Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

The Monster of Htaed · (09-30-2016)

Night Terrors and Turbulence...
Time: 0017
Date: Sep. 30th, 2016
Location: Georgia, U.S.A Airspace

Inside a private jet sits Bearded War Pig kicked back in a very comfy looking captains chair, snoring, with a little drool leaking from the right corner of his mouth. Arney Greyson and James Grudner are also on the plane, like usual when traveling to a XWF event; his agent and his trainer are always with him. Arney is on his tablet, handling many different clients schedules and money, he is barely ever empty handed, a phone, tablet, or laptop, a real busy bee. James Grudner is on the phone with his daughter who is looking to get into fitness modeling and he is arguing with her about material shoots. Bearded War Pig begins to toss and turn a little, his for head begins to leak beads of sweat, this isn’t the first time B.W.P has had night sweats with his dreams and it most likely won’t be the last.

Inside the mind of a lost soul...

My eyelids peeled from my eyes, crusted over from dust, dirt, eye juice, and of course the little help from sleep neglect, as a boot repeatedly kicks my flak jacket, which we are required to wear sometimes even when sleeping. I don’t even look up to see who is waking me; I just lash out, “Okay I’m Up! Fuck.” Irritated from the continued nudge from one of my fellow brothers and have been awake for about seventy-two hours before my shitty two hours of sleep I had just before being woken up. Slowly I roll to my knees and hands, I take a deep breath and rise up off from my hands, I look over to witness a pile of sleeping Afghani Soldiers, I shake my head slowly moving to one knee and one foot planted on the dirt floor of the compound we had forcefully taken with no counter force what so ever.

Slowly I climb to my feet and grab my SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon), a light machine gun system, belt fed, gas cooled, 5.56 killing machine, not the most powerful, but it would make your asshole pucker if you where on the receiving end. I walk past the Afghani’s, while passing them, I kick one in the boot and wave him to rise and wake his men, because it would be time to take post. He nods and slowly gets around to waking his men. I make my way toward where my squad’s packs and gear are set up. Unclipping the clips from my rucksack and lifting the top off the main pack, reaching inside the main pouch I grab out one of the worse tasting meals ever Veggie Omelet MRE. Many Marines and Soldiers would rather starve then try to choke down this vile food source, a food that is classified below dog food by the FDA.

“God Dammit!” I thought to myself as I opened the MRE and forced myself to heat up the veggie omelet of vomit, mixing every drop of Tabasco sauce into the opened pack. After stirring everything together, with the Spork that came with the MRE, I begin shoveling the grotesque grub into my mouth, barely chewing; I basically inhale every last bite before even realizing it. Pulling an empty Spork from the packet, I then move on to the very delicious cinnamon scone, that is packed full of calories and sugars for all the patrolling and post that I will have to serve when the day starts. The starts still shine, not very brightly but they shine; the sun is just starting to rise, leaving a beautiful yet eerie fog floating just above the ground.

After finishing my MRE I place all my trash in the main sleeve and then toss it in a trash bag near our squad’s designated area of the COP (Command Operating Post), only on our fourth day of my first deployment and one Marine had already made the ultimate sacrifice. The Marine an attached Engineer, received a 5.56 round to the face probably no more than ten feet away from me, while I was suppressing fire for a squad to make movement on the enemy. I catch myself staring at my watch, just thinking about how that man was alive next to me one second and the next gone, just a sack of meat and bones along with some other fluids. It was about fifteen minutes to my post rotation as well as daybreak.

When the shit begins to fly, you know hell breaks loose, bullets are slung, and chaos spreads across the land like the bubonic plague. Crack. Bang. Crack. Crack. Crack. Bang. Just then the symphony of death and destruction was orchestrated with machinegun fire and explosions, I quickly finish suiting up in a full combat load. When screams from Marines can be heard coming from over by where I would be taking over post in just a minute or two. Taking off at a medium pace jog towards the wall with the ladder to my post, I see one of my senior Marines, carrying another Marine down the ladder on his shoulders. I knew right then and there another one of my brothers had been hit by the same fucking sniper who took out the engineer.

My jog turns into a sprint, my mind goes black and then turns back on, in full warrior mode, I make it to the bottom of the ladder, grabbing the shot Marine from the other’s shoulders. It is my good friend and brother in arms lance corporal Lamont, Khanrad, a dark green marine, who is now a light green Marine. Believing he may not make it, the Berserker inside takes over, I pick my SAW up and kick open the door near post and step outside into a small ditch. I begin laying rounds down range toward the sound of enemy gunfire, empting my two hundred round drum of ammo in a matter of seconds, I quickly reload. The sound of a medevac bird starts to be heard coming in hot, as I begin slapping the belt of round from my fourth drum now. My SAW has found itself up above my head, my arms fully locked out, while suppressing the enemy like in the video game Army of Two. A squad makes their way into the same ditch heads down maneuvering toward the door needing cover from being pinned down while out on patrol.

While my rounds rip through shit and mud hut walls and windows, furniture, and whatever else they find their way into. The other platoons squad passes me and they re-enter the COP while my squad maneuvers outside the COP toward the flat field out behind the COP where they popped red smoke for a CASEVAC. The vibration from the helicopter’s rotors while landing to pick up our wounded brother shakes my body...

Bearded War Pig wakes wide-eyed and soaked in sweat, he is panting, his night terror felt so real, he could feel the energy of his brother leaving his body. His dream it was like it happened when it did for real and not just as a clip of a memory embedded in his brain. Knowing he would not be able to get any more rest until he could think and remove his mind from the memories, rest he would need with having to face Hunter Payne in just over twenty-four hours. Bearded War Pig pulls out a lap op and logs into the Internet, accessing his webcam linked to XWF Galaxy, he presses accept.

“Hello again to all you sad, delinquent, and depraved bastards and skanks who find my live videos entertaining, again I am high in the mother fucking sky. You know flying that superstar class shit, you know the agent seems to be making my life more luxurious, and fulfills my requests with out any lip. It is amazing what winning a little gold will do to the people around you. You know they say your true friends are the ones willing to sleep on the piss stained mattress with you and not just on the custom down pillow top mattress. Luckily for me I never looked for a friendship with Arney, actually more of an, I love to hate and make his life hell kind of relationship. Until recently, with all the extra effort and heart he has been putting into taking care of me, I’ve decided to try and put a little more effort into expressing myself to my fans so here the fuck we are.

Y’all are probably expecting me to be on here to discuss my match with Hunter Payne for a shot against the undeclared Savage Champion the following week. Well I am not, if you aren’t aware yet, I am already scheduled to defend my newly won snatch catcher, you wouldn’t believe how much pussy this championship title belt has gotten me, even when I was having my post match check up, the female medical staff couldn’t help but slob on the champs nob like corn on the cob! Anyways enough of the triple x stuff, I am defending my title against Unknown Soldier in a fucking Unification Match, winner will become the Undisputed X-treme Champion. Undisputed X-Treme Champion of the World Bearded War Pig! Holy fuckballs that makes me harder than any of the evidence that shows Hillary Clinton to be no more than a treacherous witch who wants to watch America die slowly.

Oh fuck did I just take a stab at Soldier’s fugly ass girlfriend? Seriously though Soldier, even though your whole Satanic-worshipping act comes off as creepy and a little pathetic, you should be able to do better than that old hag. Fuck even Bill knew not to throw his little purple helmet soldier in that dusty blown out foxhole, she tries to pass as a pussy. Please for the love of god, leave Hillary in her cave when it comes time for you and I to square off toe to toe in the squared circle in Oslo, Norway. I feel that the presence of such a lifeless, shameless, bottom feeding, and hideous creature would just make the whole stadium sound off in a barfly fashioned flash mob, if you catch my drift. The fans don’t want that, they want to watch the both of us beat one another until we can’t move, then they want us to summon some magical strength from thin air and continue to beat the piss out of ourselves.

Just like how her presidential race is going to end, with her not being sworn in, our match will end the same with you no longer being the X-treme Champ, just how I told Dillinger. The warpath has been set in stone and everyone on it is going to be left in the ruble, that includes you buddy balls. I don’t know if you have heard of the concept of clear, hold, and build by any chance, but for those who aren’t, it is a military concept. First you clear out the area of threats, then you hold the area and set in defense, and finally you build it back up. Just like I am doing here in the XWF, I cleared Dillinger of his title, now I plan on holding it through our match, and then after it becomes unified and is renamed Undisputed X-treme Championship, then I will start to build it back up.

You know give it a new and worthy story of its magnificence, not saying you haven’t been one hell of an X-treme Champion, I mean just since the short time I have been here I have seen you defend it against some hardcore mother fuckers, with some pretty intense attacks on you. Including myself, you took a beating from Barney the fucken Dinosaur and lived to tell the tale, epic shit if I must say. Pretty fucking legendary, but there will be a new reign that won’t just give yours a run for its money, but it will blow it out of the books. Once we clash and the X-treme King is dethroned, an X-treme God will bless the XWF with the most violent and fulfilling Undisputed X-treme Championship reign the XWF will ever see.

You see Soldier, I am going to be an opponent that well will be different from all the rest, I will be the opponent you deserve, the kind that will keep your mind sharp. You will be forced to put your mind and body through a obstacle that you’ve never encountered in your life before. I’m a damn Teufel Hunden or Devil Dog a nickname given by the Germans because we fight with such ferocity and never let up attitude. No matter how much blood loss, how bad our bodies are beaten, or our souls dragged through the mud, we will take our foe by the throat and remove their ability to breath if need be. If I must, I will claim your oxygen as my own!”

Just finishing up with his statement, the private jet begins to shake and the power to his laptop begins to fritz, the screen going black and then back on. Bearded War Pig looks out his window to notice they are flying through a storm on their way to Florida.

“Well it seems we are having a little turbulence and I should probably finish up for now. Just want to say thanks to all the panty dropping, terrorist slaying, and hard chargers out there serving our country, remember keep your heads down and Asses moving. Stay Vigilant XWF and Oink, Oink, Mother Fuckers!”

Bearded War Pig presses the cancel button on the laptop ending the scene.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Night Terrors and Turbulance...
Author	Message