Strike Force Zulu - Chapter 9: 22:45 March 31st

The pounding pulse of the music, honestly… well it wasn’t that loud thought Second Leftenant Dafydd Hughes. “Alright lads… another round on me as an apology. Then we’ll gather up and either go up to Denver, or down to Colorado Springs to find the good looking birds.”

All of the other members of the Special Air Services squad here across the pond on holiday cheered loudly. “Nau sah, it might be semin’ that th’ lads be thirsty. But it isn’t naught but a farce sah. They all be laffin n giggling like schoolgurls now, but tis yer heart’s that’s been broken… Tis not yer fault the wonky lass, the skirt ya chased for over four thousand miles turned out to be married.” the slightly drunk Warrant Officer Class One slurred in his Scots brogue. “Now, the fact that ye promised that she had friends for all of the rest of us…”

“I know, I know. But at least there is still snow in mountains and we can experience some Colonial powder. That, and I have heard tales around campfires of Colorado Ski Bunnies… perhaps we should kit up and head west instead of one of the fleshier establishments I was thinking you coarse and unrefined lads would enjoy.” Hughes laughingly told WOC1 Glenhardy making sure he was loud enough to be heard by the other squad members.

A round of fresh curses echoed throughout the establishment as the Brits piled atop their commander and pulled him from the bar and out into the parking lot. Looking around for a cab, they eventually gave up and went back inside the lackluster bar located at an outlet mall of all things…

Yes its short… Sorry… getting closer to the real action my dear readers… apologies.