the sexy chick who lures the guards away from their posts with a single come-hither look and then silently dispatches them using one of my seventeen styles of martial arts.
Oh, and if deb2world isn’t around, then I’ll be the one who says “Quit your whining, soldier. It’s just a flesh wound.”
Hardygrrl You are a very naughty girl! Go to my room!
[[This has been a test of the WARPED Mind Control Device. Rememeber for all your mad scientist needs, trust WARPED Inc., the only company that guarantees delivery two days before you order.]]
I get to be the inscrutable Pat Morita/Miyage-san pacifist guy that everyone tries to beat up but they just end up injuring themselves in the process.
I would like to enlist as the weapons and equipment specialist. I can obtain any weapon or device you’ll need, as well as train someone in it’s use. Also, I’d like to volunteer as the experienced, somewhat cynical soldier.
Okay, looks like Cranky is The Wuss. She comes through in the end though, punching out ObL’s psycho 7th wife. She explains it simply as, “I couldn’t take the bitch’s attitude.”
Manservant just got a raise. I hope that car has a big backseat.
Miss Creant is our Tough Chick. She’s having a secret affair with Saint Zero though she doesn’t like him very much. She’s just doing it for the choice guns he supplies.
Saint Zero is also sleeping with Erika and hardygrrl. He loves his guns and is the team slut.
heheheh. My uncle sez that back in his day they just called it “shell-shock”. That don’t have enough syllables for people nowadays, so when I was in the hospital they called it “post-traumatic-stress-disorder”. I’m much better now, they said so,
quick image of village child holding a doll
(flinch) … a-and i still know all the stuff I knew before about all the stuff what the Army labels “Ordnance”…
quick image of tremendous silent explosion
(flinch) ahh! Uh, hm. Yeah, i know this trenchcoat is filthy and the goggles aren’t standard-issue, butyoucan’thavethemYOUCAN’THAVETHEMYOUCAN’THAVETHEM!
Oooh! I’ve never seen one of the NEW jeeps before! (heads over towards the Humvees)
(On the way I see Verrain step out of a bivouac tent. I start trembling all over and fall down rolling around on the ground, crying and screaming.)
AHHHHH! Noooo! I’ll be good, I promise…! Not ‘Happy Birthday’! PLEASE, NOT ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’
(Sue shoves Verrain back inside the tent. Once I see he’s gone I sit up somewhat shakily climb to my feet. I shuffle over to where Mnementh sits mutely sharpening shiny things. I sit on the floor at his feet and gaze in rapt attention at the blades.)
[sub] I’m sure I’ve seen this kind of character before, but I can’t remember quite where. Guess I’m kinda picturing a guy who looks like the gyro-copter flyer from “Road Warrior” ('cept without the bad teeth) and acts sorta like the Trashcan Man from “The Stand”.[/sub]
::The leather-pants-and-black-t-shirt-wearing guy with a face full of five day old stubble and random streaks of grease, chomping on a worn down cigar, kick starts his '48 Panhead with a roar, tongues of flame spit out the pipes, slightly singeing his faithful mangey mutt, Spike. A slight nod of his head, and Spike leaps up on the gas tank and gives one clean bark as UncleBill unslings his rag covered four barrelled .12 Ga shotgun with his left hand and guns the throttle with his right, sending a plume of sand back into the CO’s tent as he finishes his daily wash::
With a maniacal grin and a glint in his one good eye, he says, “Saddle Up! Today’s a GOOD day to DIE!”
**Nicklz?
Verrain?
Saint Zero? **
Can we toss in Manservant Hecubus too?
::Checks to see if the switchblade is still tucked into her garter belt::
Okay, I’m done my nails.
Can we go kick some butt yet? If I get bored, I might have to start selecting random bystanders to interrogate. I need to practice my evil croon.
:starts eyeing the rest of the room:
Are you sure we don’t have any infiltrators?
AIIEEE!
Do I get a red shirt now?
I have to nominate myself as Erika’s male counterpart. I’m the always in black, always wearing wraparound shooting glasses (with light-level appropriate changeable lenses) who doesn’t say a lot (in real conversation- I know I’m verbose as a politician on the board), can handle pretty much any weapon from empty hands to a stick to a blade to a rifle with equal aplomb and is incredibly adept at snide one-liners muttered under the breath.
We could start with a high level of gender-influenced suspicion but work our way up to an unstoppable degree of professional respect. Of course, we’d probably be among the team members to get killed and thereby serve to motivate the survivors even further, but I’m all for re-writing that plot devise.
I could be the quiet, shy guy who always looks as though he’s in over his head UNTIL at one point, while faced with unsurmountable odds, I just lose it and start killing terrorists with my bare hands and a crazy look in my eye.
::twitch::
Can I be the belly-dancer performing at the smoky coffee-house that y’all meet up at the night before the mission starts? (ok, I know I’m blonde, but they have blondes over there!) Mostly y’all will only see me in the background, but occasionally one of the guys will leer at what I’m doing and the camera will pan to moving in some way that no one thought a human body could move.
Hmmm…can I be the Q-type guy who develops all the nifty weapons that y’all get to use? Y’know, the pen-sized lasers that can perform LASIK surgery at a range of 2 miles or slice a man in two if he looks at it funny; or the super-explosive bubblegum/chewing tobacco combo. That sort of thing.
If you don’t need that guy anymore, then I suppose I could be the guy with the death wish who walks into certain death with only an unsharpened pencil, somehow blows everything up, kills over 400 heavily armed enemy soldiers, and takes no wounds, except, perhaps, for a bullet wound in the bicep?
Okay, I’m now the Ash from Evil Dead type.
Michael is dragged in front of an Al-Queda cell leader with some other locals
“Oh no, no no no. This is a mistake, I’ve never even seen these assholes before!”
=====
Michael tries to weasel out of an assignment
“Oh no. I made a deal, no more covert recon ops! Not again! Uh uh, no no no --”
The other team members point guns at him
“Shit. What’s the job?”
=====
Michael tries to impress the native population: i.e. the requisite cute native girl
“So, give me some of that goat cheese, young infant woman-person.”*
SLAP
[sub]*Poorly translated into arabic, then back to english agains[/sub]
=====
And many, many more…
I hope stealth isn’t going to be an important part of our strategy, because this motley band of yahoos isn’t going to escape notice.
Oh, I volunteer!
Bad tempered female with big sword.
With a penchant for leather.
All-purpose assassin checking in. An inch or a mile away, doesn’t matter. I’ll need a few things, though…a National Match M14 (with the rock&roll switch and a 10x scope), and one of those nifty lil’ silenced .22s.
Aha! Found my role. I’m gonna need some make up, though.
I’ve got deb and Abby on my team. Anyone else who wants to patch up the battle-torn denziens of good, you just pop into my tent.
I don’t know what would be worse. Going in as a Medic, or going in as Signal Corps AHEAD of attacking troops on the ground, to shoot films or videos of them attacking.
I hate it all.
Cartooniverse
p.s. Having said that, how do I look in these fatigues? Do they make me look more pudgy or what??? :rolleyes: