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Writing Insect Strike [M-VL]


Sir Gawain
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This is based off of the Assassin Academy sign up story. I felt that it never got the attention it deserved, so for anyone who cares, this is it.


The silent chopper swept over the semi-deserted landscape of frozen Russia. Four people, dressed in black jumpsuits, were seated in various locations, apparently bored with their job.

The one flying the chopper was humming to himself lightly, taking this routine mission like an afternoon drive. You could almost hear him saying, "cow" and "moon" several times.

The biggest of the group, large, muscular, and an overly deep voice, was sitting on the floor. No seat could hold his bulk, or rather his weight. He was polishing what could have been mistaken for two small gattling guns and mumbling about why he couldn't have finished his steak earlier.

A woman, actually the only woman, was standing by the open door, gazing down into the icy wasteland beneath them. If she hadn't been wearing a mask, it is possible that there would have been a look of sorrow upon her face.

The final member of the team, a lightly built man, sat cross legged in his seat, meditating as his instructor had always taught him. "Calm before the storm is key to nature, and what is more natural than murder?" she would always repeat. That phrase had been drilled into his skull more times than he had ever breathed.

These four individuals were the Insect Strike Squad of the Hashsashin Temple, more commonly known as the Assassin Academy. What made matters worse for them was the time of the year. It was December 30, two days before the new school year. This was their exit exam, their final test to see if they deserved to become Seniors in the school.

Twelve new freshman would be arriving in two days. They were suppossed to be good, probably better than some of the highest ranking already in the academy. But they would become better.

The radio in the chopper buzzed three times, one long burst followed by two short bursts. A signal from the temple. Mantis, the man flying the chopper, reached over and grabbed the handset and clicked it on. "Mantis reporting. Is this Scabbard?"

A drawling voice replied, "Affirmative. This is Scabbard. Status report Mantis. Are you in position?"

Mantis turned in his seat momentarily to check with his squad leader. Wasp, the man who was meditating, nodded without looking up. Well, Mantis thought, he's either nodding or falling asleep. "Yessir. We should be arriving at the landing zone in two minutes. I estimate, about one hour after that we'll be returning."

There was a long pause on the other end of the radio. "Unacceptable. We need you back here before the first. I want you at the landing zone in one minute and the mission complete in thirty. Finish at the designated time or not at all. We don't need failures. Over and out."

Widow, the woman by the open door, was smiling. Mantis had purposely misled the headmaster to give them more time. In truth, in their three years at the Assassin Academy, this Insect Strike Squad had finished every mission within twenty minutes. Giving them each enough time to stop by the nearest worldwide McDonald's for a pick up.

She turned around and broke her gaze away from the foreboding landscape. Wasp wasn't acting like himself. The kind of responsibility that was forced upon him shouldn't be. Mafia bosses were meant to be taken out by trained professionals, not students. But here they were, ready to kill easily one of the most dangerous men on the planet.

Of course, this man of importance, this, Hashish, had never before met a Hashish eater. He had never met, a Hashsashin.
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OOC: Well, some form of feedback would be nice. I'll post the next part as soon as I possibly can. But for the sake of continuity, that'll probably be once every two days. Flames are accepted.
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