The Aventador V2 opening
Okay, so I got really excited and have to type it down. Nyerk.
If you encounter some weird typos around, it's most likely because I wrote this digitally into notepad.
The Aventador, the people at large believe, is a moving shadow sent down by God to punish those men cannot punish. The fanatics, on the other hand, think there's some conspiracy going on within the government. The idea of some black ops is always thrilling to the mind, but for the mind of the people as backward as those living in the Philippines? It's not even necessary. A president put them into effect and that's it. Nobody else but those involved has to know. They don't get the media attention like the other branches of law enforcements get, because that's the last thing they need, and the general people don't have to know they actually have an existing black ops group. The Filipinos by nature are easily impressed. It's no wonder a lot of issues get easily swept under the rug. The bigger you are, the higher your chances of getting monat you want.
That's what Tengco had in mind when he offered the president his own support group. He's an important person, considerably wealthy by international standards (don't the Filipinos love it when you sarp acted the local standard, Like they're ashamed of themselves). And he's smart, Really, very smart. It's why he's confident whe he frankly told the president he has the better security team, and he's quite mahned to prove it, Why not the president borrow them for a day and see sit for himself? Where he even got that idea, Claudine doesn't Know, but whatever that is, it owes her a very big pay.
#
Michael is, technically, part of the black ops in the most literal sense. He supplies their ammos, build them cool cars you only see in movies, helps strategize their mission plans; sometimes he even makes the team some mean latte or dinner. A lot of the guys (and girls) consider him as part of the team, but officially? He's not. It is, in fact, the least he hopes for. The president can try and bribe all he wants but Michael will never accept the offer. It is a dirty, dirty job where nothing reaches the light of the day and the red paints his hands so dark he can never wash it off. They're not like the MI6 or the CIA who get the appropriate amount of stagelight and thus the reasonable sort of work. Heck, the people of the nation aren't even aware they exist, and as far as awareness goes, they really don't know. Who does? The president. Just him.
So when the president suddenly calls him one night, asking him to play handler to a bunch of guys of God knows who, MIchael considers actually leaving the country. There is only so little cracks in the country you can hide in before someone finds you. He's no member of th eblack ops, that's for certain; he's just the guy who sponsors the team because his mother used to be one of them. He's just paying back a dept she owes them. And Michael realizes that it's precisely because he's not part of the team that's why the president is asking such a favor from him. Almost made him wish he had accepted the offer just so he doesn't have to be involved in this.
"You don't seem to understand the situation, Michael."
"Au contraire, Mr. President," Michael says dryly. "I don't want to get involved, so stop shoving me into this, please. I can understand if you want me to play bait, I'm always willing to lend a limb for the team-" and he has the feeling he'll regret saying that in the future, "-but I don't even know these guys. What are the chances these guys are terrorists in covert, out to kill you?"
"Which is why I want you to handle them. You'll be our liason to them." No arguments, he could almost hear the president add. Damn sneaky bastard.
"I'm so not voting for you next term."
"That won't be necessary. I'm counting on you."
The line ends with Michael looking at his phone's screen disdainfully. There goes his day.
If you encounter some weird typos around, it's most likely because I wrote this digitally into notepad.
The Aventador, the people at large believe, is a moving shadow sent down by God to punish those men cannot punish. The fanatics, on the other hand, think there's some conspiracy going on within the government. The idea of some black ops is always thrilling to the mind, but for the mind of the people as backward as those living in the Philippines? It's not even necessary. A president put them into effect and that's it. Nobody else but those involved has to know. They don't get the media attention like the other branches of law enforcements get, because that's the last thing they need, and the general people don't have to know they actually have an existing black ops group. The Filipinos by nature are easily impressed. It's no wonder a lot of issues get easily swept under the rug. The bigger you are, the higher your chances of getting monat you want.
That's what Tengco had in mind when he offered the president his own support group. He's an important person, considerably wealthy by international standards (don't the Filipinos love it when you sarp acted the local standard, Like they're ashamed of themselves). And he's smart, Really, very smart. It's why he's confident whe he frankly told the president he has the better security team, and he's quite mahned to prove it, Why not the president borrow them for a day and see sit for himself? Where he even got that idea, Claudine doesn't Know, but whatever that is, it owes her a very big pay.
#
Michael is, technically, part of the black ops in the most literal sense. He supplies their ammos, build them cool cars you only see in movies, helps strategize their mission plans; sometimes he even makes the team some mean latte or dinner. A lot of the guys (and girls) consider him as part of the team, but officially? He's not. It is, in fact, the least he hopes for. The president can try and bribe all he wants but Michael will never accept the offer. It is a dirty, dirty job where nothing reaches the light of the day and the red paints his hands so dark he can never wash it off. They're not like the MI6 or the CIA who get the appropriate amount of stagelight and thus the reasonable sort of work. Heck, the people of the nation aren't even aware they exist, and as far as awareness goes, they really don't know. Who does? The president. Just him.
So when the president suddenly calls him one night, asking him to play handler to a bunch of guys of God knows who, MIchael considers actually leaving the country. There is only so little cracks in the country you can hide in before someone finds you. He's no member of th eblack ops, that's for certain; he's just the guy who sponsors the team because his mother used to be one of them. He's just paying back a dept she owes them. And Michael realizes that it's precisely because he's not part of the team that's why the president is asking such a favor from him. Almost made him wish he had accepted the offer just so he doesn't have to be involved in this.
"You don't seem to understand the situation, Michael."
"Au contraire, Mr. President," Michael says dryly. "I don't want to get involved, so stop shoving me into this, please. I can understand if you want me to play bait, I'm always willing to lend a limb for the team-" and he has the feeling he'll regret saying that in the future, "-but I don't even know these guys. What are the chances these guys are terrorists in covert, out to kill you?"
"Which is why I want you to handle them. You'll be our liason to them." No arguments, he could almost hear the president add. Damn sneaky bastard.
"I'm so not voting for you next term."
"That won't be necessary. I'm counting on you."
The line ends with Michael looking at his phone's screen disdainfully. There goes his day.