The three Marines went into a local park and sat there for awhile, talking amongst themselves. Jones spoke to Hoot more than Tomala, who was too drunken to make a coherent conversation with. He eventually got them into more trouble than he was worth. He began talking all crap to a man in a solid red shirt. Though, normally, Hoot and Jones would have thought nothing of it. But this man had a tattoo that even said, "Blood 4 Lyfe" on it.
He talked shit back and then left and eventually, Meyen met up with the group. He sat down next to them, unaware of the events that had occured earlier.
"'Sup? I've had to deal with a mute in my fuckin' room. Thought I'd get some fresh air." The sergeant said, oblivious to the fact a group of gangsters were approaching them.
The gangsters walked up and surrounded them and noticed Meyen was still in his BDUs. This was means to joke them. They saw the patch that said, "Space Marine" and decided to spice things up a bit.
"Yo, Army faggot! How ya doin' soldier? You a gyrene? Man, all ya'll nigga's do is swim in water. Fuckin' pussy bitches. Bet you want to join the Army, where da real action is at, dawg." The man said, his English terrible.
"How 'bout you shut the fuck up, nigger."
"What the fuck did you say to me cracker? Nigger? I'll fuck yo ass up. Wanna fight, bitch?"
Meyen stood up, unafraid of these punks. They had no idea who they were messing with. But, they would find out soon enough. He was no pussy and he would go hand to hand combat with them any day of the week.
"Maybe I do."
"Good, yo. That bitch there can suck my dick if I win."
This angered both Jones and Hoot and they both stood up. The gangster, feeling threatened, pulled out a Glock. Its selector switch was to full automatic. He was definitely a coward and his group of friends outnumbered them three to seven, not counting Tomala who was too drunk to fight.
"Come on, bitch. Wanna fight me now?"
Meyen smirked and then said, "Nah man. I'm sorry."
Suddenly, Meyen pulled out an M1911 Colt .45 pistol and pulled the trigger. The weapon fired and the bullet pierced the man's head. He fell to the ground, lifeless. His buddies backed away and Hoot had his USP out and aimed it at them. The gangsters ran and a police officer who had witnessed the scene came over.
"You guys alright? Nice job handling those punks. You Marines?" The officer said.
"Yes, officer. Sergeant Meyen, Hell Hound platoon."
The officer nodded and then called for an ambulance. He knew the man was dead, but he did not care. They would call a coroner later. The four Marines left the park and went back to the hotel, in which the whole platoon was gathered in the front lobby. They were definitely going to go somewhere.
"Alright, I vote we all hop in the van and take a trip to the movies. Catch up on some good movies."
The platoon agreed and Corporal Godchild nodded solumnly. He honestly did not care what they did. He would just tag along. Though, he was slightly angered at the lieutenant. He had taken all of his joints and had command raid his locker back on the Normandy of all drug substances. The only reason why he did not yell at his superior is because he arranged for Godchild NOT to undergo a military court marshal under the accusations of carrying controlled substances on his persons, which was illegal both by U.S. law and under the UCMJ.
Now he was stuck with only alcohol as his main stress reliever and problem drowner. That, and cigarettes. He sighed. He really wanted to smoke a joint. Though, he could not really locate any so he would just manage and try to quit. Try.
The Marines all hopped in the van. It was time to head to the movies.
((OOC: Just post in limbo basically. All posts from here on will be in the van. When I post the next turn, you will be at the movie theatre.))
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