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Brakster

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  1. Sprigs of Hemlock

    Sprigs of Hemlock The First One The wind whistled towards him up the hill as he sat and watched his previous location of dwelling, Stary Sobor. There was a small military compound filled with tents and watchtowers, he didn't remember that being there but it had been a while since he had been here. In a way, it was good to be back. It reminded him of simpler times when the sheep had gone about their day to day business without a care in the world, oblivious of the wolf among them. Jesse stood from his squatting position on the mound and checked the road leading to Kabanino with a pair of binoculars. There was surprisingly little traffic. Though he would have to wait longer, this way he had less chance of getting caught and someone trying to play hero. Picking up his backpack from the sodden ground, he set off at a jogging pace to the east. The forest began to thin and Jesse pushed himself through a clutching array of ferns and laid foot on the road. He looked left and right, a habit from when cars were still around. Jesse chuckled at himself and began a steady walk to Kabanino. He had taken a moment to check his watch and it seemed as if the man had appeared right in front of him. He was bulky, wearing a bandana around his face. He had unsettling eyes and though he could not see his mouth, he could tell that he was smiling maniacally. They stood in silence looking at each other for a time, only the husky breathing of the man cutting the air between them. Jesse decided he would start. 'Hello, pleasure to meet you, I'm Jesse.' The man glared at him still. '... And you are?' He glared on but suddenly burst into action as if the 'Social' switch had just been flicked. 'Clint Ivory, nice to meet you.' He had an impossibly husky voice and a set of mannerisms that instantly insinuated that he was a murderer. 'So what you up to around these parts?' 'I'm looking for someone - well, people.' 'What people?' Jesse hesitated for a moment and said with a smile: 'Weak ones.' Clint began to chuckle and put an intruding hand on his shoulder. Jesse's eyes panned it uncomfortably. 'I think I get what you mean.' Clint nodded his head slowly. 'Seems we're pretty much looking for the same thing.' The same thing... Jesse thought. It was possible he was a cannibal, he had heard some finite news of such people. Even so, he would not eat with him, he seemed savage and barbaric though with a strange charm. For some inexplicable reason, he was liking him more and more every second. He could be of some use as not only a companion but a witness to Jesse's design. 'Could we join forces then?' Jesse offered. He heard Clint exhale with an almost sexual grunt, causing Jesse to shift anxiously for a moment. 'Hmmm, sure. Two guns are better than one.' Jesse smiled at him and they slowly walked towards Kabanino. After a mere two minutes, it seemed they had their man. They made small talk, how each other were, the possibility of a trade. Jesse began to wander behind the man but Clint kept his attention forward as well as he could. After a few moments, Jesse raised his AK to the man's head, pushing the cold steel against his scalp. 'If you would kindly hand your weapon slowly behind you to me then follow Mr Ivory, it would be much appreciated.' He slowly passed it backwards and he slung it over his shoulder. Clint took them deep into a forest and in a small clearing he set the man down, patting him on the head and reminding him of his new moniker: Shitsack. He knelt down about ten centimetres away from Shitsack's face. 'What's your name?' 'I d-' 'WHAT IS YOUR NAME?' Clint's fist made contact with his face with a crunch that made Jesse cringe. He stifled back a sob. 'S-Shitsack.' Clint grinned happily at this. 'Good, Shitsack.' He turned to Jesse who was watching from a few metres away, arms crossed. He gestured to Shitsack, offering for him to go first, Jesse waved him off and gestured politely for him to go. Clint grimaced and turned back to Shitsack. 'We're going to have to teach you a lesson, Shitsack. You've been naughty.' 'N-naughty, no, please, I haven't done anything, why are y-' 'SHUT THE HELL UP, SHITSACK!' He backhanded him. 'Only speak when you are spoken to.' Reaching backwards, Clint found the ice axe attached to his backpack and dangled it in front of Shitsack. Almost without warning, he took it into his hand and prying open his mouth, punctured his tongue in the centre, causing crimson to transform the pink cavity. Clint laughed heartily as the spraying blood hit him in the face. He walked over to Jesse, blood splattered on his visage. 'Your turn' He said with a sadistic grin. Jesse knelt in front of the man who was babbling and choking, unable to speak through the blood pouring from his mouth. 'What's that? You'd like me to sew that up for you?' He revealed a heavy duty sewing kit used for leather garments. Expertly, the needle was threaded and Jesse moved it closer to his mouth. Shitsack opened his jaws widely, revealing his tongue. Jesse moved the needle to the edge of his mouth and began to pierce his lips with the needle, slowly closing it with the thick thread. Shitsack thrashed violently and Clint came over swiftly, restraining him and consoling him, stroking him on the head and whispering to him, even kissing him on the forehead. He stopped after a few stitches. 'Why'd you stop?' Clint sounded aggravated. 'It doesn't feel right' He lied, it felt great but it was not what he wanted for this piece. 'You take over, I'll return soon.' Jesse stalked off behind some bushes. Clint laughed evilly. 'Just me and you, Shitsack!' 'P-p-please, stop this...' 'Stop!? No no no, Shitsack, we're only just starting!' Clint crouched back down next to Shitsack and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him on the head. 'I love you, Shitsack, we both love you but we have to do this.' 'B-but why?!' 'Shh shh shhh shhh, Shitsack.' Shitsack began to sob as Clint hugged him firmly. Jesse returned from behind the forest, carrying two hefty branches covered with leaves. 'What the hell are you doing with those?' 'We're going to make him into an angel.' Clint's eyes widened. 'You are a genius.' It took some struggling to cut the holes in his back the correct size to fit the branches and they were too heavy to stay up so they fashioned rope to them and tied them to nearby trees. Jesse and Clint stood back to look at the artwork. 'Oh my Jesus Christ. He is beautiful!' Wind fluttered through the twigs on the branches, moving the leaves like feathers. Jesse began to laugh under his breath, slowly building into a cackle as he beheld his masterpiece. Shitsack was sobbing uncontrollably and screaming as the wind rolled in and moved the branches, rubbing stick and bone together. Jesse knew not why he was crying, he had become a piece of art, his best one yet. From here, it would only get better. After his laughter subsided, Jesse revealed a large stainless steel knife from a pouch on his vest. He began to prod and probe Shitsack for prime cuts, deciding a large cut of thigh tissue would suffice. He flipped the knife so it was facing downwards in his fist, ready to pierce and cut. 'Shall we eat?' Jesse smiled at Clint before sliding a piece of hemlock into Shitsack's breast pocket and going to work with the knife, sending screams through the empty forest.
  2. Tommy Cole // Entry #1

    Good shit, love the descriptions and the writing style
  3. The war in my head

    So very good, I'll be sure to stick around and listen to the next one
  4. Pieces of Logan Watts - Volume 1+2

    A Shard of Logan He had been here before. Stood over three people, panting. Blood oozing from the gashes on his face, clotting in his beard. He had to get out. He had to get back to his family. What family? A voice in his head mocked. Have you seen what you've done? Think they'll want you back? Logan gritted his teeth. This place was turning him savage. But without savagery, would you still be here? Logan pondered this for a moment. Maybe he'd have to forget how it was, to protect his family. He looked to the corpses. Empty bullet casings lay next to them along with a hunting knife, still clinging to the intestines of the man he had eviscerated. Kneeling down, Logan retreives the knife from the entrails and slides it into his knife holster. He was determined not to lose himself. Perhaps he already had. He cared not, as long as he kept his family safe. It was time to return home, that's what matters. He had to get back to his family.
  5. Sprigs of Hemlock

    Sprigs of Hemlock The Story of Jesse Clarke Jesse eavesdropped on his mother as she answered the phone in the kitchen. 'Oh no...' He heard her manage. 'I'm on my way, let him know I'm coming.' She hastily put the phone on the receiver and rushed into the hallway, grabbing her coat and giving Jesse a quick look. 'Something's happened with Daddy, he's a little bit ill but he should be fine and back home soon.' She offered as good a smile as possible before turning to the door and leaving. Jesse was seven years old and his brother was five. His mother didn’t return home for a week, leaving Jesse to take care of himself and his sibling. It seemed his mother didn’t really care for them, she never really had but she left them for weeks at a time to stay with their father in hospital who had fallen ill with a serious sickness but Jesse never found out exactly what was wrong with him. As the food ran out and they were more and more neglected, they began to starve. Food began to rot before they could eat it and they didn’t have keys to the house so they could not go out to get more food. One day, Jesse was sat on the floor in the hallway against the wall and he hears thudding. He jumps up and reaches the bottom of the stairs. He struggled to understand what he was seeing at first. His brother lay there, limbs twisted and red liquid pooling from his head. His chest was not rising and falling. Jesse panicked and fell against the wall, sliding down it and crying with eyes fixed on the corpse. Some hours later in the day, his mother returned and upon opening the door, stared at the corpse. ‘What have you done, Jesse…?’ She questioned quietly. ‘Nothing, he fe-’ He tried to say. ‘This is YOUR fault!’ She furiously stepped towards him. Jesse flinched backwards, holding his arms up. His mother moved his hands out of the way and backhanding him across the cheek. He fell to the floor, tears falling onto the vinyl floor. She continued to beat him mercilessly until stopping suddenly. Jesse could hear his mother answer a phone from his ringing ears. His mother moved towards the door and he tried to follow but she forcefully pushed him, sending Jesse to the floor. He smashed his head against the ground, knocking him unconscious. When he woke, it was dark. He rose from the floor and moved towards the light switch, swaying left and right from the dizziness. Light erupted from the bulb on the ceiling and Jesse’s eyes travelled down towards his brother’s body. He fell to his knees and stared. Jesse felt as if he had been there for an eternity, his stomach was so painful, he had chewed his fingernails away, they were bleeding. He shuffled over to his brother and picked up his brother’s hand, examining his nails. Jesse chokes back a sob and began to reluctantly nibble on his brother’s finger nails. The more he nibbled, the more he got a taste for it and after he had run out of nail, there was other parts he could use for sustenance… 1 week later ‘Yes, officer. Quite the putrid smell coming from the house.’ A muffled voice concerningly spoke from outside the door. Unintelligible speech was followed by a loud knocking on the door. Jesse looked up at it but did not move, simply sat cross-legged against the wall. The police broke the door down and barged in, stopping at the sight of the malnourished boy sat alongside his brother’s decomposing body, sprigs of hemlock growing from the cadaver. They wrapped their arms around him and led him outside, wrapping him in a blanket and sitting him inside the car. They’d never knew he’d used his brother to survive, he had decomposed enough to remove any indication of bites. They’d see him as a survivor of neglecting parents. A victim. They sent him to live in a care home in Winchester, it was surprising regal and not a far cry from the expansive and luxurious house he lived in previously. Though he was quiet at first, Jesse ended up befriending almost all of the children and became a favourite for the carers, a poor, vulnerable child that needed to be loved. He enjoyed that façade, they were blind to his manipulation, his ability to get what he wanted, that being at that age, extra food or for errands. Slaves, thralls, all blind to his control. He managed to keep it under the radar as he passed through the care system and focused on his school work. He made it into university, focusing on biology and chemistry, eventually leaving with degrees in them. After leaving university, he found it hard to find a meaningful and fulfilling lifelong ambition, he had ideas and he would write them down in a notebook and plan them out in detail, seeing if it’s what he would enjoy but he always ended up crossing them off the list. He got sick of this and spontaneously went for a walk, ending up in a small shop. He walked with purpose towards the stand holding holiday pamphlets, looking it up and down. Placing his hand on it, he span the holder, closed his eyes and stopped it after a couple of seconds. After opening his eyes, he saw his hand on a pamphlet for a country called ‘Chernarus’. He smiled and put the pamphlet into his coat pocket. Jesse arrived at Chernarus and purchased a small apartment in a town called Stary Sobor along with a log cabin deep in the northern woods. Requiring money, he was picked up by a morgue for his biological knowledge. Shortly after his arrival, news spread of people going missing after travelling on hikes to the woods, Jesse continued working in the morgue happily. Finishing up at work, he stepped outside and saw a newspaper stand with obvious, bold writing: “Police chase the ‘Hemlock Butcher’!”. Jesse smiles. He was getting the attention he deserved. A month later Jesse sat in a coffee shop and read the newspaper. “... have found the site of what they believe to be the ‘Hemlock Butcher’. A large mushroom circle formed around a hand grasping hemlock. … Police are continuing their search north, confident they will find him there.” Jesse finished his cup of tea and left money on the counter as he left. ‘Come again soon!’ The man behind it said in a friendly tone. Hmph, Jesse thought. Not likely. He needed to cover any tracks he had made (though it was unlikely he had left any) and make sure the police don’t find his cabin by creating a similar scene to the south to lure them away. The next day The radio blared terrible Chernarussian pop and Jesse frowned as he left his bedroom and looked towards it. He moved to turn it off when the music was suddenly interrupted by a strange noise. A woman began to speak over the radio, telling people stay home and avoid any people who seem to be diseased in anyway. Jesse looked perplexed at the radio. He didn’t know what she meant but checked the other stations to check it wasn’t a joke from that radio station. They were all broadcasting the same signal. Best do what she says. Jesse thought as he switched the radio off and retrieved some meat from his refrigerator, laying it on the table and flicking through a recipe book, landing on ‘Crisp Lemon Calf Liver’. He smiled as he picked up a large knife and got to work. A year later Jesse had been a recluse for a long time, taking people who would come through the forest and knocking on his door but his and the forest’s reputation caught up to him and people began to frequent his area less as stories of the forest tarnished it. He thought hard and long as his hunger got more and more intense. It was time to leave. The infection had created a whole new world for Jesse, a whole new canvas for him to work on. Like a dish, he would keep trying until he created his masterpiece. He stepped out of his cabin door, breathed in deeply and smiled. He was going to take his work to people who could appreciate it. Picking a stem of hemlock from his small garden and slotting it in his pocket, he started walking southwards.
  6. It was a pleasure! Hope it was put to good use
  7. Pieces of Logan Watts - Volume 1+2

    Volume Two He chuckles as he pops open the top of the cigarette box. My last cigarette for my literal last cigarette. He jokes to himself, placing it between his bearded lips. Lighting it with a match, Logan tosses it off the apartment block, eyes following it down to the ground. He inhales from his cigarette deeply and closes his eyes. The smoke escapes his mouth and sails into the dimming sky. The cigarette followed the path of the match and Logan steps forward towards the edge. Taking a deep breath and looking downwards, he chooses his ‘drop zone’. ‘Logan, we need you.’ A familiar voice says from behind, Logan grits his teeth. ‘You guys are all I have…’ ‘I just...’ Logan manages, his voice trembling as a tear falls down his cheek. ‘Agh, hell.’ He hastily wipes his face. ‘Logan… I need you.’ Logan turns swiftly around to see nothing. The whistle and bite of the winter wind meet him and sting his streaming eyes. He recoils from the edge, hyperventilating. After letting out a roar of despair, he sinks to the floor, sobbing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The cheers of the soldiers filled the camp. Logan appeared from a nearby tent, smiling. ‘Here he is!’ One of the men heartily shouted. The soldiers cheer in unison. ‘Drink up, boys!’ Logan ordered with a grin on his face. ‘Enjoy, lads, just make sure you wake up in the morning!’ He joked. They all laughed and Baites quietly approached Logan. ‘Congratulations on the promotion, sir.’ He extends a hand. Logan takes the hand and shakes it. ‘I told you to call me Logan.’ ‘Sorry…’ Baites offered a nervous smile. ‘’Ey, Sergeant! How about a speech?’ A soldier grabbed Logan’s shoulder and turned him around. Logan tried to gracefully decline but he insists. ‘Come on boys!’ ‘Speech, speech, speech, speech…’ ‘Fine, alright!’ The group all rested their eyes on Logan’s anxiously shifting figure. He chuckles in embarrassment before clearing his throat. ‘Well, uhm, I’ve never been so good at speeches but I just wanted to say that you men are like my family… y’know, James’d be my son who can’t stay out of trouble and Harry here would be the daughter who couldn’t go out unless she did her hair…’ He pauses, laughing with them. ‘A-and my wife’d be Tom.’ He says only half jokingly, making eye contact with Baites briefly. ‘Anyway, I’m just trying to say, I love you guys.’ Logan finishes. The men begin to mock him with ‘Awwww’s. ‘Knock it off and enjoy the drinks!’ Logan cheers. The soldiers cheer and take swigs from their drinks. Logan yawns and begins to retreat back to his quarters. ‘Logan?’ He turns to see Baites jogging up to him. ‘What’s up, Baites?’ ‘I’m not much of a party guy, would you mind if I just talked to you for a bit?’ ‘It’d be my pleasure, let’s go to my quarters.’ Logan goes to turn. ‘Uh, Logan?’ ‘Mm?’ ‘Call me Tom.’ He said with a smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Logan grabbed the shopping cart and entered the supermarket, heart racing. People were taking whole shelves of items into their carts and whatever they were using for storage. He rushed to the canned food section immediately, most of it was gone but it was enough for his family. After taking what was left, he turned the corner towards the pharmacy. Two men were attempting to bust down the locked door. Logan shoved his way in front and kicked it open. Grabbing a small paper bag, he filled it with as much medicine as possible. He returned to the cart and wheeled it out quickly to his only friend in Iceland, John. ‘I found backpacks, Logan.’ ‘Good, good. Here, you take half, I’ll take half, let’s get these back.’ The two filled the packs and swiftly moved through the panicked streets, pressing forward to get home. John shouted in pain as he was struck in the shoulder with a baseball bat. Three masked men emerged from an alleyway. ‘You sons of bitches!’ Logan growled, charging at the nearest one who pulled a knife from his jacket. Logan launched a strike towards his face and made contact with a satisfying crunch. Following up with a fist to the throat, Logan sent the man reeling backwards, choking and clutching his neck. Logan grunted as a baseball bat made contact along his upper back. He fell with a thud on his front. The man who struck him was extremely muscular and seemed to be the one in charge. He ordered the other man who had restrained John in Icelandic. He rushed over and tried to remove the backpack from Logan’s back. Logan leapt upwards, elbowing the baseball bat man in the crotch, causing him to drop the bat. The other man wearing a hoodie and bandana attempted a punch at Logan but he riposted with a kick in his torso. As soon as the man regained his stability, Logan smashed the bat into his face, creating a grim crunch and sending the man’s bandana flying off his face, revealing his broken and slack jaw. The red cloth had come over Logan’s eyes as he stood with John, facing the other two men, all ignoring the approaching police sirens. John made the first move, launching a swing at his opposite combatant. Logan followed up straight after on his opponent, who dodged backwards away from his bat. He gazed at John, seeing him struggle underneath the man against a car. Launching a fierce hit towards the robber, the bat splintered and bent as Logan felt the man’s skull crack open. Logan’s enemy grabbed his arms from behind and threw him to the floor then slammed John twice in the face. Logan roared as he jumped on the man’s back, biting into his neck and tearing a chunk, clutched in his teeth, from the man’s nape. Blood sprayed on Logan’s face as he fell onto his backside. The man was screeching in pain but managed to focus on Logan and leapt towards him. The sirens were getting closer, merely a block or two away. The man pinned Logan and began to strangle him. He fought back, pushing the man’s arms off his neck and knocking him in the face. ‘John!’ Logan exclaimed, pushing against the man’s arms, hands clutching for his throat. ‘Take the stuff back, I’ll catch up!’ John promptly took the bags and sprinted down the street. Logan just hoped he would be faithful to him and his family. Using his momentum to flip the man on his back, Logan kept the man’s arms down with his knees as he pounded his face repeatedly, blood making his visage indiscernible. The sirens were coming towards them down the road. Logan stood up from the bloodied man and retrieved the half broken baseball bat. He pulled the man up to his knees, stood behind him and jammed the bat underneath the man’s chin. Closing his eyes, he snapped the man’s neck and let his corpse fall to the floor. The sirens hurt his ears as the sound of screeching tires brought him back to reality and lifting the red cloth from his eyes. Eyes widening as he beheld what he had done, he glanced towards the vehicles that had stopped, their lights showing only the silhouettes of men as they stepped out and took aim at him, shouting something in Icelandic. Logan didn’t know what they said but he understood. Dropping the bat, he placed his hands on his head and got on his knees. A single tear fell down his face as they shackled him with the handcuffs.
  8. Pieces of Logan Watts - Volume 1+2

    Thanks, Cipher. Definitely more to come!
  9. Contents Volume One Volume Two A Shard of Logan: Savagery Volume One Waking from the cry of the morning rooster, Logan groans as he sits up. He glances over to the morning light and rubs his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to sleep rough in this apartment block but he wasn’t travelling through the town during the night. After collecting his gear, he prepared to move out when he heard a transmission from the Black Fox secure radio channel. ‘This is Jeremiah to all Black Fox, report to Camp Sierra immediately. I repeat, all Black Fox units, report to Camp Sierra immediately.’ He sighs audibly. ‘We have a problem.’ Logan took a deep breath in before exiting the building. Luckily, the infected were more preoccupied with chasing wildlife and groaning than spotting Logan as he darted from cover to cover. He had a long journey and he’d rather do it in relative peace along the dirt roads. He found his way into a town called Kabanino, wanting to pass straight through, he made haste but bumped into an eccentric looking man wearing only red clothing. ‘I like red!’ The man excitedly exclaimed. ‘I can see that…’ Logan scanned the man's entirely red clothed body. ‘Do you like red?’ The man asked. Fearing what this lunatic might do if he said no, he replied: ‘Yes, I love red!’ The man replied by jumping excitedly before suddenly becoming very serious. ‘If you like red so much…’ His eyes scanned Logan up and down. ‘Why aren’t you wearing any red?’ He questioned. Logan smiled and pulled up his trouser leg, revealing his sock. ‘Red socks!’ The man grinned back. ‘That’s not enough though, one second!’ He began rooting around in his backpack, which seemed to be filled with various red items. ‘Aha!’ He revealed a red bobble hat, thrusting it towards Logan. Timidly taking the hat, Logan kept his eyes fixed on the man’s unsettling face. ‘Now quick, put it on!’ The red man urged. Logan took his cap off and replaced it with the red hat. ‘Yeah! You’re my buddy now, always wear it, so me and my friends know you’re my buddy!’ ‘Friends?’ Logan asked nervously. ‘Yeah, come out, guys!’ From the house behind him, 5 men armed with automatic rifles wearing clown masks appear, they nod in unison at him. Logan shudders. ‘Aww, don’t mind them, they’re just trying to be a bunch of clowns!’ The red man bursts into laughter. ‘On you go, buddy. Don’t let me keep ya!’ The man continues laughing hysterically as Logan moves onward, conscious of the clown’s eyes following him as he goes. Whew, that was close Logan thinks to himself. Bloody lunatics. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Logan climbs into bed and grabs a book from the bedside table. His wife glances over at him as he opens the book. ‘Did you have a good time seeing the guys again?’ His wife asks, smiling. He grunts back. Her eyes dig into his face with a sad expression. ‘Ever since you came back on leave, I hate to say it but you’ve been very distant.’ She waits for any kind of response. ‘Logan!’ ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me.’ ‘But I do worry.’ She leans against the headboard and lets out a frustrated sigh. ‘The army’s not good for you…’ ‘We’ve had this conversation befo-’ ‘Logan, listen to me. Think of the little one.’ She lays a hand on her abdomen. He tries to formulate a response but he stops and sighs before rolling over and turning off his lamp. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ‘Hey! Watts, come over here!’ Logan glances over to see the Major beckoning him. Logan walks over and follows him into the tent. It’s filled with tables stacked with radios and monitoring equipment, radars. Small bursts of radio chatter spew out one of the radios. ‘Corporal’s got news of an attack.’ The corporal stands and takes over. ‘Yeah, an ambush, confirmed IED explosion and multiple taliban infantry.’ The Major turns to Logan. ‘Watts, take your squad along with Bravo to assist in the village, bail our guys out.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Logan says before leaving the tent and heading towards the barracks. The vehicles’s engine roared as it tore its way towards the town. ‘So, what’s the deal, boss?’ The new guy who replaced him after his promotion asked. ‘It’s Sergeant, private. Everyone listen up!’ He banged on the metal shell of the car. ‘Simple search and destroy op. Some of our guys came under fire, IED got a vehicle, we’re bailing them out. Any questions?’ He smiles. ‘Good.’ ‘Jones, take blue team and set up in a position covering red, we’re gonna go across the street, cover to cover. Contact is about a block from here’ The men hurriedly made it to their positions and signalled they were ready. ‘Let’s move it, red!’ Logan called, staying low and leading the way. Making it safely, he signalled blue across as red took positions covering them. They began to move and a bullet cracked past, followed by a distant report. ‘Sniper, find cover!’ Logan cried as a bullet blew dust off the wall and into his face. ‘Anyone got a bead on the fucker?’ A member of blue team screamed. ‘Yeah, three storey, end of the road, hundred and fifty metres, reference the fountain!’ A squad veteran, Baites, much admired by Logan called. Another shot came past and Logan ducked in response. ‘Lay down some suppressing fire!’ Logan ordered. A volley of shots followed his cry and he looked round towards Baites. His eyes filled with dread to see him stumbling backwards, gasping through a red river flowing from his neck. ‘No, no no!’ Logan rushed over and pressed his gloved hands to the wound. ‘Fuck, fuck. Medic!’ He cried. He couldn’t lose Baites, he was like a brother, no, more than that. ‘You fucking stay with me, solder!’ Logan yelled through tears. Baites moved a shaking hand from his neck and put it on Logan’s head, pulling it to his chest, embracing him. His chest stopped moving shortly after. Logan slowly sat up, grasping Baites’ hand and held back his tears as best he could after gazing upon his dead face. He leaned over, kissing him gently on the forehead. ‘I love you, Tom.’ He whispered near his ear before picking up his rifle and regrouping the squad.
  10. Logan sits in a tent in a secluded spot near the coast, lost in thought. His eyes focus on the radio throughout the transmission then return to the picture of his wife and son. He takes a final puff from his cigarette before putting it out on his shoe. His eyes begin to tear up as his mind gets dragged into the photograph, he scowls and wipes his eyes. Unzipping the tent, he takes the radio and photo in hand and takes a few steps towards the shore. Slowly bringing the radio up to his face, he pushes the PTT. "Jeremiah. I've not known you long yet I can see you're one of the greatest men I've ever met. There's no doubt that morale is going to be low now that this has happened but since we're most likely not going back... [align=left]He pauses for a moment, pondering the thought of never seeing his family again. He firmly presses the PTT. Well... they don't want us there so... I agree with you. Let's make our own home. I'm putting my faith in you to keep us afloat... [align=left]He pulls a plastic bottle from the pouch on his backpack. With one last look at the photograph, he folds it up, wincing with the fold and pushes it through the hole in the top and replaces the lid as tightly as he can. I'm with you one hundred percent, Jeremiah. If your next order is go to hell and back, I'll follow you in. [align=left]Logan squats down and touches the water with his fingers. He looks through the battered plastic at the photo and gives the bottle a small kiss. He lays the water bottle down on the water surface and gives it a small push, watching it float away. Standing back up, he wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath before pushing the PTT. Let's make something our people back home would be proud of." [align=left]He gazes at the bottle until it is out of sight. He dazedly regains his footing before slinging his weapon over his shoulder and zipping the tent back up. Logan sighs and looks at the floor for a few moments before setting off towards Camp Indigo.
  11. Server and location: Server 1, orchard of apple trees south of Kabanino Approximate time and date of the incident (SERVER TIME): 04:10, 28-10-2016 Your in game name: Logan Watts Names of allies involved: Christoph King Name of suspect/s: Unknown Friendly/Enemy vehicles involved (if any): N/A Additional evidence? (video/screenshot): N/A Detailed description of the events: Gathered with around 7-8 people in Kabanino near the church, man in a clown mask is running around manically with a gas lamp, the group moves off and me and Christoph decide to stay close, we leave the town, moving into the orchard southward. The man in the clown mask follows us eventually, runs past my friend and shoots me dead, Christoph hides behind a shed but is then shot by him shortly afterwards, potentially other people shot.
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