Mercenary Story (Part 2)
 

I've taken a long time to get this written down and I've decided to show another excerpt to you guys:

The two left the bar and Greg hailed a cab. "Take us to Eastern Springs Condominiums." he said. The cab driver had a Jheri curl haircut and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. Greg took a drag on his cigarette and looked out the window. Katie rested her head on her shoulder. Twenty-five minutes later, they arrived at Eastern Springs Condominiums. Greg paid the cabbie with a twenty rand bank note and lead Katie up the stairs. They stopped at a door marked 217. Greg took a key out of his back pocket and opened the door. The inside didn't look like a bachelor's apartment. The entry way lead to a kitchen where the refrigerator, stove, and microwave were items ordered from an IKEA catalog. Beyond that was the living room. A sofa was placed in front of a glass coffee table with a few magazines and an ashtray on top of it. Underneath the coffee table was an oriental rug. In front of the coffee table was a small table with a twenty-inch color television on top of it.

Greg placed his keys, wallet and handgun on the coffee table and removed his jacket. He wore a shoulder holster underneath the jacket. He placed the jacket on the back of a chair and entered his bedroom. It had olive green colored shag carpeting and the walls were painted tan. He had a bed with a wood frame, cherry wood dresser, and a nightstand on the bed's right side. Two avant grade paintings hung above the bed. Katie walked into the room with a look of awe on her face.

"How can you afford all of this?"

"It's not actually mine. A friend of mine owns the place and he lets me use it. The washroom is to your right. You can have the bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

Katie entered the washroom and took off her shoes. She turned the knobs on the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Something then caught her attention. In her reflection she saw that she had a large bruise on her arm. She had gotten it from Paul. Paul had treated her like trash. He had beaten her out of anger or when he was drunk. When she got him angry, he would threaten her with the linoleum knife. She began to cry at the memories of abuse.

Greg was in the process of changing his shirt when he had heard her sobbing. He walked over to the restroom to see Katie sitting on the edge of the bathtub, weeping. She noticed him, got up, hugged him, and cried into his shoulder. "Its Paul, isn't it?" he asked. Katie nodded. "Don't worry. He won't harm you ever again. I've intimidated him. The stupid bastard 's probably never seen a gun before. If he even touches a hair on your head, he's a dead man."

Katie removed her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. His dreamy hazel eyes twinkled at her. She kisses him on the lips. Her lips were soft and sweet. He stared at her for a moment, and then kissed her back. They began to embrace and moved into the bedroom. He unbuckled his pants and she took off her shirt. They laid down on the bed and embraced again. They hugged and kissed each other. He whispered into her ear: "I'm just a happy camper. Rockin' and a-rollin' and whatever."

They continued on, both breathing heavily. They were now stripped down to their undergarments. He kissed her on the nose, and she kissed him on the forehead. At last, they both climaxed and laid on the bed.

“Christ, you’re good.” She said. “It’s nothing like Paul. Paul’s too rough. It hurts. But with you, it’s enjoyable. It’s one hell of an experience.”

“To be honest, the last time I remembered getting laid was a week before my service with my ex-girlfriend, Eileen. She was kind of a self-centered bitch. Plus she was too moaned too much while we were screwing. The last thing I heard of her was that she passed out at a party and two men took advantage of her.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

“It’s pretty immoral, I agree with you on that. Listen; let’s not let this be a one-night stand. I like. I really do.”

“Is it because of my body?”

“Fuck no. I like you as a person, although you do have a nice body. You can live here. Just move out of Paul’s place.”

“So you think we’re a couple?”

“Right now, I’d say we’re dating.”

The time they had first met was a memory that Katie cherished. She returned to her book. Right now the character of Clay and his friends were watching some sort of snuff film and he and his girlfriend were the only ones disturbed by it.

Ares was in the kitchen, cleaning a disassembled assault rifle. As he was putting it back together, Will walked in. His full name was William Macpherson, an American doctor. He sat down at the table and looked at the gun.

“What is that?”

“This is a CR-21 assault rifle. It was a candidate in the late 90’s as a new rifle for the South African Army. You can easily buy one of these off the black market for 500 Rand. It’s nothing special. Just a R5 rifle in a bullpup stock.”

“Bullpup?”

“That means the action is behind the trigger, so you load it in the back.”

“Yes, well, um, speaking of guns; I want one.”

“You already have the revolver.”

Will took the revolver off his hip and placed it on the table. It was a Smith & Wesson Police revolver with rubber grips.

“Well, I don’t think a .38 is going to do much good against a group of Somali pirates. I want a long gun.”

“I see. Let’s check the inventory, shall we?”

Ares lead Will to a room in the back of the boat. He flipped on a light switch and revealed a large cache of arms. He then put a rifle on one of the racks and picked up a shotgun. “Remington model 870 shotgun. This is a riot model and holds six shells in a tubular magazine. Has a flashlight mount on the forearm and a spare shell holder mounted on the receiver. Try it, you’ll love it.”

He handed Will the gun and a box of 12 Gauge ammunition. He then looked down at his watch, a Luminox. It read seven-thirty. Everyone was usually up at this time. Everyone except one particular person. He walked out of the armory and went three doors down. He then opened the door to a messy cabin where a Venezuelan man slept silently in bed. He had a crew cut and a very thin mustache and wore a T-shirt and a pair of jockey shorts. In his left hand was a bottle of whiskey.

The man reminded Ares of a hibernating bear. He took the .44 pistol out of his holster, aimed at the bottle, and fired. The sound of a gunshot in an enclosed space left him disoriented and the bottom half of the bottle shattered. The man jumped out of bed like a jack in the box.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ! What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Glad to see that you’re awake, Rocco. Anyway, I want you to check on the engines, make sure they’re running smoothly.”

“The engines are fuckin’ fine.”

“Rocco, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Now get some clothes on and check on the engines or you’ll be using crutches to walk around for the next three months.”

Ares left the room with a disgruntled look on his face. “Fokken’ domkop.” He muttered under his breath. He walked over to Greg’s cabin and knocked on the door.

“Greg? You awake?”

“Ja. Come in, bru.”

who fires a .44 indoors? wouldnt he just throw something?

Rocco's a deep sleeper. And when I mean deep, I mean deep.

yeah, but permanent hearing loss is not worth it, just have ares flip hi cot over with him in it.

If you guys have any story ideas, post them here. I'm open to suggestions.

Maybe something else for a rifle, a modern god of war probably wouldnt use a cr 21. There old, outdated, and never were successful to begin with. Get a 6.5mm m4 or something badass, and a metalstorm 3gl

Any scene ideas?

One of the characters (big dudes like Ares or Van Zyl) punching some guy in the face so hard one of his eyeballs pops out of the socket

I have an idea for a bar fight (obviously started by Rocco). It goes a little something like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-HiZZ41zHY

I showed a copy of my manuscript to my aunt, and she said Greg was a bit of a blowhard.

Here is Greg's Somali attire:

Shirt
http://www.desertdeucesurplus.com/catalog/1568-smal.jpg

Pants
http://tacticalpants.com/blog/wp-con.../bdu-pants.jpg

Holster
http://www.hyattgunstore.com/images/P/main-1763.jpg

Boots
http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/3178JPXBPNL.jpg

Here are my mercenaries' weapons:

* Greg's sidearm is a Kimber Warrior II fitted with Pachmayr grips and Novak sights, He keeps it in Galco Royal Guard holster while at port and in a Blackhawk tactical holster while in Somalia. His main weapon in Somalia is a Vektor R5 fitted with two magazines clipped together.

* Ares' main sidearm is a Heckler & Koch Mk. 23 Mod. 0 kept in a belt holster. His secondary sidearm is a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle Mk. XIX with a stainless frame and a black slide and barrel. His main weapon in Somalia is a M249 SAW Para and a Remington 870 fitted with an extended magazine tube, Ghost Ring sights, a spare shell holder, and a Speedfeed stock that he keeps in a scabbard on his back.

* Katie's sidearm is a SIG Sauer P220 Elite Dark kept in a M12 holster. She carries a Walther PPK/S kept in a small-of-the-back holster while at port, but doesn't carry it into Somalia. Her main weapon is a Heckler & Koch MP5K-PDW fitted with a M68 Aimpoint scope and two magazines clipped together.

* Rocco's sidearm is a Heckler & Koch P9S kept in a shoulder holster. His main weapon in Somalia is a FN FAL 50.00.

* Johnny's sidearm is a SIG Sauer P229. His weapons in Somolia is a Heckler & Koch MP5A3 fitted with an ACOG scope, RIS handguard, and two magazines clipped together and a Milkor MGL 140 loaded with HE grenades.

How bout the other team?

Here are the second team's weapons:

* Pieter Van Zyl carries an M16A2 fitted with a M203 Grenade Launcher. His sidearms are a Star Megastar in .45 ACP kept in a belt holster and a CZ-75B kept in a shoulder holster.

* Sean carries an AK-47 with an AR-15 style stock, RAS handguard, vertical foregrip, and a Surefire weapon light. His sidearm is a Browning Hi-Power.

* Cooper carries a Heckler & Koch G36K. He also carries a pair of Glock 17's in a pair of shoulder holsters.

* Mac Diesel carries an M60 machine gun along with a M79 Grenade Launcher.

* George carries a Heckler & Koch USP Compact as his sidearm.

Sounds good, whats chief packing? still got the family heirloom 1907 as an in port gun and a FAL as a kill bad guys gun?

Yep. I'll describe what they have in their armory later.

Fixed. If I can't rack the slide on the CZ, a guy like van Zyl won't be able to either

Here is what is in the mercenaries' armory besides the weapons I just mentioned:

* Two M4 Carbines (one fitted with an ACOG scope and Surefire M500AB weapon light; the other fitted with an Eotech 552 holographic sight, RIS foregrip, and PentagonLight™ MD3R weapon light).

* Heckler & Koch SL8 (fitted with a short scope rail, double stack magazine well, 10 round magazine, Harris Bipod, and Scope).

* Steyr SGG 69 (fitted with Harris Bipod, double set triggers, silencer, Leupold Mk 4 scope and Barrett BORS).

* Heckler & Koch MP5K (fitted with Navy trigger group, extended barrel, and MP5/PDW style end cap).

* RPG-7

* Norinco Type 56 (fitted with ribbed receiver and AKM style muzzle break).

* IMI Uzi

* Beretta 92G Elite 1A

* Glock 17

I want to make my character's feel like they're real people. So I've decided to add scenes of them socializing after they've completed the first job and are waiting for another job to come along. There is one scene I've been planning on writing where the gang goes to bar which Greg describes as "part dive, part karaoke, but all in all it's a place to get fokken' sloshed.". I don't want this to be an all-out action story. I want this to look like a living people do.

A. Wear gloves, tac gloves make it easy, you probably were just using bare hands.

B. With a mec gar 19 round flush fit, you are carrying 20 rounds. You wont exactly be racking the slide much.

The S&W is cooler

Seriously, what do you guys think of my idea for the bar scene?

Definitely seems like a good setup for some comic relief.

Thanks. I plan to have Greg drunkenly sing The Rolling Stones' "Let's Spend the Night Together" and later literally does this with Katie.

And im sure rocco will make make an ass of himself. And chief can drink any of them under the table. I can think fo some good dialouge.

Weapons more suitable van Zyl than a M16A2:
http://www.centerfiresystems.com/RIFLE-AKFPK-BLK.asp
http://www.alliancearmament.com/460ak47-1.aspx
http://www.armalite.com/ItemForm.asp...0-49488ec48776
http://www.impactguns.com/store/KMC-25846.html
http://www.robarm.com/RA_vepr2_308.htm
http://www.dsarms.com/SA58-FAL-PARA-...fo/SA58PCONGO/
http://www.springfield-armory.com/armory.php?model=18
SIG 542
Galil AR 7.62
OTS-14 Groza
9A-91
SR3M Vikhr

Here are my cast for the main mercenaries (and this is the cast I decided on).

Attachment 354

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Attachment 356

Attachment 357

Attachment 358

[quote=Swordfish941;23298]Attachment 355QUOTE]

is that liev schrieber?

[quote=Zulu Two Six;23301]Yes it is.

Here are the actors I want to play Smithy's mercs:

Attachment 364

Attachment 365

Attachment 366

Attachment 367

Attachment 368

After a much heated debate with Smithy, we both agreed on Van Zyl's weaponry. They are:

* DSA SA58 OSW fitted with two magazines taped "jungle-style" and a M68 Aimpoint red dot sight.

* Star Megastar in .45 ACP (kept in belt holster).

* Smith & Wesson 4506-1 (fitted with Novak sights; kept in shoulder holster).

I think a slightly bigger FAL would be good, a big guy doesnt want to rob himself with a tiny rifle.

DSA SA58 Congo Para or just a Belgian Para FAL would be better. van Zyl looks too American

I agree on the DSA SA58 Congo Para. And the guy I want to play van Zyl is Kevin Durand.

You can't have an American play an African. It doesn't look right for some reason
The Merc leader from District 9 would be a better fit, but the guy is too short

Maybe Arnold Vosloo if he bulked up

I say coopers glocks should be gen 4s, Sean should use mecgar mags for the better capacity, Mac Diesel should have some white phosphorus. George should accidentaly fire off the gun while high and get his ass kicked.

If you guys have any ideas for the book, just PM me.

Here's another passage from my book:

Ares entered the bedroom and caught sight of Greg doing his morning exercises. He wore only a pair of sweat pants and was skipping rope, occasionally criss-crossing it like a schoolgirl. At first glance, Greg didn’t seem like a Special Forces veteran. He was 5’ 7” while most Recces operatives were 6 or 6’ 2”. What he lacked in physically, he made up in years of vigorous training. He was a skilled marksman, an expert in hand-to-hand combat, and was trained to survive in enemy territory armed with only a knife. Ares stood there for a moment, studying Greg’s features. The only muscular part of him was his arms. They weren’t big and bulging, but were very robust. He also had a small collection of tattoos. On his right bicep was a tattoo of a King of Hearts playing card. On his left bicep was an Ace of Swords tarot card. Lastly, on the back of his neck was a quote from a T.S. Elliot poem. It read, “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whisper”.

Greg stopped skipping rope and stared at Ares with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Well, what is it, bru? I normally expect Katie to come in here and watch me do aerobics, but you?” He took two pills off his desk and swallowed them simultaneously with a glass of water.

“What are those?”

“It’s just a multivitamin and my migraine medication. The vitamin is some over-the-counter kak and the migraine pill is prescribed. Anyway, what are you here for?”

“I’m just here to tell you that everyone’s up. Chief and Johnny are in the bridge, Katie are Lynn are in their cabin, Rocco’s suppose to be checking the engines, and Will and Todd are having breakfast.”

“Good for them.” Greg said, putting on a fresh t-shirt. “Christ, I’m fokken’ skraal. What do we have to eat?”

“A lot of canned goods, some preserved meat, and a couple boxes of dried fruit and fruit preserves.”

“Do we have any to eat that’s edible? Seriously, I feel like you’re just putting some freeze-dried kak on my plate and telling me it’s some sort of mystery meat.”

“I’m sorry, but this boat was meant for attacking larger ships. So there’s not a lot of room on here.”

“I will be happy if we just have eggs.” Greg said, putting on a pair of cargo pants along with a belt. Attached to the belt was a holster that tucked into the waistband of the pants. “Do we have any eggs?”

“We have powdered eggs.”

“Eggs that have been spray dried into a powdered form. You just have rehydrate them in order to cook ‘em.”

“Then could you fix up some for us?” Greg asked as they walked out of his cabin and into the kitchen. Todd was there, eating a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee. Will was also at the table with a sketchbook and pen.

“This is for you.” Will said, handing Greg a drawing. It was he and Katie as Annie Leibovitz’s John Lennon and Yoko Ono portrait.

“It’s nice.” He said, putting it on the table. “But I’m not the person that should be compared to John Lennon. He’s a pacifist and I’m a soldier at heart. I should be compared to Mick Jagger.”

“No, you’re more like an Afrikaner Jim Morrison.” added Ares. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, I guess.”

Greg glanced over to Todd, who had a paperback book by his side. He picked it up and read the cover. It was Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun. He placed it down on the table with distaste.

“Why in God’s name are you reading this? This book is like The Bell Jar to me. If someone had lost his face and limbs by an artillery shell, they wouldn’t get a fokken’ tracheotomy. They would have someone put them out of their misery.”

“What’s a tracheotomy?”

Greg turned to the kitchen doorway to see Katie and Lynn walking in. Katie sat down next to Greg. “Lynn, a tracheotomy is when they cut a small incision on your neck and then put a tube in it, allowing oxygen to go in and out of the trachea.”

“Katie, how much did you learn in med school?”

“I learned the anatomy and physiology of the human body, basic surgery techniques and procedures, and different types of analgesics.”

“Name ten analgesics off the top of your head, besides morphine,” asked Ares, pouring a powdered egg and water mixture into a frying pan.

“Sulindac, oxycodone, tramadol, mefenamic acid, fenoprofen, oxaprozin, methadone, butorphanol, codeine, and etodolac.”

Everyone in the room stared at Katie in utter amazement. She was able to name ten painkillers, not in their marketed names, but in their generic ones. Ares handed Greg a plate of scrambled powdered eggs along with a fork. Greg garnished it with black pepper and took a bite.