Author's Note: Good! You made it! If you didn't, go back and read GDI, NOD,
ETC, first! I'm going to be writing it in a split format to make the story
more interesting; each chapter will chronicle both Eric's stay at the Black
Hand POW camp, and how life goes on without him in the rest of the world
Somewhere in rural southern Texas…
After Duck dodging countless GDI recon teams, the slavers finally came home; this was the slavers last run, end Eric was the only prisoner they took… this time. It was 7:30 A.M. when they landed; Eric was wearing navy blue Carharts, black leather gloves, the fingers cut out, and a white T- Shirt.
His hair retained it's natural windswept shape; though it was greasy, and becoming matted after not being washed for 2 weeks; and, needless to say, smelled strongly of bodily odors.
A couple of NOD soldiers walked behind him, loosely holding their guns; Eric could've gone Bruce Lee on them, but just then an obelisk came into sight. They came to a vast field of jet-black rock; a slender layer of dust covered the entire field; a coalfield, no doubt. Eric could see the sun rising in the distance.
The camp foreman looked over the files of their last prisoner; it looked like this
Name: Simmons, Eric
Age: 23
DOB: 12/12/07
Hair: Dark Sandy Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Blood: AB+
Height: '6 "1
Weight: 168
Injuries: N/A
Tattoos: N/A
Scars: Long; across face
Force Taken from: Omega (Formerly Beta)
Place of Capture: Inner City Huston (Out of battle)
Relocation facility: XIX
Kill count: 12
Other Notes:
Scrawled at the bottom were notes:
Knows no fear, appears to be proficient in several types of martial arts
"Wait," said the foreman to Eric "Come here"
"Whatdya want?" he asked
"Would you consider yourself a business man?" the foreman started "One who is adept in his bargaining skills?"
"I guess," said Eric, passively "Why?"
"I'm about to make you an offer you can't refuse" he began "What if I were to offer you the 'short shift' only work on Saturdays and Sundays, 10-12, better conditions, better hours, usually better whether, only twice a week; and greatly improved ration sizes for both you and your cellmate; we usually offer this package to people who provide us with valuable information…"
"My mouth is shut," intervened Eric "and I intend to keep it that way"
"Shut up, and let me finish my sentence," said the foreman, quite curtly. "Says here you're a kung-fu fighter" he started doing some mock martial arts moves and making bizarre hi-ya noises, as if dancing to some weird 70s music.
"Yeah?" asked Eric, waiting for his ultimate point
"Teach me some of that… karate… or whatever it is that you do," he said slowly
"I don't think someone like you could learn my trade," said Eric, trying not to be a braggadocio
"Is that a no, meat?" replied the foreman; he was determined to get what he wanted, but tried to make it look like his patience was wearing thin
"Ay, uh, well, that is to say," stuttered Eric "it's just that there are so many types of martial arts, do you want to be able to fly through the air, knock someone's block off, or do a handstand to chopper kick, or a WHAM, CRASH, BOOM!"
"That last one sounds quite tantalizing," he said on the sly
"Then Freestyle Kenpo is the way for you, my friend!" he almost shouted in a sales pitch type tone
"Then it's a deal… Meat" he replied
Laura had purchased (not rented) in cash (not credit) a good sized apartment, and was now living generously off a little nest egg she had stashed away; still looking for a job however.
It was 23:00 hours (or about 11:00 P.M, as they say) Laura had grown tired of watching YET ANOTHER movie miniseries called "get your dog's face out of my ass" … But with a show with that name, I'd be willing to bet you'd get tired of it in a hurry too!
Laura turned in; she slowly disrobed, and slid into bed; she stayed awake for several hours; something was clawing at the back of her mind (Probably an escaped weasel). It was Eric; finally knowing what it was that kept her awake put her asleep instantly into a deep sleep; err, REM sleep, I think… the kind where you dream.
Laura saw Eric marching along a great rocky catwalk, amongst several prison guards, over a pit of lava and fire… this place HAD to be hell. A man was being beaten brutally by one of the men in heavy red and black armor; he had out a club, and was clocking him in the head; Eric ran to save him; but he only got further away; all at once, the rocky ledge collapsed, and Eric was swallowed by the flames.
Laura awoke with a start… in a cold sweat.
1 "He who fights with demons, beware, lest he thereby become a demon"
-Fredrich Nietzschè
Somewhere in rural southern Texas…
After Duck dodging countless GDI recon teams, the slavers finally came home; this was the slavers last run, end Eric was the only prisoner they took… this time. It was 7:30 A.M. when they landed; Eric was wearing navy blue Carharts, black leather gloves, the fingers cut out, and a white T- Shirt.
His hair retained it's natural windswept shape; though it was greasy, and becoming matted after not being washed for 2 weeks; and, needless to say, smelled strongly of bodily odors.
A couple of NOD soldiers walked behind him, loosely holding their guns; Eric could've gone Bruce Lee on them, but just then an obelisk came into sight. They came to a vast field of jet-black rock; a slender layer of dust covered the entire field; a coalfield, no doubt. Eric could see the sun rising in the distance.
The camp foreman looked over the files of their last prisoner; it looked like this
Name: Simmons, Eric
Age: 23
DOB: 12/12/07
Hair: Dark Sandy Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Blood: AB+
Height: '6 "1
Weight: 168
Injuries: N/A
Tattoos: N/A
Scars: Long; across face
Force Taken from: Omega (Formerly Beta)
Place of Capture: Inner City Huston (Out of battle)
Relocation facility: XIX
Kill count: 12
Other Notes:
Scrawled at the bottom were notes:
Knows no fear, appears to be proficient in several types of martial arts
"Wait," said the foreman to Eric "Come here"
"Whatdya want?" he asked
"Would you consider yourself a business man?" the foreman started "One who is adept in his bargaining skills?"
"I guess," said Eric, passively "Why?"
"I'm about to make you an offer you can't refuse" he began "What if I were to offer you the 'short shift' only work on Saturdays and Sundays, 10-12, better conditions, better hours, usually better whether, only twice a week; and greatly improved ration sizes for both you and your cellmate; we usually offer this package to people who provide us with valuable information…"
"My mouth is shut," intervened Eric "and I intend to keep it that way"
"Shut up, and let me finish my sentence," said the foreman, quite curtly. "Says here you're a kung-fu fighter" he started doing some mock martial arts moves and making bizarre hi-ya noises, as if dancing to some weird 70s music.
"Yeah?" asked Eric, waiting for his ultimate point
"Teach me some of that… karate… or whatever it is that you do," he said slowly
"I don't think someone like you could learn my trade," said Eric, trying not to be a braggadocio
"Is that a no, meat?" replied the foreman; he was determined to get what he wanted, but tried to make it look like his patience was wearing thin
"Ay, uh, well, that is to say," stuttered Eric "it's just that there are so many types of martial arts, do you want to be able to fly through the air, knock someone's block off, or do a handstand to chopper kick, or a WHAM, CRASH, BOOM!"
"That last one sounds quite tantalizing," he said on the sly
"Then Freestyle Kenpo is the way for you, my friend!" he almost shouted in a sales pitch type tone
"Then it's a deal… Meat" he replied
Laura had purchased (not rented) in cash (not credit) a good sized apartment, and was now living generously off a little nest egg she had stashed away; still looking for a job however.
It was 23:00 hours (or about 11:00 P.M, as they say) Laura had grown tired of watching YET ANOTHER movie miniseries called "get your dog's face out of my ass" … But with a show with that name, I'd be willing to bet you'd get tired of it in a hurry too!
Laura turned in; she slowly disrobed, and slid into bed; she stayed awake for several hours; something was clawing at the back of her mind (Probably an escaped weasel). It was Eric; finally knowing what it was that kept her awake put her asleep instantly into a deep sleep; err, REM sleep, I think… the kind where you dream.
Laura saw Eric marching along a great rocky catwalk, amongst several prison guards, over a pit of lava and fire… this place HAD to be hell. A man was being beaten brutally by one of the men in heavy red and black armor; he had out a club, and was clocking him in the head; Eric ran to save him; but he only got further away; all at once, the rocky ledge collapsed, and Eric was swallowed by the flames.
Laura awoke with a start… in a cold sweat.
1 "He who fights with demons, beware, lest he thereby become a demon"
-Fredrich Nietzschè