Thread: The Ditch Diggers (LeftShield x Broomhandle45)

London, UK. February 3rd, 0900 Sir all I need is the go ahead! I don't need resources, men, anything! Just give me permission to bring a war criminal to justice, it's all I'm asking. A young man pleaded on the other side of a long oak table. The older, mustached man he was pleading to looked tired. No doubt from the constant barrage of requests from the soldier in front of him. Sargent for the last time, you are a soldier, not an assassin, detective, or military police. Your job is in war, not hunting down some man. It's not some man sir, he's killed one of the most decorated men in the history of the British military. We spent a month looking for him, one month, and now the bastard goes free to do what he wants? All I ask sir is you give me one year. I know it's a lot of time but we're in no active engagements, if for some reason we go to war I'll be back on the front line but please sir- Son it sounds like you need to go give whatever info you have to the military police and drop off your resume while you're at it. The old man said with a sigh getting up and going across the room to a bottle of brandy. He filled a glass a quarter of the way and sipped at it. ...Tell me, Sargent, can you honestly say that this is for your country? Or is this escapade more for you? The young soldiers' demeanor broke for a moment. Sir I'd be lying if I said it wasn't personal. The old man nodded and sat back down. When one's father is murdered, it always will be....Well, better to give you permission than have you go AWOL on us and spend money tracking you. He said opening a folder on his desk. You mean it, sir?! On one condition, you bring them back alive. All of them, so they spend their life in prison. You'll have the slight funding you need to hunt but no more. Am I understood? Yes, sir! Of course, sir, thank you! You won't regret this! He says with a smile before standing and walking out of the room. His smile fades as he walks down the hall with purpose. He mutters with anger under his breath. Your day has come, Cole Manchester. Saudi Arabia. August 18th, 1300 Cass....Caaaaasss.....CASS! WHAT?! Cassius O'Reily yelled as he was pulled out of his desert daze. He looked over at Cole with an anger that only hours of driving with the man could produce. Geez, what crawled up your cooter? Relax why don't you, I was just trying to have a conversation. Cole Manchester said with a roll of his eyes. What is it big guy, all that desert heat getting on your bald head making you grumpy? Cole asked with a grin, reaching over and trying to rub Cass's smooth head. Before Cole could touch it though, the click of a hammer being pulled back could be heard. Cole stopped and looked at him, ....You're bluffing. Was I bluffing the last time I shot you? Cass asked. Cole stared him down for a few more seconds before pulling his hand back. Why'd I have to have you in the passenger seat? You should have taken an extra car and rode behind me. I could have brought that belly dancer along instead of your ass. I'm the only one that could tolerate you for twelve hours of driving without shooting you...though you're pushing it. Will you watch the road? What road?! We're in the desert, what's going to happen?! We'll hi- Cole- Let me finish dammit! I haven't had sex in two weeks cause I've had to been tied up with your big ass in the stupid warehouse. Waiting for some arms dealer to call about a bunch of RPG's. So excuse me while I vent instead of watching the- The truck lurched forward as it was slammed to a complete stop. There was a brief moment of pause as both of them waited for the hundreds of rockets in the back to blow and kill them in an instant. After a minute of silence the two let out a breath of relief. Watching the empty desert road...did I hit a fucking rock? Cole asked getting out of the truck. Once again you running your mouth has ended up badly. Who would have thought? Cass said with a smirk as he walked to the front of the truck and saw the destroyed tire. Fuck....FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!...WELL?! What are you waiting for? Call them! We're already gonna be late having to replace the tire. Cole said as he went to the cab to get some water. Me? Why do I have to call them? Cause I'll get chewed out for crashing the truck, something we don't have time for. Just tell them to bring a 29575R22.5. Cole yelled as he got under the cab to look at the damage. Haven't talked to them in two weeks and the first thing word to them is Cole crashed the truck.....kind of like Ma- Don't say it!! Don't!! We promised we'd never mention it!!.... ....Morocco, kind of like Morocco. I fucking hate you.