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"The Wolf of Afghanistan" Joshua Schuler · (07-01-2017)

“The War Room”

[video=youtube]https://youtu.be/b6CCcTClgYE [/video]

Continued from Mad Dog 20/20: Mad Dog's White House...

As I hollered out “Mad Dog’s White House!” My fist pounded my chest three times and then I threw up the shaka hand signal. Meaning something completely different to the majority of us grunts who used it as a hand and arm signal for machine guns up. Mad Dog pounds his chest and tosses up a peace before we take off toward the war room. None of the escorting agents follow us through the two large oak doors that are slammed shut as soon as we walk in. Mad Dog escorts me to a seat next to his at the head of the conference table. The chairs are filled and many secretaries stand trying to get as comfortable as possible to take notes for whomever, they represent.

My ass slides smoothly into the very comfortable air rise leather chair. Feeling a little sleepy I decide it will be all right to kick my boots up on the table. Before my boots even touch down the awes and shrieks can be heard.

Thud.

My boots make contact and everyone almost simultaneously closes their eyes, not wanting to witness what they assume will be an ass chewing of a lifetime. Little do they know Mad Dog and I rep the same colors, YO! Then one of the cock taking, suit wearing, desk jockeys decides they will try to issue the verbal assault before the SOD when suddenly the knife hand king’s voice bellows.

Mad Dog: “Okay not that I am here we can begin this briefing as soon as the room is swept and scanned, this is beyond any security clearance. We all know why we are here I assume. If you don’t you probably should get the fuck out now!”

Just as Mad Dog finishes his introduction and shutting down the fuck whit that was about to get dick punched if he was to have said anything remotely offensive. Three agents who have been standing in the back begin to sweep and scan the room with its occupants. With debugging and wire detectors the sweep moves swiftly. Once they make their way to the front of the room with the handheld devices. The senior agent places a small grenade-like device on the table that extends a small tower about four inches from the original height of the device. Suddenly a small red eye turns on in the center and nearly the tippy top of the tower. Infrared beams then scan the room from ceiling to floor. The device then chirps twice and goes silent.

Senior Agent: “All clear and free sir.”

Mad Dog: “Very well. Let's begin the briefing. So we need a team to conduct reconnaissance and surveillance on the almost completely unknown targets. Main concern and the reason for my proposal of this operation is we simply need to know. Do the hybrid animal-people pose a threat to Democracy and Freedom!? If so then we need to know exactly what kind of threat they maybe. I want to know their weaknesses, strengths, headquarters, and anything else that could be essential to defense and or an offensive strike against these unknown beings.

Very little is known we have intelligence that says we have a few locations of where we could possibly discover more. Only two other people besides myself will be given the folder containing the precise locations of our targets. One of those people is the gentleman sitting to my right; his name is Bearded War Pig. The other is his operational partner and the other half of our newest hush, hush asset Robbie Bourbon. Call sign the Motherfuckers, these two men are perfect for this job, and every single one of you will respect their requests as if they were my own.

Now that we have the operational team portion out of the way, I need to know dates times we will have the assets for these heroes if the operation is to go south. That will be delegated to Alpha team, Bravo team I need you to find any and all possible funds we can sneak from without drawing alarm. Charlie, you need to secure me a proper housing facility, in case we contain any person of interest. It needs to be isolated and secure with a layout for interrogation and holding as well as supplies for twenty-four seven living for up to forty people including agents and staff.

Okay, I think that about covers everything, so I want status reports every hour on the hour, we need to get the Motherfuckers in the field as soon as possible. We have no idea what these mutant fucks are capable of or what the hell they want here on our home planet. So light a fire under your asses, snort some cocaine, or whatever the fuck you need to focus and make this mission possible people. Move, move, move DAMMIT!”

Everyone in the war room begins to panic and scatter like chickens with their heads caught off. Until they slowly begin to act like sheep filing out of the room one by one. Leaving Mad Dog and myself alone in private to discuss a few things before I call Robbie and inform him on our next mission for America. Mad Dog looks at me before smacking my boots off the table and giving me the “what are you going to do about it bitch?” look. Cracking a smile before I quickly jolt from my chair and throw a hard left hook toward Mad Dog’s ribs. His knife hand reflects my blow and he slices my throat with another knife hand while leg sweeping me.

My body slams into the floor hard as I gasp for a breath of air from the devastating blow from the old war dog. Holy shit the old bastard still has it, probably because he never gave his soul to a woman. I think to myself as the pain begins to spread down my back from landing so hard. Finally, my breathing begins to return to normal and I can speak.

“Wow! Never will I test your gangsta ever again Mad Dog. You are one badass older gentleman, sir. Not that I never doubted the stories or didn’t know that already but as fast as you still move is incredible.”

[blue]Mad Dog: “Yeah some good advice to pass on, don’t fuck with an older man who is in a profession where men die young. Please though, get the fuck up and stop being a damn pussy. You’re a fucking Marine for fuck's sake and you let my old ass knock you on the ground like that? We do have a few more things to discuss though as well. Not much but a few.”

“Well go ahead and say what you need to say, I’m going to stay down here for a little longer.”

Mad Dog continues to go on about how this mission is very important and how we should conduct ourselves. My ADHD ass is looking up at the ceiling wondering what Robbie is doing and how he is most likely having more fun than me getting beat down by one of my heroes. That is when I realize I am now up on my feet and walking with Mad Dog toward the secret passage to the elevator shafts that lead to yet another secret tunnel system.

I really need to quit daydreaming and being functional at the same time I am thinking when the elevator slams to a stop almost sending me buckling. This time it fails though and I stand tall, not like Mad Dog but tall. The elevator doors open and we exit to find not the limousine we came in on but what looks to be an ice cream truck from the early nineties, maybe even late eighties. Mad Dog waves his arm like he is presenting it to me like it is now mine.

Mad Dog: “They don’t make civilian vehicles like this anymore, back in my day all of them were built like Humvees. Now they are weaker than a tuna can.”

“It looks like it needs to be crushed.”

Mad Dog: “Well it is the surveillance van you two will use, now here are the keys. I have other meetings and SOD matters to attend to. Don’t fail us.”

Mad Dog tosses me the keys, I snatch them mid-air and fist bump the SOD before he begins to head back toward the elevators. In a hurry to get to Robbie and begin our mission, I accidentally bump the Ice Cream truck music button. Not knowing how to turn it off I speed through the tunnels with the nice little tune playing in the background.
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Fade in...

“So when I heard Robbie and I would be facing Thomas Nixon and The Clone of Brock Lesnar next Saturday almost instantly I was thinking, what the fuck? Simply because I thought management was trying to fuck the Motherfuckers since we have already won our first round match. Now come to find out the match isn’t apart of the tournament, either way, the Motherfuckers are the ones who do the fucking around here. So Mr. Nixon, sir, if you and your overgrown science project believe you have any chance in the tournament Saturday is the time to prove what you can bring to the table.

Robbie and I have been training in the ring and out. Physically and mentally, ready for any enemy strike at any given moment. We are the PEOPLES team, the ones to stop whatever your unethical and immoral plan is with clones. It already appears your first has already taken on his own agenda and could care less about your Lizard People or their cause. Now how do you plan to make him wrestle with you as a cohesive unit? I doubt you’ll be able to the behemoth has the same mentality as the real Brock Lesnar, the shit stain of professional wrestling. Big, dumb, and aggressive like a prehistoric being.

Not that big, dumb, and aggressive can’t be useful in the wrestling world but not to the point that man has shown to have no self-control. Hell, he has no control over anything besides how long of an ass whoopin the Motherfuckers are going to put on you two abominations. Don’t worry Thomas, my partner and I will try very hard not to make too much of a mess of your experiment. We’ll try to leave it well enough so the government won’t be able to come and confiscate it. On second thought probably not, The Motherfuckers plan to take this tag tournament by storm!

Even though the match isn’t a part of it, we will be wrasslin like it is. Tooth and nail. No holds bar. Kill and winning mentality. You’re team, Thomas, is going to be crushed. You fucks won’t even make it to your first match in the tournament after the demoralizing loss you are about to be handed. Please though don’t take it too hard; even if you had a real human on your side your fates would be the same. The Motherfuckers are XWF’s tag division!

Thomas Savage is going to be exactly that for you, probably should have just stayed in the Television Championship bracket, instead of hopping to the tag as soon as you lost your belt. Kind of bailed on your fans that loved seeing you as a champion, fuckin rude dude! You shouldn’t have turned your back on them, no, us. Fuckin eh right, I was a fan of yours. Why wouldn’t I, you’re a pretty damn good wrestler with a brilliant mind. The way you brought respect and honor to the championship was very American!

Then came along big bad Jack Cain and stole it out from under you. So instead of dusting off your shoulders and standing tall again ready to throw down. You fucking tucked tail and created a clone of a turd, now that isn’t American at all. Hell, I’d of had more respect for you if you got back up and took and ass whoopin again, at least you fought for what the people and I use to believe was yours. Who knows maybe you might be able to change our view of you again if so, try and make it a positive one. Not that I don’t have any more I feel I should speak out to you Thomas about but I’m sure the people want to hear what I have to say about the other half of your team the walking blabbing cancerous rectum muscle.

Yes, I am talking about you Clone of Brock Lesnar! Now I know it isn’t quite your fault but please just do the people a favor and commit suicide after Bourbon and I welcome you to the XWF the Motherfuckers way! Do you honestly believe that loud cum catcher of yours and you’re steroid induced aggressiveness intimidate us? Get the fuck outta of here, you, probably should just head to Japan and look for a job as a LIZARD monster for knock off Godzilla movies! You’re a development of mad science and you can’t beat us simply because you could never have the heart or courage of a human being.

This tag match is only going to set you up for failure. Do I feel bad, not for you, a little for Thomas, but in my eyes, you are nothing but a disgusting creation from the minds of someone evil. No man should recreate another living being, period. Especially the subject from whom you were created, please don’t shame the people's federation. By that I mean don’t continue to be the shithead that you have shown yourself to be so far. I would say for the people's sake to make sure you keep Thomas tagged in the ring for the pure entertainment aspect, but Robbie and I both care talented enough to make up for the shit show you call wrasslin!

Brock Lesnar may have dominated the WWE but around here winners are predetermined and the suits don’t take two-inch dicks in the butt and love oiling big muscles. Basically, the point I am trying to make is, you should probably take whatever advice Thomas has for you. Listen to his every word like a good little boy, so maybe, just maybe you can last and shine a little around here. Whatever the fuck you do, don’t trust your instincts because if they are anything like the real Brock like you have shown the XWF universe to be true, it is only going to bring you negative comings. The XWF is a whole new world than what is most likely preprogrammed in your brain. Oh and Oink, Oink Motherfucker!”

Fade out!

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