VOLSPAC / VCB

The tale of VCB begins in a remote subtropical country where following a long tradition, Sgt Jonny J. Johnson went to find another excruciating way to hurt himself like all the VCB Sgts before him and after him. There deep in the jungle he found his old mate Steve who was making a new life for himself, fixing and making things in a small tribal community living in a mud-hut village. Jonny told him his internet fleet needed him, that there were internet commies left un-bayoneted, that the new blood were clean shaven and a good tache hadn’t been seen in years. Steve told him he was done killing, he was now a man of peace and that his hands only created and no longer destroyed. He’d grown a full facial beard and married a mail order Thai ladyboy. He honestly thought Steve, at least the Steve he knew, was dead.

As Jonny was sat aboard the Lynx waiting for the pilot to finish his pre-flight checks, over the Horizon a blinding light caught his eye. He squinted hard to see what it was, he saw the tache before he saw the man, running with a GPMG over one shoulder and belts of link draped over his body, it was the legend… Steve. He almost reached the chopper when he suddenly stopped, by this time the engines were running full throttle and the pilot about to take off. Over the din of the engine he heard “Hoiiii Steeeve, downt weave me now!”, behind him ran his ladyboy wife in a small silk nightgown, as it ran the lower part was moving with the wind exposing its engorged love-pole “What abou your famawiy?!”. Steve was frozen solid to the spot still facing Jonny, his eye twitched and then twitched again, in his eyes he saw a raging battle being fought for his very soul, slowly he turned around, Jonny’s heart winced… he was loosing him.

He shouted “STEVE! A BELGIAN IS NOW LEADING YOUR BOYS!” and it snapped, he pulled the GPMG from his shoulder and tucked the stock into his waist. The lady-thing faltered for a moment as the barrel of the General was trained on it, its eyes turned into that of a puppy being taken away from its mother for the first time. “Steve, Don’t ru ruv me?”. His answer came as a killing burst of 25 rounds teared the thing in half from lady-cock to head, one of the incendiary tracers must have reacted with the hormones it was taking every morning because then the thing exploded leaving nothing but a pair of cheap high-heels and slabs of still steaming raw meat.

Steve shouldered the General once more and walked to the helicopter, as Jonny looked into his eyes he thought he regretted what he had done, maybe he was loosing him once more. He turned and said “Jonny, can we make a detour over the village? I’ve still got 400 rounds left”. Jonny grinned and took his hand in a warriors grasp, their eyes fixed together, “Steve… that’s a hoofing idea you ginger cunt”.

And so began VCB as we know it.