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“Why not just post it here?”

I find this to be a polite question.

The pimp went crazy. Angel-Dust crazy. I hate pimps on Angel-Dust.

The pimp then unleashed his trap, a strike force of undercover pimps
who had been laying low and biding their time. Sneaky pukes.
Half of them were probably on Angel-Dust too. The rest might have been
drunk, it happened too fast to take stock of all of them. They were a threat
and that’s all that registered.

Like I said, I hadn’t had any coffee yet.

The pimp?
He sprung his trap and called in his team. They were ready.
Apparently he pinged them all, because suddenly I was surrounded
by at least eighteen rabid pimps with death in their eyes.

I saw them converge on the thread...

This was no time for heroics, I could wind up dead and fragged.
Being fragged by pimps who then dance about on my corpse is
something I hope to put off for a while. Today for sure.

I pinged the team, both on-duty an off.
This was serious, this was no isolated pimping effort.
Pimps who had previously been un-related were now acting in concert.
This was Pimpageddon. Never had I imagined such a pimp uprising.

And the wily pukes had to wake me up for it.

Quickly reviewing, I confirmed that I’d fulfilled all the steps lined out
in the FM2994 and the standing orders pursuant to my watch.

Protocol time was over. It was time to lock and load and light up these pukes.

As I pulled the Plasma Rifle’s strap over my shoulder, I saw two of our
operatives respond. Solid troops, up and ready at a moments notice.
Even half a continent away. Damn I love this Corps.

I linked my TACH with theirs and acknowledged contact.
Another operative linked in. That made four of us.

Four against eighteen.. maybe twenty. But they were pimps and pimps
are flawed and weak. Whatever, we are the Corps and it’s our job to
deal with this. So we did.