Small Army

On a dark night. A man in a brown suit closes his umbrella as the rain dies down. A Hobo on the concrete staircase to the factory's entrance looks up and smiles.

"Good Evening Colonel Eltwood!"

"Jesus Jack. It's CEO now. C'mon, head inside. We got some leftover food from dinner."

"Ahahahaha, this is why I came here. You know? You should just open a Canteen for the homeless at this point."

"I would if I had expertise in Hospitality. Now, wipe your shoes at the door mat."

"Sir Yes Sir!"

"And we aren't soldiers anymore, remember? No point in delving into the past. C'mon, we have coffee and some cake. It was Lieutenant Greene's Birthday, you know?"

"I'm sure his wife and kids are with him at home."

"Yea."

They both enter an old 80s Factory inside a dense city. The road was wet from some rain showers and the exhaust of an idled car on the opposite side of the road was letting off steam from its exhaust due how cold it was. Inside, they met with a desk and a Security Guard who was obviously busy playing a game on his Desktop.

"Hey dimwit. Get the Toaster running."

"Oh shit! Sir!... and is that you Jack? Specialist Jack?"

"Hey Arnold. Long time."

"Jesus, what the hell happened to you?!"

"Business didn't fly, I've been homeless for a few months now."

"Dang, well. Follow me. We got some leftover food. And heck, why not sign an application form? We need more workers here, you know."

"Yea, thanks Arnold. I can see you making good use of your experience guarding HESCO barriers back at the FoB."

"Hahahahah, oh yes I am. But this time, rather than seeing Talis lurk around the perimeter. It's me and Warzone."

The security guard with his light blue work shirt puts his right arm over the dirty man. Shaking him as he smiles, meeting a familiar face. "How long have you been stalking around here huh? Special Ops my ass." and the two enter a Resting Area for the security staff on the East wing.

Eltwood waves at the two as he heads up the stairs. Smiling and giggling. On the second floor, a man in a fireproof jacket and reflectorized pants in work boots approaches him.

"Hey John, production is up the roof. Your idea is popping! I heard that even the big corporations are looking into teaming with us."

"Really? Hey, we can finally hire more Vets. This is amazing! I'll head up to my office immediately then."

"Yea, talk to Dave. He told me the good news."

"Ahahahaha, alright. Keep working with the others. Pump those Plastic Soldiers like there's no tomorrow!"

"Copy on all."

The CEO pats his head production manager's shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as he walks up to the third floor. Even though it was already Nine in the evening, the factory was still alive and well, with a lot of its Staff taking overtime to produce more products as demand went sky high. Dave, another man in a suit but in the style of a striped blue, shakes Eltwood's hand firmly.

"You crazy fuck actually did it. After paying back all of our Loans and clearing our Debts, it's only going upward from here on out."

"Yes, yes. I heard the demand has skyrocketed. Really?"

"Yeah, it has. I already put the Documents at your desk. Our most popular product is the Late Two Thousands US Army Armored Battalion. The Two Hundred Soldiers set with the Abrams and Bradleys."