Date: Mon, 01 May 2006 08:26:47 +0000
From: Randy Dragon <naughtydragon69@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Mission (Part 16) military

Disclaimer:
This story deals with mature subject matter and involves intimate gay sex.
If it is illegal for you to read such material, due to your age or location,
then please don't. If you are offended by acts of sexuality between
consenting and non-consenting adults, then Do Not Read this story.

The author does not necessarily condone or subscribe to the behavior
discussed in this story.  It was written strictly as a form of entertainment
and acts described should not be attempted by anyone that does not know what
the hell they are doing. Any similarity with existing persons would be
accidentally as the whole story is pure mad fantasy.


The Mission (part 16)


All was lost. The overwhelming realization of defeat was hammering his mind.
Dwight was in a somber mood. The mission had turned into a terrible fiasco.
Somewhere behind in the pitch-black night, the Hercules had crashed close to
the shore line and vanished in a blistering ball of fire. The squad members
had been separated and the Sergeant didn't even know whether everyone was
still alive.

No matter what they had tried, it seemed as if the enemy had always been one
step ahead of them. It had already started back at home, when he tried to
get a most efficient team together and suddenly Brock and Wade were lost.
Later the hostile attitude of the Commodore on board of the USS Vincent
Mancroft had not really surprised him. There was the almost built-in rivalry
between Navy and USMC.

However, what had come as a shock was the shameful failure of the Seal
attack.  The Seals were the pride of the Navy.  The members of this unit
were highly trained, excellent fighters.  Even now, Dwight struggled to
accept in what pathetic manner, the entire squad had been netted by a bunch
of Asian fishermen. Something was terribly wrong.

At least they had made it close to the temple.  He had seen the dark
buildings illuminated by some flashing lightning before they went down in
the anticline. Somewhere ahead were the temple's walls, made of dark, almost
black granite boulders and about 25 feet high. Lee had gathered the
parachutes. He had stripped the jumpsuit and was down to a black tank top
and combat pants of the same color. Dwight suddenly felt the humidity
lingering in the air and swelling up from the rain soaked muddy ground. His
body was drenched in sweat and he hastened to get rid of the jumpsuit like
his friend.

The Asian seemed to be able to see in the darkness of the night.

"There, we can climb the walls," he whispered.

"Where? I can't..." Dwight was seized by his shoulders and pushed forwards.
The Sergeant was grateful that his friend was taking the lead. Too many
things were reeling through his mind.

"Wait!" He would have run head onwards into the wall, if Lee hadn't stopped
him. The slick boulders were even more slippery from the rain. Dwight's
fingers were traveling across the cold wet stones. An odor of fustiness and
decay emanated from the ancient stonework and seemed to infest his body. The
American sensed that he was not welcome in this place and he sensed the
danger that was lurking behind those walls.

"We'll never make it up that fuckin' wall," Dwight muttered in resignation.

"Take off your boots," Lee's calm voice came from behind. The Asian reached
over the Marine's shoulder and seized his hands.

"Do you feel the crevices? Here ... here ...and here and there," he said
guiding Dwight's fingers," we can do that."
A wave of Lee's hot breath was blowing in the Sergeant's neck. The lean
Asian hugged him from behind. He pulled the bigger man into his lanky frame,
gently kneading the sculpted pectorals through the damp fabric of the tank
top.

"We can do that. Trust me!" Lee blew a kiss at the side of Dwight's neck.

An instant later the Sergeant found himself hanging onto the slippery stone
work, virtually clawing his way up. The muscles of his sinewy body strained
while his toes and fingers struggled to find a footing. He was panting and
sweat was pouring from his pores; he could feel it dripping from his arm
pits. At the same time he felt the chill oozing from the damp stones and
seeping right into the marrow of his aching bones.

Dwight lost any sense of time and place. Was he almost on top of the wall or
somewhere in between the ground and the capstone? His fingers did hurt from
the pulling weight of his 200 lbs. body. His hot cheek was pressed against
the cold stones that were sapping the strength from him. The toes of his
left foot lost their hold and he felt the grip of his fingers loosening.

"Fuck!," a strangled grunt signaled his defeat. He would fail like the
others and smash to the ground in a heap of broken bones and torn flesh.
That was the end of the mission.

Just when he felt his clawing hands give way, his neck was caught in a
strong grip.

"It's just a few inches more," Lee's voice came from his side. The Asian was
glued to the wall like a huge spider. After he had made sure that the
Marine's toes had regained a safe hold, he crawled on top of the wall deck
and hauled the exhausted Sergeant by his neck and then by the back of his
pants up into safety.

Dwight lay on his back drenched in sweat and huffing. "Thanks man ... I ... I ...
wouldn't have made without your help..."

>From out of the dark came Lee's kiss. His lips closed on Dwight's mouth and
his tongue entered. The American responded and threw his arms around Lee's
shoulders pulling him down on his brawny frame.

It was always amazing, how the Asian managed to become the dominant partner
in their amorous play.  Dwight was a top by nature, however, in all of their
sexual encounters the big Marine found himself bottoming for the lanky
Korean.  He was never rough, but he seemed to have the most intimate
knowledge about the needs of Dwight's 205 lbs. body.  He knew when the time
was right for nibbling the bigger man's earlobes, for licking his man tits
at the moment, when they were most sensitive, or to deftly squeeze the firm
butt cheeks to make the topped top groan in pleasure.

Even now, on top of the old temple wall Dwight's body turned into modeling
clay in Lee's experienced hand, which was buried deep in the front of the
Marine's pants, softly kneading the throbbing shaft, which was caught in the
pouch of the jockstrap. Despite the dangerous mission, now Dwight would have
agreed to any kind of lovemaking, and Lee feeling the dampness from Dwight's
pre-cum, knew it. But both men knew that this was neither the time nor the
place to give in to their sexual desires.  The Marine grunted in
disappointed frustration when Lee pulled his hand away.

"Not now my friend, not now," Lee whispered," we have a job to do."

"I know, but one day I will top you," Dwight grinned into the dark night.

"You said so many times already," Lee's reply came in an amused tone.

The two men looked down on the temple complex. Dimly lit lanterns showed the
outline of the silent buildings below. Only at the far end close to the main
gate more lights were visible. Lee pulled at a rope and lifted their
backpack with the laser designator up to the wall deck. They would need the
equipment to electronically mark the targets for the carrier's missile
launchers.

"There we go," Lee pointed at a wooden stairway that was leading down. Their
naked soles made no audible sound when they scurried down into a quiet yard.
They had penetrated the enemy's facility.

Dwight was turning to a small alley which pointed to the main gate, but Lee
pulled him into a narrow passage between two buildings.

"Here we can go on without the risk of being noticed."

"How do you know that?" Dwight asked astonished.

"It is a temple," Lee shrugged," all temples are the same."

They walked into a wide cobble-stoned square and looked at a rectangular
shaped dark hall. A chorus of monotonous incantations sounded from the
inside.

Dwight found himself pulled towards a side entrance.

"What! How ...??" he was silenced by Lee's finger closing his lips.

"Shhh..." the Asian whispered.

Incense was lingering with a heavy odor in the air. They stayed in the
shadow of the wooden pillars and scurried across the black high-polished
tiles to the front end of the hall. Two Asians, one dressed in black and the
other one in white research outfit where standing at the front altar and
instructing a group of monks who were handling helmets that looked like
crash helmets.

Dwight froze in shock when he recognized the lean Asian dressed in the dark
robes. He knew Colonel Kim Nang Po from photos and the TV report on the
embarrassing presentation of Captain Chet Durango.

There was a row of men, whose wrists were tied behind their backs. Some of
the well-muscled hunks were standing while others were on their knees. There
were strange devices attached to their crotches and inserted in their asses.
Their hips were rocking in a bucking motion. Low animal-like grunts came
from the crash helmets that were covering the faces. Dwight recognized Seal
tattoos from the USS Vincent on the flexing biceps. The sweat glistening
bodies were writhing in the light of the many small oil lamps that flickered
above the altars.

One of the men collapsed on his heels when his knees gave way. His dick was
wrapped in a black leather sheath and kept steady by a mesh of copper wires
that was woven into the leather. Another part of the devilish device
disappeared between his thighs and was obviously impaling him. The effect
was obvious, when his hips bucked upwards in a powerful thrust. There was a
grunt of despair and then relief. A gush of his man juice sprayed from the
swollen mushroom head. Three four five squirts followed until the stud's
balls were depleted leaving him as a quivering and exhausted heap on the
tiled floor. The leather sheath slipped from the shrunken dick and the
device detached itself from his ass.

Two monks dressed in gray baggy clothes rushed to his side and removed the
helmet.

"What happened?" the hunky man asked with a sheepish almost boyish grin. The
monks petted him comfortingly and handed him a pair of skimpy black Speedos.

"What is happening here?" Dwight whispered, repeating the question of the
docile stud who was led away.

"Just watch," Lee embraced him from behind and slipped his hands under the
damp tank top.

"Wha...ughh?" Dwight's question was silenced by a soft love bite in his neck
that made his knees buckle.

"Huh ... what are you up to?" Dwight panted while Lee's sharp nails played
with his nipples, "this is madness."

"This is fun, making love in sight of the enemy," Dwight did not know that
Lee was using the same words as Chet  Durango had used a time ago in Camp
Tango before he was caught by Colonel Kim.

Lee's thumbs were digging firmly into two pressure points in Dwight's sweaty
arm pits and the American felt a numbness spreading trough his body. His
head lolled back and rested on the shoulder of Lee, who licked the exposed
throat.

"Ohhhh!" he groaned while the belt of his combat pants was unbuckled. More
and more of the Seals in front of him succumbed to the stimulations of the
strange devices and the way it happened got to him. The pants were gliding
down to the ankles, exposing his cock that started to fill the front of the
jock-strap.

Lee unbuttoned his fly and guided his already hard dick between Dwight's
buttocks. His hand dug inside the taut pouch of the jock-strap and pulled
the bonerized man meat free.

"Huh...huhh...fuck youuuuu," the big Marine groaned while his throbbing shaft
was jerked.

"Aaarghh!" an ecstatic howl of pure primal lust sounded through the hall
when Lee impaled him from behind without any warning. The monks turned
towards the corner where Lee and Dwight were hidden in the shadow.

Enthralled by his lust Dwight didn't resist, when he was virtually paraded
into the open.

"N-nnooo, w-what are you doing?" he gasped writhing in Lee's grip.

"Ah, what a pleasure! Master Huang, finally! We have been waiting for you
already -- and now you are presenting the enemy leader skewered on your
sword." Colonel Kim welcomed "Lee" with a broad grin." Most brilliant,
Master Huang, most brilliant I must say."

"What? Oh shit, no!" Both the monstrosity of the treachery and a push
between his shoulder blades forced Dwight on his knees.

Lee was in fact the mysterious Master Huang to whom Rashad the Iraqi
terrorist had referred to when calling over satellite phone after he had
caught Hank. They had intercepted this call, however, were never been able
to uncover the identity of Huang, who was considered a mastermind behind the
enemy operations.

"Urgh..no..fuck ahhh," the Sergeant howled in mixed lust and fury, while the
varmint who had set him up so terribly was thrusting into him. Now he knew
why the enemy was always so well informed about their plans. Dwight realized
that they never had a real chance. He had been played like a child and now
he was about to be humiliated even further by being fucked silly in front of
his enemies. It hadn't helped to send a gay squad. He was going down like
all the straight fighters before. Desperately he tried to crawl away from
his tormentor.

Lee/Master Huang seized the back of the hunched Marine's tank top and pulled
the reluctant bucking young man back, impaling him deep onto his Asian cock.
Knowing how Dwight would be turned on by some kinky domination, he spanked
the melon-shaped butt cheeks with a series of rhythmical slaps. The spanking
did not hurt, but the degradation of being treated like a dumb bronco that
needed to be tamed triggered a new flush of arousal.

"Shit! Huh ... huh ... huh ...," Dwight hollered while Lee/Master Huang was riding
him towards climax.

"The stallion likes it," Kim laughed," his juices will be a most valuable
addition to your research, Takashima."

"I can not wait to extract his seed," the Japanese scientist looked
mesmerized at the humiliating spectacle.

`No, no, no' Dwight's mind rebelled, while wave after wave of arousal
quelled his resistance and kept him mellow. Being gay and having been fucked
before gave him an advantage over the straight Marines who were overwhelmed
by the humiliation being sexually conquered by another man. `Oh yes, fucker
just make me shoot my fuckin' load, but then I crush your treacherous skull
so fast that nobody will come to your rescue fast enough... I'll get `ya,
bastard, you pay for that betrayal, ` Dwight thought, while he groaned in
lustful agony.

Huang knew the American's body well enough to tell that the big Marine was
ready to cum. He reached under Dwight's belly and closed his fist around the
dangling cock. Expertly he used the oozing pre-cum to lubricate his palm and
started to jack the shaft. Simultaneously humping and milking the Sergeant,
he nodded to the waiting monks.

Dwight's slumped head was pulled up and one of the strange helmets was
forced over it. His howls and groans were muffled. The helmet was displaying
a 3D image of an old monk and a monotonous voice from built-in earphones
filled his mind. The Marine didn't really understand the meaning of the
words that were brainwashing him, but he realized that the imminent cum shot
would make his mind so susceptible to mind control that this conquest would
not just be a sexual one but even a mental one. This awareness, however, was
his last free thought. The hand that was milking him mercilessly squeezed
his balls and when Huang came inside of his ass he was swept away as well
into a climax as he had never experienced before.

"Aaaoorghhh," Huang was almost thrown off the big body which was rearing up
in a powerful convulsion. The hunky Marine's cum splashed audibly on the
tiled floor, again and again until both the gushes and the resistance
subsided. The broad shoulders were twitching for a few times when the mind
fuck kicked in, reducing the man who was once Sergeant Dwight Collins to the
boy child Dwight, who knew nothing about the USMC and who was oblivious to
sexual desire.

"A fine conquest, Master Huang," Dr. Takashima congratulated the Asian, who
closed his fly hardly accelerating his breathing despite his climax. He
looked after the Marine who had trusted him and who was led away, clad in a
black skimpy Speedo that could hardly contain the sexy bubble butt. May be
he would use the muscular stud for some pleasurable nights during the time
to come. He was not a bad fuck after all. Now, however, there were other
things to be attended to.

"Did you find the others?" he looked at Kim.

"Two of them," Kim said," the two pilots and the third one are still
missing. They won't get far."

"Find them Colonel," Huang said," find them fast. We cannot tolerate any
interference here at the base."

"Consider it done, Master Huang," Kim bowed shortly and turned to leave.

"Takashima, can we secure their ship?"

"Yes Master Huang," the Japanese replied," I have prepared sufficient of the
agent from the semen milked from our first batch of `guests'. "


                                                                  * * *

"I don't accept that!" the Commodore was roaring, his face turned crimson.
"Get the system up and melt that fucking temple down, now!"

"Sir, we ... we are cut of from the command center," the carrier's system
administrator winced, knowing that he would feel the Commodore's wrath.

"This is the Command Center, you useless prick!" Mulroney exploded. "This is
where I am and where I am is Command Center. I am ordering you to attack
this temple. Now!"

"Yes Sir, attack the temple, yes Sir," the system administrator repeated
mechanically, "but how...? Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

The Commodore was staring at him like a snake at a cornered rabbit. "Go
ahead," he grunted.

"Thank you Sir. Sir, with all due respect, but ...but," the man stammered.

"But...but, what? Did you piss in your pants, boy?" Mulroney sneered.

"Our Command Center is actually the data center, Sir," the system
administrator finally managed to say," and we are no longer in control."

"This is one of the most powerful ships the US Navy has ever built,
"Mulroney was glowering at him. He was talking in a dangerously low voice.
"You are not going to tell me we are controlled by a damned gook temple! We
are..."

He was cut of when a powerful thrust pushed him of balance, throwing him to
the floor. Havoc broke loose on the bridge when the men struggled to get
back on their feet. The rudderless drifting carrier had grounded itself in
the shallow waters.

The light of the early dawn revealed a fleet of fishing boats and rafts
approaching. The nearby shore was crawling with hundreds of men dressed in
the uniforms of the "Red Guards".

"Ha! They cannot be serious!" the Commodore said with a grim smile," the
flight deck is 210 feet above sea level. They can sail with their ramshackle
fleet around us in circles until the end of time. They never make it up the
deck."

"Sir, I think we have a problem here," one technician pointed at the screen
of the only working terminal on the bridge.

"Oh do we have a problem?" Mulroney sneered," only one problem, that is the
best news I heard so far. What is it son?"

"Sir, uhm the enemy is entering the lower decks by the bulkheads that we are
using to deploy the Seals."

"How did they ...?" Mulroney's face went white.

"They control the ship from the outside," the system administrator
whispered, confirming what the Commodore had realized.

"Boarded!' Mulroney howled in uncontrolled rage, "Boarded by the enemy!" The
shame was unbearable. Helpless, cut off from his crew and trapped in the
confinement of his bridge the Commodore was doomed to sit passive until the
enemy would knock at the door and demand surrender. Speechless he sank down
in his leather-covered command seat.

Zander DeMarco was a rugged stud with a handsome face. The olive skin
indicated his Italian origin and so would have the black curly hair if
hadn't shaved is skull bald. The girl magnet was a member of the USS Vincent
Mancroft's marine unit. Together with some other marines and a number of
sailors he had found himself trapped in a watertight compartment on the
Y-deck when the carrier systems had shut down the powerful ship. First they
had tried to open the partition manually, then they had found some
firefighter axes and tried to break free. All had been in vain. Finally the
dim light from some lighters had gone out and they were shrouded in
darkness. Without air-condition the temperature was quickly rising. The air
was thick with sweat and soon everybody including the female crew members
had stripped down to their underwear.

The Marine dressed only in his boots and boxers was sitting on the floor
leaning against the steel wall. A young nurse whom he knew was working in
the medical section was sitting between his spread thighs, leaning into him.
Zander was hugging the hot sweaty body inhaling the sweet female scent.

"What are you doing?" the girl whispered when his strong hands massaged her
boobs.

"Mm...what do you think I ammm... doing?" Zander was covering her neck with
soft kisses.

"We'll get caught," she cooed indulging in his caresses.

"Mmh... it is dark. No one will see....," Zander tugged her panties down to her
thighs.

"You are mad," she giggled but reached back and pulled his stiffening cock
from his boxers.

"Uhmm... I am a man," he groaned.

"I can feel that," she chuckled feeling the moisture from his thick dick
head in her palm.

"Ah, you will feel it much better," the Marine spread his thighs and lifted
her on his erect cock.

"Ohh..yesss..." she moaned while she felt his hot solid man meat sliding into
her.

His hands cupped her breasts, playing with the sensitive tits. He didn't say
a word. She felt his hot breath inches away from her ear. His fingers found
her clit and slowly he started rotating the tip of his middle-finger.

"Oh ...ffffff," she inhaled sharply. The girl was now squatting and started
slowly to rock her pelvis up and down. His dick was gliding in and out
slippery from both her cunt juice and his pre-cum.

"Fuck that feels good," he groaned as he was pumped in the darkness. His
chest was heaving and she smelled his musky male sex-sweat. Zander stemmed
his big body against the wall and secured his booted feet to have a stable
position. Then he responded to her movements by thrusting his hips up and
down.

Suddenly there was a scratching sound at the outside of the bulkhead and
then the heavy metal partition opened with a grinding sound. The Americans
were blinking into the glaring beams of some flash lights.

"Fuck! Gooks!" came the alarming shouts from those who were sitting closer
to the opened door. Zander tried to push himself up and watched the crew
members rising in haste, but the girl was to much enthralled in her lust and
kept him trapped under her.

Commands in a foreign language were shouted while those equipped with the
axes struggled to get to the door in order to offer some desperate
resistance.

The officer commanding the Red Guard unit who had entered the big ship was
staring in reddish sweaty faces who were looking confused, trying to
comprehend what was going on. The monk who was at his side fetched a small
glass container from the pocket of his robes and threw it inside the
compartment. The glass shattered on the steel floor. In the dim light nobody
saw the tiny cloud that evaporated from the broken flask.

The Korean officer watched the Americans getting up and some came forward
pushing through the crowd armed with axes. He barked a command and his men
were raising their guns pointing them at the crowd.
The ones on the front became aware of the danger and the futility to resist,
but the ones in the back were still pushing.

"Wait!" the monk said," we need those people, they are of value."

The officer looked doubtful at the semi-naked, sweaty crowd and wondered
what kind of value that might be. Then gargling and retching sounds mixed
with the shouts of alarm that came from the trapped crew. More and more men
and women were collapsing, reaching for their throats, with obvious
difficulties to breath.

Zander watched in horror as the strange phenomena was reaching out across
the compartment. The nurse on slumped on top of him and then his vision
blurred. "No!" He wanted to cry but only a retching caw came from his mouth.
He was struggling to breathe. The young Marine was writhing on the ground.
His cock slipped from the slack pussy of the passed out nurse and he
realized with his fading consciousness that the approaching Asians were not
affected at all. What...?

Somehow the girl was gone. Then his breathing became suddenly easier and the
panic of suffocation was gone. Gone was as well his strength. It felt as if
all his energy had been sapped from his body. His arms and legs were numb.
The muscles of his defined body felt like jelly. Zander's legs were raised
and the boots taken off. Ignoring his feeble moans of protest somebody
stripped him from his boxer shorts. A grinning Asian soldier was holding a
skimpy black Speedo in front of his face. Like a helpless child the hunky
Marine was dressed in the tiny fabric. The dog tags were ripped from his
chest and as he was too weak to walk, two Asian soldiers took his arms over
their shoulders and carried and dragged him outside. Together with the other
crew members the dizzy Marine was loaded into the waiting boats.

The monk pointed to the next bulkhead. "Open it!" In his hand appeared
another flask.

The bulkhead sealing the bridge was one of the last that went open. A man
dressed in scarlet monk robes entered. He was sinewy and in his early
twenties. A thin smile showed in the corners of his mouth.

"Lee!" the Commodore shot up from his chair in surprise.

"No Commodore, I think it is time for me to properly introduce myself. My
name is Huang, Master Huang for you to call me and I am now commanding this
vessel that you have delivered so generously to us. We are truly indebted, "
the Asian sneered and walked to the center of the bridge.

Two monks dressed in grey robes entered followed by "Red Guard" soldiers who
pointed their guns at the crew.

Mulroney looked down on Lee/Huang who was looking back with a provocative,
derisive grin. From the depths of his robes the Asian produced a pair of
tiny black bikini trunks.

"Why don't you get comfortable, Mr. Mulroney, now that you are obviously out
of the job?"

"You!" Mulroney lost control when he realized what was going on. His huge
hands closed like vises around Huang's neck. But before he could fasten his
murderous grip, his wrists were seized by the Asian with an amazing
strength. The Commodore was still wondering how such a small man could be so
strong, when he landed on his back crashing on the chart desk. Officers who
wanted to come to their Commodore's help were stopped by the soldiers
raising their guns.

"That was a most foolish move," Huang said calmly and dragged the American
from the table. Mulroney looked in surprise at the Korean who beckoned him
to charge again.

"You fuckin' bastard!" Mulroney was extraordinarily fit for a man in his
late forties and he rammed into Huang with the force and the fury of a
raging rhinoceros. He was absorbed and engulfed by a swirling scarlet
whirlwind. Hits and chops hammered into him from all directions. He was
smashed several times face onward into the wall and then pulled back to the
center of the room, swaying disoriented. His shirt was hanging in shreds
from his broad shoulders.

"It's over," came Huang's voice from behind.

Slowly, as every bone in his body was hurting, the Commodore turned around.
The Asian was holding the Speedo towards him demandingly.

Mulroney stripped, what was left of his shirt, from his shoulders. His lips
were shut tightly while he unbuttoned his trousers. There was a painful
silence on the bridge as everybody was watching the Commodore changing into
the Speedo.

Mulroney's 6.1 ft. , 230 lbs. body was revealed in all its glory. Natural
hair covered the pale skin, except for the low-hanging impressive set of
balls and the still firm buttocks which were clean shaven. The chiseled pecs
were covered by a light, ice grey fur. A navy tattoo was inked into the
nicely defined biceps of the right arm.

The big, veiny, thick, cut cock rose from a nest of dark pubic hair and
dangled between the sinewy thighs until Mulroney stepped into the Speedo and
wrapped his genitals into the skimpy black fabric.
Mustering his remaining dignity the Commodore folded his clothes neatly with
the precision he had learned when he had been a recruit and just entered the
Navy. Nobody said a word when he carried the pile of clothes to the command
desk, putting it down next to the brass name tag showing his name and rank
"Rear Admiral Laurence Mulroney".

In a flashing motion his hand shot into the top drawer of the desk and an
instant later Huang was looking into the muzzle of a heavy hand gun.

The guns of the soldiers moved around aiming at the Commodore.

"That would be most foolish, Mister Huang," he said with an icy voice," you
should explain to your men that my bullet would tear your head apart before
they can even pull the trigger."

"And you would really do that, knowing that you would die shortly after me?"
the Korean asked.

"Try me, gook!" Mulroney grunted through a clenched jaw.

(... to be continued)