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The light tinkering of wind chimes opens his eyes. Looking around, he sees the charming little living room, desk in the right corner, sofa in the center. Looking further right, he sees the almost paint-like green leaves of the trees swaying in the breeze outside the sliding porch door.
He looks down. Blue hair. A woman is leaning against him, the feeling of her body against his just registering in his mind. He wraps his arm around her, the touch of her body thrilling his senses, if only for a moment. She sighs contently.
"*Kht*Mrgnfrnwrtgn"
He faintly hears the wind picking up through the leaves outside, the chimes clamoring in response. For the moment however, he does not care, his mind focusing on the lady in his embrace.
Minutes possibly pass, he can not tell.
"*Kht*Regrhektrahlgd"
He feels the rumbling. Distant thunder. Rain starts to fall outside. He sighs. Why did he have to leave the radio on? He looks at her.
If only I can see her face
"RogerComingInOn*Kht*ZuluOneEcho"
"Nooo," she says, grabbing his shirt tighter, "please don't go."
The rain becomes heavier, rapping against the roof more and more. He feels the thunder in the distance come closer and closer.
"I'm sorry," he says,
"Maybe someday. Somehow. But not today. Not for
[Redacted]
[Classified]
"Chariot 2 coming in for a landing. Three seconds."
For the briefest moment, he can feel her phantom with his right arm. Clenching his fist, he flexes, and the moment passes. Shaking his head, Dozer lightly taps his left palm against his forehead, the soft blows dampened by his watch cap.
Watch cap? What are you, a flatlander? It's a tuque, dangit, a tuque!
He smiles lightly at the reflexive thought.
Feeling the VTOL's wheels touch down, his well trained hands go through an often used routine of checking his gear. For an almost panicky second his right hand can't find the grip to his rifle, until his brain reminds it that it was left back in Japan, and that the it's brother will be waiting for him on the other side of the ramp.
As said ramp drops, Dozer notices the ground crew rushing up, lugging behind them the various equipment needed to prep the Osprey for a near immediate takeoff. Walking off, he could see why, as a squad rushed out in full battle rattle to replace him and the others riding with him. Another soldier, in fatigues and holding a clipboard, wavs at him and the other passengers to where they need to go. In Dozer's case, he is directed to one of the various field tents in the makeshift base.
Ducking in, he sees the table, maps strewn across it, radios and field computers holding down the paper.
"Watchdog, this is Lockpick, how copy?"
Standing over the table, typing away at on of the laptops, was Jazz in his field fatigues. Looking up to notice Dozer entering, the African-American holds up a finger to indicate needing a second before reaching for a radio. Dozer complies, standing at parade rest.
"Lockpick, Watchdog copies, send traffic."
"Watchdog, Lockpick has reached Waypoint Charlie, break, eyes on contacts, grid Gamma Seven Two, two groups foot mobiles roughly squad size, break, Plan Alpha unsustainable, switching to Plan Bravo, over."
Looking over, Dozer notices an large unopened gun case in the corner.
"Understood, Plan Bravo in effect, break, Hold position, execute to follow, over."
"Wilco, out."
Walking over to the case, Dozer notices the marking.
XM31? What the heck it that? Looking back, Dozer catches Jazz's eye. Dozer indicates the case with a quirked eyebrow. Jazz nods and gives the thumbs up before returning to the radio.
"Chariot 1, Watchdog, head to grid Hotel Seven Four and hold, over."
"Watchdog, Chariot 1 copies, heading to grid Hotel Seven Four, out."
Reaching down, Dozer undoes the latches, and lifts the cover up. Inside lies a row of rifles, most likely fresh from the factory. The first thing that catches his eye, however, is the iconic stock.
Oh no way! They got their hands on these?!
Remington ACRs. Running his hand over on of them, Dozer notes the adjustable stock is fixed.
IC version, too! Must be why it's labeled an experimental number.
"Lucked out with that case," Jazz said,
"Remington's been in a bit of a bind lately, and needed somewhere to dump those off. We were able to get there first."
"All units, Cassandra, flash priority. Echo Oscar Sierra, I repeat Echo Oscar Sierra, how copy?"
"Watchdog copies, out. *click* Lockpick, Sledge, this is Watchdog. Cassandra confirms Echo Oscar Sierra, acknowledge."
"Lockpick copies."
"Sledge copies."
Carefully lifting one of the rifles out of the case, Dozer gently turned it over, observing all the little details of its craftmanship.
"Chariot 1, sitrep."
"Chariot 1 is holding at grid Hotel Seven Four, angels 300, waiting for go order, over."
"Roger that Chariot 1, execute to follow, break. Be advised Lockpick Plan Bravo is in effect, over.
"Wilco, out."
Jazz sighed and checked his watch, cricking his neck a little. Dozer understood. Cool as radio chatter was, it could get a little tiring after a while.
"Lockpick, sitrep."
"On your go, Watchdog."
"All units, execute, execute, execute."
"Wilco, out."
Jazz leaned back, rubbing his face. Now was the time for waiting. All the soldiers out there knew what they were doing, and didn't require micromanaging. He then looked over at Dozer, and chuckled.
"Going to ask that thing out to dinner next?"
"Hey man, this 'thing' is practically a collector's item now. Heck, we'd probably get more use out of selling these than actually usin' 'em."
"So you don't mind if we sell them?"
Dozer then hugged the rifle he was holding close to his chest.
"Don't you dare." Mine. These are mine.
Jazz laughed.
"Unfortunately, we won't be able to field them yet. Need to grow that paper trail a little."
"Did you call me in to give them the once over?" Dozer pulled back on the bolt, checking the chamber.
"Unfortunately no, so I'm going to have to ask you to say goodbye to your new bestie."
Sighing, Dozer put the rifle back in, and closed the case.
"I understand your brother was a cop?" Jazz said, crossing his arms.
"Yeah, retired. Last I checked he was riding his way towards Florida, working his way through the female population along the way."
"And you said your family liked to watch police procedurals while you were growing up?"
"Some of the more schlocky ones, yeah. We knew it wasn't entirely accurate, but it was fun to watch. Why?"
"Was wondering if maybe some of that cop work might have rubbed off on you."
"Probably would have become an MP if it did."
"Fair enough. How do you feel about going back to the States and becoming one?"
Dozer leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table.
"In what capacity, exactly?"
"Don't worry, we don't expect you to be a beat cop or anything. Papers are still being filed, but we think we can get you onto a SWAT team somewhere."
Dozer squinted, his mind trying to process all the information running through it.
"I'm almost afraid to ask what you expect me to do."
"The plan's still fluid at the moment."
"You mean all the planners are drunk, sir?"
Jazz laughed.
"That, that right there is what we expect you to do. Just be yourself. No overcomplicated tricks, just react how you would normally. You'll understand as things play out, but for now, this is all you need..."
Reaching down, Jazz pulls out a file. He then tosses it over to Dozer. Dozer opens it.
March 2014
Federal Bureau of Investigations - Miami Field Office - Armory
Miramar, FL
"Agent Costa," Dozer mumbled as he marked down in his book the completion of another job. Picking up the M4, he walks over to the rack. Before he gets there, he hears someone clear their throat at the window. Dozer looks over.
"Oh hey Special Agent Cho. I finally get the trigger where you wanted it?" Dozer asked as he carefully seated the M4 into place.
"Oh, more than satisfactory, Bill. More than satisfactory," Cho leans on the window shelf.
Walking over to the window, Dozer rested his elbows on the inside table.
"So how can this humble gun bunny be of service to FBI SWAT today?"
Cho looked away briefly, scratching the side of his nose, before looking back.
"Look, Bill, I know we didn't start off on the strongest foot."
"Noooooo. How could you possibly come to that conclusion?" Dozer deadpanned.
"Hey, I
understand, alright? You happy? You get packed up and shipped down here, only to get dumped unceremoniously into the armory. I get that. But you've also got to see things from my angle. Whatever you did overseas..."
Cho then looked around quickly, before leaning in closer.
"...Really pissed Pitfall off something fierce. Everyone felt it was best if you were down here."
"Y'know, the guys on breacher duty are complaining the shotguns don't ker-chack intimidatingly enough, so I'm going to have to go work on that..."
"I'm a guy down," Cho finally relented, "and it doesn't look like I'm going to get a replacement for a while. Some of the guys have said you've been practicing some of the drills in your off time."
"Well within the rules."
"Yes, well within the rules. What I'm asking is that you join my team, at least for now," he held up a finger, "and
no promises, but if you perform well enough you might find yourself in a more permanent position."
Dozer stands there staring blankly for a few seconds. Then, wordlessly reaching down with his off hand, he lifts up a full duffel bag, and plops it onto the table.
"When do we start?"
Last edited April 2, 2019 6:03 pm
