“Aye, what’s the mission today Lass?” A female ginger Merc drunkenly stumbles into her Boss’ office.

Janet, the Boss in question was typing something on a computer when she looked over to the drunken Irish Mercenary to her left. “Nothing right now, I’ll try to have a contract by the week,” She annoyedly explained. “Go make your own mission to pass the time or something,”

Fuisce, the Ginger Merc grumbled something about being bored as she left the office and stumbled into the living room.

She drunkenly flopped headfirst onto the couch

Johnson walked down the hallway and into the living room; excited to do his daily salute practice before noticing that Fuisce had crashed facefirst into the couch.

“Hm, what the?” Johnson started confused at the woman blacked out on the couch. “Private O. McBauma, what the hell are you doing?”

“Wha?” Fuisce yelled as she suddenly woke up. “It’s MacBauma ya twat! An’ I’m blacked out on the couch cause Ah’m feckin’ bored,”

“I’m glad you said that Private cause I have a little person mission to do!” Fuisce perked up at this.

“Ah’m listenin’ what do ye have in mind?”

“Well, there’s this police outpost a couple miles out from here, I’ve been meaning to destroy it for awhile,”

“Say no more lad, I’ll get mah weapons,” Fuisce cheered as she barelled into her room.

She stumbles over the beer bottles and charred patches in her room and opens up her closet and shoves on her bomb proof vest and skirt. Fuisce also grabs her grenade launcher, plenty of c4 and whisky filled hip flask on her way out.

She bursts out of her room with her hands on her hips.

“Ah’m ready Johnny!” Fuisce cheered.

“That’s good Private, the outpost isn’t too far from here,” Johnson explained as he walked Fuisce over to the escape van.

Johnson sped down the road in the van, breaking every single road safety law to get to this outpost.

“Aye, what’s the plan once we get in?” Fuisce asks as she takes a swig of her flask.

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“We’re going to kill everyone and then we’re going to take over the outpost!”

“I like the sound of that, lad!”

The two arrive at the police outpost, entering it by slamming their van directly into the wall to the break room, they smash through the front window of the van and land on the floor.

“Alright you sons of bitches, get dow- no one’s here,” Johnson looked around. “I guess it isn’t the Boys in Blue’s legally mandated break yet,”

“Ahhye, phrbhlly,” Fuisce mumbled through a mouthful of donuts she had begun to yoink off the table in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck was that noise?” Someone grumbled from beyond the break room door.

“They’re here, get ready to fight Private!” Johnson shouts as he pulls out his shotgun

“Lad aye Lad!” Fuisce mock salutes as she pulls out her grenade launcher.

The door swings open. “Jeremy, I swear to God if… ah shi-” The cop’s head is blown off by Johnson

“Officer Billbert’s down, requesting backup!” Another cop screeches as he flees to the barracks.

Johnson and Fuisce rush into the other room and set up some tables as a sort of makeshift cover.

“Private, this is where we hold until the people who aren’t us die!” Johnson ordered.

“I got it lad, kill everyone one of ‘em!” Fuisce cheers.

“Yes! We will win this wa-” A flashbang is thrown between the two celebrating mercs. “Shit,” “Shite,”

The flashbang blinds and deafens the two mercs, who instinctively fire their weapons in completely random directions. This kills and/or maims several police officers and firmly most of the building’s walls.

“Aye, me fucken’s ‘ead ‘urts!” Fuisce complains as she drags Johnson back to the break room.

“Private…” Johnson groans as he shakes off the flashbang. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve got a plan, Lad, keep the cops distracted for a minute!”

“You got it Ginge!” Johnson salutes as he jumps out of Fuisce’s grip.

Cops begin to cautiously walk into the destroyed room. Johnson pops out from the entrance to the break room and fires upon the Cops with his M1 Garand; the cops in turn, use the only not destroyed wall of the room as cover to fire at Johnson.

A few bullets ricochet off of Johnson’s helmet, a few bullets hit a few cops after a while of this, Johnson retreats into the break room.

The officers all begin to chase the Soldier into the room. As they flood in they see not Johnson, but Fuisce happily taking a swig of her flask with a detonator in her other head.

The cops turn around and see that the door frame behind them is covered in c4, which explode completely destroying the wall and the officers.

Johnson and Fuisce stand in shock for a minute, before loudly celebrating and cheering

“We focken’ did it lad, the outpost’s ours!” Fuisce takes a huge swig of her flask, as does Johnson.

“We have conquered this place in the great name of the Second Democratic Carlist Anarcho-Primivitist State of the Countristan Mercenaries!” Johnson loudly cheers. “We have truly liberated the inhabitants of this Police Outpost all-”

“What the FUCK did you two just do?” Janet yells from behind the two celebrating Mercs.

“Oh, hello Captain,” Johnson salutes. “We killed everyone and took over a Police Outpost,”

“You- I- wha-” Janet adjusts her glasses as she stares mouth agape at the wreckage, she stares at Fuisce, who is taking another celebratory swig of whisky.

Janet suddenly barrels into the Irish Merc and snatches the whisky out of her hands.

“Aye, what the fu- don’t hog it all for yerself!” Fuisce complains as Janet chugs the entire thing all at once. She then runs into the remnants of the break room and wolfs down as many donuts as humanly possible.

“Aye, what’s gotten into her?”

“No idea, wanna keep celebrating?”

“Sounds good Lad,”