AFTER A NEARLY 2 YEAR HIATUS IM BACK! THE CORONACRISIS AND THE FACT I FINISHED MY TIME IN THE ARMY GAVE ME ENOUGH TIME TO START WRITING AGAIN. SO WITHOUT FURTHER TO DO, PLEASE ENJOY ME REWRITING THE PROLOGUE AND THE FIRST 3 CHAPTERS.
Welcome to my brand new and, more importantly, first story on this site! I know that I'm a bit late to the party but after binge-reading several great other stories I decided to go ahead and write my own self-insert. Now I want to declare right away that I won't be using my real name, but other than that it's the real me. I will also change a few plot elements for realism. Nothing big, just a few small changes.
Also, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY!
I have seen many, MANY great stories on this site that have just been abandoned. I have also seen many stories being only updated every 6 months or so. I do not want my stuff to join them.
Anyway, I'll quit rambling and without further to do, here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor any of its characters or content. I do however own some original characters. And no, I do not make any money from this.
Sunday, 20th of December 2020, 14:27;
Broken Chair Monument, United Nations Office at Geneva (UNOG), Switzerland.
"This sucks."
I look up from the paperwork I have been doing the last 30 minutes and see Staff Sergeant Schmidt fishing a cigarette out of his packet.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping right now?", I ask my second-in-command, returning my gaze back to the stack of paper in front of me. "You're on shift from 1600 until 0800."
"Can't sleep", he shrugs, as the smell of burning tobacco fills the room.
"Anyway, we've got only what, not even 30 days left until we've finished our service, and they put us in charge of a checkpoint in the middle of a city", Schmidt continues, taking another drag from his cigarette, "I don't like this, we're the perfect target for those god-damn pissed-of piece-of-shit protestors"
"Schmidt, you know that I agree with you", I respond, scratching my head, "and you know just as I do that we have to execute our orders, whether we like them or not. I might be an officer, but I'm still just a Lieutenant."
"First Lieutenant, sir"
"Right, still getting used to that", I reply while scratching my chin, "Nevertheless, when command, in their infinite wisdom, tells our battalion to provide security while a bunch of world leaders butt heads inside that building I can't really say no, First Lieutenant or not, now can I?"
"I know", he sighs, "and when talking to the guys I ain't saying nothing, but it still sucks."
I let out a grunt in understanding. In less than a month every one of our company will have finished their mandatory service in the Swiss Armed Forces and can return to their civilian life. Nobody wants to get hurt, especially not now.
"Look, I'll talk with the Captain, maybe we can be rotated back home for Christmas, but I need you to make sure none of our guys do anything stupid in the meantime, ok Schmid?"
"Yeah", he murmurs, "I got you."
I smile a bit. Not afraid to say what's on his mind and doesn't care if that's a superior, but always getting the job done. That man might be a bit rough on the outside, but Schmid is the best second-in-command I could have asked for, and he's always had my back.
Reaching to the ground, I pick up my rifle and helmet.
"I'm going to check in on the guys, see if anything special has happened the last hour", I say to Schmid while checking my rifle, a Stgw 90. "Anybody needs me, I've got a radio on me."
"Copy that", I hear him reply while I'm exiting the tent. The Private guarding the tent gives me a respectful nod as I make my way to the first of three posts where my men are operating the checkpoint. Checking my watch, I note it's 14:33. Still nine and a half hours on my shift. I sigh, and carry on to the post.
Monday, 21st of December 2020, 07:59
"Anything interesting happen the last eight hours? Please tell me no, Schmidt."
I grab my cup of coffee from the table, having woken up just 10 minutes ago, and take a sip.
"Well, I don't know how you did it, but Command approved our request to be rotated back home for Christmas."
I almost spit out my coffee. "Wait, seriously?", I ask him wide-eyed. "That fast?"
"Yeah, I thought they'd be taking their sweet time as well on this, but rumor has it a secretary of some high-ranking officer pushed it on top of the pile. Y'know, tall, blonde, green eyes, could have sworn her name's Jessica", he gives me a pointed look. "You wouldn't know anything 'bout that, would you?"
"I will neither confirm nor deny anything", I reply, though I feel a twitch as I try to suppress a grin.
"Sure", Schmidt says turning the pointed look into a smirk, "Just telling you what rumors I heard about. You know how much soldiers like to talk."
I groan, wanting to change the topic. "Apart from theorizing on my love-life-"
"Never said that I was theorizing about anyones love-life, let alone yours."
"-anything else to report about, Schmidt?"
"Nope, nothing much out of the ordinary. Charpentier and Müller had a little spat again."
"Oh not again", I groan, "I swear, French-speaking and German-speaking soldiers get along like cats and fucking dogs. Let me guess, kitchen duty and cleaning the toilets?"
Schmidt nods his head.
"Alright, anything else? What about civvies?", I ask.
"Ziegeler, Girard and Rossi have all reported low numbers of civvies passing the checkpoint", reports Schmidt whilst finishing his cigarette, "Although…"
"Although what?", I ask.
"When I say low numbers… I mean really low. Hell, so far during today's morning rush-hour we've only stopped around 10 cars and 20 pedestrians."
"Well, we have been here for a while now. People talk, they're most likely avoiding us and taking different routes.", I reply, trying to analyze this new information. "Still… Have you already relayed this data to command?"
"Yeah, and their reply was just them telling us that they received our intel, no new orders, nothing", he responds.
"Gotta love the army", I murmur, drawing a slight chuckle from Schmidt.
He cleans up his things, I finish my coffee and start my morning rounds, checking up on all three posts.
Two hours later, I'm back at the first post talking with my Privates.
"One thing I don't understand is, why are there exactly protests? Like, if the UN finally gets their collective heads out of their asses wouldn't that be one of the few good things that happened in 2020?"
"Because Mario", answers Lukas to the other Private, "They're idiots who just want to protest because they can, and because they're angry at everything that happened to them this year."
"I know, I know," answered Mario while checking his LMG, "Still, you'd think nobody would want to stand in the way of people trying to fix things. And I didn't think I'd turn that bad that we actually had to be deployed. You know, something that actually has the potential of me getting hurt when I only have like, a month left?"
"Shut up, Mario, all of us here are conscripts," said Lukas, "and all of us have only 1 month left before we're out. Hell, we have only served 9 months so far. If anybody has is allowed bitch around it is the Lt, he's been doing this for the past year and 9 months. Ain't that right Lieutenant?" he calls out while looking at me.
I chuckle before answering, "Jup, 634 days so far and 34 days to go. And the reason I'm not bitchin' and moanin' is because I just learned to embrace the suck. Now keep your head on a swivel and make sure nobody gets past this fence, we just need to do this until tomorrow and then we'll be home for Christmas."
"Ain't to hard since we haven't seen anyone since eight-thirty this morning, but yes sir", I hear Mario answer as both focus their attention back towards the empty street, leading towards the train station. Just as I want to return to my command tent, the radio 2 meters away from me comes alive.
"Castle-1, this is Broadway, respond, over"
"Hey LT, I think that's for you", says Mario as he hands me the microphone.
"Ah damn", I reply while taking it from him, "it's HQ"
I clear my throat before pressing on the transmit button.
"Broadway, Castle-1-Actual, copy, over"
"Copy, be advised, Battalion S-2 has confirmed multiple groups of armed individuals near the train station, moving west towards your position, ETA 10 mikes, over."
"Fuck", I swear before transmitting again, "Castle-1 copies, interrogative: What's the number of individuals we're dealing with, over?"
"Copy, estimates are 30 to 40 individuals, at least 5 visibly armed with rifles, no further intel available. No change of ROE, use of deadly force only authorized if fired upon, however you are allowed to fire warning shots, over."
"Broadway, Castle-1, copy, no change in ROE, over"
Mario and Lukas gasp upon hearing me.
"copy, affirmative, QRF is on their way to assist but are being held up, ETA 20 mikes. out"
I put the microphone back on the radio, my hands shaking. Turning to face the two Privates, I'm greeted with two faces white as a sheet.
"Well f-fuck me", stammers Lukas, "didn't th-think w-we'd act-"
"Listen Lukas,"I cut him off, "I know it's a lot to take in, but right now I need you to wake everyone off duty and tell them we've got incoming from the station, and that it's not a drill."
"I-I don't w-want t-to shoot-"
"PRIVATE!", I shout forcefully, hoping to get him to focus, "I need you to get the others, now, or we will get hurt. Can you do this for me?"
"Y-yes, sir", he replies and runs off to the Troop accommodation tent.
Monday, 21st of December 2020, 10:19 (7 minutes later)
I heard the sounds of what had to be an angry mob getting louder, getting closer. Every so often, a gunshot echoes through the now deserted street. Of my 35 men, 6 are covering our flank and back, 20 were on the haphazardly reinforced eastern barricade and 9 were still getting dressed and equipped, seeing as they were supposed to be on their off-shift.
"Remember", I yell into my radio, "only fire if they shoot first. I want to stall them with words for as long as I can, until the QRF can reinforce us, and hopefully not use any force. Understood?"
The reply comes over the radio as a chorus of "understood, sir" and "copy that", and I put my focus back to the street again.
I was taking cover behind our Piranha APC, parked in the middle of the entryway. Three more soldiers were taking positions behind the vehicle, one was on the APC's heavy machine gun and the rest was taking cover behind the various sandbags we used to secure our checkpoint.
"CONTACT FRONT, 150 METERS!", I hear somebody yell, and I see 6 policemen, equipped with riot gear, run around the bend of the street.
Upon seeing us they start running even faster, and one of them waves his hands and yells something. Not a second later a human wave of protestors comes crashing around the corner, throwing bottles and stones at the police. However, the sudden sight of more than 20 heavily armed soldiers pointing their guns at them makes their advance come to a crashing halt.
The momentary hesitation of the mob gave the policemen enough time to reach our position, and my soldiers let them through our lines.
I take a quick glance at him and his men. All of them seem like they've been hurt, some worse than others. At least two shields have big cracks in them, and one uniform looks partly burnt and melted as if a Molotov cocktail hit the officer.
"How dangerous are they?", I ask one of the policemen in French.
"They have stones, molotovs, metal pipes, and a lot of anger.", comes his reply. "Some of them waved around pistols, but they could have been fake because they never used them."
"Shit", I curse under my breath, before replying "Alright, thanks. Now go to the back and find Sgt Rossi, some of your men look like they need medical assistance."
"Oui, lieutenant, and thank you for saving our asses.", the policeman replies before filtering to the back of the line.
'Don't thank me yet', I think as I focus my attention back on the mob, and it seems as though a bunch of people are trying to come to the front. All of the sudden, from the angry mob emerge a bunch of men armed with heavy metal pipes, all surrounding one carrying a loudspeaker. As they advance towards us, the rest of the mob follows them, albeit at a slower pace than when they were following the policemen.
"Lieutenant, it's Schmidt, what are your orders, over?", I hear Staff Sergeant Schmid asking me through the platoon radio, connecting me with all of my squad leaders.
I quickly look around and see a megaphone sitting on a table not ten meters away. "Hold positions, I have an idea."
I grab the large device, get back to my original position and turn it on.
"THIS IS FIRST LIEUTENANT MATTHEW HARTMANN, SWISS ARMED FORCES. HALT YOUR ADVANCE IMMEDIATELY!", I speak, my voice electronically amplified by the handheld loudspeaker. However, instead of stopping the man with his own loudspeaker, seemingly the leader, starts to yell paroles at his people.
"HALT YOUR ADVANCE IMMEDIATELY, OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO FIRE A WARNING SHOT!"
This however had an effect, and a large portion of the mob grinds back to a halt. Their leader however tells them that we're just bluffing, that we don't have the authority to shoot civilians and manages to get the crowd moving again, slowly moving towards us.
"Sir, they're about to reach 100m distance", says Private Mario, who has taken his position right beside me.
"I know", I reply back to him, "Mario, when I say Fire, I want you to let loose a burst of tracers into the sandbag on the left, understood?"
"Yes sir.", he grimly replies, pulling his machine gun's charging handle back and chambering a bullet.
I turn my loudspeaker back on. "WE WILL FIRE A WARNING SHOT. IF YOU DO NOT HALT THEN WE WILL BE FORCED TO OPEN FIRE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!"
"Mario, one burst on the sandbags, FIRE!"
With that order, Mario squeezes the trigger of his LMG. He lets loose a 7-Round burst of red tracer bullets, hitting the sandbags just 20 meters next to the mob. Several shrieks are heard from the crowd while their slow advance comes crashing to a halt in seconds, a few even starting to flee. The majority however doesn't, and are now sitting still almost exactly 100 meters away from us.
Their leader fumbles around a bit with his loudspeaker, clearly surprised that we followed through with our threat.
"LIEUTENANT, SHOW YOURSELF, LET US TALK FACE-TO-FACE LIKE MEN, NOBODY HAS TO GET HURT!", he shouts through the booming device.
"Don't do it Lt, it's a trap", I hear somebody say through the radio.
"Yeah, that's a dumb ass idea right there" somebody else says.
"ANSWER, LIEUTENANT, OR ANYTHING THAT FOLLOWS WILL BE YOUR FAULT!"
"Lieutenant?", asks me Mario worriedly.
"I AM WAITING!"
"Lieutenant, don't do it, he's bluffing."
"I'm not so sure Staff Sarge"
"YOU DISAPPOINT ME LIEUTENANT! EVERYONE, KEEP ADVANC-"
"fuck, fuck, that bastard ain't bluffin LT'"
"ALRIGHT, LET US MEET IN THE MIDDLE!", I yell through the loudspeaker. Dropping behind cover again, I let go of the megaphone and try to slow my breathing.
"…Lieutenant, you're sweating.", states Mario quietly, looking up to me behind his machine gun.
I touch my face. Sure enough, my fingers come back wet, and I feel a drop wanting to drip from my chin. I take another deep breath, stand up and make my way to the front of our line.
"All squads, remember the ROE, you are only cleared to fire if they shoot first, otherwise you are to exclusively use non-lethal ammunition, understood?"
"Matt, you'll be in the line of fire!", I hear Schmid's voice crackle over the radio.
"I know the risk, but better one of us injured than 10. Now, did you hear my orders?"
"…Copy sir."
"Good, Hartmann out"
With that I end the conversation as I make my way to meet the other side. Once we're no further that 10 meters apart, we stop. He starts talking before I can get a word out.
"Lieutenant" he shouts, "we don't want to fight you. You and I, we're both just pieces on a chessboard for them. All we want is to get those asshole politicians. Lower your weapons and stand with us, I promise that you will be welcomed with open arms to our cause."
"You know I can't do that", I reply, "my orders are to stop you at all costs. However, if you leave now, I will not try to arrest or stop you. But this right here, where I'm standing, is a line you are not allowed to cross."
The man was starting to get furious by my words. Angrily, he shouts, "I am giving you the chance to stand with the people! With your people! Our people! To stop those idiots in charge of ruining our lives! Haven't you as well suffered because of them? If you can't stand with us, at least stand aside and let us do what the people want to do!"
I look him straight in the eye, and without hesitation reply, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."
The look he gives me is filled with hatred. "Then you are no better than the pigs you protect!" And with an angry roar he pulls a small, silver pistol out of a pocket, aims it right at my chest, and pulls the trigger.
*BANG*
I feel as though a horse just kicked me in the chest, and all of the air inside my lungs is pushed out of me.
"SHOTS FIRED!", I hear Mario's voice shout over the radio.
"MATT!", I hear a familiar voice as I start falling towards the ground.
"OPEN FIRE!", I hear someone say as my crumpling form hits the asphalt surface, head facing upwards.
As I lay on the ground and look towards the sky, a staccato of pops and bangs from the right deafens my ears and I see red flashes of light zip by above me, from right to left, reminding me of shooting stars. Screams assault my now ringing ears, and suddenly the pops and bangs come from both sides, and the red flashes now seem to be mixed with green flashes going from the left to the right.
As I lay there on the cold, asphalt road, every now and then it feels as if someone punches me hard in the sides, but I don't feel any pain. As the gunfire and screams around me fade, I lift my head to look at my body, and I see multiple holes in my uniform. However, my eyes are suddenly glued to the dark red stains near my chest, which are rapidly growing. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and while I don't feel anything, I can't help but watch as the stains keeps getting bigger and bigger, while noticing a small crimson puddle forming underneath me on the cold pavement. I hear a ringing in my ears and time seems to be going at a snail's pace, and I have all but forgotten the gunfight around me. I cough, and notice something sticky and liquid coming out of my mouth. After what felt like an hour, I suddenly see Mario firing his LMG, and Schmidt kneeling next to me. Schmidt, looking horrified at the amount of blood that has pooled underneath me. My attention goes back to my gaping wound, I notice my eyes starting to become heavy and my vision getting darker and darker, and the last thing I think about is if I'll be able to go home for Christmas.
Short Disambiguation for Military Slang in this chapter
S-2: Staff Officer (Intelligence)
Stgw-90: Standard military rifle of the Swiss Armed Forces, civilian designation SIG 550.
LMG: Light Machine Gun (Typically 5.56mm or equivalent intermediate rifle caliber)
HMG: Heavy Machine Gun (Typically 12.7mm or equivalent caliber)
APC: Armored Personnel Carrier
QRF: Quick Reaction Force
Aand that's it, ladies and gentlemen, Chapter 1 of my Self-Insert is complete! I know that there was absolutely no Mass Effect in this chapter, but this was simply a chapter to get to know the background of, well, me while setting things up for the future. Don't you worry, from the next chapter onward it will all be in the ME-verse.
I know, me depicting how a squad of soldiers kill a partly-armed mob of rioters will definitely cause some controversy, but I don't want my character to be a morally infallible person with the perfect answer to every possible scenario, and I also wanted to show how difficult the decision-making as an officer can be. Sometimes there's no good option, only different bad ones. This also means that this story will at times get pretty dark, so you have been warned! What would you have done if you were in this situation?
On another note, I have zero experience with writing a story, so any comments with constrictive criticism are extremely welcome. Anyway, until at least in a week, c ya!