WhiskeyTango

I didnt fucking ask you.

Lol Check mate, JennyDX. You've clearly mastered this better than me.

I'm deactivating my account @JennyDK But before I do. I'm going to get pleasure from this. YOURE A CUNT. A GIANT DUTCH CUNT!

https://youtu.be/s1FoHnGYeBw

Eh, considering I've been guilty of that, of course not lol I'll set her up.

With Shotatrap lol Btw I'm good to start our thing. You good to go?

This is the same issue I've had. Lol

That's never happened to me before, I swear.

Look, if you visit France, that doesn't make you French.

https://youtu.be/KwXmZtqDR1I

"Ok, Kiara." Colton sighed as he followed the girl past the jungle. The slithering tentacles whisked at the pilot as he grabbed his pistol. "I've seen bugs the size of house cats in Nicaragua, but nothing like-" Colton stopped as he looked at paradise on a beach. He fell to his knees. The looking glass device, next to him. "Holy shit...this ain't Daytona. It's not even the keys. He pulled himself up, grabbing the girl shocked. "Where the hell am I?" Colton looked in the girls beautiful eyes. "I guess I don't really care. But.. I have to...radio in. This place has a pay phone, right?"

Kara's grip was rather assuring. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. So he was definitely willing. He kept the snap over his pistol unbuttoned. He followed the girl a ways away, through the jungle. "I take it you're a "Dorothy" like me too, huh?" Colton shook his head. "Nevermind. I hope this resort off of the Florida coast. For a lot of reasons."

Colton looked around suspiciously as he grabbed the girls arm and pulled it away. "Stop that. I know you're leading me some where. But damn it, I need to know I'm not being led some where that's going to involve me in a giant soup bowl, surrounded by a bunch of pygmy island villagers dancing to my death!" Colton yelled. He sighed as he let go of her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm not at home right now. In Rachel...with Elizabeth." Colton puts his left hand up to Klara. "You...do you run this place? Are there more like you? Or...just you?" Colton forcefully ran his tough dry hand through her hair. If anything, just to make sure everything was real."

Colton nodded with a smirk. "Great. So..." Colton climbed up to the girl, nudging his shirt collar. "Klara Dore...that wasn't just a bad fake sneeze right? I don't care either way. I need a way to civilization. How about you lead, sweet heart?"

Colton looked at the obviously pretty girl, a bit hapless. "No. They don't kill beasts." The man walked over to a large rock by a stream as he holstered his weapon. He rubbed his neck a little and looked at the girl curiously. "You know English rather well. I won't even bother asking. But I'm Colton. These beasts. I think I heard a few slithering around here. Man they make Dulce look like just another hang out area." Colton hangs his hand out to the girl, to shake it.

Colton leaped back. He understood her language completely. "What the fu.." He stopped himself rather quickly. He pulled his pistol out rather quickly. "How do I...listen Miss...I'm clearly in the California area. How do I get to a pay phone? Eh? Come on. I'm on vital scientific mission for eh...NASA."

Colton tore the bushes around him as he lugged the black transport device along with him. The thick muggy air exhausted him. He looked around. After hearing a sound. Colton dropped the device as it rolled down the mud, a couple of feet away. He had his beretta gun out, looking around. Colton soaked his forehead with his left arm as he lowered his pistol. "Woe is what? Who the hell is there?!" Colton yelled out. He thought quickly and he kept his arms, squarely up. "I'm a friendly. Do you know my language?" Colton backed to a tree. He belted out "Es esto Nicaragua?!" He looked around as sweat beat off his forehead. "Sorry....had to try...who's there?!"

The trees were vibrating with life in Colton's helmet. His parachute covered over him. His body struggled as he began to pull his ventilation tubes and helmet off. What was left of the air in it squeaked out, as Colton pulled it off and breathed heavily. He coughed and spit out hours of gunk from the stale ventilator air. He was barely able to open his dry mouth. The pilot struggled around his suit, grabbing a canteen from his flight suit. It was warm from the humidity, but he chugged it anyways. The nasty still water taste didn't matter to him. After chugging the water he poured the water over his dark slick, brown hair. Colton sat up, struggling with his parachute. His mouth became more moist as he took in deep breaths in the thick jungle air. "Fuck...frrrr...come on!" Colton mumbled as he tore the parachute off and undid his flight suit to mid waist. Colton rubbed his face as he began to figure out his surroundings. His hands crawled down from his eye's as he looked around. There was fear, but also general alertness. After all, this is what you signed up for, cowboy, the downed pilot thought. Colton moved around his flight suit, his baretta M9, still strapped to his side. Colton sat up on a dirty fallen tree trunk after, grabbing his radio to his side. The pilot turned the knob on, getting zero frequency. Colton decided to yell into it anyways. "DREAM LAND, THIS IS BEAUTY THREE, COME IN?!" Colton looked around and then to the ground. A small black cubic box, a metal bar surrounded the box, foam coating the the bar, for protection. The back of it looked as if it had been pulled off of the missing plane, although rather aggressively. Three switches existed on it. A red light blinked at the top. Colton pulled himself up. "DREAM LAND! MATTHEWS, COLTON, 3635143, MAJESTIC CLEARANCE 11! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY MESSAGE!" Colton gave up. He scoffed a little as he tossed the radio on the ground. He was just glad the small black device still worked, even if it used up it's fuel source. To say the least, he was up that poop river, with barely any arms. Colton looked around as he drank some more water. He put his canteen back into his suit as he gathered his things. Colton tore through the thick forests, leaving his helmet and parachute behind. He pulled out a small tape recorder and began speaking. "Commanders log, Matthews, Colton. Department of Naval intelligence, Majestic clearance 11. Test 4 of...Project Looking Glass was ...to say...successful. For better or for worse. The date is July 16th 1990. At least I think it is...I left Groom Lake, Nellis Range aka Dream Land, less than.." Colton looked at his watch. The time had stopped. He considered everything to be in limbo, but continued recording. "From where I was before, I flew out of Dream Land...to...the fog...I was flying in a TRB2 Aurora Concept. From the time I was from Dreamland...I should have been... maybe over Silver Springs." Colton sighed heavily as he began to remember more. "The time from the air strip to the fog was less than 7 minutes at the most. The looking glass device was activated....And all I remember was the Aurora getting hot. Hot even for her. I emergency ejected. Expecting to land in a diner lot at Silver Springs...or the Groom Lake bus terminal at Alamo, I landed here. Something like...Panama...but hotter than Panama. But so far...no Noriega guerillas, that I've seen yet." Colton couldn't help but joke. "From the lack of hydration, I must've been knocked out cold, for at least two days. Here.." Colton heard slithering through the woods. Sounds of tentacle legs, almost. He pulled out his pistol, cocking it. Colton took a deep breath and lifted the recorder one last time to his mouth. "I am currently on the run, in a strange land. My first priority is preserving the Looking Glass device." Colton was somewhat terrified. But he smirked a little, thinking of home. "But, my secondary priority is making it back home, out of here. Even if it means being court marshalled for destroying a multi billion dollar prototype. Elizabeth, keep the cassettes rolling and the beer cold." He clicked off the recorder, sliding it in his side pants pocket. Colton stood at around 33. He had short black hair, a rather strong and athletic frame. He wasn't directly imposing, as he wouldn't want to be. Colton began tracking deep into the woods, his gray t shirt drenched above his chest. "Toto...where the fuck's Kansas?"