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Welcome Back, Mr. Nightcrawler

Discussion in 'General Gun Discussions' started by Nightcrawler, Jun 26, 2006.

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  1. Nightcrawler

    Nightcrawler Member

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    A Place to Crash

    I hate flying commercial. I'm a tall guy, and twelve hours in coach class does nothing for my temperment.

    Neither did spending forty five minutes in line at US Customs upon landing. So I was pretty grouchy when I finally made it to the counter. I had to stifle it, though. Look natural. I handed the lady my passport.

    "Welcome home, Mr. Hale," she said, looking through it. "You've been away a long time. What on earth did you do over there?"

    "Pipleine technician, natural gas mainly. Paid well, but I'm ready to come home and eat bacon again." I put on my best impish grin. She smiled sweetly at me.

    "Well, again, welcome home." She stamped my passport.

    "It's good to be back, Ma'am," I said, and walked away. Making my way through the crowded terminal, I pulled out my Nokia cell phone and turned it on.

    NO SERVICE, it told me. What? I cursed aloud as I realized my phone wouldn't work in the United States. Get a tri-band, they told me. Works anywhere in the world, they said. My butt.

    Muttering to myself, I found a payphone, used my credit card, and punched the digits. The phone rang six or seven times before I got an answer.

    "Hello?"

    "Jeff. I'm at LAX. Can you come pick me up? I need a place to crash."

    "What? Who is this? It's two in the morning!"

    "Nightcrawler."

    "Nightc...Mike? MIKE! What the hell! It's been like a year man!"

    "Long story. Can you come get me? I'm tired, and I don't really have anywhere to go."

    "Uh...yeah....yeah, sure. Gonna be a couple hours. Can you wait?"

    "I'll be here. Thanks."

    Two and a half hours later, my friend arrived. He bombarded me with questions, and I frustrated him by not answering. I wasn't trying to be distant, I really wasn't; fatigue was setting in. I fell asleep in his car and didn't wake up until we were back at his place.

    As the first rays of dawn began to peek in the window, I found myself sitting across Jeff's kitchen table. He still looked astonished to see me. I'm sure I looked like hell, too.

    "What's going on, man?" He asked me again. "You disappear for a whole year, and I hardly get an email from you. Now you fall out of the sky and want to stay at my place? What the hell?"

    "I need a weapon," I said.

    "What? Why? Look, we're cool and everything, but..."

    "It's important," I said, interrupting.

    "Uh...yeah. Wait a minute." He left the table, and returned with a pistol in his hand. He laid the Beretta 92FS down on the table, along with three loaded magazines.

    "Not really your style, but it's all I can spare." I inserted a magazine and chambered a round. Satisfied, I set the weapon back down.

    "This will do. Thank you. I need new ID, too. This passport's gotten too broken in." I laid my Parker Hale passport down on the table. Jeff picked it up and looked at it. He chuckled.

    "Parker Hale. That's funny. Come on, man. I need to know what's going on here. You're asking a lot."

    I sighed deeply, and collected my thoughts.

    "So there I was..."




    TO BE CONTINUED*...


    *Only, of course, if I have the blessing of the mods. It's been two years since I've engaged in such antics and it was a bit of a misappropriation of the forum. If there's any problem, please, simply remove the thread and I'll understand. I must say, though, I miss the spontaneity of this kind of writing...

    **Assuming I have time. Most days I'm kind of gone for fifteen hours a day.


    NOTE: Okay, I've got the go-ahead from Oleg. So, here's how this works. I'm writing the story spontaneously. I only have a rough idea in my head of how the story is going to go. It is 100% fictional, and I make no bones about that. I can only wish I was half the badass I am in the story. It's written in rough draft format with little proof-reading or editing, so it's going to lack some polish. Please bear with me on that, and thanks again for all of your support.
     
    Last edited: Jun 27, 2006
  2. pdowg881

    pdowg881 Member

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    sweet story. sounds like the beginning of a book i would like to read. and thats saying a lot. I'm not much of a literature fanatic other than the sports page and thr.
     
  3. the 22 junkie

    the 22 junkie Member

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    man, it wasnt until halfway down i realized it was a story. great stuff.
     
  4. fiVe

    fiVe Member

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    Nightcrawler,

    It has been so long--too long--since we've had one of your stories. I hope the mods let you stay.
     
  5. Nightcrawler

    Nightcrawler Member

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    Well. If they choose to remove it, I'll utter not one word of complaint. This is Oleg's party after all. Though they occasionally let me use it as my own whiny blog... :cool:
     
  6. pdowg881

    pdowg881 Member

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    dude you should write a book. I'd buy it.
     
  7. fiVe

    fiVe Member

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    Well, yes, I agree, too. If you do "get the boot", please move your story over to APS.
     
  8. Dionysusigma

    Dionysusigma Member

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  9. Nightcrawler

    Nightcrawler Member

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    That whole thing where I went and lived in the middle east for a year kind of nixed that story tangent. Apologies. :eek:

    Well, that's my excuse. In reality...writer's block. Just hit a wall, basically. THEN I got wrapped up in my excitement about going overseas, and...holy hell, as it been two years already?
     
  10. 14YEAROLDGUNADDICT

    14YEAROLDGUNADDICT Member

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    Wow great story man :cool: i read it then i read the replies and relsied it was a story :rolleyes:

    good story :)
     
  11. Oleg Volk

    Oleg Volk Moderator Emeritus

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    Go for it...reading with interest, Mr. Parker Hale.
     
  12. Radagast
    • Contributing Member

    Radagast Moderator Staff Member

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    I've bookmarked this thread. :)
     
  13. BluesBear

    BluesBear member

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    Everytime he's out they pull him back in!

    Don't miss the next thrilling episode!

    Coming soon to a computer near you!
     
  14. Brian Williams

    Brian Williams Moderator Emeritus

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    Oh Boy here we go again, time to get out my Fried apple Pies and start fitting a one piece trigger to some 1911a1 while I am waiting...




    UPDATE AS OF 14 AUG 06
    added 2 zip files of the .doc files the first is 'Crawler & Corriea and the second has some commentary by C&C and the Bluesbear/sm commentary/soundtrack.
     
    Last edited: Aug 15, 2006
  15. one-shot-one

    one-shot-one Member

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    welcome back

    glad that it looks like you got their blessing.:)
     
  16. BerettaNut92

    BerettaNut92 Member

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    [giggling maniacally]
    :D
     
  17. steveracer

    steveracer Member

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    Welcome back, indeed.

    Good online "fiction" is hard to find.
     
  18. OEF_VET

    OEF_VET Member

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    True, but are we certain NC's stuff is really fiction? Maybe the whole "boring Middle East security guard" story was just a ruse for some kind of CIA sanctioned wet work? Maybe NC is really a SuperSpy? He very well could be the inspiration for the films "The Recruit" and/or "SpyGame"
     
  19. Black Dragon

    Black Dragon Member

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    Here we go again ! ! ! ! :evil: :D :evil: :D :evil: :D :evil: :D
     
  20. MissileCop

    MissileCop Member

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    Welcome Back, Sir.

    You've kept us waiting too long. :cuss: ;)

    *slowly wrings hands, eagerly awaiting the next 'installment'*
     
  21. Nightcrawler

    Nightcrawler Member

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    College Dropout

    One year earlier...

    It started off as a fairly typical Friday morning for me. Like most students, I didn't have class that day, so at around eleven in the morning I wandered across the street to the caffeteria and got something to eat.

    I sat at one of the tables, munching on the sandwhich I had made for myself, surfing the internet on my laptop. My computer booped, signifying an email.

    Mr. Nightcrawler:

    First off, you really need to get a cell phone. Secondly, it's time for you to uphold your end of the agreement. Your country needs you. You'll be shipping out on June 30th. You'll be contacted with further details.


    I was speechless. I didn't think they'd call me so soon. I was hoping they wouldn't call me at all. Granted, my agreement with the government certainly seemed better than going to prison, but I never imagined that they'd send me overseas. For what? Where they going to send me to Iraq? Wasn't this all a little elaborate just for them to draft me back into the Army? Hell, I was still technically in the IRR. They could recall me if they wanted to.

    If not that, then what? Spy stuff? I didn't have any experience in that. Well, okay, I did, but not in countries with unfamiliar cultures where I couldn't blend in and didn't speak the language. Blowing up the yacht of a Russian mob boss is a lot different than going after terrorists on their own soil, isn't it?

    I needed more information. I replied to the email, asking for such, but my reply message was returned as undeliverable.

    I started to worry again. I hate having things like this looming over my head. And on top of that, I had exams and everything! I sighed. At least it's nice out, I thought to myself as I walked back to the dorm. Upper Michigan can be pretty in the spring, though even in April there's still plenty of snow on the ground. The sun was shining at least.

    All the same, it seemed very sudden. I had only finally gotten off of crutches a few weeks before. Contrary to what you see on TV, being shot through the leg with a rifle can lay you up for awhile. It does not mean you merely have to walk with a slight limp until the end of the scene.

    There was nothing to do but wait, though. Which irritated me. I'm an inherently impatient person and I hate waiting. Especially when it's for something big that is going to significantly change my life.

    Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. A few days later, the phone in my dorm room rang.

    "Hello?"

    "Good Morning, Mr. Nightcrawler."

    "Who is this?"

    "Let's discuss the terms of your deployment, shall we?"

    "Okay..."

    "Plane tickets will be arriving in the mail. You'll leave from your local airport, flying commerical. You'll arrive in Doha a couple days later. At the airport there, our man will be waiting for you, and will brief you on your assignment."

    "Wait...where the hell is Doha?"

    "What kind of college student are you? I swear, they keep lowering the standards. Qatar. That little country shaped like a Chicken McNugget, next to Saudi Arabia."

    "Okay. Why am I going there?"

    "Were you watching TV on September 11th, Mr. Nightcrawler?"

    "Okay, fine, terrorists. What does this have to do with Qatar? Shouldn't it be Saudi Arabia? Afghanistan? Indonesia?"

    "If you'd rather we dump you in a festering Indonesian jungle, I'd be more than happy to..."

    "No no no...that's not necessary. What I'm asking is why Qatar? And why me? This secret agent stuff really isn't my speed. I've got no formal training, I don't speak Arabic, and..."

    "Mr. Nightcrawler, it's all been planned out. We've found a use for you and your unique talents."

    "What unique talents? I'm a pretty good shot, but..."

    "Mr. Nightcrawler, you're lucky. You have an incredible knack for staying alive when by rights you should be dead. That whole incident with the Chinese proved that, don't you think?"

    "Wait wait wait. You're telling me, that despite hundreds, if not thousands, of available, well trained, and battle-hardened special operations guys, CIA guys, Navy SEALs, and all the rest being at your disposal, you're choosing me because I've survived a few sticky situations? Look, I've seen this movie, it sucked, and I've got no desire to play Vin Diesel anyway."

    "I've never thought of it that way before, Mr. Nightcrawler. But now that you mention it, this is kind of silly. Tell you what, why don't we forget the whole thing?"

    "Really?"

    "No, not really," the voice said, sounded agitated. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Get on that plane on June 30th or a Federal task force will be along to haul you off to prison." He hung up.

    Well, I thought to myself. I guess that settles that...



    TO BE CONTINUED
     
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2006
  22. kjeff50cal

    kjeff50cal Member

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    :scrutiny: :scrutiny: More, More MORE!!!! Did I mention we want more?:evil:
     
  23. fiVe

    fiVe Member

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    YES!! Thank you, Oleg!


    And thanks for part 2, NC.
     
  24. Nightcrawler

    Nightcrawler Member

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    Foreign Exchange

    "So they drafted you and sent you overseas, basically?" Jeff asked me.

    "Prettymuch," I replied, sipping the can of Dr. Pepper he'd thoughtfully provided for me. "Sure enough, the plane tickets came in the mail. I was told in a later email that if I wanted to bring any of my own equipment, I needed to pack it in a large container and ship it to the address they gave me."

    "What'd your bring?"

    "My FAL carbine, of course. A few handguns. My Colt and its suppressor. My suppressed Ruger twenty-two. I thought about my MAC-10, but the UMP-45 I'd recently gotten my hands on was a better subgun. Plus, I had a can for it as well, so I brought that. Couple revolvers, too."

    "Revolvers?"

    "Yeah, I know. I was the only dude in the theater who wanted to bring a revolver, I'm sure. I left my 625 at home. I brought my brand new forty-four magnum and probably about six hundred rounds of ammo. More than I'd need."

    "A forty-four. You're crazy, dude."

    "Yeah, I know. But let me tell you, bro, when you go Dirty Harry on an Al-Qaeda type with a five-inch forty-four, there's a certain wetting-of-the-thobe response that can't be beat."

    "You'd think the rifle would do that. Your FAL's pretty bad."

    "Well...it's weird. Over there, it's like, they're used to rifles. Qatar's pretty quiet, but the cops often carry rifles. AUGs, from what I saw, plus some G3s. But when you pull out your pistol, they think you mean business. Like it's your killin' gun. You know?"

    "I guess. So, okay, they stick you on this plane. What happened when you got there?"

    "Well, I had to buy a three-week tourist visa to get in the country. Cost me the equivalent of forty bucks. Did I mention my passport?"

    "What about it?"

    "Yeah, they mailed me a passport before I left. Name on it was Gordon Freeman."

    "Gordon Freeman? Like the guy from Half-Life?? That's funny, man. You used that before, right?"

    "Yeah, that was the name on my Minnesota driver's license. I guess they'd done their homework. Anyway, so there I was, in Doha International Airport, kind of wandering around. It's a weird airport. When the plane stops, you walk down the stairs onto the tarmac, and a bus-type deal picks you up and brings you to the terminal. It was hotter than hell, let me tell you. Had to be a hundred and five degrees, and the sun had gone down hours before."

    "Geez."

    "Yeah. Oh yeah. I learned what it really means to be hot over there. Anyway, so I'm wandering around the airport, not sure what to do. People are everywhere. Western attire, and Arab attire, all mixed together. Guys in white thobes standing in line next to guys in business suits."

    "What's a thobe?"

    "Oh. It's like a white dress shirt, long sleeved, but it goes down to your ankles. Traditional Arab attire, worn with the head dress and the sandals."

    "In the airport?"

    "Yeah...they kind of hang on to their old customs over there. That type of getup is great, I'm sure, if you're riding your camel to the next oasis. But in an air-conditioned Toyota Land Cruiser? It'd be like Americans still wearing three-cornered hats and split-tailed coats."

    "But I digress," I went on. "Finally, a man approaches me."

    "Mr. Freeman?"

    "That's me."

    "I'm your ride. Come with me."

    "Where are we going?"

    "Follow me, please."

    He lead me out of the terminal, back into the hot night air. As we stepped to the curb, a black Toyota Landcruiser pulls up, and he got into the passenger seat. I opened the back door, tossed in my one suitcase, and climbed in."

    "Mr. Nightcrawler," the man who'd met me said, "My name is Gordon Willis. This man," he said, indicating the driver, "Is Sergeant First Class Dave, US Special Operations Command."

    "I see," I said. "Just 'Dave', then?" Dave grinned as we pulled out of the airport onto the busy main road.

    "Plausible deniability, Mr. Nightcrawler," Gordon said. "Military involvement with this project has to be kept to an absolute minimum. Officially, SFC Dave is on medical leave and is in Thailand."

    "What, exactly, is the project?" I asked. "Nobody's told me anything. They dragged me over here under threat of going to prison. I'd at least like to know why I'm here and what I'm going to be doing."

    "Mr. Nightcrawler," Gordon said, "I don't need to remind you the consequences of a security violation on this. OPSEC is important to us as officially, this project doesn't exist."

    "Yes, yes, I know, they'll send me to prison."

    "If you're lucky."

    "Uhhhh....I see. Okay, fine, double-oh-seven stuff. Whatever. I can roll with it. Now will you please tell me what the hell is going on, please??"

    "Welcome to Dead 6, Mr. Nightcrawler," Dave said, speaking at last.



    TO BE CONTINUED...
     
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2006
  25. Dionysusigma

    Dionysusigma Member

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    :D :D :D

    /me bounces giddily in my computer chair as it threatens to collapse under me

    More! :) :D :p
     
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