The Trip or Violating Every Law in the Geneva Convention
The smut stops here!
You want yiff? Go and read a yiff story!
This still a story intended for 18 years or older readers. There will be blood and Machete like gore, at some point.
This shit feels rushed and that's because it is... for good reason (see latest journal)
Read, Rate and Comment! Hell, point out things that are wrong with it.
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The week passed without incident, a few talks with An-Rika...heh; that was something to get used to but I liked how it rolled off the tongue. But I am a wolf of my word and this is going to be my final job. After that; it's a villa in the Caribbean for the rest of my natural life booze in one hand and my arm around Rika...
"HOLY TITTY FUCKING SHIT!" I swerved to the left almost hitting an old woman crossing the street, an unfortunate consequence of my day dreaming. Getting back on track I checked my radio's clock and saw I was running a bit late for my flight to Ft. Williams, located in a land no one cares about. It happens when you get a long goodbye kiss I guess...which led to a goodbye blowjob...which led to goodbye sex...ah Rika. I'm gonna miss you while I'm dodging bullets and saving the world.
The rest of the drive is uneventful and I arrived at the private airport the Big Three (they needed a name) had told me about in a phone conversation earlier in the week. It wasn't much, old and derelict, wouldn't attract attention to an untrained eye, unless you happened to notice the sparkling G3 in the hanger. My employers weren't kidding when they said it was all expenses paid, but my only worry was the impression it would make upon arrival. Not just the 'hoity torte' mercenary impression, but for the enemy to see me arrive. I wanted to make a silent arrival and blend in with the local forces as quickly as possible. If Jacob knew I was coming then he'd look for me, something that could work both ways.
I pulled into the airfield and was walking toward the hanger when two big bulls stepped out of the shadows. Clad in black suits and ties the men looked like something out MIB. One of them held his hoofed paw out in front of me and I stopped in my tracks just inside the hanger.
"Hold it there short stuff. Just what do you think you're doing?" He spoke with a deep, rough voice. Not in any way militaristic and that's when I got worried. They could have been waiting for me and my job would be finished before it even started, I started to back away thinking if I could reach my car I'd be safe. It was going well until as I was stepping back I suddenly felt hard abs at my back and a heavy paw on my shoulder, the other bull.
"I've got him Bill, why don't you go and check our mangy friend's car?" The other bull was just holding me in place with one paw while Bill walked around us and towards my car. A beautiful, red Mustang GT I had bought on a whim. I wasn't worried what he would do to her, I was worried about what he was gonna find, mainly my M4 in the trunk. The bull came back for my keys and disappeared behind his equally large friend to ruffle through my car. I heard him open the driver side door and pop the trunk which is when the fear began to etch into my veins.
"HOLY-E SHIT! Kyle, bring him over and take a look at this shit!" Fuck, he found the case. I was turned around and walked/pushed towards my car. The bull named Bill was fiddling around with my rifle. Popping magazines and dropping them out, thankfully the safety was on otherwise he might have blown off his face. When Kyle brought me to the car he stopped messing around with my rifle and laid it against the side of the car not that far out of reach and put the magazines on the trunk as he closed it. "Now what kind of fur carries that kind of firepower around with them everywhere they go?"
"A fur you don't want to fuck with." The paw on my shoulder shook as Kyle let out a huge laugh.
"We shouldn't fuck with him Bill, he looks dannnngerous." He cackled again and Bill joined in.
"Oh look at me; I'm the big scary Coyote! Yeah right, I'm shaking in my suede shoes shorty." I had enough of this. Make fun of my species? That's fine. But make fun of my height? Now you're asking for it. I kicked my foot out and caught the butt of the rifle, sending the tip in between the bull's legs. His eyes went cross and dropped to his knees (unknowingly he fell back onto the tip) and held his wounded junk in his hands. I stamped on Kyle's right foot and delivered an elbow into his ribs, his paw released my shoulder as the air left his lungs and he fell back clutching his ribs. I took the opportunity to dive forward and grab my rifle (upon picking it up, I accidently drove the tip into Bill's junk again), grabbed a clip and slammed it into the rifle and chambered a round. Bill was out of commission so I pointed the rifle at Kyle he immediately threw his paws into the air as his expensive pants were stained with urine.
"Now then, why don't you tell me what you're doing here?"
His knees shaking the bull reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. Written on it in big bold letters was: Santa Cristo Private Security. "We'll protect your client like they were gold." Well shit, I had just attacked to security guys who were protecting their client's plane. It answered one question but opened another more important one: where was my plane? Almost by chance I saw Kyle turn his attention to the sky and let my guard down to do the same. There was an object headed towards us, I couldn't tell what it was even by squinting. But as it drew closer I began to make out four engines and realized it was a plane, headed straight for the runway. My ride. I left the two quivering security guards to pick themselves up and boarded the plane.
It was a C-130 Hercules, a good stand by in the Armed Forces. But at the time, what I didn't understand was how it crossed the ocean. It could go over two thousand miles on a full tank but even that wasn't enough. A vixen dressed in an Army uniform walked down the gangway after the plane landed. Completely ignoring the current situation I was in, she calmly walked up to me.
"Coyote?" She asked candidly.
"No, one of these bulls is the Coyote." I said sarcastically. "I take it your my ride?" She didn't answer, it was obvious enough. She just turned on her heel and walked back towards the plane. I followed shortly after grabbing the rest of my equipment out of the trunk. As I walked up the stairs to the plane I turned and waved good-bye to my bull friends. "See you later fellas and don't touch the car. It's rigged to shoot out flames if you try to tamper with it."
All I heard was sobbing from Bill as he cradled his junk.
"What was that all about?" Asked the Vixen when I was strapped in.
"Just a little case of mistaken identity and a few bad decisions." She didn't say anything else and quickly moved up to the cockpit with the pilot. "Hey, when do you start serving drinks?"
The plane ride was short and after jumping from landing strip to landing strip I finally arrived at Ft. Willard located in the middle fucking nowhere. We got right down to business as soon as I got off the plane. I was introduced to a tall muscular Timber Wolf named Staff Sergeant Swift and his squad of Rangers who I would be working with as a liaison per the agreement with my employers. I wasn't treated to a briefing and it would have been a waste of time anyway. I knew who I had to kill and the Army had a general idea of where to find them. I was given about twenty minutes to unpack my suitcase and was sent to a vacant tent to do so, with the base commander telling me.
"I don't want to see what you brought, for all I know it's something that violates every law of the Geneva Convention."He left before I could show him what I brought. All I had was my M4, a 9mm Beretta and enough clips to take on a small army. Everything else I was going to get from the base, which almost as if on cue Swift walked into the tent and tossed a set of ACU's at me.
"Don't want you sticking out like a sore thumb in jeans." He left me to change and get the supplies I had requested. The clothes were a little tight but it would do and I slung my M4 over my shoulder as I walked out. I met Staff Sergeant Swift as he was returning to the tent, arms stacked with a few ammo packs and a good number of grenades. We kneeled down and I got to setting myself up. Sticking my clips into the holders and clipping grenades onto my belt. I felt like a proper action star instead of a deadly mercenary. When that was done we walked towards a small convoy of HUMVEES which would serve as our transportation to what the natives called the "Valley of Souls."
"Apparently, they see it as a final resting place for their dead. Not that they bury them there, but they make sure the burial plots face towards the Valley. They imagine the soul will depart the body and go to rest in the Valley." Swift explained the meaning of the name as we drove towards the Valley.
"Shouldn't we worry about that then? In their eyes we're violating a holy place." Swift nodded and told me that the Army had talked with the local Elders and we were given special 'blessings' to enter the Valley.
"From what I was told, the fighters who have holed up there are corrupting the land. We're going to 'cleanse' it for the Elders. All while doing a service for the US of A." The rest of the ride was uneventful and after an hour we arrived at the entrance. A tall and narrow archway stood between us and the Valley. We exited the HUMVEES and started walking into the entrance as the vehicles did a U-turn to return to base. Swift didn't introduce me to his squad, but I did a mental headcount of those present. There were two other Wolves besides Swift; three Doberman Pinchers and lastly two Jaguars who put together, made up 'the deadliest bunch of motherfuckers you could find.' I had no doubt in those words; Rangers are some of the best Infantry units that could be put into the field.
The archway was followed by a corridor flanked by two mountains. I spotted carvings in the sides of each mountain written in a language I couldn't understand. But I assumed it was some kind of burial rite considering the purpose of the Valley. The corridor wasn't too long and it only took five minutes to reach the other side.
"Oh look, more sand!" Cried out one of the wolves, a swift hand to the back of his skull silenced him.
"Shut up Carlos." Swift turned back towards me as we walked. "Our objective is just across this dune and by 'our' I mean my squad. Where yours is...well I could give a shit less, but he's in there too. At least that's what Military Intelligence tells us."
The walk through the dune was quiet and short. We kept our heads on a swivel but there was nothing but the mountain in front of us. The possibility of enemies hiding in the sand was explored but it didn't seem likely. The air held some kind of tension. We were going to fight, but this wasn't a video game. You don't regenerate lost body parts by hiding behind some cover for five seconds and you can't camp around. This is as real as it gets and it scares anyone. I don't care who you are but when the bullets fly you're just as furry as the rest of us.
A half hour passed and I found myself crouching behind a dune with the squad. The mountain where Jacob Black was hiding was right in front of us, Swift had a pair of binoculars out and was scanning the ridge.
"It's definitely inhabited; there are rope ladders and walkways going into different caves. I can see a few sentries here and there. Don't know how many guys we're dealing with though. But our boy's gotta be inside. Let's wait a bit, see if we can't find some kind of way with dealing with so many hostiles."
"Why can't we just bomb the place to kingdom come?" Carlos asked.
"Two words: public relations." He handed the binoculars to me and gave me a chance to scan the ridge as he spoke. "Remember, this a holy place to the locals. It wouldn't look good if command had a gunship come and blow the hell out of it. Besides, it gives us something to do...So here's the pl-"
"DISPLACE!"
The ground lifted up underneath our feet and suddenly everything went black.