Post by WarSaw Pact on Jun 9, 2019 22:33:15 GMT -5
Thursday 6/6/19
Ramada Limited SeaWorld
WarSaw Pact’s room.
0600...
Warbird was sitting on the edge of his bed, the room table in front of him. On the table, he had a long board with 21 tubes clamped, and what looked like fuses poking out of them. Warbird was drinking his usual warm cans of PBR as he carefully used another long fuse to tie to the others, creating a long connected line.
It was a beautiful morning as Warbird stepped onto the second floor outside his room. It was a typical early morning as he began to strap his contraption to the railing. Car alarms, horns beeping in traffic, yet oddly for Southern California no gu... nope there they were...
Warbird just yawned, unfazed by the 9mm rounds popping off not far away. Carefully he hung an American flag to the door jamb with some 100mph tape, and pulled his phone from his pants. He scrolled through and pressed play, Taps played by bagpipes came from the worn speakers as he lit the fuse with his cigarette and saluted old glory. Sure enough, 21 bottle rockets shot off in sequence from the pipes and the Marine buried deep within the asshole known as Warbird had a moment.
***************
The Gym
Other side of Mission Bay from WarSaw Pact’s hotel
6 AM
Buzzsaw had a nice six mile morning run to the closest gym he could find that was open early and wouldn’t shake him for clangin’ and bang in’. Now, he was in full beast mode, a smile on his face as he had a squat bar fully loaded with plates, and was using it for arm curls, the bar itself bowing under the weight. With a mighty roar, the big man simply raised the whole thing above his head before dropping it behind him as he took a step forward. The few early morning hard hitters that were in took a look as the bar and weights hit with a building shaking thud.
Buzzsaw grinned and turned to casually pick up the weights and moved on to other areas to finish his circuit...
***************
San Diego Zoo
ummm 1:30 ish?
Warbird and Buzzsaw are sitting near the bears, eating a catered meal. Warbird with a look of confusion on his face. “Look, I don’t know why our new manager insists on this, it’s just a couple of wanna be hardasses we are facing. What’s eating their native food have to do with scouting them?”
Buzzsaw shrugged, “No clue, but the man’s accomplishments speak for themselves...”
Warbird shook his head, and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper with really really bad handwriting on it in crayon. “Well, According to my intelligence report...”
“Oh no...”
Warbird shoot’s Buzz the ‘Willis’, “According to my intelligence report, we are dealing with two grade A Canucks. Their theme music is by Rush for Christ’s Sake.”
“Rush isn’t that bad, at least they didn’t pick Bieber...” Buzzsaw had to duck as he found a slice of Canadian bacon flying at him...
“Fucking Canadians, it’s not even bacon... It’s GOD DAMNED HAM!!!!” Warbird didn’t even bother to see if Buzzsaw had a rebuttals, and went back to his ‘report’, “As I was saying... Take this one, calls himself ‘The Canadian Lightning’. Fuck me sideways, it’s a kinder, gentler, more polite Froggy Flash. The dude looks like that guy some 34 year old, living in his mommy and daddy’s cellar would come up with in WWF No Mercy. Even his name, shit, his parents should be arrested for child abuse. I’ve seen better come out of random name generators on PlayStation.” Warbird fingered the fries covered in poutine, and popped one into his mouth.
*Pthu*
“The fuck is wrong with these people...” He reached for a cold Molsen, cracked it open and began to chug....
*pffffffffff*
“This beer SUCKS!!!!!!”
Warbird begins gagging, and runs over to the water on the side of the sidewalk to wash his mouth out, when a woman’s scream rang out. He looked up and continued washing his taste buds as Buzzsaw took off towards the woman. Her child had climbed up the railing and fell into the enclosure. Buzzsaw didn’t waste a second and climbed in after the kid, as a grizzly made it’s way towards the hapless child. Buzzsaw got there first and stood his ground, and the grizzly did what they do best, stood on its back feet and roared into Buzzsaw‘s face. The big man roared back up the two feet into the bear’s own muzzle and uncorked a mighty right cross into the bear’s jaw, dropping the 1200 pound beast to the ground, drawing cheers from the crowd just ass zoo staff arrived to the rescue. Warbird stood by and just lit a smoke, before yelling at his teammate, “Show off!!!”
The bear lay there dazed, before it eased up on all fours and began a slow walk away. Buzzsaw just grinned and was the last one up the ladder. That’s where the crowd parted, and the duo began their walk back out of the zoo, camera in tow. “Listen here you big Sasquatch, you pull a punch like that against these uncle fucking northern douche canoes, and you can kiss our victory goodbye.”
“Man, your hatred just has no end does it?”
“Big man, you have no idea, hell, I didn’t even touch in the other flap headed, fart machine known as ‘Triple R’... Really? Triple R?? Come on bitch, you think your a hard ass big man? Look to my partner, this brick fucking shithouse will level you like Rob Lowe leveling a teenager’s virginity...”
“Holy crap dude....”
Warbird just kept going, “Look, their big guy, the ‘team muscle’ is just a knock off poser, he’s the Blue Blazer to your Owen Hart. Seriously though, this guy trying to come off as a big bad man to be feared, yet he looks like a dude who’s taken too many Flova Scotia pills... I don’t want man lactation on me... bleh....”
As they near the entrance, we see a big ass hummer limo awaiting them, some wierd old Mexican driver by the door, “Boys, I’m here on behalf of your new manager. There is some important business to discuss...”
The two men just look at each other, before climbing into the back as a voice speaks to them, “Now, as I said on the phone, it’s time to lay some waste to these pale North American wannabes...”
Ramada Limited SeaWorld
WarSaw Pact’s room.
0600...
Warbird was sitting on the edge of his bed, the room table in front of him. On the table, he had a long board with 21 tubes clamped, and what looked like fuses poking out of them. Warbird was drinking his usual warm cans of PBR as he carefully used another long fuse to tie to the others, creating a long connected line.
It was a beautiful morning as Warbird stepped onto the second floor outside his room. It was a typical early morning as he began to strap his contraption to the railing. Car alarms, horns beeping in traffic, yet oddly for Southern California no gu... nope there they were...
Warbird just yawned, unfazed by the 9mm rounds popping off not far away. Carefully he hung an American flag to the door jamb with some 100mph tape, and pulled his phone from his pants. He scrolled through and pressed play, Taps played by bagpipes came from the worn speakers as he lit the fuse with his cigarette and saluted old glory. Sure enough, 21 bottle rockets shot off in sequence from the pipes and the Marine buried deep within the asshole known as Warbird had a moment.
***************
The Gym
Other side of Mission Bay from WarSaw Pact’s hotel
6 AM
Buzzsaw had a nice six mile morning run to the closest gym he could find that was open early and wouldn’t shake him for clangin’ and bang in’. Now, he was in full beast mode, a smile on his face as he had a squat bar fully loaded with plates, and was using it for arm curls, the bar itself bowing under the weight. With a mighty roar, the big man simply raised the whole thing above his head before dropping it behind him as he took a step forward. The few early morning hard hitters that were in took a look as the bar and weights hit with a building shaking thud.
Buzzsaw grinned and turned to casually pick up the weights and moved on to other areas to finish his circuit...
***************
San Diego Zoo
ummm 1:30 ish?
Warbird and Buzzsaw are sitting near the bears, eating a catered meal. Warbird with a look of confusion on his face. “Look, I don’t know why our new manager insists on this, it’s just a couple of wanna be hardasses we are facing. What’s eating their native food have to do with scouting them?”
Buzzsaw shrugged, “No clue, but the man’s accomplishments speak for themselves...”
Warbird shook his head, and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper with really really bad handwriting on it in crayon. “Well, According to my intelligence report...”
“Oh no...”
Warbird shoot’s Buzz the ‘Willis’, “According to my intelligence report, we are dealing with two grade A Canucks. Their theme music is by Rush for Christ’s Sake.”
“Rush isn’t that bad, at least they didn’t pick Bieber...” Buzzsaw had to duck as he found a slice of Canadian bacon flying at him...
“Fucking Canadians, it’s not even bacon... It’s GOD DAMNED HAM!!!!” Warbird didn’t even bother to see if Buzzsaw had a rebuttals, and went back to his ‘report’, “As I was saying... Take this one, calls himself ‘The Canadian Lightning’. Fuck me sideways, it’s a kinder, gentler, more polite Froggy Flash. The dude looks like that guy some 34 year old, living in his mommy and daddy’s cellar would come up with in WWF No Mercy. Even his name, shit, his parents should be arrested for child abuse. I’ve seen better come out of random name generators on PlayStation.” Warbird fingered the fries covered in poutine, and popped one into his mouth.
*Pthu*
“The fuck is wrong with these people...” He reached for a cold Molsen, cracked it open and began to chug....
*pffffffffff*
“This beer SUCKS!!!!!!”
Warbird begins gagging, and runs over to the water on the side of the sidewalk to wash his mouth out, when a woman’s scream rang out. He looked up and continued washing his taste buds as Buzzsaw took off towards the woman. Her child had climbed up the railing and fell into the enclosure. Buzzsaw didn’t waste a second and climbed in after the kid, as a grizzly made it’s way towards the hapless child. Buzzsaw got there first and stood his ground, and the grizzly did what they do best, stood on its back feet and roared into Buzzsaw‘s face. The big man roared back up the two feet into the bear’s own muzzle and uncorked a mighty right cross into the bear’s jaw, dropping the 1200 pound beast to the ground, drawing cheers from the crowd just ass zoo staff arrived to the rescue. Warbird stood by and just lit a smoke, before yelling at his teammate, “Show off!!!”
The bear lay there dazed, before it eased up on all fours and began a slow walk away. Buzzsaw just grinned and was the last one up the ladder. That’s where the crowd parted, and the duo began their walk back out of the zoo, camera in tow. “Listen here you big Sasquatch, you pull a punch like that against these uncle fucking northern douche canoes, and you can kiss our victory goodbye.”
“Man, your hatred just has no end does it?”
“Big man, you have no idea, hell, I didn’t even touch in the other flap headed, fart machine known as ‘Triple R’... Really? Triple R?? Come on bitch, you think your a hard ass big man? Look to my partner, this brick fucking shithouse will level you like Rob Lowe leveling a teenager’s virginity...”
“Holy crap dude....”
Warbird just kept going, “Look, their big guy, the ‘team muscle’ is just a knock off poser, he’s the Blue Blazer to your Owen Hart. Seriously though, this guy trying to come off as a big bad man to be feared, yet he looks like a dude who’s taken too many Flova Scotia pills... I don’t want man lactation on me... bleh....”
As they near the entrance, we see a big ass hummer limo awaiting them, some wierd old Mexican driver by the door, “Boys, I’m here on behalf of your new manager. There is some important business to discuss...”
The two men just look at each other, before climbing into the back as a voice speaks to them, “Now, as I said on the phone, it’s time to lay some waste to these pale North American wannabes...”
