~
"Mina, you're a real sweetheart... but you sure get me in a lot of binds..."
Selphie sighed with a little smile at the girl upon the bed. It had taken a bit of effort, but Selphie had managed to lay Mina under the bedsheets. Mina was limp and perfectly still; the blankets rose and fell gently with her breaths. Her face poked out at the tip of the covers, and revealed a light smile on her face.
She always smiles like that, thought Selphie. She's so bright and cheery, always the one to pick me up when I'm down.
Selphie sighed. I used to be like that.
She unzipped her black jumpsuit, and tossed it carelessly onto the cold ground. Things have changed so much. And so much of it's my fault. I can't go anywhere without seeing what my failure has caused. I don't care what Mina says.I can't just wake up tomorrow and say, "I think I'll be happy!"
She pressed her metal-scratched palms upon the surface of the old dresser. I'm not allowed to be happy, she thought, staring at the long red marks that ran up and down her hands. Trabia is ruined...everyone's miserable...there's no hope anymore. I can't be happy, knowing I caused all that...
She raised her eyes, and began to study her own face. It was something she rarely attempted as of late. Her shame prevented her a great number of times from meeting with her mirror. But tonight, for some reason, she felt that she deserved the disgust that watching her own visage always brought.
So this night, she gazed boldly upon the torture of herself. Her face had grown pale and weary from labor in the bleak, dreary Wasteland. Her auburn hair, once cut short and styled with a little curl at the end, was long, faded and dusty. Bruises and scratches covered her naked body. Even her vibrant green eyes seemed to have dulled over time. Her eyelids were swollen purple for want of sleep.
I did this... I did this to everyone... oh Hyne, it's all my fault!
Selphie's puffy eyes grew tight. She pressed her face into her rough palms, and felt her lip tremble as she breathed a submissive cry. Her saline tears ran across her fingers, and stung at the tiny scrapes upon them.
"Hyne..." she exhaled, sobbing as she always did, when Mina was asleep, and she could. "Oh, Hyne... I'm sorry... I know I deserve it..."
She cried to herself long into the night, until she had used all her tears, and then continued without them. But sorrow slowly exhausted her over time. It left her sitting upon the cold floor, shaking, and wrapped in her own arms. She stared silently at the broken light bulb on the ceiling, until her sorrow dragged her head to the floor, where she fell asleep.
~
Insertion will take place at 0735 hours. Insertion team will be dropped at Point A* for immediate target engagement. See target profile (attached) for description of target and acceptable methods of force.
"I'm sick of this," sighed Ghost tiredly, as he read through a folder containing a basic version of the next day's mission briefing.
He lay on the cot of his private quarters, a small but adequate room that was standard for soldiers stationed within the TerraPlexus. It was a simple, white-painted, four-walled space that many soldiers decorated to keep away monotony. It was not uncommon to find letters from family, immodest calendars, or even medals and decorations taped to the boring walls.
But no such things adorned Ghost's quarters. The room more closely resembled a prison cell. The only bits of originality within it were a notepad on the foldable bedstand, a mirror on the wall, and an old leather- bound book on the metal dresser.
*See page 13-C for information on Wasteland slave trading procedures.
Ghost shut the folder, and placed beside him on the cot. I know all about them, he thought. I'm not in the mood to read that before bed.
He stretched out on his bed, and glanced at his chest. A wide slash was cut through his blue tee-shirt. It was the only such tear made; the rest of his shirt and his grey sweatpants were free of damage.
There goes another shirt, he thought. They've gotta make me an asbestos one, or something...
He rubbed into the hole in his shirt. The skin on his chest was rough from a pale-white scar.
They can do all the follow-up exams they want. But something about me isn't right... there's something trying to change me.
He laughed to himself. Not that I haven't changed already. I've experienced some changes that no man could understand. I've felt the pains of a mortal wound... I've smelled the blood pour from my heart... I've watched my enemies deal the final blow upon me.
And I've awakened... with another man's face.
He shuddered. I can't get over that feeling. It's been ages since I watched the burial of Aren Bowes. And I still feel I should be there with him.
A passing glance into the mirror brought him face-to-face with his new image. Ghost was a Terran man; his thin build and sharp facial features attested to that. There had always been a deep respect within him for Terrans, and there were many instances when he wished he truly fit in with the noble race.
But Aren Bowes was not Terran. Even he was not sure where he came from; he had no recollection of his parents or an early home. He was shorter, wider in stance and more threatening than this Ghost was.
Aren Bowes was cursed with countless misfortunes, with pains that only compounded as years passed. But despite this, Aren was proud. He could handle the pain. He was strong, unfaltering; the one who went the extra mile when no one could. Aren was a self-made force to be reckoned with.
But there were some things he could never do on his own.
Aren failed his most important mission. He brought suffering to the people closest to him. A thousand questions lay unanswered in the wake of his death. And to add insult to injury, he now stood as the Terran Ghost, with an undeserved second chance.
The rumors aren't true, he thought. But I will make myself the Ghost. I'll not let this phantom's life go unused. Mine time is expired.I've no right to live for myself now. I'll not let others lay victim as I have. I'll be the one to bring retribution when others can't.
He sighed, and lowered his head to his knees. "But the world's a big place."
~
"Mina, you're a real sweetheart... but you sure get me in a lot of binds..."
Selphie sighed with a little smile at the girl upon the bed. It had taken a bit of effort, but Selphie had managed to lay Mina under the bedsheets. Mina was limp and perfectly still; the blankets rose and fell gently with her breaths. Her face poked out at the tip of the covers, and revealed a light smile on her face.
She always smiles like that, thought Selphie. She's so bright and cheery, always the one to pick me up when I'm down.
Selphie sighed. I used to be like that.
She unzipped her black jumpsuit, and tossed it carelessly onto the cold ground. Things have changed so much. And so much of it's my fault. I can't go anywhere without seeing what my failure has caused. I don't care what Mina says.I can't just wake up tomorrow and say, "I think I'll be happy!"
She pressed her metal-scratched palms upon the surface of the old dresser. I'm not allowed to be happy, she thought, staring at the long red marks that ran up and down her hands. Trabia is ruined...everyone's miserable...there's no hope anymore. I can't be happy, knowing I caused all that...
She raised her eyes, and began to study her own face. It was something she rarely attempted as of late. Her shame prevented her a great number of times from meeting with her mirror. But tonight, for some reason, she felt that she deserved the disgust that watching her own visage always brought.
So this night, she gazed boldly upon the torture of herself. Her face had grown pale and weary from labor in the bleak, dreary Wasteland. Her auburn hair, once cut short and styled with a little curl at the end, was long, faded and dusty. Bruises and scratches covered her naked body. Even her vibrant green eyes seemed to have dulled over time. Her eyelids were swollen purple for want of sleep.
I did this... I did this to everyone... oh Hyne, it's all my fault!
Selphie's puffy eyes grew tight. She pressed her face into her rough palms, and felt her lip tremble as she breathed a submissive cry. Her saline tears ran across her fingers, and stung at the tiny scrapes upon them.
"Hyne..." she exhaled, sobbing as she always did, when Mina was asleep, and she could. "Oh, Hyne... I'm sorry... I know I deserve it..."
She cried to herself long into the night, until she had used all her tears, and then continued without them. But sorrow slowly exhausted her over time. It left her sitting upon the cold floor, shaking, and wrapped in her own arms. She stared silently at the broken light bulb on the ceiling, until her sorrow dragged her head to the floor, where she fell asleep.
~
Insertion will take place at 0735 hours. Insertion team will be dropped at Point A* for immediate target engagement. See target profile (attached) for description of target and acceptable methods of force.
"I'm sick of this," sighed Ghost tiredly, as he read through a folder containing a basic version of the next day's mission briefing.
He lay on the cot of his private quarters, a small but adequate room that was standard for soldiers stationed within the TerraPlexus. It was a simple, white-painted, four-walled space that many soldiers decorated to keep away monotony. It was not uncommon to find letters from family, immodest calendars, or even medals and decorations taped to the boring walls.
But no such things adorned Ghost's quarters. The room more closely resembled a prison cell. The only bits of originality within it were a notepad on the foldable bedstand, a mirror on the wall, and an old leather- bound book on the metal dresser.
*See page 13-C for information on Wasteland slave trading procedures.
Ghost shut the folder, and placed beside him on the cot. I know all about them, he thought. I'm not in the mood to read that before bed.
He stretched out on his bed, and glanced at his chest. A wide slash was cut through his blue tee-shirt. It was the only such tear made; the rest of his shirt and his grey sweatpants were free of damage.
There goes another shirt, he thought. They've gotta make me an asbestos one, or something...
He rubbed into the hole in his shirt. The skin on his chest was rough from a pale-white scar.
They can do all the follow-up exams they want. But something about me isn't right... there's something trying to change me.
He laughed to himself. Not that I haven't changed already. I've experienced some changes that no man could understand. I've felt the pains of a mortal wound... I've smelled the blood pour from my heart... I've watched my enemies deal the final blow upon me.
And I've awakened... with another man's face.
He shuddered. I can't get over that feeling. It's been ages since I watched the burial of Aren Bowes. And I still feel I should be there with him.
A passing glance into the mirror brought him face-to-face with his new image. Ghost was a Terran man; his thin build and sharp facial features attested to that. There had always been a deep respect within him for Terrans, and there were many instances when he wished he truly fit in with the noble race.
But Aren Bowes was not Terran. Even he was not sure where he came from; he had no recollection of his parents or an early home. He was shorter, wider in stance and more threatening than this Ghost was.
Aren Bowes was cursed with countless misfortunes, with pains that only compounded as years passed. But despite this, Aren was proud. He could handle the pain. He was strong, unfaltering; the one who went the extra mile when no one could. Aren was a self-made force to be reckoned with.
But there were some things he could never do on his own.
Aren failed his most important mission. He brought suffering to the people closest to him. A thousand questions lay unanswered in the wake of his death. And to add insult to injury, he now stood as the Terran Ghost, with an undeserved second chance.
The rumors aren't true, he thought. But I will make myself the Ghost. I'll not let this phantom's life go unused. Mine time is expired.I've no right to live for myself now. I'll not let others lay victim as I have. I'll be the one to bring retribution when others can't.
He sighed, and lowered his head to his knees. "But the world's a big place."
~