|
|
|
|
|
Declassified by Chief of Communications, 3-28-01. As with new members to any group, there is an 'initiation' of sorts. TFM is no different. Despite all their training in-house, there comes a time when the new recruit must go out into the field on his first mission. As it was, as it is again. No new recruit gets out of this job. Although in one case, certain recruits went a bit...beyond the call of duty. This is a synopsis of their mission log. Read, and enjoy. The setting; Los Angeles, California. Another sunny morning in an endless string of them in this lively town. The mornings here are as different from the evenings as day itself is from night; a different ‘vibe’; a different type of people. The very same corner doughnut shop down the street can peddle sugary sweets during the day, while the street itself sells another kind of treat at night... It is this enviornment that we find our two newest members of the TF Militia. Sitting in the doughnut shop, having their danish, and spying on the store across the street. A toy store, set to open in a few hours. As with all Special Operatives, these two are known only by their code-names; in this business, real names are an unwanted liability. Turbo-Magnus sat with a cup of coffee, and a copy of the communication from TFM Hq, while Deadpool kept an eye on the shop across the street. A half-eaten cherry danish sits on a plate in front of him, the crumbs scattered randomly on the table, and his shirt front. It is like any other mission of TFM; go in, get the toys, and return to the Warehouse with them. The only difference is...this is the first time either of them has been on a mission. Up until now, it has been training for the both of them at headquarters. Today is the day they see if their training was worthwhile... DeadPool: “Man, I’m sick of this waiting. They finally gave me a gun, and I can’t even use it!” TurboMagnus: “I hear ya. I wanna go in there and kick the guy’s skidplate!” DeadPool: “What are we waiting for?” TurboMagnus: “Boss said we have to wait here for our contact, who’d tell us exactly what to do.” DeadPool: “That sucks. Look, we know what to do. Why wait for some old fart behind a desk to come tell us what to do?” Unknown voice: “Because you still have a lot to learn about the finer points of toy-hunting, that’s why.” TurboMagnus: “Boss!” Boss: “In the flesh.” DeadPool: “But I thought you never leave Headquarters.” Boss: “Sometimes I like to make an exception. Besides, the others are busy working on a new project for us. With the Roundtable only in it’s planning stages, it’s imperative that everyone help with daily operations. Even me.” DeadPool: “Roundtable?” Boss: “Well, if all plays according to plan, it will be the civilian equivalent of our own TF Militia. We’d like to focus our energy strictly on the dealers, and leave the fellow collectors to watchdog themselves.” TurboMagnus: “Is such a thing possible?” Boss: “We’ll know soon. In the meantime, I believe you two have a mission to carry out?” DeadPool: “So we were told.” TurboMagnus: “By you, if I’m not mistaken.” Boss: “Yes, this particular mission came directly from me. Which is why I am here to personally oversee it. I want no screwups.” DeadPool: “So what’s the plan?” Boss: “This.” (slides a dufflebag out from next to him, and pulls out a glock-9 and several grenades, sliding them over to TurboMagnus and DeadPool) TurboMagnus: “Holy***!” DeadPool: “Is that what I think...?” Boss: “The gun once belonged to TFX-1, a former operative of ours. The grenades are Russian surplus, sent to us by way of the Netherlands.” TurboMagnus: “The dutchbotters? But I thought they...” Boss: “You weren’t picked for this mission to think. The two of you have one purpose in this mission; to take out the dealer, and his store. If you have any qualms about this, then I’ve misjudged the two of you.” Turbo: “No problems here. Sorry to question you.” DeadPool: “Ditto.” Boss: “Good. Now follow my lead.” (The two operatives, along with the Boss, leave the doughnut shop, and head over to the toy store just now opening up, called the M-Toy Company. Alone in the shop is Kevin, the owner and operator of the shop. TurboMagnus, DeadPool, and the Boss, their weapons hidden, are the first customers in the door.) Dealer: “Hey, I remember you. You were the guy complaining about the transformers the other day. I see you’re back. Change your mind, eh? Come to buy them now?” Boss: “You’re wrong. Dead wrong.” (pulls out a walther p-38, and shoots the dealer in the knee) Dealer: “Aaarrggh!” (falls to ground, clutching bloody knee) Boss: “Turbo, put the toys in the dufflebag. DeadPool, lock the door and start looking around the store for any other tfs that may be hidden in the back. I’ll take care of this dealer.” (TurboMagnus and DeadPool do as they are told. The Boss steps closer to the stricken dealer) Boss: “I told you that 25 dollars for a loose incomplete Jumpstarter was too-much. I even tried to explain it to you rationally, and showed you the prices in the guide. But would you listen to me? Nooo, of course not. There was no reasoning with you.” Dealer: “But you can’t do this! There are laws!” Boss: “This is LA. There are no laws here.” (Shoots dealer in other knee) Dealer: “Aaarrggh!” (now crippled, wimpering, holding both knees to staunch the flow of blood) TurboMagnus: (pats bag affectionately)“The toys are in the bag. What now?” Boss: “We wait for DeadPool to finish looking over the store...” DeadPool: “All finished.” Boss: “...and then we prepare to leave the store via the back door. DeadPool, take these grenades, pull the pins, and toss them all over the store. Turbo, cover the dealer, and shoot him in the head if he tries to stop you. I’ll head to the back with the dufflebag, and wait for you.” TurboMagnus: “Understood.” DeadPool: “Gotcha.” (The Boss leaves the store. Upon exiting, he rolls a heavy dumpster in front of the back door, effectively blocking it. He then heads up the alley at a slow pace, whistling the transformers theme song along the way...back in the store, DeadPool does as he’s told, pulling the pins on the grenades, and tosing them around in various parts of the store.) DeadPool: “There. That outta do it.” TurboMagnus: “Rock-ON, my man! That outta level this place in no time flat.” DeadPool: “Yea, man...(a horrible thought occurs to him) um, Turbo...how long do grenades take to explode?” TurboMagnus: “I dunno, probably between 8 and 15 seconds, why do you...” (The rest of his answer is drowned out by multiple explosions throughout the building, one after the other in quick succession. True to what TurboMagnus had said moments before, the entire building is leveled. There are no survivors...) Boss: (walking off into the early morning sun)...”more than meets the eye...” (he pauses in front of a familiar-looking doughnut shop, and decides there’s time for a quick danish...sitting with doughnut in hand, he contemplates another job well done in keeping the ranks of TFM free of the loose cannons. Only the best, most disciplined warriors will do...in such a just cause as ours.)
(end of mission log) |
|
|
|
|