The Fourth Carmine, Ch. 4

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An update!?

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Clayton's Journal, 35th of Brume, 0 A.E.

So, I found my old journal recently, if that wasn't obvious enough by me writing in it. Dad told me that I should start using it again, since it's a good way to make sense of all the crazy BS that's been going on. Felt that I might as well, seeing as there have been some weird things going on recently.

Today is a good example. No, not because of the losing war from Ormordus'(1) ilk. (Granted, that is pretty weird seeing as us COG have been fighting non-stop for who knows how long, we're pretty damn good at it!) Today was strange because Chairman Dalyell announced over the radio that there would be no fireworks celebrating what would have been the new year. Dalyell claimed that "'the new year and its subsequent celebrations would now take place on the 20th of Frost, the day that the Locust emerged from the ground."' He went on to say that all the calendars would still mark the month of Frost as the fourth month of the year, despite the New Year's new start date. The Chairman claimed that this would bring some sense of normalcy to the madness we've fallen in to. Honestly? I think that the stress of the job is finally driving him nutters. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if he wound up in the loony bin.

Despite some issues with money, the family is doing good; Anthony is enjoying school and has been very well-behaved (compared to me at that age, at least). Benjamin has been pouting ever since he learned that there won't be any fireworks tonight. He's been pretty clingy since I came back. I like to put up an annoyed front, but I won't lie about how endearing it is. The newest edition to our family has been rather well-mannered for an infant, although his late-night crying has been really frustrating. But hey, that's kids for ya.

I haven't received any news of my friends from Belfaun, whether any of them got out or not. Given how things have been going, I doubt that I will ever hear from them again. To be fair, it's not like they would know where to find me anyway…

Anyway, I should probably stop writing before the meds kick in. My painkillers tend to make me a little loopy…

Clayton, out.

t(-.-t)

Clayton's Journal, 13th of Ice, 1 A.E.

Things are bad. Things are really, really bad. Chairman Prescott announced over radio today that in five days, the Hammer of Dawn would be deployed in territory held by the Locust, maybe even the non-Locust infested lands that might become useful to them later. The Locust are nearly everywhere outside of the thrice-damned Jacinto Plateau! Are they going to obliterate everything?! There are people out there! Good, honest people! How many will die to protect the few? Surely the COG has some evacuation plans for these people, right? Surely they're going to try, right? They've got to!

Anthony and Benjamin don't understand what's going on, nor why all the adults are so ashen. Momma took them upstairs with her and Naruto; I can hear her trying to lead them through prayers, though they don't know the words, nor do I think they know why they're saying them. I'm not sure who they're praying to anymore. Uncle Rudrick and Cousin Fredo left the house immediately after the announcement, and I haven't seen either of them since then.

I can only hope that things turn out okay.

Clayton out.

t(-,-t)

Clayton's Journal, 1st of Thaw, 1 A.E.

Cousin Fredo returned to Ilima today after being missing these passed two weeks; half-starved with deadened eyes, covered in soot and smelling as if he hadn't bathed in days. I have never seen a look of such relief, anger, and worry as the one Uncle Rudrick held when reuniting with his son. Fredo ate out half the refrigerator before Momma forced him into the bath. When he got out, Momma and Rudrick asked him a slew of questions about his whereabouts. In a shaky voice, he told us. I wish he hadn't.

Apparently, after the announcement from the new Chairman aired, he had immediately grabbed his journalism supplies and booked it to The Iliman Chronical, Fredo's place of work, to borrow one of their news vans. Whether he got permission to use it or not, he didn't say. He took the vehicle to one of the supposed 'safe-zones' where refugees would supposedly go from the planned Hammer kill-zones. There, he claimed to have interviewed a thousand people. Pretty sure that he was lying, but I wasn't there, I don't know.

Fredo then told us about a decision that I'm sure will scar him for the rest of his days. He told us that on the day the Hammer strikes were to come down, he took his possibly-stolen van to Pyri, a city on the border of one of the supposed kill-zones, much to the dismay of his father. In a weary voice, Fredo said that it was the opportunity of a lifetime; no one had seen a Hammer of Dawn strike first-hand, let alone the aftermath of one. He wanted to be the first ever to record it.

He watched as the toxic sky-fire of the Hammer rain destruction upon the city. With grievous amazement, he watched as the few tall building Pyri had melted into acrid sludge; felt the indescribable heat scald his body. He watched as the homes of many COG citizens shattered and burned. There were no screams, only the sound of melting city. In the aftermath, Fredo had entered the city, searching through the wreckage. He described bodies encased in searing-hot ash, forever a reminder of what happened on that horrific day.

Those were his words, not mine. I'm glad that none of my brothers were present or conscious for this. Naruto's still a baby and Benjamin is young enough to forget, but Anthony knows things and remembers them well. Luckily, one of Anthony's neighborhood friends, Corbin…something(?), had invited him and Benjamin to his older sister's fourteenth birthday party. Dad took my brothers there, missing Fredo's return and his story by an hour or three. Dad gave me the option of going as well, but I felt that I would be intruding. I doubt that I would know anyone there anyway.

The four of them returned home about a half-hour before I started writing this entry. Naruto was unsurprisingly sound asleep with Benjamin and Anthony not far behind. Must've been a fun party, given the smiles on all of their faces when they came up the stairs. I'll ask them about it later.

It's getting late, but I feel the need to at least mention a few things. I don't need to take my pain medication anymore. Although my rehab has just started, I'm making pretty good progress. I don't know if I have the heart to return to the military after what happened… after what the COG did… I still have a few years of my service period left, but is it moral to fight for a government that was willing to take such extreme action against their own citizens?

Clayton out.

p.s.: Fredo apparently had to walk all the way from Pyri to Ilima. The trek itself is a long way by foot. I don't blame him for taking so long.

Clayton out. (again)

t(-.-t)

Clayton's Journal, 5th of Rise, 1 A.E.

Ilima is pretty crowded nowadays, what with all the refugees. There isn't a whole lot of food around right now, and a lot of people are in a bad place. We're doing fine for the most part, although Fredo hasn't been eating all that well. I don't blame him, I doubt that I could walk away from what he saw and still have an appetite. Dad says that the price of milk, fruit, veggies, meat… everything, really, as gone up quite a bit. We never needed a food budget back in Belfaun, so I'm guessing that that's one of the reasons why we're blowing through money so quickly.

The COG got a lot of flak from what's left of its population. Who would've thought that melting most of the known world in a single night would cause a PR nightmare? The weather has been pretty cold since then. Scientists on the radio have been telling us that it's because of ash clogging out the sun light or something like that. We don't know how many people where killed by the Hammer strikes, but I can only pray that they killed more Locust than humans.

I'd like to end this on a good note, not that there are many of those worth mentioning nowadays. Rehab is going well and I'm regaining muscle mass rather well. It's still pretty weird when I compare my arms though. Anthony says that I look ridiculous, the little brat.

Ugh, I'm too tired to write more. I was on baby-duty last night, and Naruto did not take it easy on me. I swear, no matter how many times I have to do it, it never easier and less gross.

-Clayton out.

t(-.-t)

Clayton's Journal, 4th of Bloom, 1 A.E.

Alright, good news, bad news, good news, and worse news. Good news: Momma and Dad both have jobs again. Dad got a job as a teacher's aid at the local middle school. Yeah, it doesn't pay very well, but it's a job that he can physically do. Momma got her job as a COG dispatch officer back. She tells me that she's pretty good at it and that it's a well-paying job, so at least now we aren't losing money like a stuck pig loses blood. Bad news: Both Momma and I work for a government who willingly uses weapons of mass destruction on themselves. Yay. Good new again: my arm is almost healed enough to back into active duty if need be. Worse news: yeah, the need be.

Turns out that the Hammer strikes didn't win us the war like Chairman Prescott, and everyone else, had hoped. Given the lack of attacks and Emergence Holes springing up everywhere up until a few days ago, it's possible that the Hammer strikes did put a sizable dent into the Locust forces. The scorched earth thing the government did might have slowed them down too. In any case, the Grub asshats are back and killing whatever they can.

War sucks,

Clayton out.

t(-.-t)

Clayton's Journal, 7th of Bloom, 1 A.E.

Once again, good/annoying news and bad news.

The better news first. While exploring the ground floor of our apartment, Anthony found a piano. You might ask, "Clayton, how the hell does no one not notice a freakin' piano in your home?!" Well, I'm not the most observant person, alright? Plus, all of us adults are too busy to be messing around in areas we aren't usually in. I'm honestly not sure what Uncle Rudrick has been doing with his spare time these days. Drinking, maybe? He doesn't really leave his office too much anymore. Cousin Fredo has thrown himself into his work and is rarely home. He's been trying to avoid covering the war as best he can, which has made finding easy work difficult. Momma and Dad are too busy with my siblings and their own jobs to really explore the house, and I've been busy with physical therapy to do any real exploring.

Yeah, so Anthony found a piano. The annoying part is that he won't. Stop. Playing it. If the damn thing wasn't out of tune and if Anthony actually knew what he was doing, it would probably be bearable. No one in this family enjoys waking up to keys beings hammered and shrieking laughter of a six-year-old at 0400. Why can't my brothers be asleep at a reasonable time? Naruto has been the only one of them who's been sleeping through the night consistently in the past week, I swear! And he's a literal baby! The irony is annoying.

Okay, to the bad news. My last day of physical therapy is in two days. In three, I will be getting shipped off to the front lines. They'll be providing me with a replacement to my old helmet, this one with a bit more padding. Hopefully this'll prevent another concussion. Those things fucking suck!

I might seem a bit… what's the word? Cavalier? Yeah, that. I might seem like I'm not taking this seriously, but I am nearly sick with worry right now. I don't know how long I will be away from my family. I don't know what I'll see. I don't know what I'll end up doing. I don't know whether I'll be coming back at all. All of this just… well, there really isn't anything I can do about it anyway.

Clayton out.

t(-.-t)

In the early hours on the 10th of Bloom, Clayton Carmine found himself sitting alongside 30-some other Gears on their soon-to-be crowded transport with his rucksack on his lap and new helmet in his hands. The armored men and women around him looked green, both in combat experience and with worry. Most of them were quiet, although there was a pair near the front of the bus who spoke openly and excitedly about finally seeing combat. Clayton ignored them the best he could.

Their transport was not military grade. It was a dark gray school bus repurposed into an armored transport. Inch-thick steel plates were welded onto the sides and a clear, hard plastic had been applied to each window. While he sincerely doubted their ability to stop a Hammerburst round, Clayton was glad he could still enjoy the view when they eventually got moving.

Outside stood the families and friends of the Gears around him as well as his own. His momma stood stone-faced at the front of the crowd, one hand taken by the drowsy Benjamin and his fireworks blankie. In the other hand, his momma held young Naruto, wide awake despite the early hour. His father stood stagnant next to them with the teary-eyed Anthony holding their father's only real hand. All their eyes remained locked on Clayton. There had been no goodbyes between them. There were never 'goodbyes' between them. It was always 'see you later', or 'see you soon', or any of the other million ways to say that you're leaving. 'Goodbye' implied that they would never see each other again, and Clayton would try his best to make sure that he would come back, that he would always come back. It was a promise of a lifetime, and Carmines don't break their promises.

Clayton waved to his family as the last of the Gears found their way onto the bus and into the last remaining seats. Anthony was the only one to properly wave back. Benjamin had apparently fallen asleep standing up. Naruto was swaddled and couldn't move his arms even if he had somehow figured out what the action meant, and his parents had their arms too occupied for a proper wave; they tried anyway.

As their transport lurched forward, Clayton was blindsided by a sudden ironic revelation. Clayton began to chuckle softly, heard only by himself and the pale-skinned, fair-haired Gear who had sat down next to him moments before the engine started.

"What's so funny?" the Gear asked.

Clayton smiled and turned to his seat partner. "Heh, nothing. It's just funny. It's the first time I've ever been on a school bus, and it's heading towards war." Clayton looked down at the helmet in his hands. "Kinda ironic, isn't it?"

"I s'pose so. Homeschooled?"

Clayton shook his head. "Naw, I lived pretty close to my schools growing up. Only a couple miles away, so I walked."

The Gear stared with what Clayton would imagine as a shocked expression, (kinda hard to see it with a helmet in the way, hence the imagining), as Clayton's chuckles quieted down.

"Anyways, name's Carmine. Pleasure to meet you!" Clayton extended his right hand.

"Likewise," the Gear responded, grasping Clayton's hand with his own, giving it a firm shake. "Name's Montz, Robin Montz."

The first hour of the trip held little but idle and polite conversation. In the second, the Sergeant at the front of the bus got on the intercom. The Sergeant, a short, gruff woman in her mid fourties, spoke out in an even gruffer voice.

"Alright youngins! Listen up 'cause I'll only be saying this once! In three hours, we will reach our destination! There, you will all depart to your assigned rally point to meet up with your new squads. I will be distributing all the information you'll need in after this!" The Sergeant paused, looking out over the mostly green faces before her before continuing. "I wont lie to you here, the zone we're going to has been hit several times in the past two days. As chances have it, you will all see combat sooner rather than later. If we end up dropping hot… well, lets just hope this bucket of bolts holds up!"

"Well, that's reassuring," Montz whispered over the worried murmuring of the other Gears.

"Alright, we'll go in alphabetical order!" The Sergeant said, exchanging the intercom for a stack of sealed manila folders. Projecting her voice, she continued. "When I call your name, get your come and get your orders."

Pulling the first folder from the stack, the Sergeant announced, "Carmine, Clayton!"

Helmet in hand, Clayton quickly maneuvered his way to the front and back, wondering if it was merely luck, coincidence, or convenience that there was no one with an 'A' or 'B' last name on the bus with him. He quickly tore open the sealed manila folder after retaking his seat. Ignoring the standard information, (name, rank, ID number, etc.), Clayton got right into the meat of things; a map of the city, four photographs of his team along with their names and ranks, and where they were meeting.

'Thames, huh? Never heard of it…' Clayton thought to himself. It was apparently a smallish town near the Kashkuri border. It had some agriculture, but not enough to make it a major target. Not that the Locust cared, so it seemed. He was to meet his team near the mayor's office, which has been partially repurposed for military purposes.

The first photograph depicted a man in his early thirties. Dark gray buzzcut, thin but wiry build, taller than Clayton by a good five inches. The picture showed hazel eyes glaring hard at the camera, lips drawn in a thin scowl. A small goatee and some acne scars on his left cheek fleshed out the photo. The name near the top read 'Private Rood, CQCS.'

The second photograph was of their squad leader; one 'Corporal Shaun Baes'. It depicted a small man in their early thirties much like the previous Gear. However, his expression was far more relaxed than Rood's. An easy-going toothy smile, shaggy black hair, warm black eyes, and a round, smooth face. He was of average height and weight, from what Clayton could tell.

The third photo showed a… less than pretty face. While the face was androgynous, their facial expression and body language spoke of barely stifled, long-term rage. A bright red scar ran from the center of their forehead to the tip of their razor-sharp chin in a near straight line. Where hair would have been, instead were poorly inked color tattoos. Clayton couldn't think of any respectable tattoo parlor that would allow an artist with that level of skill to work there. The name to the face was 'Private Ivica Wvazls, Scout'.

The last photo was of a Kashkuri woman around his age. She had shoulder length black hair, playful dark eyes, and a cocky smirk. She stood partially facing the camera in a stand-offish manner with a few Bolo grenades over thin shoulders. Squinting, Clayton could see a dark green bandana hidden underneath her hair. The name read 'Private Samantha Byrne, Demolition'.

As he placed the photographs back in the folder, Clayton could only hope that this squad would fair better than his previous one.

Dossier: Religions of the COG, part 2: Archism.

Archism is a religion that originated in Kashkur during the Silver Age of Sera approximately 700 years before E-Day. A rather popular religion in its time, the Archist faith has since declined immensely due to various reasons and is rarely practiced outside of rural communities in eastern Tyrus and Silver Age cities in south-central Kashkur. The religious texts, those that still exist, are creatively known as "The Archives". Momma Carmine and her sons follow this faith.

Silver is a highly important material in Archism, and all artifacts, books, etc., all contain pure silver. Because of this, many Archist artifacts were destroyed or lost during times of economic troubles caused by war.

There are several different sects of this faith, but the differences between the sects are primarily about death and geists/spirits. There is no God in the Archist faith. Instead, there are four types of beings whom are worshiped or warned against: Angels, Daemons, Geists/Spirits, and Endra.

While not necessarily good or evil, Angles generally act as benefactors to humanity. Early in the Archives, Angels most often find fought against the Daemons. In later texts however, their main prerogative is to protect the faithful from each other and the mysterious Endra. The angels are separated into five groups, each led by an Archangel, who are the epitome of the groups' beliefs. The Archangels are more powerful, intelligent, etc., than the angels in their flight. These Archangels are all in council with each other, debating the best ways to help humanity. The Archangels still worshiped or followed in modern times are Ilone, Sigran, Rohanna, Anya, and Thalia. These Archangels epitomize Peace, Truth, Wrath and Justice, Hope, and Protection respectively. Ilone is the only truly 'Good' Archangel.

The Daemons represent the less virtuous aspects of humanity. They are generally enemies of the angels, but they are not necessarily bad nor good. Like the angels, the daemons are separated into different groups, each led by an Archdaemon. There are only three Archdaemons listed in what is left of the Archives; Emran, Archdaemon of Perfection, Belgrax, Archdaemon of Avarice, and (1)Ormordus, Archdaemon of Slaughter. Ormordus is considered to be the only truly 'Evil' Archdaemon.

Much like everyone else, Angels and Daemons are fallible, and it is not uncommon for them to fall from grace. However, it is exceedingly rare that any of the 'Arches' to do so. As of Archist canon, only three Archangels have ever fallen. Raxat, formerly the Archangel of Knowledge, Melsoran, the former Archangel of Justice, and Damia, formerly the Archangel of All Love. The tales of these three former Archangels serve as cautionary tales for all involved in the Archist faith, Daemons and Angels included.

Geists/Spirits are the consciousness of the deceased given form. Here lies most of the controversy amidst the different sects of Archism: why do they exist, what do they do, and where do they go? Some believe that the consciousnesses follow the flights of Angels and Daemons that most fit their lives. Others believe that the Geists/Spirits do not leave the mortal plane at all, lingering near family, friends, or even enemies. Others believe that these Geists/Spirits move onwards to the newly living in something akin to reincarnation. In any case, there is no physical infighting between the different Archist sects. Much like the Archangel Council, they prefer to spend their time in 'friendly' debates.

The Endra are a mystery to the Archists. They are believed to be agents of the prophesized apocalypse. What little that is known about them can be found in the 'Tale of Raxat', the final Tale in the Archives.

Author's Notes

Hello everyone! Guess who isn't dead! That's right, it's me!

So, I would like to say that the reason that this update took so long is because I've been slaving over it day in and day out, trying to make everything perfect for my own sake and your reading pleasure. Unfortunately, that is not the case...

For two months, I felt like I was bashing my skull against a metal wall trying to push through the first 2,000 words. The journal time-skip thing I was doing was just getting no where. Soon enough, I lost interest in this fic completely. I changed fandoms, and quickly found myself writing three separate fanfictions at the same time. Needless to say, they haven't gotten beyond scribbles on notepads (except for one, but that's neither here nor there). The Fourth Carmine was forgotten...

Until recently.

At this point, I would like to give a shoutout to , who reminded me that, A) that this fic existed, and B) people still read it, are still interested in it, and have been waiting for a LONG time for an update. Thanks to them, I got off my ass and continued writing this, busting head-first through my writers block and here we are.

By next chapter, Naruto will start to actually do stuff. I can't tell you what he'll be doing yet, but there will be shenanigans!

I would also like to point out that I had to re-write these author's notes twice. Always save your work!

I will do my best to update again soon, especially now that I've got wind in my sails again.

Also, do you think that the journal thing worked? Should I do it again? (I shouldn't get a block as bad as the last one this time if so!)