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spencerwayne-todd · 1 month ago

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Keeping up with the Waynes: Thanksgiving special

(The whole family is gathered in the extensive dining room of Wayne Manor)

Bruce: Family, welcome to the 22nd annual Wayne Family Thanksgiving. This year, we have a new face joining us! Please welcome Aster!

Everyone else, in perfect tandem: Welcome, Aster!

Aster: ...hi?

August, to me: Tone down the magicky stuff; dad will notice!

Me: I'm trying.

*Everybody visibly relaxes a bit*

August, whisper-screaming: SPENCER

Me: I'M TRYING!!

Bruce: So, Aster, we have a family tradition that I began when I first got Dick and Spencer. Instead of going around the table and saying what we are thankful for, we go around the table and say whatever bad things we did throughout the year that we need to get off our chests with no judgement or punishment.

August: It's our once-a-year get-out-of-jail-free card.

Jason, whispering to Aster: It always makes Dad asphyxiate.

Aster: Do I want to be here?

Me: Oh, we'll keep it toned down.

Aster: Ok.

Bruce: Now, of course, you don't have to say anything, but if there's anything you need to get off of your chest, now is the time. The floor is open.

Duke: I crashed the Batmobile last week.

Bruce: That's ok, Duke. I love you.

Duke: Thank you.

Kate: I blew up the warehouse on South Main, not Jason.

Bruce, through gritted teeth: That's ok, Kate. I love you.

Kate: I love you too.

Jason: I stole the steering wheel from that douchebag yesterday.

Bruce: I know, Jason. I was with you.

Jason: Oh, right. Also I stole your tires off the Batplane and sent them to Themyscira.

Bruce: That's ok, honey. I love you.

Jason: Thanks, dad.

Cass: I throat punched a guy who whistled at me.

Bruce: That's ok, Cassie; you didn't do anything wrong.

Cass: *Beams*

Stephanie: I broke my record at Waffle House and then accidentally set the counter on fire.

Bruce: That's ok, Steph. I love you.

Steph: I love waffles.

Damian: I brought home the litter of kittens we found on patrol last night.

Bruce: That's ok, habibi. I love you.

Damian: I love you too, baba.

*Conversation continues as camera zooms*

Aster: Your family isn't that insane. I like them!

August: I am so glad.

August, to Spencer: How did you do it?

Me: I have no idea.

*Camera zooms back out to main conversation*

Tim: I hacked the FBI database to put myself higher than Jason on their 'Wanted' list, but I accidentally incriminated myself in another high-profile crime, so if the FBI show up looking for the guy who stole the U.S. nuclear missile codes and sold them to Russia, they're looking for me.

*Silence*

Bruce: Did you do it?

Tim: No.

Bruce: Do you have the missile codes?

Tim: Yes.

*Silence*

Dick: I got a new piercing!

Bruce: Where?

Happy Thanksgiving from the Waynes!!!

@august0bone August, tell the nice people Happy Thanksgiving.

#keeping up with the waynes #thanksgiving special #oc rp #dc rp #batfamily #roleplay #rp #batfam #dc comics #batman #jason todd #batman family #august wayne #spencer wayne todd #crimes #happy thanksgiving #thanksgiving #holidays

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annaphoenix1994 · 1 month ago

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Aftershock

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

A swift knock on General Herschel Shepherd's oak door disturbed him of his duties. With an irritated and curious "Come in!", Shepherd was pleased to see Station Chief Kate Laswell. Shepherd knew she meant business when she came to speak with someone one-on-one, but the news he was prepared to hear was not what he was in the mood for. "Laswell." He greeted, setting his pen aside.

"General Shepherd." She nodded, presenting herself in a respectful stature.

"Boy, do I know that look," He sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Are we at war?"

"You would be the first to know, sir."

"Damn right I would. Now talk to me."

She sighed, nodding before presenting her digital tablet to him, zooming in on an artificial map. "We have a hit on Ghorbrani's second in command."

Shepherd chuckled in disbelief, taking the tablet in his hands. "Hassan Zyani. Quds Force Major."

"He's taken up the mantle for Iran."

"Supplying terrorists."

"Money, weapons, intel."

"Well, he's ambitious."

"He's dangerous, sir. He wants retaliation for the Ghorbrani strike. He's planning something."

"We can't take him in Iran."

Laswell leaned over his desk, using her index finger to open a new page on her tablet. "He's not in Iran, sir. He's on the ground in Al Mazrah."

"What the hell is he doing in Al Mazrah?" Shepherd scoffed.

"There is only one way to find out, sir."

"Well, let's get him."

"When?"

"What time is it now?" Shepherd cocked a brow as if he were challenging her.

"Who do we send?"

»»-------¤-------««

Are you kidding me? I'm helping take out a hit on a wanted terrorist and having to babysit, too?

I had been on holiday for the last seven months, pushing my body to its limits while training as I was a highly respected Lieutenant on my Task Force, which consisted of three other men: Captain Price, Sergeant Garrick, and Sergeant MacTavish, and only one managed to really get under my skin.

I sighed at the familiar name, knowing that this was definitely going to be an interesting mission. Soap always found ways to get under my skin, taking advantage of the fact that he had the backbone to actually aggravate me, knowing I wouldn't do much about it because I let it go through one ear and out the other. The only thing I could do was shoot him a death glare and spew hateful comments, but neither seemed to faze him, like he was pleased with how well he could piss me off. I haven't seen Soap since 2020 when we and Captain Price were assigned with Shepherd to carry out a hit on one of our most valued targets: Vladimir Makarov, which ended up being a bust. We caught him, but Soap lost his composure and nearly shot him in the helo after our target misled us.

Fortunately for Makarov, he got to live to see another day, but that still wasn't good enough. The Russian rat could eat shit for all I cared, and I wish that Soap would've pulled that trigger, regardless of Price's command to stand down.

Maybe one day.

Soap jumped down from the back of the truck, smiling and nodding at me before approaching me, "Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.?" He questioned, playfully fist-bumping my shoulder. "I'll save you a seat, sir."

Of course, we'll get a win, Soap. We always bloody do, at least when I'm a part of it.

"Fucking hell." I sighed, watching him walk away through my tired eyes. I hadn't slept in almost twenty hours, and it was starting to take its toll on me if I didn't make myself move.

Plenty, but it'll do me no good to tell you about it.

»»-------¤-------««

I had the pleasure of leading Bravo Team while Alpha Team kept close by. We cleared a structure completely before taking on heavy enemy fire, causing one of our cover-fire helos to go down, resulting in unfortunate casualties. There were many questions as to if we were to move ahead and secure the crash site, but I made it clear that if we did that, we were compromising ourselves, so we needed to push forward and clear the closest buildings before securing the crash site.

There were more snipers than I was expecting, but Soap and a Marine did me proud by taking out the snipers effortlessly as me and the other men on the ground could proceed with clearing the next building. Hassan was everywhere – like a God to these ignorant bastards. It was disgusting how someone could blindly lead a band of loyal followers.

Eventually, all enemies were neutralized. All except for one – Hassan himself, and I was sure he got away when we secured the crash site. Soap questioned if we shouldn't have helped the downed helo in order to catch our target, but I made a stern statement that all actions have consequences, and this was a prime example.

We secured a perimeter around the complex to make a last-minute attempt to search for Hassan as all of us didn't want to go back empty-handed. When a Marine used a heartbeat sensor, he informed us that there was movement detected in what looked like a vacant warehouse. "L.T., that warehouse has a lot of windows on the top floor. Broken glass, too."

"Yeah, that's where a lot of enemy fire was coming from." I shrugged.

"Detecting over a dozen heartbeats in there, sir," A Marine informed me, flashing the screen of his heartbeat sensor at me. "I'm willing to bet he's in there."

"Maybe not. Regardless, we need to neutralize it. Might be something worth finding. Spread out. I'll take point."

"I'll be right behind you, L.T." Soap said.

"Keep up, Soap."

"I always try to, sir."

The warehouse erupted with enemy fire when we forced entry, most of the bastards wearing armor and relying on frags and flashbangs. They were definitely protecting something, and I was going to find out what it was. I was a man on a mission, and nothing was stopping me. These bastards couldn't even come close to the force that I was.

"Ghost! All clear!" Soap shouted from his cover position.

"It's not clear until I can confirm, Sergeant," I grumbled, moving up and taking cover against a shipping container. "Sergeant Miller, ensure the upper level is clear."

"Yes, sir. My sensor isn't detecting any more heartbeats. Brooks, watch my six."

"On it."

"Hopkins, keep that door secure."

"There's no movement up here, sir!" Miller shouted from the upper level as me and the rest of the Marines moved up to secure a position near the shipping container. It was suspicious that a single shipping container was laying in the middle of the warehouse, a flat trailer and few crates nearby. What was in this thing?

"What the fuck is this?" Soap grumbled, opening the door to see a discharge station – the same one I had seen prior to when I was assigned to Al Mazrah with General Shepherd and his PMC group to conduct a missile strike on General Ghorbrani seven months prior to this. Why do they have something like this?

"It's all in English!" I scoffed in disbelief, stepping in to view the discharge station closer, confirming my suspicion.

"Al-Qatala's got some serious shit in here." Miller commented, keeping his eye on the rear entry point of the warehouse, his rifle aimed.

I could've scolded Soap for the curious pull he did to one of the levers, and perhaps I should have, but for once in a long while, I was too stunned to speak. Soap and I stepped back as we looked up towards the sound of hydraulic cylinders in action, watching a massive unit moving into a firing position. Fucking hell, we definitely have a problem now.

"Ballistic missiles." I sighed.

"It's a mobile launcher, no?" Soap asked.

"These'll go a thousand miles..." Miller commented.

"Yeah, at least."

"How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?" Soap cursed, walking towards the side of the container to climb the stack of pallets to get a better look at it.

"7-6, get us through to Laswell."

"Roger. Standby."

"Uh, Ghost... Take a look at this." Soap said, breaking my focus when he looked down at me, moving to the side before I saw an American flag painted on the side of the unit itself. Bloody fucking hell, these were stolen missile launchers. But how?

»»-------¤-------««

"All right, clear the room," Shepherd stated, entering the conference room of the Pentagon. His face stayed stationary with defeat, frustration, and anger. His employees looked at him stunned, each of them jolting when Shepherd raised his voice for urgent response. "Now! Everybody out! Let's go!"

Laswell stayed behind, standing at the foot of the table, eyeing her laptop as she looked as confused as he was. She knew she was about to get an earful for something that he could blame her for if he wanted to, even though it slipped through everyone's hands, not just hers.

"Iran is in possession of American missiles." He said, confirming what Ghost had told him from the mission.

"American missiles in AQ's hands."

"Hassan has been passing out our ballistic missiles like it's fucking Halloween and we didn't know about it?" He shouted.

"Gives Iran plausible deniability," Laswell replied.

"Oh, plausible deniability my ass – Iran's all over this. I wanna know how many they have and where they intend to use them!"

"If Hassan is moving missiles, then he has a smuggling partner."

"Well, then I would advise you to figure out who that is."

"Give my team two hours with those missiles, sir. I will know everybody who's even breathed on them."

"Negative. I want them destroyed!"

"General, there's valuable intel there."

"This is an intelligence failure, Laswell! It's not gonna be a tactical one. There will be 500 enemy soldiers on that site by sunrise. We need a win fast!" He stated, leaning for his radio.