Letters to Gerald

[cat danny 25]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chronology;

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

[cat danny 25]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The car ride. The one with Van's cassette, the first one."

June 1st, 2294

Outskirts of Alvert, Endoran Territory, Barachian-Nine

Operation SCORPION

Yael Avraham, Corporal

 

Yael woke up to find Gerald shaking her shoulder. "Hey, wake up princess. If Bronson tells me to eat shit for sleeping, I'm doin' the same to you," he chided with a grin. The Lieutenant sitting up in navigation glanced back. "I'll kill ya', Pomeroy. Right here in the vic'," he said. Yael had a hard time telling if he was joking or not. Bronson's facial expressions were always overdone, no matter how serious he was. The follow-up grin gave it away. "Yes, -sir-!" Pomeroy replied with a two-fingered mock salute. "Thank you, sir!" He eyed Yael sidelong, who in turn reciprocated to give him a glance that read 'You're actually a moron'.

 

To liven things up a little, Van pushed a cassette into the player of their technical. "♫ ... About to go and damn near went blind, young niggas on the pad throwin' up gang signs," Van began, only to be interrupted by their gunner, Jo Keira. "You can't say that shit, buddy. You're not even -.." Van retorted before she could finish. "I am in spirit, sister!" he bellowed out before beginning again.

 

The guardrails on a friendly checkpoint lifted up once they were about fifty meters off. Van cranked the stereo as they rode up, beginning once more. "♫ Car pulls up, who can it be!? Grizzly-One, in a humvee! I rolled down the window and I started to say," he then pointed at Gerald who followed up with a quick, "- It's all about killin' had-jis today!" Once they were through the checkpoint, the rest of the vic' picked up, sans Bronson. He didn't chime in, but he didn't stop them either. He was about forty, a veteran career soldier.

 

" 'Cause the boys in the hood are always hard, come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your card! Knowin' nothin' in life but to be legit, don't quote me boy I ain't said shit! ♫"

 

 

 

 

 

[cat danny 25]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

"It went about how you would expect."

January 21st, 2298

Outskirts of S.C One, Saint Julian's Abbey, Shoreridge Three

Invasion of Shoreridge

Yael Avraham, Sergeant

 

"Hit him with it," Hawke ordered after Yael got finished setting the clippers up to the battery. Young and Hurst stood nearby, the latter preparing a the man with an IV in order to keep him alive; He was an artillery officer for the drakes, one they'd managed to capture during the sacking of a gun nest. The Sergeant touched the ends together in order to produce a well-lit spasm right in the man's face, causing him to flinch and recoil. He didn't go far, considering he was bound with wire to the chair. "Y-you can't! There are laws against this sort of thing!" he protested as he held his face as far away from the jumper cables as he could.

 

"Chief?" Yael asked, as if for confirmation. "I said hit him," the Warrant Officer replied. At that, Yael touched both ends to the man's ribs. He let out a yelp which echoed through the stone walls of the abbey they were situated in; An old church-like building the 112th had taken over for a FOB. A small section had been cordoned off for Salem's men to use as their operations room. It looked less like an ops' room than it did the sight of a gruesome murder. There was blood on the floor, various red-stained rags littering the cobblestone. Parts of the man's uniform that had been torn, or stripped away. Used utensils lay in a surgeon's kit on the nearby table by the battery. A dog kennel was probably cleaner.

 

"The airfield," she spoke again. "We saw you get airlifted in, why don't you tell me where from?" The Sergeant spoke kindly to the man, despite the situation they found themselves in. Cold as ice in demeanor, rigid and professional despite the fact that she spoke to him as if she were trying to help him, to spare him from some cruel fate. In all actuality, Yael did not care. This man came from the wrong side of the barricade; It was just business. "I- I don't know!" he protested.

 

"Wrong answer," Hawke replied. He gave her a nod, and she did it again. She touched the ends of the prongs to his ribs and caused him to recoil and flail about in his seat. The wire cut into the tops of his wrists as he strained and struggled to pull away, albeit to no avail. One of his eyes was swollen shut, one of his fingers missing the nail and a good chunk of skin all the way up to the knuckle, courtesy of their doctor. Yael was never particularly fond of her, but Salem was, which meant that she would keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. Mutilation wasn't effective, pain was. To mutilate a man is quick, and then you've got to move on to another region. A few hundred volts going through one's body did things to them, they started to speak very quickly.

 

This man did not. This man was an officer - and a goddamn good one, at that. Yael figured that she should have felt something when she caught his gaze, the look of despair written across his face; Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Yael opened her mouth to speak again once she pulled away. Just as she began to let the first few syllables out, a single knock came from the door. Two seconds later, a second. A nod from Hawke later and Young moved to open up the heavy wooden door. Out in the hall stood a green-looking Private carrying a folder, recent news from command. He eyed the scene and after double-taking, dry-heaved a single time as he reached out to pass the documentation out to the Pathfinder in the doorway.

 

With naught a word, Sergeant Young shut it in the boy's face and carried it back to Hawke.

 

"How are your kids on Rhohan doing, Lieutenant Jameson?" he asked after spying the folder for a few moments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[cat danny 25]

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

"The most outlandish one has got to be without a doubt, the B-9 psychological warfare. Because it was really stupid.."

September 21st, 2294

Outskirts of Moran, Endoran Territory, Barachian-Nine

Operation SCORPION

Yael Avraham, Corporal

 

Van and Bronson sat in the front of the jeep, heads bobbing along to the music that they had blaring over their loudspeaker. Troops operating in the red zones of the Endoran and Verona territories were told to start utilizing psychological warfare tactics against their enemies. As such, Games and Theory came up with the brilliant idea of blaring propaganda to their opposition. Lieutenant Bronson decided to follow this directive, albeit with a little coaxing from Van and Keira, went about it in a different way.

 

" ♫ Well she's the best girl I've ever had!" Van bellowed aloud, banging his hands against the steering wheel as they drove through the rural areas just outside of the capital. Pomeroy gripped a spare magazine and held it up to his face as if simulating a microphone. "I fought the law and the, law won! I fought the law and the, law won! ♫" He then passed it over to Yael during the instrumental bit. She picked it up during the next verse. "Robbin' people with a, six gun! I fought the law, and the-- g'oh, motherfucker!" she cried as a round smashed into the windshield, the muzzle flash visible from a small farmhouse not too terribly far off. The indent of the bullet stopped by the defensive screen was right in the middle of Van's face. He would have had a really bad day, if it weren't for the beautiful machinations of bulletproof glass.

 

"Open up on 'em! Give 'em hell! DeVantos, keep the vic' moving!" Bronson hollared as Van ducked down, barely peeking over the wheel now as he continued to drive. Keira opened up with the MG, tearing into the old wooden building with explosive autocannon rounds. It decimated the structure clean after naught but a few long bursts, a hundred and fifty or so rounds. "You like that, you hodji' motherfucker!?" the woman up on the gun screamed over the music blaring. Yael and Garry caught a glimpse of some fellow, half-dressed hauling ass through the cornfield out back.

 

"Let's go get that som'bitch!" Van suggested.

 

"I like the way you think, Corporal," Bronson replied.