Author's note: This is the other stage-setter I'm writing. The other is a
rather inexpert MechWarrior fic, and I'm planning to cross the two over, so
bear with me. Command and Conquer Red Alert 2 belongs to Westwood Studios. I'm
just borrowing it, albeit without permission.
Alexi Rosu was having the weirdest day. He was a Russian-Romanian expatriot
who had joined the Allied forces after defecting to the West. Like a lot of
other Allied Chrono Legionairres, he had been lent to the United States to
help in their war against the U.S.S.R. But this battle was different. Their
commander had told them that this would be a 'skirmish' involving several
rogue Soviet and Allied factions, all bent on each other's destruction.
The battle had gone fairly well until the commander had captured a
Soviet base. Alexi had not been called into the battle, so he had hung around
inside the barracks waiting for something to happen.
Then something did. He had been standing by one of the geeks that the
commander always kept handy for incoming transmissions, when the guy had
started pounding away on his keyboard like his life depended on it.
"What's up?" he asked as he saw blueprints flashing by on the screen.
They looked like Soviet techs.
"Oh, bunch of stuff." the technician replied. "The commander has
captured a Soviet base, and a spy has just sent us some blueprints that he
sole out of one of the rebel Frog's battle labs. Real crazy shit, like
personal chronoshifing devices."
Alexi hadn't though much of it until he had been told to try one on
himself.
"Rosu," the tech in the armory was telling him "the commander wants
chrono personnel to try this new shit. See, it's like the chrono backpack, but
you've got a H&K MP5-K and a whole bunch of C4. It's for surgical strikes. Oh,
and I'll need a blood sample."
"Blood sample?" he asked as a medic took it "what the fuck for? I've
had my shots."
"Don't ask me, I think it's some crazy new tech that the commander
captured from the Soviets. And watch that backpack, it's expensive."
About a minuit later, Alexi was fully outfitted. Coming out of the barracks,
he looked around. There were Prism and Mirage tanks milling around, and a
large building near the barracks that he didn't recognize. It was obviously of
Soviet design, and there was anothe Chrono Commando standing near it. Just
then, a fresh GI walked out of the barracks door behind him, just as an
identical GI walked out of the captured Soviet building. The two looked
similer. Remarkably similer, in fact. He looked from one to the other and
nearly jumped out of his skin. The GIs were identical. They were either twins,
or, given Soviet research that he had heard rumors about...clones. Then his
eyes turned to the Chrono Commando standing near the Cloning Vats.
He walked towards the man he knew to be his body-double, wondering
what composed the mind of a clone. Was it a flat, souless automoton, or would
it have a unique mind of it's own? Or would it contain a replica of his mind
and memories? He shuddered at the thought. It would be like having the
ultimate younger brother, someone who could spill all of your secrets without
fear of retribution, because although he could think of them, he had not
personally done them.
He tapped his clone on the shoulder, bracing himself. The clone turned
and he found himself staring at a perfect reflection of himself. Even though
Alexi (the template) had been expecting it, he (and his clone) jumped.
"Holy shit!" they both cried in unison. It was the same voice, same
tones, same inflection. The clone was a mental replica as well a physical one.
The warring commanders had decided to put the battle on hold for a
while and had accordingly shut down their bases. Personell were heading
around, getting some R&R. No one could tell how long the hiatus would last, it
could be anywhere from minuits to days. Sometimes, they were never restarted,
as the commander simply moved them off-site to fight another battle from
square one. No one could ever figure out what he was thinking.
Alexi headed for the mess hall,and after he got his chow, he sat down
next to his clone. There were some things he needed to figure out. "Hello." He
began. The clone returned the greeting. "Let's get a few things straight.
First of all, you know that you ARE a clone, right, and that I'm the
origional?"
"Yes." the clone replied. He looked a bit haunted, "I know all that. I
also know everything about you. I know everything you've done, so don't get
uppity."
"Me? Uppity? I'm the one who's actually been in all those battles.
Sure, you can recall them, but I'm the one who actually went through the hell
of being there."
"HELL? YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HELL IS?" the clone snarled back "How
about waking up in a vat of fluid with your memories in my head, in addition
to the data that those scientists encoded into my brain; the knowledge that I
was a clone, a genetic grunt created to help some fucking commanders fight
some fucking war. Even if I survive, which I doubt, I still won't have a
normal life; I remember what you did when you saw American Beauty, you know
that movie that won best picture in '98 or '99? Remember how that flaky broad
who played the mother said 'the worst thing in the world is to be normal'?
Well, she was WRONG. I'd kill to have had a standard life. But no, I'm just
some thing that some scientists cooked up a few hours ago, pal. So don't talk
to me about hell."
Alexi recoiled. This guy was a melodramatic jerk. Then a thought
struck him: he was his clone! Whatever personality traits he exhibited were
also present in himself. This clone thing might be trickier than he had
thught.
His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his friend, Bart Webb.
Bart was a bit of an asshole, but he was pretty funny to have around. He
didn't seem to be in a joking mood, though, when he saw his friend and his
friend's clone sitting next to each other.
"OK, so who's the original?" Bart asked as he sat down across from
them.
The clone pointed to Alexi.
"OK, you two are identical," Bart mused, staring at them both "So we
need a way to discriminate. Howzabout this" they both looked up "we call you
Alexi" he pointed to the origional "and we call you Alex." he finished,
nodding at the clone.
"OK." Alexi and Alex said at the same time.
"Damn, this cloning stuff is prescise-" Bart began, but the alarm
sounded. Apparently the commanders were restarting the battle.
As everyone headed for their places, Bart pulled Alex aside "Listen, I
heard your little speech, so I think you must be pretty fucked up right now.
But listen, do you have Alexi's memories?" When Alex nodded, Bart went on "All
right, you should go through them. In the memories of about three months ago,
you'll find that he had a one-night stand with some blonde that lives about a
hundred miles from here. Her name is Zeroleen, and she's the quinessential
dumb blonde. She's hot as hell, and she likes..."
"French poetry, altough just saying something in French will turn her
on. She also likes animals, particularly cute and furry ones, and New Age
music. Her phone number is..."
"You've got the idea. After this battle is over, why don't you pay
her a visit? Being a clone can have it's upsides. Don't have to bother with
icebreakers."
Alex nodded, cheered up for the first time in his life.
Twenty minuits later, Alexi, Alex, as well as PVTFC Rodriguez and his
clone were getting ready for a surgical strike at the rogue German commander.
Rodriguez and his clone were chrono troopers, who were coming along to take out
any vehicles that might oppose them. Their mission was to infiltrate the
German base, kill the engineers he was building, and take out his ConYard,
Service Depot, War Factory, and power plants. After that, they were to shift
out and let the commander's prism and apocalypse tanks take the base apart.
The commander was one of those neurotic types who refused to let them
do long-range chronoshifts, so that their chronoshadows (that was the tech's
name for the template of self that appeard at the destination) wouldn't be
vulnerable for too long. It was a safer plan, but very annoying.
As they reached the edge of the rogue German base, they recieved their
last set of coordinates. They jumped, and he could feel himself traveling
though space without ever touching the introminant points. He was in his not
in his chronoshadow, as of yet, but would be soon.
Then he reformed. Looking around, he saw that he and the other three
were standing in the ore fields near the rear of the base. Two ore screws were
standing near them, extracing all the ore they could. Then they saw trouble
coming their way: a single Iraqi Desolator.
The Desolator had obviously been part of an attacking force, because
there was the wreckage of tanks and dead bodies lying all over the base, all
in the same green that he was wearing.
The desolator was being shot at by two fortified GIs, and he looked
badly hurt. His radiation-proof suit didn't seem to have been compromised,
though, so he knelt down and popped the high-radiation charging cylinder out
of his rad-cannon. Instantly, the aera around him was illuminated in the wave
of energy that poured out. The screams of the attacking GIs faded as their
bodies melted into puddles of radioactive slime.
Alex and the two Chrono Legionairres jumped out of the radiation's
range, but Alexi was caught on the very fringe of the burst. It wasn't enough
to kill him, but he fell back, aeras of his skin blistering. He landed outside
the field on his back, and he heard a loud cruch behind him. He had fallen on
his chrono backpack.
"Oh CHRIST!" he yelled as he jumped up. His skin was hurting like
hell, but there was no time to worry about that. Sparks were coming out of his
backpack. His radio crackled. It was the comm officer who dispatched orders:
"Scrub the mission! Thre's the rebel French force, coming in fast."
He looked up just as a Prism bolt blasted the Desolator in front of him to
pieces. The ground started to reuturn to normal, but he had no time to think
about that. He didn't know if his backpack was working.
"HEY! ALEX!" he yelled as the Rodriguezes chronoed out.
"What's up?"
"I fell on my backpack, so it might be fucked up. What do you know
about this stuff?"
"Not much, but I'll tie the backpacks together and see if we can shift
back."
"Will that work?"
"Dunno. It should, but we don't know the exact problem. If it dosn't,
we'll never know." As he was talking, Alex was hardwiring the backpacks
together. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Alexi replied.
"Right. HIT IT!" They both leaned on the shift button in unison.
They could feel themselves twisting through the fabric of time and
space, but the experience had never been like this before. Normally, it felt
like you were being streched out, then snapping back together like a Stretch
Armstrong doll. Here it felt to them like they tere in a sort of time-space
washing machine, being pulled and twisted around by cosmic forces and
remaining alive more through luck than mechanations of their own.
When they finally emerged with the usual popping noise, they found
themselves on a shattered futureistic base. It was night time, and there were
giant mechanical walkers strwn around. There was a smell of blood in the air
and a man lying on the ground near them.
-------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------
(I'm writing a crossover between this and my MechWarrior fic.)
rather inexpert MechWarrior fic, and I'm planning to cross the two over, so
bear with me. Command and Conquer Red Alert 2 belongs to Westwood Studios. I'm
just borrowing it, albeit without permission.
Alexi Rosu was having the weirdest day. He was a Russian-Romanian expatriot
who had joined the Allied forces after defecting to the West. Like a lot of
other Allied Chrono Legionairres, he had been lent to the United States to
help in their war against the U.S.S.R. But this battle was different. Their
commander had told them that this would be a 'skirmish' involving several
rogue Soviet and Allied factions, all bent on each other's destruction.
The battle had gone fairly well until the commander had captured a
Soviet base. Alexi had not been called into the battle, so he had hung around
inside the barracks waiting for something to happen.
Then something did. He had been standing by one of the geeks that the
commander always kept handy for incoming transmissions, when the guy had
started pounding away on his keyboard like his life depended on it.
"What's up?" he asked as he saw blueprints flashing by on the screen.
They looked like Soviet techs.
"Oh, bunch of stuff." the technician replied. "The commander has
captured a Soviet base, and a spy has just sent us some blueprints that he
sole out of one of the rebel Frog's battle labs. Real crazy shit, like
personal chronoshifing devices."
Alexi hadn't though much of it until he had been told to try one on
himself.
"Rosu," the tech in the armory was telling him "the commander wants
chrono personnel to try this new shit. See, it's like the chrono backpack, but
you've got a H&K MP5-K and a whole bunch of C4. It's for surgical strikes. Oh,
and I'll need a blood sample."
"Blood sample?" he asked as a medic took it "what the fuck for? I've
had my shots."
"Don't ask me, I think it's some crazy new tech that the commander
captured from the Soviets. And watch that backpack, it's expensive."
About a minuit later, Alexi was fully outfitted. Coming out of the barracks,
he looked around. There were Prism and Mirage tanks milling around, and a
large building near the barracks that he didn't recognize. It was obviously of
Soviet design, and there was anothe Chrono Commando standing near it. Just
then, a fresh GI walked out of the barracks door behind him, just as an
identical GI walked out of the captured Soviet building. The two looked
similer. Remarkably similer, in fact. He looked from one to the other and
nearly jumped out of his skin. The GIs were identical. They were either twins,
or, given Soviet research that he had heard rumors about...clones. Then his
eyes turned to the Chrono Commando standing near the Cloning Vats.
He walked towards the man he knew to be his body-double, wondering
what composed the mind of a clone. Was it a flat, souless automoton, or would
it have a unique mind of it's own? Or would it contain a replica of his mind
and memories? He shuddered at the thought. It would be like having the
ultimate younger brother, someone who could spill all of your secrets without
fear of retribution, because although he could think of them, he had not
personally done them.
He tapped his clone on the shoulder, bracing himself. The clone turned
and he found himself staring at a perfect reflection of himself. Even though
Alexi (the template) had been expecting it, he (and his clone) jumped.
"Holy shit!" they both cried in unison. It was the same voice, same
tones, same inflection. The clone was a mental replica as well a physical one.
The warring commanders had decided to put the battle on hold for a
while and had accordingly shut down their bases. Personell were heading
around, getting some R&R. No one could tell how long the hiatus would last, it
could be anywhere from minuits to days. Sometimes, they were never restarted,
as the commander simply moved them off-site to fight another battle from
square one. No one could ever figure out what he was thinking.
Alexi headed for the mess hall,and after he got his chow, he sat down
next to his clone. There were some things he needed to figure out. "Hello." He
began. The clone returned the greeting. "Let's get a few things straight.
First of all, you know that you ARE a clone, right, and that I'm the
origional?"
"Yes." the clone replied. He looked a bit haunted, "I know all that. I
also know everything about you. I know everything you've done, so don't get
uppity."
"Me? Uppity? I'm the one who's actually been in all those battles.
Sure, you can recall them, but I'm the one who actually went through the hell
of being there."
"HELL? YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HELL IS?" the clone snarled back "How
about waking up in a vat of fluid with your memories in my head, in addition
to the data that those scientists encoded into my brain; the knowledge that I
was a clone, a genetic grunt created to help some fucking commanders fight
some fucking war. Even if I survive, which I doubt, I still won't have a
normal life; I remember what you did when you saw American Beauty, you know
that movie that won best picture in '98 or '99? Remember how that flaky broad
who played the mother said 'the worst thing in the world is to be normal'?
Well, she was WRONG. I'd kill to have had a standard life. But no, I'm just
some thing that some scientists cooked up a few hours ago, pal. So don't talk
to me about hell."
Alexi recoiled. This guy was a melodramatic jerk. Then a thought
struck him: he was his clone! Whatever personality traits he exhibited were
also present in himself. This clone thing might be trickier than he had
thught.
His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his friend, Bart Webb.
Bart was a bit of an asshole, but he was pretty funny to have around. He
didn't seem to be in a joking mood, though, when he saw his friend and his
friend's clone sitting next to each other.
"OK, so who's the original?" Bart asked as he sat down across from
them.
The clone pointed to Alexi.
"OK, you two are identical," Bart mused, staring at them both "So we
need a way to discriminate. Howzabout this" they both looked up "we call you
Alexi" he pointed to the origional "and we call you Alex." he finished,
nodding at the clone.
"OK." Alexi and Alex said at the same time.
"Damn, this cloning stuff is prescise-" Bart began, but the alarm
sounded. Apparently the commanders were restarting the battle.
As everyone headed for their places, Bart pulled Alex aside "Listen, I
heard your little speech, so I think you must be pretty fucked up right now.
But listen, do you have Alexi's memories?" When Alex nodded, Bart went on "All
right, you should go through them. In the memories of about three months ago,
you'll find that he had a one-night stand with some blonde that lives about a
hundred miles from here. Her name is Zeroleen, and she's the quinessential
dumb blonde. She's hot as hell, and she likes..."
"French poetry, altough just saying something in French will turn her
on. She also likes animals, particularly cute and furry ones, and New Age
music. Her phone number is..."
"You've got the idea. After this battle is over, why don't you pay
her a visit? Being a clone can have it's upsides. Don't have to bother with
icebreakers."
Alex nodded, cheered up for the first time in his life.
Twenty minuits later, Alexi, Alex, as well as PVTFC Rodriguez and his
clone were getting ready for a surgical strike at the rogue German commander.
Rodriguez and his clone were chrono troopers, who were coming along to take out
any vehicles that might oppose them. Their mission was to infiltrate the
German base, kill the engineers he was building, and take out his ConYard,
Service Depot, War Factory, and power plants. After that, they were to shift
out and let the commander's prism and apocalypse tanks take the base apart.
The commander was one of those neurotic types who refused to let them
do long-range chronoshifts, so that their chronoshadows (that was the tech's
name for the template of self that appeard at the destination) wouldn't be
vulnerable for too long. It was a safer plan, but very annoying.
As they reached the edge of the rogue German base, they recieved their
last set of coordinates. They jumped, and he could feel himself traveling
though space without ever touching the introminant points. He was in his not
in his chronoshadow, as of yet, but would be soon.
Then he reformed. Looking around, he saw that he and the other three
were standing in the ore fields near the rear of the base. Two ore screws were
standing near them, extracing all the ore they could. Then they saw trouble
coming their way: a single Iraqi Desolator.
The Desolator had obviously been part of an attacking force, because
there was the wreckage of tanks and dead bodies lying all over the base, all
in the same green that he was wearing.
The desolator was being shot at by two fortified GIs, and he looked
badly hurt. His radiation-proof suit didn't seem to have been compromised,
though, so he knelt down and popped the high-radiation charging cylinder out
of his rad-cannon. Instantly, the aera around him was illuminated in the wave
of energy that poured out. The screams of the attacking GIs faded as their
bodies melted into puddles of radioactive slime.
Alex and the two Chrono Legionairres jumped out of the radiation's
range, but Alexi was caught on the very fringe of the burst. It wasn't enough
to kill him, but he fell back, aeras of his skin blistering. He landed outside
the field on his back, and he heard a loud cruch behind him. He had fallen on
his chrono backpack.
"Oh CHRIST!" he yelled as he jumped up. His skin was hurting like
hell, but there was no time to worry about that. Sparks were coming out of his
backpack. His radio crackled. It was the comm officer who dispatched orders:
"Scrub the mission! Thre's the rebel French force, coming in fast."
He looked up just as a Prism bolt blasted the Desolator in front of him to
pieces. The ground started to reuturn to normal, but he had no time to think
about that. He didn't know if his backpack was working.
"HEY! ALEX!" he yelled as the Rodriguezes chronoed out.
"What's up?"
"I fell on my backpack, so it might be fucked up. What do you know
about this stuff?"
"Not much, but I'll tie the backpacks together and see if we can shift
back."
"Will that work?"
"Dunno. It should, but we don't know the exact problem. If it dosn't,
we'll never know." As he was talking, Alex was hardwiring the backpacks
together. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Alexi replied.
"Right. HIT IT!" They both leaned on the shift button in unison.
They could feel themselves twisting through the fabric of time and
space, but the experience had never been like this before. Normally, it felt
like you were being streched out, then snapping back together like a Stretch
Armstrong doll. Here it felt to them like they tere in a sort of time-space
washing machine, being pulled and twisted around by cosmic forces and
remaining alive more through luck than mechanations of their own.
When they finally emerged with the usual popping noise, they found
themselves on a shattered futureistic base. It was night time, and there were
giant mechanical walkers strwn around. There was a smell of blood in the air
and a man lying on the ground near them.
-------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------
(I'm writing a crossover between this and my MechWarrior fic.)