Special Operations

The following are operation files that relate to or have some relevance to Operation Synthetic Black Gold

It was playing on the tv in the background.  You could hear it clearly from the backyard.  Over the deathly silence that was going on around this place.  Let’s set the scene for a minute here.  There were two of us on site, but frankly they should have just called the local coroner.  This guy was as good as dead when we got on the scene.  Lips as blue as a teenager's balls.  He was floating in the pool when we got there, luckily we were just down the road, so it was a quick response time, well at least for the girl.  

She was already out of the water of their pool, shaken freaking the fuck out, especially since her step father was floating face down in the pool.  Apparently the old codger was trying to kill himself and the girl in their own pool.  The mother was standing on the back porch holding her daughter dressed in a bathrobe and well frankly nothing else.  

Her step son had on a pair of shorts, but they were bone dry, and I do mean bone.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out just exactly what had happened.  The poor bastard probably walked in on them one day, so he waited for them to be alone, scooped up his stepdaughter for a swim, and gave a nice fatherly hug and plunged them both under the water.

There really wasn’t a thing we could do.  So I did my job, I plucked him up out of the water and strapped him down on the backboard of the stretcher and wheeled his ass off to the ambulance to file the report.  My partner on the other hand, what an asshole.  





I mean he just plops down on their porch and lights up a fucking cigarette like he owns the fucking place and this is just a typical Sunday brunch.  Fucking asshole!  This is a goddamn tragedy.  Here’s a man who drowns himself and tries taking his stepdaughter with him, while his wife is up their riding his son like she’s goin for the fucking Derby Cup track record.  Hard and fast!  And he’s blowing smoking rings while I do all the fucking work.  Where did they find this fucking rookie.  I told him, don’t be smoking in the ambulance.  Don’t be smoking on the job, it's unprofessional, and he does it anyway.  GOD!  This dumb fuck better be fired when we get back.  And I’m filling out all the fucking paperwork too.  Dammit!   Where did he disappear to?  

“Yo, let’s get a move on it!  You know before this guy decides to get up and walk away.”

I shake my head at this guy, and turn to him as I start the ambulance up.

“Look asshole, could you be any more of an insensitive prick.  The guy was a parapalegic, and he just committed sucidie and tried to take his daughter with him.  God you’re a piece of shit.”

“So should I drive then?”

“FUCKING ASSHOLE!  Shut the fuck up until we’re back at the station.”

“All you had to do was say no.  Manners, and who’s language is unprofessional now?”

“FUUUUGHH”

I can’t get rid of this douchebag fast enough, I kick on the lights as soon as we are out of sight of the grieving family’s home.  Flooring the pedal, for the short trip back to the station to wash my hands of this whole unfortunate business.  We pull in and I level a finger at my rookie partner whose only been on the job three fucking hours.

“No fucking smoking, no fucking comments, and get the stiff out of the ambulance and ready to be sent to the coronors office.”

To my surprise, not really he just cocks his head to the side and looks lost behind his sunglasses which was another point of contention I had with his entirely unprofessional manner and attitude, those fucking sunglasses all the time.  I leave him to it fully expecting to have to come back down and do the job myself seeing as he’s useless.  I hope they fire his ass after I report in.  I leave him, and off load my whole list of complaints after the standard inquiry over the call and the results are out of the way.  I’m relieved as I make my way back down, his ass is getting canned.  I can tell him to fuc…

Where the fuck is the ambulance?



The strange yet familiar feeling of a needle being pulled out of his body.  Blinding light shines in his eyes as he looks up hearing a strange unfamiliar voice.  With a strangely ominous insignia on his sleeve.  Something that appeared through his blurry eyes looking on as a foxes head was resting on a discolored nuclear warning sign!





“Congratulations you’re divorced… well dead!





Now it’s time to make good on those IOU’s you owe Doctor Emmerich we’re collecting on all of them!”





And his death was little more than a footnote in the local obituary column.