Post by Dagothkitty on Sept 11, 2007 16:34:04 GMT -5
Eh, so it is a bit slow. Give it some time. This story will be big.
Josh observed the armories contents as he strode down a long, steel-grey hall, his pearl pearlescent suit a stark contrast to the dull grey of the rest of the room. His hands folded behind his back, he admired the weapons features. This was not an ordinary armory, this one was in much ways more superior and secret then lesser weapon warehouses.
Pieces of metal that took the lives of thousands were mounted upon walls, all different, yet powerful, and each had a terrible beauty. Josh never appreciated the gift of being able to kill effectively, though it was what he did best, and he had learned to accept it over time.
He was re-assured of his stature and skill as he recognized the fact that very few had set foot in this weapon’s locker. Only a small handful of powerful operatives, ones trained just like him to take life from his enemies. And only the best at it had walked the corridors of this place as he was now, for very few made it through to being a recognized Delta Force member.
Any weapon, all of them, were his. His trigger finger twitched as he stared at weapons that would seem like alien craft to civilians, but were like shovels or hammers to Josh. Today was September 11th, and Josh took a moment to pause and remember those who lost their lives that day.
That all happened fifty two years ago, when the world was much better then it is now. He spat upon the steel flooring, clenched his fist and howled in fury as he thought of those that had taken those peoples lives; so selfless, so willing to kill for some god. And he thought, how was he much different? He was not fighting for some divine character, in it’s stead he fought because some man told him too. A man told him who to shoot, and he was to never speak of it again.
He, like all others who served in the army here, were the usual ‘GI’, or ‘government issue’. Tools of the government, tools that could never speak back and ask ‘Why?’, or who could never tell his family where he was, or what he for that matter.
Rage boiled in side of him, as it had many times before. He took a deep breath, inhaling the metallic-lead scent the weapons emitted. He continued towards the caged, glowing red ‘Exit’ sign. The presence of weapons comforted him, they made him feel like the most powerful man on the Earth.
The base was quiet, not many inhabited the place. Only a few operatives resigned within it’s titanium’s walls, and a few higher ranking officers and intelligence officers. The place was bland and dull, and the only thing that seemed to be missing was the bustle of mechanics and other workers among the base, the noise of recruits training, the rumble of an F-35’s engine, the piercing report displayed through a disembodied voice over some loud speaker. Those were the days when Josh was a Ranger, an average in the Army. He was not sure if being so significant now was important. He was much more powerful then most men, and yet he had no voice… how ignorant he was when he decided to join the army.
Of course, he did not regret it. It was all for his brothers, brothers he did not have as a civilian. Brothers he lost to bullets, whether it be one of the lucky 15,000 poorly placed rounds from an Iraqi guerilla’s AK that had found his head, or that of an elite sharpshooter of the People’s Republic Army.
Josh continued towards the underground barracks, dust and sand erupting into the air with each step. He grabbed the hilt of his combat knife for comfort as he strode along. He knew that no one would dare attack him in this place, hell, they probably wouldn’t be able to get in the place, but he gripped it just as tightly as if he was in a Viet-Cog infested jungle….just in case.
The numbers passed before him. ‘12’, ‘13’, and finally he reached it, his assigned room, number 14. ‘Abandon hope yee who entered’, was etched upon the door. Paint peelings condensed on the floor. Josh permitted himself a small grin as he pushed the heavy door open. Metal music filled his ears, but he did not blink at the change, nor move his hands to cover his ears, nor any other movement.
His roommate rested upon a bed, reading a girls cosmetic magazine. His back propped against a pillow, and the radio rested on his night stand by the side of his. Derek stood there for a few moments, his hands behind his back, and his eyes staring directly at the wall in front of him, not at his roommate.
“Staff Sergeant Matthews!” Josh shouted over the music. His voice commanded authority, and with a sudden jerk, his roommate dropped the magazine, leapt out of his bed, and stood at attention, all instinctively.
“Captain Steel, Sir!” he shouted obediently. Now Josh turned his head towards Matthews, his expression unwavering, impossible to read from the sternness of his face.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!” Josh bellowed as Matthews turned off the radio. “Are you some maggot recruit straight out of high school? Some half ass, ignorant fool who decided the Marines was the better place for him? Huh? ARE YOU!” Derek continued his over-volumed rant.
Matthews looked as grim as ever. “No Sir!” He responded.
“Oh? Well then, in that case… Turn that radio back on! And if it is shit, like what I listened to when I walked in here, you will be court marshaled! The deltas don’t listen to that crap, boy, you hear?”
Matthews couldn’t contain himself. He started to smile which soon erupted into laughter. Derek smiled as well, now reaching to turn the radio on. Matthews re-settled his bed, and pulled the magazine back up to his face. “How do you listen to this crap Will?” Josh asked with an eyebrow raised. He pulled a CD from his pocket, and retrieved a very old CD player out from under his bed.
Will laughed, still with his eyes focused on the page. Steel shook his head and inserted the massive disc into the player. “This is the real stuff you ought to be listening to, maggot.” Continued Steel.
The screech of rock and roll replaced the silence of the room, previously owned by the booming of heavy metal. Will shook his head, but remained quiet. Josh caught the gesture from the corner of his eye, and only smiled.
“Any news?” Asked will suddenly, as Josh started to remove his weapons.
“Yeah, I guess the Chinese leaders are holding a meeting somewhere. Mark at intelligence thinks that they will be discussing a Declaration of war on the west.”
“We all knew that was coming”, stated Will darkly. “What about the Lambs?”
“You know everything I don’t, how about you tell me the news?” Josh smiled again. Lambs… that was the name for the Radical Islamic fighters. The name was created from the relevance to ‘Lams’ part of the word ‘Islam’. And since lambs are butchered for meat sometimes (a comparison between the skills of American Soldiers and Islamic fighters), they thought it was the perfect name.
Josh did not think it was that funny as other did. He respected his enemy, no matter who they were. A man willing enough to pick up a gun and fire at a member of the most powerful army in the world had to have some guts, or was blind and foolish… regardless, they were soldiers like him, and for that he respected them.
“Well, you’re the Captain.” Will brought this up again. Though Josh was a few good ranks higher then Will, Will had failed to receive a promotion, a promotion that Josh received in an operation conducted by both of them. Of course, Josh only received it because he took the shot, as Will didn’t. He just scouted. However, Josh did try to object to this, as it took two men to form one sniper, but the CO’s ignored his grievances.
Josh just ignored it, as he had discussed the incident many times with Will. He turned his head to the wall, and slept overtook him.
Josh observed the armories contents as he strode down a long, steel-grey hall, his pearl pearlescent suit a stark contrast to the dull grey of the rest of the room. His hands folded behind his back, he admired the weapons features. This was not an ordinary armory, this one was in much ways more superior and secret then lesser weapon warehouses.
Pieces of metal that took the lives of thousands were mounted upon walls, all different, yet powerful, and each had a terrible beauty. Josh never appreciated the gift of being able to kill effectively, though it was what he did best, and he had learned to accept it over time.
He was re-assured of his stature and skill as he recognized the fact that very few had set foot in this weapon’s locker. Only a small handful of powerful operatives, ones trained just like him to take life from his enemies. And only the best at it had walked the corridors of this place as he was now, for very few made it through to being a recognized Delta Force member.
Any weapon, all of them, were his. His trigger finger twitched as he stared at weapons that would seem like alien craft to civilians, but were like shovels or hammers to Josh. Today was September 11th, and Josh took a moment to pause and remember those who lost their lives that day.
That all happened fifty two years ago, when the world was much better then it is now. He spat upon the steel flooring, clenched his fist and howled in fury as he thought of those that had taken those peoples lives; so selfless, so willing to kill for some god. And he thought, how was he much different? He was not fighting for some divine character, in it’s stead he fought because some man told him too. A man told him who to shoot, and he was to never speak of it again.
He, like all others who served in the army here, were the usual ‘GI’, or ‘government issue’. Tools of the government, tools that could never speak back and ask ‘Why?’, or who could never tell his family where he was, or what he for that matter.
Rage boiled in side of him, as it had many times before. He took a deep breath, inhaling the metallic-lead scent the weapons emitted. He continued towards the caged, glowing red ‘Exit’ sign. The presence of weapons comforted him, they made him feel like the most powerful man on the Earth.
The base was quiet, not many inhabited the place. Only a few operatives resigned within it’s titanium’s walls, and a few higher ranking officers and intelligence officers. The place was bland and dull, and the only thing that seemed to be missing was the bustle of mechanics and other workers among the base, the noise of recruits training, the rumble of an F-35’s engine, the piercing report displayed through a disembodied voice over some loud speaker. Those were the days when Josh was a Ranger, an average in the Army. He was not sure if being so significant now was important. He was much more powerful then most men, and yet he had no voice… how ignorant he was when he decided to join the army.
Of course, he did not regret it. It was all for his brothers, brothers he did not have as a civilian. Brothers he lost to bullets, whether it be one of the lucky 15,000 poorly placed rounds from an Iraqi guerilla’s AK that had found his head, or that of an elite sharpshooter of the People’s Republic Army.
Josh continued towards the underground barracks, dust and sand erupting into the air with each step. He grabbed the hilt of his combat knife for comfort as he strode along. He knew that no one would dare attack him in this place, hell, they probably wouldn’t be able to get in the place, but he gripped it just as tightly as if he was in a Viet-Cog infested jungle….just in case.
The numbers passed before him. ‘12’, ‘13’, and finally he reached it, his assigned room, number 14. ‘Abandon hope yee who entered’, was etched upon the door. Paint peelings condensed on the floor. Josh permitted himself a small grin as he pushed the heavy door open. Metal music filled his ears, but he did not blink at the change, nor move his hands to cover his ears, nor any other movement.
His roommate rested upon a bed, reading a girls cosmetic magazine. His back propped against a pillow, and the radio rested on his night stand by the side of his. Derek stood there for a few moments, his hands behind his back, and his eyes staring directly at the wall in front of him, not at his roommate.
“Staff Sergeant Matthews!” Josh shouted over the music. His voice commanded authority, and with a sudden jerk, his roommate dropped the magazine, leapt out of his bed, and stood at attention, all instinctively.
“Captain Steel, Sir!” he shouted obediently. Now Josh turned his head towards Matthews, his expression unwavering, impossible to read from the sternness of his face.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!” Josh bellowed as Matthews turned off the radio. “Are you some maggot recruit straight out of high school? Some half ass, ignorant fool who decided the Marines was the better place for him? Huh? ARE YOU!” Derek continued his over-volumed rant.
Matthews looked as grim as ever. “No Sir!” He responded.
“Oh? Well then, in that case… Turn that radio back on! And if it is shit, like what I listened to when I walked in here, you will be court marshaled! The deltas don’t listen to that crap, boy, you hear?”
Matthews couldn’t contain himself. He started to smile which soon erupted into laughter. Derek smiled as well, now reaching to turn the radio on. Matthews re-settled his bed, and pulled the magazine back up to his face. “How do you listen to this crap Will?” Josh asked with an eyebrow raised. He pulled a CD from his pocket, and retrieved a very old CD player out from under his bed.
Will laughed, still with his eyes focused on the page. Steel shook his head and inserted the massive disc into the player. “This is the real stuff you ought to be listening to, maggot.” Continued Steel.
The screech of rock and roll replaced the silence of the room, previously owned by the booming of heavy metal. Will shook his head, but remained quiet. Josh caught the gesture from the corner of his eye, and only smiled.
“Any news?” Asked will suddenly, as Josh started to remove his weapons.
“Yeah, I guess the Chinese leaders are holding a meeting somewhere. Mark at intelligence thinks that they will be discussing a Declaration of war on the west.”
“We all knew that was coming”, stated Will darkly. “What about the Lambs?”
“You know everything I don’t, how about you tell me the news?” Josh smiled again. Lambs… that was the name for the Radical Islamic fighters. The name was created from the relevance to ‘Lams’ part of the word ‘Islam’. And since lambs are butchered for meat sometimes (a comparison between the skills of American Soldiers and Islamic fighters), they thought it was the perfect name.
Josh did not think it was that funny as other did. He respected his enemy, no matter who they were. A man willing enough to pick up a gun and fire at a member of the most powerful army in the world had to have some guts, or was blind and foolish… regardless, they were soldiers like him, and for that he respected them.
“Well, you’re the Captain.” Will brought this up again. Though Josh was a few good ranks higher then Will, Will had failed to receive a promotion, a promotion that Josh received in an operation conducted by both of them. Of course, Josh only received it because he took the shot, as Will didn’t. He just scouted. However, Josh did try to object to this, as it took two men to form one sniper, but the CO’s ignored his grievances.
Josh just ignored it, as he had discussed the incident many times with Will. He turned his head to the wall, and slept overtook him.