Chapter 1 — Operation: Don’t Panic
Chapter 1 — Operation: Don’t Panic
Stg. Salty and the Misfits Prepare for War
There are moments in life when a man looks around, takes a deep breath and asks himself one very important question.
“Are we completely screwed?”
For Stg. Salty, that moment came on a cold Wednesday morning when he was sitting outside the pub, drinking a cup of tea and watching the news.
The headlines were full of Russia, NATO, drones, borders and the sort of phrases that made ordinary people quietly reconsider their holiday plans.
Salty stared at the television.
He took another sip.
Then he slowly put down his mug.
“Right.”
McFinleyyy looked up from his phone.
“What?”
“We're preparing.”
“For what?”
“War.”
McFinleyyy stared at him.
“Against who?”
“I haven't decided yet.”
“That seems important.”
Salty ignored him.
“Get the lads.”
---
Twenty minutes later, the Misfits assembled.
McFinleyyy. Govna. Senior Miguel. WhizzAir. Quags. Quagmire. Sarah. Susan.
And then there was a new face.
The pub door opened.
A man walked in.
Dark glasses.
Confident stride.
Far too much enthusiasm.
Finholio.
Salty looked at him.
“Who invited you?”
Finholio pointed at himself.
“I heard there was going to be a war meeting.”
Salty frowned.
“And?”
Finholio grinned.
“And I brought myself.”
McFinleyyy leaned towards Govna.
“Is he actually qualified for this?”
Govna shrugged.
“He once assembled a flat-pack wardrobe without instructions.”
Everyone went quiet.
Salty nodded slowly.
“Fine. You're in.”
Finholio smiled.
“Excellent.”
“What can you do?”
Finholio thought about it.
“I can shout.”
Salty stared at him.
“How loud?”
Finholio took a deep breath.
“VERY LOUD!”
Quags nearly fell off his chair.
Salty nodded.
“Congratulations. You're now the alarm system.”
---
Behind them sat the group's pride and joy:
the Leopard 2.
It was enormous.
It was intimidating.
It was also parked slightly over the kerb.
Salty pointed towards it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if the worst happens, we're ready.”
Finholio looked at the tank.
“That's ours?”
“Yes.”
“Can I drive it?”
“No.”
“Can I press a button?”
“No.”
“Can I sit on it?”
“No.”
Finholio thought about this.
“Can I polish it?”
Salty paused.
“...Yes.”
Finholio immediately disappeared to find a cloth.
Sarah watched him go.
“He's going to be trouble.”
Susan nodded.
“He already is.”
---
WhizzAir arrived carrying his DJI drone.
He placed it carefully on the table.
“This,” he announced, “is our reconnaissance capability.”
Finholio examined it.
“Does it have missiles?”
“No.”
“Machine guns?”
“No.”
“Cup holder?”
WhizzAir hesitated.
“No.”
Finholio shook his head.
“Poor design.”
WhizzAir pressed the launch button.
The drone lifted off.
It flew approximately three metres before crashing into a bush.
Silence.
Finholio looked at WhizzAir.
“You sure it's not a cup-holder problem?”
WhizzAir pointed at him.
“Don't start.”
---
Salty had prepared an equipment briefing.
There were radios.
Torches.
First-aid supplies.
Helmets.
Protective jackets.
Emergency bags.
The Leopard 2.
WhizzAir's increasingly battered DJI drone.
And an enormous box labelled:
EMERGENCY BISCUITS — DO NOT TOUCH.
Finholio stared at the box.
“How many biscuits?”
“Enough.”
“How many is enough?”
Salty gave him a hard look.
“Depends how many you eat.”
Finholio slowly stepped away.
“Understood.”
Sarah immediately noticed him looking back at the box.
“Finholio.”
“Yeah?”
“Don't.”
“I wasn't doing anything.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Finholio smiled.
“That's not illegal.”
Sarah's expression suggested she was considering changing that.
---
Then Sarah and Susan stepped forward.
They had been quietly organising everything while the rest of the Misfits were arguing over biscuits.
They were, as everyone had long suspected, the closest thing the group had to Titana from Command & Conquer.
Sarah opened a folder.
“Food.”
Susan opened another.
“Water.”
Sarah held up another.
“Medical supplies.”
Susan produced a final sheet.
“Personnel accountability.”
Finholio looked at the paperwork.
“What's mine?”
Sarah handed him a sheet.
“You're responsible for keeping track of everyone.”
Finholio looked horrified.
“Everyone?”
“Yes.”
He looked around the room.
McFinleyyy was arguing with Govna.
WhizzAir was trying to retrieve his drone.
Quags was asleep.
Quagmire had somehow acquired the emergency biscuits.
Finholio slowly handed the paperwork back.
“I've changed my mind.”
Sarah smiled.
“Too late.”
Finholio sighed.
“Fair enough.”
---
Salty climbed onto the Leopard 2 and looked across his assembled crew.
The Misfits.
A strange collection of people, questionable equipment and highly variable levels of common sense.
But they were his team.
And if trouble ever came to them, they would be ready.
Or at least slightly less unprepared.
“This isn't about looking tough,” Salty said.
“If something genuinely dangerous happens, we stay together. We keep calm. We listen to proper instructions. We don't spread rumours. And we don't go charging off like idiots.”
Everyone nodded.
Finholio raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“What if charging off like an idiot is my special skill?”
Salty stared at him.
“Then you'll be doing it somewhere very far away from me.”
Finholio nodded thoughtfully.
“Understood.”
McFinleyyy whispered to Govna:
“I like this guy.”
Govna nodded.
“He's definitely one of us.”
---
The tank engine suddenly started.
BRRRRRRROOOOOOOOM.
Everyone jumped.
Finholio screamed:
“INCOMING!”
Everyone ducked.
Salty looked around.
“It's the tank.”
Finholio slowly stood up.
“Oh.”
Sarah folded her arms.
“Excellent alarm system.”
Susan nodded.
“Very effective.”
Finholio straightened his jacket.
“Exactly as planned.”
Salty climbed down from the tank.
“Right.”
He looked at his Misfits.
“If trouble comes to us, we're ready.”
WhizzAir raised a hand.
“What about the drone?”
“Fix it.”
Finholio raised his hand.
“What about me?”
Salty looked at him.
“You polish the tank.”
Finholio nodded proudly.
“Understood, Sergeant.”
Salty paused.
“It's Stg.”
“Even better.”
Salty sighed.
This was going to be a long week.
And somewhere underneath the Leopard 2, WhizzAir's DJI drone made a faint electronic beep.
Finholio looked down.
“Is that supposed to do that?”
WhizzAir sighed.
“No.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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