Pre-Story Notes: Yo dudes! I'm new here, so just call me Alfred, or Alf for short. Or Alfie if you're into that, I don't care, what's uuup~! I always had these great ideas for a fan-fiction, and I'm glad I actually sat down enough to get this one into words. This is Rated M for gore, language, sexual themes... You know, the works a guy like me is so awesome I just gotta put it down like this! So, without further ado: A Tale of Scars and Tears!
Vietnam was underground, she remembered this. She was tunneling with her comrades. The dark tunnels lit by the lights they brought with them, in their primitive state, provided just enough light for this operation. The smell of dirt pervaded them, and she had grown to like it: it was her, after all, her land that clung to her clothes, pervaded the air around them, and that she even tasted. As for her comrades-in-arms, she had grown fond of them, and with them, she was sure they'd succeed in this operation. This was an important battle, they were all sure. They were attacking Khe Sanh, or that was what her boss had said. She moved forward enough, and soon they were right up to the barbed wire. Before them was a group of their enemy; U.S. Marines, defending the perimeter of Khe Sanh, about twenty-five, were there unawares of Vietnam's position. She smiled, and raised her rifle, as did her subordinates.
Soon, Lien Chung gave the signal and the ambush commenced. All twenty-five American-servicemen dropped, and many other sapper units tunneling around them opened fire. The ambush was a success and took the Americans by surprise, their bodies jerking and contorting to the force that the NVA's 7,62 rounds caused with blood splatters and open wounds riddling their bodies. None of the Americans saw it coming, and it even made Vietnam wince as she saw her own target's face split into two different halves, one side being only marred by an entry wound, the other half torn apart into an exit wound. As Vietnam looked over her handiwork, she couldn't help but look into the other Americans moving back to counter the newest NVA advance, and she made eye contact with one visage in particular; it was the aggressor himself, Alfred F. Jones, standing there in shock as the men she had just cut down finally stopped moving. Lien found this to be a good opportunity as he was probably the one in charge here for the immediate defense of Khe Sanh so his being in shock should by her time to escape, and as she decided to fall back to address the matters in bringing up more men to harass the troops as well as flee from this newest skirmish, a friendly artillery shell landed on the American positions. She looked back, a bit saddened at all this. She had fought wars, and sometimes things got ugly, but this was the most brutal things have ever gotten for her to be this close and to see young men's expressions twist into pure terror, pain, or to not even exist in the next moment. She felt her left shoulder, where her freshest napalm burn from this engagement still stung. Vietnam soon continued out of her tunnel and climbed out, and turned her head back from where she came to realize many NVA soldiers were being hit hard by the Americans. She felt a tear sting her eye, but she wiped it away. She never asked for this, but the Americans deemed it necessary to side with that corrupt bastard Ngo Diem Diem to go and stop what she wanted!
Then she remembered how close she was to combat, how the cordite still had a bit in the air, and how the sound of gunfire was only tens of meters away, so she tried to fall back like she intentionally started out to. This effort was met by a large explosion, rocking the breath out of Lien and sending her into the air. In a daze, she felt whatever wind was left in her knocked out again when she hit the tree. Her vision was blurry, and she only heard bells ringing. She tried to shake her head, and it cleared up enough to where she struggled to get on her knees. She started to recollect herself, coughing and wheezing as her breath came back to her, but then looked to where the blast originated. Vietnam's eyes widened, and soon found herself retching and threw up bile as what she recognized was another NVA soldier, blown apart from the waist down, reached out to her seemingly from beyond the other world while his innards splayed out from his cavity, with a void expression in his face that only death could give. She soon fell from her knees and blacked out… Out of her dream and upright into her bed.
Ho Chi Minh City, 1:30 a.m.: She found herself in a cold sweat, almost panting, sitting upright in her mat as she tried to collect herself. She normally didn't have nightmares of Khe Sanh or any other times during the American intervention of the Vietnamese conflict, much less the Tet Offensive. She sighed, trying to calm herself before lying back down. Her nightmares weren't normally so intense, so vivid. She cursed herself, running her fingers through her long hair and running across the small bump on her forehead from that explosion her most recent terror reminded her off. She touched it tenderly, wincing slightly. "Stupid America, has to be into everyone's business enough that he even gets into my dreams to scare me…" She muttered, lying back down on her mat and still played with her scar. She scoffed slightly while now feeling more collected, and turned onto her side to see if willing herself to sleep would help ensure she'd wake up in time to get some gaming time in before she had to leave for work in the morning.
Washington D.C., 2:30 p.m.: Alfred was well awake, now busy working with his boss Obama. Together, they worked hard recently since Obama gave his State of the Union address. Lately, they mainly made small talk about how Michelle and the kids were doing, how the dog was getting along, how America's been settling lately; sometimes, the two would talk about current policies that were occurring nowardays. After all, just yesterday, Alfred and the bossman went to see Obama's senior advisers, then met with faith leaders to talk about some new ideas about immigration reform. Lately, Obama noticed his country's demeanor and sighed.
"Hey, Alfred, I know you're still getting used to me, so I'll be quick. I need you to go to the World Meeting for the weekend. Then, I'll need you to check up on things in Afghanistan for Monday to Thrusday… Sound cool?" He asked, looking up at his fellow worker.
"Hey Boss, whatever you need me to do. Since it's Spring Break for some of our students, does that mean I get a day or two off?" Alfred replied half-rhetorically with a small smile creeping on his lips. His boss laughed and nodded.
"Well, I was going to give you a day off anyways, so go ahead, take a break!" Obama looked at his blonde-haired friend, smiling genuinely as Alfred took a second from his paperwork to throw a fist into the air in victory. "But the thing is, I gotta send you to China. See if you can be friendly while I keep trying to get the Republicans to agree to my austerity measures. We need China to keep playing ball with us while I figure out something." He continued, and smirked a little by seeing America's composure switch to one of relief to a twang of annoyance. "Oh, don't be like that. Go see Japan and maybe a few other countries while you're over there! Don't spend too much time working with China. Maybe just hang out, grab a few beers or something, okay?" He finished, and Alfred gave him a defeated look.
"Awww… Alright, it has been a while since I saw my buddy Japan, maybe we can play some video games to blow some steam, right boss?" Alfred gave a hopeful smile. It was weird getting used to Barrack, after all this was a bit of a big thing for the nation, the first Black President made some ripples among the country and made it odd to get along with it. Normally, he felt that having a darker skinned boss was just like any other boss. Other times, and he could tell that his citizens were still uneasy by this, it felt odd by having a minority on top; they just didn't know how to take it sometimes.
"Fine by me, but remember, China's doorstep, next weekend. Don't blow off Friday night and wake up with a hangover, okay? I know a ton of college kids will be going around, but do try to be responsible. This is a big thing I'm sending you out for." Barrack finished.
"Will do, Obamadude!" Alfred said a little over-the-top and went back to getting finished on the paperwork while Obama studied him for a second, then chuckled softly and went back to work as well. A calm, collected president and his almost carefree, obnoxious country seemed to be an unlikely pair of coworkers for managing the work of the government, but it worked out to be alright in the end, when they sat down in the Oval Office with their stacks of paper. Alfred looked out the front lawn of the White House out the window. A temperate day, fifty-nine degrees Fahrenheit, and most people were at work by now. It mattered not, for America was a superpower still, and even beautiful sunny days like that one day were of little consequence to the fair-skinned nation. Still so much work to do… He almost wondered if he'd have time to chillax a little before he went off to bed this evening.
Post-Story Note's: There we go~! Hope you bro's and bro-ette's enjoyed my prologue! I'm setting a deadline for myself for the next Chapter. Yes, I am basing my tales around the day they are released to you all. They are done at least two days beforehand, and i spend the last few hours just editing with a fresh set of eyes. I hope you guys like it, and have fun dudes! Later!
~A. Alfred F. Jones