TheSoviet

Ramier - Back in the USSR.

Prikker/Snikker - Gangster's Paradise

The Maltans - Let's make Hand Grenades.

I like posts that let me talk about guns.

I'm a sad little man.

"Ready, compardres?"

"Sí commandante."

Samuel Reikoff checked his energy gloves one more time.

"El jefe aceptable, recuerda, nosotros está viniendo adentro de varias localizaciones. Lopez, palillo con él. Y recuerde, nuestro contrato expira solamente si el dinero para el fluir, heheh."

"Understood."

(("Okay boss, remember, we're coming in from various locations. Lopez, stick with him. And remember, our contract expires only if the money stops flowing, heheh."))

"All's folly but the drums of war." Rulaag snorted.

"That's a saying from where I'm from."

Rulaag hissed with anger, grabbing the slugthrower. The acute of sight could see a puff of green surrounding the Frog.

Rulaag again went for his slugthrower, but held, signalling for some more swampwater.

((*double takes*))

((I can do this.))

((Nobody move! This is a single-post thread hijack!))

He still remembered the day.

Reikoff frowned. "Hey Marcus?"

"Huh?"

"Why did we not have agents there to stop her?"

"Err...eheh.."

"Marcone...."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds real high class." Rulaag grumbled. "I'm SURE that really furthers the races you give THAT to."

"NUB ME!"

Slap!

"NUB, ME!"

Slap!

"NUB, MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

And two Troll brothers dove on the 'dyne, beating the living hell out of one another as all good Trollkin should.

And then a vision appeared.

Prikker looked up, then did a double take.

"Halliloosenujjun?"

"Prikker. Snikker. The MAGI Office in Atlas Park. 11:30 A.M. tomorrow. You are needed."

"Gah, bud wud we du? Da skah uz neebed fur?"

"He will elaborate when you get there.

And just like that, the illusion was gone and the Trolls were slugging it out once more.

Rulaag licked his eyeball. Looking at the hyper...rodent...creature...He spoke up.

"So, uh, what are you again?"

Rulaag shrugged. "Whatever keeps the world a turnin'. Besides, we wouldn't be symbiotes without warfare."

At the stares he got, he grinned. "My million little buddies here."

((I sorta had to emote, because, well, words are hard to come up with...))

((...Jeeze...))

"Because!" The Frogman butted in, "That's one less baddie tryin' to pump you full of lead!"

The Frog took a single gulp, and then sat the bottle on the table.

Those who were observant would actually see the thin green film on the top of the slowly shrinking amount of water.

"Believe it or not, I'd like some of the stereotype you'd expect."

"Swampwater, if you will."

The Frog shook his head. "I wouldn't worry. Just some interceptors from their main fleet. We don't get along too well."

The Frog Soldier instinctively flipped the Slugthrower off of his back, aiming at the....

...?

The amphibian holstered his weapon, licking his eyeball. A thin haze of excited bacterium drifted about him now.

"Oh, nah, not the humans." The Frog chuckled. "They'd have never broken an Imposter Class. No, no, we believe this was a rogue Rikti interceptor squad. No idea why they'd be here, though, our long-range surveillance didn't detect any open warfare like you guys have been having."

"I sorta had a bit of an "Engines on fire" problem." The Frog explained, zipping his C-Jacket. "Ambush and all that."

Agent Rulaag had leaned against the wall, clicking into his comm. He sighed. "Looks like I'll be here for a bit." He clicked, licking his eye again, "Now, I see this is a staging area of sorts?"

"Err..."

"...Inn?"

"Anyone here see a fireball about forty tongues wide go screamin' down past here?" The frog clicked, licking his eye again.

"Well, anyway, until Miich gets back to the Carrier, I'm stuck here. I'm assuming you're not all the natives of Emerald CV-688?"

"Err, I mean, this planet?"

((Hrmmm...))

((Well, I specialize in earthbound weaponry, *Leers at Malta,* but I guess I could throw in someone I've envisioned...))

"You're gonna hit the atmosphere way to fast!!" Was the rough translation of the clicks made from Agent Miich's Dragonfly-claas Strike Skiff to Agent Rulaag's Imposter-class Commerce Raider nearly three seconds before the latter's world went white.

Rulaag awoke spattered across about twelve feet of pavement.

"Dammit...."

Slowly, the puddle formed up into a vaguely humanoid creature that many could compare to a frog standing upright.

"This is Rulaag," He clicked into a small comm extending from his helm. "Miich, do you copy?"

"Agent Miich, do you copy."

The frogman shook his head, licking his eyeball quickly and checking the state of his C-Class "Puddlejumper" suit, which allowed the adults of his species to revert to their youth's slimy form and stay decent. The C-Class was a body armor, which looked just like a frogsuit (No pun intended) painted with forest camo. Securing the optional C-Class vest he'd been provided (Looks like a flak jacket painted with forest camo,) He looked up to the nearest building.

"The Brown Dwarf."

How quaint.

Slinging his slugthrower around his back, he takes a step inside....

((AR/Poison corruptor. I know it doesn't work. The poison is a bacterium that lives on all of his species symbiotically. They communicate with clicks but Agent Rulaag has a translator in his comm.))

((Ok.))

"Ah sure hope that's not ma' boy...Utherwyse ah may hafta waste ah few bullets righ' awf tha' bat...."