They All Tell A Different Story

user:******

password:********

Incorrect password. Please try again.

user:******

password: **********

Incorrect password. Please try again.

user:*******

password:*******

Profanity not allowed!

User:******

Password:*******

Welcome back, Colonel Sumner. Would you like to pick up back where you left off?

yes

The last document you viewed were the transcripts of The Siege of Moonshine Ridge. Would you like to start from the beginning again?

yes

Loading document…. Loading complete! Have a nice day.

The following document is a transcript of the helmet cams worn by the 87th Division. The 87th Division was a division of the Atlesian army where various troublemakers, semi unfit for duty(see Operation Fairness for more details about why these men where kept) and recruits where sent to a bunker close to the border with the Grimm wildlands. They were amongst the front lines when the Grimm invaded Vale after the events at the Vytal Festival transpired, and heavy casualties were reported. The original tapes recovered are now unfortunately too worn down to be viewed, hence the transcripts. The events start roughly half an hour before the Grimm breached the perimeter gates. Swearing has been censored in a drive to make these archives less distressing.

[[Helmet cam of Pvt. Flansburgh]]

[[The Private is on a lift descending downwards, trying to turn on his helmet cam]]

Flansburgh: -is thing on?

[[He takes his helmet off to inspect it.]]

Flansburgh: Red light's blinking, that's always a good sign.

[[He puts it back on.]]

Flansburgh: Yeah, no s*it Flansburgh, the red light's on.

[[The lift comes to a complete stop, making a gruesome crunching noise as it does. The doors flicker to life and a man is standing just by the door, looking like he was waiting for the Private.]]

?: You Private Flansburgh?

[[The man is Lt. A. Stills, aged 42, once a highly decorated marksman, credited with over 112 Grimm kills, before an accident in his company's canteen destroyed his left retina and he was forced to choose a desk job or be put in 87th Division.]]

Flansburgh: Lieutenant Stills, sir?

Stills: Please, call me Andy.

Flansburgh: …Okay then Andy. What do you want me to do then Andy?

Stills: Well, first, I'd better introduce you to our motley crew.

Flansburgh: Of course, sir. Good suggestion.

[[Stills chuckles.]]

Flansburgh: …Sir?

Stills: Nah, it's just this unwritten rule we have down here, no a*skissing. Gets you nowhere down here. Forget what they drilled into your head in Boot Camp, and just chill, y'know? C'mon, down here.

[[Stills leads Flansburgh down the main corridor of the bunker. The corridor is dimly lit and full of dust. Flansburgh bursts into big coughing fits at various points.]]

Stills: To your left is the restrooms, avoid the one with the busted lightbulb-

Flansburgh: Why?

Stills: Reasons. You don't need to know. To your right is the dorms, we'll try and get a cot out for you while we order a bed from the glorious, luscious High Command. And here…

[[He opens a big grey door to the bunker's recreational room. From left, Lance Corporal M. McGuinn, 27, reclining on the green armchair Corp. S. Watt, 31 standing near a shelving unit, and just in view, Pvt. J. Taggart, 45, lying on the couch.]

Stills: The rec room.

Taggart: F*ck, fresh meat.

McGuinn: Sure is Taggart. Now c'mon, it's been less than 90 days, fork it over.

Taggart: Has it really? I doubt it, highly.

McGuinn: F*ck man, don't start with your 'time defence' bulls*it.

Taggart: All I'm saying, is that we really have no credible way of proving how many days it's been, that's all.

Watt: We do, it's called a clock.

Taggart: Shaddup, Watt!

McGuinn: C'mon, Chief, help me out here, you know what he's like!

[[Stills rests his forehead in his hands.]]

Stills: I'm your CO, not your mother. You're big boys, do it yourself. Anyway, this is the new meat you sick basta*ds have been placing bets on, John Flansburgh.

McGuinn: Welcome to the shithole, Flansy! Where dreams come down to die!

[[Stills shoots him a death stare that silences him.]]

Stills: The loudmouth slouching on the armchair is our heavy weapons guy, Mike McGuinn.

[[He gets up from his activities to greet Flansburgh. He easily towers over him, at least a foot. It's said that Private Flansburgh was 6'2. He sticks out a hand.]]

McGuinn: How ya doin' Flans?

Flansburgh: Uh, yeah, pretty good, thanks.

McGuinn: Just do yaself a favour and ignore ol' Taggart over there. He's just your regular friendly cynical ars*hole.

[[Taggart raises McGuinn his middle finger, which has been blurred out on the film.]]

Taggart: F*ck you, Beefcake!

[[After a second of careful consideration…]]

Flansburgh: I think I'm gonna take your advice there.

McGuinn: Wise choice lad.

Stills: The uh, cynical asshole as the good corporal put it, is Jack Taggart, our demo guy.

Taggart: Yeah, don't forget it cupcake, I got enough explosives here to level you ten times over!

Stills: Y'know, it's because of that attitude that keeps the key to the locker outta your hands and you down the ranks.

Taggart: No, it's prolly 'cause I'm in the 87th Division, the home of screw ups and the green dudes. And besides-

[[The distinct sound of an incoming transmission is heard from the dorm room, which, due to space limitations in the bunker, was housed in the dorm room.]]

?: Yo, Stills, live transmission from HQ!

[[The voice is believed to have belonged to Staff Sargent N. Connelly, who acted as the communication man for Lt. Stills' squad. However, the audio is heavily distorted as a result of the incoming transmission.]]

Stills: (K)eep o(n) hold f(or) as long as p(ossible)!

Connelly: Gotcha chi(ef!)

[[Stills walks back to the dorms. A couple of seconds pass before Watt moves over to where Flansburgh is standing aimlessly.]]

Watt: Hey, Fl(ansburgh) you mig(h)t wanna knock t(hat) off-

[[Watt reaches for Flansburgh's cam helmet.]]

Flansburgh: Woah, wh-

[[Recording ended, 9:38 PM]]