Flying Brass (Zeno)

[sloth]

Michael always hated these jobs on Warzone. He'd do them - they were worth quite a bit of money - but he never liked them. Old memories flashed up, especially on this kind of assignment. They were going into an enemy base using what the locals called the back door.

Meaning a liberal use of explosives.

Of course, that didn't mean that they would be put into the back, no, that'd be to fuckin' easy! No, they had to be dropped around twenty clicks out, then go in by car. At least they had a car. An old-world Dune Buggy fitted with a fifty cal gun on top. They were driving through streets, though, so they had it reinforced. The glass and the wheels, anyway. No protection from the dozens of mines and IEDs, though. They'd have to hoof it through the buildings to get past the explosives, since they all were connected at the top by bridges. "From the before times" they said. The buildings that weren't blown down, at any rate. They couldn't have any air support either, because of the SAM turrets all around. If they disconnected some of them, then maybe.

Michael sighed, securing his vest. It was looking like it was turning into a regular Bay of Pigs.

Michael walked out of the locker room and made his way towards the main vehicle bay, where his and his partner's ride was currently residing.

He slung his rifle, and secured his hat, walking past the guys here and there working on the cars and tanks that FUBAR had. Hell, this wasn't even the least of it. As of now, FUBAR had the power to go to war and win, then start another right after. He dodged sparks from welding torches and one random flaming wheel that a mechanic was chasing after, somewhat amusing Michael. Then he reached the Buggy, which was being refitted with the- that wasn't the fifty cal.

"Oi, what're you two doin'?!" There were two mechanics attaching some bizarre contraption that looked like the fifty cal, but a much bigger barrel. One of the mechanics looked up and smiled.

"Orders from Mike and Shaun, you guys are testing this out." Michael swore. He always liked testing the small stuff, but this? This would wreck their ride for sure!

Michael sighed, and jumped up onto the hood, taking out a pack of smokes. "Hey, you can't smoke in here!"

Michael sighed. "So sue me!" Michael lit his cigarette on a shower of sparks, and puffed several times.

He really, really hated these jobs.

He wondered who his partner would be on this job.

[Zeno]

Zeno's foot tapped in annoyance as he stood in one of the elevators, heading for the vehicle bay. He always got jittery on missions to the Warzone. He couldn't count the number of times he had almost bit the dust there. It was a bitch, going there. But the pay was fucking high as hell, so he did it without too much complaint.

Didn't mean he had to like it, though...

Exhaling smoke through his nose, Zeno dropped his cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his boot, before reaching into his pocket, taking out a pack of cigarettes, putting another cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with a match, which he threw recklessly over his shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator, into the vehicle bay.

The first person he noticed in there, waiting by the dune buggy they were supposed to take to the target location was none other than Michael. Was he Zeno's partner for this mission? Oh, thank Christ... At least he wouldn't be going on this mission with some rookie for training experience.

“Mike!” Zeno greeted, waving at his friend as he walked over to him. “Are you ready for this?”

[sloth]

“Mike!” Michael looked over, sighing in relief. It was Zeno he was being partnered up with, not some rookie, thank Christ. “Are you ready for this?” Michael laughed. "Fuck no! But the pay is good, so I better get ready fast, eh!" Michael took another drag of his cigarette, much to the annoyance of the mechanic. "I dibs drivin', by the way. Mike and Shaun ordered an experimental weapon on the buggy, and-"

"It's on a remote control, G-Man, the cowboy there just needs to use a screen and a remote to control it." Michael nodded at the mechanic, then looked back at Zeno. "Dibs is still in place," Michael said. He chuckled, taking a drag of his cancer stick, then looked back at the mechanic. "How much longer until we can roll?" The mechanic held up four fingers. Four minutes. Perfect. Michael unslung his rifle and put it in his seat, then put his pack in the back. Pulling out his wallet, he walked over to the vending machine at the wall, and got himself a Snickers and a water. Every time he went to the Warzone, without fail, he had a Snickers and a water. It helped calm his nerves.

It used to be a Snickers and Jolt Cola, but his leg kept moving when they were sniping, so he discontinued his habit.

Opening his water, he took a swig, then offered some to Mike.

[Zeno]

"Fuck no! But the pay is good, so I better get ready fast, eh!" Zeno chuckled at that, upholstering one of his revolvers, spinning it on his finger, before holstering it again, then doing the same with the other revolver. This was something Zeno liked to do when he was antsy... or bored... or happy... or... Alright, so he did it all the time... "I dibs drivin', by the way. Mike and Shaun ordered an experimental weapon on the buggy, and-"

Michael was interrupted by one of the mechanics, who informed him that all Zeno would need was a remote control. Zeno nodded to the mechanic, not really having anything to say to the man. He was just a lowly mechanic, after all. "Dibs is still in place," Michael said, and Zeno shrugged.

“What, should I care about driving? I've already told you that I don't like driving. Give me a horse any day,” Zeno said, spinning both guns and holstering them. He was getting bored now, and even more antsy. He really didn't want to go to the Warzone, but money was money, and a contract was a contract. He had signed up for it. There was no backing down now. Damn his greed. Zeno holstered his revolvers once more, seeing Michael offering him water.

“No, thanks. I got my own,” he said, patting his hip. Under his coat was a canteen of water strapped to his hip.

[sloth]

“What, should I care about driving? I've already told you that I don't like driving. Give me a horse any day,” Michael nodded. What Zeno said was true, he always preferred horses to wheeled transport. Though what Michael wouldn't do for some air support. He sighed, then looked at Zeno. He was in his usual attire. Really? On an assignment to the Warzone?

“No, thanks. I got my own," Michael nodded, taking another swig of his water. "Say, Zeno," Michael began, hopping off the hood of the Buggy. "You aren't going to take anything else with you to the Warzone? A rifle, some plates maybe?" Michael motioned his his attire, which was his usual stuff for heavy missions like this.

"And the mission said we were going in quiet, at least until we reach the rear of the complex." It was why he was given several pounds of C4 to blow a hole. It's also why he was given silencers by Mike & Shaun for his Desert Eagles. Because he just loved being a guinea pig for the two mad scientists.

He hated his position in all of this.

He never should've signed that contract.

Michael sighed, before being patted on the shoulder. "She's all yours, G-Man, you guys leave in five." Mechanic was lucky Michael didn't react to the shoulder patting. He would've broken his arm before. Now... Michael took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping out the flame. He was getting old. He checked his Desert Eagles, silencers on the ends, and checked his carbine in his seat. Still as smooth as ever. He fitted it in the rack between the two seats, and hopped into the driver's side. He relaxed a bit, taking out another cigarette and lighting it with his lighter.

He looked at his watch. Three minutes. Michael sighed, and closed his eyes. What he wouldn't do for a drink right now...