"Anderson Control, this is White House 3, requesting permission to lift off."
"White House 3, this is Anderson Control, you have permission to lift off."
"Roger, gonna kick some Trinity ass, be back momentarily." I lifted the AH-64 Apache Longbow D off landing pad 15 at Anderson Air Force Base.
My gunner/copilot and best friend since I joined the USAF, Major Tom "Keggie" Edams, commented that he was glad he wasn't on the ground with a Car-15. Those "Trinity" bastards are extremely brutal, even to civilians. I agreed.
When we were over the White House, we kept moving, Keggie with a pair of binoclulars, me checking the radar, even though we knew that when they were in sight of the White House, we'd be contacted. They actually worded it "If". If. What a silly word for that, I thought. Really, the President should be getting all of his important stuff and getting the hell out of there.
"All the White House is just an old building, who cares if they have it." I asked Keggie.
"What about the Pentagon? That's the most important place in Washington, it's got all the generals and VIPs, except Mr President down there." he said, nodding his head at the White House.
"I hate it when you respond like that."
"Oh, no, I FULLY agree with you. We should be packing up all our important stuff, and setting a nuke to explode in three or four days, hopefully taking down the Trinity Command."
"WH3, this is Anderson Control. You should see the advancing Trintity forces... NOW."
And see them we did. Over one million 7-foot-tall-vicious-as-hell-bastards-with-two-inch-long-lower-teeth. All in a circle around the White House, and, in turn, our postion. We were so screwed, it was almost funny.
"Aye, we see them. Mind sending a few dozen B-52 units? Armed with nukes should do." I said. Keggie wasn't even saying anything, just staring with his mouth open.
"WH3, did you say a few dozen B-52 units?"
"Affirmative, AC."
An ungided missile flew past us, and I told Keggie to do something, even firing the 30mm cannon would do.
"Negative, WH3, we've got a situation here."
"Shit."
"That pretty much sums up the situation." Keggie commented, firing the cannon. "Well, they just gave us a job. Die as honorably as we can."
I started manuvering, firing missiles and the 30mm gun while sidesweeping left, over the White House. Keggie radioed for a transport chopper to get the President and most of the White House staff out.
It was suicide. A pair of Apaches vs over a million Trinity, even if shooting us down wasn't easy. Us, and the other Apache, White House 4, must have killed a couple thousand between us. Not that it made even a small dent.
"WH3, this is WH4, we've taken damage, a rotor took a plasma round, it's gong to blow off unless I land. We're pulling out."
"WH4, this WH3, Roger, roger, pull out. We'll do without you."
We stayed. And fired off almost all of our armaments, even well over half of the twelve hundred exploding bullets it could carry.
"Anderson Tower, this is WH3, MAYDAY, MAYDAY! WE ARE GOING DOWN! MAYDAY!" I yelled. No response.
"Oh, SHIT! Strap in, Keggie, We're gonna die!"
"No. I'm not dying. I got a family back home. Pull your Chevrons off."
"WHAT?"
"Just do it."
"BRACE YOUSELF FOR IMP...!" I yelled."Ohh. Man.. I think I broke something."
Next thing I know, I'm being dragged out of my Apache, and being examined by a medic.
"He's got a broken rib. I thought we had orders to capture a human officer intact." The medic was saying.
"We did." A soldier replied. "He looks pretty intact, aren't you, human?" He kicked me.
"Do that again and I'll rip your ztyping nuts out and make you eat them, asshole." I said angrily. "Before I shoot you with a shotgun in the chest and leave you to die."
"Stop. Mr Marat, you should relax, this'll take all the pain away." The medic said, injecting me with a drug of some sort.
"How.. you.. know.. m.. name..?" I asked before falling under the drug.
The Medic didn't asnwer, instead hitting the soldier in the stomach.
"If he dies, I'll do what he said he'd do to you."
Another chapter, later. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
I woke up in a cell. It's not really a cell, it probably was a White House staffer's room. Minus most of the furniture. It had a bathroom, that was private.
I didn't know anybody there, but from the looks of the clothing they're wearing, I'd say US Marines and White House personnel.
"Did the President make it out?" I asked. "And has anybody seen my co-pilot? A little taller than me, brown hair, green eyes, with the outline of four chevrons on his shoulders."
"No. To both questions." A man in a blue suit said.
"Oh. Damn. Well, I'm Lt Colonel Keith Marat, I was in the friggin Longbow D above the White House. And you?" I asked, holding my hand out.
"Ted Johnson, President of the United States of America." The guy in the blue suit said, shaking my hand. "Not that it still exists, after this war."
"Sir, we're the US of A. We don't give up when they take the White House, do we?" I asked.
"Seems we do." commented a Marine.
"And you are..?" I asked?
"Sargent John Simpson, US Marines."
"And you shot.. How many? One-fifty of whatever the strongest currency is after this war ends says you didn't shoot even half of what I did." I said, smirking.
"You're on." He said, angrily.
"You, sir, are an idiot. I can see that you only used one clip, so your max is.. what? 50?." I commented. Idiot, I thought.
"How the HELL should you know how many clips you're issued?" He was starting to look angry.
"My dad was a Marine. He kept a copy of a manual, I was bored one day, & I read it. Kept me busy for a few days." I replied. Still grinning. "I even tried to clean his old M16A2 rifle. I got spanked for that, but that's besides the point."
"What the ztype? You are one VERY strange man."
"I know. It's one of my finer qualities. My money, please, Sargent."
"What money? You can't have shot more than forty Trinity."
"You friggin idiot, I was protecting your ass while you sat around drinking. I was in the friggin Apache Longbow D over the east side of the White House, the one that stayed in this sector while the other one limped back to Anderson."
"HEY!" Another Marine, this one a Lieutenant
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Stop arguing. We lost contact with Anderson before that Longbow left. And your rank means nothing here, you fuckin flyer."
"My copilot never liked Marines. I know why, now. Fine, just gimme my one-fifty bucks."
"Negative, you ztyping flyer." The nerve of that bastard.
Fine.. I'll drop.."
"ENOUGH!" POTUS said. "Simpson, give him his GOD DAMNED money. Colonel, can you call in any pilots with loaded planes?"
"Uhh.. I don't know. I might, if they aren't jamming the radio frequincies and I still have one."
"You should, the guards didn't seem to frisk you." The Marine Lieutenant said.
"And you would know this.. How?" I asked.
"Dude, they walked in with you on a strecher, they set it on the floor, and they moved you on the floor gently."
"Seriously? Wow." Damn, I guess being an officer helps with the Trinity. ALOT.
I checked my pockets and found both a folding pocket-knife and a radio.
"Tell me the White House wasn't reinforced with some kind of special metal which absorbs radio transmissions."
"Not that I know of, no." The president replied.
"Oh, good. I call in what? An airstrike? A Navy bombardment? The US Marines?" I asked.
"B3 runs around the White House, with A10s strafing the White House itself." POTUS said confidently.
"And what if an A-10 hits us with his strafing run? And what are B3s?" I asked.
"You broadcast a radio signal saying 'Don't hit this room', maybe?" POTUS said. "The B3 is a new bomber were testing at Area 51. Virtially invisible on radar, invisible on a clear day. I mean invsible. If it was hovering a hundred feet over you, you could not see it."
"Ah, I see. And I have the athauority to do this since.. when?"
"If they ask for athority, tell me. I'll tell them." POTUS seemed awefully confident this will work.
"Ok, then..:
"This is Lt Colonel Keith Marat, serial number 05860, of Anderson Air Force Base, calling any USAF units in the area, requesting a B3 strike at Alpha-Beta North and Delta-Zulu west, over."
"This is Anderson Backup Base, did you say requesting a B3 strike at Alpha-Beta North and Delta-Zulu west, over?"
"That's affirmative, over."
"05860, that is the White House, over."
"Affirmat. I'm at the White House, currently. POTUS wants A10s strafing the White House, and B3s strafing the area around the White House, over."
Another Chapter later. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
"POTUS wants? No offense intended, but leading armies isn't really his thing. He should leave that to the generals."
"He's the president." I responded.
"Yes, but I can't do that. Any A10 units we've got don't have ammo. Those that do are badly depleted."
At that moment, a pair of Trinity guards came in.
"You, in the suit, come with me." said one of the guards.
"The rest of you, come with me." said the other.
Simpson refuses. He grabs a pair of clips and attacks the guards.
"SARGENT, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW." the Marine Lieutnant yelled. I run forward and grab his left arm, dragging him back, or trying to. He elbows me in the face and keeps attacking the guard. A pair of Marines run and do the same. I back off, looking for a tissue box.
While that was happening, the Lieutenant grabs a clip from his vest and smashes it against the head of the other guard, knocking him out and ruining the clip. I grab his weaapon and whack the other guard with it. We're free, but almost totally unarmed.
Simpson was hurt, even if he was an asshole, he's still a trained US Marine, and I'm just a flyboy, ultimalty making him the more valuable person.
"Well. Now what. We're free. But all we have are a pair of plasma guns. And some Car-15 clips." I said, annoyed at the accent the Sargent had given me.
"We move to the armory, and look for any more prisioners." The Lieutnant said, as if it was THE ony thing to do in this kind of situation.
"What about these guys? They're not dead, just knocked out." Another Marine I didn't know asked.
"Lock them in a closet or bathroom?" I suggested, idly, not meaning it. "Well, whatever we do, we gotta do it fast. They've gotta be late for the places we were supposed to be shipped to."
"Yeah. Just stick them in the bathroom for now. Make sure the water's running." Simpson said.
"Screw running water, just put them in there."
Half an hour later, when we finished lugging them in to the bathroom.
"I hope one of you Secret Service guys know where the armory is. I sure as hell don't." I said. "I've neven been within a mile of the White House before today."
"Yeah, asshole, we know the White House well enough to get to the armory." Sargent Simpson was being himself.
"Well?" I asked.
"Fine, let the Ell-Tee tell us, I don't know where it is."
"Well?" I prompted the Lt.
We were moving, and he was guiding us.
"I know where it is, you ztyping flyboy."
"Good."
Half an hour later, we were nearing the armory.
"We almost there? This plasma gun seems to be dying." I asked.
"Almost."
"Good. I don't like these friggin plasma rifles, they're.. strange.. Almost as if.. they're living.."
"Then give me it and use your friggin knife."
"Quiet. We're there. And it seems to be occupied." The LT was competent, after all.
"Are they crazy..?" I asked rhetoicly. Using the armory as a prison?
They had a energy field blocking half of the armory off that was keeping the prisioners in place. That half had no rifles. The other half had three guard and the rifles, two who were screwing with Car15s.
"On my count of three, we charge in and hassel them. Keith, you any good with computers?"
"Umm.. Why? Kind of." I responded, confused.
"You take that field down. Let's hope you can before they kill any of us or alert the rest of the building."
At that moment, we heard the two guards we'd locked in the bathroom yelling the prisoners were lose.
"Too late for that."
"GO!"
I run in, shooting at the guards, then giving it to the bewildered Marine beside me and shutting the field down.
"Marines, grab a rifle and take up positions by the door, inside it. You, Keith, you, Simpson, and you, Avery, get those tables set up as Defense positions."
"Aye, sir." came from the Marines.
"Yes, Liuetenant." I said, sarcasticly.
A Marine prisioner asked another marine beside him who I was.
"I'm a USAF Lt Colonel, dumbass. Don't you recognize a pilot's uniform?"
"He's a Longbow driver.", snickered another Marine. "All bark, no bite."
I grabbed a Car 15 and swung it like a baseball bat, smashing the chair beside him.
"'All bark, no bite'? Sure about that?" I asked. "I was the Longobw over the East side of the White House, codename White House 3."
"HEY, BREAK IT UP!" The LT seemed to finally realize what had happened. "Next time I see you arguing with a Marine again, I WILL have you court martialed so much your head will be spinning for a week afterwards. That, and you just wrecked a Car15."
"Fine, I'll use it, I'll take front position." I said, quite angry. "Please, sir, get me the hell away from these assholes."
By this time, most of the Marines had found this argument boring and had returned to their tasks.
"Just a flyboy getting his ego stepped on." A marine commented.
Now, we could hear Trinity forces, including some really nasty machines that flew around and killed humans with a chainsaw, running towards the armory. I grabbed a table and dragged it through the door, against the wall, with two of the legs against the wall. Another two Marines did the same behind and beside me.
By this time, we could see them coming down the hall, just the machines at first.
I crouched behind the table, waiting for some of the machines to get into my sight. That, and badly scared, worse than when I'd been in the Longbow. At least in there they can't rip you open with their teeth easily.
A three-group delta formation of them hovered within my sight. I counted to ten, then fired. I missed the one in the middle and left, but I got the one on the right, by sheer luck and the recoil of the weapon. One swooped down at the Marine behind another table, and the other went at me. I shot it with three rounds. Twenty out of thirty rounds left. I realized that I hadn't gotten extra ammo. Shit.
I crouched and looked over the table, looking for the third. I couldn't see it. I then I remember it had diven at a Marine. I hadn't heard any screaming, so I asked if anyone had gotten it over my radio.
The Marine beside me had.
He asked who this was.
Smirking, I replied "White House 3." Technically, I am WH3, that's my squad number.
Another chapter later. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
"Who? Who hell is White House 3?" The Marine behind me radioed to the command room.
"WH3 is that flyboy in front. The guy that smashed a chair."
"Oh. Good at anything?"
"Besides flying a Longbow and pissing big guys off, no, not really." I replied over the radio, smirking. "Yes, I heard the whole conversation. I know Marine radio frequincies."
"Cut the chatter, girls. This in't a 6th grade dance." That damned Marine lieutenant.
"Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, can you get someone to toss a couple clips down? I forgot to get some ammo." I admitted.
"Negative, WH3. Spare clips are for trained soldiers only, flyboy."
"ztype you, Lieutenant. That wasn't a request, that's an order. I just worded it to play nice. NOW THROW SOME CLIPS DOWN NOW, SOLDIER!" I pull rank when nessecary.
"Sending Airmail, Sir." Not some snotty-assed lieutenant, this time, a loyal and very repectful Sargent.
"Thanks, Marine." The clip filled webbing landed about a foot from the table, and skidded into my hand.
A Marine in the back with a pair of binocluars said over the radio
"Incoming Trinity forces. Lieutenant Forman says to hold fire 'til well in range."
"This is Lt Colonel Keith Marat. Fire at will. Conserve ammo as much as possible."
Lt Forman wasn't happy about having his orders countermanded by a flyboy, even a Lt colonel.
"Hold FIRE! CEASE FIRING!" He broadcasted loudly.
One or two ceased firing, but most continued firing, one even lugging a M60 to mount on a table, for a turret. Even those who had stopped firing only stopped for a minute or two, then continued picking off Trinity.
Lt Forman actually came to my table, to tell me to tell them to do as HE said.
"Listen, flyboy, I'm the ranking officer here. I give the orders, not you." Sounding angry now.
"You seem to have lost control of the situation. They followed my orders, and ignored yours." I said, tagging a Trinity attempting to sneak across to our side.
"Right, ell-tee." Privately, I disagreeed. Privately, though.
Lt Forman while crawled back to the command room, I kept shooting any Trinity I decided was in range.
"This is WH3, is anyone running low on ammo?" I asked over the radio.
"Roger that, WH3."
"Restock at the armory. I'll provided a distraction to and back. Over."
"Roger, Marine 8 falling back."
I stood up and sprayed half of a clip at them, forcing most of them down behind their own posts.
"WH3, this is Marine 8. Come in, WH3."
"Roger, Marine 8, this is WH3. Talk to me."
"WH3, I've found a stock of hand grenades and shotguns. What should I do? Over."
"Stay there, I'm falling back."Over the radio. "Marine 7, provide a distraction, I'm falling back!" I said, loud enough for the gunner to start wasting some ammo to distract them.
I crawled back, and stood up right before I walked in the armory. I was hit in the back of the head and fell unconcious. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
I woke up half an hour later, wondering WHAT THE HELL had happened.
The Marines were behind the field, me included. The President was nowhere to be seen.
Lt Forman was slumped in a corner, unconsious.
"What the hell happened?" I asked.
"Sir, I'm Marine 8. Nathan Weston."
"Ok. Now WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED, Marine?" I asked.
"Him." Nate said, nodding at the unconcious Lieutenant. "He hit you with a shotgun when you walked in."
"Then if he hit me, then why is he unconcious?" I asked. "And why are we in the containment field?"
"I hit him with a Car15, and the Marines surrendered, seeing both of their Commanding officers lying on the floor."
"Great. Now what?"
"We wait, I guess."
"For what? The US Marines? Please. We ARE the Marines. The Rangers? They'd never let us forget the shame of having them rescue us. The Air Force? They don't even have an army. The Army? Please. They're occupied with defending their own bases." Nate didn't seem to have much confidence that we'd make it out alive.
"Man, We're the USA. Someone will come for us. Or, the President, more likely. Maybe the Russian Spetznaz." I said, not really beliving it.
"Well, it's nice to know that I'm went from a "friggin flyboy" to a "CO" within half an hour, maybe." My god, do opinions change quickly.
"What do we have for weaponry?" I asked the Marines.
"Unless you have an whole case of shotguns in one of those pockets, pretty much nothing."
"Fine, I got a knife. If they didn't search me." I said.
"Nope, no searches. And I got a knife, I stole it while I walked behind one of the guards." Replied a serious, yet small, Marine.
"That's great. It's not much, but it gives us some Killing power."
The meeting broke up, and I wandered over to the field, wondering what it'll do if you touch it.
"Anyone know what this does to Humans?" I asked.
"Nope. Try it, flyboy." The Marine Lieutenant had woken up.
"You do it, you're a trained Marine lieutenat."
"Damn right, flyboy, and don't you forget it."
I watched him walk over to it, and touch it.
"See, nothing."
He kicked it, and he got zapped with some sort of electric bolt.
"Yeah.. Right.. Nothing at all.." Marines can be funny at times.
"Over here, Nate." I called Nate over.
"Yeah, sir?"
"I'm going to try and go through it, have the Marines follow me if I make it through, I'll need some help with those bastards." Six of them, all armed with plasma rifles. If we succeed, some get plasma rifles and the rest get shotguns and grenades.
"Aye, sir. Marines, over here." _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
I had noticed that LT Forman's foot had gone though the field, zapping him. I'm hoping that I go through, get stunned, and they shut the field down to toss me back in.
I ran at the field full force, going through and getting stunned. I got up and started running, right into the closed door. They shut the field down and tried to get me back in. Tried. I fought long enough to give the Marines enough time to get out.
"STAB ONE OF THEM!" I yelled, hardly being able to breath. Nate did better. He shot one of them with his own rifle.
I grabbed my knife from the pocket and stabbed the guard in the throat. They dropped me and I ran for a shotgun. Picking one up, I said to the Marines.
"Marines, arm up. Grab a gun and as much spare ammo you can comfortably carry."
To the Guards, I said.
"Into the cell. Now. Or I'll shoot you on the spot."
Wisely, they decided not to argue with a "Marine" with a shotgun. They went into the cell, and the rest of the Marines kept them in the until I could get the field up, Simpson wacking two before the field went up. As soon as we went out into the hall, a large squad of Trinity blocked the way off.
"Bravo, Lt Colonel Keith Marat of the United States Air Force. Bravo. Just the kind of officer we need. You'll do fine once you have been tamed." Said a voice over the loudspeaker.
"I'll never work for the Trinity." I replied, evenly, the only thing that showed my anger by the fact that my grip on the shotgun tightened.
"That's what you think, Keith. You'll tame easily. Or die, with all the men you have lead for this short hour."
"I'll die, thank you. Marines, lock & load, fire at will." I said, shooting a Trinity officer in the chest.
We fell back to the tables we had set up as defense positions earlier, getting more with each round fired, with literally two or three Trinity taking the position of each one we kill.
"Sir, we can't keep this up, we're gonna run outta ammo soon." said Nate, who had fallen back to the foremost table with me.
"You're right. Grenades?" I asked.
"Not nearly enough."
"Shit." was my answer.
"Lt Colonel Keith Marat of the United States Air Force, you have the option to surrender now. If all your Marines put down their weapons and walk with their hands up, we won't shoot any of you with real weapons." The loud speaker was being used again.
"Marines, drop your weapons." I shouted. "Empty the shotguns, keep the shells." I said over the radios.
"Si..? Aye, sir." I heard several Marines muttering angrily and confused, but following orders.
Lt Forman wasn't listening. He ran at them with a loaded shotgun, firing.
"Lieutenant, GET BACK HERE!" I shouted. Suprisingly, he didn't. He was caught in so many different plasma beams it wasn't funny. He was almost vaporised.
"Marines, drop your weapons and more forward with your hands in the air." They all complied, not wanting to meet God anytime soon.
They took us back to cell, freed the guards we'd stuck in there, and put us in there, this time leaving twice as many guards as Marines.
Three hours later, they brought in more prisioners, some who were Meklar.
Introductions were given, and I finally met the rest of the Marines.
John "Doe" Green, who had been nicknamed "Doe" becuase he was medium hight, had brown eyes, black hair, and could fit into almost any place in the world at any time.
James "Bond" Somson, who had been nicknamed "Bond" becuase of the fact that he looked like Sean Connery, spoke russian, english, and german with an British accent. That, and a pal of his said he slept with so many women it was almost like it was a James Bond Movie.
Eddy "Clancy" Williams was an extreme fan of books written by Tom Clancy, as well as being James's best friend since Marine Basic.
More Marines, later, and same with another chapter. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
Ken "Editorial" Smith, nicknamed that becuase he read the paper so much, and made so many comments.. it's annoying.
That's the Marines, with the rest of the prisioner being civilians, or Meklars.
"WE DESIGNED YOUR EQUIPMENT. WE KNOW IT BETTER THAN I KNEW MY AH-64 APACHE, BEFORE YOU BASTARDS BLEW IT OUT OF THE SKY! WE WERE YOUR SCIENCE PERSONNEL!" I was angry.. And shouting my ass off.
"What are you doing?" A Meklar walked over, curious.
"Psycological warfare. Really, it's not much help, but it still allows me to blow off some steam."I said giving guard the finger. "If we can get them to think it's useless to fight us, or to even question what they're doing, we win something. Not much, tacticly, but if we can convince them to riot against their officers, we can just sit back and let the bastards tear themselves apart. Or, if you have a grudge against them, go kill some."
"And what if this doesn't work?" He asked, slightly alarmed looking.
"A guard will probably get tired of this and go shoot one of us. Or just kill one, just to scare us. And, unless Earth can prooduce enough M1A2 Abrams tanks and AH-64 Apache Longbows, humanity is screwed. Your race, probably, too." I said, shaking my fist at guard, then giving him the finger.
"Why are you holding your middle finger up at him?" He asked.
"It's a crude way to show someone you hate him. Efficent, but very crude." I replied, showing him a fine example of it.
"Oh, ok, then."
Later that day, we were transferred to different cells, actually more like four or five star hotel rooms. Two or three per room, I was with Eddy "Clancy" Williams and a woman that I'd thought I'd seen on TV. I went over and asked her who she was.
'Only the First Lady of the US, nothing major." she replied, sarcasticly.
"Oh. Well.. Umm.. I'm Lt Colonel Keith Mar..."
"I don't care who you are. I just want to find my husband and get out of here." she interrupted rudely.
"Ok.. then.."
I walked back to Clancy, and told him who she was.
"I never knew she was so.. rude.." I commented to him. "She didn't even want to know who I was."
"Seems to me she think you're just a rude little soldier from god knows where.." Clancy commented.
"I thought I came across as being quite pleasent." I replied. Friggin' politicians.
"So did I."
"You're from the White House, you do something. I'm going to claim the main bed for now." I said, turning away and walking to the bedroom.
"Yeah, right. Like I can do anything more than he can. Friggin flyboys." Clancy whispered to himself. 'Well, gotta try."
I woke up half an hour later, on the floor.
"What the ztype? Can't a flyboy get some sleep on a BED?"
"Hey, quiet. First Lady's sleeping." Clancy whispered.
"Oh, great. And you had to knock me on the floor, why, again?" I asked, whispering now.
"She didn't want to sleep in a bed with a mere pilot. She wanted to shove you off. I stopped her." Clancy replied. "By moving you gently."
"Thanks." Some Marines aren't that bad, and luckily, I got one of them.
"Any other beds?" I asked, still tired from my attempts to escape.
"I dunno, haven't explored the room." Clancy wasn't sure it was a good idea.
"They've probably bugged it. Don't say anything only your unit, the President, and his staff know."
"Aye, sir."
"Anything we can use to get the hell out of this dump? Or any obvious bugging? You check those rooms, I'll check these."
"Aye."
I found out that we had small kitchen (knives not included in this model, obviously), two bathrooms, another two bedrooms, and a main room.
Not much to help us escape. But, there were a box of toothpicks.
"Picky, picky, anyone?" I quietly said when I found them.
Well.. Not much in here. But I still have my knife, half a dozen shotgun shells, and a radio. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
Dude, they don't know Human tech quite well. We developed it, with no financing from them, so.. it confuses the hell outta them. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
I fell asleep in a smaller bed and hoped I wouldn't get shoved on the floor again. I dreamed of a girl I'd had a crush on in 6th grade. Then I moved away and haven't seen her since. I sometimes wonder what happened to her. I wish I'd kept a picture of her.
I woke up half an hour later, to the smell of burnt food, feeling better.
"What's cooking, Clancy?" I asked.
"Glad you asked. Do you know how to cook?" He replied with a question.
"It depends. I can make burgers that are better than military rations and some other stuff." I said, annoyed that I couldn't rememeber much of what dad taught me with cooking.
"Well, then, you try something. I already tried something."
"I can smell it." I coughed. "What did you try to make?"
In the kitchen, I checked what the fridge had. More than enough for burgers.
"Clancy, over here." I called him in here.
"Umm.. Yes?" He sounded nervous.
"No, I'm not going to try & kiss you. I have a girlfriend. Get the rolls, and toast them, not too much, just enough to warm them up. Wash your hands first."
"I wasn't thinking you'd do that. Sure."
Half an hour later, I was eating high quality cheeseburgers.
"Great burgers, Keith."
"Thanks, Clancy."
"Don't call me that, Keith. I hate Tom Clancy books."
"Then why.. what the hell?"
"They're the cheapest books I can find. And by far the best I can afford. That, cook books, or 'something for dummies' books."
"Ok, then." I responded, confused..
"Where'd your nickname come from, anyways?" Ed asked.
"You know Andes Mints? I love'em. I'd always have a package of them in one of my pockets. I wish I still had a package of them. I finished the pack I had with me in my Longbow."
"Anyway we can get out?" Ed asked.
"Besides the bathroom window, no. And that's a 10 foot drop. Plus, what would we do after we get out, Humans aren't allowed on the street except from three to five PM for buying food." I replied, angry that there's nothing we could do.
"We go through the door, break Marines on this floor out, & shoot every Trinity we see. _________________ "Banned" RP here QUICK_EDIT
Joined: 06 Dec 2004 Location: out collecting bounty from "LOL" ninjas
Posted: Wed Aug 31, 2005 6:19 pm Post subject:
i like your idea of the Trinity putting the humans on curfew on thier own planet...hehe, kinda funny. when i get hosted (should be soon) ill have a section where you can continue your story. QUICK_EDIT
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Lt Colonel Keith "Mint" Marat, USAF Longbow pilot
