The Adventures Of

SPOOFE And Spooge

Episode VI

 

Prologue... 

A bright red Firebird pulls up into a convenience store parking lot.  The drivers’ door opens.  A young woman steps out, short, blonde, dressed in a red blouse, red pumps, and black pedal pushers.  Wrap-around sunglasses adorn her face, pushing her hair back behind her ears.  She reaches back inside and grabs her purse, then shuts the door.  She walks across the parking lot towards the 7-11.

The automatic doors open, and the cooler air rushed outside, striking her skin with a small shock, sending a slight shiver course over her body.  She walks to the back, where the cold drinks were kept behind the clear refrigerated doors.  A few seconds later, she was walking back to the counter with a Sprite in her hand.  The clerk rings up the purchase, and she hands him a dollar, then grabs her soda and walks out of the store, leaving her few cents of change.

As she walks back into the heat, the temperature differential again strikes her skin, causing her to inhale sharply.  As she takes a few steps back towards her Firebird, she pops open her can of soda.  A large spray of lemon-lime and carbonation pours from the can, soaking her blouse, her face, her hair.  She stands there dripping soda for a few moments.  After a deep breath, she tosses the now half-empty can aside, then pulls off her shades and turns towards the convenience store.

She takes another deep breath and releases it, emitting another small spray of moisture off her lips.  With a calm exactitude, she reaches into her blouse and pulls out a large gun.  The word “OuchMaker” is written in red along one side of the ten-foot silver barrel.  She levels it over her shoulder, aims at the 7-11, and fires.

The blast causes the small store to shatter in a wave of bricks and glass, a massive cloud of flame jetting up from the lot.  The shockwave passes throughout the area, setting off car alarms.  The short woman sticks her Ouchmaker back into her blouse and returns to her car, her lips parting in a smug smile.  She climbs back into her Firebird and starts the engine.

As she drives away, a small control board built into her dashboard beeps.  She reaches over and presses a little red button.  A small screen swivels down from the ceiling, and a dark-hooded figure with glowing red eyes appears on screen.

“Katharine,” the dark figure said.  “Report back to headquarters immediately.”

 

During the summertime, shopping malls are a popular place to hang out.  As it was, the food court for the Promenade Mall was crowded with teenagers talking loudly and milling back and forth.  One particular teenager, dressed in a black suit, silver tie, and wraparound sunglasses poking back into his silver hair, had just purchased a large Classic Burger with cheese and a soda from Tommy’s and was heading back to the tables with it.  He pushed his way through the crowd, nearly spilling his food several times, looking for an empty table.  After a few moments, he spotted a table on the other side of the large room.  With a sigh of relief, he made a beeline for the table.

Halfway there, he spotted a table full of attractive young women.  With a goofy grin, he altered course.  He walked up to the table.

“Hello, girls,” the young man said.  “I see that neither of you are wearing a bra.”

The girls stared at him for a few moments, then turned away and giggled amongst themselves.

“You know what they say about guys who wear black in the summer,” he said, trying to get their attention again.  As they turned back towards him, he flashed his thirteen-dollar smile, just as some random person in the crowd crashed into him.  He stumbled forward; a bit of his drink splashed out of the cup and onto the girls he was trying to impress.  With a collective valley-girl huff, they all stood up and walked away.

With a shrug, he headed back for the empty table, with much difficulty.  As he was halfway there, he realized that he could have just taken the recently vacated table that the easily-angered girls had just left.  He was silently berating himself, and as such didn’t notice the stray chair the appeared in front of him.  He tripped and fell into his food, creating a small crater of condiments and Mr. Pibb on the floor.  A few people around him laughed.

The young man stood up and brushed off his clothes, then turned towards the chair.  He reached into his black coat and pulled out a shotgun.  He pointed his weapon at the villainous chair and opened fire.  The powerful shot tore through the weak mall-chair like it was Styrofoam.  After a few blasts, the chair was unrecognizable as such.  The crowd backed away quietly, a deathly hush filling the area.  The young man glanced around, then pulled out his license to randomly shoot things.  The crowd heaved a sigh of relief and went back to crowding.

The young man began walking back to Tommy’s to get more food, when something inside his jacket beeped.  He brought out a small, flat square, a comm unit with a screen built into it.  He flicked it on.  A dark-hooded figure with glowing red eyes appeared.

“Flip, get back to headquarters immediately.”

 

Down at the Whisky...

The crowd down on the dance floor was enjoying the live music.  On the upper level, there were several smaller groups hanging around the tables, talking, drinking, laughing.  At one table, a group of High School kids were looking around for a score.  They spot someone coming up the stairs...

She was dressed in tight, black leather pants, a very revealing white shirt, and a leather jacket.  Her hair was done up, with small strands pressed against her temples by her wraparound sunglasses.  She walked over to the bar and ordered a drink, flashing her special ID.  She walked over to a stand over in the corner and leaned against the wall.

The High School kids glanced over at her.  “Man, would you look at her...”  “She’s definitely looking for some action!”  “She’d go with me, man.”  “How old do you think she is, anyway?”  “I dunno, twenty, twenty-five...”  “I’m gonna go talk to her, man...”  “Go for it, go for it!”  “Got your ‘protection’?”  “Don’t need it, I’m never gonna see her again anyway...”

One of the bunch stood up, finished his grape juice, and walked over to where the young woman was standing.  He leaned up right across the stand from her.

“This is good music, isn’t it?” he said loudly, over the sound of the music.

“It’s passable,” she answered back, her voice precise and musical.

“You hang out down here a lot?” he asked.

“Occasionally,” she said.

He leaned in closer to her.  “Yeah, we rarely see a girl as hot as you down here.”  He grinned widely, like a carnivore.

“Oh really?”

“Really,” he said.  “I really mean that.”

“Well, thank you,” she said, turning her head slightly and grinning.

“Do you... ah... want to go someplace else where we can talk?  Maybe grab some dinner?” the High School kid asked.

Her grin got bigger.  “Why would I want to do that?”

“Well...”  He leaned in even closer, so he can whisper.  “I know of a place where we can get privacy, if you know what I mean.”

She chuckled slightly.  Suddenly, the High School kid noticed a shadow pass over him.  His grin falters, and he turns around to see the words “Pink Floyd” right in front of his face.  He glances up, up, and up some more to see a scowling, scruffy face, also adorned with wraparound sunglasses.

The kid stared up at that face for several seconds.  “That’s... um... my boyfriend,” the young woman said.

The kid began sweating.  The tall figure leaned in closely and growled.  With a loud shriek, the kid sprints off, tripping over a table, before returning to his seat.  His friends laughed at him.  The two dark-clothed strangers left the club by the back entrance and headed towards a limousine.  They climbed into the back, and immediately began making out.  They were interrupted by a shrill beeping, emanating from a terminal mounted above the refrigerator.  They looked over, and then the guy reached out and hit a small red button.  The terminal flashed to life, revealing the now-familiar dark-hooded figure.

“Kia... Chris... get your asses back down to headquarters.”

 

And so it went... the numerous Imperium officers called back from their myriad of activities...  CornHusker called away from a Fry’s Electronics half-off storewide sale... Ronnie and Daniel called away from school... Emily, Eric, and Casey called away from a roleplaying session...

Down in the Main Briefing room, the crowd gathered.  They milled about, chatting back and forth, wondering what was going on.  After a few moments (during which time they took advantage of the complimentary buffalo wings), SPOOFE walked into the room and took his place at the front podium.

“Thank you all for coming,” SPOOFE began.  “And for making complete pigs of yourselves with the buffalo wings.  Those things ain’t cheap, you know.”

“Your fault for making us wait,” Casey said.

“Well, I was watching that ‘Splode’ commercial.  And besides, do you guys really need to eat seven hundred and four buffalo wings?”

All eyes turned towards Flip.

“Hey!” he shouted.  “I’m hungry!  My lunch fell on the floor!”

There was a collective sigh as everyone turned back to SPOOFE.  “So what’s this all about?” CornHusker asked.

“Wait a second,” SPOOFE said.  “This is only the prologue.  Wait a few seconds...”

 

Chapter 1...

 

“...And Chapter 1 will begin!”

SPOOFE cleared his throat.  He pressed a button and the lights darkened.  He pressed another button and a white screen slid down from the ceiling.  He pressed a third (and final) button, and a projection of Britney Spears appeared.  Everyone present screeched.

“Now, now, everyone, let’s be professional!” SPOOFE yelled.

The door to the conference room broke down, and Ty rushed into the room.  “Britney!” he shouted, and ran up to the screen and began humping it.  SPOOFE pulled out his tazer and zapped Ty in the ribs.  Ty fell to the floor, writhing and twitching.  Scott came into the room, mumbled a bit, and dragged Ty away.

“Okay, okay, that’s done with,” SPOOFE said.  He grabbed the remote control for the projector and flipped the slide.  The image of Britney Spears disappeared, replaced by a badly decorated stage with poorly placed lighting.

“Okay, everyone, here’s the story.  My sources inside Warlord Spears’ organization have leaked information about her upcoming operations.  Apparently, she’s planning a new tour, which will be called ‘I’m Bigger Than Pink Floyd.’”

There were several gasps around the conference room.  “That evil little bitch!” Chris yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Calm down, people... remember, we’re soldiers!”  SPOOFE began pacing back and forth.  “There’s more.  My informant over at PepsiCo has just sent word that Spears’ organization is paying Pepsi several million dollars a year as a bribe to keep Pepsi from manufacturing Josta!”

“That crusty-cunt whore!” CornHusker shouted, leaping to his feet and bringing his fist down on the table.  The table shattered like something that shatters in a very shattering way, imbedding chunks of table into the floor.  A wave of exclamations brushed through the room.

“Calm down, calm down!” SPOOFE yelled.  “We’re a military unit!”

“No we’re not,” Ronnie said.

“Shut up,” SPOOFE replied.  “Now, since we all have nothing to do--*”

“We have plenty to do,” Danielle said.  “We’re just not doing it.”

“--We’re going to go kill some bad guys and topple Warlord Spears’ evil empire of annoyance!” SPOOFE finished.  Everyone cheered.  “Unfortunately,” SPOOFE continued,” I have absolutely no idea how we’re going to do it.  Any ideas?”

“We can all share love and kindness with everyone,” Jen suggested.

“We can all go to the Ren Faire,” Emily suggested.

“We can all have sex,” Kia suggested.

“We can all play Tribes,” Eric suggested.

“I like the sex idea,” Chris said.

“Me too,” CornHusker said.

The more-prudish members of the gathering shouted their displeasure.

“Toe the line!” a random Englishman shouted, waving his sword in the air.  “Toe the line, I say, this is Parliament, not a madhouse!”

“No, it’s a madhouse,” SPOOFE said.  “Corny, would you please evacuate our guest?”

CornHusker glanced over at the English guy and grinned.  He jumped forward, grabbed the English guy by his collar, and tossed him none-too-gently into a little tube and pressed a red button on the wall.  With a powerful rush of compressed air, the English dude disappeared.

“So here’s the plan we’ve got,” SPOOFE said, pressing another button.  A picture of a short, fat, sweaty man appeared.  He didn’t look very happy.  “This is Warlord Spears’ manager.  We have to get in to him and try to cancel the tour, before it can ever get off the ground.  Then, after that, we have to go in and assassinate Spears herself, and so return Josta back to the world!  Can I get an ‘Amen’?”

“Amen!”

SPOOFE shut off the projector and leaned against the podium.  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.  First, we’re going to party, as usual.  But second, we’re going to figure out how to stop Spears.  Eric, Ronnie, Corny, you guys will help me formulate an attack plan.  Chris, Casey, Flip... you four get down to the armory and begin sorting out the equipment.  Danielle, Kat, and Kia, you guys get down to the information center and sort through our sources, and transfer all the relevant info to the war room.  JJ, Emily, and Jen... you three get up to the garage and prep the Josta I and the other attack vehicles.  Everyone got it?”

“Yes!” Everyone said.

SPOOFE sighed.  “Go away, will you?  You were supposed to stay in Episode IV.”

“But you guys smell nice.  Especially the blonde one.”

“Go away!” SPOOFE yelled.  Everyone sulked and walked out of the room.  “Good... now let’s go party!”

 

After a brief shindig lasting seventeen hours, SPOOFE grabbed Eric, Ronnie, and Corny, and headed down to the war room.  He assumed that all the others went off to take care of their respective tasks, but this story’s gotta pick up in terms of action, so for the sake of brevity, I’m not gonna give a crap about them.  Hell, it’s not like I ever do, anyway.

“Get back to the story,” Eric said.

Shut up, Eric.

“He’s right,” Ronnie said.  “This is all just mindless drivel.  And you’re breaking the rules of Narratorship.”

Shut up, Ronnie.

“Hail Nebraska!” Corny said.

Okay, okay, I’ll get back to the damn story! ::ahem:: Anyway, the four of them got down to business in the war room...

“Which doesn’t mean sex,” Ronnie interjected.

Shut up!  I’m being good, see?  I’m narrating!

“Good,” Eric added.  “Leave it that way.”

All right... anyway, they’re in the war room.  SPOOFE headed for the main planning chamber and brought its holographic interface online.  Ronnie and Eric took seats at the main terminals dotting the chamber, while CornHusker grabbed a keg of Josta and began slurping.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got,” SPOOFE said.  He grabbed the control panel for the holotable and brought up a directory of the intelligence gathered.  “All right... obviously, we’re going to want to kill Warlord Spears at some point in the future, right?”

“Either that or beat her to a bloody pulp and feed her to a giant midget,” CornHusker said, giggling.

“In which case she’d probably be rendered dead anyway,” Ronnie said.

“And isn’t a ‘giant midget’ a normal-sized person?” Eric asked.

“Yes, but more fun,” CornHusker replied.

SPOOFE cleared his throat really loudly.  “So we’re going to have to get close to her to do the dirty deed.  Does she have any upcoming public appearances that we can off her during?”

Ronnie tapped a few buttons on her consol.  “No,” she answered after a moment.  “And I’d like to point out the horrendous choice of words that you used.”

“What, what?” SPOOFE said.  “What was wrong?”

“Nobody uses the word ‘off’ as a verb anymore.”

“Oh, shush, it’s hip.”

Corny grinned.  “You wouldn’t know hip if I broke both of yours.”

SPOOFE sighed.  “Okay, okay, I’m hardly a popular person, we all know that.  Now shut up before I send you all to the salt mines.  We have a battle plan to formulate!”  He scanned through the main database for a few more moments.  “Okay, so we don’t know where Spears is, at the moment, or her manager.  And, despite my best efforts, we don’t know where her fortress is, either.”

“So we have to find out,” Eric said.

“Well... yeah,” SPOOFE replied.

“Here’s how we do it,” Eric said.  He pressed a few buttons, and a holographic image of a young Cuban boy appeared above the main briefing table.  “This, as you all well know, is Elian Gonzalez.  He was found floating in the waters off the Florida coast, and soon the mass media began splashing his disgustingly cute visage all over the country.”

“We know, we know,” CornHusker growled.  “We’re trying to forget.”

“Of course you are,” Eric continued.  “However, that entire story is a ruse.  Elian Gonzalez is really a mad mastermind planning to conquer the Caribbean.  He and his group, the Pirates of the Caribbean, apparently have been working through Fidel Castro and have been gathering allies in the States.”

“Spears being one of them,” SPOOFE said.

“Correct,” Eric replied.  “Others include N’Sync, the Backstreet Boys, and the Democratic Party.”  Eric cleared his throat.  “Anyway, it’s pretty well-publicized that he’s being sent back to Cuba, supposedly, by the State Department.  So at the moment, he’s vulnerable to attack.  If we can get to Elian, before he’s sent back to Cuba, we may be able to extract Spears’ location.”

“I like that plan,” SPOOFE said.

“Do we know what kind of defenses that Elian has in place?” Ronnie asked.

Corny raised his cup of Josta.  “It doesn’t matter, I’ll smash through ‘em all!”  He tilted his cup back and swallowed his purple-ish liquid.

“Corny’s right,” SPOOFE said, “the defenses don’t matter.  However, it’d be a good idea to get some intel about our target.  And to find out what it is, we turn to...”

“...The Wheel of Morality?” Ronnie asked eagerly.

“No, Conan O’Brien!”

Conan ran in from behind a curtain, his dopey Irish grin on his face.  “Hey, hey, welcome to the show... yeah, thanks for pity clap, really... we’ve got a great show tonight... it’s a great show, lots of fun... great fun, really, it’s great...”

“Shut up, Conan, we need help,” SPOOFE said.

“Oh.  Can I stop smiling now?”

“Yeah.  We need info about Elian Gonzalez.”

“Ah, yes... Little Elian, as I call him...”

“No comedy sketches.  This is serious.”

“Ah.  Sorry.  I’ve been a little loopy since Andy left.”  Conan began to cry.  “I miss Andy.  I miss his smile, his laugh, his big fat cock...”

“I’m sure you do,” SPOOFE said with a sigh.  “But for the time being... Elian?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Conan said.  “What do you need to know?”

Ronnie stood up and walked over.  “We need to know where his base is, that’s what.”

“Oh, right, right,” Conan continued.  “I was just thinking about...”

“If you say ‘Andy’, I’m going to beat the whiskey outta ya,” SPOOFE said.

“Uh... no... I wasn’t going to say ‘Andy’,” Conan said.  “I was going to say ‘Max’.  Yeah.”  He cleared his throat.  “Anyway, Elian’s base.  He was a compound set up in the middle of the Florida Everglades.”

“The Everglades is a big place,” Ronnie said.

“Right, right, sorry,” Conan said.  He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card.  “Here you go.  Address, phone number, E-mail address... everything.”

Ronnie grabbed the business card.  “Annoyingbrat@world_domination.com?”

“That’s him,” Conan said.  “Now, can I go, please?”

“Yes, you can,” SPOOFE said.

“Oh, goodie!” Conan exclaimed, clapping his hands and giggling.  He ran off behind the curtain.

“Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!” CornHusker said.  He jumped off his seat and walked over to the briefing table.  After typing a few buttons, a hologram of a gigantic mansion appeared.

“Is that Elian’s fortress?” Ronnie asked.

“No,” CornHusker said, “that’s Bill Gates’ place.”  He pressed a few more buttons, and a hologram of a merely huge mansion appeared.  “This is Elian’s fortress.”

“Floor plan?” SPOOFE asked.

Corny typed a bit more.  The image shifted to a blueprint of the previous image.

“Very nice,” SPOOFE said.  “Okey-doke, we’re gonna make a plan, but since this is beginning to get boring we’re going to shift to the next scene...”

 

...The next scene...

The Josta I, a Regal-class starship, roared towards Florida at full speed.  Well, nearly full speed.  After all, full speed would be kind of overkill, wouldn’t it?  I mean, they’re in a hurry, but not THAT much of a hurry, so there’s no point in putting the main reactor and engines through undue wear-and-tear.  I mean, shit, I have to take care of all this crap with no help from anyone, so is it so bad when I want to save myself unnecessary hassles?!?  I have to put up with so much shit and I’m fucking tired of it!!

::ahem::

Sorry.  Anyway, our loveable heroes and Flip were just approaching Florida, flying high so as to avoid smoke from wildfires.  SPOOFE and CornHusker were in the cockpit, scanning the Everglades for Elian’s fortress.

“Is that it?” Corny said, pointing to a target acquisition on the scanner.

SPOOFE directed the sensors toward the signal.  “Nope... just a bunch of tourists slaughtering manatees.  Keep going.”

Corny nodded, and kept the ship flying for a few moments more.  Another signal blipped across the screen; SPOOFE checked the acquisition.

“Whoa, I think we’ve found it,” SPOOFE said.  He punched up an image of the target on the cockpit’s consol.

Jutting out of the treeline of the swampy area was an eighty-foot-tall tower shaped like a bearded cigar.  Surrounding the base of the cigar-tower were small bunkers and garages, with several small vehicles parked in sight.

“Wow,” Corny said, “imagine the intern you’d need for that thing.”

“And Monica’s big enough already,” SPOOFE said. “Bring us down.”

CornHusker pushed the pitch control forward, and the nose of the craft began angling groundwards.  The artificial gravity in Josta I kept everyone comfortably in place.  After a moment of descent, a powerful blast rocked the ship.  SPOOFE glanced out the side viewport to see a large black cloud behind the ship, the result of an anti-aircraft cannon.

“Activating shields!” SPOOFE exclaimed, hitting the shield controls and bringing them up to 100% power.  

Just in time, too... right as the shield sphere hardened, another AA blast hit Josta I square on the nose.  The blast made the whole ship vibrate violently.  The bad kind of vibrate.

“Shields down 15%,” SPOOFE said.  “Get us to ground now, as quick as you can!”

“Okey-dokey,” Corny said.  He brought the craft into a perfect nosedive, at a perfect 90° angle.  The pressure began to overload the inertial dampers, and SPOOFE felt himself being pressed back into the seat.  Spots began to dance in front of his eyes, and he felt light-headed.

“Whoa, dude, this is so cool,” Corny said, his entire body being smashed beneath the pressure.

“Grrglle...” SPOOFE said, with drool spreading to both sides of his face.  “Pull... up... now!”

“Why?” Corny asked.

Just as he did, the nose of Josta I imbedded itself into the swampy floor of the Everglades with a loud CHUNK.

“A perfect landing!” Corny said.

“I agree,” SPOOFE mumbled, unstrapping from his seat and walking to the rear compartments of the shuttle.  He found Casey, Katharine, Eric, and Flip sitting around a table, drinking cheap soda and roleplaying.  Kia and Chris were in the far corner of the briefing room, while Ronnie was in yet another corner drawing.

SPOOFE pressed a big red button against the wall, and the floor plates in the center of the room flipped over to form the briefing table.  “Let’s get down to business, everyone!” SPOOFE called.  Nobody paid attention.  “Hey!  Fearless leader calling, over here!” SPOOFE said, a little louder.  Again, nobody paid attention.

CornHusker burst his way in from the cockpit.  “Sex!” he bellowed.  All of a sudden, all eyes were turned to him.  Corny just grinned and pointed down to where SPOOFE was pouting.

“Oh, it’s you,” Casey said.  “What do you want?”

“We have a mission, remember?” SPOOFE asked.

“No,” Eric answered.  “If we did, we wouldn’t be asking, ‘What do you want?’ now, would we?”

“Shut up, Eric.  Everyone gather ‘round.”  He paused for a bit to allow everyone to “gather ‘round”.  Nobody moved.  SPOOFE sighed.  “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do... all of us are going to get in our combat garb and armament... ‘cept you, Ronnie, you have to stay behind and monitor transmissions.”

“How come I never get to kill stuff?” Ronnie asked.

“Oh, hush up, Ronnie, this is only the first story you’re in.”

“Fine.  I’m just going to sit here and... eat some Rice Krispies.”

Everyone stared at her a bit for her non-sequitor.  “Ri-i-i-i-ight,” SPOOFE said.  “Let’s get in gear!” 

A few minutes later, the squad had reconvened outside the oddly-landed ship and was preparing to move out.

SPOOFE was glancing about the area.  “We don’t have much info on this place... somebody forgot to check Yahoo for maps of the Everglades.” He glared at Flip.

“What, what?!?” Flip objected.  “I was busy with Napster and playing Worms!”

“Of course,” SPOOFE said.  “Anyway, we do have some aerial photographs of our flight in... we’ll look them over as we head through the Everglades, but I don’t think we’ll find anything interesting.”

“Why’s that?” Katharine asked.

“This is Florida.  Nothing ever happens here, right?”

Kat sighed.  “Right...”

“Luckily, I have my super-spiffy SPOOFE Sense!” SPOOFE exclaimed.  “My super-spiffy SPOOFE Sense tells me... to go that way!”

“What way?” Eric asked.

“That way!”

“What way?” Casey asked.

“THAT way!!”

“WHAT way?!?” Katharine asked.  “When you say ‘that way’, you’re supposed to point!”

“Oh yeah.”  SPOOFE cleared his throat and pointed.  “That way!”

“Okay!” everyone shouted back.

Anyway, they walked and walked and walked and walked, for hour after hour they trudged until SPOOFE realized that they had been going the wrong way, so they turned around and walked and walked and walked and walked, for hour after hour they trudged, until they had arrived back where they started, where they kept going for fifteen seconds and arrived at Elian’s evil fortress.

SPOOFE crouched behind a fallen log and motioned for his team to disperse.  He then called Eric forward.

“Give me some recon, Eric,” SPOOFE said.

Eric nodded and pulled out his binoculars.  “Hmm... can’t see much...” he said.

“That’s because the base is ten feet in front of us, genius,” SPOOFE replied.

“Oh.”  Eric put his binoculars away.  “Well, it appears that there’s a big cement wall in front of us.”

“And what would you suggest?”

“Uh... go over it?”

SPOOFE rubbed his chin.  “Hmm... good idea, but no.  We’re going to go through it!  Katharine, come here!”

The short blonde appeared from behind a bush and stepped forward.  “What do you want now?  I suppose you want a blowjob?  Doggy style?!?  Bondage?!?  What, what, wha-a-a-a-at?!?!?”

SPOOFE blinked.  “Uh... I want you to blast a hole through that wall.”

“Oh,” Katharine said, sheepishly.  “Okay.”  She pulled out her OuchMaker and hefted it over her shoulder.

“Wait a second,” SPOOFE said.  “Use the silencer.”

“But... the silencer is twice as big as the gun itself!”

“It doesn’t matter,” SPOOFE replied.  “Stealth is of the essence.”

Katharine sighed.  “Fine.  But turn around.”

“What?  Why?”

“‘Cuz I don’t want you to see where I keep the silencer.”

SPOOFE sighed and complied.  A few seconds later, he heard a wet squishing noise, followed by a sharp click, and Katharine said, “Okay, you can look now.”

She was off-balance with the her Ouchmaker and its ten-foot long silencer attached to it.  She stumbled slightly.

“A little help here, please?” she asked.

SPOOFE climbed underneath the gun and supported the barrel of the weapon.  “All set now?” he asked.

“Yeah, hold on,” she said, peering through the scope.  When she got her target in her sights, she pulled the trigger.  SPLAT went the Ouchmaker, and the wall suddenly had a massive hole in it.

“Good job,” SPOOFE said.  “Move out!”

SPOOFE hopped through the hole, and the rest of his team followed (Kat dawdled for a few moments to put her gun away).  On the other side of the wall was a large compound, and the squad sprinted across towards the fortress’s front door.  SPOOFE positioned himself along one side, and the rest of the squad took up positions surrounding the area.  With a slight gesture, SPOOFE waved CornHusker forward, than pointed at the door.

CornHusker grinned.  “Hail Nebraska,” he whispered.  His arm flew backward, then reversed direction and smashed into the door.  A sonic boom reverberated throughout the area, and SPOOFE took the opportunity to run inside the fortress.

Several guards just inside the doorway were still recovering from the impact Corny’s fist had on the door.  Without hesitating, SPOOFE opened fire on one of the men, while Casey, right behind him, took out the other.  The team dispersed into the entry forum; after some brief moments of really nifty-looking hand signals, they continued on.

Beyond the entryway was a T-junction.  SPOOFE motioned for Corny, Flip, Casey, and Eric to take one direction, while he and the rest of his team took the other.

The hallway that Corny ran down soon ended in a large door.  With no hesitation, he smashed that door in, too, finding a large chamber.  He flicked a light switch against the wall, revealing hundreds upon hundreds of crates, all marked “Explosive”.

“Ha-a-a-a-a-ail Nebraska...” Corny mumbled, a small stream of drool dangling from his chin.

Meanwhile, SPOOFE’s group had run up a stairway and through a small, lightly furnished common room.  A quick survey of the room showed it to be uninhabited, but SPOOFE noticed that the TV screen was still emitting some static, indicating that it had just been turned off.  He cautiously approached the door on the other side of the room, and pressed his ear against it.  He heard movement and muffled voices, so he backed up and kicked the door in, and began firing.  He ducked to one side of the door to allow the rest of his group access into the room beyond.

There were half a dozen guards, and they were all caught unprepared for the attack, and within a few seconds they all fell, with smoking holes dotted about their lifeless bodies.  SPOOFE quickly checked the fallen men.

“None of these men are Elian,” SPOOFE announced quietly.

“Shh,” Kia replied.  She pointed towards a closet.  “Over there.”

SPOOFE ran to the closet and yanked the door open.

“Oh my gosh!” SPOOFE exclaimed.  “It’s Elian Gonzalez being held hostage by Sadaam Hussein!”

“I’m not Sadaam Hussein!” the man inside said.  “I’m that deluded fisherman guy who randomly saved Elian from drowning, and now I believe that it’s my sacred duty to prevent him from coming to any harm!”

“That’s nice,” SPOOFE said, shooting the deluded fisherman guy who etc. etc. etc. in the head.  He grabbed Elian’s shirt.  “C’mon, punk, you’re coming with us.”