THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING THEAUSTRALIANBOXEN.
Short chapters are short.
The dark black clouds rolled like powerful beasts over the barren desert landscape. The sand was dark red, stained with blood and the rain of the foreboding storm. Lightning temporarily light the whole desert up, staining everything a bright white for a few brief seconds. Then the thunder took over, shaking the mountains themselves, causing proverbially mudslides. Storms like this were rare. It was 1962, in the eastern side of what is today New Mexico. The effects of global warming had not set it yet, so storms like this monster were spawns of Satan himself.
At the bottom of one of those grand, mountain-like statues, lay two forlorn looking buildings. One was red. An old looking barn with a large Rocket Export Division logo sprayed to the side. The other was about one mile away from the barn. It was larger, more industrialized. The cold blue metal building had another logo on it. It belonged to Blueprints & Legalities Unlimited . Now, to any passerby, it would look like these buildings were abandoned, but that was far from the truth. In these two, solitary buildings waged one of the most inhumane wars unknown to the human race.
The two bases were known as "Teufort". It was one of the fifty so locations the war was fought. Now, I owe you an explanation about this war. It was a private war, fought between two companies. Rocket Export Division, RED, and Blueprints & Legalities Unlimited, BLU. Together, these companies literally own the world. These monster-sized beasts own every government, in every country. It may not seem like it, but it's the truth. These companies used to be one. It used to be called Mann Co Supply Company in the 30's. The illustrious Kelly Mann owned the super sized company. However, tragedy struck the Mann family in 1956. Kelly Mann died. No one knows how, but it's suspected it had to do with Kelly's two sons. Drew and Christian Mann were brothers. And vicious competitors. They both wanted to own the company. However, it turned out neither of them did. Kelly gave half his company to each son. Driven by rage and hatred for each other, they grew apart, creating their own companies. Drew created BLU, and Christian took RED. One would set up a factory, and the other would build one right beside it. This lead to problems, so one would hire mercenaries to protect the factory. And the other would hire mercenaries to attack the other.
That led to war. The brave (and slightly insane) mercenaries of both sides were brain washed with propaganda. The other side was monsters. They would kill you in your sleep, then torture your family and make them eat your remains. Most people signed a three-year contract. They needed the money, or needed to release steam. But both companies were smart enough to know that if the public found out about their little dispute, they would have a few lawsuits on their hands. So when they signed that cursed contract, they fought until they died.
Rain pounded down upon the steel compound, sounding like deep percussion at some sort of heavy metal band. The sturdy building shook at the very base once the loud vocals of the thunder screamed, making the fans scream loudly, force of the wind pushing at the beams that held the building together. Inside, the nine mercenaries sat solemnly in the mess hall, dark circles tugging at their eyes. They fought the other soulless team for days on end, and the storm provided them with their first break in months. But it did not seem like a break. The threat of the whole structure collapsing on them and the other workers inside hung above their heads, like a politician smiling mockingly at them. Fate was against the tired soldiers, and it was obvious that they were getting annoyed with it.
Sharp eyes grated against each other, preparing a fight for even sharper tongues. It was these rare days off that destroyed their morale. When they were forced to fight, forced to watch each other's backs, they were like a family. But when they weren't, they were each other's sharpening blocks. Tensions ran high and voices were raised higher. It didn't help that one of the key members of their teammates was found burned in the sewers earlier that day. With a storm like this, they wouldn't be able to get a replacement for another good three weeks. As soon as the weather improved, RED would learn a lesson that they would never forget. Do not ever mess with the BLU mercenaries at Teufort.
"Hey! Mumbles! Pay attention, geez!" A red haired wiry American glared over at his colleague.
Warm brown eyes flicked at the baseball player, and their owner's form leaned back in the old wooden chair. It took about two seconds for him to analyze the situation, and it was quickly deemed boring. His head turned, and looked out the thin glass pane that held the rain back. The scenery was grey. So dull. It reminded him of the emotion that he saw in his own eyes when he looked at them every morning in the mirror. Sure, Eda had a lot to be happy about. He was living the dream. He did what he loved, and got paid handsomely for it. $20 000 a year for simply standing around and watching people drop like flies in front of him all day. He should be happy. He should keep his chin up.
His broad shoulders sagged momentarily, temporarily failing to support his short frame. A heavily scarred and calloused hand went up, brushing the messy orange hair off his defined cheekbone. The dark cargo pants and simple standard issued BLU t-shirt complimented his slightly tanned skin, an indicator to his partial Vietnamese ancestry. His handsomely angled face gave way to his outward personality. On first glance, one would assume based on his appearance and expression, he was intelligent to some degree. If not that, at least mentally stable. But, you can't judge a book by its cover. Brown eyes hiding his inner insanity snapped back to the people around him.
"Maggot! I will not stand to have-" started a sturdy looking man, military helmet covering most of his face except his mouth.
"Listen, Herr Jane. Just because I'm German does not mean that I'm-" replied the tall, medical expert of the team.
"Do not interrupt me, you spineless scum! You're in the United States of America now! We are the land of the free! The land of the brave! We are a democracy! I won't stand to have a German terrorist and a communist spy in this base!"
The raven-haired German man frowned deeply, griping onto his utensils. He cursed that other man in German loudly. "Du bist ein schwein!"
A muscular looking Russian giant sitting next to the medic frowned deeply. "Why do little men fight? We are a team, yes? And there is nothing wrong with communism."
The half Dutch, half Vietnamese man could practically hear blood vessels popping in their self-dubbed commanding officer, Jane Doe. "DO NOT LOOK AT ME, I DID NOT ASK YOU A QUESTION. AND BESIDES, COMMUNISM IS A SIN. IT IS AN ABOMINATION TO THE HONORABLE JOHN F KENNEDY. WHY, IF HE WAS HERE-"
A smooth voice filled the air, every word laced with venom and a clear disliking of the loud soldier. "If John Kennedy was present, he'd be ashamed of your despicable behavior, Mr. Doe. And besides, democracy is a flawed dream. As long as humans exist, it will be imperfect. Communism in theory surpasses the humanity of democracy."
All eyes were on Eda, some shocked by his reaction. He was the silent member of the team, usually sticking to himself unless it was to talk to the engineer, Dell Conagher.
The loud-mouthed American sat there for a second, jaw slack. He wasn't accustomed to such blatant disrespect from such a highly valued member of the team. In mere seconds though, that slack jaw was replaced with a tight frown. "You are all weak! You are all bleeders! I joined this team to kill maggots like you!" Disapproval hung heavily in the air around. His fellow teammates, however, rolled their eyes at his usual talk. Talk had it that he had a few screws lose after coming out of the Great War alive. He turned on his heel and marched towards the door, saluting them with an "L" formation with his fingers on his forehead. "Dismissed, MAGGOTS."
A collective sigh of relief filled the room as his heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. James, that wiry baseball playing American, looked at Eda. "Hey... You ain't that bad mumbles."
Eda snorted and turned away, walking out of the mess hall and started down the hallway to his room.
In his hand, he gently flipped and turned a black lighter, a favorite possession of his.
