Florida Everglades. 0325 hours.
Red Dog cursed under his breath as sniper fire rang out not too far away.
“Blast it”! He shouted as reinforcement. “Where was that comin’ from?”
“Don’t ask me, ‘Dog”, Bull replied in his thick Turkish accent. He lifted his rifle. “Let us see if we can find out, eh?”
Normally operating as the Renegades, under the auspices of several layers of black ops protocols, their connections to the Slaughterhouse sometimes put them on operations in tandem with the Marauders, who were certainly a shade below gray themselves, but not quite as deep as the trio of Renegades. While the Marauders were known for their quick strike ops against domestic and international targets, the Renegades were not. In fact they were unknown completely.
Often times used in assassination plots and other unspeakable purposes, the unusually dressed Renegades chose to let their actions speak above their wardrobe. Red Dog lifted his Desert Eagle pistol as he turned East in another flanking attempt, with Bull close behind. They didn’t get far before the stench of motor oil mixed with sweat permeated the air. But they could not see any vehicles…
The lacrosse stick club pounded Red Dog in the back of the head, though he had sensed it coming and was already shifting his momentum, so the blow was just a glancing one. Bull spun rattling off gunfire from his silver machine gun. Rounds drilled Thunder in the chest and tossed him back, but the funny looking lacrosse pads weren’t just for show. They were reinforced with ballistic battle armor, and the Dreadnok motorhead rolled backwards into a low crouch, his teeth bared.
Bull was unfazed and started towards him, but was interrupted by a massive frame of a “man” slamming into him broadside. Bull was no small person himself, and being the well trained acrobat that he was twisted effortlessly and landed on his feet, facing off against the mountainous Road Pig.
“Nice dodge, baldy,” snarled the monstrous white-haired Dreadnok. Easily the strongest, most powerful, but least stable of the whole lot. “But lessee you dodge THIS!”
Road Pig charged forward, his cinder block hammer swinging in a low, ferocious arc.
Red Dog had recovered and turned to help his friend, but suddenly, Thunder was upon him, wrestling him to the ground. Red Dog’s Desert Eagle barked loudly, but only hit air as he felt himself being drilled into the swampy muck.
Finish your own adventure on my 30th Anniversary Review Page or click the links directly below!
- BBTS Exclusive Slaughter Marauders Red Dog
- BBTS Exclusive Slaughter Marauders Bull
- BBTS Exclusive Dreadnoks Thunder
- BBTS Exclusive Dreadnoks Road Pig