Niqui Merret brushed the creepers aside and pushed further into the dense code.
She was the point man for Bugfixers XXIV Flash Corps and had been leading the line since God knows when. She knew well that in the jungle of other people's ActionScript the canopy is so thick that the light only filters through in pale shafts. She took a step forward, the muddy nook sloshed against her thighs. Forgotten slicks of AS2 napalm drifted across the surface, burning fresh sores into old wounds. Malarial clouds of timeline Cong Moui swarmed and bit.
Flash bugs - Gooks, Vietcong, whatever you wanted to call them - she could smell them coming. She showed a flat palm to the slack man behind and the whole line came silently to a halt. She'd been through so many old FLA's and undocumented hacky AS Classes, that everyone knew they could trust her implicitly. She knew the Gooks like they were family and nothing was going FUBAR on her watch.
"Gook code" she whispered "bites you motherfucking rookies in the ass. But not me, I prioritize, and know enemy code bases inside out. You better listen to me if unless you plan on flying home in a body bag. DO NOT hunt Gooks in circles and make sure you document your goddam area for the marines following you up, you understand me newbie? Stick with me and I'll show you how it's done."
A band of Vietcong burst out on the starboard side. "Strike those down" screamed Merret, and turned her Tommy on the Bugs. "Anyone who makes it out alive meet me back at the Werks in Hove, Tuesday 25th August 7pm for debriefing."
"Now fight you bastards!"
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