Chapter fifty
"Today, goddammit!" Antonio growled like a coach before the big game.
"Yeeeah!" Mustafa thumped his chest with his fist.
Antonio and his unit were gathered around, going over their battle plan.
"Moose, I want you and John, to take out the white nig--uh boy together. He's the strongest one in their unit. We take him down, and half the battle is over."
"Yes sir!" Mustafa's eyes gleamed. His missing front teeth made the words come out as, "stess stir."
"Rick, you kill the Spic. After you do him, get Fathead, but don't kill him if you don't have to."
Sonya scowled. "What's with all the slurs lately Tony? You're a Spic your goddamn self."
Since his Mother--whose family raised him-- was Anglo, and his Father only quarter Mexican, he had never in his life saw himself as a Latino, or anything else but a white man. His last name was pronounced "George, not Jorge', and not many people in his life had made the mistake of mispronouncing it twice. Still, Sonya was right. The military taught its Commanders to put a lid on their racism for a reason and he was smart enough to know what that was. He couldn't afford to drive any wedges between himself and his people. He wasn't racist anyway. At least not with his family. He would die for any of them.
"You're right, Sonya. I guess it's that goddamn boy...stuck his black nose right in my face and turkeyed me. But yawl know it was only because of my neck. Still, I can't get it out of my mind how he punked me. I see his face in my sleep every night and I guess it's starting to effect me. It won't happen again I promise you...You too Moose."
" What?" Mustafa said.
Antonio went back to detailing the plan.
"I'll take out Lee. Sonya, you take Lee's woman. Don't let her scratch you with those monkey paws. You see her nails?"
Sonya exhaled and pursed her lips "fuck," she said under her breath. She was reeeeally beginning to dislike this bastard.
She had joined the unit three years before the big breach. Been on about a dozen missions. Done a lot of killing but she couldn't recall much about who, why or how she killed. During that entire period she was strung out on drugs. She could get release from the torment over her dead child no other way. Now, all her drugs were gone. She never went through any kinds of withdrawal pangs and didn't know why. But she was getting her memories and her conscience back. She'd rather have the drugs.
She was ex-military when she joined the Special Forces. Dishonorably discharged for beating a black woman to death during a traffic accident and dispute, despite the fact that her 2 year old daughter was killed in that accident and the woman had attacked her first. She just lost it, blanked out and went into killing mode. It wasn't racially motivated, but she knew those who recruited her for the Drakes unit thought it was. Thought she was some lowlife scumbag who would eagerly go around killing people for no reason but hate for what they were born looking like.
Her best friend in the Unit was Michelle. She missed her so much. She wished desperately, that she had deserted with her. She was sick of her life. Sick about her past, sick of the memories, sick of being straight. She needed something or she was going to slit her wrists soon. Marijuana, did nothing for her and that's the only kind of drug she can get now in this godforsaken world.
"Mesha," Antonio was saying, forgetting his promise 2 minutes after he made it, "You get the Sandnigger."
"Shakira?" Being Ukrainian for twenty, of her 30 years, Mesha had no idea what a Sandnigger was.
"Yeah, Shakira...Tam, you take the mouse. "
"Yes sir," Tameka smiled, her perfect white teeth, overkill, shining in such a dazzling beautiful face. She had to be the most gorgeous straight woman in the world, who at the age of twenty-seven, has never had a man show interest in her. Her romantic situation was one of the unexplained mysteries of the world, or proof positive that personality was like magnetic force--it can attract and it can repel.
"David, I want to take out the dago, Lezbo as quickly as you can and then help out any of us who needs it"
"Yes sir."
Antonio leaned forward and looked all of them in the eyes. "Do.Not.Touch. Janet. You hear me? Or Lee--unless by some stroke of luck, he gets the best of me. They're mine." He stood up straight. "Alright warriors...
Let's do it!"
"Yeeeah!" Mustafa thumped his chest with his fist.
Antonio and his unit were gathered around, going over their battle plan.
"Moose, I want you and John, to take out the white nig--uh boy together. He's the strongest one in their unit. We take him down, and half the battle is over."
"Yes sir!" Mustafa's eyes gleamed. His missing front teeth made the words come out as, "stess stir."
"Rick, you kill the Spic. After you do him, get Fathead, but don't kill him if you don't have to."
Sonya scowled. "What's with all the slurs lately Tony? You're a Spic your goddamn self."
Since his Mother--whose family raised him-- was Anglo, and his Father only quarter Mexican, he had never in his life saw himself as a Latino, or anything else but a white man. His last name was pronounced "George, not Jorge', and not many people in his life had made the mistake of mispronouncing it twice. Still, Sonya was right. The military taught its Commanders to put a lid on their racism for a reason and he was smart enough to know what that was. He couldn't afford to drive any wedges between himself and his people. He wasn't racist anyway. At least not with his family. He would die for any of them.
"You're right, Sonya. I guess it's that goddamn boy...stuck his black nose right in my face and turkeyed me. But yawl know it was only because of my neck. Still, I can't get it out of my mind how he punked me. I see his face in my sleep every night and I guess it's starting to effect me. It won't happen again I promise you...You too Moose."
" What?" Mustafa said.
Antonio went back to detailing the plan.
"I'll take out Lee. Sonya, you take Lee's woman. Don't let her scratch you with those monkey paws. You see her nails?"
Sonya exhaled and pursed her lips "fuck," she said under her breath. She was reeeeally beginning to dislike this bastard.
She had joined the unit three years before the big breach. Been on about a dozen missions. Done a lot of killing but she couldn't recall much about who, why or how she killed. During that entire period she was strung out on drugs. She could get release from the torment over her dead child no other way. Now, all her drugs were gone. She never went through any kinds of withdrawal pangs and didn't know why. But she was getting her memories and her conscience back. She'd rather have the drugs.
She was ex-military when she joined the Special Forces. Dishonorably discharged for beating a black woman to death during a traffic accident and dispute, despite the fact that her 2 year old daughter was killed in that accident and the woman had attacked her first. She just lost it, blanked out and went into killing mode. It wasn't racially motivated, but she knew those who recruited her for the Drakes unit thought it was. Thought she was some lowlife scumbag who would eagerly go around killing people for no reason but hate for what they were born looking like.
Her best friend in the Unit was Michelle. She missed her so much. She wished desperately, that she had deserted with her. She was sick of her life. Sick about her past, sick of the memories, sick of being straight. She needed something or she was going to slit her wrists soon. Marijuana, did nothing for her and that's the only kind of drug she can get now in this godforsaken world.
"Mesha," Antonio was saying, forgetting his promise 2 minutes after he made it, "You get the Sandnigger."
"Shakira?" Being Ukrainian for twenty, of her 30 years, Mesha had no idea what a Sandnigger was.
"Yeah, Shakira...Tam, you take the mouse. "
"Yes sir," Tameka smiled, her perfect white teeth, overkill, shining in such a dazzling beautiful face. She had to be the most gorgeous straight woman in the world, who at the age of twenty-seven, has never had a man show interest in her. Her romantic situation was one of the unexplained mysteries of the world, or proof positive that personality was like magnetic force--it can attract and it can repel.
"David, I want to take out the dago, Lezbo as quickly as you can and then help out any of us who needs it"
"Yes sir."
Antonio leaned forward and looked all of them in the eyes. "Do.Not.Touch. Janet. You hear me? Or Lee--unless by some stroke of luck, he gets the best of me. They're mine." He stood up straight. "Alright warriors...
Let's do it!"
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