“Jameson, I forgot about the Weapons of Mass Destruction.” The Grey fauxhawked, stubbled man of thirty, wearing a poncho and jeans, had been haunted by the news. He thought Doctor Rivrezed would have gotten it out of the storage container on Route 66. “Doc, did anyone grab the fucking weapons?” “No, no one at this time had grabbed the weapons Teddy,” enraged, Teddy transferred the call to his phone, went to his hacked Tesla model Y, plugged in the coordinates to the storage unit, and verbally crucified Rivrezed without warning.
Teddy did not care that the doc had an atrocious night due to rowdy teen in the building, he only cared that the North Korean Kosovan spy group “Kumbustadik” could have taken the doomsday bombs filled with plutonium, uranium human shit, and whale piss that could fill both the Atlantic and Pacific. Time was running out, and traffic had held him for 4 minutes.
Teddy grabbed his glock, stepped out of the car, and shot and killed a terrorist driver. The truck was blocking the road, preventing him from getting to the container, despite that side of the road having insane traffic. Teddy walked up to the dead carcass, opened the door, and threw the man on the street. “I have to do this, for my nation.” This swirled in his head as he stole the truck, and drove it to the warehouse.
His face was red from the thought of The UK Government taking American Destruction weapons to attack American kids ever since the alliance had broken off, and the UK allied with NK and Kosovo. General Cornwall had told the Prime Minister over the pond 3 years ago that the United States wanted to take over the Kingdom. The US had no desire to take over the United Kingdom, but the lie was so strong that all Americans were banned, and we were at war with each other.
Teddy arrived at the security gate. “Name,” said the guardsman, “Teddy Trovo,” he replied, secretly oozing sweat. The guard let him in, but went back to the station to check the cams. Teddy got out of his car as the sky was dark, and all around him were storage units coated in dark grey with metallic doors. “So, Mr Trovo. How are you this fine evening,” a soul patched voice said. The man was chewing on sugar cane, and had closed his cell phone. The man’s phone was not an iphone, but a ruby red motorola flip phone like you would see in the aughties.
The man grabbed what looked to be a small handgun, one that could fit entirely in the palm of your hand. “You know, life is kind of funny,” “I guess it is,” answered Teddy, as he dropped his left leg. The man shot, but Teddy jumped at the second he saw the man’s finger pull back. Teddy then pulled out his 1911, and shot the man. The man lied in his chest's blood. “Who are you,” questioned Teddy. The question went nowhere as the man decided to die without telling Teddy.
As Teddy opened the storage unit, he saw the WMD’s gone. “Doc,” he called on his phone, “Are you there.” He decided to actually look at his phone for once, but only saw a strawman dressed like the Doctor. Something felt off. Only two other people were there and one lay in a pool of his own blood.