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Authors: Larry Correia
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look very good.”
“That’s because I just got off the phone with our boss.”
“What did Myers say?”
“First off, situation in Vegas is looking better. They’ve mostly got it under control and our usual media shills are doing a great job. The phone videos that popped up from the witnesses are being mocked as Photoshop.”
“Myers is like an artist.”
“He’s trying to come back as soon as possible. Second, he didn’t say why, but we’re not supposed to go anywhere near operational, especially with a rookie along, and Franks is supposed to stay put, no matter how excited he gets to kill something.”
“That makes sense I suppose.” Going on an op with Franks was a duty best left to the badass snake eaters on the Strike Team. Those guys were mostly former SEALs and SF, like Radabaugh. Archer knew he was pretty good at his job, but he couldn’t help but feel a little dumpy next to those guys.
“No, you don’t get it. A giant kaiju monster could be climbing up the Washington Monument and Myers still wants Franks to stay put. No monsters. Period. You know what that means?”
Archer had to think about it for a moment. Franks’ inclination was always to walk up to the most dangerous monster in the room and punch it in the face. Only they’d just pissed off an organization that actively recruited monsters and used them for wet work. “Whoa.” Was Myers actually worried about an STFU setup?
Neither one of them wanted to confirm it out loud here. Their office probably wasn’t bugged. “Uh huh. Exactly. Nothing concrete, just Myers’ gut instinct, but Franks stays here.”
Where it’s safe and nothing can get to him. If anything happened, he really didn’t want to be the one to try to get Franks to stay at his desk. . . . But that couldn’t be why Grant looked like he’d just gotten off a roller coaster. “And?”
Grant swallowed hard. “And finally, he ordered me to go throw my career away.”
Archer sat down across from his partner. “Wait . . . What?”
He gave a resigned sigh. “I guess this is what I get for picking a side in a battle of bureaucrats. I’m reaping what I’ve sown. Damn it. See, Henry, this is what happens when you try to do the right thing. You get screwed every single time.”
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Myers thinks they’re going to try to crucify Franks in today’s Subcommittee meeting. We need to shift the blame to where it really belongs. Myers wants me to tell the truth about our friends in Vegas.”
Bring up Unicorn? “Wow.” No wonder Myers wanted Franks to stay at MCB headquarters. They were about to flip the lights on and watch the roaches scurry for cover, only these cockroaches specialized in assassinations. Exposing Special Task Force Unicorn would be like a declaration of war. The implications sank in. “Oh hell . . .” Archer suddenly didn’t feel very good either.
* * *
The day proved to be as miserable as Franks had expected, filled with paperwork, useless reports, and foolish questions from petty men. He’d been grilled by members of the Subcommittee on Unearthly Forces, various high ranking MCB officers, and was now currently facing his main accuser, Director Stark. So far this meeting had been particularly shrill, with lots of dramatic table pounding for emphasis.
“And then as I confronted Agent Franks about his illegal actions and theft he physically assaulted me!” Table pound. The two congressmen, their aides, and other government teat suckers and hangers-on nodded thoughtfully. The augmented guard force just stayed in their corners, nervous at this display that was way over their pay grade as their Director continued his rant. “Not only did he put my life in jeopardy, but he also endangered the MCB’s response to the Las Vegas incident. I was in command and without my leadership—”
Franks snorted.
“Don’t mock me, Franks!” Stark struck the table with both fists that time. “I’m sick
“That’s because I just got off the phone with our boss.”
“What did Myers say?”
“First off, situation in Vegas is looking better. They’ve mostly got it under control and our usual media shills are doing a great job. The phone videos that popped up from the witnesses are being mocked as Photoshop.”
“Myers is like an artist.”
“He’s trying to come back as soon as possible. Second, he didn’t say why, but we’re not supposed to go anywhere near operational, especially with a rookie along, and Franks is supposed to stay put, no matter how excited he gets to kill something.”
“That makes sense I suppose.” Going on an op with Franks was a duty best left to the badass snake eaters on the Strike Team. Those guys were mostly former SEALs and SF, like Radabaugh. Archer knew he was pretty good at his job, but he couldn’t help but feel a little dumpy next to those guys.
“No, you don’t get it. A giant kaiju monster could be climbing up the Washington Monument and Myers still wants Franks to stay put. No monsters. Period. You know what that means?”
Archer had to think about it for a moment. Franks’ inclination was always to walk up to the most dangerous monster in the room and punch it in the face. Only they’d just pissed off an organization that actively recruited monsters and used them for wet work. “Whoa.” Was Myers actually worried about an STFU setup?
Neither one of them wanted to confirm it out loud here. Their office probably wasn’t bugged. “Uh huh. Exactly. Nothing concrete, just Myers’ gut instinct, but Franks stays here.”
Where it’s safe and nothing can get to him. If anything happened, he really didn’t want to be the one to try to get Franks to stay at his desk. . . . But that couldn’t be why Grant looked like he’d just gotten off a roller coaster. “And?”
Grant swallowed hard. “And finally, he ordered me to go throw my career away.”
Archer sat down across from his partner. “Wait . . . What?”
He gave a resigned sigh. “I guess this is what I get for picking a side in a battle of bureaucrats. I’m reaping what I’ve sown. Damn it. See, Henry, this is what happens when you try to do the right thing. You get screwed every single time.”
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Myers thinks they’re going to try to crucify Franks in today’s Subcommittee meeting. We need to shift the blame to where it really belongs. Myers wants me to tell the truth about our friends in Vegas.”
Bring up Unicorn? “Wow.” No wonder Myers wanted Franks to stay at MCB headquarters. They were about to flip the lights on and watch the roaches scurry for cover, only these cockroaches specialized in assassinations. Exposing Special Task Force Unicorn would be like a declaration of war. The implications sank in. “Oh hell . . .” Archer suddenly didn’t feel very good either.
* * *
The day proved to be as miserable as Franks had expected, filled with paperwork, useless reports, and foolish questions from petty men. He’d been grilled by members of the Subcommittee on Unearthly Forces, various high ranking MCB officers, and was now currently facing his main accuser, Director Stark. So far this meeting had been particularly shrill, with lots of dramatic table pounding for emphasis.
“And then as I confronted Agent Franks about his illegal actions and theft he physically assaulted me!” Table pound. The two congressmen, their aides, and other government teat suckers and hangers-on nodded thoughtfully. The augmented guard force just stayed in their corners, nervous at this display that was way over their pay grade as their Director continued his rant. “Not only did he put my life in jeopardy, but he also endangered the MCB’s response to the Las Vegas incident. I was in command and without my leadership—”
Franks snorted.
“Don’t mock me, Franks!” Stark struck the table with both fists that time. “I’m sick
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