One Bloody Mission. Violence Action (standard:action, 5100 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jul 06 2020	Views/Reads: 1418/979	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Mercenaries wipe out a rogue Aryan militant camp.

"I hear you, Frenchie. We ain't gonna be picked up till morning. I'll
kill the bitch then," Gorgie spat out, a huge grin bisecting a leering 
black face. "Might's well use her tonight as not." 

"Make damned sure you do." I jumped up, hand on a K-Bar combat knife.
"All it takes is one fuckup and we're up shit creek. That bitch is a 
loose end." I looked over at the girl, in her late teens, wide-eyed and 
gently shaking. Already worse for wear after servicing us for four 
days, she'd heard us arguing. Fuck it. 

Over at the other side of the clearing, near a shallow hole and
collecting flies, lay the bodies of two other captive women. When she 
finished heating our meal, she'd be put to work finishing that fucking 
hole for them ... and herself. After taking care of Gorgie and Sam 
tonight, she'd join her friends in the fucking hole ... and she damned 
well knew it. I couldn't blame her for shaking. 

The three of us had once been six. The mission hadn't worked out too
damned well. Few of them do. 

*** 

A week ago, we'd been dropped into this country. Our job was to be a
quick in-and-out find and destroy. Most of the time we insisted on 
taking our time, planning and rehearsing. This time, though, our 
unknown employer insisted on speed. That meant both a cluster-fuck on 
the ground and more money for we three survivors. Both good and bad, 
that was the result. 

The contract started off normally, our agent gathering us for a meeting
in a bar on the waterfront in Sangatte, Belgium.... 

Philippe, nationality unknown -- as though we give a flying fuck --
doesn't advertise. Still, interested parties such as the American CIA, 
British MI5, French General Directorate for External Security, German 
Stasi and, of course, the Israeli Mossad know how to find him. 

He talks to them, working out terms of a contract, then calls numbers
from his little black book -- myself included. Bear with me, since it's 
vital though restricted info. If Philippe doesn't like me telling you, 
screw him. 

See, then we either meet with the bastard or over the phone. If we agree
to the terms, Philippe gets us together -- and it can be anywhere in 
the frickin' world -- at our own fucking cost, yet. We usually get paid 
in two increments, the first before we leave that meeting, the second 
when we're finished with the project. Hell, some of us need it since 
we've borrowed to simply get to the meeting. 

I live in Paris. By the time I get a call, I'm usually broke and have to
trot over to some place like Bangkok to find Philippe. I can't blame 
the guy, though. Like with Osama, although half the countries in the 
world use his services, other departments of those same nations are out 
to kill the bastard. Philippe moves around a lot. A whole fucking lot. 

In this case, we were hired to wipe out a bunch of assholes threatening
some wealthy connected guy or organization. Somehow, they'd connected 
with Philippe. Who or why? None'a my business. 

The pay was good but the terms crazy. I liked the idea of it being over
quick, since there's a yum-yum back in Paris what points the old pecker 
skyward. She won't wait long, though, and won't fuck unless the table 
next to her bed is covered with the old dooo-raaa-me. 

Those assholes, let's us call them ... hmmmm .... how about Assholes?
Well the Assholes, they have a camp out in the woods in Oregon. Our 
contract says to kill all'a them we can and burn the place to the 
ground. They're supposed to be well-trained, have all sort'a guns and 
shit, but they never really done much fighting. 

Half of them was ex-army, but most of those kicked out or gone AWOL
during basic. Just about enough training to feel dangerous. They were 
raising hell around the area, beating up citizens and a few punks that 
got in their way in selling smack. That kind'a juvenile horseshit. They 
never met up with any real professionals like us, though. Tough shit 


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