User blog:The Augster at NK/Pain: An SAS Story

This Mortimer dude is one of the coolest mothafuckin' niggas I've ever seen. He's a tough nugget. Augster would only wish he could be as badass as Mr. Morty over here. Dayum!

But seriously, what the fuck is he doing here? If he ain't gonna talk to Stewie-Bo-Booie, then what business could he possibly have? Anyway, after dissing the shit out of Getty, Mortimer shouted, "FORMATION!" and we all lined up next to Cheif Perry. He went down the line and examined each of us, but then he stopped at me. He said, his voice deeper out loud, "What's your name, cadet?" I responded respectfully. Morty's fists were pretty damn big, if y'all know what I'm saying. "Terrance Dawson, sir. Medic Private." Mortimer rubbed his bearded chin for a few seconds, then whispered to himself, "Cameron, you son of a bitch!" His anger surprised me. "Sir?" I responded. Mort shook his head. "It's nothing, Private," he said, as he held out his hand. "Mortimer Collins, High Gunnery Commander. It's good to see we have young ones eager to be in the SAS." He continued down the formation. My God, these tranfers have sticks up their asses or somethin' cuz they ain't budgin'! Mort kept walking until he reached sweet little Maria. He looked almost scared for a second, but then they exchanged a hankshake and all that. I wonder why he personally saying hi to the two of us, hmm?

'''. .    .'''

Petty Officer Rubio sent me to cargo bay 15, saying, "Mortimer Collins would like to see you." As I walked over to the bay, I wondered what an old member of SAS team 6 would want with a cadet like me. As I entered, I saw all of the cargo bay people going about their business. Packing, unpacking, running between ships, and talking to each other about life. In Sanitation, we don't get to converse with anyone. We have to stay silent our entire 5-hour shift. It's not fair! I don't fucking belong there! Shit, that rhymes! Why does that fucking rhyme? It doesn't matter. I noticed a tall man of African and maybe Hispanic descent in the center of the room, talking to the Cheif Petty Officer in charge. I walked up next to them but didn't interrupt their conversation. After about a minute, Mortimer noticed me. "Private August Lowell. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm High Gunnery Commander Mortimer Collins. Now that you and you two Earthling friends are all here, I'd like to head to the war council room.

And so left for the council room we did, once Terry and Maria were with us. We went through many hallways and finally reached a door labeled, "WAR COUNCIL" that opened into a normal conference room. Commander Getty, Master Cheif Braxton, Admiral Anforth and a Russian man in a General's uniform were sitting at the round table in the middle of the room. Commander Collins joined the high-ranking officers' side of the table, and Terry, Maria, and I sat across from them. Stewart didn't waste a second. He said, "Cadets, you're about to be breifed on the literal most stupid idea you have ever heard in your entire life. Bar none."

The Russian General rolled his eyes. In a strong accent, he said, "I am General Krakus Halentov. It is a pleasure to meet you. Indeed, my plan may seem a little reckless, but I believe it can work. You see, the Special Air Service is fairly lacking in people who have...motivation for a certain task. You three are all related to-"

Stewart stoop up, kicking his chair. "Oh, so because Auggy's distant fucking cousin was some loose-cannon in the team means he gives any fucks towards finding Rick? Because Terry's adoptive mommy was in the squad suddenly means he knows a damn diddly squat about the dude? Where the fuck did all the reasoning and logic you once had run off to?"

Halentov sterly replied, "Commander, sit down and compose yourself! I will not-"

"That's enough, 'General.' I asked for a diversion, don't get ahead of yourself."

The ominous words sounded very farmilar. Standing at the doorway was a fairly tall man clad in HVM carbon fibre armor. I realized that it was this "Petty Joe" guy in Sanititation--the one Getty yelled at a few days ago in the hangar.

I couldn't see Getty through his helmet, but I could hear his heavy breathing chance to fast breathing in an instant. He was afraid. So was Mortimer.

Surprisingly, Maria was the most terrified of all three. Getty slowy grabbed at his tempest, saying, "You son of a cunt!"

Suddenly, Joe leaped forward with a knife and slit Getty's throat at a chink in his armor. Halentov took out a gun and shot Maria somewhere in the ribs. I didn't need to hear Anforth shout, "RUN!" before I picked up Maria and high-tailed it out of the room. Terry followed close behind as intruder alarms began to blare. "What the fuck was that, man?! Holy shit!" I didn't waste any energy answering. We ran until we reached the medbay. I ran inside, and the Cheif Medical Officer was standing up, looking for something. I yelled, "We were in the conference room, and--"

"Shut up and per her on the nearest bed! I know what happened!" he shouted. I found an open bed and placed Maria on it. The officer materialized behind me and I got out of the way immediately. I looked at Terry and said, "I have no fucking idea, dude. No fucking idea."

'''. .    .'''

Christian pulled out a medkit and pressed it against the entrance wound. It hurt like fuck for the first few seconds, but then the inner mechanisms began to clean the wound and pull out the bullet. He left the bed and grabbed a shiny case that looked like it would contain a Critical Mass weapon. He then placed three more cases and open them all up. "Maria, get up. Can you walk?" he asked. I got up and pain shot through the wound in my chest. My vision blurred and I fell to the floor. He looked a little worried. He turned towards Terry and Augie, handing them two different CM weapons. "You two need to carry her, she's not going anywhere. I have to go to the war council and get the Admiral out of there alive. Head to cargo bay 3, where his personal ship is docked. Just follow the signs, and if anyone gets in your way, shoot them. There's been a mutiny." He ran out. Terry and Augie ran over and picked me up. We quickly headed to the table, where Augie picked up what looked like a CM 205 and stuck it in my empty holster. Then we turned around and ran outside.

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">"Which way, homie?" Terry asked. Without saying anything, Augie beckoned his head to the left, and we ran in that direction. As we ran through countless hallways, we passed by running soldiers, many of them looking panicked or confused. I myself was horrified. Rick? On this ship? Chris had told me that he was locked up in a high-security insane asylum! How'd he get out, and on the Medea?

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">My train of thought was interrupted when Terry cried out, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" and fell to the ground. What unfolded next made feel a little scared of Augie. He shoot one of the attacking soldiers with his gun. The next one went hand to hand, grabbing the barrel of the gun and throwing it to the ground. Augie grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulder and punched him in the gut. Then he turned towards Terry and I, and was about to pick us both up when an Australian voice somewhere behind me said, "need some help, mate?"

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">Admiral Anforth was standing in front of what looked like a huge vault, being pulled by several men, including Chris. Anforth pickled Terry up, and Augie helped me off of the ground. The door to cargo bay 3 opened as wee passed through, and Anforth's ship was waiting, facing out into the final frontier.

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">We got on board the ship, and the crew of me secured the vault into place. Suddenly, the door to the bay exploded, and Rick entered the room.

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">"You motherfuckers aren't going aywhere!" he shouted. He ran murderously towards the ship, but Chief Patty Officer Perry, the boss of the Cargo bay, dived out of the ship and tackled Rick. He screamed, "GO! GET OUT OF HERE!" Anforth shouted, "Whoever knows how to pilot this ship, get to the front seat and get us the fuck out of here! The Medea's about to blow! God bless the bravey of or comerade!"

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">However, Perry's life would not be cut short as easily as Stewart Getty's. Rick disappeared in a flash of light, and Perry managed to enter through the closing hatch. I was frantically loking for a seat when Augie shoved the thruster throttle forward and everyone on the ship caught air. We flew out of the hangar, screaming in cofusion as the T.F.V. Medea went up in an infernal explosion. My head hit the wall hard, and I was knocked out.

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;text-align:center;">'''. .    .'''

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">Richard Levesque rematerialized before Combot's central nexus. Rows of green, infected servers surrounded Rick in all directions, and a booming mechanical voice shouted, "MARVELOUS! What an amazing display of BEUTIFUL light! Levesque, you have shown me how worthwhile the efforts I endeavoured to take to break you out of the Notus Asylum!"

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">Rick could only smile. In his insanity, all he cared about was the rush of getting back at Getty for locking him up. He finally felt what it was like to be alive and free.

<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">And yet he was a slave. A slave of the virus, in its most frightful form.