USF Progenitor & Crew: Adventures in Cosmos 01

[#82] Good Thinking, Jim

On the first basement level of the Vertices Province Outpost #144, a team of nine mercenaries were rummaging through powered-down computer-locked containers and ordinance crates looking for goods. The levels above them were teeming with the Red Russians who garrisoned the outpost, on the balconies, rooftops, and near the entrances into the outpost.
"Yo. Guns ready?" Jason Rare asked in a smooth and low-pitched tone, looking up at the hard cement ceiling and feeling the vibrations from ships that were landing above them. The infra-bass sound of the ship engines shook the entire basement level, causing dust to fall from the ceiling with cement chips.
Jason had fair skin and looked Asian, his eyelids naturally squinted, though hidden by his baby-blue tinted sunglasses beneath his clear visor helmet. Same as his black, straight hair, covered by the helmet. He was 6'1" and beefy, strongest at the legs with giant calves. Like the other mercenaries with him, Jason was wearing a black Flex-Cell armored vest over his black tactical space suit, equipped with Renegear plasma grenades and stun grenades. On him, he had a GX-7 sub-machine gun with 4x56 full clips of 7mm rounds.
"Nah, we don't need to use guns, Jay, what you thinkin'?" Harold James claimed jokingly with a straight face. Harold was an African American, a large and round bellied man, around 6'2", and heavyset. He loaded up a more conventional MP-97, pulling the slide and letting it go rapidly to quickly load the 9mm round clip.
Jason held back a laugh, not wanting to alert anyone above them.
Harold quietly stated in a harsh tone, "Nah. The guns we got ain't gonna cut it with these government goons, man. I beg to differ with myself, but they be sounding like they stomping grounds is right here." He looked up at the ceiling again, and through the ventilation openings that he thought could be entered from the outside.
Jason, Harold, and the seven other mercenaries heard the voices coming in through the old, unpowered ventilation systems. The systems being off completely exposed everyone in the compound to the outside, unbreathable air.
"How can there be no weapons in this b$tch?" Asked Dante Pendleton in his African American, mid-tone of voice. "No weapons, no weapons!" Dante was African American, 6'1" with an average weight for someone of good height. He kicked another container's lid until it popped off its hinges, then crouched down to show them what he already knew. He picked up silver, rectangular MREs made for space cadets.
"Ayo, Dante, chill!" Harold ordered. While Harold disapproved, standing tall with his fists clenched, Dante was throwing the MREs at the other containers. He hammered Dante with his deep voice, "Nah, n$gga! You not making those sounds! Chill with that!"
The mercenaries bickered quietly, then Harold shushed them. Harold looked up at the ceiling, listening for the ships and voices. Then he pointed at his ear multiple times, eyes wide at Dante, and harshed, "Yo, listen to that! Ya'll n$ggas didn't hear that?!" Harold glanced around at his entire team.
"Nah, we ain't heard nothin'," said Michael Roosevelt, a white man who spoke with black flavor and ebonics like his friends.
"Yo, shut the f$ck up, n$gga!" Demanded Shelton Shannons hastily, another tall African American man, much skinnier than Harold.
"Nah, you ain't startin' sh$t now," Harold said, shaking his head in disapproval. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, sighing, then glancing at the weapons his friends were toting around. He could feel his heart thumping, more sharply focused on imminent threats.
Jason snickered, then he cut into the bickering and said more loudly, "Yo. Shut the f$ck up 'fore they hear you n$ggas b$tchin'—."
Dante stuck his neck out toward Jason then Shelton and harshed, "N$gga, ain't no n$gga gonna hear us with those ships sounding like that, n$gga chill... 'fore I take that f$ckin' broke a$$ gun 'n tell you go up there on yo own."
Jason replied smoothly, "Yo, quick b$tchin'." He snickered and hid back against the wall.
Shelton agitatedly declared, "I ain't b$tchin', man." He was shushed by the entire crew.
Harold shook his head and kept listening to whoever was a level above them. They heard muffled voices again, and it didn't sound like clear English.
"N$ggas be trippin'," laughed Martin Valerie, the most average of the mercenaries in height and weight, aside from Wyatt Delahoyt who looked almost exactly the same in his appearance, except for his weapon. Martin garnered a few chuckles from the crew.
Harold shushed them all again, still staring up at the ceiling and waiting for their intruders to pass by. He droned slowly, "Nah, of this sh$t gon' be like this for the rest of night, we gon' hide down in the bottom basement or somethin', cuz I ain't know what that is up there."
There was silence for a good half of a minute, with exception of the ships blitzing the air with their engines. The mercenaries stood still, most of them leaned up against the wall, in a line like Harold. Dante slid down to the ground and sat flat on his a$$.
Shelton's stomach growled, causing Martin to laugh. Shelton shook his head while Martin pretended to hold up his gun at Shelton then made pew pew sounds. Shelton sighed, then walked toward one of the columns, sliding down next to another cache container and glancing at Dante.
Harold sighed again and said, "Y'all n$ggas said this outpost was abandoned."
Jason agreed, "Y'all said that. Yo, who the f$ck come up with the idea to be here?"
"Sh$t, I did," Harold said, shaking his head again. He busted out chortling, causing the crew to chuckle.
Jason adjusted and said, "Nah, like, who the f$ck said this place was abandoned?"
They all paused.
Jason snickered and said, "Ain't none you n$ggas ever said, right?"
Dante stood up from the ground and claimed, "Nah, nah, Harold made that sh$t up, thass what happened." The crew began to laugh, and he said, "Yeah, n$gga lied to his own damn self is what happened."
Harold returned, "He said, n$gga lied to his own damn self." He chortled then shushed everyone again, thinking he might've heard something.
"Yo, I'mma peek up there, aight?" Shelton suggested, standing up and checking his weapon.
Jason snickered and said, "Yo, you the dumbest n$gga here, Shelton."
Dante laughed and said, "N$gga a fool!"
Wyatt snickered and agreed, "N$gga a daaamn fool!"
Shelton said, "Why y'all trippin'? Y'all n$ggas ain't wanna see what's happenin' up there? Sounds like—."
"Nah," Harold replied, laughing, getting laughs with the crew. "Ain't nobody wanna go up there, Shelton, you crazy. That sh$t would be like—yo, what's that sh$t we saw? Jay."
Jason thought for a moment. He answered, "You mean that hive sh$t with the drones, that sh$t. Yo." He and Harold broke out into laughter. "Nah, if it anything like that up there, we might as well head down now!"
Harold chortled again, placing his hand against Jason's chest out of reflex. He held his own stomach, still chuckling, then parroted, "Yo, he said, we might as well head down now!"
Dante added, "Yeah, while Shelton goes up and checks them n$ggas out lookin' all—," Dante charaded ducking and weaving with his weapon, then pretended to be James Bond, holding an invisible pistol up and running up to the column, hiding himself from his crew.
"That's why, that n$gga retarded," Martin declared.
The crew laughed while Dante and Harold both cackled, bent over at the waist, folding their arms over their stomachs.
Harold was calming down from laughing so hard. A tear ran down his eye from the laughter and the stress. He sighed and asked, "Ayo, you all got oxygen?"
Dante declared, "Was gonna say, we ain't gonna have no oxygen stayin' down here."
"N$gga, I know that. What level you guys at?" Harold asked.
Dante answered, "60%. And dropping."
Wyatt said, "Sh$t, me too."
Montell Pritchard spoke up and said in his strung-out tone, "I got 60%, too, man, this sh$t going downhill fast! We gotta get back up there!"
"Steal them n$ggas' suits or somethin'," Wyatt suggested softly.
Jason laughed out loud and parroted, "Yo! He said, steal them n$ggas suits or somethin'!" He kept on laughing, gaining a chuckle from Harold.
Harold said, "Nah, that's smart. See, n$gga Wyatt's smart! Gotta do that sh$t and keep a move on, ya feel—?"
Jason asked, "Yeah, but how we supposed to get their suits? How we supposed to be going up there 'n sh$t?"
Shelton declared, "Easy sh$t, we run up, gun them n$ggas down, n' then we take them n$ggas ships, too!"
Harold questioned, "You gon' do that? You gon' hit a government n$gga—?"
"Yo, how you know they ain't mercs like us?" Jason questioned Harold, smiling while Harold blinked his eyes and shrugged. "They ain't even in the building, yet."
Michael exacerbated the O2 situation, "The building gettin' raided and we over here survivin' on fumes."
The mercenaries opened up, telling each other their oxygen levels then bickering about what to do next.
Harold said above everyone else, "Nah. I ain't going out there, yo. We gonna get shot goin' up. Them n$ggas sounding Russian 'n sh$t. Ain't no way this place is abandoned." Harold shook his head, looking down at the ground. Sighing, he resumed, "We gon' find a place down below and figure out how to get the O2 going on in here, ain't give no f$cks about that. Sh$t, some of us should be doing that—."
"Should be doin' that right now, cuh! Turning on the power and sh$t!" Martin overlapped, walking away from the crew with Montell toward the door that led to the stairwell and elevator area.
Michael stated with a buzzing tone, "They gon' be lookin' for the power, too, n$ggas stay sharp."
Montell said, "You ain't going without me, man. Crazy."
Harold sighed and nodded his head saying, "Aight, yeah, I'm down to go check this sh$t out. You guys—some you guys gotta stay up here, doe."
Jason quickly responded, "I'm goin' with you guys."
"So we gon' split up, then?" Asked Shelton as the crew picked up in their light bickering and bantering again.
"Sh$t," Harold said, stopping in place near Montell and Martin. He leaned against the wall, looked up and said, "How we gon'... aight, wait, you know what we gonna do?"
"Finna split up," Wyatt said, pulling the slide on his weapon, then walking toward Shelton with his weapon at front sling carry, walking toward him like he was dragging his testicles on the ground.
Shelton said agitatedly, "N$gga what you doin'? Sh$t looks gay!"
"Yo, hold on!" Harold roughened. He exhaled a long sigh and said quieter, "Aight, so I'mma go with Jason, Martin, and Montell. Y'all n$ggas gon' stay up here and hold—position 'n... I dunno, do somethin' for us. We runnin' outta air."
"Aight, yeah, Harold, you go with them, it'll be me—," Shelton pointed at himself.
Wyatt affirmed, "You, me, Dante, and Mikey... and Drew boy." He turned to look at Andrew and said, "N$gga, why you ain't sayin' nothin'? You good?"
Harold and the team laughed at Wyatt, forming a smirk on Wyatt's face.
Wyatt look around at everyone then back to Andrew. He asked again, "Yo, n$gga, what's good?"
Andrew Johnson softly replied, "Ain't nothin' to say, man. Why you gotta bring the attention this way? Talkin' all loud and sh$t." The truth was, he was holding his breath as best as possible, his oxygen level at 75%, much higher than the rest of the merc crew. Andrew was their most technologically advanced crew member in the team of the nine mercenaries.
"Sh$t, I feel like we should've brought the whole a$$ mutha f$ggin' station with us," Dante stated, annoyed. "I feel like they gots—n$ggas up there."
"Ain't that the truth," Wyatt replied dryly.
Harold, Jason, Martin, and Montell headed into the corridor together without further delay. They snaked their way through the halls and got to the stairwell, walking down in single file fashion. Harold glanced at a sign that was inscribed with the Russian language with a graphic of a lightning bolt. They kept going down the stairs then got to the doorway, looking down the corridors and unable to see clearly in the dark.
"Yo, check your power levels. Whoever got less than 70, y'all n$ggas use your flashlights," Jason recommended commandingly.
"Ain't got no flashlight on me," Montell stated, touching around his vest and only feeling his lethal and tactical grenades then his ammunition pouches.
"Yo, you got a backpack, n$gga," Martin declared loudly.
Harold and Jason shushed them.
Jason said, "Sh$t the f$ck up and follow Harold."
Harold crept into the corridor looking left and right, noticing that the sound from above was nearly non-existent. He breathed more heavily in his space suit and claimed, "Yo Jay, we findin' this sh$t out. We gon' keep goin'."
Jason stayed quiet, weapon up and glancing around at everything, passing by signs and directions that were all in Russian. Jason snickered and said, "Yo, remember that lady? When we were back on Earth—?"
Harold looked back at Jason while still creeping forward and acknowledged, "Yo, I was thinkin' the same thing. That lady n$gga Jimbo was on about, sayin'... what Jim call her?"
"Jiiiim!" Jason repped. He reminded, "Called her something like... the armored or something."
"Nah, it was bodyguard," Harold argued.
Jason corrected, "No, Jim called her—the enforcer! That's what he said—!"
Harold overlapped, "Jay! That's exactly what he said! I remember it all, now, like it was happenin' yesterday!"
Montell asked, "Who the f$ck is Jim?"
Jason snickered and said, "Nah."
Harold shook his head, then nearly stepped on top of something that looked like a silver tray. He crouched down to pick up, swinging his weapon behind him to rear carry. What he thought was a tray was an oval piece of a mirror. Harold looked at the back of it, then flipped it around again, seeing himself, then held it up to Jason.
Montell knocked the mirror out of Harold's hand and said, "N$gga."
Harold sighed and looked at Montell expressing disappointment. He said, "N$gga."
Martin joked, "Y'all havin' a n$gga moment."
Jason snickered.
Martin found an open room and said, "Yo, come check this sh$t out. More containers in here, and they got some bombshell lookin' sh$t over here, too."
"What we need is an oxygen tank. Yo, Jay, check that room out with him," Harold ordered. "Montell, on me. I think I seen oxygen back that way. They got that O2 sign up back there."
Jay asked, "Yo, you sure?"
Harold looked at Jay and paused. He said, "Nah, I'mma find out. Montell!" Harold gestured to Montell to follow him, and Montell crept away from looking around the next corner, regrouping with Harold. Harold chuckled and pat Montell on the back.
Montell said, "N$gga ain't trippin'. Better not be trippin'."
Harold chuckled and parroted quietly, "Him say, n$gga ain't trippin'. Heh-heh, like we was trippin'."
"Them n$ggas up—stairs," Montell joked, chuckling with Harold.
Harold and Montell ambled back down the corridor, passing shelves of small boxes, pipelines, conduits, and electrical junction boxes. They got to the room that Harold was claiming contained the O2. Harold opened the door, pressing the button next to it and watching it slide open. Behind the door was a large room with two machines that carried and produced oxygen.
Harold and Montell exchanged glances, smirking. Harold walked in through the doorway and held his hand up gesturing Montell to wait outside the room.
Montell snickered and said, "Nah."
Harold snickered back and glanced around the room, looking for a power supply and oxygen tanks. Along the wall on the far side of the room were more shelves with manuals and small boxes. There was a door and a window next to it with another Russian sign, this time paragraphs long.
Harold declared, "That gotta be it, there."
Montell cautioned, "Hold up—something happening up top. Wyatt messaged me saying them n$ggas up there are inside the building now. Sounds like they're using remote control cars or something."
Harold ignored him, walking up to the door and window, failing to open the door. He looked through the window and said, "I think it's in there. You think that sh$t bullet proof?"
"Nah, that sh$t ain't bullet proof," Montell replied. He was looking at the O2 machine, running his hands along it, noticing it wasn't dusty nor in bad condition. Montell thought that the outpost appeared to be powered down until someone wanted to make use of it. He checked his messages again, seeing them on his helmet's HUD. "Yo, Harold—."
Suddenly, a burst of shots rang out, cracking the glass of the window, and startling Montell.
Harold kicked the glass until it all broke, shooting it again in certain spots to make it easier for him. He said, "Montell, stand at the door. Jay and Martin gonna come runnin', thinkin' some sh$t went down." Harold sighed, swiped away the broken glass on the window sill and struggled to climb through. He got to the other side and glanced around, seeing there was a backroom around the corner. Following that, he found a room of oxygen tanks, small, medium, and large. He searched around for personal oxygen tanks that were compatible with his and his crew's space suits.
Montell spoke loudly, "Harold—? Yo, Harold—? What you doin', man?" He stood at the shattered glass window and waited for Harold to come back around.
Jason and Martin peeked around the doorway of the O2 room's entrance. They saw Montell standing alone.
Jason called to attention, "Montell! Yo! What the f$ck was that? Where's Harold?"
"Harold in there," Montell claimed, pointing at the door. "He went like this—," Montell charaded holding an invisible sub-machine gun and shooting the window. "Then he went through it."
"Well, go check on him, crack head!" Jason snickered. "Martin, yo, stand here at the door."
Martin asked, "When we gonna go back to that room? I wasn't done checking all that sh$t out!"
Jason held up his newly found weapon, turning on the red-dot sight and aiming it at the O2 machines. He smirked at Martin and said, "Harold found the O2."

🎵 21 SAVAGE - HOT RIFLE [3STYLEGOD PHONK REMIX]