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So Much For R&R

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Summary: The Losers get a new teammate. Losers, here is Anya'Bella Seryna Mae Bloom Lautner, your new nightmare of a teammate. And there be blood. Unashamed Mary-Sue!Bashing, because it's fun.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Losers, TheATLenyaFR1815,8350237524 Nov 1124 Nov 11Yes
Disclaimers: None of it is mine. Feel my sorrow as my heart breaks…
'Verse: Weird mix of comic!verse and movie!verse
Rating: T because Clay's inner voice is dirty as hell (and cuz my mind to type censors have all disappeared lately)
A/N: I'm pretty sure I'm going to need to shower with hospital-grade bleach based cleaners or something after this. It's all because of the Mary-Sues I keep finding on nearly all my fandoms! I swear! It's clinging to me like … something really clingy…
Also: This is totally a work of fiction of course, but in no way based in any particular piece of fanfiction. If you find similarities, well tough shit, I dunno, I don't remember much of the MS I read, because it hurts my brain like a heartattack… waitwhat?
And also, the military jargon and the chronological sequencing of the wars and everything is waaay off, cuz well… it's a Mary-Sue ain't it? Have you ever seen a MS where the author actually DID research their subject? Yeah, me neither… andalsoI'mverylazyrightnow…
And: It's my longest OneShot ever! *wipes a little tear of pride*



So Much For R&R

Clay kept staring with a bit of incomprehension at the General in front of him.

"Sir… with all due respect… are you fucking insane?" The younger soldier asked, with a strangled cough.

"Colonel, this is an order… this recruit has been recommended for Special Ops by the entirety of the Joint Chiefs Staff and her files have the Presidential seal! I can assure you that this is no laughing matter!" The older man retorted forcefully.

The Losers' CO kept staring suspiciously at his own commanding officer.

"But you were saying, not a week ago that you wouldn't throw the balance of my team anymore, when Peters left! You said a 5 men team was more than enough, especially with how no newbie seem to cut the deal!" He continued to protest, trying not to think about the file the General had thrown into his hands, containing the information they had about this potential recruit.

For a second, Clay was nearly sure he'd seen a flash of something akin to embarrassment flash across his senior officer's face before it went back to its usual "I'm the boss just shut up" expression.

"This is not a matter for discussions, Colonel, she will arrive at your barracks at 1300 sharp, I trust you'd have put your team up to date by then…" The man said before turning back to his paperwork in a very clear dismissal.

Clay toyed a few seconds with the idea of throwing caution to the winds and just ram into the guy and maybe punch him, but even if he was known for his borderline disobedience, this was one he couldn't pull. Not so close to the last fiasco with the Hungarian militia and that cargo of sex toys. So he just took a deep breath, saluted and stormed out with as much dignity as he could.

What the fuck had the highers up smoked lately to come up with this level of fucked up stupidity? They wanted to add a newbie to their team? To the Losers? He hadn't read the files yet and he knew it'd all come crashing down around them. As if it wasn't enough, the newbie was a GIRL?

It wasn't actually the first time they'd done that, trying to foist some poor bastard onto the Losers, but each time, the guy had lasted a mission maybe two, before either demanding an transfer or out right stepping down from military service.
Scuttlebutt had it, that the bets around the "Losers Newbies" got none of them lasting more than 3 missions, and the shortest stint was 3 days. But that had not been the Losers fault, not really.
If the guy couldn't understand that "don't touch that" means "don't touch that", and couldn't understand that the "nerd" of the team was still part of an elite Black Ops team and therefore very capable of kicking his newbie ass from here to Guam with his eyes closed and a hand behind his back, then it was all on him.

And also, Clay had an encompassing trust for his team, had to, with the shit they had to pull on a nearly weekly basis. But he just knew that putting a fucking chick in the midst of that band of crazies was just asking for trouble. Sure, Jensen was like an overgrown puppy on meths and Cougar had the whole silent and deadly thing going on, but even if they didn't somehow react negatively to this shitstorm, he was just that Roque would blow a casket.
Thankfully, Pooch was married and happily so, he was pretty sure the guy would control his baser instincts.
But when you had to spend a fucking month in the middle of the Amazonian forest, tracking an illegal weapon trade facility, sometimes even the most straight and narrows got a little out of wack. And his team wasn't all that straight and narrow.

This was just going to blow over and he just prayed that he'd be able to pull out his team before it did.
His pace had led him back very automatically to the temporary quarters that had been given to his team. He could see his second in command sitting next to the door, sharpening one of his many freakishly big knives, and passed him with a quick "Roque! I got news! Get inside!".

Inside, the other 3 Losers were scattered around the barrack, Cougar was cleaning his gun for something that felt like the hundredth time in a week, Pooch was messing around with a part of a carburator and Jensen was sitting on his bed (with pants on, thank you fucking lord), his laptop on his knees, seemingly hacking some server or other (he'd already asked the young blonde not to hack into the Pentagon, that was as far as he could go with that brat, especially when he was bored).

"Losers! To me!" He barked as he came to stand between their beds, waiting for them to stand up and come around him, leaning on the various contraptions.

"Hey Colonel, I sent your order for new firearms, but I'm not sure if it got through regs or not…" Jensen told him with his shit-eating grin.

Little fucker knew quite well that when Clay had said "Of course, Jensen, why not ask for pink Sigs with little flowers on 'em", he was being sarcastic, but apparently, he hadn't gone through enough CAPE these last few days to stop him from pulling that type of stunt.
Ignoring his infuriating communications expert, the Colonel looked down at the manilla file in his hand and glared.

"Brass want us to take on another recruit in." The man growled, throwing the file in his hands to Jensen. "Jensen, you find me all you can on that one. Supposed to arrive at 1300, so 3 hours. You have thirty minutes."

The communication expert nodded. He was already going back to his laptop as he flipped the folder open, before suddenly stop in his tracks.

"Uh… Colonel…" He started, looking at the folder and then back at Clay several times.

"Yes, Jensen…" His CO asked, gritting his teeth.

"The… hm… that recruit…" The blond man continued, sounding more and more hesitant as he did.

"Yes, Corporal?" The older man continued, knowing oh so well what his soldier was going to ask but without being able to say it himself.

"Sir… that's a girl's name on that paper…" The hacker finished, looking halfway between incredulous and "what the fuck is going on here?".

Pooch was the first to react to that statement. Yelling a loud "WHAT?" he went to their blond teammate and snatched the folder from his unresisting hands.

"Who the fuck names their daughter 'Anya'bella Seryna Mae Bloom-Lautner'?" The man asked with disbelief, while Jensen downright giggled (fucking giggled like a little girl, he could nearly see him with ponytails and all!) next to him.

"And you thought 'Porteous' was bad!" The younger man guffawed before shutting up when their transport expert slugged him in the arm with a glare. "Right, getting on with the info hunt, gotcha!"

As their hacking expert did his magic with his computer with only one request from Clay that "no Jensen, you can't take off your pants to hack! I don't care if it's more comfortable you just can't!", the other 4 sat down in a semi circle passing the folder back and forth.

"Colonel, you've got to be shitting us here, there's no way this piece of bull is real!" Roque snapped, looking up from the papers in his hands as he passed them to Cougar.

"My hands are tied, Roque, what do you want me to do?" Clay sighed in frustration."

¡Santa Madre!" Cougar swore in a low voice before looking up at his CO, looking caught between scared and disbelieving. "Why does a dies y siete años chiquita have a Purple Heart, Colonel?"

"You know how people get awarded a Purple Heart, Cougar…" The CO groaned with a frown. "17? That girl is 17?"

"Yeah, sir, the info say she's been in the Army for… what the… how can she be in the Marines for 6 years? That'd make her 11 when she started! What the hell is that piece of crap?" Pooch demanded, looking up from it again after Cougar had passed it back to him, then flinging the folder on the bed.

"Settle down, boys, we'll just get all the fact from her when she gets there…" Clay finally stated, seeing his team immediately trying to calm down, as he looked back at his hacker. "Jensen? What more can you tell us about the recruit?"

"Uh… if I can believe my sources, she's got a rapsheet bigger than all of ours together, sir…" Jensen replied with a very clear air of disbelief to him (that was starting to become a theme around here). "So Anya'bella something something, I'm sorry that name really is too long for me to bother… Daughter of Mad Bull Bloom, the British General from the first Desert Storm, you know the one that helped and was Lordified or whatever after his action in Koweit? Yeah, anyway, that's her daughter. Mother, no name something Lautner, both parents die in tragic accident with a polar bear and a fishing boat, while on a trip to Alaska, she's the sole survivor, had to eat her parents to survive. Was raised by mooses and then a tribe of Native Americans before going back to the States, emancipated to get a degree in Quantum Physics and Mastery in Scientology. Started out in Navy training, shipped out to Irak, helped Mossad, helped cull the insurgents, shipped to Afghanistan, helped the Green Berets, the SEALs, trained Black Ops, trained snipper recruits, hacked into the White House mainframe to prove a point about security risks, oh she loves knives and making things go boom apparently… and volatile men…"

Clay tried not to twitch a muscle when all 4 members of his teams looked at him pointedly at that last comment.

"Listen, I'm sure we can come up with some way to have that girl transferred again." The CO continued, trying to appease his team's mind. "None of the other recruits stayed so why would she?"

Even to him, that sounded half-assed and a little too hopeful. But he ignored the little niggling at the back of his head that was nearly always there were a situation was about to turn completely FUBAR.
For the next 2 hours or so, the whole team stayed in the barrack trying to come up with plans to get the newbie to butt out, or at least, take her through appropriate trials (by fire usually) to stay on the team.

At 1300, on the dot, a throat clearing caught the attentions of all the men, who'd been so deep into their planning that they'd been uncharacteristically oblivious to the rest of the world.
The Losers turned around to face the newcomer. It was a young woman, in unusually tight military blues, with a disgusting amount of decorations and barrettes that didn't make any sort of sense when considering she was no more than a Corporal. The newcomer was slim and curvy, with sparkling jade doe eyes and a creamy white skin. Her longer than should be allowed in the military hair, was a very irregular auburn peppered with long green and white bangs. On her dainty head, casting mysterious shadows on her face was a leather cowboy hat with a small smiley tag on the side. Even from afar, they could distinguish her plump and luscious lips as they stretched into a daredevil smile, revealing a range of pearly-white teeth.The young woman slid forward, with a grace akin to that of a prowling feline and once a few steps from the men, snapped into a perfect salute and stayed at attention in front of them.

"Corporal Anya'Bella Seryna Mae Bloom-Launter, reporting for duty, sir!" She said in a no-nonsense tone, her voice clear as an enchanted bell.

The Losers looked at each other for a minute, silent communication passing like it was prone to do between people that lived and fought in such close quarters as theirs. Yes, this one definitely had to go.



Dear Diary,
I know it's been some time since the last time I wrote in you and for that I apologize. But life as been hectic since I returned from Afghanistan after helping those poor misguided Green Berets. I actually got a new Purple Heart! Can you believe it? I feel so ashamed, all I did was single-handedly rescuing a whole platoon of soldiers that had been made POW (that means Prisoner Of War, diary, I don't know if I ever used that term in you before!) but anyway, I rescued them from this Al-Quaida complex in the middle of the desert and escaped with all of them without losing any, even the most heavily wounded. But that's such a small thing to do! I only wish to serve my country, like my poor father who died in that boating accident with the penguin, like I told you about before. Although my dad was British and I'm American, because obviously, I'm in the Army and I'd have to be American for that! Ahahah.
Anyway, like I said, things have been hectic. General Stormwell (you know, the one I rescued from an assassination plot and that, I am pretty sure, wanted to ask me to marry him?), well he had me transferred into this new team. They call themselves "The Losers". It's so sad though, don't you think? To go into suicide missions and very secret ones with a name like that, it's like they are just asking to lose! So I decided that as soon as I would have bonded with the team (because there is no reason why I wouldn't! I am after all, an accomplished fighter, trainer, snipper, driver, hacker and piano player), I would have them change the name to something more fitting, like "The Winners" or even "The Alpha Team" or something. But I will probably have a very clever idea of what name would fit us more later, when I'll propose the idea to the commanding officer.
It is funny to have the opportunity to work under a commanding officer again. It has been so long since the last time, do you remember? I think it was when I was still in the Marines, before I got the derogation from the President to become an Army soldier. For now, I must finish packing my ultra-sophisticated snipper rifle that I got from the manufacturer because he owed me a favour for saving his wife and 4 kids, as well as the collection of knives I got while travelling around the world, saving lives and eating healthy world food. So I will leave you now diary and come back later.

Xoxo
AbSMBL



Dear diary,
I have finally met my new team, and I can already feel that our collaboration is going to be the work of legends. It was a bit awkward at first but I think I understand them better now that I've met them.
First there's the Colonel, Franklin Clay, he's very paternal and nice kind of commanding officer. I could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling at me when we met. But I couldn't help but think that that was a bit of attraction lurking in his dark brown eyes. I wish he wouldn't fall for me, it's so unfair, when I will be unable to return his feeling! Because you know diary, I am still in love with you-know-who, even after all these years and after he literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it with his big military reg. boots.
Anyway, there is also, Roque. I don't really remember his last name. ahahah. Roque is fun too, he looks all gruffy and menacing but I know in his heart, he is just a big teddy bear. And he loves knives, from what I understood! I should show him my collection someday!
After Roque, there's the Pooch. He's the driver-guy. I think he has a little something for me to, but like I said, my heart is already taken, and I will have to have a serious talk with him, because I am pretty sure that he is actually married and I can't take the thought of breaking up another marriage! Not after General Stormwell!
After the driver-guy, there was Carlos Alvarez, or as they call him "Cougar". My heart immediately got a painful pang when my eyes met his Spaniard eyes. I could feel in my chest that he was hurting. He is very quiet and doesn't really talks a lot, but I know that it is all to hide the pain of a trauma he experienced in one of his missions. Maybe if I told him about the children I rescued from that hellhole in Sudan, he'll open up to me and tell me what made him so silent. And can you believe this, diary? He has a cowboy hat! Just like mine! Only without the smiley tag that I got from the children in Sudan. He is the sniper of the team, maybe one day I could sit down with him and help him get better had shooting? After all, I am a certified trainer as well!
The last is Jacob Jensen. It made me laugh when I heard his first name and I just had to ask if he knew a "Jacob Black"! ahahah! He is the communications and hacker expert. I should probably give him some pointers too. After all, I am one of the best there is, so why not spread the knowledge! He is a very funny guy and he couldn't stop babbling when I talked to him, I think he may have a budding puppy love for me, but I'll have to disappoint him as well. I wish the men I met stopped falling for me, it really is a curse, to be as beautiful and talented as I am, sometimes.

So I have met my new teammates and we talked about me for some time, so that they could get to know me. They all were very interested by everything I told them of course, even if Roque had to go vomit at some point, I think he must have had some food poisoning. I proposed to diagnose him, as I have done an undergraduate diploma in differential diagnosis, but he refuted. A real cuddly teddy bear, I tell you! And Cougar looked so angry on my behalf at some point, I think he nearly broke his visor.
All in all, our first meeting passed splendidly. I am going to get my own room near the barracks, because apparently, they couldn't get another bed for it, but it's okay. I'll just spend all my time in there with them anyway. And they looked so sad that I just had to promise to be there everyday with them. They really are precious.

Our next mission will be in two weeks, we will be leaving for Paraguay, it's lucky that I speak both Spanish and Portuguese as well as a few other languages, that way I will be able to play interpret, even if the boys declined my help out of embarrassment. I need to start re-packing my things, so I'll leave you to that, dear diary.XoxoAbSMBL



The Losers were sitting around a table, in a shady nondescript bar, each nursing a glass of some quality spirit and a developing headache.

"Colonel… that… that thing has only been here for a day and I think, no I know if it doesn't get booted quickly, I'mma cut it open and dance in its guts…" Roque growled as he downed his glass of whiskey.

"At ease, soldier. I know, but as long as she doesn't leave on her own volition or by the General's orders, I can't do much…" Clay replied, just as grim.

"Look, guys, maybe you're all being a bit quick to judge on this girl! Who knows, maybe she's actually as good as the files said!" Pooch tried to interject, playing the Devil's Advocate, even if it sort of killed him a little inside.

"Pooch, we all read the file, we certainly didn't need to hear the narrative from her mouth, describing every fucking details of why she's 'supra-awesome' and 'so talented it's a curse'." Their CO replied to him with a wince, at the remembrance of the very long and painful afternoon that that was (could you even believe that this was just a few hours ago? Thank god they'd gotten her another room and sent her to it before leaving base to come here…). "She likes to hear her own voice, man, can you imagine how that'd play out in combat situation?"

The other two Losers just sort of looked at each other, wincing at the thought of even just one mission with that thing following them around. Suddenly, their hacker hit the table with his fist, very noisily attracting his teammates attention (that had wondered into thoughts of the hell that had yet to come).

"Colonel, you said she has to leave on her own volition, right?" The young bespectacled soldier said, a purely evil smile blooming on his face. "Then we'll have to make sure, that she wants nothing more than to leave…"



And thus started the "Very Very Special And Important And Secret Mission Of Getting That Crazy Ass Bitch Out Of The Team A.S.A.P. Before Roque or Cougar Could Get Their Hands On Her And Get Thrown To Jail For Wilful Torture Of Innocent (my ass) American Citizen" (for god's sake Jensen! Stop writing up stupid names for the missions! And it's not even a real mission! Well, it is one for us. But it's more a self-appointed task and we don't get paid for it soah hell! Just stop it Jensen!). So, the task was underway.
As the boys didn't want to believe a word of what was written in all the reports they'd gathered on Anya-whatshername "call me Ab sir, it's shorter and some say it's cute", so they were more or less flying in blind.

The next day, it was decided to crank up the PT to see if a day in Hell, 100% Losers-style would make her infuriating and slightly creepy smile, at least dim a little.But after starting at 3am, for 11h swinging from 100 miles runs, with 70lbs backpacks, to track sprints, to that one exercise Clay had seen in "The Guadian" (Not a word, Jensen!) where they had to stay for 5 hours in a ice-cold pool, while holding a dummy weight.
It became apparent that Ab was either a fucking moron, oblivious to everything that didn't fit in her perfect little world, or had a death wish.
They went back to the barracks, dead on their feet and ready for at least 15hours of pure coma, while she bounced, fucking bounced, ahead of them, prattling along about nice exercises and she felt really sore but in a good way, y'know?

When there, the merry band decided to collapse in their beds, ignoring Ab who was still prattling about something or other before soon disappearing from view when she somehow realized that the attention wasn't on her anymore.

"Colonel? How long d'you think we should keep that up? Because, I'm not complaining or anything, but… well I have this thing, it's a real interesting thing and it's called 'health' and for some reason, I know it's silly but, I'm pretty sure that this 'health' thing is going to go out the window very soon, if we keep that up… sir." Jensen found the strength to tell, before simply passing out on his spot.

Clay winced from his own bed and sat back up, ignoring the vehement protest from his aching muscles.

"I'm going to go see if I can at least get an explanation out of the General." The CO explained to his mostly catatonic team, before leaving them.

So, taking his time (because frankly, right then, his aches had aches), the man walked back to the main buildings, it was still early enough that the paper pushers would still be around.
Barely acknowledging the secretary, he pushed his way into the General's office, where the big man was doing some paperwork or other.

"Sir, with all due respect, if you don't tell me immediately why that thing you transferred to us is here, and why I shouldn't have her court-martialled for breathing, I think we'll have a problem…" Clay immediately stated, glaring hotly at the older man, catching his slight wince before he could cover it up.

General Stormwell stared at him for a good minute before sighing deeply, putting down his pen in the process.

"Corporal Bloom-Lautner is there because most of the Higher-Ups and myself are hoping that she'll get into a potentially harmful situation and maybe sadly be declared KIA as soon as possible…" He finally admitted, elbows on the table, looking unduly grave.

"So, you think that the Losers are going down sometime soon? Really, sir, I thought you knew my team more than that…" Clay retorted, coming to sit in front of the General's desk, forgetting about his aching body for a moment.

"I know the reputation of your 'Losers', Colonel Clay. But this is a desperate situation!" The other man replied, with a shake of his head. "She has enough clot inside and outside of the US military services, that we can't simply force her into retirement. I don't know how she managed that, but she saved too many of our Brass and other people for us to dismiss her easily. And we couldn't do that to the civilian world either. Can you imagine what she would do? She fancies herself a trainer. Can you imagine her as any kind of teacher?"

Clay couldn't help the wince that appeared on his face at the thought. Sure, he didn't have any kids (thank god for small mercies, his personality with the personality of the type of… volatile… women he usually shacked up with? That was a recipe for chaos and trouble) but that didn't stop him from feeling sorry for any poor bastard that would have that as a professor.

"She's been bouncing from team to team for 6 months now, Colonel." Stormwell continued. "Every time she is transferred out, we have to account for at least one instance of PTSD depression. There were two distinct effects of her presence. Love or Hate. One of the Green Berets she'd been stationed with even went as far as quitting to go and become a stripper. He was a veteran from the first Sudan uprisings! I knew the man before that, he used to scare the shit out of me and now he wiggles his ass in a g-string… On the other hand, some of the men she's been partnered with have had either marriage trouble and even divorces caused simply by her presence there, or come back united stronger than ever by facing her as a united front… I know that my own marriage didn't survive the first time we met. My wife took one look at her and told me point blank that she knew I was a lusty old fool and wanted a divorce… afterward I was told that Corporal Bloom-Lautner had taken my wife into confidence halfway through the party and told her that I has fallen in love with her and wanted to tell her how sorry she was…"

The colonel looked at his superior officer's stormy expression, with a pensive look.

"Sir… if there was to have an… unfortunate accident… while off base…" He started before trailing off.

"Then I am sure that as a compensation for the untimely incident, your men and you could use some 6 weeks of leave." Stormwell replied with a sharp grin on his face.

Clay nodded, his own smile turning just this side of bloodthirsty, before standing up, saluting and leaving, the smile still plastered on his face, scaring the shit out of the secretary and a few cadets he ran into.

He returned to the barracks, sure to find his men out like the lights. But the animation he found instead was both entertaining and a bit worrisome.

"¡Voy a cortar su cara y darle a comer a los perros! ¡A su puta madre!"

"At ease, Cougar!" He barked at the sniper.

The younger man was walking back and forth between the beds, his steps as silent and deadly and his movement as graceful as his animal namesake.

"She called me a 'cuddly teddy bear', Colonel! I want that bitch's head on a spike!" Roque seethed, from his position, sitting with his back to a wall, stabbing forcefully his beddings.

"What are you talking about, Roque?" Clay asked, dread in his guts, his second in command looked just a hairbreadth away from actually carving that girl up, and smiling all the way through it.

"Err… sir? I sort of got bored and went snooping a little…" Jensen replied from his own bed, where he was sitting, his eyes warily glued to the still moving silhouette of Cougar. "I found herdiary…"

The CO had the very intense urge to put his face in his hands; maybe it would stave off the migraine?

"Give me that!" He snapped at Jensen, holding out his hand.

The hacker gave him his biggest grin as he gave him the small booklet. (Oh look at that! Pink cameo! How fucking cute! Ugh)

Clay quickly leafed through the content of the diary, skipping the pages until one that appeared to be from the day before. He quickly read through it and once done, simply threw it to the ground like it stung, resisting the desire to stomp on it, however satisfying the motion would be.

"So I'm nice and funny, uh…" He muttered, his thoughts becoming more and more murderous.

Jensen picked up the diary and turned to his CO, amusement dancing on his face.

"I really liked the part where you're trying not to smile at her during her oh so interesting blabbering about her life…" The comms expert told the older man.

He seemed oblivious or ignoring the dark storm, that was brewing on the other man's face.

"Shut up, you're the one with the puppy love, Jensen." Pooch came to his teammate's rescue before Clay could demand any CAPE, the day had been bad enough as it had been.

"And you, Pooch! I should totally call Jolene about that would-be affair!" The blonde man retorted before yelping slightly when a certain Mexican sniper came next to him and slapped him upside the head.

"Caiate, parlanchin." The hat-wearing man simply ordered.

Clay shook his head at his team's antics before levelling them with his best glare.

"This shit is stopping now. I have green light from the General. We can take her out." He said seriously. "Now… Here's what we're going to do…"



Four hours later, covered in blood and a little bit of intestines and other nice innards, the Losers came back n base, looking extremely smug and satisfied, and missing a certain someone.
It was already sometime in the .am and no one was around, beside the usual security officers, but even they had learnt not to ask question about anything that particular team could be up to, so they were left alone as they walked back into their barrack.

"Frankly, Roque! Did you really have to stab so hard? That blood and those guts are never going to come off of that T-shirt! And it's my favourite llama T-shirt!" Jensen complained as they walked to the showers.

The young man was inspecting his very neon green T-shirt that looked like it'd been dosed in radioactive blood with how the green and red didn't go together. Cougar was standing next to him, suspiciously blood-free but looking like the proverbial cat who just had a very nicely sautéed canary for dinner.

"That thing you're wearing deserves to be binned, Jensen!" Roque replied, a bit less harsh that would be usual, he was even smiling a little, rightfully scary that.

"By the way, Colonel? Who's idea was it, to use those woodchoppers? Because that was nasty!" Pooch asked his CO, as he made a disgusted face, picking out a little bit of brain out of his jacket.

"That was Cougar's, Pooch." Clay replied with a sharp smile. "He actually said that we should freeze it first, but I thought it'd be funnier that way!"

"Hey! What are we supposed to do with all the stuff itleft in that barrack?" Jensen suddenly asked, just as he was taking off his Tshirt, to step under a very merited warm shower.

His question stopped all his teammates movement and they all looked over at him, before suddenly springing into action.

"Dibs on the knives!" Roque yelled as he ran from the room, bare chest and bare feet.

"C'mon Cougs! I thought you liked the idea of a new rifle! Dibs on it for you!" The hacker yelled as well as he followed closely behind their second in command, trailed by the ever-silent sniper.

Clay shook his head, smirking slightly. Those kids, really, you'd think they just won a prize. Well, erasing one hell of a stain from the gene pool could be seen as a prize in and by itself.



"¡Voy a cortar su cara y darle a comer a los perros! ¡A su puta madre!" : I'm gonna cut her face and feed it to the dogs! Sonuvabitch!"
dies y siete años chiquita": 17-years old girl"
Caiate, parlanchin": Shut up, chatterbox.

The End

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