I do not own the characters or concept just the twisted idea.
I would like dedicate this to Spacekitty, may this sow seeds to heal the wounds of lost loved ones.
Excerpt from an Enemy's Journal
There was nothing left of the base, save for a crater where it once stood. Charred relics of what once was littered sandy dunes, but enormous chucks of shrapnel had cut through most. Eyes blank with death followed my men's movement, as I instructed them to cover the departed.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing." Maelstrom breathed as he kicked at some orphaned charm bracelet.
I felt like joining him in kicking around some of the abandoned and burnt possessions.
The twins Heckyl and Jeckyl along with Barron X had just finished their perimeters. They were returning to our current position.
Thunderhawk, his large Viking form stood motionless with a crisp white sheet snapping between his hands and in the cold fingers of wind.
His form shifted, casting a shroud of shadow over the top of someone before he covered them with the sheet.
Later:
"Girls, women, the entire base. It is.." He starts but quickly changed it to reflect past tense. "It was made up of women." It was Thunderhawk, speaking, he spoke to no one in particular.
I thumbed idly through a scorched diary. Probably once belonged to one of the dead. Most of the pages were charred beyond reading, some crumbling at my breathing alone.
"Heat stamp." I had to muse as I flipped on through the pages. It hadn't mattered what the actual fire had not damaged, the heat had. Pages were black with blankness now.
Until midway of the book, I discovered a single surviving page though not wholly intact.
Words were bite off with blemishes of heated ink.
Excerpt from journal:
Dear Diary,
We will be working on the latest mecha today. A top secret job, so hush hush, as we have not been permitted to return home to our husbands and families. Kim must be going insane without me. Oh how I want to take him in my arms and tell him, who I am and what I do. But, alas my son must never know I am an employee of Galactor.
See, I bet you didn't know he uses women and young girls to construct and build his mecha. Why, you ask? Why not? Women are easier to control. We are not as strong, not physically nor do I suppose mentally. Just threaten our family and we will do anything you ask.
Women have smaller hands, making it easier to be more particular in performing a job. Things are done precise, and right. Hence the reason we are motherly. I suppose.
What were we building you ask? Sorry I must laugh. People just don't get it. When you say mecha, and they visualize the interior, they see flashing lights, buttons, and knobs. But I..
She paused; her sentence was interrupted perhaps by work itself.
I see wires multicolored wires, different gauges SXL GXL TXL.
What's that? Explain GXL, SXL and TXL. I chuckle as I reflect back to my first time asking that exact same question. It doesn't reflect the gauges so much as it does suggest insulations of the jacket. TXL is a light, not as bulky or cumbersome to handle. GXL is a better quality wire proving additional resistance against physical wear and tear and SXL is a heavier gauge wire. The very best for what we are doing but
The sentence or thought ended there as inky smut seemed to drift into the paragraph erasing from history the statement being made.
"I don't suppose we will ever know what our writer was going to tell us there." Anderson looked to his long time friend Colonel Cronus.
He stood his back to Anderson, his shadow casting a small shroud of darkness on the floor, depicting his life as he lived it.
The End