This one's for you, BLAKKSTONE. You'll really feel this one. It's the origin story you've wanted.

Warnings: excessive violence, swearing, sexual content, everything that makes a mature rated story. Not appropriate for younger audiences or anyone faint of heart. KTHNXBAI.

Also, this is a fictional account on a real and current event, so don't get your panties in a bunch.

Overseas Contingency Operation- Horn of Africa, 2002:

Underground Bunker

Captain Damijin Spade of the United States Marine Corps, with his company of 5 scout/sniper teams representing the 3rd LAR(The Wolfpack) of the 1st Marine Division, were gathered and going over their mission. It was simple since they were STA(Surveillance and Target Acquisition) members: take out leaders and anyone important as to cripple the enemy.

"Who's the two best snipers?"

A black man about 6'4" and a Latino, also 6'4", both stepped forward.

Spade: "Alright, alright. Justice, Falcon...about 400 yards from here is a fortress, long abandoned but is being used to train Somalian pirates. Also on the east and west sides of the fortress, there is one tower each containing a scout sniper team apiece inside both of them. Your objective is to approach from the south of each one."

Lance Corporal Virgil Justice: "Not to question the intelligence of the Captain, but I think we should come from the southeast."

Spade: "You in a hurry to die, Lance Corporal?"

Justice: "Sir, no, sir."

Spade: "Then shut that fuckin' cum guzzler you call a mouth!"

Spade turned to Private Ramon "Falcon" Guillermo.

"Falcon, what's your weapon?"

Falcon: "An M40, sir! 7.62 millimeter rounds and it's a brain surgeon from 1,000 meters, sir!"

Spade: "A bolt-action. Well, are you equipped with a night vision scope?"

Falcon: "No, sir."

Spade: "You've got a lot to learn, rookie. Take my Barrett."

Spade wanted to make sure his team heard him after handing Falcon his rifle.

"Listen up, bitches! This is a night mission! Night, assholes! As in, opposite of day or complete darkness. Switch out your rifles to your night vision scopes."

"Excuse me. Captain Spade?"

Spade turned around to see a black woman, about 5'8", and then turned back to his group.

"Company, attention!"

Everyone got into line and saluted the woman in front of Spade.

"What did I tell you about your choice of words to your subordinates?"

Spade slunk.

"To refrain from derogatory comments, ma'am. But, Major, look at these retar--"

"Spade."

"Yes, ma'am."

Major Caroline Rena: "That's better. As you were."

The Major left.

"Anyway, people...this is a night mission. We'll be going at 2230 hours. That's 10:30 tonight. Anyone got a problem?"

"No, sir!"

Spade: "Good. As you were, gentlemen."

2230 Hours- South of the West Tower

Spade stood with Falcon and Justice, each man holding their weapon.

"Basically, guys- when you fire on the first tower, report to me and we'll take care of the second one. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good luck, Marines."

"Thank you, sir."

South of the East Tower:

Spade, with an M40 while his sniper- a private by the name of Ryan Ericsson- was with his own Barrett. Spade looked through the spotting scope and caught a glimpse of a man looking over the land that surrounded the fortress.

"Captain Spade, sir."

"What is it, Ericsson?" replied Spade.

"What will you do when this war is over, sir?"

"Shit, I don't know. Go home to my lady and my two sons who I got waiting for me. How about you, Private?"

"I've been so accustomed to this kind of work, but never to an excess. I was a marksman for San Diego SWAT for six years before all this war shit happened," said Ericsson.

"How many kills did you--I got a visual. Fire."

A single shot from the Private's M107 put down the Tango.

"Tango one down, sir."

Spade was getting an incoming response from Falcon and Justice.

"Targets neutralized, Captain."

"Good. I'm on the other one. Maintain radio silence until further orders. Spade out."

Spade locked on with his M40, pulling back on the bolt and firing a 7.62 round into the other sentry's head, dropping him on impact.

"Lance Corporal Justice, call in the Two-Seven." said Spade, getting back on the radio.

"Yes, sir."

Spade turned to Ericsson.

"Let's get ready to kick some pirate ass."

"Yes, sir!"