10-29-2008, 10:10 AM
Yeah since my latest request i kinda went off writing...thought i lost the knack because it took so damn long to finish...Anyway here i am again and i hope you like my latest creation. Note: This is just one chapter as a test of my writing skills. I might make a series out of it if it gets some good feedback.
Young at Heart, Chapter 1 of The Report: Introductions and Incinerations.
There are few who truly understood the Incident fully. Some believe it was a spirit sent by the Devil to banish all those who were unworthy…some believed it was another form of terrorism…some even saw it as a godly figure themselves. The United Nations saw it as a threat to society, and thus I am compelled to follow this illusion. But personally, I thought it was just a random encounter, one which was both a unique experience, and one that would’ve helped us.
This is the report of the Incident, from the Mission Logs of Private Jackson of the USMC, and the recordings of the numerous interrogations with the patient, along with many listed sources.
The sun was casting a warm glow over his home in the now safe Pripyat/Chernobyl radioactive zone, which brought a nice sense of friendliness to the area. Deer in their groups grazed in the grass near the old Ferris wheel, Birds nestled in the trees and wild horses drank their fill down by the river. Throughout this moment of tranquillity, the being in question was sleeping.
Sunlight crept through the curtains, casting gold lines on the sleeping body of the human, one which burned his eyes open. He grunted, discomforted by daylight‘s persistence, finally rising from his crumpled sheets. Idly he flicked on his bedside toaster, sticking in two slices, before trudging over to the large mainframe computer opposite his bed.
“Online” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, and stretching his toes.
“Good Morning sir, would you like me to check your messages for you? Or perhaps I could produce you some proper breakfast?” Queried Computer in it’s polite and sophisticated tone.
“Both thanks… is my gun ready?” he slurred, pulling on some clothes with little effort and slinging on his thin zipless grey jacket. A Desert Eagle sidearm, with metallic blue tiger stripes painted onto it’s Gold plated surface popped out the lower foot well of the computing station. The human clutched at it, aimed down the sight and casually unloaded a round into the target on his left, the recoil doing nothing to his tensioned arm and a loud crack resounded from the barrel which appealed to the user’s ears. He placed down the weapon and began buttering the toast that had popped up from the device he set earlier. Computer provided him with a bacon, sliced sausage and egg Sandwich, which he devoured alongside his toast as he read his messages.
Dressed and fed, the being moved downstairs where his two companions, A military obsessed Renamon, and a perverted gaming Flamedramon, were busy reading and playing Call of Duty 4 on the Xbox 360 respectively.
“Going out?” asked the blue lizard, his eyes barely moving from the 34” plasma screen.
“Yeah I’ll be back soon…You gonna be okay here?” asked the Human.
“Yes” replied the Digimon in unison.
He strolled outside towards the runway, where both his helicopter gunship/transport and half-breed centaur Digimon waited in silence. They exchanged grunts of acknowledgement as they boarded the vessel, which began it’s take off procedures.
“Where are we going today?” asked Centaurimon, sitting in his personal stable next to his partner.
“Theres a group of U.S marines trapped in a civilian building, unable to receive reinforcements as they’re surrounded by terrorist forces…we’re going to rescue them in the chopper, get Computer to analyse the scematics of any new weapons they have and then use the Humvee we’re picking up to take out the surviving enemy forces” Explained the human, his skin darkening into a red colour, tribal markings appearing on his body and his build changing.
“Isn’t it a risk they’ll be afraid of us when they get on board?” asked the centaur, watching as his friend’s figure changed to that of a Guilmon.
“When they board, knock em out and gag them…blindfold them also…then we’ll fly them back to the States where they’ll be given to the appropriate persons” answered the Guilmon, who now had his side arm strapped to a holster at his side and a SPAS 12 combat shotgun clenched in his paws.
The helicopter lowered to the ground, hovering above a customised black Humvee, with numerous adjustments to it’s body, including bullet-proof glass, window shutters and numerous other accessories. The helicopter’s electromagnetic holding bay clamped onto the metal shell, raising above the ground with the vehicle held safely to it’s underbelly and thundering off towards it‘s destination.
Mission Log: Private Jackson, USMC. Location: Baghdad, Iraq Date of entry: 06/14/2007
14:38 local time. C.O is dead and we lost privates Walker and Rogers when frag grenade explosion placed them under fatalic conditions. Both died within 12:30 and 12:45. Enemy’s gunfire has turned away from our structure, and to a new target, what sounds like a helicopter. New gunfire, now coming from the Helicopter gunship we can see. Said helicopter has dropped a Humvee, which is now engaging enemy forces. Now about to enter supposedly friendly chopper via rope ladder thrown down to us.
- END LOG.
A resounding smack brought the last soldier under and Centaurimon stood up, watching his master fend off attacking foes with swift dispenses of rounds and numerous other projectiles from the vehicles onboard weapon systems. He admired the effort that his creator put into his work, watching in awe as jets of napalm flames licked up around the vehicle, creating dancing images on it‘s black metallic surface.
“Computer, pick me up at the extraction zone coordinates I send you, and watch out because these guy’s are packing missiles” the figure below called in over the radio, giving up on the terrorist forces and making a run for it up an alleyway.
“Affirmative sir, on my way” responded the computer.
The jet black military vehicle tore through the ruined city streets, gunfire and explosive projectiles hitting it with violent force. Shrugging off the damage, the human pressed on to the L.Z, often activating the machine guns and bringing down some of his opposing forces. As he powerslided the car around the next corner, he saw a Stinger and RPG fiasco in the shop to his right and thus downed the shutters. Using a thermal imaging camera on the roof he targeted the shop’s inhabitants, briskly launching an incendiary round from the grenade launcher and thus disposed of them. He was nearly at the Extraction point, when he braked to sudden halt.
A single masked enemy held a screaming woman in his arms, with a pistol aimed to her head. The human froze, his morals interfering with his objective. Would he save the civilian, and jeopardise the safety of not only himself, Computer and his partner but the marines too? Could he live with the burden of an innocent person’s life on his conscience?
He was reaching for his pistol, determined to kill the cowardly foe, when an unseen bullet ripped through the terrorist’s forehead which began spray blood out of the wound as it collapsed away from it‘s prisoner. Centaurimon lowered his rifle.
The tyres on the Humvee screamed in tortured agony as they coughed out smoke and the vehicle headed for the gunship that waited to retrieve him. The chopper swooped down like and eagle onto the black car, clamping it in it’s rear undercarriage and thundering off to it’s nesting site in Northern Europe.
North Dakota USMC Barracks Activity Log: Officer Patterson
An unusual delivery arrived this morning; A truck had broken through the main gate and parked in our loading bay. Unloading the back we found a group of gagged and blindfolded marines, one of whom had an envelope attached to him [See attached]
Attachment:
“This is the remainder of the group of marines pinned down in the building in Baghdad. Have returned to you to give back to the U.S military. Have eliminated some of the opposing forces within the city on escape. Please do not interrogate these men as they will know nothing about us.
Yours sincerely
… (Unknown sender)”
Following directives, I immediately contacted Command and reported the situation, whilst my men unbound the soldiers. Additional information about these marines has been prohibited to be included in this log by superiors.
- END LOG.
Young at Heart, Chapter 1 of The Report: Introductions and Incinerations.
There are few who truly understood the Incident fully. Some believe it was a spirit sent by the Devil to banish all those who were unworthy…some believed it was another form of terrorism…some even saw it as a godly figure themselves. The United Nations saw it as a threat to society, and thus I am compelled to follow this illusion. But personally, I thought it was just a random encounter, one which was both a unique experience, and one that would’ve helped us.
This is the report of the Incident, from the Mission Logs of Private Jackson of the USMC, and the recordings of the numerous interrogations with the patient, along with many listed sources.
The sun was casting a warm glow over his home in the now safe Pripyat/Chernobyl radioactive zone, which brought a nice sense of friendliness to the area. Deer in their groups grazed in the grass near the old Ferris wheel, Birds nestled in the trees and wild horses drank their fill down by the river. Throughout this moment of tranquillity, the being in question was sleeping.
Sunlight crept through the curtains, casting gold lines on the sleeping body of the human, one which burned his eyes open. He grunted, discomforted by daylight‘s persistence, finally rising from his crumpled sheets. Idly he flicked on his bedside toaster, sticking in two slices, before trudging over to the large mainframe computer opposite his bed.
“Online” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, and stretching his toes.
“Good Morning sir, would you like me to check your messages for you? Or perhaps I could produce you some proper breakfast?” Queried Computer in it’s polite and sophisticated tone.
“Both thanks… is my gun ready?” he slurred, pulling on some clothes with little effort and slinging on his thin zipless grey jacket. A Desert Eagle sidearm, with metallic blue tiger stripes painted onto it’s Gold plated surface popped out the lower foot well of the computing station. The human clutched at it, aimed down the sight and casually unloaded a round into the target on his left, the recoil doing nothing to his tensioned arm and a loud crack resounded from the barrel which appealed to the user’s ears. He placed down the weapon and began buttering the toast that had popped up from the device he set earlier. Computer provided him with a bacon, sliced sausage and egg Sandwich, which he devoured alongside his toast as he read his messages.
Dressed and fed, the being moved downstairs where his two companions, A military obsessed Renamon, and a perverted gaming Flamedramon, were busy reading and playing Call of Duty 4 on the Xbox 360 respectively.
“Going out?” asked the blue lizard, his eyes barely moving from the 34” plasma screen.
“Yeah I’ll be back soon…You gonna be okay here?” asked the Human.
“Yes” replied the Digimon in unison.
He strolled outside towards the runway, where both his helicopter gunship/transport and half-breed centaur Digimon waited in silence. They exchanged grunts of acknowledgement as they boarded the vessel, which began it’s take off procedures.
“Where are we going today?” asked Centaurimon, sitting in his personal stable next to his partner.
“Theres a group of U.S marines trapped in a civilian building, unable to receive reinforcements as they’re surrounded by terrorist forces…we’re going to rescue them in the chopper, get Computer to analyse the scematics of any new weapons they have and then use the Humvee we’re picking up to take out the surviving enemy forces” Explained the human, his skin darkening into a red colour, tribal markings appearing on his body and his build changing.
“Isn’t it a risk they’ll be afraid of us when they get on board?” asked the centaur, watching as his friend’s figure changed to that of a Guilmon.
“When they board, knock em out and gag them…blindfold them also…then we’ll fly them back to the States where they’ll be given to the appropriate persons” answered the Guilmon, who now had his side arm strapped to a holster at his side and a SPAS 12 combat shotgun clenched in his paws.
The helicopter lowered to the ground, hovering above a customised black Humvee, with numerous adjustments to it’s body, including bullet-proof glass, window shutters and numerous other accessories. The helicopter’s electromagnetic holding bay clamped onto the metal shell, raising above the ground with the vehicle held safely to it’s underbelly and thundering off towards it‘s destination.
Mission Log: Private Jackson, USMC. Location: Baghdad, Iraq Date of entry: 06/14/2007
14:38 local time. C.O is dead and we lost privates Walker and Rogers when frag grenade explosion placed them under fatalic conditions. Both died within 12:30 and 12:45. Enemy’s gunfire has turned away from our structure, and to a new target, what sounds like a helicopter. New gunfire, now coming from the Helicopter gunship we can see. Said helicopter has dropped a Humvee, which is now engaging enemy forces. Now about to enter supposedly friendly chopper via rope ladder thrown down to us.
- END LOG.
A resounding smack brought the last soldier under and Centaurimon stood up, watching his master fend off attacking foes with swift dispenses of rounds and numerous other projectiles from the vehicles onboard weapon systems. He admired the effort that his creator put into his work, watching in awe as jets of napalm flames licked up around the vehicle, creating dancing images on it‘s black metallic surface.
“Computer, pick me up at the extraction zone coordinates I send you, and watch out because these guy’s are packing missiles” the figure below called in over the radio, giving up on the terrorist forces and making a run for it up an alleyway.
“Affirmative sir, on my way” responded the computer.
The jet black military vehicle tore through the ruined city streets, gunfire and explosive projectiles hitting it with violent force. Shrugging off the damage, the human pressed on to the L.Z, often activating the machine guns and bringing down some of his opposing forces. As he powerslided the car around the next corner, he saw a Stinger and RPG fiasco in the shop to his right and thus downed the shutters. Using a thermal imaging camera on the roof he targeted the shop’s inhabitants, briskly launching an incendiary round from the grenade launcher and thus disposed of them. He was nearly at the Extraction point, when he braked to sudden halt.
A single masked enemy held a screaming woman in his arms, with a pistol aimed to her head. The human froze, his morals interfering with his objective. Would he save the civilian, and jeopardise the safety of not only himself, Computer and his partner but the marines too? Could he live with the burden of an innocent person’s life on his conscience?
He was reaching for his pistol, determined to kill the cowardly foe, when an unseen bullet ripped through the terrorist’s forehead which began spray blood out of the wound as it collapsed away from it‘s prisoner. Centaurimon lowered his rifle.
The tyres on the Humvee screamed in tortured agony as they coughed out smoke and the vehicle headed for the gunship that waited to retrieve him. The chopper swooped down like and eagle onto the black car, clamping it in it’s rear undercarriage and thundering off to it’s nesting site in Northern Europe.
North Dakota USMC Barracks Activity Log: Officer Patterson
An unusual delivery arrived this morning; A truck had broken through the main gate and parked in our loading bay. Unloading the back we found a group of gagged and blindfolded marines, one of whom had an envelope attached to him [See attached]
Attachment:
“This is the remainder of the group of marines pinned down in the building in Baghdad. Have returned to you to give back to the U.S military. Have eliminated some of the opposing forces within the city on escape. Please do not interrogate these men as they will know nothing about us.
Yours sincerely
… (Unknown sender)”
Following directives, I immediately contacted Command and reported the situation, whilst my men unbound the soldiers. Additional information about these marines has been prohibited to be included in this log by superiors.
- END LOG.
UnknownH Wrote:We do have soap and smarter doctors nowYay!
![[Image: th_X-VeemonSig.jpg]](http://th48.photobucket.com/albums/f223/ryu_ran913/PS%20Attempts/th_X-VeemonSig.jpg)
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