Primal Origin Quotes

“too”
― Jack Silkstone, Primal Origin

“Sometimes the answers we’re looking for can’t be found in a book.” The old man frowned as he sat, his features disappearing into a landscape of crevices. He spoke quietly, “There is always someone who has walked the path before you, my friend. In books they leave their lessons for those who are wise enough to find them.” Bishop”
― Jack Silkstone, Primal Origin

“You’ve got to be shitting me. A Prius.” “Just shut up and get in.” The hybrid car gave a whine as Bishop pressed the ignition button. “Yeah, great, we’ll really be able to outrun them in this,” Ice grumbled to himself as he leapt into the backseat.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“The market is flooded with all of the cheap stuff coming out of Russia. You know, the Curtain comes down and they flood the market with junk.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Do they look Russian?” Vance did not sound concerned. “Big shaved heads, jeans, and T-shirts. Yeah, old man, I’d say they look pretty Russian. I mean they’re not wearing Cossack outfits, but hey, it’s the next best thing.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Where do I find Simeon Isayev?” He pointed the weapon directly at the chief enforcer’s face. “Fuck you!” the man slurred, his jaw broken. The pistol sneezed and the Russian screamed as the heavy slug tore his kneecap out. He collapsed to the ground. Ice had his own pistol out and was covering the other men. “You’ve got another knee, then I start on the elbows. We can do this all day,” said Bishop. “He’s at the office; it’s in the industrial area,” the man whimpered. “What’s the address?” The Russian rattled it off.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Four of them got out of the SUV, all heavily built, all wearing jeans, T-shirts, and, despite the heat, jackets. “Hi.” Bishop gave them a wave. “What the fuck are you doing here?” asked their leader. He had a shaved head and looked like his diet consisted mainly of horse steroids. “I’m sorry, didn’t your man at the gate tell you? We’re from Human Rights Watch, just doing an inspection on the conditions of the camp.” “Who gave you permission to do that?” “Oh I can’t remember, some guy from your headquarters.” He looked at Ice. “Do you remember his name? I think it was ‘Simon’ or something.” Ice didn’t miss a beat. “I seem to remember it was ‘Simeon.’ Yeah, Simeon.” “Simeon Isayev?” The man looked surprised. “Simeon Isayev gave you permission to come here?” The other henchmen looked at each other. “Yes, that’s correct.” Bishop smiled. “Lovely fellow.” “I don’t believe you. I’m going to call him.” “There’s really no need.” “Shut your mouth.” The thug started to dial a number on his cell phone. Bishop pulled out his false credentials. “Simeon was nice enough to give us this letter. Do you want to see it?” He stepped forward, offering the document. The Russian grunted. He had his phone to his ear with one hand and held out the other. Bishop’s punch caught him completely by surprise. It hit him square on the jaw, sending him reeling backward. He dropped his phone.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Major Chua speaking.” “Hey bud, it’s Vance.” “You’re supposed to be dead.” “That’s no way to greet an old friend.” Chua looked down at the phone; the caller ID was blank and yet the call was still coming through on the encrypted military network. “Vance, where are you calling from?” “I’m on a beach under a palm tree.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“If it flies, drives, shoots, finds, swims, explodes, or sings, then PRIMAL wants it. By the time we’re ready to roll, I wanna be able to reach out and touch any murdering, polluting, exploiting fucktard on the face of the earth. We’re gonna make Mossad and the CIA look like a bunch of cookie-selling Girl Scouts!”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Let me get this straight,” asked Vance. “You want to fund us to run around the world whacking all those evil fuckers that the CIA never let us touch?” “Not how I would have described it, but yes, that is the crux of the concept.” There was silence at the table as the three men considered Tariq’s proposal. Ice broke the silence. “I’m in.” Mitch followed suit. “Me too. I need a new”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“I say,” Mitch added, “you two,” he used his beer to point at the two former CIA operatives, “have been drinking a shitload of booze. For a pair of dead chaps, that is.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“How did you know the CIA would send me?” Vance asked. “That, my friend, was Allah’s will, or perhaps it was because I asked for you personally. It depends what you believe.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“In the back of the van, the teenager was sitting on a layer of small bricks wrapped in wax paper. He was clutching what looked like a slot car controller, his fist clenched around it. “Release-activated detonator,” Ice stated calmly, “and probably at least half a ton of C4.” “I’ve seen this before,” said Vance. “You see how he’s clean-shaven, head and all. I’ve seen this before in Yemen. He’s been purified for the big bang. Poor bastard’s well and truly been brainwashed.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“Beecroft pushed back his chair and struggled to remove his corpulent frame from its clutches. He finally jumped to his feet, drawing himself up to his full five feet nine inches. “You will do no such thing. This is my post and I will—” “You will sit the fuck down, Ambassador!” Vance growled from a height advantage of almost six inches. Beecroft shrunk like a deflated balloon, dropping back into his chair.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin

“So this is the renegade running black ops in my Emirates,” Beecroft said. “I’m sorry: black ops?” Vance returned the scornful gaze, equally unimpressed with the ambassador. Beecroft sported a portly frame and ruddy complexion, the result of years on the cocktail circuit. “Yes, the CIA didn’t seek my approval for your little mission.” The ambassador’s voice was clipped and pompous. His chins wobbled as he spoke. “Last time I checked, the CIA didn’t work for the State Department,” Vance responded.”
― Jack Silkstone, PRIMAL Origin