Wabaquiqui

Crimson Waterfall Nightfall He could hear the dirt bikes moving across the muddy and rugged terrain. He locked the ammunition clip in place and whipped away a bead of sweat that had started to run down his brow. The rock face he was lying down on was hard and bumpy and below was a small stream, twisted and narrow thing, that the target would have to cross. The metal body of his MA2A1 SASR Sniper Rifle felt cold in the night breeze that came off the small stream. He could hear the bikes coming closer, maybe a few kilometers off. He checked his weapon one last time for flaws and defects; he had oiled and cleaned it this morning, the scope had

Zero: GOOSE SARGE!!! GOOSE!!! Grenade: BBBBOOOMMMM!!!!!! Sarge: Did you by any chance mean to say DUCK?! Zero: AAAUUUU!!!! I’m O.K.!! (on the ground) Sarge: DUCK!!!! Zero: That’s not a Duck….it’s a GOOSE!!! (getting up) Grenade: BBBBOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!! Sarge: You idiot!!! Zero: AAAAUUUU!!! I’m still O.K!!! (on the ground, again) Sarge: Look, we’re gonna have to defend this position. Can you fire a gun? Zero: Of course!!! This thing goes here, this duhikie goes there, and that thingermagigie goes…ehhh….HERE!!! (holding the gun upside-down, with the magazine in his hand and somehow the trigger i

3:02 Bravo and Delta Squad were approaching their target. Bravo in speed boats, they were to be the distraction so that Delta Squad could infiltrate the Afghanistan Embassy. The plan was that Bravo would storm the fort containing the embassy while Delta Squad flanked the right side of the compound, silently. That was the plan anyway and Matt Browning, the leader of Delta, knew that usually very little went according to a plan. Matt could hear the roar of the Jet Ski’s engine; he could feel the salt on his mouth, the wind in his face and compound devilishly looming in front of him. Delta Squad was a three man team; Captain Matt Browning,