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From Dusk til Dawn-Jiri Branislov's story

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Jiri Branislov


Age: 39

Occupation: Guerrilla marksman

Known Family: None

Religion: None

Personality: Cold And Calculated


The Slight rattle of the beaten up car's engine could be heard

"Jiri, Jiri Wake up its time to begin our assault."

Jiri reaches down and pulls out his Mosin, Jiri opens the car door and walks toward the edge of the hill tossing his backpack in front of him. He lays down resting his rifle on the backpack and takes a few deep breathes, "Pán nech môj prst potrebné konať rýchlo, aby som mohol zabiť svojho nepriateľa skôr, ako sa ma zabiť"

(lord let my finger be quick So that i may kill my enemy before they kill me)

Jiri reaches next to him and loads the ammo into his mosin dialing his scope in on the compound, the ground shook A bright light went through jiri's scope and then Chaos erupted. Two armoured pick up trucks rolled out of the woods shots rang out in every direction, Jiri found targets and dropped them, After five minutes of fighting It was calm the trucks drove away from the compound and Jiri begins to pack up. Jiri finishes packing his bag and slings his mosin over his shoulder, Upon turning around he notices a Chedaki solider holding his spotter at gunpoint the solider yells " Drop your weapons on the ground and put your hands on your head!"

Jiri found himself in a prison in Novy Sobor, The constant sound of artillery Guns could be heard, His spotter turned to him and asked why did you join "The National Party?"

Jiri said " Same reason we all did to stop the corruption." With that Jiri Turned over on his bunk and fell asleep

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A shrill shriek comes from a guard outside jiri's cell 3 gunshots jiri and his cellmate look at a man eating the guards face, Blood dripping from the deranged mans mouth A blood curdling shreik is heard as the man runs at the cell door. Prying to get in the man thrusts his hands all about. A mixture of blood and spit drips from his frothing mouth. Jiri Thinks fast so that he can get his opportunity to escape, Take that table and break the wooden leg off, NOW!" Jiri's Cell mate grabs the table leg and hands it to jiri. He then begins to beat the man to death without an ounce of remorse. Jiri then Searches the man and notices a pen. He then pulls the spring out of the pen and begins to pick the lock on his cell door.

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The sound Of panting and twigs snapping is all that can be heard as Jiri and his cell mate make their way through the woods. "Jiri Please stop I cant run any longer"

"why would you have me stop, So we can be shot?" Jiri shouted

"No Brother I... Im not in that good of shape."

Jiri Curses and rolls his eyes "3 minutes no longer" Jiri takes off his gloves and blows into his hands trying to stimulate them...

Jiri's cell mate looks at him "Jiri.. What was y" Crack A cool red Mist blows over jiri's face as his cell mates head goes limp and his body falls to the ground. Jiri Jumped behind the log scrambling for any type of weapon, his hands brush up against a rock a Russian accent shouted out to Jiri it said " tsk tsk tsk now why would you run from jail it was safe there"

Jiri Can hear the mans footsteps getting closer, CRUNCH...CRUNCH Jiris heart was pounding outside his chest he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The man was almost on top of jiri when he jumped up, Jiri smashed the man over the side of the face with the rock. The man stumbled and Jiri tackled him to the ground, The man reached for the pistol in his boot but Jiri Kicked it out of his hands and proceeded to choke the man to death. After the struggle Jiri found himself holding a lifeless corpse in his hands, Jiri strangely dosn't feel a thing all he can think of is what was a Russian doing hunting him.

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Journal Entry 1

A few days Ago me And Brother Vilem were patrolling around the northwestern airfield, After dismissing the fact we were in danger from looking around for snipers or cannibals we moved to the control tower and waited. A few moments of waiting was all it took, We ran into a greek had a chat with him and now he knows not to trust a Russian we followed him for a minute to make sure he hadnt lied to us and then we left him only moments later running into a real Russian one born there that filthy shit. He begged for food but guess what we found in his backpack a red beret russians... we Interrogated him he was a mercenary non the less harming our motherland, So we executed him.

-Jiri Barislov


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Journal Entry 2

They say I'm Heartless. They say I kill without feeling, but how can you feel in a place where feeling is falsely shown. Hidden in the shadows Is our feeling it lurks forgotten a minor speck in our mind. The only thing I can trust is my brothers in the party and myself. I have been many places fought many people but not once can I say i felt anything other than the recoil my rifle provided me so instantly. I grew attached to this feeling killing became instinctual. I played games with it kept count of those who died because of me. However people think of me a monster they say I take so many opportunities from this world when I kill a man. I simply reply "Yes... But I also create many with those I kill. Those men I shot its not pleasure its making a difference to my country and possibly the world."

For my rifle I am grateful I may Change present and future with the single pull of a trigger...

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