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Author Topic: Tactics Team (Bridie's Prologue is Up!)  (Read 4616 times)
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fatedicewolf
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« on: October 14, 2010, 08:05:52 pm »

Hello everyone!

Some may know me from the Exchange or my separate writing website as "fatedicewolf28." I wrote on the Exchange for awhile, wrote countless stories which I abandoned half of.

One of my stories I think some might know in "You'll Never Know Me" (YNKM) which was my reply to all those annoying vampire love stories which were carbon copies of Twilight *shivers* (lol don't worry, it's not about vampires at ALL).

Another one you may know is "You're My Obsession" (YMO) which is kind of a 'how to avoid psychopaths' and a 'don't get involved with strange, much older men you just met.' May seem like it's a given but you'd be surprised how many girls I knew in middle school who were dating 30 year olds. Oh, and YMO is based off of real missing cases of young teenage girls. Doesn't that make it even scarier? You can check out YMO here: www.youaremyobsession.webs.com

Anyways, this is my ***new*** story I've been brainstorming for about a week (any longer and I would hate it lol). I hope you like Cheesy

I'll get the prologue up this weekend when I'm not studying for a test Smiley

Bridie Spencer:

A former US Marine with a specialty in tactical warfare. Graduated from US Merchant Marine Academy, top in her class. She petitioned the Governor to allow her to join the Tactics Team which goes undercover to prevent trouble on US soil. She is the leader of her specialty group.



"Anora":

Computer specialist. Graduated from MIT. Tracks down hackers.



"Vara":

Sniper specialist. Has no known background.



Rivika de Gris:

Hostage Negotiator. Holds a Master's in Psychology. Graduated in the top of her class. Has no prior law enforcement or military experience.


« Last Edit: October 17, 2010, 08:44:40 pm by fatedicewolf » Logged
fatedicewolf
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« Reply #1 on: October 15, 2010, 10:35:54 pm »

Lt. Brandon Roy’s Letter of Resignation

In the time you will learn everything, people will already be dead. I made a mistake and that’s something I’m going to have to live with.

Let me make this clear, I didn’t make the mistake willingly. I was all against women being on the team especially ones with no past. Surprisingly, the ones whose background read like Swiss cheese will be the least of your problems, Commander.

I cannot, will not, stand by and be held liable for the events which are about to transpire. I’m sure you’ll sit on this note, thinking I’m loony while secretly wondering if I’m right.

No need to worry, Commander. I’ve sent a copy of my resignation to your boss, the President. I’m sure he’ll see eye-to-eye with me on the problem.

I told you not to hire them. I told you they were all suspicious.

But, you wouldn’t listen…


Two Years Before…
Brooklyn, New York

“To Rivika!” Count De Gris raised his wine glass high, “My darling child, you do me proud. Your Master’s in Psychology and soon – a Ph.D, just like your mother.”

If Rivika could’ve die at that moment, she would’ve. She hated socializing, she hated parties, and most of all – she hated being the center of attention. But, that was the problem with being an only child. Rivika had always been the center of her parents’ world. Her mother, Dr. Delancy-De Gris was a world renowned psychologist married to the richest and possibly most-enlightened man on the French-Italian border, Count De Gris. Both were well-known and respected, which only caused Rivika more pain.

Did everyone in this ballroom expect her to be just like her parents? A world-renown psychologist and future Countess of her father’s estate?

The thought was too much for her to bear. She’d always been an obedient, intelligent, quiet child. She never went out to parties; she never really had any close ‘girlfriends.’ She wasn’t completely socially awkward though. Most of her nights as a child and teen were spent at galas and parties thrown in her parents’ honor.

Once the toast of what was expected of her ended, Rivika took advantage of the people flooding over to congratulate her and ducked out in the crowd. Like a snake, she slithered her way out of the ballroom, in a ridiculously thick ballroom dress.

Rivika snuck out of the apartment building as quiet as a mouse, pretending she had to duck out for a smoke to anyone who stopped her along the way.



Finally, she found solitude on the gardener’s rooftop, adjacent to the party. She looked down on the people dancing so merrily in the ballroom with a twinge of disgust. They were so superficial to her. Each had come to her graduation party only to show off the most decked out gift. Half of the clothing in there, she was she’d never ever wear.

Before the strong temptation in her could cause her to do anything reckless like perhaps throwing a rake through the colossal windows, she jerked away. The garden which surrounded the apartment building, took her breath away. She felt at ease in nature. There was no Freudian theories judging her every second of the day, no Binet measuring her intelligence, it was just her and the first creations on Earth, a notion which made her all too happy.



A burning sensation spread through Rivika’s back like a wild-fire. She had a feeling she wasn’t alone. In fact, it was like someone was staring at, intensely.

Sure, enough, there he was. Who was ‘he’ exactly? The distant cousin of a friend of a friend of a distant cousin of hers, an arrogant foreigner. He argued with her all night on how Karl Marx was a visionary. She had respect for his sociology theories but as an American, who loved democracy more than anything, she had to disagree with socialism.



“We didn’t get to finish our talk earlier,” his smile broadened as he caught the distressed look on her face, “Or have you admitted defeat?”

“Never,” she replied sharply, “A De Gris never surrenders.”

Out of nowhere, the young man broke down in laughter, clutching his sides painfully, “Cute.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A Degree never surrenders,” he laughed, “You realize your name sounds like that?”

Rivika, too, broke down in laughter and she’d never been one for jokes, especially when they pertained to her family. All her life, her parents had been so dead serious about the honor of being a De Gris. Her father even brought her into his study when she was twelve, just to show her the most precious family heirloom – the sword of Julius Caesar.

The story which she was forced to memorize by heart and tell every year on the Ides of March ironically, went supposedly like this – Julius Caesar was thrown from his horse in battle, injuring himself severely. No one was near to help him, except some poor farm boy who only had a donkey to give. The poor farm boy didn’t know who Julius Caesar was for he lived in the wilderness, on the border of Gaul (modern-day France) and Italy. He gave the horse to Caesar, who in turn gave him his less-elegant sword and made him a lord of his land.


“Oh, Blue Moon,” the man grinned, “I learned to dance to this song.”

“Pardon?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Princess?” The man joked, “I was wondering if you want to dance or are you not allowed to even touch a guy before you get your Ph.D?”

“Hey!” Rivika instantly went red, “There’s nothing wrong with a little ambition!”

“But,” the man interjected, “There’s something wrong when it’s not your ambition.” Words failed Rivika for the first time in her twenty-four years of life. Everything he said was true. Rivika could careless for psychology. It was her parents who were pushing for that Ph.D, not her.



“Fine!” Rivika jerked the man’s hand onto her hip, and growled in reply, “We dance, and then you go!”

The man was satisfied with his victory; he’d had his eyes on the rich, influential Rivika De Gris for some time. He’d just been waiting for an opportunity to be alone with her.



“Do you like to be called Rivika or what?”

“Just dance then disappear.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “Have a little fun and stop being so darn uptight.”

“Fine,” she snapped back, “I like to be called ‘Vivy.’ My mom calls me that all the time.”

“Vivy, Vivy…”

“Don’t make fun of my name…”

“Oh, I wasn’t, honest. I like it. Much more beautiful than ‘Rivika.’”

“It’s an old family name.”

“I know. Your old man’s all for tradition, huh?”

“Yeah, he is. I kinda hate that.”

“Hey,” he smiled widely, “At least you know where you come from.”
“You don’t?”

“My old man got blown away when I was 3.”

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he quickly shrugged it off, “He was a tourist in a war-torn country. It happens.”

“You know, you’ve never once told me your name.”

“Sorry, it’s Nathan.”



The rest of the night, Rivika could’ve sworn she’d died and gone to Heaven. Nathan told her everything about his life and inquired more and more about hers. She’d never been into dating anyone, really, but the few she had dated were either boring and stale or conceited and stale.

But, this one made her feel free to run away from the responsibilities her parents had put on her from the moment she was born until now.



Before she knew it, his lips were pressed against hers and she was praying for this night to never end.

The grandfather clock on the apartment complex struck midnight and Rivika felt herself fading away. Midnight always meant the end in fairy tales and she feared hers was over.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know?”

“Yes, it does,” she whispered, “My parents will constantly be on my case to finish my Ph.D.”

“Not if we’re in Hawaii.”

“What?” She gasped. Did he just honestly say ‘Hawaii’? An island paradise that only hormonal, illogical teens would suggest?

“Come on, you’re an adult, Vivy. Run away with me, do something stupid for once!”

Rivika couldn’t believe what she was hearing. No reasonable person said that in real life, they just didn’t. Throw off the shackles of reality for a good time? Heavens, no! Bills had to be paid, classes had to be attended, and all reality took precedence! “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Why not?”

Six Weeks Later…



She’d honestly done it. She ran off to Hawaii with Nathan, a man she hadn’t known for long. This wasn’t the Rivika De Gris, her parents had risen! But, she couldn’t say she regretted any of it so far. She’d even done something she could never tell her parents about – she’d actually married Nathan. On a beach in Maui, they were married by a friend of Nathan’s. Of course, it wasn’t legally binding until they submitted their marriage license but still – it had been done on impulse.

Nathan pressured the brake down on his motorcycle and brought it to a gentle stop. The house he’d promised her looked like a dump. Of course, that had been brought on impulse, too. It was their dream house they just had to be fixed or at least that’s what they had to keep telling themselves.



Rivika slid over to her husband on the couch to cuddle and have a little ‘pillow talk.’ For so long, everything in her life had been done with guidelines and rules, and now that they had been thrown out the window, she could honestly classify herself as ‘happy.’

Just as Nathan moved in for a kiss, his elbow had hit the remote for the TV which lay in between them. The TV which looked like it’d been salvaged from a dump yard, roared louder than a plasma. The news screamed through the TV another unfortunate story:

“The military is still investigating the bombing of a base in classified city in Northern Africa. So far, officials won’t give any comment to the location of the classified base but they do have a suspect, a one – N-“

“Hey, honey,” Nathan’s voice shot up the news, “Wanna see if the refrigerator works? I know if I eat out at another seafood restaurant I’m going to throw up. We need to get some groceries.”

“Sure, dear.”



Rivika walked off to the kitchen, care-free, while the inner being of Nathan shook violently. He never thought they’d do it. He never thought they’d pin him for it either. It was unfair. He had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time. If only he hadn’t gone over to that orphanage at the last moment, they’d never think he did it.

His father’s comrades swore no one was going to get hurt, but they’d lied. Furthermore, they’d set him up, making him look like some evil monster.


As if the thought of countries out to execute for the crimes they were so convinced he’d done, weren’t enough to scare him, the thought of Rivika leaving him was. If she left him, he didn’t know how he’d go on. Of course, if she did leave him, he couldn’t blame her, now could he?

He desperately searched for the right words inside to tell her his side of the story but words failed him. Either way he looked at it, he was still somewhat guilty.



“Honey,” Rivika giggled, “There’s some food already in there. It’s not expired or-“

“THE SUSPECT IS CONSIDERED HIGHLY DANGEROUS. PLEASE, CONTACT YOUR LOCAL FBI OFFICE IF YOU SEE HIM!”

Before Nathan could explain, his picture and name flashed across the screen and Rivika turned paler than a ghost.



“Oh, My God! You’re a terrorist! I should’ve known. How could I be so stupid?!”

“I was wrongfully accused,” he replied lamely.



Tears poured out of her eyes, non-stop. She felt lost, heart-broken, and most of all, stupid. Do everything on a whim, ha! There was a reason her parents had rules and guidelines for everything. She should’ve kept to them!



“Look, I didn’t think I would get accused, okay? That’s why I never said anything. I was near the base when it blew up but I had nothing to do with it, I swear!”

Deep down, Rivika believed him but the evidence… The undercover MPs didn’t just go around accusing anyone, especially random citizens.

“Please,” he begged, “Don’t tell me I’ve lost you!”

“I don’t want to have to run my whole life, Nathan.”

“I understand.”

“That’s why,” Rivika whispered, “I’m going to get your name cleared.”

“How?!”

“My father happens to be one of the biggest financial contributors to an anti-terrorism team. It’s fairly new. I’m going to join and open a case on your investigation.”

“I love you, Vivy.”

“I love you, too, Nathan. I won’t stop until I’ve proven your innocence.”

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RainbowPortal
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« Reply #2 on: October 17, 2010, 04:54:23 pm »

Lt. Brandon Roy’s Letter of Resignation

In the time you will learn everything, people will already be dead. I made a mistake and that’s something I’m going to have to live with.

Let me make this clear, I didn’t make the mistake willingly. I was all against women being on the team especially ones with no past. Surprisingly, the ones whose background read like Swiss cheese will be the least of your problems, Commander.

I cannot, will not, stand by and be held liable for the events which are about to transpire. I’m sure you’ll sit on this note, thinking I’m loony while secretly wondering if I’m right.

No need to worry, Commander. I’ve sent a copy of my resignation to your boss, the President. I’m sure he’ll see eye-to-eye with me on the problem.

I told you not to hire them. I told you they were all suspicious.

But, you wouldn’t listen…


Two Years Before…
Brooklyn, New York

“To Rivika!” Count De Gris raised his wine glass high, “My darling child, you do me proud. Your Master’s in Psychology and soon – a Ph.D, just like your mother.”

If Rivika could’ve die at that moment, she would’ve. She hated socializing, she hated parties, and most of all – she hated being the center of attention. But, that was the problem with being an only child. Rivika had always been the center of her parents’ world. Her mother, Dr. Delancy-De Gris was a world renowned psychologist married to the richest and possibly most-enlightened man on the French-Italian border, Count De Gris. Both were well-known and respected, which only caused Rivika more pain.

Did everyone in this ballroom expect her to be just like her parents? A world-renown psychologist and future Countess of her father’s estate?

The thought was too much for her to bear. She’d always been an obedient, intelligent, quiet child. She never went out to parties; she never really had any close ‘girlfriends.’ She wasn’t completely socially awkward though. Most of her nights as a child and teen were spent at galas and parties thrown in her parents’ honor.

Once the toast of what was expected of her ended, Rivika took advantage of the people flooding over to congratulate her and ducked out in the crowd. Like a snake, she slithered her way out of the ballroom, in a ridiculously thick ballroom dress.

Rivika snuck out of the apartment building as quiet as a mouse, pretending she had to duck out for a smoke to anyone who stopped her along the way.

<snip>

Finally, she found solitude on the gardener’s rooftop, adjacent to the party. She looked down on the people dancing so merrily in the ballroom with a twinge of disgust. They were so superficial to her. Each had come to her graduation party only to show off the most decked out gift. Half of the clothing in there, she was she’d never ever wear.

Before the strong temptation in her could cause her to do anything reckless like perhaps throwing a rake through the colossal windows, she jerked away. The garden which surrounded the apartment building, took her breath away. She felt at ease in nature. There was no Freudian theories judging her every second of the day, no Binet measuring her intelligence, it was just her and the first creations on Earth, a notion which made her all too happy.

<snip>

A burning sensation spread through Rivika’s back like a wild-fire. She had a feeling she wasn’t alone. In fact, it was like someone was staring at, intensely.

Sure, enough, there he was. Who was ‘he’ exactly? The distant cousin of a friend of a friend of a distant cousin of hers, an arrogant foreigner. He argued with her all night on how Karl Marx was a visionary. She had respect for his sociology theories but as an American, who loved democracy more than anything, she had to disagree with socialism.

<snip>

“We didn’t get to finish our talk earlier,” his smile broadened as he caught the distressed look on her face, “Or have you admitted defeat?”

“Never,” she replied sharply, “A De Gris never surrenders.”

Out of nowhere, the young man broke down in laughter, clutching his sides painfully, “Cute.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A Degree never surrenders,” he laughed, “You realize your name sounds like that?”

Rivika, too, broke down in laughter and she’d never been one for jokes. She must of hurt her back because she was suddenly in pain. Then she applied the topical analgesic and it stopped hurting. I guess she will have arthritis now. Especially when they pertained to her family. All her life, her parents had been so dead serious about the honor of being a De Gris. Her father even brought her into his study when she was twelve, just to show her the most precious family heirloom – the sword of Julius Caesar.

The story which she was forced to memorize by heart and tell every year on the Ides of March ironically, went supposedly like this – Julius Caesar was thrown from his horse in battle, injuring himself severely. No one was near to help him, except some poor farm boy who only had a donkey to give. The poor farm boy didn’t know who Julius Caesar was for he lived in the wilderness, on the border of Gaul (modern-day France) and Italy. He gave the horse to Caesar, who in turn gave him his less-elegant sword and made him a lord of his land.
<snip>

“Oh, Blue Moon,” the man grinned, “I learned to dance to this song.”

“Pardon?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Princess?” The man joked, “I was wondering if you want to dance or are you not allowed to even touch a guy before you get your Ph.D?”

“Hey!” Rivika instantly went red, “There’s nothing wrong with a little ambition!”

“But,” the man interjected, “There’s something wrong when it’s not your ambition.” Words failed Rivika for the first time in her twenty-four years of life. Everything he said was true. Rivika could careless for psychology. It was her parents who were pushing for that Ph.D, not her.

<snip>

“Fine!” Rivika jerked the man’s hand onto her hip, and growled in reply, “We dance, and then you go!”

The man was satisfied with his victory; he’d had his eyes on the rich, influential Rivika De Gris for some time. He’d just been waiting for an opportunity to be alone with her.

<snip>

“Do you like to be called Rivika or what?”

“Just dance then disappear.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “Have a little fun and stop being so darn uptight.”

“Fine,” she snapped back, “I like to be called ‘Vivy.’ My mom calls me that all the time.”

“Vivy, Vivy…”

“Don’t make fun of my name…”

“Oh, I wasn’t, honest. I like it. Much more beautiful than ‘Rivika.’”

“It’s an old family name.”

“I know. Your old man’s all for tradition, huh?”

“Yeah, he is. I kinda hate that.”

“Hey,” he smiled widely, “At least you know where you come from.”
“You don’t?”

“My old man got blown away when I was 3.”

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he quickly shrugged it off, “He was a tourist in a war-torn country. It happens.”

“You know, you’ve never once told me your name.”

“Sorry, it’s Nathan.”

<snip>

The rest of the night, Rivika could’ve sworn she’d died and gone to Heaven. Nathan told her everything about his life and inquired more and more about hers. She’d never been into dating anyone, really, but the few she had dated were either boring and stale or conceited and stale.

But, this one made her feel free to run away from the responsibilities her parents had put on her from the moment she was born until now.

<snip>

Before she knew it, his lips were pressed against hers and she was praying for this night to never end.

The grandfather clock on the apartment complex struck midnight and Rivika felt herself fading away. Midnight always meant the end in fairy tales and she feared hers was over.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know?”

“Yes, it does,” she whispered, “My parents will constantly be on my case to finish my Ph.D.”

“Not if we’re in Hawaii.”

“What?” She gasped. Did he just honestly say ‘Hawaii’? An island paradise that only hormonal, illogical teens would suggest?

“Come on, you’re an adult, Vivy. Run away with me, do something stupid for once!”

Rivika couldn’t believe what she was hearing. No reasonable person said that in real life, they just didn’t. Throw off the shackles of reality for a good time? Heavens, no! Bills had to be paid, classes had to be attended, and all reality took precedence! “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Why not?” well he said, "I have a nail infection, and I need a treatment". she replied, "then get yourself a natural nail fungus treatment, for goodness sake!"

Six Weeks Later…

<snip>

She’d honestly done it. She ran off to Hawaii with Nathan, a man she hadn’t known for long. This wasn’t the Rivika De Gris, her parents had risen! But, she couldn’t say she regretted any of it so far. She’d even done something she could never tell her parents about – she’d actually married Nathan. On a beach in Maui, they were married by a friend of Nathan’s. Of course, it wasn’t legally binding until they submitted their marriage license but still – it had been done on impulse.

Nathan pressured the brake down on his motorcycle and brought it to a gentle stop. The house he’d promised her looked like a dump. Of course, that had been brought on impulse, too. It was their dream house they just had to be fixed or at least that’s what they had to keep telling themselves.

<snip>

Rivika slid over to her husband on the couch to cuddle and have a little ‘pillow talk.’ For so long, everything in her life had been done with guidelines and rules, and now that they had been thrown out the window, she could honestly classify herself as ‘happy.’

Just as Nathan moved in for a kiss, his elbow had hit the remote for the TV which lay in between them. The TV which looked like it’d been salvaged from a dump yard, roared louder than a plasma. The news screamed through the TV another unfortunate story:

“The military is still investigating the bombing of a base in classified city in Northern Africa. So far, officials won’t give any comment to the location of the classified base but they do have a suspect, a one – N-“

“Hey, honey,” Nathan’s voice shot up the news, “Wanna see if the refrigerator works? I know if I eat out at another seafood restaurant I’m going to throw up. We need to get some groceries.”

“Sure, dear.”

<snip>

Rivika walked off to the kitchen, care-free, while the inner being of Nathan shook violently. He never thought they’d do it. He never thought they’d pin him for it either. It was unfair. He had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time. If only he hadn’t gone over to that orphanage at the last moment, they’d never think he did it.

His father’s comrades swore no one was going to get hurt, but they’d lied. Furthermore, they’d set him up, making him look like some evil monster.

<snip>

As if the thought of countries out to execute for the crimes they were so convinced he’d done, weren’t enough to scare him, the thought of Rivika leaving him was. If she left him, he didn’t know how he’d go on. Of course, if she did leave him, he couldn’t blame her, now could he?

He desperately searched for the right words inside to tell her his side of the story but words failed him. Either way he looked at it, he was still somewhat guilty.

<snip>

“Honey,” Rivika giggled, “There’s some food already in there. It’s not expired or-“

“THE SUSPECT IS CONSIDERED HIGHLY DANGEROUS. PLEASE, CONTACT YOUR LOCAL FBI OFFICE IF YOU SEE HIM!”

Before Nathan could explain, his picture and name flashed across the screen and Rivika turned paler than a ghost.

<snip>

“Oh, My God! You’re a terrorist! I should’ve known. How could I be so stupid?!”

“I was wrongfully accused,” he replied lamely.

<snip>

Tears poured out of her eyes, non-stop. She felt lost, heart-broken, and most of all, stupid. Do everything on a whim, ha! There was a reason her parents had rules and guidelines for everything. She should’ve kept to them!

<snip>

“Look, I didn’t think I would get accused, okay? That’s why I never said anything. I was near the base when it blew up but I had nothing to do with it, I swear!”

Deep down, Rivika believed him but the evidence… The undercover MPs didn’t just go around accusing anyone, especially random citizens.

“Please,” he begged, “Don’t tell me I’ve lost you!”

“I don’t want to have to run my whole life, Nathan.”

“I understand.”

“That’s why,” Rivika whispered, “I’m going to get your name cleared.”

“How?!”

“My father happens to be one of the biggest financial contributors to an anti-terrorism team. It’s fairly new. I’m going to join and open a case on your investigation.”

“I love you, Vivy.”

“I love you, too, Nathan. I won’t stop until I’ve proven your innocence.”



Thats good writing, makes me feel like Im there. Those girls are gorgeous too.
___________________
fushigi ball how it works
« Last Edit: August 21, 2012, 10:40:32 am by caffeinated.joy » Logged
fatedicewolf
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« Reply #3 on: October 17, 2010, 07:24:32 pm »

Ah, thanks Smiley Rivika, Bridie, and Vara are all made by me, completely unique. My friend made Anora Smiley
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fatedicewolf
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« Reply #4 on: October 17, 2010, 08:44:13 pm »

WARNING: The material you are about to read is a little brutal. I 'blurred' the details a bit to lessen the horror. There are no pictures for the first part for obvious reasons. I try to give an accurate picture of events that were common in our world history in the 80s and 90s. If you are at all bothered by child soldiers, please do not read. This will be the only ultra-sensitive chapter, I assure.

Fourteen Years Before…

All of the children stood in a perfect line. One step out of place and they’d all be dead. From seven to fifteen years old, they were the sole survivors of the abduction of their plane. Last night, they were all of their way to merry old England for the holidays and next moment, three men with automatic rifles are yelling at them.

The pilot landed the plane on an unchartered island near Central America or so the abductors claimed. The pilot never had a chance to tell anyone before his brains were blown out in his cabin. Within the hour, the infants and toddlers were jerked from their mother’s arms and carried away by soldiers. What became of them was unknown.

Bridie, the daughter of a US Army Lieutenant Colonel, assumed they were going to be raised as child soldiers. How did she come about this conclusion?

Within the second hour of landing of the island, all their men sixteen and up were shot right in front of the children. Blood had splattered everywhere and on everyone. Bridie, herself, was garnished in the blood of a doctor, head-to-toe.

The worst was yet to come.

The leader of the guerilla militants stood before the children, pursing his lips. One by one, he picked off which children were useless to his cause. Then he came to Bridie.

He stroked his goatee while he glared at the young girl. She was right at the mark where she could be killed or used for cleaning around the camp. Her jaw was prominent and strong – a characteristic he often associated with strong-resistance.

“Sir, just kill her, she’s a weakling,” his comrade urged on.

“No, she has a strong jaw – she’ll weather it, I assure you.”

Most people would’ve been glad to hear that, to know they were going to live, instead of being slaughtered like the rest before them. But, as Bridie searched their eyes, she only felt more danger coming. The worst was yet to come for the young teen…

“PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT OR DIE!” The sergeant screamed at Bridie and her twelve year old comrade. They were the first of the rest of the comrades to make it to the ‘Confidence Climb’, a thirty foot tall wall. Most of the planks on the wall had been removed, making it near impossible to climb. But, the fourteen children who managed to survive had no choice – the last two children done on the course would be executed.

Bridie scaled the wall with magnificence, sending her abductors into complete and total awe. This wasn’t completely unfamiliar to her. Her father was a Lieutenant in the US Army. Every time he brought her to his job at the base, he’d always left her go play on the obstacle course. The obstacle course had been a challenge for her at first as a kid, but she eventually grew the muscles to scale the Confidence Climb and the barricade’s wall, the two hardest tasks on the standard military obstacle course.

Bridie barely managed to come in first, thanks to the twelve year old boy who had been neck and neck with her the whole time. He had tried his very hardest to knock her down during the last part of the obstacle – the Slope run, which was just as it sounded, running down a muddle slope while trying to avoid all the barbwire fences thrown in the mix.

When everyone made it across, it was a grave moment. The two last to make it across was a thirteen year old brother and fourteen year old sister. All the children were made to watch as the sergeant lifted his sword above the pair. As the sword came down, Bridie’s eyes were veiled by a man’s rough hands.

Bridie, for once in her life, welcomed not knowing. She didn’t know if the children suffered or if it was swift. She heard two loud thuds and did everything to contain herself. Any outburst of emotion would instantly make her the next victim.

She heard the man who had covered her eyes, whisper to all the children, “think of it as a video game. You guys like Metal Gear and Resident Evil? This is what this is.”

Bridie never caught a glimpse of the man who had already walked off by the time the sergeant came back. “That is what happens to losers. Catch up with the two blondes there,” he motioned toward Bridie and the twelve year old boy who almost beat her, “And you’ll never have to worry about that being you.”

The sergeant released the young soldiers-in-the-making, much to everyone’s relief. No more death today, they all prayed.



Bridie felt chilled to the bone. She was terrified to go to sleep. Would she be killed if she snored? Who knows? Every little minor thing that might annoy people where she came from, caused them to get killed here, a notion that terrified her.



He watched her intently from a distance for he, too, knew the rules. Never become close to a comrade. That’s what that little girl was a comrade. As much as he kept repeating his conditioning to himself, which apparently had not worked, he still felt pity for the young girl. She reminded him of when he was abducted on a ship ten years ago.

So afraid, so alone… His conditioning to not feel empathy had failed miserably. He’d stepped out of line completely since the new comrades arrived. He protested the abduction. He tried to convince them to let the children go. He’d even covered Bridie’s eyes and told the children what they were seeing was a video game, ha! If only that were true.

The secret act he had just done meant death, but he had plans for him and the children to be long before then.



“Bridie,” he cleared his voice, “Bridie.” Bridie spun around to come face-to-face with the man who spared her the most traumatizing sight she could’ve ever seen. Bridie slowly backed away, scared of what might happen.

Bridie, to him, looked exactly like her mother with her father’s jaw. Normally, an unattractive trait in women, it looked good on her. She didn’t seem dainty in all the pictures he’d seen when he went through her suitcase, but now? She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“What do you want?”

“You’re freezing.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” she begged for forgiveness, “I won’t freeze, I swear!”

He felt an instant touch of déjà vu. She was exactly like him, when he was made to trudge through the Andes in South America. He had completed the first stage of his training and was one of three survivors, but still his nerves shook badly.

“Come on, kid.”



He threw a pitiful thin blanket over her legs, cursing himself for not having something warmer for the young girl. He leaned against her, hoping she’d get warmer. She was cold enough and certainly, worn-out enough to contract pneumonia.

“How did y-y-you kn-know my name?” Bridie’s teeth chattered.

“We go through all of the passports. Your father’s in the Army, hmm?”

“Lieutenant Colonel…”

“Lt. Colonel Andrew Spencer.”

“How do y-y-you kn-know th-that?”

“I just spoke with him on the radio, Bridie. I told him our coordinates. I told him all the children were kept in shacks and made to clean our laundry.”

“Why?” Bridie searched his eyes intently; realizing the real answer lay before her. No parent could really take the truth. Their children were being conditioned to become soldiers.

“Bridie, they’ll be here soon. Thank care of yourself, kid, eh?”

The man rose to walk away from the confused Bridie. Bridie grasped his wrist before he could walk away. She owed him her life, “Please, I don’t even know your name!”

“Neither do I,” the man pitifully replied, “They beat it out of me. I can’t even remember what my parents looked like or if I had any.”

Chaos flared up within the hour. The guerilla soldiers ran everywhere, trying to escape the US Army soldiers who landed on the beach with quite a ruckus. Bridie guarded the children while she waited to recognize any of the Army soldiers there. Her father would’ve only brought along men he could trust.

Finally, she recognized one. A handsome, six foot, five man with broad shoulders and a boisterous laugh but only on holidays, with a Southern accent that made her mother giggle, “Dad!”

The man whirled around and caught sight of his only child and most precious gift in life, “Bridie!”

In the weeks that followed, all the survivors (the women, children, and teens) made a pact – no one would ever know the truth. It would crush all the families if they knew of the beatings, if they knew of the executions.

Fourteen years later…



She’d done her mom and dad rightfully proud.  She’d graduated from high school early, with honors, of course. She’d gone to the US Merchant Marine Academy like most of the men in her family. She had squashed guerilla troops all around the world, like the ones who had once abducted her.

She was decorated with Valor and was discharged honorably for her time served in the Middle East. She made the whole Spencer family proud.

In other words, she hadn’t had much time for me. She was overjoyed when found me in Northern Russia, hiding up there with some old comrades. She tried, God help her, she tried to kill me but she let me go, instead.

She caught me again, in the Congo. Again, she tried to pull the trigger but let me go, instead. She wanted to pay me back for everything I did, down in Central America. She shouldn’t, though. I can’t function in the real world like her. Years of torture and conditioning have turned e into a soldier for life.

I peaked around the corner, making sure she was still asleep. She always awoke to footsteps of her co-workers but never to mine, strangely enough.



“Bridie, it’s Taylor,” I hissed. I kept vigil for any of her co-workers who lived in the same house with her. I wouldn’t blame them for killing me on sight. It is their job.

Bridie didn’t stir at all. She stayed asleep, despite my hissing and conjoling.



I should not be here, I should not be here. But, then again, when has that stopped me? Every time, I saw her and her troops coming ahead of time, but I stayed. I wanted just to see her again, to know if she was okay. She even started meeting me at rendezvous spots, just to urge me to run and hide.

She tolerated my demands and always caved into them but anyone else? Their demands were ignored. What made me so different? The fact that I cared for her and those children?

 

As I moved closer to her bed, I fought the urge to laugh. Bridie had never been a trusting soul, even before she was abducted. There, under her trigger finger, lay a pistol with a suppressor. She always prepared herself for the worst.



I slid down on the corner of her bed, next to her, catching a whiff of her lilac perfume I’d given her in Moscow. It smelled even better on her.

I used to see her as a child who was defenseless, but fourteen years changes one’s opinion, doesn’t it? I see her now as a beautiful, no gorgeous, goddess who has me at ‘don’t anybody move!’ I keep tabs on her, everywhere she goes as I’m sure she does on me. Some may see as a dysfunctional relationship but I prefer to call us a ‘vigil couple.’

Of course, I’m sure she doesn’t even know what I think or feel about her. She sees me as the ‘old friend.’



My hand slid over hers, cautiously. Too fast and she might blow a hole in my leg. “Bridie, it’s Taylor.”

“Hmm?” She murmured in her asleep, still unaware of me.

“Sh-Sh, Bridie.”



She curled up in my arms like a little child, completely serene. In a way, I felt a part of her. She’d shared with me her dreams and ambitions every time we met up. She only trusted me to keep her safe. She’d even joke about me being an angel.
Constantly, I’d try to crash her dreams and tell her I was just as bad as those who tortured her. She’d shake her head violently and deny such things. To her, I was the best man who ever walked in her life. She grandiose me in every sense, which just made me feel guilty every time she caught me working as a contractor for guerilla troops.

I began to get up out of bed. I couldn’t stay long or her co-workers would catch me and send me to a place where people like me don’t come out alive.

Bridie tugged at me shirt, drawing me closer, “Taylor, don’t leave.”

“How long do you want me to stay?”

“Forever?”
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Nonni
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« Reply #5 on: October 17, 2010, 08:48:15 pm »

Wow! Awesome, thanks.
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Isaac Newton defined tact as "the art of making a point without making an enemy."
fatedicewolf
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« Reply #6 on: October 17, 2010, 08:52:17 pm »

Wow, thanks, Nonni! I haven't written a story in so long, so I was kinda nervous about releasing this one Wink
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