tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57215892412412596032024-03-18T21:50:18.192-07:00Twilight 2000: Later DaysThe chronicle of my ongoing Twilight 2000 campaign. Game posts are numbered and meant to be read in order. Having survived the death of the 5th ID and escaped Poland, the team has returned to America as part of Operation OMEGA. Their current assignment; finding the gold reserves lost somewhere in Manhattan. Stranger things intervene.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-75207292761113078572013-03-11T06:10:00.004-07:002013-03-11T06:10:45.413-07:00102: Beseiged, Day 4, part 3<b>January 6th, 2001</b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<br />
The first floor is theirs. They can choke on it. There's six stairwells in the hospital. Four are crammed with beds, desks, chairs, and booby traps; have fun. The northernmost center stairwell is open, but the halls leading to it are barricaded and trapped as well. This last one, the one right here, is still open. Hope they didn't bring a flamethrower.<br />
<br />
<b>Alpha</b><br />
<br />
Ed's pop-gun keeps hammering away. It is no time to slow down. I draw my hatchet and let the rifle swing on its sling. Down a short hall and turn back towards pediatrics. <br />
<br />
"Stop or..."<br />
<br />
Lt George sprawled, unconscious, by the door, pinch-faced Jones sheltering behind him, pistol in one hand and grenade in the other.<br />
<br />
"...I'll..."<br />
<br />
Nope! No stopping. That big handgun of Jones' starts to shift away from George's head. Too slow.<br />
<br />
"...shoot!"<br />
<br />
I swing with all my might down from on high into his shoulder. I might as well have struck a concrete wall. The blade doesn't sink in. Instead, its as if I'd struck with the flat. He flails under the impact, hand open instinctively, and the live grenade bounces loose.<br />
<br />
Sorry, George.<br />
<br />
<b>Leonid</b><br />
<br />
The men following Alpha stop and backpedal away from turn to pediatrics. A flash and bang tell me why. I pass them as they recover their senses with my rifle tucked tight into my shoulder. Blast marks on the walls and door, one body setting limply, and two other struggling up. Alpha's gripping his head and using the wall for support. The other (oh, Mr. Jones!) on one knee with his monster handgun getting ready to cap my comrade. <br />
<br />
Not today. The first two bursts do little but stagger him. He screams with the third. Falls, clawing at his chest, with the fourth. There's blood at the sixth. He's tough. Keep pounding till blood and guts spill onto the floor. I drop the magazine from the wells and reach to swap out another.<br />
<br />
The doors to pediatrics fly open as a hose-head charges through. I double over, ribs cracking, as it shoulder checks me. The blow knocks me from my feet. The fresh magazine clatters away. It screeches, raising a foot, about to curb stomp my head.<br />
<br />
Alpha's men open up. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Alpha</b><br />
<br />
Time enough to pick myself up once the hose-head drops. The men gabble at me, but the concussion grenade did enough damage to stop that for the day. I wave them away and find my hatchet. Work to do.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>Leonid</b><br />
<br />
Ed limps out into the hall. Some black guy in sweats with an M-16 moves painfully behind him. Ed laughs darkly and spits on the hose-head. "All secure," he reports.<br />
<b> </b><br />
Down the halls gunfire still sounds.<br />
<br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<br />
We hold them at the stairs. The
partially clogged well allows one man at a time to get up and the
netting set down the gaps prevents them from giving us an explosive
present. We hold them.<br />
<br />
Then, they stop trying. Someone down there tries to push them on. There's a shot. Someone isn't pushing them anymore.<br />
<br />
They
break. It isn't a dignified retreat, falling back by the numbers, and
covering their ass. Whoever fired that shot takes off at the run and
his panic spreads. They run.<br />
<br />
J-boy jeers and the men pick it up. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-77376113893865753582013-02-28T08:08:00.000-08:002013-02-28T08:08:45.310-08:00101: Besieged, Day 4, part 2<b>January 6th, 2001</b><br />
<br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
No, no, no! First the lighting failed, then the steady hammer from the southern barricade fell silent. I bark, "Go, go, go!" and fully open my stride.<br />
<br />
The troops holding the south wall are too busy trying and failing to keep the nearly a score of dements off our machine-gunners to acknowledge our arrival. The same goes for the dements. Too bad. M60 cocked back to club I lead my depleted reserve into a headlong charge.<br />
<br />
The first of them falls, dead or near to, with a cracked skull. The second, straddling Sgt Ross, takes the back swing full in the chest. To my right, Doc stabs again and again with her knife. On my left, Torress falls as a stray round sneaks past the barricades clutching at his gut. Damn! A snarling, barely human face, turns away from J-boy to me, only to fall as his squad mate thrusts with a bayoneted M-16. Malcolm falls as a heavy pipe leaves his lower leg flopping at the wrong angle. I step past Ross; rolling over his attacker with a knife, and thrust with all my strength. The butt of the M60 folds Malcolm's attacker at the waist. Back, overhead, and down into his exposed neck. He crumples as Malcolm tries to choke back the screams.<br />
<br />
Reaching the barricades I slide in beside the MG loader and set the 60 into one of the abandoned fire ports. Shapes, real and imaginary, move in the smoke. This old gun isn't supposed to be used as a battering ram. With a brief prayer I chamber a round and stroke the trigger.<br />
<br />
She fires true, bucking right to left as I walk her across the parking lot. Over the hammering of the 60, J-boy orders the able to ready grenades. "Hold fire!" Count one, two, three. "Frags out!" Damaged ears can't hear them bounce out, but I can here the shouts of alarm in the silence, the sharp explosions, and the cries of the not yet dead.<br />
<br />
"Jay! Fall back with wounded to Bravo." I return my 60 to her port. "We'll follow ASAP." I make quick eye contact with Freeman and Smith on the 50. "Let's make some noise!"<br />
<br />
<b>Alphabit</b><br />
<br />
The air in the generator room is chocked with concrete dust and the harsh ammonia stink of C4. Breathing into the crook of my arm I shuffle towards the wall of generators. Please, please, let it be the switch. Blink back tears. Stifle my cough. Find the controls more by feel then sight. <br />
<br />
Yes, the master's been thrown open. There's a comforting snick as the circuit closes. The fuel line is still locked open. I prime the pump and, with a prayer to the Saint, turn it over. The generator coughs on the polluted air. For a heart seizing moment it sputters and chokes, before sparking awake. Above the lights flare and dim back to their normal levels.<br />
<br />
<b>Leo</b><br />
<br />
Smoke and thick dust swirl behind Alpha's disappearing form as he heads off to the generators. I keep time with our new friend. <br />
<br />
A solid boot rolls it's bulk over. Keening cries and thick blood seep from ruptures and tears across the torso. More like road-rash than sausage. Ten shells of 00 buck. It should be sausage split all open.<br />
<b></b><br />
I "think" at it as hard as I can. Ugly, it is your unlucky day. Yellow, pain-filled eyes blink trying to focus on my. I can only hope it heard. Try anything, I will take your eyes...<br />
<br />
One of my American comrades approaches with chains, padlocks, and a box of dusk masks from storage. Good. I grab on of the arms, be thankful it is not your hose, and drag it towards a floor to ceiling support. The lights come on as I make our guest secure. Good, very good.<br />
<br />
Closing the door into our improvised cell I detail two of the men to guard the door. "If that door opens, regardless of what you see, shoot. If you even think that door is about to open, shoot. Understood? Good!"<br />
<br />
Coughing, Alphabit returns. I hand him a mask, "Cover-up, comrade." Slip one over my own face hiding my grin, "There's more inside. I can feel it."<br />
<br />
He nods while adjusting his own own to place. <br />
<br />
"Let's find them."<br />
<br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<br />
Bravo's been reenforced by Lt Sanya Belski's men from the east side. He reports they've set their traps and deadfalls before falling back. J-boy and two others are on the second floor manning the murder holes. I lay the 60 down the long hall to reception. Smith and Beebe knock together and set the 50 up facing down to ER.<br />
<br />
Doc's shouting for supplies as she works on Torres. I need to work to close her out and focus. Sharp gunfire and muffled thuds mark the approach of our enemy. Bleed them the whole way. The first survivor staggers into view. I pick up the trigger slack.<br />
<br />
<b>Leonid</b><br />
<br />
Mud and bare wet prints darken the falling concrete dust. I lead Alpha, Ballard, and Shriver into the maze of maintenance tunnels. The <i>Zver</i> and their beasts ran. We can't move as blindly. We can feel the assault gaining speed above and we're stumbling in the fucking dust.<br />
<br />
Alpha finds the bootprint, clear as day, under the emergency lighting at the rearmost stairwell. He spits to the side, "Witch."<br />
<br />
<i>Da,</i> our friend Jones, I know it. Couldn't resist, could you? Ah, Nikita said it, "We will bury you!" <br />
<br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<b></b><br />
We hold them at Bravo and chop them to pieces. They can't get past, but by the sounds of our traps, they'll eventually work their way around. We're being flanked. Doc's stabilized Torress and the other wounded have been pulled up a story and back. We can move. <br />
<br />
A stretcher team shifts Torress. Doc nestles in beside me. "Head back."<br />
<br />
"Not letting you have all the fun!"<br />
<br />
Right, fun. "Take the belt. Belski!"<br />
<br />
"<i>Da!</i>"<br />
<br />
"Cease fire." <br />
<br />
We let the fire slacken and stop. A passing moment of silence, then another that stretches. In the dark and smoke a shape approaches. A muffled shout brings out another. We let them come close, just feet away, before emptying rest of the belt down the hall. <br />
<br />
Doc, Belski, and I fall back, undisturbed.<br />
<br />
<b>Leonid</b><br />
We find a spilled duffel with small arms and shells scattered across the landing. They were ours, captured arms, what are they doing here? Never the mind. The sound of gunfire draws us. <br />
<br />
Third floor, riverside, by the fire escapes. We left our civilian laborers here, safe to the rear. I recognize the sharp stutter of Ed's <i>Papasha. </i>Alpha curses and leads at a sprint. I bite back the order to stay him. Wouldn't be obeyed and just give us away. Don't get killed.<br />
<br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<b></b><br />
Back and up. The first floor is theirs.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-57023593860191738792013-02-10T17:46:00.002-08:002013-02-10T17:46:34.108-08:00100: Besieged, Day 4, part 1<b>Paterson, January 6th, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
"What the fuck are they waiting on! George, how do we get them to do something stupid?" The energy in my voice is answered by smiles from the boys. I feel fresh and ready. <br />
<br />
George smiles, "They already are."<br />
<br />
Leo eagerly interrupts. "<i>Da, </i>he gives us time to heal. Another day and we push him."<br />
<br />
"Been making plans, Leo?"<br />
<br />
"My friends, when do I not?" He traces routes on the map. "We can ex-filtrate a team out the north and to the east along the river. We swing around behind their positions at the sub-train yards. Come out of the dark and...."<br />
<br />
BOOM<br />
<br />
A shiver runs through the halls.<br />
<br />
Alpha's first off the mark. He's out the door, rifle in hand, shouting, "Basement!"<br />
<br />
Heavy gunfire starts up from south side. <br />
<br />
"You wanted them to do something stupid?" George asks as he slots a magazine into his rifle.<br />
<br />
"Rhetorical, purely rhetorical. Leo, follow Alpha." I know explosives. "That was a breaching charge, not an attempt to bring down the building. Take a fire team. He'll need reinforcements." Leo leaves at a sprint.<br />
<br />
"George, take charge of the civvies." He frowns. "They're our responsibility. I doubt Hizzoner's men have any compassion for them."<br />
<br />
"Right, I'll raid the armory, pull some shotguns." Damn, I should have done that earlier.<br />
<br />
Contact reports start to flow in. South face is under heavy suppressing fire. A follow-up reports smoke to their front. East side reports light contact. Just to pin them in place Lt Belski opines. The situation is under control.<br />
<br />
And it all changes in a moment. Outside our meeting room the last of my reserve opens fire, a eardrum wracking mad minute. Doc leans out the door to add her weight to their fire. Inside, I receive hurried contact reports from the east and south, dements to their rear. More explosions inside and outside the walls, mostly to the south.<br />
<br />
The fire just outside dies, replaced by single spaced M-16 retorts. Doc gives me a thumbs-up. East reports situation stable. No contact with the south. Again, no contact with the south. I can still hear the fire.<br />
<br />
I signal to Doc, get ready to move, "South!". On the tac-net I signal, "Belski, execute Uniform, repeat Uniform."<br />
<br />
I hear his acknowledgement as I head out the door. Dements are on the inside. We'll bust through to the men on the south or avenge them. I have to trust Leo and Alpha to close the hole.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Alphabit</b><br />
<b></b><br />
I take the stairs half a flight at a time, one hand on the rail, and one on the CAWs stock. The men I pulled curse and follow as they can. It won't do any good if we get there late, and St. Patrick help me, I know I'm already late. At least one of the hose-heads is inside. I felt the touch of its evil across my scalp as I hit the stairs to the basements. <br />
<br />
Bellows of rage meet me as I round the last landing. A handful of dements charge from the generator room. A short burst bounces shot from the floor, walls, and through them. Bellows turn to screams. <br />
<br />
My men have my back. "Hose-head inside! Hold and cover!" Crouching, I swap magazines before duck walking down the stairs. Claws tickle against my mind. Where are you? <br />
<br />
There's a pair of double doors into maintenance storage before you get to electrical proper. As I approach them the generator fails. In the brief flicker of darkness before the battery lights kick in a second wave of dements boils forth.<br />
<br />
Close enough to feel, the sharp bursts of M-16 fire pass over my head. In the confined space they fall. The doors to maintenance crash open and a dark, lumpen blur slams into me, clawed hands flailing, the vest shedding under it's strike.<br />
<br />
Pity about his cousin's leathery replacing my old inserts. The creature's claws slid away. Staggered, I push back at the beast with my CAW. My men scream at me to drop as it steps away. Instead, I set the CAW in my hip and let it have five rounds of buckshot. It drops to one knee and the CAW comes up to my shoulder. I flip the selector to semi-auto and space the rounds until it drops. <br />
<br />
Ears ringing I shout the men forward. "Secure the intersection!" Entirely on their own, hands pluck another magazine from my webbing and slam it home. The ugly bastard on the floor keens and curls tight around itself. I shift to cover it so the shot doesn't bounce into my troops.<br />
<br />
Leo rounds the stairs, alone, his cold blue eyes taking in the scene. "We need chains," I tell him. "It's still alive."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-58365654000857519382013-02-04T06:09:00.000-08:002013-02-04T06:09:49.001-08:00099: Beseiged Day 3<b>January 4th, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
"Damn it, George, what are they waiting for?"<br />
<br />
"They want to wear us down."<br />
<br />
The sniping has been going back and forth for over two days now. We have some casualties, all minor, from spalling and expended rounds. They have fatalities. Unfortunately, they have many more men. <br />
<br />
"Why don't they just rush us. They have enough to human wave us."<br />
<br />
Leo signals with a grunt. I give him the floor.<br />
<br />
"They don't have the conviction." He pound his fist into his palm. "You need to be dedicated, wholly dedicated, to the cause to throw yourself away like that. They may fear their commanders, but it isn't enough to convince them. I blame American individualism."<br />
<br />
Nervous laughter fills the room.<br />
<br />
"See, is good for something."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
The tower's still burning. North wind is still holding. Fire hasn't spread so far.<br />
<br />
Wish we could make more flaming rounds, but the stocks of catalyst are very low. We had enough for two more rounds. Alpha and Sterns put together another cannon. We've got one pointing south and the second on the east side. If we find them building up troops in a building on either side then we'll try and repeat our success from yesterday.<br />
<br />
No point in burning a building till then.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
I'm feeling better by the day. If that fool gives us enough time we'll be strong enough to go with Leo's plan and take the fight to them. Give me that time.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I take a tour of the facility. Our civilian dependents have been plenty busy. I know they have as much on the line as we do, but damn is it gratifying to see them throwing in as hard as they can. Most of them have acquired multipurpose tools for work and mayhem. God knows they've had the time to learn how to use them.<br />
<br />
Maybe I should have George move arms up to their area. With Ed conscious and responsive now I have someone I can spare to oversee them. Need to think about it.<br />
<br />
Morale is good. We've given much harder than we've received. The men know how they'd take the hospital. The fact that Hizzoner's bullies haven't shows how much better we are than them. We can beat them. Give me time.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Ones</b><br />
<br />
Down in the stone roots of the world, One and another and a man-thing crawl. The image is wrong, 'man-thing' is no more a man than One, but the body is so close. One knows the blood would be as sweet. It's thoughts are shielded well. Would it feel the same as a man when One fed? Bright quicksilver fears fading into dark waters as the last of the heat left the veins. Maybe?<br />
<br />
A cold spike of though punctures One's back. "Be-Have." Yes, man-thing, not man-prey. Two could take him, but this is not the time, not when many prey are so near.<br />
<br />
Focusing again on their task One and another reach for the painful, bright thoughts of prey through the stones. They scuttle together, closer and closer, with the stranger stumbling behind. It cannot feel the surroundings as they do, instead it brings its own light, dull and red. They wait on it.<br />
<br />
Hard to share thoughts with it. It's shields are strong. If they weren't it would be prey. A prickle at one's back reminds One not to think on such things.<br />
<br />
"<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps">Hic locus est</span>?</span>," It mutters to itself. "<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps">Venire</span> <span class="hps">diu</span> <span class="hps">tulimus." Like unshriven it burbles nonsensically to itself. It will never be made right. It is not One's task to make it right. One tries to communicate distance; <i>close, near, touchable, just above.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps">Jones sighs unhappily. Right through the ceiling. It is a long way to haul the explosives. Never mind, he will do it. Breach the floor and let the Bloodkin and their surviving shriven animals inside. Let Paterson's men focus on the enemy within. Then the one without can fall on them. Yes, a good plan. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps">With any luck the Bloodkin will die as well. Their hunger, so carefully hidden, is visible every time their ugly yellow eyes fall on him. He isn't food.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="la"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-8193288951050561732012-11-13T16:41:00.002-08:002012-11-13T17:17:12.128-08:00098: Beseiged - Day 2<b>Paterson, January 3rd, 2000</b><br />
<br />
Early morning. Doc and Ross agree, we're not making our expected recovery. Well, Doc agrees. Ross always had his suspicions, but now he's been fully briefed. Stupid fears, as our medical second, he should have been brought up to speed much earlier.<br />
<br />
The problem, they think, is the shrapnel, odd shaped fragments dug in deep, aren't migrating to the surface as they should. Should. <i>SHOULD. </i>Ah, how abnormal becomes normal. I can feel their hard knots in the muscles and under the skin sawing away as I move. Thank god for pain killers in all their glory.<br />
<br />
Ross'll put Doc under the knife first.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------<br />
<br />
"Damn, George, what are they doing?"<br />
<br />
"Harassing, sniping, probing. Last night was their easiest shot at us. Now, now they have to think it through again."<br />
<br />
Leo grunts, "They want us alive. Otherwise, I'd just burn us out."<br />
<br />
We glumly contemplate that option. Leo's eye's light up. "Burn!"<br />
<br />
He gets up, using his cane, and hobbles to the door. "I got to see Alpha."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Late morning. Doc's shoveling it in. Mouthful after happy mouthful of high calorie, irreplaceable MREs. She's sitting beside a bedpan filled with a double fistful of metal shards.<br />
<br />
Ross still looks dumbstruck. "The shrapnel was easy once I could reach it! Her incision kept trying to clot over and close itself. Like watching the healing process in time lapse. They were encapsulated in this watery goo, almost pus, material. I saved some for later examination." He keeps shaking his head. "Once I pulled the foreign matter I only had to suture the grossest cuts." <br />
<br />
"Are you up for doing it again?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, Major. I..."<br />
<br />
"Give me another hour," Doc interrupts. "Ross, you can assist."<br />
<br />
"You sure?"<br />
<br />
"Absolutely!" Her leg bounces restlessly. "Turn down the chance to cut, cut, cut on my commander. Never!"<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
"What is this?"<br />
<br />
Leo stands proudly in the hall by his 'contraption'. "Is simple. This was oxygen cylinder, we take off bottom. Don't worry, was empty already. This is a full Nitrogen cylinder. Together they make air-cannon. We fill IV bags with flammables, they break when they land, spread fuel all around."<br />
<br />
"And how do they ignite?"<br />
<br />
"Haven't figured that. Got any ideas?"<br />
<br />
Boys.<br />
<br />
"Why, yes." I take up a pen. "See if Griffith has any of this in inventory." My professors would shit themselves if they saw what use I put my college chemistry classes to. <br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I'm like a mother hen, filling my chicks with wisdom, before going under the knife. Leo and George take it with good humor, but George has long past stopped taking notes.<br />
<br />
Doc places one hand on my shoulder. "Kat, enough. They know what to do. You'll be back in a few hours." She waves at the two men. "Scat. I'll send a runner once she's out of surgery."<br />
<br />
Doc's still moving stiffly. Is this really a good idea? Probably not, but I need to be up before the inevitable happens. They'll get it together soon and there's at least on hose-head out there. "Fine, get out of here."<br />
<br />
George salutes, "See you after your nap."<br />
<br />
Leo just nods, one fiend to another.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I wake from nightmares to gunfire and screams. I grope wildly for a weapon as strong arms force me down. Another pair of hands pin my arms. Shouted orders sound over the screams. "Kat, stand down! Kat, stop, stand down!"<br />
<br />
Doc, Doc's voice. I try to still myself. The gunfire's far away, outside. Screams are coming from the next ward. "What... Who?"<br />
<br />
"Probing attack. They're not pushing." Yet, I finish, yet. "Eddie woke about ten minutes ago. He's... not responsive. I got him strapped in. But I'm not going to block his airway."<br />
<br />
Fog's clearing some. "Sedate him?"<br />
<br />
"To save your eardrums? No. He's experienced major head trauma and been unconscious for 48 hours. Damned if I'll put him back under."<br />
<br />
"Right, right."<br />
<br />
Ross rubs his ribs. "One hell of a punch, Major."<br />
<br />
"Sorry," didn't realize I hit him.<br />
<br />
"No worries." He hands me a pair of foam shooter's ear plugs. "Put these in and rest."<br />
<br />
"Yeah," Doc barks, "we'll wake you before you die."<br />
<br />
"Work on your bedside manner."<br />
<br />
"When you can get a second opinion. Not until then."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Later, once I've gotten past the groggy stage, Doc hands me my own collection of junk in a pan. Add it to my collection she tells me.<br />
<br />
People collect the damnedest things; cards, cans, rubber bands, and twine. I should start a scrap metal collection. Nah. I hand the pan full of shrapnel back to Doc. "Give this to Alpha. Tell him to recycle it back at them."<br />
<br />
"Ooo, that's a good idea!"<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Hours later, walking without shrieking in pain is it's own reward.<br />
<br />
"So, Leo, you've test fired it already?"<br />
<br />
"Water bags only, but yes."<br />
<br />
"And?"<br />
<br />
He grins happily. "It has range! I put 'rounds' pretty far into the river from the top floor. Tirado, did math stuff." Tirado's one of Alpha's 3rd squad men. "He things if we haul it up into one of the towers we send it several blocks."<br />
<br />
"As far as Isham?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe."<br />
<br />
"Did you get the flammables?"<br />
<br />
"<i>Da!</i> We got four rounds. You got a target?"<br />
<br />
"They've got another OP on top of that apartment complex outside Isham. Lots of broken windows over there. See if you can put a few rounds in after dark."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Manhattan's skyline is lit with flames.<br />
<br />
I thought we missed completely with the first round. There was nothing for a long while. We waited on a sign.<br />
<br />
Leo gave a happy woop before handing me his thermal sight. We'd hit around the 5th story. It was inside and burning merrily. Luck had given us a broken window at the right height. To be fair, most of the north side was broken windows.<br />
<br />
Tirado tweaked the angle on Leo's toy. Round two went out once the fires became visible. That round struck low on the tenth floor. Flames dripped down the exterior and didn't catch. The dry interior furnishing though caught from the splash.<br />
<br />
Maybe the roof OP finally smelled smoke or someone looking back from the front lines outside Allen noticed the lights. In the end it didn't matter much. Flames spread, the tower burned, and choking black smoke rolled on the cold north wind down into their base in Isham Park. <br />
<br />
Someone, I forget who, asked me if I was worried that the fires would spread. So long as the north wind holds let it burn. I'm not who I was anymore. 'You've come a long way, baby.'<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-62272360299274321722012-10-29T15:47:00.000-07:002012-10-29T15:47:04.271-07:00097: Beseiged - Day 1<b>Paterson, January 2nd, 2001</b><br />
<br />
George joins the command meeting in the wards. Leo's mobile, barely. Alpha's getting around fine, lucky boy. Doc and I share the largest room available with our own comfy beds. A space heater whirls noisily on the corner.<br />
<br />
"Damn George, how the hell did we make it to daylight? I expected everything to fall apart once night fell."<br />
<br />
He shrugs, "Without the tracks and the gun they'll have to revise their plans. If Leo scored on Jones as well they might not have an overall commander on scene either. If they're like other strongman militia's we've seen, they don't encourage independent action."<br />
<br />
"I'll take the time they give me. How are preparations?"<br />
<br />
"West side access has been closed. The access doors have been booby trapped and welded shut. It will take some clearing once this is finished, but it should strongly discourage them."<br />
<br />
"I admire your confidence," Leo grumbles.<br />
<br />
"West side access is very limited. If they do manage to breach, we'll have plenty of time to shift our reserve as they try to advance down those halls. Alpha and his boys have all sorts of nasty surprises waiting for them." George smiles.<br />
<br />
Alpha interrupts, "trip-wires, nail bombs, a few claymores. Murder holes down the interior corridors. Stairwells are full of furniture, so they can't get upper floor access without getting deep into the interior. We'll make them pay."<br />
<br />
"North and east?" Yeah, we're very clever, and very outnumbered.<br />
<br />
"Weaker," George continues, "Too much glass frontage to defend and the ER on the east side was designed for easy access. We'd already emplaced forward and fall back fighting positions when we occupied the facility. The troops know how to fight. We'll make them pay for every room and fall back point. If all goes sour, we preform a fighting retreat to the second floor, south side. The rafts and assault boat are secured and camouflaged by the shore. We have enough capacity to exfiltrate all the troops."<br />
<br />
"And our charges?"<br />
<br />
"Let's not let it come to that."<br />
<br />
"How about we arm them as well," Alpha suggests, "We've seen what this bastard does to his workers. They're as good as dead if we leave them."<br />
<br />
I shake my head. "Last resort. I hate to think what would happen to our men, falling back under fire, to a position held by untrained, unsteady civilians. We're looking at enough casualties without inflicting our own. Keep them working on support duties. Call them force multipliers."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
George and Alpha are back at duties. Leo stays to argue a stronger course of action.<br />
<br />
"Major, respectfully, we need to push them while we can."<br />
<br />
"Give me options first. I'm not writing a check."<br />
<br />
"They have little night vision. We go raiding after dark. Kill some of these scum. Sow some confusion. Maybe find Jones again. Finish it." He mimes a pistol.<br />
<br />
"Who's we. You, Alpha? Doc had to be carried here. I hobbled in by burning syringes of pain-killer. Ed and Root still haven't regained conscious. Tell me, who?"<br />
<br />
"Me, yes. I take J-boy, maybe a few others. We saw more combat in one month than these fucks have seen all year. We can do this."<br />
<br />
"No, you can't. You heard George. We're facing company frontage to the east and south. Even with 'limited' night vision they're only covering a block. You're not stealthing in and out."<br />
<br />
He grimaces, "I can."<br />
<br />
"When you walk without a stick. I could see the pain when you came into the room. Stuff's still working its way out. Found any in your bedding?"<br />
<br />
He looks away. "Yes, and you? Yes, and more coming up. Our busy little friends will get it out. We just need the time. Time that Hizzoner seems to be giving us. Go get some sleep. They'll wake us if anything happens.."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Early afternoon, they sent us two men in a HMMWV. White flag, slow approach, up Broadway to the ER lot and wait. I take my time walking up to the third floor. Least I can do, they asked for me by name.<br />
<br />
The position is reinforced to chest height. All I've got to do is drop if I come under fire. Fortunately, the elevated train cuts into long line of sights from the east. Still, I feel exposed.<br />
<br />
"I'm Major Paterson. You are you."<br />
<br />
"Sgt. Cal Younger, assigned to Reconstruction Team 94 under the legal government of the United States. According to Presidential Directive HB-7886, you are to stand down and submit your command to the highest ranking member of the civil administration for further orders. Will you comply?"<br />
<br />
Really? Really? Please, ma'am, put up your guns and come along quietly. Who do you think you're fooling. "And that would be you, <i>Sergeant?"</i><br />
<br />
"No, ma'am. Gerald Thornton is acting administrator for the New York Municipal District. I'm to act as escort."<br />
<br />
"And these <i>gentlemen</i> surrounding our position?"<br />
<br />
"Duly authorized militia for Manhattan."<br />
<br />
"And Hizzoner?"<br />
<br />
"Recognized as the legitimate governmental authority for NYC."<br />
<br />
Recognize this you fucking slaver, rapist, bastard. "Go to hell!"<br />
<br />
I drop. From rooms on either side of me Leo's MAG and Squad 3's SAW open up on the soft-skinned Hummer. It gets into reverse, but loses control before it leaves the lot crashing backwards into elevated supports. Sgt. Younger, somehow surviving the fire directed at his transport, pulls himself from the roof hatch and jumps down. Leo's MAG walks over him. He twitches and falls. <br />
<br />
I hear the whoompf of leaking fuel catching. The vehicle begins to burn. There's no screams from the cab. His driver must already be dead.<br />
<br />
The tense silence that has held over the block breaks as Hizzoner's 'duly constituted militia' fire blindly at our south side positions. I hear the louder crack of our measured replies from firing slits set inside south facing rooms. <br />
<br />
Did they actually think that would work?<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Sporadic fire continued through out the afternoon. We're still in fine shape. One minor injury from a round that improbably passed through a slit and spalled fragments off the far wall. He's back at duty.<br />
<br />
They try to keep it up after night falls. That proves to be a poor idea on their part. They're trying to wear us down, but every one of them has to take time to adjust and hunt down a target in a dark building on an overcast night while we can see the ghostly green or their exposed faces. Yeah, as expected. Hurting them, casualties and morale, much more than lack of sleep will hurt us.<br />
<br />
That isn't even counting Leo, not resting as ordered, with his SVD and thermal sight. I hear he's getting his jollies by looking for their camouflaged OPs and letting them know. <br />
<br />
They stop after losing more than a handful. Leo presses me to send a strike team out now that their observers have pulled back. I tell him no again. They may have pulled back into their building, but they're still there. So, no, no way.<br />
<br />
Besides, I can feel something brewing. This isn't all of it for tonight. Not by a long shot.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Near on 0300 our fans on the south side make a mass showing. Nearly a hundred small arms firing from the apartments across 218th Street into Allen Pavilion. We reply where we can, but mainly wait for the rush. Probably along the east end once we've shifted south. <br />
<br />
The tower OP reports movement on the thin strip of land to our north. I commit our reserve. The floods we've shifted from Baker's Field get lit. It isn't even close.<br />
<br />
Thirty-odd dements and a hose-head trying to sneak in. Sure, I see the rational. Get crazy suicide mobs into our positions from the rear and we'll be too busy to repel the frontal rush. Except the ground floor doors are welded shut and they don't have ladders. I almost feel sorry for the dements, almost. I'm really sorry that the hose-head got away into the river.<br />
<br />
I'm not sorry at all for the men who rushed us at the sound of fire from the far side of Allen. Their assault was haphazard and soon petered out. We accounted for another 25 or so? <br />
<br />
No casualties on my part. We can do this all day. All day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-79031483461488747782012-10-22T16:18:00.000-07:002012-10-29T06:48:55.479-07:00096: New Year's Day<b>Paterson, January 1st, 2001</b><br />
<br />
We need Moon-Pie back, the Serious Six plowing down Broadway doesn't have the same ring as the Magnificent Seven. Hizzoner had some serious strength blocking the road. Twenty men behind impromptu barricades and two squads of mech infantry in tin box M113s. They're all dead or run. <br />
<br />
Root's down, his body looks half-flayed, but the little buggers in his bloodstream have already stopped the leaking. Doc's running on adrenalin and morphine. Only Leo doesn't bear any marks. Tac-nets full of voices. Sounds like a platoon or so of the mayor's men are swinging down 218th Street to cut off our retreat. 1st and 3rd squads are moving down with the Hummer and trucks to chew them over.<br />
<br />
We stash Root's unconscious body away in a maintenance closet and push on.<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Jones</b><br />
<br />
He stares in disbelief at the twin columns of smoke rising on Broadway. Sgt Devlon, the track commander, ratchets the slide on his Mk-19. "Those are catastrophic kills, Major." His voice growls, "My men are dead."<br />
<br />
Jones shakes the fugue away. He works the track's radio, contacting the blocking forces on Seaman and Park Terrace. "Move up to 218 and swing towards Broadway. We'll box them between you and the positions in Isham." He cranes around to the Sgt standing on the M577s roof. "Pound them hard."<br />
<br />
"Our FO is good. He'll call, I'll kill."<br />
<br />
Survivors of the fighting up Broadway trickle into the park. Their panicked flight takes them right into and through Jones' infantry reserve. Whatever they say, it catches, and the mass of men begin to stream away south. The blocking force on 50th, another 10 men, notice the retreat and, one by one, pull a fade to the west.<br />
<br />
Jones climbs from the track, screaming and waving his pistol, but the men won't be stopped. As he points it at their fleeing backs, Sgt Devlon intervenes. "Major, deal with them later! Carl reports contact in Broadway." <br />
<br />
Grenade explosions and small arms fire sound from the corner of Isham. Jones sprints back to the track. "I'll kill them all!" <br />
<br />
"MILGOV's in line first." Sgt Devlon keys his mike, "Talk to me Carl."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<i><b>Note: </b>Mike volunteered to write this raw POV from Leonid. Thank him for me! More later this in you already read it.</i><br />
<br />
<b>Leonid</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I expect heavy fighting for this engagement, not much of a stealth mission this time, I grab my MAG machine gun. We advance up Broadway, I instruct on bounding overwatch, the Major and I take turns covering the team's advance with our machine guns. She is a solid commander and a quick study, but I could fill volumes with what she doesn't know about combat. <br /><br />We near the park, they have made a little bunker with stacked cars. Hose it with fire keep their heads down, Alpha hits them with a couple grenades. I advance to mop up. Shit! Claymores, I back off a bit, command detonated no tripwires so we must have got them all. A single grenade impacts near the bunker. Moments later, thump thump thump in the distance, that sounds like... "GET DOWN!" they have an automatic grenade launcher. Rounds impact around the team. I yell move to cover get out of the kill zone! I head in the direction of the fire. A couple more bursts of fire as I make it to the corner. I take a quick peek and down about 100m is an APC of some sort with a pintle mounted Mark 19 automatic grenade launcher. I prep a LAW rocket. These things are light and handy but pack nowhere near the range or punch of an RPG. I check one more time then pop around the corner for a quick shot. I see instantly that I hit a track. The APC spins about like a waterbug. The driver abandons it. It is too close to the wall for anymore indirect fire. Mission kill.<br /><br />I look around, Doc had moved this way when the shelling started, I motion her to me. Come on let's see if we can circle around and finish that thing off. We sprint across the street and luckily for us the gunner on the APC had either abandoned it or didn't see us. There are people in the buildings. This is much bigger than we thought. This is an all out frontal assault. <br /><br />We are alongside the church, there are bad guys around the corner, we trade shots. Someone throws a grenade. It lands close enough to be deafening. I catch a couple fragments in the vest, Doc is not so lucky. She says she can get through a window in the front, I cover for her. I see a man round the corner with a pistol in hand, and before I can react he fires. FUCK I'm hit, punched through my vest. What the hell is that? I feel blood inside my vest, it feels like it broke a rib or two. Arms numb, my weapon feels like it weighs 200 kilos. I can't bring it up. He fires again the world spins around me. The sharp crack of an M-16 from above my head snaps me out of it. Doc is in the window. She hits him square but it seems to have little effect beyond taking his attention off me. Rounds whiz by me from behind and I hear the familiar staccato bark of an M-60. I use this opportunity to get my ass around the corner. The window! I heave myself through it. Shout for Doc, don't want to get myself shot by her trigger happy ass now. No answer. I move into the room where she was and she's down, bleeding bad. I struggle to remain conscious and drag her to cover. They'll be looking for us soon. I find a large closet get us inside and close the door. Pull out a first aid kit and stop her bleeding. She's lost a lot of blood. <br /><br />Shouts from outside, they are looking for us. I recognize that voice, now I know why that fuck with the pistol looked familiar. Jones. He is using his mind tricks, he tells them where we are hiding. He wants us alive if possible. That's not going to happen. I have got to take the edge off this pain clear my head. Let's see what the good doctor has in her bag of tricks. The pain is so distracting that I'm having trouble reading this damn Roman alphabet. I think one of these is morphine, shit I just jab both into my leg and wait.<br /><br />I feel the morphine wash over me, I can think now. I'm sorry Doc, but being his prisoner would be bad, very bad. And ten times worse for you being a woman. I have seen how women POWs are treated. Maybe I can bluff our way out but if not, this will finish us for sure. I hope you can forgive me. I get out a couple grenades, pull the pins on both and hold the spoons down, and wait. <br /><br />Someone is moving outside the door. He calls me by name. Tells me to open the door and come out. I tell him I can't my hands are full, you open the door. He does, slowly. He's young, practically a kid. I tell him go on shoot me bitch and we will all die. I'm not sure if he even heard me, he was fixated on the grenades in my hands. Finally he calls out grenade and closed the door. I think they are going to wait for me to get tired and drop them. Or from the way I probably look, wait for me to bleed out.<br /><br />We now have a chance to get out. I carefully put the pin back in one grenade and secure it. This is a good heavy wooden door. No sheep's wool or children's tears here. I let the spoon go, open the door a crack and toss the grenade out. It cooked long enough that it may have gone off in the air. The blast rattles the hinges on the door. I open it, two men down. Good. I throw Doc over my shoulder and head for the window. I drop her through and follow. They must have manned that grenade launcher again, a burst of grenades goes right over my head, impacting harmlessly somewhere down the block. I see Kat and Eddie down the street, they are trying to get to us. Eddie starts my way before I can wave him off and a single shot rings out and his helmet goes flying. Eddie is down. Kat directs fire where she thinks the shot came from while I move as best as I can while carrying the doctor. We make it to cover. <br /><br />I tell Kat, we need to pull back, there are at least fifty more back there. And Jones is there leading.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">-------------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<b>Paterson</b><br />
<b></b><br />
Ed's body jerks one more time as the thrown smoke pops. Damned sniper's making sure of his kill. I make my way to him and haul is limp form, fireman's carry, onto my back. I can feel the shrapnel shifting inside me through the morphine. I'm dead if it works it's way into an artery. Or maybe not. <br />
<br />
The sound of heavy combat echoes from the north. My men are vets. They'll be chewing up these half-trained bully boys of Hizzoner's. We need to extract ourselves.<br />
<br />
Leo's hauling Doc. I've got Ed. Alphabit takes point. I think he's the only one of us not running on opiates. We're a block away when we hear the trucks and another track.<br />
<br />
I order us off the road into the shattered frontage of an office building. "Leo, is that the track from the park?"<br />
<br />
"<i>Nyet</i>, LAW took the track and forward wheel. It's not moving." <br />
<br />
"Great, they got fucking more. Alpha, shift Doc and Ed to the back of this building. Leo, up top, we're going to improvise."<br />
<br />
I've had the joy of emplacing my share of mines. Wish I had a few of the big bastards now. We've got four of the M72 LAWs between us. We'll ambush from the roof, four painful floors up, where's my elevator.<br />
<br />
From the roof we can hear two sources of diesel engines coughing their way north. Sounds as if they split their convoy into two lines of approach. One's way west, probably on Seaman or Indian road, the others pushing up Broadway accompanied by the squeal of tracks.<br />
<br />
I feel like long hours pass, but it can't be more than minutes, before the first truck lurch into view. Another follows no more than 30 feet behind. Then a tank, a fucking tank, big gun, turret, and everything. "Leo, I don't want it anymore." We prep our tubes and set them beside us. "We'll fire when the tank is right below. It's your target. I'll take the lead truck. Then I'll get the second. Your call with the last LAW. Hit the tank again if it needs it or get the truck behind."<br />
<br />
"And then?"<br />
<br />
"Frags down the line. Then we run."<br />
<br />
He shares a grim pained grin.<br />
<br />
The trucks, as expected, are packed with troops. Hizzoner must not have enough functioning transport to haul all the men for this op at once. I don't have any pity left in me as I stand and fire. The LAW spears down through the cab killing the driver and shattering the fuel tanks below him. Flaming fuel splashes everywhere. The men, now torches, flail wildly. The slap of concussion and as the tank's turret lifts away tells me Leo's down his duty. The second truck has swerved and stopped as I bring the second LAW on target. It strikes the bed of the cargo area, or maybe one of the men, turning the troop carriage into a shrapnel filled hell. A handful of survivors stagger out and eat the first grenade.<br />
<br />
Leo and I lob the remaining frags down the street where the few trucks left have pulled over and begun deploying their squads. We don't stay to look for results. Down the stairs, shoulder our wounded and out the back. It'll take them time to reorganize their survivors and even more to get the courage to advance. We take advantage of it.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Hizzoner's men are packing more than small arms. On the corner of 218 and Broadway one of our 3/4 ton trucks burns. The stench of burning flesh is strong again. <br />
<br />
There's four men down in the triage with Sgt Ross and Jana working at a fever pitch. "Doc's out," I tell him before he can ask. <br />
<br />
"Is she stable!"<br />
<br />
"Yes!" He points to a corner, never taking his eyes from his work.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
George is coordinating from my HQ with Aron manning the 'switchboard'. He's got our map of the local area set up and markers placed all along our perimeter. <br />
<br />
"Damn," I take in the situation at a glance, "they've got men all along Broadway and 218. Numbers?"<br />
<br />
"Unknown, but lots. Prisoner we took says they had 12 trucks carrying ten men each, three M113s, and a tank."<br />
<br />
"Scratch their armor. Two of the tin-cans and the tank are confirmed kills. Leo got a mobility kill on the last one. It's not moving without a wrecker. They made two trips with the trucks." <br />
<br />
George winces doing the number in his head. "Reinforced company."<br />
<br />
"We whittled them down a bit." And I let him know just how many.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-61276147821742682272012-10-13T07:03:00.001-07:002012-10-13T07:03:11.691-07:00095: The Other Side<b>December 30th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
"I, spoke, with the 'kin. They are wroght."<br />
<br />
"Do they blame us?"<br />
<br />
"No, they have the scent of your prey. Those who will talk want our participation as a gesture of good-will."<br />
<br />
"More like a distraction."<br />
<br />
"Does it matter?"<br />
<br />
"No, no. What of my men?"<br />
<br />
"Hizzoner is in a agreement with the CIVGOV representatives. A MILGOV presence on the island is undesireable. Hizzoner will get the recognition he craves once they are removed."<br />
<br />
"Naturally, it is as you command."<br />
<br />
"Clumsy to rely on command overmuch. Better to get them to acknowledge your desires as their own. Minimize dissonance. Something you should work on."<br />
<br />
"..."<br />
<br />
"You have two-hundred released to your command. In support you'll receive ten of the trucks, two M113s, a M577 command post, and one of the two Stingrays. If we had artillery, it would be tasked to you as well. Is it enough?"<br />
<br />
"And the 'kin?"<br />
<br />
"Two are headed to the north, along with their herds. You'll have to find your own way to work with them. They are independently minded."<br />
<br />
"More than enough."<br />
<br />
<b>December 31st, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
"I'm Major Jones. Hizzoner says you call me 'Boss'. Our target is the Allen Pavilion of Columbia Hospital. There's a platoon, twenty to thirty, of MILGOV soldiers and a handful of support, occupying the structure. As part of Hizzoner's regocnition as the leader ofMmanhattan, and eventually all of New York City, by the legitimate government of the United States these traitors will be removed."<br />
<br />
"Our intelligence indicates they are armed with rifles, medium machineguns, and a handful of grenade launchers. We'll be moving the first wave of troops up in the trucks to here, Isham Park. You'll secure the approaches along these streets and a screen along Inhill Park. Pay particular attention to Broadway. They have a number of trucks that could lead an assault force while you're setting up."<br />
<br />
"The remaining troops and our tank will proceed up Broadway and marshall in the Sub Yards, here. They're the hammer. You'll form the anvil. Once they're in position you move up to 128th street. Occupy the buildings across from Baker Field and provide a strong base of fire. Under your fire, the tank and mobile infantry elements will proceed to assault Allen." <br />
<br />
"The assult force outnumbers the defenders 3:1. Once they get inside, it'll all be over. Advance to Baker Field and look to pick off any survivors escaping to the west."<br />
<br />
"Tell your men to be on the lookout for these individuals. Major Katriona Paterson is a big, strapping bitch who favors an M60 for a sidearm. She's in charge. Capturing her would be an intelligence coup and Hizzoner is offering 6 months easy living for her alive. Her second is Captain Leonid Padgorny, a Russian defector and Special Forces operative, blonde, scarred, and incredibly deadly. He may know as much as she does, but will be harder to take alive. Four months for the man or team that brings him in. Now, I do have a personal interest in the Ivan and ten gold eagles for the man who brings me him alive. That'll buy you many more months if you want it."<br />
<br />
"These remaining individuals; "Doc" Miller, "Alphabet" McGillifry, Lt George, and Eddie Cutter, are all part of the inner circle. They're not as skilled as the Bitch or Ivan, but they're all European vets. Take them if you can, but Hizoneer isn't offering nearly as much."<br />
<br />
"As for the rest, fuck'em or kill'em. Questions?"<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>January 1st, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
By my god of shadows and pain, this morning is glorious!<br />
<br />
The air has just the right sting to it. I can already scent blood biting into the wind. The rich swirl of emotions, desperation, fear, and a levening of determination, add to the pleasure as the monkey's make their way to a little war. It feeds the parts of me mere food could never hope to. <br />
<br />
By this time tomorrow I'll have her and, maybe, the others. Kilpatrick and I will see what's inside thier muddled heads. Father will have his due. Indeed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-51452928020334076772012-10-10T07:39:00.001-07:002012-10-10T07:39:27.288-07:00094: Shorts<strong>Note: </strong>Been on hiatus for a time. The game is still going, between illnesses and family events! I hope to get to a twice weekely posting schedule. Thanks.<br />
<b></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b>December 25th, 2000</b><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) What is that!</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Doc) Don't be such a baby, George. Taking your blood didn't hurt, did it? I'm just taking some skin...</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) Yeah, ok. OUCH! What the fuck!</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Doc) ...and dermis and subcutaneous fat. Hey, you got any moles or polyps I can take? George. George. Come back here.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------</i><br />
<i></i><br />
(Kat) Eatees, Ed, where'd you pull that from?<br />
<br />
(Ed) I'm a regular nerd. David Brin, <i>Startide Rising</i>, fine book. <br />
<br />
(Kat) I vaguely remember it. <br />
<br />
(Ed) Yeah, we need to raid a library and save some books before the climate kills them. Both reference materials and recreational. Can't let ourselves forget our dreams.<br />
<br />
(Kat) I'll get you right on it after we conquer Manhattan.<br />
<br />
(Ed) Damn, never thought I'd be staring in Budrys' <i>Some Will Not Die.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------</i><br />
<br />
<b>December 26th, 2000 - early</b><br />
<b></b><br />
(Alpha) Why here, Leo? I can't see much.<br />
<br />
(Leo) We see into their cantonment from this street. View is narrow, but we get to see a good chunk of that wall. From other corner we see main administrative building, log their coming and going. <br />
<br />
(Alpha) But there's this other building in the way. Why don't we go up that one and get a good look down on the campus?<br />
<br />
(Leo) Here we're far enough away that if we do get spotted we have time to go down and get out. Over there, if they see us they can get to the ground floor before we do. Do you want to be their guest?<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>December 27th, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
<i>Doc! Doc! ER now!</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Doc) What's ha... Oh, Shit! Get him on the table. Jana! Get the working tray. Ross cut the pants off. Whoever tied off this leg did a good job. Lets see what we got.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>----</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Report.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) Major, Delgado was shot inside Baker Field. He was working on the floods and went up to the box to see about disassembling the controls. Hostile had a shotgun. We engaged three men as they attempted to flee. We wounded one, but they got off the field and into the city. Our response squad is on hand and we're pulling the workers back in.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Good, hold the fort. I'll take the active squad and see if we can track them down.</i><br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
(Alpha) I've got movement on street level. Corner 3.<br />
<br />
(Leo) Show me.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) See there.<br />
<br />
(Leo) <i>Da.</i> What you think?<br />
<br />
(Alpha) Blacks, ragged, no guns visible, improvised weapons. Look like refugees.<br />
<br />
(Leo) They're headed north-west. We'll have to step careful when we exfiltrate. Don't want to trip over them.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) We should snatch one on the way out. Find out what's moving them.<br />
<br />
(Leo) <i>Nyet.</i> No, be like stirring an anthill. Don't need to get bit. Besides, I already know.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) And?<br />
<br />
(Leo) They come from east, Harlem. Other gangs finally finish Disciples. These were their people. Keep the food, kick out the workers you don't need.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) Damn, that's cold.<br />
<br />
(Leo) Yes. Get used to it. Fuck up and it is all our futures.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<i>(Kat) What's the situation?</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Doc) Delgado is stable. Won't loose the leg. Ross and Jana are treating Smith. Minor wounds, he'll be find so long as we keep it clean.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) Perimeter is secure. All work parties in and accounted for.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Good. We nailed all three. You two look over this paperwork we captured. I need to clean the stink off of me.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>------</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) They were sent to that specific location and been on station for a day. Logged our work parties and two of the sentry posts. </i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) You're sure it was an assigned spot.</i><br />
<br />
<i>(George) Yes.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Damn, there's others, aren't there.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) That would be my conclusion. You want recon teams to go to specific sectors so you get a total picture of base activities. </i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) I want another observation team on third. They're to conduct a careful survey of the surrounding building this evening... Damn, Leo took the thermal with him. We'll make do. </i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) I recommend we step up patrols in the surrounding blocks. Look for signs of habitation. If we're lucky they dumped their chamberpot over the side.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Do it.</i><br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>December 29th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
(Kat) Welcome back. It's good to see you both. Tell me some good news.<br />
<br />
(Leo) Our prisoner from our first trip was not telling tales. I logged the movement of hundreds over two days. Worse, Alpha and I confirmed the presence of two armored vehicles. One positive ID of a M113. Not a worry. The other was a tank, but I couldn't ID it. Angular turret, so it is a modern design, but smaller than a Abrams. <br />
<br />
(George) Could be a Stingray. I remember a few being shipped over in '97.<br />
<br />
(Leo) What matter is big gun. This is not a bunker. <br />
<br />
(Kat) Yeah, we got worries here, let me tell you about our visitors.<br />
<br />
-----<br />
<br />
<b>late</b><br />
<br />
(Leo) I love this sight. That building there, top floor. Rat's nest.<br />
<br />
(Kat) Damn we went right by it tracking the first team.<br />
<br />
(Leo) So they disciplined. Or they've staggered the arrival and departure of their teams. <br />
<br />
(Kat) Let's clean them up.<br />
<br />
-------<br />
<br />
<b>much later</b><br />
<br />
(Leo, wearily) They down, here's their logs.<br />
<br />
(Kat) Leo, you three OK? You look like hell.<br />
<br />
(Leo) Nothing rest won't fix.<br />
<br />
(Root) Friendly fire... Leo threw a grenade.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) In a stairwell, against a fire door.<br />
<br />
(Leo) They're nothing but sheet metal and fiber! It should have blown through.<br />
<br />
(Alpha) This is America not Soviet Russia! Fire doors are made from more than sheep's wool and children's tears. <br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>December 30th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
<i>(Leo) We need to get out of this corner of Manhattan. Central Park is too tough a target for us to take without help. Look at our intell. They're strong.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) Not like we can send back to Ft. Dix for reinforcements. We're a shoe-string mission.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) I think he has another idea.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Leo) Too right. We know too little about the parties here. But one name we've heard from the gangs and Hizzoner's men is 'Duke'. They both agree he's down here, Battery park. I propose a diplomatic mission. Enemy of my enemy.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) You're right, we don't know anything. How do we do this without getting killed.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Leo) We take the Zodiac downriver. We can monitor for radio transmissions. If we like what we hear we contact.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(George) And if they're not using radio?</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Leo) Miles of shoreline. We hide the boat. Move in and reconnoiter. Just seeing their civilian and troops will tell much. We decide then; contact or motor back.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Who'd you pick.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Leo) Primary team, you, me, Alpha, Doc, and Root. George can hold down the base. Ed's busy with technical tasks. We need to keep him on it.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Doc) Root and Alphabit aren't cleared for duty yet. Give them two days.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>(Kat) Alright, two days. After the New Year.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i>------------------------------------------------------------------------------</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<b>January 1st, 2000</b><br />
<b></b><br />
(Ed) All posts report manned and ready!<br />
<br />
(Kat) Cut the alarm bell. Tell all posts to maintain battle ready. Kaade, what's the watch report?<br />
<br />
(Kaade) Just listen. Hear that? Diesel and tracks. <br />
<br />
(Kat) Yeah. Leo, get the LAWs from the armory. <br />
<br />
(Kat) Sounds like they've stopped.<br />
<br />
(Kaade) Yes, ma'am. <br />
<br />
(Kat) Isham Park?<br />
<br />
(Kaade) Likely, it's the only cleared zone on that bearing.<br />
<br />
(Kat) George, why'd we let them take our mortars again?<br />
<br />
(George) Because the German's needed them.<br />
<br />
(Kat) Get me some Germans. I need them back! Leo pass those out, two each.<br />
<br />
(Leo) We hunting?<br />
<br />
(Kat) Get them before they get here. We'll take the group. Head down Broadway, hit the corner of Isham, roll them up before they know what's happening. And Leo?<br />
<br />
(Leo) Yes, Kat?<br />
<br />
(Kat) How about you get me another tank?<br />
<br />
(Leo) ***Grin***Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-33465333212257017342012-09-09T17:19:00.001-07:002012-09-11T17:03:44.866-07:00093: Post-Mortum, Slicing Facts<b>Paterson, December 25th, 2012</b><br />
<br />
Late evening. Sun's long down and the eight of us sit, washed out, under fluorescent lights in a semi-private ward just off of the dissection site. We've got the bed pushed away and a folding table set up. The special six, George, and Sgt. Ross. Doc and Ross take turns spelling out the technical details. I can see Leo and Alpha have lost the thread some time ago. Leo's actively fighting off a nap. George scribbles notes, or questions, for later. Ed, who's already heard it all, doodles. I wish we had some coffee left.<br />
<br />
Presentation over, I open the table to questions and discussion. The boys look nervously at each other. None of them want to be first. <br />
<br />
George, I'm not surprised, runs tired hands through thinning brown hair and sighs, "Doc, Kat, Ross, that's good work. But what does it mean? Straight-up, no-bullshit, plain English."<br />
<br />
I sit back in the chair. Take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Are you asking for me to translate the terminology or for conclusions?"<br />
<br />
Leo interjects, "Translate."<br />
<br />
George glances at him, "I've got my own conclusions, I want to hear yours."<br />
<br />
"I not need conclusions. It is clear they are weapons. Tell me how to kill better. Now, they like tank on two feet. Where do I shoot them to make them stay down?"<br />
<br />
"Let me answer Leo first," I tell George. "Leo, here doesn't appear to be a one shot kill zone. The skin is thick, tough, and has anti-ballistic properties." Leo nods in understanding. "Underneath that skin, the muscles are also dense and the ribs run all the way down the torso. They're much thicker than a human's and denser, further protecting vital organs. Those organs appear in groups of four, two on each side, one high and one low. The "brain" is center of mass and deep in the body, but there are additional nerve centers in the head." I shrug. "A vulnerable spot might, might be the middle of the back, you've a lot less meat to dig through to get to it."<br />
<br />
"Ah, so, the answer is no."<br />
<br />
"Pretty much do as we've been doing. It is very hard to kill but enough damage <b>will</b> take it down. Personally, I would recommend doing more damage even after it stops moving. If you have the time, follow Alphabit's example, take it's head off and cut through it's spine in a couple more places. It will heal damage anyone would think would have been fatal."<br />
<br />
I spread my arms wide and shrug. "Wish I had a better answer."<br />
<br />
"I need a bigger gun."<br />
<br />
"Get me a tank, Leo. Any other questions about the autopsy."<br />
<br />
Alphabit stops petting Rex, raises his hand like he's in school. I shoot him a go-ahead. "The blood."<br />
<br />
"Right, the blood." I suppress a shudder. "I'm going to digress for a moment and start with the mouth. The structure is designed to sink the fangs in deep and hold on while the inner teeth masticate the surface tissue. As we've seen, this going to result in two deep puncture wounds and a broad, bloody central wound. There should be much bleeding. From the lack of blood at the site of killings I believe it drank it down. Even so, it's digestion system is strange. There is no stomach - there is just a long tube from the end of the trunk to down near the bottom of the body that ended in a little pouch. It could not hold the amount to fluid in a human body. Doc believes the esophageal, I mean tube's, lining is permeable to red blood cells and they transit straight into the being's bloodstream."<br />
<br />
"Now, it gets technical. Instead of regular blood, when you look under a microscope you find these hairy black objects and, in this case, a lot of human blood cells from multiple different people surrounding it. That's why we received contradictory typing results. There's also shreds of cellular material in the bloodstream and secreted onto the skin. It subsists on the blood and sweats out the residue. It may regurgitate waste as well. How much blood it regularly consumes or how often, I don't know. But from our casualties, it takes a lot. More?"<br />
<br />
Alphabit's returned to stroking Rex. "No, no need."<br />
<br />
"Any others? No. Well then, I have conclusions, but I want to hear your input first. Give me your honest appraisal and recommendations. Rank, bottom to top. Eddie, you're first."<br />
<br />
"I should have taken that promotion. Ok, cryptid or Eatee, not sure which."<br />
<br />
"Go on."<br />
<br />
"For cryptid, the ability to feed on humans implies it has always been here. The influence it has on most people's perceptions also tells me it evolved with us as prey. If the population is small, then the war's driven it into view. We've done a damn fine job of cutting down the food supply. Thousands of people disappeared in the US alone each year. How many fed them?"<br />
<br />
"For Eatees, extra-terrestrials, it's layout is basic humanoid, but organs, blood, and other details are way, way out there. Less likely is how an alien could subsist on terrestrials. Maybe there isn't that much difference in life-bearing biospheres. Of maybe just Clarke's Law."<br />
<br />
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." I provide. "What technology?"<br />
<br />
"It remade itself for our environment and commonly available food supply. The beast is the tech. I prefer it being a cryptid myself. Less problems that way. In either case, track them down and kill them with fire. They're dangerous."<br />
<br />
"Rutkowski?"<br />
<br />
His eyes are hard. "You know already. They're from Hell. We need to find them and send them back." The 'you need to stop wasting time' goes unsaid.<br />
<br />
"Ross, how about you?"<br />
<br />
He smiles grimly and laughs, "As of now, I'm lining my helmet with tinfoil. Couldn't hurt, right? I've no opinion on who they are, how they got here, or anything like that. We need a live one so we can find a way to block the hoo-doo it do. Then we kill them where ever we find them. I want them extinct."<br />
<br />
"Alphabit?"<br />
<br />
He gives everyone a serious stare before starting. "<i>Dearg-due. </i>My Gran was full of tales. The <i>Dearg-due</i> was supposed to be a woman who came and took the young men. Later they were found drained of their blood. This thing can look like whatever it wants; an angel, Baron Czarny, whatever the watch let approach before they died. It's a monster, <i>Dearg-due.</i>"<br />
<br />
He falls silent. Rex climbs up and butts him under the chin. He goes back to stroking.<br />
<br />
"George? You?"<br />
<br />
"I 'spoke' with Tom earlier today. He wrote that Tim isn't nearly as verbal as he used to be and Eileen barely looks at the books we left. It could be shock, but they've been animated with him, just less verbal. They've shared some about the thing with him, they call it their 'special friend', and it was a 'figure of light' that warned them of the colored monsters that would be coming. It is the same pattern as we had in Warsaw. I'll bet a weeks pay that if we could get one of the 'dements' to talk he'd tell us the same thing."<br />
<br />
"I've been in some serious shit before and I'm not ashamed to admit this fucking scares me. Two continents, similar creatures, similar infiltrations of survivor communities. And we know damn all about their numbers, organization, and other capabilities. We need to find the gold and GTFO ASAP. If we encounter another one of these things I'd recommend forgetting the gold."<br />
<br />
"Is that all George?"<br />
<br />
"I've got plenty, but I'll limit it to two more so we can get some sleep. One, Jones appears to possess similar capabilities. We run into him, or another like him, we need to grab him quick. Hell, he may have intel on these things that we can wring out of him. Two, do you have any clue as to how to spread your immunity? Because having thirty men who can see would go a long way to evening the odds."<br />
<br />
"I'm in agreement about Jones or his brother. And to your second point, no, but would you mind donating some blood?"<br />
<br />
"Hmmmm?"<br />
<br />
"Or we give you transfusion," Leo barks, "see if it clots in your veins or not."<br />
<br />
"Leo!"<br />
<br />
"Samples. Sure. Leo, you can keep your Ivan blood away from me." George slaps the inside of his elbow, "These veins bleed red, white, and blue!"<br />
<br />
Alpha grins, "That'd be a sight. Technicolor!"<br />
<br />
"Enough boys, enough! Leo, since you're so eager to contribute. What's your thoughts."<br />
<br />
"Does he have one to share?" snaps George.<br />
<br />
"Enough."<br />
<br />
"<i>Da, </i>is weapon. All know Soviet biological and psychic programs very advanced. This is the poisoned fruit. Maybe they were deployed by submarine to the coasts. Maybe they escaped from lab after war starts. Doc didn't find any balls. Maybe they cannot breed. Would be a natural precaution to build into them. We kill them as we find them and we outlive them. Meantime, we hope to find our friend Jones. I bet he end product of Soviet labs as well. Put him to the question, he'll sing. Our little KGB bird." Leo smiles and it isn't remotely pleasant.<br />
<br />
"Doc, please?"<br />
<br />
"We've talked about this, but I'm going to say it again. This speculation isn't getting us anywhere. We need to take the next one alive. We've heard them talk. Adequate negative reinforcement will make it talk again. If it doesn't talk, it can provide other answers. I know you think it is too dangerous, but we can isolate it in here or in another building if needed."<br />
<br />
Sigh. "Thank you, Doctor."<br />
<br />
"That leaves me. This is what I believe based on the evidence to date. It could not have come from earth. The internal layout is too different from any creature I can recall. It is very durable, hard to kill, and self-repairing to a fair-the-well. We don't know how it messes with human's minds or why it wants to, but that capability is not one found in any higher vertebrates. We don't know why they are here, or what they really want. Although they may work with some people for a while, Root can attest to how that would work out. They're a clear and present danger and, unfortunately, an outside context problem."<br />
<br />
I let them digest my declaration. I get blank looks from Leo, Root, Ross, and Doc. Ed explains, "She means this is a problem we could not have foreseen and may not have the capability to deal with in a meaningful way. Think Aztecs vs Spaniards."<br />
<br />
"Right. Now, the group of us seem to have a higher resistance to it than most other people. With the capabilities of this facility we have a chance to work on it. Doc and I have some tentative courses of action, seeing if we can culture the bits in our blood and how they interact with uninfected tissue. George, you're our donor since you do match Leo. I want us to keep this on the QT."<br />
<br />
Affirmatives all around. <br />
<br />
"Doc and I are going to be working on this the next few days. We don't have the best research tools. A gas spec would be great, but we can do a great deal of work with the basic chemicals left in the labs. George, Ed., I want you to work on the exterior defenses. These things are light sensitive. See if we can get the athletic fields halogen flood lamps to function and mount them over the edges of the roof so we can light up the immediate exterior. Leo, you've been pushing to recon down south and observe Hizzoner's territory. How many days and men do you want?"<br />
<br />
"Four days, one more to swap sleep schedules."<br />
<br />
"I'll go," volunteers Alphabit.<br />
<br />
"Brief your subordinate and you can go."<br />
<br />
"Thanks, I need to stretch my legs."<br />
<br />
"Final instructions. We're going to maintain the buddy system we developed. Tell them to keep an eye out and not worry about reporting any oddities with themselves or others. We know the monsters are real." Once again they nod.<br />
<br />
Good, George and Ed, stay here. Leo, let me know before you leave. You're dismissed."<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-45422542141533320662012-08-31T06:11:00.000-07:002012-08-31T06:11:27.993-07:00092: Bloody to the Elbow, a Post-MortemItems in <i>italics</i> are not entered into the official record. Unattributed quotes belong to Ed.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Doc- December 25th, 2000. Time is 10:30. Major Alexandria Miller, presiding physician. Assisting are Major Katriona Paterson and Sergeant Bernard Ross. <i>You getting this Ed?</i><br />
<br />
<i>Scribbling like a pre-schooler. </i><br />
<i>I mean, yes ma'am</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Subject arrived naked with more than 60% off the body covered with sewer muck and multiple puncture wounds. Wounds have been cataloged, reference the Firearms Wound Chart for details. Subject has been cleaned. No distinctive marks, scarring, or tattooing is noted.<br />
<br />
<i>Kat- I wouldn't say no distinctive marks.</i><br />
<i>Doc- Wait for it, those are gross physical abnormalities.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Physical measurements. Height 5 foot 2 inches. Torso circumstance 30 inches. Weight 312 pounds. Rigor is markedly advanced. Time of death is established by reports as 21:44 of December 24th.<br />
<br />
<i>He's heavy and he's not my brother.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- This subject is humanoid in appearance; two arms, two legs, one head, upright stance. Skin is a black grey in color and rough to the touch. No visible lividity. No visible hair. Arms and legs are equal in length. Reports from the combat one indicate it is capable of a quadrupedal gait. Hands and feet end in four clawed digits. The outer digits of the hand are opposable. Outer hand digits retract. Interior claws are longer and do not. See here, the interior claws are fused to the finger bones. These are reinforced. The exterior ones are not. All foot claws are fixed as well. Samples have been taken from the claws and are pending further tests. Torso contains no orifices or visible sexual organs.<br />
<br />
Doc- Head is smaller than expected for a creature of this size. Two eyes, no visible ears, or nasal passage. Each eye measures 2 inches in diameter. Lower half of the head anchors a tenticular proboscis, length 15 inches. The proboscis terminates in two fangs, 2 and 3/4 inches long, opposing a toothed orifice, diameter 3 inches even. Tactile exam of the head detects three soft spots. One at the crown, yields to pressure. Shifting materials can be felt inside the skin. The other two spots, on the side of the head and 1.5 inches round, are composed of a softer material. Light hairy fibers, like down, are detectable in the area. Might be ear analogs.<br />
<br />
<i>Doc- Kat, Ross, lift it up so I can get the block under the back.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Y incision complete. Ribs extend much further down than expected almost to the pelvic structure. Missing sternum. Hand me the bone saw, please.<br />
<br />
<i>Doc- Ross, take this over. Damn they're strong.</i><br />
<i>Ross- Done</i><br />
<i>Doc- Kat, Ross take the ends and crack him open.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Good, body cavity is open after some work. 'Rib' thickness is as expected from a human subject. Color is a light gray. Cross section shows a very thick compact bone layer and small trabecular bone section. Opposite ratio of that found in most vertebrates. <i>Surprise, </i>Corretion on sternum. Subject appears to have two, left and right, some 6 inches apart. Material is cartilaginous, not bony.<br />
<br />
<i>Doc- Hehe, now for the fun part. Cataloging the organs!</i><br />
<i>Kat- Only you, only you.</i><br />
<i>Doc- I'm special. And he's dead. Haha.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- I'm stumped. What the hell do I call this, and this, and this. Fuck it. Ed, make a note of locations and observations as I pull them. Kat, run the weights. Ross, get a slice off each one for further testing and then bag and tag.<br />
<br />
<i>many pulls later</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Observations; subject has multiple redundant organs. Everything pulled till now comes in fours. Weights are high for the size as well. I have found lung analogs off of the esophageal tract. I have found no stomach analog. The track terminates in the lower torso and is thick with blood vessels all the way down. The major blood vessels are sheathed in muscle tissue. No apparent heart analogue visualized. Given the sheathing of the blood vessels in muscle my hypothesis is it uses a peristaltic wave to pump blood, therefore I would not expect a measurable pulse.<br />
<br />
<i>Can't stake him then? How about garlic?</i><br />
<i>Kat- I'll ask the next one.</i><br />
<i>Doc- Don't jinx us.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Near the mid-length of the spine, in the torso, is what appears to be the brain. Quad lobes, but only one, which is a difference. It is the terminus for several major nerve bundles and attaches to the column. <br />
<br />
<i>You need to shoot him in the back. Sneak up and stake him. Yarg!</i><br />
<i>Kat- Ed.</i><br />
<br />
Doc- Moving to the head/neck region. The neck is short, thick, and heavily muscled. Vertical mobility is strong. The head can shift to support vision during a quadrupedal gait. Horizontal mobility is weak. Bastard can't look over his own shoulder. Let's take the cap off the skull.<br />
<br />
Doc- More surprises. Bone on the skull is exceptionally thick. Four smaller nerve junctions are present. One each behind the eyes, one behind the proboscis anchor, and one near the base of the skull by the spinal terminus. Speculation on my part, maybe these serve an early processing function to prevent reaction lag to the main brain? <br />
<br />
Kat- Once we get slices under the microscope we'll have a better idea.<br />
<br />
Doc- True.<br />
<br />
Doc- This concludes the gross physical autopsy. Ross, after lunch I want you to get some help and skin the corpse. We should be able to get 2 or 3 sets of inserts off of it. After they finish, you and Ed need to sketch out the muscle structure and chop it up. <br />
<br />
<i>Kat- Alphabit's begging me for the bones when you're done.</i><br />
<i>Doc- Why?</i><br />
<i>Kat- Figures he can set it up Roman-style on a pole. Hell of a banner.</i><br />
<i>Doc- Ha, and you call me mad... Mad I say!</i><br />
<i> ...Never to your face.</i><br />
<i>Doc- Liar. Kat and I will be examining slides while you work on our subject. let me know if you have any questions. Get yourself something to eat.</i> <br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
"Kat, this is the damnedest thing."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"The blood samples. Ross tried typing them. He got an actual result on the first, so he ran another pair to double check because he'd expected no actual result. He got a null result and a completely different type on the third. Now look at this." Doc steps away from the microscope.<br />
<br />
"Well I'll be damned."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, what do you think you're seeing?"<br />
<br />
"A whole lot of hairy black things surrounded by red blood cells. These are human you think?"<br />
<br />
"They sure look like typical human erythrocytes. You can also see shreds of cellular material on some of the hairy balls. Might be waste product. The hairy things seem to have penetrated cell walls and to be carrying them along. We'll know more when we centrifuge a sample, but I bet the fluid medium is preventing the different types from reacting. We'll have to play with it."<br />
<br />
"Play, nice choice of words."<br />
<br />
"Waste not, want not." Doc grins. "Now, take a look at these samples. These were taken from scabbed areas. The erythrocytes are showing typical behavior for exposure to air, but the hairy cells, ah-ha! They've dropped the erythrocytes and linked together. The matrix appears much stronger than a fibrin-fibronectin clot and may well replace the collagen deposition in deep wound healing. We'll need a live subject to see it in action!"<br />
<br />
"Not likely. Unless we can find a way to neutralize the 'influence' it shows we can't keep one around."<br />
<br />
"Awwww, you're stepping on science."<br />
<br />
"With jack boots. What else you got for me."<br />
<br />
"There's more red blood cells in the terminal pouch in the esophageal tract and cellular remains in surface deposits. I'm speculating that it secretes waste product directly onto the skin. The esiogageal lining must be permeable to erythrocytes given they're present in the blood stream. Maybe we can play with that as well. See if it would make a good filter. God knows we're not getting from the Quarter Master."<br />
<br />
"And will it be good to eat?"<br />
<br />
"Your sarcasm is noted commander major. I'm trying to be practical."<br />
<br />
"Between you and me, this thing freaks me out. Fast, smart, and more than willing to engage in human predation. It is a major threat. Don't forget the Tom's family."<br />
<br />
"Oh!" Doc smacks her head, "I completely forgot! I got a clue as to what's going on with Eileen and lil' Timmy. After lunch I went over to examine them. They've been freaking out every time they see one of us and I figured out what us is. It's the uniform!"<br />
<br />
"How'd you get that out of them?"<br />
<br />
"When we subdued them, the trip home, their delousing, and medical examination they fought, but when Jana's been treating them they're fine. When I checked on them I was wearing a white coat. They were calm for the entire time. Before I left I took the coat off and they started fighting their restraints. Mottled monsters, woodland camouflage. It's all in their head. We can work on this. Can you recruit me a shrink?"<br />
<br />
"I'll let you know if one turns up. Now, got any answers on how it does the hoo-doo?"<br />
<br />
"No. The best I can tell you is that there are thick layers of tissue beneath the skin on the cranium, beside the spine, and across the torso. It is resembles nerve tissue and connects to the spinal column. It is all out of proportion for sensory nerves, so I suspect this is the transmission source, but it is just a supposition. I really need a..."<br />
<br />
"LIVE subject. I know."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, yeah..."<br />
<br />
"I'll leave you to get back to this. I have to push papers and press palms. We'll get together with the command staff after supper. Do a complete briefing then."<br />
<br />
"Later, Kat."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-2273667183251386552012-08-18T17:54:00.002-07:002012-08-20T08:32:45.396-07:00091: Christmas Morn<b>Paterson, December 25th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
Rutkowski radioed a request for pick-up as we sat in the marina. Eileen and little Tim (<i>God bless us every one!</i>) are bound on the floor. They screech and struggle every time they look at us. That thing had them too long. After forcing sedatives down them, Doc's keeping busy tending to our cuts and bruises. I've got a lovely set blossoming across my gut. It hit hard. Both Leo and I sport a number of cuts from flying cement chips as well. I had the additional joy of digging an expended 7.62 bullet from my vest. Ricochets.<br />
<br />
Once our truck and Hummer arrive we retrieve Tom-2 from his nest up on the toll plaza. He tucks in with his wife and son. They've settled, but I can see the clouded fear in their eyes as they watch us. Too long.<br />
<br />
At Columbia Doc hands off the family to Ross and Jana. The corpse is put in isolation in a locked room. Ed and 'bit can take turns standing guard. I'm sure it is dead, but so was the Baron. I tell George we'll debrief in the morning. We take the time to clean ourselves up before getting a well earned rest. <br />
<br />
George wakes us for breakfast. There's a excitement at the meal. Words gotten around to the men that the killer's been taken care of and the kids. Oh, the kids. George tells me that Dewayne and Sgt Koons took turns reading Christmas stories to them last night. The older ones remember Christmas gifts. Pity we couldn't scare up a Santa costume.<br />
<br />
Just about everyone not on watch steps into the entry hall. Leo's Christmas tree has a small pile of shapes below it, two for each of the children. Wrapping paper wasn't that hard to find. One of the last things you'd evacuate with. Dewayne and J-boy do the honors calling names one at a time and handing out gifts. Bears, dolls, trucks, and whatever else the parents felt should be repurposed from pediatrics. The older ones get a gift first and how how it's done. The littlest need some help.<br />
<br />
I'm not the only one who tears up while beaming. Happiness is bittersweet. This is the way it was and should still be. I'm going to do my best to make it so.<br />
<br />
After the last present is unwrapped I call the gathering around. I tell them today is a day of rest and reflection. All duties, except watch and KP, are suspended. Enjoy it, we'll dig back in tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Except for us, we've got work to do still.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Each of the squads gets called in. Doc shows off the corpse of the thing; <i>Zver</i>, demon, alien, or monster. I don't care what you call it. It dies just like anything else to bullet or club. I do warn them, based on our limited understanding of how it works, to always travel in groups and watch their behavior. It is blindingly fast ambush hunter and seems to have a hypnotic quality. Report any unusual feelings of fatigue or depression. Ha, right! Who isn't tired or depressed.<br />
<br />
After the men we do the same to the adult civilians. They get an edited version. This thing killed our men. We don't know what it is, but we got it. Report any unusual sightings or occurrences to the watch. Don't panic the children. While we don't know what it is or where it came from, but it was alone. Now it is D E A D, dead.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, they don't take it very hard. A few give their own tales of half-glimpsed shadows and strange killings since the exchanges. None of them have anything but ghost stories from before than. Curious, maybe Leo is right about his escaped biological terror weapon?<br />
<br />
After the show-and-tell. Doc and I, with Ross and Jana to assist, get down to the brute work of taking it apart. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-315535588528906752012-08-17T04:54:00.000-07:002012-08-17T04:54:24.769-07:00090: Hunter's Hunted<b>Night</b><br />
<br />
One leaves the shelter by the water. It will see what the seeder has seen tonight. It is pleased each night it is still there and alive. The unshriven have curious attachments.<br />
<br />
The breeder and cub are left behind. Shriving is long work, but the cub responds well. The breeder less so, but they now see One as the friend and the mottled ones as foes. Betterment will take many, many nights.<br />
<br />
One takes the route between water and woods swiftly. As it nears the place of two waters it slows and creeps. Senses reach out. There is the numb sleeping of the seeder, asleep. Careful motion through the woods senses out in a net. And there is something else that should not be there.<br />
<br />
Five more quicksilver minds, watching, waiting. Dim? One stops. <br />
<br />
Yes, it is hard to localize, but there they are. Beyond the stone road and shelters in the wood edge. They take a good place to watch One's tool. Oh, delicious anticipation!<br />
<br />
One withdraws. Back track to where the land folds. No watchers here. Cross the stone road and take a long circle behind. Slow creep in crisp air.<br />
<br />
The prey seeks to hunt. They lie in ambush under slippery hides and snow with their weapons, one to the south of the seeder's shelter. The others lie in an arc to the north. The southern hunter is isolated. He will be first. One reaches out.<br />
<br />
Strange. The quicksilver thoughts lie just beyond One's reach. It is as if they lay behind the metal grids the builders are so fond of. The claws of One's thought can reach and just touch, but cannot grasp. It can dip, but not shape. This is wrong.<br />
<br />
<i>Whisper on the radio earbud. "Leo to team, I've got a headache."</i><br />
<br />
One drops to a squat. Rests back against a tree. A different approach is warrented. Quicksilver is quick to twist. There are other ways. This prey is no different. Base impulses; eat, sleep, fuck, swirl around and above quicksilver thoughts. Rising above this net. They are primal, but diffuse; weep, fight, flight. Like grasping mud, they squish away. So much easier with the shriven, quicksilver beaten down, no doubts about the properness of them. They just respond.<br />
<br />
<i>"Feeling tired. Trying to shake it off."</i><br />
<br />
One feels pushback. Like night fogs the base looks solid, but slides away. This prey cannot be reached. There are others.<br />
<br />
<i>"It passed. Stay alert."</i><br />
<i>"Check-in."</i><br />
<i>"Leo, here."</i><br />
<i>"Doc. Here."</i><br />
<i>"Root, check."</i><br />
<br />
Four in an arc. Two close together; fundamentally different. The first is dim, but quicksilver swims beneath. The other, small and tightly drawn, One sees gleams of quicksliver deep down. This is a stalker, hunter, killer, much like One. There isn't enough for it to be One. It is a symbiont to the prey. How do they tame a killer? Time for thoughts later.<br />
<br />
Lightly One casts a net over the large prey. Concentrating on tightness One feels the mud gathering together.<br />
<br />
<i>"Kat." Yawn. "Feeling it."</i><br />
<br />
The small hunter stirs beside the large prey. One feels it test the net. It moves beneath the hides. The prey turns with it. Together they look with their night weak eyes at One.<br />
<br />
<i>"Rex is reacting. I can't see it. Must be back in the woods."</i><br />
<i>Leo, "We're both made. Let's go out and get it."</i><br />
<i>"I agree. Form on me."</i><br />
<br />
The prey throw back their hides. Stand with their loud, far reaching claws held ready. The little hunter squalls in the night, stalking forward. One explodes into motion.<br />
<br />
<i>Rex leads us right to where it was. Tracks, widely separated, show it moved off fast. Broken branches show it wasn't that tall, just heavy. They're plain and easy to follow.</i><br />
<br />
The burst takes One far from the hunting prey, but it cannot last. One is made for stalk, sprint, and ambush, not for long chases through cold winter air. Waste stench strong around it One slows to a walk. Back One goes, back to the shelter by the water and weaker minds. The hunting prey will follow. They can kill their own while One retreats under. If they follow One will lose them in the damp mazes.<br />
<br />
<i>The thing made a quarter mile before slowing. The steps come close together as that point and stagger a bit. It is still moving away in a straight line. Dead reckoning leaves us thinking it might be headed towards the Dyckman Street Marina. Irony that our first landing in Manhattan will be it's last.</i><br />
<br />
One clambers over the fence makes straight away for the main building. Breeder and cub, numb and cold, wait for it. Silent screams force orders into their minds. They arm themselves. One watches and waits.<br />
<br />
There, dark shapes stealth against the snow. They are far outside prey-eyes, but show well to One. They circle the shelter. One sends breeder and cub to ambush. Down it will go. Let the prey kill one another.<br />
<br />
In the basement One moves to the inspection hatch set in the floor. It pulls the grate aside and slips in. There One pauses, net thrown wide. It anticipates the burst of pain and suffering to come. It will do much to assuage the chagrin it feels from fleeing from prey.<br />
<br />
The cub falls upon them first. The pain of impact and then being hurdled away. Cub comes up with a knife in hand. Fear and rage send it charging at the monsters that would threaten breeder. Sudden eruption of blinding pain in the gut. Cub falls away.<br />
<br />
Breeder screeches in rage. Club swinging at the leader who hurt her cub. The prey blocks her strike. Shouts incomprehensibly at her.<br />
<br />
<i>"Eileen, stop, Tom sent us!"</i><br />
<br />
Breeder strikes again. A mighty two handed overhead swing that ends at the top of the doorway. Pain runs down her arms. Numb hands drop her club. There is impact as breeder is tackled. She fights on.<br />
<br />
<i>"Leo, help me!"</i><br />
<i>"Pin her, I've got the kid!"</i><br />
<br />
Outside the basement window the small hunter yowls. One of the prey, led by it, send far claws barking through the pane. Stung, but not struck, One drops into the access way.<br />
<br />
<i>"Doc here. It went underground!"</i><br />
<br />
The stone ways are narrow and cramped this near the water. They lead only one way. Hands and feet scrabble against the either side of the access as One bursts the second time this night.<br />
<br />
<i>We're hunched double in the sewer line.</i><br />
<i>"Fuck, look at the sides."</i><br />
<i>Clear marks from scrabbling clawed hands and feet mark the sides a quarter to halfway up the tunnel.</i><br />
<i>"It's moving now, it'll stop soon. Watch for an ambush."</i><br />
<br />
Burst over, One has raced past two tunnel enlargements. Here, the vault arches high above it. There is enough of a lip for it to hide. Far back One hears the angry prey. No more strength to run. One climbs above the entrance passage and waits. Strength enough to fight and if not win then bleed the foe.<br />
<br />
<i>Leo signals halt. Ahead, no more than five feet, the tunnel opens up. He signs, "Ambush ahead." It is a good spot. Beside him Rex thrumms a silent song of rage. Leo has one restraining hand on him. Before Rex can move on Leo grasps him with both hands and lofts him through the widening arch to land, angry and soaked, in the chilly water. </i><br />
<br />
Small killer flies under One. A trembling claw almost lashes out. No, freeze, they suspect.<br />
<br />
<i>Leo grins in the dark. The others know enough to keep silent. He knows it is there. It has to be. He unclips his flash. Click it and toss.</i><br />
<br />
Harsh light strobes over One. The pain from assaulted eyes is kept bottled in. Instinct sends it scrambling from the ambush site to a dark corner. Hide.<br />
<br />
<i>"Flash" Leo whispers. Patterson slaps one into his hand. Back against the wall he pans the bright light around the opposite edge towards the faint sounds he's heard. Rex squalls as he crawls from the water. "I see you."</i><br />
<br />
Huddled in the corner, eyes blinded, One turns other senses outward. Pinned they come for it. Death comes. The light bearer makes room for another to pass. The far claws swing towards him.<br />
<br />
<i>"You're one ugly fuck."</i><br />
<br />
One explodes for the last time springing inside the radius of the claw. Deafening barks sound beside it as One drives into the prey, ripping and tearing into the soft organs. The claws deliver punishing impacts, but don't penetrate the mottled skins. Prey cheats.<br />
<br />
Prey reverses the far claw and strikes. One falls under the blows. Other prey's far claws bark in anger. Pain. Pain. Plead.<br />
<br />
<i>It huddles against the inspection-way. Dark blood drips. It fills the M60 site. Through my head flashes a parade of pleading faces. "No, please, no!" I glimpse one of my men. </i><br />
<br />
<i>"Yes."</i><br />
<br />
One's final screams are overridden by the far claws triumphant growl. The deafening chatter echoes down the sewers. Another scream, unheard by the prey, reverberates much further. <br />
<br />
<i>Kilpatrick, woken from a sound sleep, meets Jones in the corridor. </i><br />
<i>"You heard?" Jones strikes first.</i><br />
<i>"And saw. Your Major is a busy bint."</i><br />
<i>"So?"</i><br />
<i>"You'll have the men you need."</i><br />
<i>"Thank you, sir."</i><br />
<i>"Shut-up and fix this mess. The bloodkin will not be pleased."</i><br />
<br />
Elsewhere other One's turn to the north.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-62973979704248457242012-08-16T05:28:00.000-07:002012-08-16T05:28:01.258-07:00089: Tom 2<b>Paterson, December 24th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
The walk back is just as cold, but more fragrant. He has the scent of dirt and rot about him. More delousing and cleaning. Joys.<br />
<br />
I radio George we're coming in and to have the civies away from the door we'll be using. No need to worry them any more than they are. I leave our latest acquisition in Doc's caring hands. She'll call when he's ready.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------<br />
<br />
"Major, I've got him in restraints. He wouldn't calm down, so I dosed him with a light sedative before conducting my exam."<br />
<br />
"You got him to take a pill?"<br />
<br />
"No, put it up the other way." Ewww. "once it took effect I conducted my exam. Kat, he's not talking because he doesn't have a tongue."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"He's got a ragged and infected stump. From the state of the wound it's no more than three days old. I've started him on a regimen of anti-biotic and pain relief." Her glare dares me to comment on her expenditure of limited resources. This changes things. He's looking more like a victim than a enemy.<br />
<br />
She rubs her forehead. "I haven't cleaned it out yet. He won't want to communicate after I clean and abrade the stump. I have shaved and cleaned him. He's ready when you are."<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------<br />
<br />
We've got him in medical four point restraints in an interior room with the ceiling lights on. Let's them know that civilization is back. Even with the sedatives he tests his bonds and is raggedly breathing. I check with Doc and she nods a go ahead.<br />
<br />
I set an alphabet board on his bed beside his hand. It has the alphabet, numbers, yes, no, and a few other symbols for communicating with patients who are cognizant, but have lost speech. there's a notebook and crayons on the bedside table for later.<br />
<br />
"I'm Major Paterson, US Marines. I'm in command at this facility. Do you understand?" He nods points, YES.<br />
<br />
"What's your name?" T O M<br />
<br />
"Good, we've given you medication for your tongue." He flinches. "And pain relief. Are you still hurting?" YES.<br />
<br />
I pull out the pain chart. "Point at your level of pain." There's a set of faces from smiling to bawling tears. He points at the crying face.<br />
<br />
"You're in the worst pain you've ever felt?" NO.<br />
<br />
Twenty questions. I try to get him to give me a pain level, but he keeps pointing from the crying face and tug at his cuffs.<br />
<br />
"Your cuffs hurt?" NO<br />
<br />
Tears run down his cheeks. G O. N O W. N I G H T.<br />
<br />
"It's still afternoon. You're too sick to let out." P L E A S E. he jerks his arm and makes a shaking motion with his thumb, index, and forefinger together. "You want to write?" YES.<br />
<br />
I place the paper pad beside him. "I'm going to remove your restraint and give you a crayon. Don't try to remove any others or we will lock you back down. Understand?" He nods slowly.<br />
<br />
Yeah, victim for sure. The first think he scribbles is a crude man shaped figure with a long tube for a nose. He makes three stick figures below it. "'Eee," he forces out while pointing at one. "'On, ffff!"<br />
Block letters fill the margins. I WATCH, IT COME NIGHT.<br />
<br />
"You were watching when you saw it come?"<br />
<br />
He points at I WATCH, scribbles FOR ARMY. He points at IT COME, scribbles EAT THEM.<br />
<br />
"You're watching for us." Nods. "If you're not there at night it will kill the two. Your, son and wife?" YES<br />
<br />
I point at the thing figure. "I've killed these things before. I want this one dead too. We'll get them back. Write out everything you remember." He scribbles.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
We live north. Scavange/trade.<br />
<br />
Late, late. Hear man screem.<br />
<br />
Went to him. He hurt. Take him in.<br />
<br />
Wake. cant move. Is IT not him. <br />
<br />
IT tells/shows/screams.<br />
<br />
I watch or IT eat wife/son.<br />
<br />
take me to road. leave me there. I watch.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
As he nears the end Alphabit comes into the room with water and soup. Rex follows at his heels. <br />
<br />
As 'bit sets the meal down Rex leaps up on the bed. He sniffs at the man and settles near the foot to begin grooming. Tom smiles down.<br />
<br />
I try to get him back to the writing while 'bit wheels out a bin full of Tom's rags. As the rank bin rolls past Rex starts and arches while glaring.<br />
<br />
"Donald!"<br />
<br />
"Yes, Major?" <br />
<br />
"Leave that just outside. Stay with it."<br />
<br />
He looks puzzled, but 'yes, ma'ams' me.<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
"He's a little fogy on time, but I think he was grabbed in the wee hours of the 22nd. The same night our people were killed. The thing comes to him at night and questions him about the day's events. It doesn't talk. It screams in his head."<br />
<br />
"Sounds like the Word of God," mutters Root.<br />
<br />
"More like nails on the blackboard. But the point is, it'll be back tonight."<br />
<br />
"Good, I'm going." Root making a statement not a request.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, you, me, Leo, and Doc. Ed, Alphabit you're our backup. Stay here in case it does an end run."<br />
<br />
"Right." and "Yes, ma'am."<br />
<br />
"I don't want to take him, but I think we'll need Tom to lure it out. Doc can you put him to sleep? I don't know if him thinking about us will scare it off or not."<br />
<br />
"Sure can."<br />
<br />
"Good, we'll need to get moving soon. We've got to get there well before dark and prepare our positions. Oh, we're taking Rex too." Questioning looks. Doubting my sanity again?<br />
<br />
"That cat's our early warning system. He twigged to whatever Jones was doing and freaked at the scent on Tom's clothes. The outermost layer had a barely detectable odor, like the reptile house. I'll take him, but he's coming." <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-91090624503885422872012-08-15T16:20:00.000-07:002012-08-15T16:20:28.425-07:00088: The OP<b>Paterson, December 24th</b><br />
<br />
The walk out to Inwood Park and the Henry Hudson Bridge is a bracing change from two days underground. The wind blows off the river from the north bringing a clear, clean scent. The clouds have parted and the sun glitters off the new fallen snow. It is a beautiful afternoon.<br />
<br />
Our OP was set back in the woods with a good view of the bridge. The dugout's cover has been ripped away and the ground trampled. Nothing to find there so we circle out. <br />
<br />
About two hundred feet to the east I find a clean track in a hollow. Maybe a size 8, but deep with four clawed toes. Yeah, more confirmation. The track extends a short way to the east and south before petering out. We're not trailing it home tonight.<br />
<br />
We continue round.<br />
<br />
Doc finds a bloody bird about a hundred feet from the tollbooths on the roadway. She looks the half-eaten carcass over before prodding it. "These look like human tooth marks. And it's warm."<br />
<br />
"Don't look around," Leo murmurs. "We're being watched."<br />
<br />
He points off into the woods to the west. "Follow my arm. Now, look out of the corner of your eye at the middle tollbooth. Do you see him?"<br />
<br />
Easier said than done. "Yeah, I think so. I don't see any weapons."<br />
<br />
"Could be below the window. You two stay here and keep his attention. I'll head west and circle behind."<br />
<br />
"Don't keep us waiting Leo."<br />
<br />
He heads off. Doc and I share a thermos while trying not to stare. Doc tells me she didn't sign on to be a goat.<br />
<br />
"I never signed on Doc. I got drafted."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, right. Me too." <br />
<br />
A masculine screech comes from the tollbooth. Leo reached in from the opposite side and got a handful of rags. The man turned and pummeled wildly. Doc and I break into a sprint.<br />
<br />
Leo's catching fists against his helmet and vest as he gets a solid grip on our watcher. He heaves him from the booth onto the pavement. Breathless he tries to rise as Leo powers into his back crushing him back to the ground. They scuffle briefly before Leo gains a compliance lock on him. I pass over some cord and let Leo finish. I've been deloused enough this week.<br />
<br />
The man's a mess and continues to struggle even while bound. His cries are unintelligible. Not another one. Leo loops another length of cord around his neck and demonstrates his slip knot. He settles. Leo hands me the line.<br />
<br />
"I check the booth."<br />
<br />
We wait. He isn't long. "Got a nest in there. Some bones from birds. No bodily waste. He's only been here a few days I think, week tops."<br />
<br />
"We'll question him at home." I tell them. "Let's go."<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-8898526322980356282012-08-15T06:19:00.000-07:002012-08-15T16:15:39.302-07:00087: a little HUMINT<b>Paterson, December 24th</b><br />
<br />
Working lunch, oat gruel with little bits of meat. I give George a questioning look.<br />
<br />
"Pigeon. Two of our new arrivals have been busy."<br />
<br />
"Better than Rat on a Stick," rumbles Leonid.<br />
<br />
Doc and Alphabit grunt acknowledgement. Root just tucks in. Rex twines beneath the table looking for handouts. I slip him a sliver.<br />
<br />
"Alright," I start around a mouthful of oats. Swallow. "We got two pressing matters. The killings and our new guest."<br />
<br />
"We need to see the OP. Learn what we can," Leo says.<br />
<br />
"Not much there," George answers, "We tramped all over it when they missed their radio contact. I think we'd have killed any chances of finding tracks. That and the snow."<br />
<br />
Leo shrugs, "Still do it. We go, spiral out. Maybe find something farther away. Maybe not. Won't know till we do so."<br />
<br />
"I concur with Leo." I tell the group, "We'll take a hike after this meeting. The bridge isn't more than a mile away. Doc, Leo, and I. 'bit, I need you and Root here to keep an eye on things." Acknowledgements all around.<br />
<br />
"Now, our new friend. Leo and I had a talk with him after wake-up. Leo?"<br />
<br />
"Tom Harisson, former biker turned watchdog for Hizzoner. Came to New York with his friends after the nuclear strikes. He'd heard form relocatees that the city was being evacuated and loot was ripe for the taking. He was eager to answer. Didn't even punch him." Leo smirks.<br />
<br />
"Their strongholds are CUNY, and Central Park with Met Art and the History Museum. They have completely walled them off with rubble constructs like we've seen. He knows there are other outposts in Fordham University, but doesn't know the size or fortifications."<br />
<br />
"There are hundreds under arms in these enclaves and thousands of workers housed outside the walls. I couldn't get any numbers more accurate than that, but given the size of areas controlled we're outnumbered many to one. I don't hold much hope for their quality given what we saw in Central Park."<br />
<br />
"Weapons include civilian long arms, military small arms, and a number of M-60s. They 'inherited' a number of heavy weapons form the 78th. Description sounds like Mk-19s and M2HB. Ammo is scarce all around. They have a number of 2 and 1/2 ton trucks and a few Hummers. No armor that he's aware of. <br />
<br />
"Hizzoner lives in CUNY proper, in the old library building, with his personal guard. Baddest of the bad. They're picked on fighting ability and can be appointed or challenge for entry. Very, Darwinian."<br />
<br />
"Hizzoner also enjoys bloody spectacle. He keeps a dozen or so of the 'demented' on hand. Punishments include fighting one barehanded or being thrown to a group depending on what you did. Says these 'dements' can't talk at all and are completely savage. Yes, Major?"<br />
<br />
"I don't like the prevalence of 'dements'. People don't completely lose language skills this quickly. I'm speculating, but could this be the work of our demon or someone like Jones? Root, did you observe anything like this in Warsaw?"<br />
<br />
"No Major, but who knows what happen after it wins."<br />
<br />
"Sorry Leo, please continue."<br />
<br />
"The workers, it seems, are housed just outside the parks. They're not walled in and have minimal guards. Hizzoner works them to the bone and uses their corpses for fertilizer. I expressed surprise that they didn't just leave. Our prisoner informed me there are small detachments kept in the building. The workers slave all the daylight hours and the streets aren't secure at night. Guards rarely even patrol. The workers are more afraid of what's outside than dieing in the fields."<br />
<br />
"Harisson blames raiders for the south and dements living and hunting from the underground. They don't go outside secured areas. From his answers it was a hard learned lesson. Something to think about."<br />
<br />
"Now, power structures. Hizzoner runs the day-to-day public face of the 'government'. Harisson insists that nothing important happens without Snyder's input. Snyder's described as a hard-ass, ex-army. Without him, Hizzoner wouldn't have got as far as he did."<br />
<br />
"What the man has isn't enough. He wants the whole island, but he's having trouble holding what he has. Harisson is particularly afraid of the Harlem Mau-Maus and the Duke's coalition to the south. There's been raids and skirmishes both ways."<br />
<br />
"Things may change soon. Seems he's been in contact with a delegation from the 'real' government. Some soldier-boys were taken in about two weeks ago and the rumor mill says that they want to make Hizzoner the official head of NYC. Supposedly they've been promised official support in return for a consolidated Manhattan."<br />
<br />
George clears his throat. Leo pauses in his lecture. "I'm sure they aren't with us. This is probably a team from the civilian government. I doubt they have the means to back up their promises, but it would put a veneer of authenticity to Hizzoner."<br />
<br />
"Words won't replace food or guns," Leo counters.<br />
<br />
"Yes," George replies, "but having the 'real' government supporting this asshole will make our own job harder. Perception defines reality. Did he have anything to say about our objectives?"<br />
<br />
"I was saving it for last," Leo tells him with a frown. "He laughed at me. By the time his boys got to town all the jewelry and coin shops had been hit. They get a chain or coin in trade or by scavenging, but there's no easy money in NYC anymore."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-52118584010867966612012-08-13T17:31:00.001-07:002012-08-15T16:20:17.108-07:00086: a short Raid<b>Alphabit, December 23rd, just after midnight</b><br />
<br />
Leo's returned from the wall. He sits on the inspection way and briefs us. "The wall isn't much of a barrier. Three to three point five meters topped with stretches of barbed wire or glass and steel shards. It is all rubble, easy, sloped climb. Watchtowers, 4 to 6 meters high, 700 or so meters apart. Good views of the park during day. Night, not so much. Two men in each of the towers I saw. Four man patrols on intermittent schedule inside. They didn't look like they had night vision gear. No sign of dogs."<br />
<br />
"My plan. We go over the wall near border between barbed wire and glass. If we shift the wire over a meter we have a safe entry and they shouldn't notice it till dawn. We move up the inside of the wall to one of the towers. Take one or both of them prisoner. We egress back at the gap or right over the wall there if we've been found. Question the fuckers back home." He looks at the major, "Well?"<br />
<br />
"Sounds good. You're point."<br />
<br />
"Always."<br />
<br />
The wall's as advertised. Leo makes make the climb easily. Every sound he makes seems amplified. My nerves, the light snow will dampen any slips. He restakes the wire before cutting the endpost and gently settling it back. One by one we make our way over. <br />
<br />
We make our slow, cold way towards the northern watchtower some 300 meters away. Snowfall, cloud cover, and the dark of the moon all conspire to aid us. We're some 25 meters away when ill chance strikes. One of the guards leans over the rail on our side of the tower.<br />
<br />
We freeze, but the Major was in mid-step and stumbles. The guard's night adjusted eyes catch the motion and take in the strange, dark shadows that weren't their before. He drops and shouts.<br />
<br />
Leo and I burst into motion. We're under the tower when the watch's bell begins to peel. He goes straight to the ladder. I kneel, securing the open land of the park to our east. The others, cursing, join me. They take the north and south sectors with Root joining me to the east.<br />
<br />
Leo grunts as he tries to push the tower hatch up. No good. He slides back down the rails, raises his rifle, and gives the plywood hatch a burst. The man bracing it closed shrieks, one long ear scarring peal of pain, until his lungs empty. Leo sets foot to the ladder again.<br />
<br />
The second guard lands not a meter from me. He lands badly going to both knees. I beat Root to him. My rifle meets his shoulder as he rises. His arm distends oddly under his jacket as the should pops out of the socket. He collapses with a whimper.<br />
<br />
The Major's M60 barks to the north. A patrol, approaching at the run, drop to the ground. She works the weapon over their positions keeping them down in folds of ground.<br />
<br />
Root slings his rifle across his chest. "I got", he grunts as he lifts him into a fireman's carry. <br />
<br />
"Prisoner secured!" I cry.<br />
<br />
Major shouts, "Leo, cut us a way out! I'll hold them! Cover me from the top!"<br />
<br />
Leo and Doc make it right up the wall. They grab and cut. They turn their ends away and release so it doesn't lash them as it recoils. The 60 continues to chatter.<br />
<br />
Root makes it only partway up the wall before grunting and sliding back. I join him, grabbing hold of his webbing, and muscling him and his burden up the slope. My hand is warm and slick, black in the dark, as we top the wall..<br />
<br />
Doc and Leo begin to fire. I join them. The patrol's begins blindly firing back at the tower from their shelter as our MG falls silent. The Major almost runs up the slope. <br />
<br />
Her and I join Root at the wall's foot. "Let's go! Alpha, take point!" We're off into the dark.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Either we outstripped any pursuit or they didn't try. We reach the storm sewers and make our way back to the boat. <br />
<br />
The boat's still there, but our spare gear lies scattered over the walkways and deck with their shredding plastic storage bags. The softer gear still bears tooth marks. Doc says they're human. <br />
<br />
The Major doesn't care. It is past time to go.<br />
<br />
We paddle out into the river. The snowfall has stopped. Out in the river sits a ship. It could be one of the River Rats' two masters or someone else's. We don't want any part of it.<br />
<br />
We paddle hard to the north, well out of night vision range, before starting the motor. I've got the tiller. Open her up.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Must be 4:00am when we establish radio contact with base. Lt. George acknowledges our imminent return. I can hear the tension in his voice as he reports they have a situation and he'll brief us upon our return.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------<br />
<br />
We pull right up to the banks behind the Allen pavilion. George and a full squad are awaiting us. The men take the boat in hand. George takes the Major by the arm and hustles us back towards the hospital. Their heads are close together, but I still hear him briefing her. "Three dead. You need to see the bodies. I don't want to prejudice your judgement."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------<br />
<br />
They're bagged in the underground garage. The Major takes the lead in unzipping the morgue bags. Bruce Korenstra, Niel Hampton, and Robert Williams, pale and oddly serene, their bodies each bear one wound; two deep mandible marks flanking a chewed area almost like a lamprey bite. The wounds are over the arteries on the neck. <br />
<br />
Doc takes over asking how long they've been dead. "How long have they been dead, there's no signs of lividity."<br />
<br />
"I know," George answers, "It happened the night you left."<br />
<br />
Eddie stumbles up and silently hands me Rex before tottering off. He looks horrible. <br />
<br />
George sighs, "He's been up since we lost radio contact with our OP. Says he's the only one who can see. Is it what I think it is?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah," the Major's voice rumbles with rage, "Same wounds we saw in Warsaw. We're going to have to find it."<br />
<br />
Root's face lights up, "Kill us a demon."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, kill us a demon."<br />
<br />
"'Bit, Root walk patrol. The rest of you get some sleep. George, wake us halfway to noon. I want these two to get some rest before we head out."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Been walking patrol with Rex. He's out in front crisscrossing the halls and letting me know the way is clear. He's a good cat. I let him lead me back to the underground. <br />
<br />
He looks at me and pads over to Robert's bag. Poor man. I can't imagine how it felt.<br />
<br />
Rex paws at the plastic. I open it up and let Rex say his goodbyes. The man always had a treat at hand for our good luck charm.<br />
<br />
Rex nuzzles his hand and his chin. Trying his best to wake him up I think.<br />
<br />
"That's not normal behavior," says the Major. I hadn't noticed her coming in. Been awake too long.<br />
<br />
I tell her in all seriousness, "We're going to need more cats." Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-16348750434385093452012-08-10T06:43:00.000-07:002012-08-10T06:43:28.578-07:00085: This Public Service AnnouncementConfined Spaces, what you need to know<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.osha.gov/SLTC/confinedspaces/index.html" target="_blank">Civ-Gov - Hazards, Permitting, and Resources </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://rsc.usace.army.mil/Training/Civil-Level-Two/USR-Confined-Space-Awareness" target="_blank">US Army Corps of Engineers S&R - Urban </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.ccohs.ca/oshanswers/hsprograms/confinedspace_intro.html" target="_blank">From our friends on the northern border</a><br />
<br />
That is all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-49810505068873138832012-08-08T16:36:00.000-07:002012-08-13T06:26:37.278-07:00084: and a Night<strong>Alphabit, December 21st, late</strong><br />
<br />
Long time since I've commanded the boat. The Vistula was all the Old Man's. The Hudson is mine. Major Kat, Leo, Doc, Root, and I, we should have taken a sixth for the off side. Still, I work them into the current till we can let that do the work.<br />
<br />
The night is dark. What breaks there are in the clouds show stars and the occasional sliver of the moon. She's waning to New. Christmas this year is on the Dark of the Moon. I doubt any good will come of it. <br />
<br />
The night is cold. Even with our parkas, thermal fatigues, and gloves we feel the bite of the cold wet air. If I close my eyes and inhale the sting of cold salt on my nostrils almost convinces me I'm back on the Irish shore. No wife, no parents, but a passel of cousins behind memorie's door. <br />
<br />
No, I'm better here. There's monsters to hunt.<br />
<br />
Miles later we turn towards shore. Take the paddling slow. Gently dip into the water, a strong stroke, and a quiet withdrawl. I least I do. We should have practiced. Instead I trust to the dark and our night vision gear. No sight of a watchman. Close to the walled banks we come. <br />
<br />
I'm searching for a storm drain. One whose grate is broken or weak. The first two fail our tests. The third, once the lock & chain is wrapped in cloth, yields. A bit of lubricant on the hinges and wrapping muffles the squeal. More than large enough for the boat. <br />
<br />
I amke the boat secure and we climb to the inspection walkways. Major Kat and Leo lead the way deeper in. We'll go as far as we can underground before surfacing. The whole way if we can manage it. We mark our way with knives on the rot clinging to the walls. There are no maps. Dead reckoning.<br />
<br />
The main channels eastward are large. The north south overflow connectors are smaller, but would still take a man. We don't have to worry about rain and flooding. Soon we don't have to worry about the cold. The further in we go the higher the temperature gets. Never comfortable, but above freezing. We unzip and begin to notice with the warmth is a stench; a mix of rot and human waste. Blessed St. Patrick is it ripe.<br />
<br />
Soon we're all wearing clothes over our face to ward it off. Root jokingly suggests using a gas mask. I hope we don't catch anything.<br />
<br />
Hours pass as we tread north and east. Rats and other vermin scatter at our approach. lLeo looks out grates for street signs to navigate by. Damage to the lines turns us around more than once. Kat tells us to keep an eye out for a maintenance room. Damn it all, we're spending the day down here.<br />
<br />
5:12 by my wind-up. We're as close as we can get to the intersection where the ambush occurred. We're deep in Hizzoner's territory. We watch from the street level grates. Half an hour, no patrols.<br />
<br />
Leo levers the manhole, up and out. We climb, single file, and cover until the team finishes surfacing. Leo drops the cover back and brushes snow across it. The road shows signs of foot and wheel traffic. It should go unremarked in the dark. We pad, silent and swift, through the alleyways. That's one lesson we all learned from Poland, silence. <br />
<br />
The buildings around us are damaged. Windows gone right up to the 5th or 6th stories. Once I'd be busy fixing the best or tearing the worst down to foundations. Focus.<br />
<br />
Rarely I see signs of habitation. The tell-tale signs of boarded over window with cloth stuffed in it or fresh waste not yet covered by snow. Here are people. Where are the patrols? We cover blocks snow cruching faintly underfoot. No patrols.<br />
<br />
The ambush site is a complete waste of time. The locals long ago stripped and moved the wrecks. Leo and Kat huddle out of the wind conspiring on our next brilliant act. Off to the south comes the sound of gunfire, spaced single shots and a shotgun's thud, then nothing. We wait. No sounds of vehicles rushing off to investigate or running men securing their perimeter. Where are they?<br />
<br />
Loe briefs us. We're going into one of the apartments we passed on the way up. The lower floor, half sunk into the street, had a covered window. We'll break in and get someone to talk to. He's taking point. This is a good plan for me.<br />
<br />
I hear Leo and Kat coming to the realization that neither of them can pick a lock. Kat will break it and Leo will rush in. I smile as I remember Eddie leaving Krakow with a pillowcase fll of door knobs. He'd grown tired of crowbarring door open. Should have asked for a lesson.<br />
<br />
The door isn't in any way solid. It comes right off. Leo, Kat, then Root secure the apartment. People shout out in fear and surprise; women and a boy. Leo snarls for them to shut up. I cover the front hallway, Doc the back. As they subside into wimpers a babe starts to scream in terror. Again Leo orders them. Scampering movement, frantic hushing, Leo's bark.<br />
<br />
The babe stops. In the silence there sound suppressed sobs. Knuckles whiten on the rifle.<br />
<br />
Kat gives words of reassurance. Faintly, the rythem of a suckling child intersperces her words. <br />
<br />
There's four holed up in this shell, two women, one boy no older than 8, and the babe. Leo heads the interrogation. Kat and him confer in her broken Russian when they finish answering. then on to the next question.<br />
<br />
Hizzoner claims all the land from Riverside to Central Park, CUNY to the Lower West Side. During the day his men walk the streets. They pay their taxes in scavenged goods, sewing, or flesh depending on the collector. Near sunset, Hizzoner's men return to Central Park, Riverside, or CUNY's walls. Others roam the night. Mostly they target Hizzoner's fields or stores. Sometimes they collect the taxes as well. They know little of the men or organization behind Hizzoner, just that some were soldiers or police and others were hard-eyed gangsters or bangers, and they number in the hundreds. The women haven't been to the parks or CUNY since before Hizzoner took over. they don't to get anymore attention then they already have. <br />
<br />
Before we finish Leo asks them what they did before. He answers his own question with an aside in Russian to Kat, "Whores." They answer, one was a bank teller and the other a house wife. Leo will pay for that later, I know. Leo warns them not to tell a soul or he will return and wet the pavement with their blood. We leave as fast as we came.<br />
<br />
Our manhole waits for us. We're deep down by daylight.<br />
<br />
No rest, we turn back east. Leo won the toss with the Major. We'll get near Central Park, see if the mains extend underneath it, before we rest. I'd rather head back to the boat and sleep in the cleaner air. <br />
<br />
Dead reckoning leads us to collapsed mains near the park's borders. Spillovers lead us south to more collapsed mains. Accident or deliberate, I lean towards the latter, the way east is shut off. Soon the air is as well.<br />
<br />
Kat catches it first, realizing the headache and tightness are more than just strain, and orders us to stagger back the way we came. We emerge into good air gaping like fish. The black dots slowly fade from my vision. I tune out the major's lecture about confined spaces and air flow. I know it, forgot to apply it, won't do that again. <br />
<br />
Still, we don't go back to the boat. We go back to a maintenacne room. Better than sleeping on the inspection walkways, but not by much. Leo wants to watch feet go by near the park. Leave him too it. I'm asleep before he steps out.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-46486851911581862562012-08-01T16:52:00.000-07:002012-08-01T16:52:40.188-07:00083: A Day<b>December 21st, 2000 (morning before breakfast)</b><br />
<br />
Everyone not on watch or pulling KP is in the entry hall of Columbia. We've pulled out seats for every one of the soldiers and civilians. There's a small table for Reese Creb and Lt. George. I have a speech podium liberated from one of the lecture halls, thank you teaching hospital, and another small table for Doc and Leo.<br />
<br />
Showtime. <br />
<br />
"By the power granted to me as a commissioned officer in the United States Marine Corps I call this tribunal to order. We are here this morning to determine the status of Reese Crebs, captured while bearing arms against the United States government. Once we have finished reading the case, I will be accepting testimony later in this hearing regarding his culpability and character. If you wish to testify, please raise your hand and wait for myself or one of the other officers to call on you. Major Miller."<br />
<br />
Doc stands and reeads from a short prepared statemnt outlining our first and subsequent contact with Reese. Once she finishes George stands and presents the sorry details of life under the Disciples stressing Reese's age and circumstances. As George said earlier its my dog and pony show. Then the locals get to vent.<br />
<br />
There's a great deal of anger in the room. They've been chaffing under horrible conditions illtle better than slaves. Reese is the only one of them present. I keep control. Everytime they stray off to what Disciples have done I turn it back to what he has done. I keep getting the same story then. yes, he beat them. Yes, he ground them down. Yes, it was always in the presence of an older Disciple.<br />
<br />
Finally, I get to Dwayne's daughter. I have to shut her father down. He doesn't want her to speak. I didn't think he would.<br />
<br />
I can barely hear her speak, but the crowd has gone silent. "You all think we fled because he took me when they made him. He asked and I said yes. After that..." She stops distraught.<br />
<br />
"You don't have to go on." I tell her.<br />
<br />
"I do, it was Mash. And I am damned glad he's dead."<br />
<br />
With that we're done with testimony. Doc, Leo, and I confer to the judgement we already planned.<br />
<br />
"Please stand. Reese Crebs, this tribunal has determined your combatant status is that of a "child soldier" and as such you are not to be charged with rebellion against the US governemnt or treated as a Prisoner of War. I believe you have the capability to grow and become a member of this community. I am instituting a probationary period of two years for you."<br />
<br />
I look over to my 'shills'. "I need a few volunteers to concil and correct this young man by word and example. Are there any volunteers?" Three of my men 'volunteer'. One each; white, hispanic, and black.<br />
<br />
"Reese Crebs, these soldiers will be overseeing your work and training. You will be expected to perform the same labors as they do or learn by observation and example. They have the authority to correct and discipline you. Push-ups and laps are in your future. You will be fed the same as any of my men and civilians in our facility. You will not be expected to work beyond your physical capabilities. Respect and privligies will be extended as thye are earned. To begin with, you will address every person by Sir, Ma'am, or their last name until given permission otherwise."<br />
<br />
"Do you understand, Mr. Crebs?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, ma'am."<br />
<br />
"Mr. Crebs, please report to Sgt Koons before breakfast. This tribunal is adjorned. Let's eat."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>(post breakfast stupor / administrative meeting)</b><br />
<br />
"So, George, what are they saying?"<br />
<br />
"Surprise you didn't just shoot him. Guarded optimism. We're too good to be true."<br />
<br />
"They're right," Leo grumbles. <br />
<br />
We stare at him for a moment. "Go on."<br />
<br />
"What we're doing here isn't part of the mission. It's part to the cover. We're here to find the gold. Once we're done command'll going to pull us out and they'll be back where they started. We can't afford the distraction. We can't tame the island. The mission creep will kill us."<br />
<br />
"Leo, how long do you think it will take to find the gold?"<br />
<br />
"I have no idea. But all the planning for Columbia and opening a med center and taking on refugees isn't speeding us along. We need to go out to the GW bridge and the ambush site. We need to be looking."<br />
<br />
"I don't know how long it will take either. We could be looking for months or years. This place is that big and our target that small. What we're doing here gives us a stable base, support, and, maybe, information. It is advancing our mission. And it helps our countrymen. Your countrymen."<br />
<br />
I give him a moment to chew on that.<br />
<br />
"But you're also right. We need to get back out and looking as soon as possible."<br />
<br />
"I am? I AM."<br />
<br />
"George can handle day to day operations. Ross and Jana can handle medical ops. We'll head out to the GW this afternoon and look it over. We'll discuss heading south again tonight. Now, food, fuel, and ammo."<br />
<br />
Aron opens his notebook. "With the stores you took we'll be good until the shipment arrives fro Ft. Dix in January, but we'll have to scavange, trade, or take additional supplies to get us through that month. We're cutting it close on fuel. The first still is up, but it is a trickle compared to our needs. Griffiths says he'll have a larger model up before New Years. If the numbers he gave me are correct we'll still be short, but our draining of reserves will be far down and give us enough time for a third. He'll need a scrounging expedition for parts for that one. Ammunition is holding steady."<br />
<br />
"I'll request additional food shipments once the first arrives. Otherwise, you're giving me good news."<br />
<br />
"Now about watch schedules..."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
A knock on the door. "Major, we've been contacted on the 'Cloisters' frequency. Zimmerman requests permission to approach."<br />
<br />
"Permission granted. Alphabit, he's your friend. Go down and show him around." Donald lights up. "Don't take his weapon unless he offers it. Tell the watch he's allowed in that way."<br />
<br />
"Yes, Major."<br />
<br />
"Get."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
We talked over and rejected the idea of going back down to Harlem to take the rest of the Disciples stores. They'll have moved them by this time and we need better intelligence before grabbing them. Besides we'd need to truck down there to bring up food in bulk and there's no hiding their presence. <br />
<br />
Alphabit takes a good hour before bringing Staff Sgt (ret) Dan Zimmerman to see me. We have a short sit down. I answer his questions as best I can. He understands the 'sceurity' answer and I get it back fairly often. I can tell he's impressed adn more than a little frustrated at our luck. <br />
<br />
"We thought about combing the Allen Pavilion, but we assumed it was either looted or under new management. Our mistake."<br />
<br />
"Dan, I'm serious about medical sevices. If you have sick or injured bring them up. If they're too badly hurt to transport we'll come get them."<br />
<br />
"And then be in your debt."<br />
<br />
"Sliding scale Dan, sliding scale. You give us what you can afford. If that's a shirt and a shaker of salt so be it. It could be tipping us off about raiders sighted in the area or just pointing refugees in our direction. I've got a task here and helping you is part of it."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, so what are you wanting to know?"<br />
<br />
"Who's the powerhouses. We've heard of the River Rats, Hizzoner, the Duke, and several Harlem gangs, but we don't know squat."<br />
<br />
"I've only been on this side of the island, but I'll ask."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Hot lunch! <br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>(early afternoon)</b><br />
<br />
Back on the road. We're taking a constitutional down to the George Washington bridge. Retired Zimmerman and Jim are coming as far as the Cloisters. He'll talk to his headman for us. We'll see how it develops. <br />
<br />
After we part, we'll give their home a wise berth for politeness, Alphabit tells me Zimmeraman was asking pointed questions about how long we'd been on the island. I know Donald can't lie worth a damn and Zimmerman probably knows too. Seems there's been soldiers sighted about two weeks before we arrived. They were talking census too. No one had been hurt on the Cloisters side, but it hadn't been for lack of trying. Interesting.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
The bridge is a bust. There are the remains of trucks and soldiers, but no information. Trucks have been stripped and sat outside for two years. The men won't tell tales. Leo and I both agree, the violence was sudden and complete. Ambush or betrayal.<br />
<br />
"I am losing faith in the human race."<br />
<br />
"You sill have some?"<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I'll save the battle report for my memoirs. We need to work on our urban combat tactics. Thank the DOD for body armor. Leo took a load of buckshot right on top of his helmet, Rutkowski caught a few 9mm rounds in the chest, and all of us took splinters from an ill-conceived grenade toss (Alphabit). If they'd had grenades we'd have been in a world of hurt.<br />
<br />
Disciples are down another 11. They weren't carrying much in the way of ammo, but the 3 M16s will be a happy addition to my 'militia' plans or I can trade them to the Cloisters. A couple more shotguns, a few pistols, and one nice scoped 30-06 bolt action rifle to round out the take. <br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>(late afternoon)</b><br />
<br />
Leo's right. The George Washington was a bust, but their might be more to see near Central Park. If all else fails we can snatch a local and get answers to the current situation. Never one to wait I've decided we'll inflate the big boat and head downriver after full dark. <br />
<br />
With luck and a bit of sweat we should be able to get into a storm sewer outlet. This is NYC, they'll be large enough for boat and crew. Plans call for making our way via sewers to near the target and then pop up for a look around.<br />
<br />
After briefing George and the squad leaders I'll catch some sleep.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<b></b><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-40954190505814266592012-07-29T16:52:00.001-07:002012-08-01T16:55:06.626-07:00082: Intermission<b>December 20th, evening</b><br />
<br />
<i>The hateful orb has dropped below the skyline. The long shadows of the towers already bring night to the streets. Honest men have long since shut themselves away. In the darkness men bent on murder move. And this One also.</i><br />
<br />
<i>They prey on one another. This is as it should be. Fear and desperation distilled into exquisite suffering. A banquet for the senses they don't posses. This One savors.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Under the streets the dead lie silent by the water. The ones this One has shriven so close to perfection are gone. The harsh smoke of the guns lies with them. This one crosses the kill sharp senses filtering out the familiar tags of the shriven, the sweet call of blood, and the killing smoke. </i><br />
<br />
<i>Those who did this. Their scent is distinct, harsh with chemicals and ripe with health. What One has found can be followed.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Followed out into a long winter's night.</i><br />
<br />
<b>December 22nd, night</b><br />
<br />
<i>They went to ground in the stone and glass edifice. </i><b> </b><i>Many pulses throb in there. Many quicksilver minds think. Too many for this little One.</i><br />
<br />
<i>It watched all through the harsh day. Men worked at their stupid projects of beating wood and moving stone. Some left with a purpose, small groups with sharp metal weapons, to the west. Others returned. As the orb fell below the land another went out. One followed.</i><br />
<br />
<i>They met with another small group. They greeted each other in their fashion. Senseless gabble One had beaten from the shriven. The group One followed settled into hollows dug in the earth. Those who'd been here first left for the stones.</i><br />
<br />
<i>One settled. One cast a fine net over quicksilver minds. Hours sifting, digging, pushing. A man fell asleep. The other two did not notice. Another fell. The last continued to speak in low tones imaging answers</i>. <i>Soon it to slumped to sleep.</i><br />
<br />
<i>One's search gave it faces and harsh garbled names. Five; Major, Ivan, Doc, Donnie, and Root. Five would answer. But first One needs be fed.</i><br />
<br />
<i>A shadow falls on the sleeping men. Then no more. </i><br />
<br />
<b>December 23rd, early morning</b><br />
<br />
"There it is, soldier-boy, River Park."<br />
<br />
<b> </b><br />
"How long to shore?"<br />
<br />
"Never. Harbor Rats aren't welcome here. I'll not risk my crew or ship on Hizzoner's mercy." The captain of the <i>Pioneer</i> leans on the rail. "But then you knew that when you came aboard."<br />
<br />
Jones curses his fate. His only means of transport to the island and the leader's thoughts are malleable as mud. This isn't the missing tooth ache of those he follows. No, this man is entirely natural, a frustrating sport.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I have an inflatable."<br />
<br />
"Best get in it. We got places to go."<br />
<br />
<b>December 23rd, evening</b><br />
<br />
<b> </b>Kilpatrick sits among his finery. The finest silk and softest linens this ruin of a world has to offer. He waits on his kin.<br />
<br />
Jones is frog marched into the room. Kilpatrick smiles to see the anger and shame war on his face. At his gesture the men release Jones. At a second they leave the two. Kilpatrick feels the slick force of a push strike the left most man.<br />
<br />
"Brother, what have you done to mine own."<br />
<br />
Jones runs bruised arms. "Nothing he wasn't inclined to. After his drinks instead of a weak slave he'll beat on a strong soldier. It is minor recompense."<br />
<br />
"Not polite..."<br />
<br />
"And your welcome was!" Jones snarls. "I was expected. 'Your own' gave me a coarse greeting and a common beating. I'll take justice where I find it."<br />
<br />
Kilpatrick's smile is purest frost. "This land was given unto me and me alone. You are here on sufferance. Take nothing unless you're prepared to answer for it."<br />
<br />
"You wouldn't! Father has instructed you.."<br />
<br />
Colder still. "Father has requested. I accepted for him. No one instructs here. Understand."<br />
<br />
Jones shivers in the cold grip of his brother's strength. "I. Understand."<br />
<br />
"Yes and as to your treatment, we have experienced a disturbance this day. Two of the menials were slain and another taken. It was no game of mine. Later, I am told the hovel of some of the breeders was entered. Nothing was taken and none were used. How strange. They were asked things." Kilpatrick stands. He places his hands on Jones' shivering shoulders. Looks deep into his eyes. "I've taken those sights into me. Open yourself and I will see if there truly common cause."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-12096813988552378902012-07-23T15:59:00.003-07:002012-07-23T15:59:32.054-07:00081: A Short Hike II<b>Leonid, December 20th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
They don't see me until I let them, poor weak-eyed citymen. Just like earlier they make noises to scare me off only now it is Disciple turf. I let them run on. I've got a message to deliver once they're tired enough they may listen. If more of their people show up, good, then more listen.<br />
<br />
Sad, I am not moving on, the wire collector gets up in my face. He looks desperate. "You have to go. We could get hurt for just speaking with you. Go, before Ty or BT show up." His hands dance nervously.<br />
<br />
"I'll talk to them too," I answer.<br />
<br />
He wipes his hands on his coat. "Please, you'll die if you stay here." He looks around. His tongue keeps licking at his chapped lips. "You need to go now!"<br />
<br />
I shake my head. That was loud enough for my comrades to hear. I hope nothing stupid happens.<br />
<br />
I'm almost surprised when the gun comes out. He's quick. The little .32 revolvers pointed in my face. It shakes. "Leave, now."<br />
<br />
I give him just a hint of teeth in my smile. "Not a good idea. You think I am alone?"<br />
<br />
He looks about nervously the idea may not have crossed his mind. Before he can a .32 caliber rejoinder I ask, "Is the child back yet?" A blank look for the ages. "We met him and a few others further north yesterday. They were hunting Dewayne and his family."<br />
<br />
"Dewayne. You ran into Mash?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I think that was his name," I hit the '<b>was</b>' hard. "I think this is his '16 right here."<br />
<br />
He takes a step back still covering me with the popgun. "Let me see."<br />
<br />
"See?"<br />
<br />
"The base," he says impatiently, "his name's on the base."<br />
<br />
I pull the M16 over by the strap and turn it over. There, on the butt stock, is MASH crudely carved into the plastic. "Yes, that's him."<br />
<br />
The pistol lowers. "You killed him. You killed the rest?"<br />
<br />
"All except the child. Thirteenish, gaunt, called himself Reese. Sent him back with a message. How it was received?"<br />
<br />
"We haven't seen him. What, what are you going to do now?"<br />
<br />
"Let me introduce you to some people." I signal my comrades. Even without drink, Leo makes friends.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Kapitan Paterson. I know she's major, but for too long she's been Kapitan, I keep slipping. Kapitan Paterson tells them what our fellow troops have been up to the past few months. How they're here now and what they intend to do. Some of the faces close up. Others, including my pistol-packing friend, open up. They have questions, many questions.<br />
<br />
I think it is Dewayne and his family that convinces them. She speaks with confidence and knowledge about their appearance, behavior, and treatment. If we had taken them prisoner we'd know things, but not all of these. The locals have been treated harshly, first by disaster, then the neighbors, and finally each other. She makes no apology or promise. But I can hear it in her voice, "not again, never again, not on my watch."<br />
<br />
The pistoleer, Jerry, asks for us to let him talk to his group. They huddle, he argues. His friend's alive. He's going to find him. They're raiders/slavers/eaters. If they were raiders we'd be dead by now or in chains. We can't leave our families. Take them with. Food? Look at them. They're getting more than a Disciple gunman is. They argue and we let them.<br />
<br />
Jerry turns back to us. "I want to leave. So do some of the others, but they're afraid. That gun might just be a trick. Everyone knows Mash liked to leave his name on people."<br />
<br />
I answer, "What do we need to do?"<br />
<br />
"Show us, there's only two left in the house, BT and Ty, they're guarding the food stores. If you can take them down, we can take the food we've worked for, and follow you out."<br />
<br />
Kapitan, "Is there anyone else there? Women or children?"<br />
<br />
"A few women, none that would fight you. No kids."<br />
<br />
"Good, I'd rather not kill someone not deserving it. You'll lead us there?"<br />
<br />
He swallows convulsively, "Yes."<br />
<br />
I pull Mash's '16 around. "Can you shoot?" At his nod I hand over the rifle and magazine. He checks the magazine. It is topped up. Seats the mag and sites out onto the park. Surprisingly he hands it back.<br />
<br />
"Later." He looks unhappily about. "You'll need me at the door to bring them out. I can tell them all about you taking the rest of the crew prisoner. They'll come running."<br />
<br />
Kapitan nods. I tell him, "That is a good, simple plan. You know them. They'll do this."<br />
<br />
He nods affirmative.<br />
<br />
"Good then, you can have this after."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Two dead men later and things heat up. Jerry and six others with family in tow are dumping as much food as they can carry out the back into a cut down pick-up with traces for five men to pull. They're moving as fast as they can since one of the dead men had a finger on an unsafed gun. Sounds carry.<br />
<br />
We're watching north and south down the park when the first unexpected arrival shows. Little Reese, hands bound behind, kicks at the back door followed by jeers from the locals. He spits insults back and squeals when Kapitan pulls the door open. <br />
<br />
"You're late child. It wasn't that far a walk. Where have you been."<br />
<br />
"Oh God lady, demons. There were demons. I had to hide."<br />
<br />
"Somebody tell me what are demons?"<br />
<br />
Jerry, following the kid in with Mash's M16 in his hands, answers, "Cannibals. They're crazy, demented, demons." If that boy were alone he'd be eating the end of the stock.<br />
<br />
Kapitan grabs Reese by the collar of his jacket and manhandles him to the front door. "Look there at Ty and BT. They're dead too now." I smell fresh urine. "You got one more chance." She shoves him out. "Go tell the rest instead."<br />
<br />
Jerry makes his way to the door as Reese scrambles down the stairs. Kapitan stops him, "What did he do?"<br />
<br />
"Nothing. Everything. He joined up. Took Dewayne's daughter, Jen. I'd beat the fool boy senseless if I could."<br />
<br />
"There'll be time for that later. I promise. We need to get your people out to safety first."<br />
<br />
"Right. I need to go get Charlene. I won't touch him."<br />
<br />
She lets him go out the front. Must see something I didn't. "They about ready to go?" she asks.<br />
<br />
A shot rings out in the street. Alphabit is first out the door. Kapitan and I jam up together trying to be next. <br />
<br />
Alphabit readies his M16, no his attached grenade launcher and drops one down the street. What was a group of a dozen racing down the side of the park turns into borsch. I push through, drop to my knee, and service those still moving. Kapitan's M60 lays fire down the street. <br />
<br />
Alphabit scrambles out into the street under our cover. Jerry's down in the middle while the kid huddles behind a concrete planter. "Doc!," he shouts, "Man down!"<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Those locals still with us have finished loading the wagon. Jerry and Doc go on top. Doc's got him stabilized, but the round went through his lung. He needs to get to Columbia as soon as possible. Four volunteers lay into the traces. The kid gets set in the lead. The men behind have choice words for him after they get it moving. Others walk beside carrying scant possessions or bags of food. <br />
<br />
Alphabit left a few surprises on the way into their stores. Poisoned fruit.<br />
<br />
They're watching us. I can feel it. Probably from across the park in the cover of the buildings. I figure we'll pick up a tail as we head back. I've got permission to neutralize them if I see them. <br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Two hours in before I spot the tail. They're way back. I signal the Kapitan and pull back.<br />
<br />
I find myself a good spot in cover of abandoned cars with an open doorway to my back. I plan to strike and pull back and around for the next shot. There are four moving from cover to cover up the roadway.<br />
<br />
I'm laying the SVD's sights on them when four become three and those three drop down into cover. I wait a breath. Where's the forth? One begins shouting uncalled for thing about my mother. I don't have a shot, but I saw where he went to ground. I put a round through the car side which only makes him shout more harshly. I still don't see the fourth. Time to egress.<br />
<br />
Back into the apartment and up the stairs to another firing position. The stairs crack.<br />
<br />
<b>FUCK</b>, <i>my balls. </i><br />
<br />
I think I choked off the scream. The dancing lights fade from my sight. One leg is all the way down through the stairs. Right up to my groin. The other leg's stretched back along the stairs. I can feel the blood seeping down my limb. I try to pull up, but the motherless boards bite in before I can move more than a centimeter. I'm stuck and they're outside.<br />
<br />
I pull a pair of grenades from my harness. Set them on the stair above me. The SVD on the one above that. I can contort myself around with the MP5. Only once I have the door covered do I tap the radio. <br />
<br />
The Kapitan takes my breathy report. Alphabit and Rutkowski are heading back. I'm to hold on. No other choice. At least I can see my last position from here.<br />
<br />
The wait is terrible. My free leg and back want to cramp. The steady drip of blood and pain let me know something is in there holding it open. <br />
<br />
The taunts have been continuing. They almost cover the rapid footsteps. A shotgunner springs into view facing my old position. Hello, number four. He takes two bursts. The MP5SD's silenced, but his shotgun discharges as he falls.<br />
<br />
The taunts turn to queries. No answers. I wait. Help is far away. Please be stupid.<br />
<br />
More footsteps. They stop near the doorway. I can place him behind the post of the lintel. he can see his friend and is putting it together. I cover open doorway.<br />
<br />
His head darts into view and quickly withdraws. I hold my fire. It is midday. Very light out there and dark in here. He couldn't see me. Could he?<br />
<br />
He'd do things different if he had. Instead of throwing a grenade in or spraying the stairway he slides slowly around the frame. The gun's pointed back down the corridor beside the stairs not up them. He joins his friend among the dead.<br />
<br />
I wait.<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Alphabit</b><br />
<br />
Leo really outdid himself. Why he'd tried those stairs escapes me. Even to a casual glance they were unsafe. He colorfully explains that he isn't a trained civil engineer as I point out the warning signs. I remind him, "I'm your way out."<br />
<br />
Rutkowski follows my directions, straddling the stringers to either side below Leo. He holds him under the arms as I cut away the tread and riser. They've dug in deep and his leg is covered with gore from the open wounds. Wish we'd brought Doc. Once free and tended the flow slows. I give him a shoulder while Rutkowski takes watch. We'll swap as I get tired.<br />
<br />
Rut strips the two bodies of arms. The major knows we're on our way back. <br />
<br />
What a day!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-49294598224662983042012-07-13T18:26:00.004-07:002012-07-13T18:26:46.306-07:00080: A Short Hike<b>Paterson, December 19th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
Leo took his squad out early in the morning. He wanted to go "shopping" before our big trip. I expected him back by noon with scavenged supplies. Instead, he and his men returned two hours later with an 8 foot pine on their shoulders. He went and chopped down a god-damned Christmas tree.<br />
<br />
After setting it up in the lobby, Ed and Griffith materialized from the bowels of Columbia with boxes of decorations. Tinsel strings, colored balls, and a star for the top. The light strings wouldn't work so Griffith went back down to look for packaged bulbs. <br />
<br />
Our new guests were attracted to the excited sounds of the troops and just stood agog at the sight. The older man, Dewayne, left with tears in his eyes while the rest sat and watched in silence. Leo's cavalry, the six Russian deserters from Poland, took to stringing around the room and putting up cutouts of Santa, reindeer, elves and presents on the walls with small nails. All the while gabbling happily to each other in Russian. I know I heard more than one comment of how tasty Rudolph looked.<br />
<br />
Too soon we had to put aside the levity. We had a trip planned, a short hike down island. We planned to get a look, but not too close, of New York Presbyterian, CUNY, Hizzoner's north edge, and, maybe, Harlem. Our team would be small just the old crew and Rutkowski. Ed's still recovering from his gun shot, three inches higher and Doc would have gotten a volunteer to see how much we can regrow, and Lt. George has command. He might be from Intel, but the men are veterans of Warsaw and Poland. They know he knows his stuff.<br />
<br />
We're traveling light. Food for two days, sleeping bags, basic gear, and weapons. We'll have to overnight in the south. I expect the City is a different place at night. Remember, it never sleeps.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Side streets are clogged with vehicles caught in motion when the EMP hit. The main roads have had the blockages shoved to the sides of the road. Some look like they were pushed, others forced aside by a bulldozer, a few are flattened. In all cases they're sitting on rotted rubber. Most have missing gas caps and broken windows or hanging doors. The silence, once we get a block from Columbia, is oppressive. <br />
<br />
Near Columbia there are signs of violence and neglect; broken windows, fire damage, forced doors. The further south we go, the worse it gets. More fire, more looting. I tell the others most of these buildings aren't safe. Let Alphabit or I inspect before we go in. <br />
<br />
I've seen ruin in Europe. This is worse. It's home. And I think it could have all been prevented if someone had done something different. <br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
We've been following our refugees route down Amsterdam Avenue. Highbridge park has fallen away to our right and we're back in residential spaces. My thoughts get darker the further south we head. Leo brings me back to the present by signaling contact. We drop to either side of the street in the cover of wrecked cars. A band of ten is moving north. They're not in uniform, but they have a uniformity about them, a similar way of moving and individualized insignia on their chests or shoulders. The Star of David predominates, but there's three tined pitchforks as well. These are the Disciples. The group Dewayne and his family fled. I ID a pair of M16s, the rest are armed with a collection of civilian shotgun and rifles.<br />
<br />
Leo's already lined up a shot with the SVD and the others are taking aim. The gangers are a good ways down yet so I order them to hold fire. It may not do any good, but I'll talk first. <br />
<br />
I call out, but don't expose myself. They go to ground or cover among the cars. I talk. Their leader insults. He's taking no lip from a woman.<br />
<br />
Rutkowski calls out in Polish, "Two went over cars on the right. They're flanking."<br />
<br />
Leo puts the leader down, so much for chain of command, and begins a methodical extermination as the rest of us supply suppression fire. They try to fight back, but they're not prepared for the level of firepower we could bring to bear. Alphabit took a round to the vest, but waved off Doc. Rutkowski took one of the flankers prisoner. We've got another four bleeding out on the ground. We strip guns, ammo, and food and leave them there. Leo cuts the insignia from them before starting a little fire. The prisoner, a damn boy child, watches with hard eyes.<br />
<br />
He talks. He's with Masher, the dead loud mouth. Masher ran their group. They're up north hunting some workers who got lost. Ok, fled or captured by another group. Ok, ok, fled. They're all Disciples.<br />
<br />
Names, numbers, locations, as best as we can get out of him. His group and another have the Jackie Robinson Park area. Other Disciples are to the east and south of there. There's 6 other groups like his. I infer there are another 600 to 700 people under them doing the work while they oversee and guard. Slaves, although he insists otherwise. <br />
<br />
I leave his hands tied. Give him the speech. "The governments back. We're tasked with supplying medical and disaster relief for the area. The Allen Pavilion is open for the ill and injured. Payment is on a sliding scale." Alphabit stuffs a copy of the announcement into his jacket. <br />
<br />
"We will not tolerate slavery, extortion, rape, and other crimes against the American people. We will negotiate with groups that repudiate these behaviors. We will talk first, just like we did here, but we will finish any violence, just like we did here. Am I clear?"<br />
<br />
He acknowledges me sullenly. I wait for him to leave. "Say it child."<br />
<br />
He bristles, some pride left, and asks, "Will you untie me?"<br />
<br />
"Is it dangerous between here and your turf."<br />
<br />
"No, but," he nods at his expiring friends, "I can't help them like this."<br />
<br />
"You're not helping them. Now go."<br />
<br />
"Wait one," calls Alphabit. He turns from guard position and pulls a handful of census forms from his pack. <br />
<br />
"We're also conducting the national census!" He exclaims happily, "Please fill out your form and return it by January 1st or your most convenient date. I've included extras for you to give out to your neighbors and coworkers. Remember, it's the law!"<br />
<br />
The boy runs off before we regain our senses and shoot him. It is obvious we're a bunch of crazies. <br />
<br />
"Alphabit, you enjoyed that a little too much."<br />
<br />
"Yes Major, a man has to take pride in his work."<br />
<br />
"Keep it up."<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
New York Prespeterian and the 30st Street precinct are complete busts. The damage to structures is extensive. They're unsafe and I doubt much has survived of use. I scratch them off the list of potential salvage sites. <br />
<br />
CUNY also bore the brunt of riots and fires. Looks more like riots than fire though. We saw a mountain lion giving us the eyeball from a third floor window. Wonder who let the animals out and how many there are. We give her a wide berth. They've been known to attack hikers. I'm loath to kill it if it has managed to survive this long.<br />
<br />
We entered Harlem at a crawl, keeping to side streets and back alleyways. We didn't see anyone until we swung back to the north, but I always felt eyes on me. Don't think anyone was actually watching us. We've gotten good at the sneak since Poland. Like Gunny used to say, "Can't stop here, this is Ivan country."<br />
<br />
We'd circled Jackie Robinson Park on our approach and planned to just squeak by on the north east side to have a look when our people moment occurred. I'd taken the drag position and been feeling edgy the last few blocks. I could almost hear someone, a snuffle and drag, but hadn't spotted the source.<br />
<br />
He'd been stalking me. I heard his rush and got around in time to bring the 60 up and shove him away. He was beyond ragged, rail thin with a length of pipe as a weapon. He looked at me with hungry eyes, snarling as the rst of the team turned, and bolted off to the west. <br />
<br />
I signaled for silence and pursuit. We chased him a block before he headed down into a subway entrance. From the top we could hear the faint sounds of shuffling, soon stilled, and the lapping of water.<br />
<br />
I had a bad feeling as to what his condition and that look indicated. We prepped our Night Vision Gear. Leo and Alphabit took point carrying silenced weapons. Leo had his favorite toy, the MP5SD, while Alphabit had one of the Skorpions we'd taken in Poland. The rest of us carried our standards in case that wasn't enough. <br />
<br />
The stairs bent around two landings before Leo signaled halt. At the base of the third flight the stairwell opened up onto the subway landing. A half a dozen figures waited in the dark clutching clubs and bricks. They stood, unnaturally quiet, turning their heads and snuffling the air for any sign of us. There were no light sources. Leo drew back around the bend. I gave him the assent to use a concussion grenade.<br />
<br />
The clap of the explosion reflected off the landing. Before the ringing could die down Leo, Alphabit and Rutkowski sprang into action, kicking aside weapons, adn taking the prisoners in hand. Doc and I provided cover from the landing. They'd secured four of them when an unholy howl rose from deeper in. Leo's gun snapped to and sprayed the right flank with 9mm as fast as he could pull the trigger. It wasn't enough and bodies fell around and then smashed into them.<br />
<br />
There was a cold moment of hesitation from Doc and I. Firing into that mass, our first reaction, would get somebody, one or more of ours, dead. "Concussion!" I shouted to Doc as I grabbed on off my gear. A quick glance to confirm it was one of the concussion grenades and then a toss into the mass. Doc followed suit and we pulled behind the stairwell again. <br />
<br />
The twin claps were followed by screams and sobs. Doc and I came back around at a run. God, there must have been 20 of them. We switched to pistols and finished it. <br />
<br />
Doc and I found the nests after securing the survivors. Nests littered with cracked bones. Some were small and fine; rats and pigeons. The others, long bones, ribs, crushed skulls, were all too human. Jesus wept, they aren't the Donner party. You could walk off the island. We'd question them elsewhere. I doubt they'd see the dawn.<br />
<br />
Once the men had a chance to recover I sent Leo up to see if the grenades had attracted any more locals. The rest of us got to work on getting our three prisoners ready to move. Leo took his time topside. His hushed report gave me a pause. There's been nearly a dozen men and some sort of technical patrolling the street. They'd passed to the north. We'd stirred them up good.<br />
<br />
Plans change. Instead of pushing north and going to ground on the south end of Highland Park we'd have to find a hole nearby and pull it in after us. If they became convinced there was someone present the subway was too obvious a hiding place. Pity, I'd wanted to observe the Disciples near Jackie Robinson and their early day routine, but not with if I had to play in traffic. <br />
<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
<br />
A solid basement. One shelter half and the sleeping bags served as ground cover. The others, double layered and tied off halfway to the ceiling, hung to trap body heat. Our prisoners sullen, silent, and lousy. Doc's already told us we're getting the full body treatment once we're back to base. Tick-picker. <br />
<br />
I thought they weren't communicative, silent and stubborn as any Ivan loyalist. No, I think they can't. Their vocalizations are limited; raw barks and snarls, interrogative coos, and distressed sighs. Two years. Two fucking years. What's been done to us.<br />
<br />
We eat, sharing our food with the condemned. We won't be able to take them with us and we can't leave them behind. There's ample evidence of the danger they pose back at the station. No, we feed them and tie them for the night. We'll stand two on, two off. Alphabit's taking the full night off. He's running ragged from our two encounters. I tell him he shouldn't have waved Doc's ministrations off so quickly. He grunts acknowledgement before rolling over and dropping off to sleep.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
<br />
No trucks in the night. No one comes within visual. We can hear them. Running steps and gunshots in the night. Sharp, isolated incidents with long gaps of silence through the dark hours. Next time.... we'll pick a high spot. Get a good top down view.<br />
<br />
I wonder what the child gangster's return has stirred among his fellow. I really regret not getting to Highland. We'd be able to look down the length of Jackie Robinson. Next time. Next time.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Leonid, December 20th, 2000</b><br />
<br />
Moving before the sun. Never liked predawn march, but this buys us time we lost yesterday. <br />
<br />
I take care of the man eaters. Kapitan took enough of them before. Besides, I am good with the knife. the rats will feed well.<br />
<br />
As the sun reddens the east I spot movement. The team halts at my signal and I slide ahead. Three men, strange, no guns. I'm used to everyone, even the civilians, having something. I thought America would be worse. <i>Nyet</i>, they have lines, nets, and spears. I signal, slow advance. We follow.<br />
<br />
Ah, they're running trap lines. Into buildings they go. Out they come. New lines traded for prey filled ones. Rat stew. Nets for pigeon later in the day. They're aware of their surroundings, but it isn't enough.<br />
<br />
I'm standing, resting against a panel van, guns slung as they exit another gutted tenement. I greet them, palms up and arms out, "Hello, friends, I mean no harm." They level spears. Their eye whites wide in dark faces.<br />
Ah, if only I had vodka. Drinks lubricate strangers.<br />
<br />
They make with bravado. "This is Mau-Mau turf. They'll kill you. You need to go," they say. <br />
<br />
I give them calm and confidence in return. They have pointy sticks. I have family with guns. I can wait on them. <br />
<br />
I'm actually starting to enjoy this. They are completely baffled. I'm not scared or threatening them. Their worst taunts fall away with no retaliation. They're at a point; either they'll leave as I'm no danger or curiosity will win out. They want to know. I keep the gentle smile.<br />
<br />
I tell them in broad strokes about Columbia and our mission; medical assistance, reconstruction, and the fool's mission of the census. The inevitable question rises, "Where were you? Why'd you abandon us?" I tell them of Poland; desperate fighting, stalemate, and withdrawal. Forty thousand men, combat veterans all, returning home to help their countrymen. It does have a mythic sound to it. They want to believe.<br />
<br />
I put the flyers on the ground, census and Columbia announcement. The others rise at my signal. I give them another smile, "Combat veterans, friend. The best of all that left. You let the Mau-Maus know."<br />
<br />
We leave them in the street. Once we've cleared their line of sight we move into double time, zigzagging down blocks, before going to ground. Sure enough, we hear the technical moving around. They went right home and alerted the guard. The truck growls a few blocks south of us and stops. It moves off west than back south. Must be the limits of their 'turf'. <br />
<br />
Kapitan thanks me for my work. Says I'll get another round with the next group. I know what she's doing. I do.<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
The map reads Jackie Robinson park. The eye reads a snow covered waste with the remains of concrete planters and low walls around the edges. The sounds of hammers and axes draws us to the north end. A work crew of seven is busy breaking sidewalks and taking down a wood frame. Another man walks from a neighboring house curling copper wire around his arm. <br />
<br />
I sling the SVD beside the shotgun and M16 I took from our Disciple friends. I will make more fiends now.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-56921799483605868972012-07-09T06:59:00.000-07:002012-07-09T06:59:12.837-07:00II: House RulesI'll be writing about my house rules for gun combat and melee in this post as promised, but I'll also be discussing initiative as it exacerbated the gun combat problems.<br />
<br />
Initially we played with a pretty solid take of GDW's gun combat. Strength controlling recoil and a whole lot of attacks occurred during your one initiative step a turn. Many times, this resulted in very short exchanges of fire since "kills" would be generated on most targets with a single shot or burst. Also, the big guns were much more controllable, because of their weight and low recoil values, than assault rifles which were supposed to be more controllable. Other than your load limit, there wasn't a reason not to carry an M60 over the M16. <br />
<br />
Between this campaign and the previous one we played with three iterations on combat. The following still needs some tweaks, but has been solid for our games.<br />
<br />
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<b>Initiative</b></div>
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On their initiative, each player gets one action; movement, a shot, melee attack, shouted order, or whatever. They get to act again on their initiative-2, the initiative-4, and so on. Since the players can't eliminate all the opposition in their first set of actions the combat rounds have more give and take.</div>
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<b>Gun Combat</b></div>
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The numbers needed to hit are the same as tasks with the skill system. The numbers given are for quick shots. Spending a action to carefully aim nets a +5 to the attack. Targeting a particular component of body part; truck wheel, pintle MG, head shot, nets a -5 to the attack.</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Close 15+</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Medium 20+</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Long 25+</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Extreme 30+</span></div>
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SMGs and Pistols, which I felt needed a bump, have a special range band of Point Blank (10+). This range band is 1/2 the Close Range or character's Agility, whichever is less.</div>
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<b>Extra Damage </b></div>
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Since the player's can now look at the chart and quickly compute how well they hit, I put in a few extra bennies for high success. Every step above that needed to hit adds one D6 to the damage dice. This reflects shots that are well-placed or hit weak points in protective gear. Players get really excited when a single M16 shot cranks up from 3D6 to 5 or 6.</div>
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<b>Fire Modes </b></div>
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As I said earlier, characters only get one action during their initiative step. For gun combat they can do one of the following, based on their weapon type.</div>
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</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Single Shot – </b>You fire one hastily
aimed shot at a target. </div>
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Any weapon can take a single shot. This is the base attack.</div>
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</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Burst Fire –</b> A hastily aimed burst of
automatic fire.</div>
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While automatic weapons can be fired in single shot mode, most characters will fire a burst instead. Characters expend a number of rounds equal to the bust size and make one attack roll. If successful the target is hit by one, or more, rounds. The damage for a burst is the base damage for the weapon plus 1D6 for each additional round. For instance, the M16A2 has a 3 round burst. It inflicts 5D6, 3D for the base damage plus 2D for the second and third rounds. An AKM inflicts an additional 4D for the 5 round burst. SAW's will chew you apart with a 10 round burst that inflicts +9D6.</div>
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</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Double Tap – </b>You fire two quick rounds
at one target. Make one attack roll for
both.</div>
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This mode is for most pistols, semiautomatic rifles, and double-barreled shotguns. One attack roll is made and the damage is doubled. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Empty the Magazine (-5 to hit) – </span></b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">You wildly empty your weapon into one
target. Your attack is made at -5 and
you score one point of extra damage for every round past the first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The "Empty the Magazine" attack is for that panicked moment when all you have is a pistol or lighter, small capacity semiautomatic rifle. </span></div>
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</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Suppression Fire (-5 to hit) – </b>You fire
several bursts into a general area. Any
target taking in that area is attacked once at -5. Anyone attempting to move into, or act in, a
suppressed zone that is not in cover or would expose themselves to fire needs to make an Difficult – Initiative test or lose the action.</div>
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This mode didn't see much play at first, but my players are beginning to utilize it. The size of the zone suppressed is based on the 8-meter outdoor square. Ammo is expended at your maximum rate of fire; 5 bursts of whatever size or all the rounds in your magazine (for something like an RPK which would consume 50 rounds, but only has a 40 round mag). I fudge the required rounds, but my rule of thumb is that you have to have at least 3 bursts left to use this mode.</div>
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Damage is as if they were hit by one round, but the initiative test is what really hurts. Pinned opponents without a valid retreat route are stuck and can be flanked or fragged at less risk. The last few foes are more likely to surrender if they are suppressed and outnumbered.</div>
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<b>Wild Fire - </b>I haven't worked out the details for Wild Fire yet. I intend it to be automatic attacks by under trained or panicked personnel with a hefty minus and low damage. </div>
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<b>Melee Combat</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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There are two types of targets in melee. <b> </b>Those actively fighting you and melee and those who are doing something else. </div>
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If your opponent is fighting you in melee the two characters make a melee combat test. If the attacker scores higher they handed the blow. If the defender scores higher they dodged or parried the strike. I do allow characters to use Unarmed Combat to defend against Armed attacks and vice verse.</div>
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If your opponent did anything in their previous action, even shot at you, or is unresisting than the attacker needs to succeed at an Average (15+) Melee Combat roll.</div>
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Extra damage is generated in the same manner as Gun Combat.</div>
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Weapon damage is generalized by category and should be obvious with a little thought.</div>
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Improvised Weapons, one handed - 1D6</div>
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Light Weapons, 1H - 1D6 + 1/2 Strength</div>
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Heavy Weapons, 1H - 1D6 + Strength</div>
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Improvised Weapons, two handed - 2D6</div>
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Light Weapons, 2H - 2D6 + 1/2 Strength</div>
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Heavy Weapons, 2H - 2D6 + Strength</div>
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<b>Next up- Healing and misc stuffs</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></b></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5721589241241259603.post-88127172224703339632012-07-07T11:28:00.001-07:002012-07-09T06:59:08.588-07:00I: House RulesSince the discovery of this blog by the crew over at the <a href="http://forum.juhlin.com/index.php" target="_blank">juhlin forums</a> (take a look for a vibrant T2K community) I've had several requests for how I run the game and any house rulings I use. This series of blog posts will discuss the rules I use, the reasons I use them, and some of the thought that went into the changes. Pleas feel free to discuss in the comments section! Feedback is appreciated.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Basics</b></div>
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<b> </b>I had three goals with the changes I made for my gaming group. </div>
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1. Reduce the use of division and crunch to speed play.</div>
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2. Keep as much of GDW's printed material as possible in play.</div>
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3. Have as many points of familiarity as possible for my players to games they've already played in order to reduce discomfort and increase familiarity.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>First Steps</b></div>
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The first steps were recalibrating skills. Most of my player group was already familiar with D&D 3.5, so they were used to rolling a D20 and adding. Taking a cue from Twilight v2.2 I decided to use the SKILL + ATTRIBUTE as the basis, only with a roll over instead of a roll under. The basic chart for that is as follows;</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">10+ Easy (EZY)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">15+ Average (AVE)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">20+ Difficult (DIF)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">25+ Formidable (FOR)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">30+ Impossible (IMP)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span>The initial point of for DIF tests were based on my call that I wanted well trained individual of average ability to succeed half the time. For me, that is a person with an ATTRIBUTE & SKILL of 5, total bonus of 10, which set Difficult tasks at 20. The five point spacing for additional and lesser successes seemed a natural progression.</div>
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<b>First Hits</b></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Next came changing how damage worked. I wanted to drop individual hit locations and values for a single pool of points. Doing so reduces some of the character durability since they can't take a succession of small wounds spread out over their body, so the pool has to be fairly large. However, it can't be too large, or they'll never be threatened by small arms. I used the following bands and consequences at each wound level;</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Scratch = 2x CON</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">No effect </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Slight = 2 x (STR + CON)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">-1 to initiative </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Serious = 3 x (STR + CON)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">-2 more to initiative</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Need to make a DIF:CON test before any action </span></div>
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Damage past the end of the Serious track is a Critical wound. Characters with a critical wound cannot preform any actions, except crawl away (and scream as a free action!), and require a Medical skill test to stabilize or they will bleed out in time.</div>
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<b><i>Armor</i></b></div>
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Ok, so the hot locations are gone. How do you deal with body armor? </div>
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<b><i> </i></b></div>
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My first thought was to just assume it hit armor all the time and apply a flat reduction to damage, but it didn't feel right. Instead, I use an armor save roll when a character is shot in order to get their armor. Based on their gear, they need the following on a D10;</div>
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Helmet 10</div>
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Flak Jacket 6 to 9</div>
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Kevlar Vest 4 to 9</div>
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Hits to the helmet inflict double damage after the they penetrate. I assume that random combat always hits the helmet. Only for a called shot to the head do I reach back into the rule book for an additional roll to see if the called shot hit the helmet or face/neck</div>
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<i><b>Next up - Guns and Melee</b></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14161724273072868593noreply@blogger.com1