alex took his hand, not crushing his fingers this time. Morgan smiled up at him and gave him a polite nod.
“You boys sort out what you needed to sort out?” James Morgan asked.
“Well, Morgan… if that’s your real name, I would assume so.” Alex said with a distrustful smile stapled to his face.
“Good, we need to get moving. Sooner we get you debriefed, the sooner you boys can get on home and collect your payday and the lofty reward that comes with Al-Saleem’s head.” Morgan said, ushering them towards the chopper.
There it was, there was the first play, and Alex could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Morgan was all too eager to get this done and move on. Alex was filing it all away, and making a note to give Colonel Martin a call and leave him a message when he got back to the states. There was something up here, and he could smell it. Climbing onto the chopper, Alex and company were handed flight helmets. The whir and noise of the rotors and props powering up and lifting them off the earth drowned out every drop of other sound and for the first time; Alex was happy to have what he deemed to be peace.
Diary of a Deadman 014: Foxhole
It’s amazing the things you think about when you’re hunkered down in a foxhole, wondering if you’re going to make it through the night.
You wonder if you’re ever going to see your mother again. You wonder if you’re ever going to see your family, your pets, your friends. You question all of the decisions you’ve made in life. You question if you’ll ever eat your favorite foods, ribs and brisket, again or if you’ll ever taste another drop of alcohol.
And you do it all in the blink of an eye. All of that shit runs through your head so fast it’s mind numbing.
You know what you don’t question, when there’s rockets and bombs going off and enemy troops are trying to end your existence?
If god exists.
There is no doubt, because all you can really do… is duck your head and pray.
You pray and you pray and you pray. You bargain and plead and beg god to pull you through the night. You confess to all of your sins and beg for his forgiveness; because by his name, tonight may be your night.
I’ve made my own deals with the good lord above. I don’t know why I’ve survived what I’ve survived. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve pledged my life to doing right by people I’ve come across. I don’t know if it’s because there are bigger plans for me. Or if it’s just cause I’m one lucky sumbitch.
But I know, sitting in an ambush position with enemies all around me and the threat of dying at any second, gave me a different look on life.
I know that sitting in a foxhole shaped me as a person. I know that I took those promises I made to god very seriously. I still do. I have too. I have to take the fact that I promised to maintain my morality and always strive to do what right seriously. I have to obey when I promised that in exchange for my life, I would fight for the downtrodden and people crying out for freedom.
I don’t have a choice. I’m still here. He held up his end of the bargain… it’s my turn to hold up mine.
It’s time to take freedom off life support.
You Ain’t Even Half As Nice, Bloodier Than Passioned Christ
The camera comes on, focused on the half skinned carcass of a deer, and a big bowie knife that is sheering away flesh and the pelt. As the camera comes back slightly, it shows Alex Atwater with the knife in hand, a hunk of flesh in the other. Peeing away the pelt from the meat, Alex smirks and looks at his handiwork and sets the pelt down in the dirt next to the hanging body. Alex turns his attention towards the cameras. As he sets his sights on the cameras, his head shakes slightly. Flipping the bowie knife in his hand, he slams it down into the meat of the deer carcass; leaving it sunk firmly into the torso of the animal.
Alex’s Army t-shirt, that he’s probably ordered by the case, is stained with the blood of the deer, as are his hands; but he doesn’t seem phased by any of it, in any way at all. Approaching the cameras slowly, a malicious grin spreads across his face.
Alex begins to speak in a low, but ominous tone. “Last week left no doubt in anyone’s mind that when and if I do end up cashing in and taking the Invictus champion to task for giving me what I’m owed… he’s going to be forking over that title belt as quickly as he can. And this week leaves no doubt in my, or anyone else’s mind, that someone is getting the raw end of the deal.”
Alex scoffs and continues. “Since Night of the Immortals, two months, I’ve sat with a contract in my hands. Since Night of the Immortals, I’ve been chomping at the bit to take what I’ve been owed. And here I sit, watching a wealthy, arrogant, asshole using his money and power to bully his way into my spot, and get what I’m owed. And it seems there wasn’t a lot I could fucking do about it.”
Atwater’s grin spreads across his face, the hatred clearly showing in his eyes. “So with that being said, and my highly unusual level of hostility…” Alex’s face takes on a grim look as the grin fades “It looks like your ignorant ass picked a really bad time to walk through the doors and end up on a pay-per-view card.”
Atwater pauses for a moment and ponders his next words carefully. “There are times in this business when you’re presented with an opportunity to do something that benefits the business. There are times in this business where you’re shown why you really love getting in the ring and doing what you’re doing. And this week is certainly one of those weeks… because the fans are going to get what the hell they paid for out of me, that’s for damn sure.”
Atwater shakes his head. “Rob, I know you think I’m going to come out here and freak out because you dared to talk down to a soldier. Fact is, you’re absolutely right, you’re an American… you have a first amendment right to say any fool ass thing you want to say. And everyone has the right, just like you did telling me to shut the fuck up… to call you a fucking tool and not give a flying fuck about anything you do.”
Atwater laughs. “You know who cared about Rob Diamond not being on IWF television?”
There’s a long pause as Atwater taps his foot and stares at the camera. He looks down at his watch after a long, awkward ten seconds. “Anyone? Anyone at all? Did anyone miss hearing every dumb catchphrase from the nineties, self aggrandizement, and some punk bitch trying to act like he’s a lot fucking tougher than he actually is?”
Atwater pauses for another couple of seconds. “Nope, that’s what I thought. No one gave a flying fuck you were gone. And no one is going to give a flying fuck that you’re here now, other than you’re walking into the ring with as you so eloquently put it… a professional hitman. No one gives a flying fuck that you’re here, other than you’re about to get your ass whooped on television in front of the world by a man that the IWF fans love. I could dress my momma up to play your role and the fans would still be just as happy. ”
Atwater continues on with a zealous fervor “Let’s be completely honest, I could call you Rob Diamond, or any other number of assorted, get a bucket of 800 for a ten spot, goofball assholes that populate this sport. You’re no different than the run of the mill wrestler that thinks he’s cute and clever. You were better off at home, as you so put it… getting drunk and watching asian girls gyrate for you. That’s a much more productive use of your time. That’s a much more productive use of everyone else’s time for you.”
Alex snickers a little bit. “In fact, you two go perfectly together actually. A couple of dumb bitches with self esteem issues that take it in the butt with minimal lube in a desperate attempt to find the love daddy never gave you. See, cockbreath… not that hard. ”
Alex shrugs and continues. “Now, I know the concept of someone caring about something other than themselves is a really scary and foreign concept for you. I know that when someone like me actually tries to educate the world and show a social conscience; something deep inside you gets really jealous. You need to lash out, and that’s okay Rob. I understand. I’m not mad at you for it. I’m not mad at you for being so ignorant to try to use my military service as a ruse to bait me into a screaming match.”
Alex laughs. “I’m not that guy. I’m not that stupid. I’m not you.”
Alex continues after a short pause to left his words sink in. “It’s fine, Rob, that you can’t handle the truth. It’s fine that you don’t have the guts to actually get up and do something about the things going on in the world. You tell me I’m doing nothing, but that’s where you’re wrong. We both have the same platform. We both reach millions of people all over the world. Millions in America alone, and millions more in oppressed countries all over the world.”
Alex laughs. “And each week, I give the people hope. I give them courage to stand up and fight back. I give them a voice that tells them they aren’t alone in this fight. That someone else is getting fucked by the big guy, but refuses to back down. I speak out against injustice and try to help level the playing field for everyone. I show them someone is fighting for them… fighting for what they really hold dear. And each week, what do you give them, Rob?”
Alex shakes his head and rolls his eyes, showing how unamused he is. “AIDS jokes and telling people to suck your dick.”
Alex laughs mockingly and continues. “I get why you don’t like what I say. When you look in the mirror, and then you look at me… you see everything you can’t be. I don’t have to lie, cheat, and steal to get to the top of this business. I’m just fucking better than you. I’m just going to out work you every step of the god damn way. And that drives you insane. It drives you insane that you couldn’t be this honorable and survive in this world. It makes you really fucking salty that the billygoat couldn’t ever dream to be as talented as me on my worst day in the god damn ring.”
Alex smirks. “That’s why you have to resort to all those tactics to get what you want. It’s not because it makes you great… it’s because at the end of the day, that’s all you really got. I know all of those dirty tricks… I just don’t need them. I don’t need the extra leverage, because I’m that good. And everyone knows it. I could have taken the nice easy path. I could have done what you’ve done and sat at home this week and jerked off and rested up for the next round in Heir to the Throne…”
Alex smiles. “But damn if my red blooded American work ethic wouldn’t let me slack off like a dumb shit frat boy.”
Alex continues after a moment. “Damn if the siren song of this god damn business drags me to the ring like a moth to a god damn bug zapper. I just couldn’t resist. So I called, I demanded, I begged to be put in the ring against anyone… because I wanted to tear someone’s head off and show the world that the American Assassin will never falter and never back down. That’s when they threw your dumb ass to the wolves and destined your return to the ring and this company to be an utter slaughter.”
Alex takes a step closer to the camera and his eyes grow more intense “At the end of the day, all you really are to me, is another target in my cross hairs. And you’re not a very big one at that. You’re about as ugly a sight as Eddie Black was. And we both know how that one ended. Where is he at Rob? He ain’t here. Maybe you should call him and ask him what lengths I’m willing to go to, just to get the job done.”
Alex smirks. “Maybe you should call Jack Gaither and ask him what the fuck I’ll do to someone to walk away with a win. Or did you not watch Bloody Assizes? Or did you not see the huge and gaping hole in your logic. Call me a killer of women and children, and whole heartedly mean it… and then think there’s going to be some shred of hope that you’ll do something in that ring to get a win that I won’t do.”
Alex laughs and looks into the cameras as he gets very close. “You go ahead and be stupid and think that, Rob. You think you know what’s going to happen, and you painted well… a shitty picture of it. But I actually do know what’s going to happen. And it doesn’t end with you summing up the entire heel run of the fucking yoga schmuck.”
Atwater’s tone gets far more grim and ominous “It ends with you finding out the bitter sting of what oppression really looks like. It ends with a decadent, arrogant, fool feeling the boot of a soldier crushing his fucking jaw and knocking him unconscious.”
Alex nods “It ends with the stereotypical American douchebag, getting a good old fashioned American ass whooping, manufactured and shipped direct from Liberty Hill.”
Alex reaches up and shuts off the camera and the feed goes to snow and then goes dead.
Preventing Winter: Chapter 09
As Alex walked up to Brian, he could see the look on Brian’s face. There were a shit ton of questions and not a lot of answers coming from anyone. As Alex saw it, they were stuck doing whatever the spooks wanted at this point; but there was something ringing in the back of his head that told him the spook they were dealing with was not to be trusted. Spooks, as a general rule, were never to be trusted. They plied their tradecraft in deception; their bread and butter being that they were untrustworthy. As Alex pondered this thought, he questioned if his distrust was because of his position or if he had sensed something off about the man from the jump.
“What’s the fucking deal, Alex?” Brian asked, clearly exasperated by the recent chain of events. “We’re just walking away from this shit?”
“We don’t have a lot of choices at the moment, Bri.” Alex said, shifting his eyes in the direction of James Morgan, the CIA guy.
“Oh great, the spook said jump and you went for it.” Brian said, bitching like an older brother at Alex.
“It’s more fucking complicated than that, Brian. You should know that.” Alex responded tensely.
“Gentleman, the clock is ticking. We don’t have time for you two ladies to work out your marital issues.” Morgan said, cutting through their conversation.
“He’s right, Brian, we need to get wheels up.” Alex said, sounding none too pleased with his own statement.
“We better go get Leo and Mikey then.” Brian said. “C’mon.”
“I’m going with you both.” Morgan said.
Brian and Alex both stopped and turned around, casting evil glares at the man from the CIA. James Morgan has seen it all. Being the station chief in a very hostile part of the world, he had been threatened more than once; and had survived more than one attempt on his life. There were a lot of men that he was prone to ignore, but the looks from Brian and Alex caused Morgan to stop in his tracks. He knew vicious attack dogs when he saw them; and the two of them looked like they were ready to strike.
“No you’re fucking not.” Brian responded with sheer aggression.
“Hey, whoa…” Morgan held up his hands, trying to play things cool. “I’m just trying to protect my assets and make sure everyone gets out of here smoothly. You guys are too important.”
“We survived this, we’re armed. We can take care of ourselves.” Brian said in a very condescending tone. “Thanks.”
Morgan knew when to back off, and as much as he didn’t like walking away and leaving them to their own devices for any length of time; he knew that he was going to have to play this one carefully. Things were unraveling on the ground, and the only way he’d be able to manage the perception of this disaster was going to be to start at the source. It was his job to debrief them anyway, and he could manipulate the reports to show what he wanted the world to see. This was, after all, his part of the world. And there would be nothing that stood between him, his fortune, and his retirement on a beach in south east asia.
As Alex and Brian marched away to find Leo and Mikey, Alex took a moment to compose his thoughts. Brian was jabbering about how he hated getting pulled from the fight already; but Alex was tuning him out as the puzzle pieces started to drop into place and he started to formulate a game plan. Alex approached where Leo and Mike were sitting, both of them looking like they were about ready to crash. It had certainly been a long night, and they were all in need of relief from the stress of battle. Alex heard Brian speaking before he could open his mouth.
“We just got fucking pulled! Can you believe this shit?” Brian said, his perpetual energy showing when everyone else seemed beat.
“Dude, who put horse crank in your coffee mug?” Mike Rohmberg asked Brian.
“I’m pissed!” Brian snapped.
“Brian, shut up.” Alex said.
“What?” Brian asked incredulously.
“You heard me.” Alex said, holding up a finger.
The look on Alex’s face said it all. They had all seen it before, and knew what it meant. Alex had the ability to connect dots that a lot of people missed, and as they walked away, something was burning at the back of his head. And Brian’s angry babbling had sparked the wheels turning and the light bulb to illuminate over his head. Alex’s look turned to one of slight puzzlement as he tilted his head and looked at Brian.
“You didn’t threaten the spook did you?” Alex asked him, trying to clearly remember everything that had happened in the last five minutes.
“No. I wanted too, but I figured you’d whack me upside the head and tell me to shut up.” Brian said.
“Morgan let us walk away really easily.” Alex said. “Leo, you worked with some spooks that time you got sheep-dipped… do they ever let assets walk freely when they’re HVT’s and have a high level of information that would be deemed classified?”
“Not without someone pulling a gun. And even then, you’re still probably being tailed and checked up on.” Leo said.
“What are you saying, Alex?” Brian asked.
“I’m saying I don’t trust this fucking guy. Something seems off.” Alex said.
“Maybe he just sucks at his job. He is a station chief. He probably spends his time behind a desk” Mike said.
“No, that’s not the way it works with these guys, Mikey.” Leo started. “You don’t get to be station chief over here by sucking at your job. No, this guy is good… really good. He’s probably done a lot of really nasty shit and deals with a lot of really shitty people. “
“You think he’s got eyes and ears on us now?” Brian asked.
“Do we give a fuck?” Alex asked
“How hostile were you guys with him?” Leo asked.
“Brian was a little forceful, but… it’s Brian.” Alex said with a little laugh, not having to say much else.
“Hey, what does that mean?!” Brian asked, his voice getting uncharacteristically high with indignation
“It means you’re a violent asshole.” Mike said with a laugh.
“Nothing this guy doesn’t get out of his own people, Leo.” Alex said.
“You’re right, Alex. I smell bovine fecal matter.” Leo said.
“Colonel Martin is right though… we gotta play nice. Once we do, we can go home and get to work.” Alex responded. “Nothing about our suspicions, nothing about what Sheik Douchebag babbled about. Cold and clinical. If he’s rotten, it could come back to haunt a lot of people over here and everywhere else.”
Everyone nodded and kept their tacit agreement silent. They were a unit, or if they had actually taken the time to examine it, a more dysfunctional family than a group of co-workers. As different as all of them were as individuals, they all seemed to share the same mind set about their work and the way they went about it. There was an implicit trust between every man standing there. It was easy to have that kind of trust when you had taken bullets for each other and proven that you’d sacrifice everything to make sure they continued their day for even another second.
As they marched towards James Morgan, their weapons in tow; there was an air of their resolve in the air. Alex looked at the chopper and then back at Morgan. He pointed at the chopper, and as soon as he did, Morgan gave the orders to get the rotors turning again. As they walked up, Morgan smiled at Alex and extended his hand again for a hand shake. As he did, Alex took his hand, not crushing his fingers this time. Morgan smiled up at him and gave him a polite nod.
“You boys sort out what you needed to sort out?” James Morgan asked.
“Well, Morgan… if that’s your real name, I would assume so.” Alex said with a distrustful smile stapled to his face.
“Good, we need to get moving. Sooner we get you debriefed, the sooner you boys can get on home and collect your payday and the lofty reward that comes with Al-Saleem’s head.” Morgan said, ushering them towards the chopper.
There it was, there was the first play, and Alex could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Morgan was all too eager to get this done and move on. Alex was filing it all away, and making a note to give Colonel Martin a call and leave him a message when he got back to the states. There was something up here, and he could smell it. Climbing onto the chopper, Alex and company were handed flight helmets. The whir and noise of the rotors and props powering up and lifting them off the earth drowned out every drop of other sound and for the first time; Alex was happy to have what he deemed to be peace.
Well howdy there pardner.