Britannian Special Ops: Tom Foolery

[Bluefog]

Soldier 1 (Frank): Captain Hawthorne sir, may I ask a question?


Captain Hawthorne: Yes soldier, what is your name again?

Frank: It's Frank, sir. I was wondering why we're still out here?


Captain Hawthorne: Well my good man, I wish I knew how to answer that.


Frank: Sir, we been trudging around these parts for weeks now. We're going in circles. What are we looking for?

Sergeant Grimwald: Enough with the bloody questions, the Captain is busy.

Frank: Sir, wait, sir my feet hurt, we been walking a long bloomin' way!


Sergeant Grimwald: You lazy bloke, I've heard enough from you!


Sharpshooter (Smithy): I do believe someone is watching us.


Sergeant Grimwald: You, secure the perimeter!

Frank: Sir, shouldn't we stay together?


Captain Hawthorne: Listen to your superior officer!








Crimson Spider: Hello, Britannians. What are you doing around these parts?


Captain Hawthorne: I don't see how it is any of your business whatsoever.

Crimson Spider: No? Don't I have a right to know what's going on in my own backyard? Don't piss me off, Britannian, I'm not to be trifled with.


Captain Hawthorne: Listen closely, whomever you are, you have one chance to leave now or my squad will make target practice of you.


Crimson Spider: Minions!! SWWWAAAAARRRMMM!!

* BANG * BANG *

AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!




Crimson Spider: Bwahahahahaha!



The mysterious Crimson Spider skulks into the shadows leaving the Britannian Special Ops to be devoured by the deadly spiders.

[Silverdream]

Reminds me of Worm.

[Bluefog]

Two Weeks Ago....



Lord Richard (Dick) Blimey: Ah, Captain Hawthorne, glad you could make it.
Rodney: Derr...
Lord Blimey: This is my idiot son, Rodney, he's a boneriffic man child, please ignore him, his caretaker called in sick. Anyway, nice to see you, Captain.


Captain Hawthorne: You as well, now, Lord Blimey, what can I help you with?


Rodney: Duuhh... heheheeheheehehe


Lord Blimey: Rodney, for heaven's sakes, sit down! Don't touch anything!
Rodney: Durrrr.. Yes, papa.


Rodney: Durrr... me a good boy.
Lord Blimey: Stay there Rodney. Behave. Anyway...


Lord Blimey: It's like this, I received some information about some secret data which would allow myself and my investors the inside scoop into a new business venture.

Captain Hawthorne: You mean like insider trading?


Lord Blimey: No... well, yes, but there are powerful allies in New London that need this deal to go our way and of course a sizable reward for my favorite Britannian Captain.


Captain Hawthorne: What do I have to do?

Rodney: *giggles quietly*


Lord Blimey: Well, I've got the coordinates up on the computer behind us, all you have to do is go there and secure a package.

Captain Hawthorne: Sounds easy enough.

[Insert_blank]

So Rodney messed up the co-ordinates? I started to get offended by your portrayal of MR but then I remembered some of the guys I met in the hospital I used to work at. Carry on. MOre spiders, plz.

[Bluefog]

So Rodney messed up the co-ordinates? I started to get offended by your portrayal of MR but then I remembered some of the guys I met in the hospital I used to work at. Carry on like Bonn-o-Tron. MOre spiders, plz.

Yes, Rodney messed it all up.

I'm being offensive and making no apologies.

I will have more spiders.

[stubby]

I started to get offended by your portrayal of Mike Rayhawk but then I remembered some of the guys I met in the hospital I used to work at.

Those initials though

[Insert_blank]

It's not easy being M.R.

[Bluefog]

Lord Blimey: This is not good. Why the bloody hell haven't I heard from Captain Hawthorne? I'm so royally fucked. I'm even talking to myself.


Lord Blimey: Has there been any communications?

Guard 1: No, m'lord.

Lord Blimey: Not good indeed.


Lord Blimey: These aren't the coordinates... they're... RODNEY!!! I swear that little sodding bastard is out to get me!


Lord Blimey: That boy will be the death of me, the mafia's going to kill me. I promised them this deal would go through.


Lord Blimey: Yup, this is it for ol' Dick Blimey, Lord of oh, who the hell cares?! I'm dead.


All I can do is go to those coordinates and try to fix it myself! I must go!


And with that, the affluent, pompous, under prepared Britannian lord journeyed to the back water, unholy wasteland known as Enclo3.

[Bluefog]

Lord Richard "Dick" Blimey races across the Enclo3 landscape towards the correct coordinates. He cursed his son who seemed to sabotage him at every turn. What's a father to do?


His computer started beeping and he knew he'd found the place. A strange temple that looked abandoned.


Lord Blimey parked his borrowed Britannian transport in front of the temple.




Lord Blimey: This is it.


He walked up the steps and ventured inside to start searching.




Once inside Lord Blimey noticed the strange looking case in the corner of the room which looked like a crypt of some kind.


Lord Blimey grabbed the case and turned to leave when he heard the crackling of a small fire.

Lord Blimey: Bloody Hell!


He reeled backwards as the fire grew in size.


Lord Blimey: This is lunacy?! I must get out of here!


Warhead: BY YOUR ACCENT i CAN TELL YOU'RE A BRITANNIAN. SO I ASK YOU, BRITANNIAN, WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE?

Lord Blimey: My name is Lord Richard Blimey and I'm here for this case here.

Warhead: I DON'T BELIEVE YOU.

Lord Blimey: *gulps*


Warhead: TELL ME WY YOU'RE HERE!!

Lord Blimey: I did, I swear Lord Warhead. I'm here for this case!

Warhead: YOU'RE BRAVE, DICK, I'LL GIVE YOU THAT MUCH.


Warhead: YOU SEE, i'M HERE FOR THIS HAMMER. IT'S CALLED THE SPIDER HAMMER. THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF BORING TALES OF THIS HAMMER, BUT I JUST LIKE HAMMERS SO I'M ADDING IT TO MY COLLECTION.

Lord Blimey: I promise you, Lord Warhead, I have no interest in the Spider Hammer.


Warhead: ...BUT THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT SOMEONE WOULD SAY IF THEY WERE INTERESTED IN MY NEWLY ACQUIRED HAMMER. I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO KILL YOU.


Lord Blimey: No, please...

Warhead: SHHH... DIE WITH SOME DIGNITY.

BB-BOOOOOO--OOOOFF-FFF!!

[Zupponn]

Brutal.

[Natalya]

Classic Warhead move.

[Bluefog]

Warhead quickly descended the temple steps and prepared to phase back to wherever it was he came from... but first....

Warhead: WHAT AN UGLY TRUCK. I THINK I SHOULD SMASH IT. PROBABLY FOR THE BEST.





SMMMMMAAAAA-AAAASSHHH!!




Comrade JAM: Hey, Warhead is it? What do you have there?

Warhead: THE LATEST ADDITION TO MY HAMMER COLLECTION, THE SPIDER HAMMER.

Comrade JAM: You found that hammer on Enclo3 and therefor it belongs to me.


Warhead: FINDERS KEEPERS BITCH!


Comrade JAM: *quietly* I'll fix you.


Comrade JAM: RRR-RRAAHH!!

BOO-OOOFF-FF!!!




Warhead: LISTEN MAN, I WAS COOL WITH THE OLD JAM, BUT THIS SHIT ISN'T ACCEPTABLE.

Comrade JAM: Come get some.




Comrade JAM: Sonuvabitch!!

Warhead: FUCK OFF.

BBB-BBBB-B-BOOOOOO-OOOOFFF-FFF-FFF!!



C-CRASSHH!!




Comrade JAM: *coughs*


Warhead: HAD ENOUGH?

Comrade JAM: Never.




Comrade JAM: You're fucking dead!!


Comrade JAM: GGG-GRRRAAAHHH!!

B-BB-BAAA-AAFFFFF!!




Warhead: FUCKER.


SSWWOOOOSSHH!

SSSSSS-SSMMMMMMMMAAACK!!!




Warhead: ASSHOLE.

[Zupponn]

Git rekt fuul.

[Bluefog]

ONE WEEK LATER...






Britannian Guard 1: Officer on deck!

The Britannian Guards both salute as best they can as their ridiculous restrictive armour doesn't allow a lot of mobility.


Sergeant Stashwell: At ease!


Sergeant Stashwell: Alright, there's been missing persons reports filed for Lord Richard Blimey, Captian Hawthorn and a small Special Ops squad... When's the last time you blokes saw them?

Britannian Guard 1: Sir, about a week ago, Lord Blimey was going on about coordinates messed up or somefing and he used the computer. A week before that we saw him meet wif Captain Hawthorne.


Sergeant Stashwell: You didn't think it odd that a non-military personnel would be using military equipment, you didn't think to report the suspicious meeting?

Britannian Guard 1: It didn't cross my mind really.


Sergeant Stashwell: Of course it didn't, and that's why you're here, and now we see that you can't even watch equipment properly, so how can you be trusted to serve the Britannian League?

Britannian Guard: Sir, I...


Sergeant Stashwell: Don't answer that, it was a rhetorical fucking question, you bloody ballerina! You're lucky that Lord Blimey isn't overly missed. It turns out he was an abusive father to his special needs son and his wife had a large insurance policy.

With that the Britannian Sergeant turned to leave.


Sergeant Stashwell: I'll be back to deal with your conduct, soldier!


"Fuck!" thought the Britannian Guard. He'd really done it this time. He wondered how much more his military career could sink.

[Natalya]

Don't fuck with Warhead.