Mercenary Story (Part 2)

[Swordfish941]

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).

[k9870]

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

[S&Wshooter]

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

[S&Wshooter]

[Swordfish941]

Originally Posted by S&Wshooter

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.

[S&Wshooter]

Originally Posted by Swordfish941

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

[S&Wshooter]

Maybe Arnold Vosloo if he bulked up

[k9870]

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.

[Swordfish941]

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

[Swordfish941]

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.