++++++ I gotta say, I'm having a hell of a good time co-writing this with Stormrunner74.
I hope you enjoy.
I do not own ++++++
Chapter Two
"Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger, Bekka James here, from the RawTruth. Today's podcast is coming from the streets of National City as I'm looking to chat to former Navy SEAL, Commander Luke Morrison. Now in case you don't know, SEAL is an acronym for Sea, Air and Land. Our topic of discussion for today is his former partner, one Lieutenant Commander Grace Lund. Grace Lund was the victim of a so called military exercise gone wrong but this queen blogger feels like there is far more to this story that is being told. So we find ourselves at a bar frequented by construction workers where I've tracked Luke on his cellphone to asks the questions that must be answered. Questions that no one else will ask."
A petite blonde woman, whom could very well be mistaken for a teenage girl, turned her phone around so that the camera was no longer focused on her but a building in front of her. Well-no not a building but a bar.
The bar, in question, was a hole in the wall. An out of the way kind of bar that was frequented by construction workers at the end of their shifts.
Taking a deep breath, Bekka walked into the building behind some other construction workers. Standing there inside the bar, Bekka did nothing more than to stand out in amongst the plethora of construction workers. She was wearing black rimmed glasses, a pair of bright yellow Converse with purple leggings underneath a black skirt that had white splashed on it as well as a sky blue shirt underneath a kind of waistcoat with fishnet fingerless gloves that were holding the phone, her waist length blonde hair was purple from midway down her back.
Piercing blue eyes scanned the bar, ignoring the looks and whispers she was getting from the patrons around the bar. A small sound escaped her mouth that sounded like an expression of triumphant success.
There was a lone figure at the bar sitting away from everyone else. He had short black hair and his face was in desperate need of a shave. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and tan cargo pants. A black leather jacket was slung over the back of his chair. Strangely, he wore a necklace with a wooden cross attached to it. A bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass sat on the counter in front of him. He was focusing so intently on the glass that he was considerably unaware of the little viper standing behind him, willing and utterly ready to strike.
She walked over and sat down beside him, putting her phone away but still recording from the fake glasses that she wore. "Mr Morris, Bekka James here from the RawTruth, I was wondering if you would be able to answer a few questions regarding the death of your colleague Grace Lund?"
And there it was.
His body tensed up the moment the name escaped her. His hand hovered over the top of the glass for just a split second before he swallowed the liquid inside. "Who the hell are you?"
"Bekka James from the RawTruth," she repeated. "I'd like to talk to you about Grace Lund. I'm sure you remember her? You grew up together so I'm sure you do remember her."
"What in gods name happened to your hair?" He looked the odd girl up and down and took another shot of whisky. "Looks like you had an accident with the paint pot at preschool. And you look young enough to attend preschool."
Bekka's face stayed blank as she cleared her throat a little. "Two bullets were fired at point blank range into the base of her skull, and traces of a biological agent were found in her bloodstream, and that adds up to be a training exercise gone wrong, how exactly?" she asked, eyebrow arched in question. "Her autopsy report coincidentally was filed the same time as those of Lieutenants Matt Hansen and Jacob Green."
"Go away, kid."
"Go away like the government tried making this go away?" she scrutinized. "I've Lund's autopsy report analysed by a friend and this does not have all the makings of a exercise gone wrong. What can you tell me about Amir? An expert in biological and chemical terrorism who disappeared around the same time Lund died?"
"Her name was Grace, not Lund. Go away and leave me alone."
"Why? People deserve to know the truth, good or both know she didn't die in a training exercise." Bekka sat back and fixed her glasses. "I know it wasn't a training exercise and so do my viewers."
"All five of them?"
"Try over a million in the US alone," she answered confidently. "But I'll play ball. Tell me about Grace."
"Seth, put this on my tab," Luke said, holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels.
"You going home? Need me to call a cab?" the bartender asked, walking over to him.
"Nope. I'm walking," Luke slurred out, standing up clumsily and putting his jacket on. "Well, I'm going with you." Seth got out from behind the counter. "Okay, listen up you lot. I have errands to run, so Cate is in charge. Anybody who causes problems, they answer to me," Seth yelled to the whole bar. There was a collection of yes's from the group of workers, so Seth helped Luke out of the bar, and started walking home. As they walked out, Bekka started following at a safe distance. The walk to Luke's house was pretty uneventful, except for Luke tripping and falling on his face a few times, until the end. Two guys stepped out of an alley with knifes. One guy, who looked Hispanic, held out a bag.
Bekka hovered in the background, utterly amused at the situation.
"Hey, hombre, money in the bag, now," he said gesturing at the bag with his knife. Luke did nothing of the sort, and instead held up his bottle of whiskey.
"Cheers," he called out, before taking a gigantic hispanic guy got impatient and walked towards Luke, holding his knife up. Immediately Luke pounced, smashing the bottle against the hispanic guy's head, knocking him out cold. Luke snatched up his knife and held it up, the look on his face one of pure rage, contrary to the look of sad drunkenness that had been on him all the way home. The other guy, who was wearing a mask, took one look at Luke and ran.
"That's a damn waste of whiskey," he said, throwing the broken bottle away. Luke then walked inside the building that they were standing in front of, and Seth walked in with him. Bekka then pulled out her phone and took a few snaps, the layout of her newest page already set out.
She suddenly felt a hand reach out and grab her ankle. Bekka screamed as the Hispanic guy pulled himself up using her skirt.
"Give me the wallet chica," he slurred. "Or I'll take it. That and something else."
Bekka raised her eyebrow and proceeded to swiftly kick him in the nuts. There wasn't much in the world that Alanna taught her but how to incapacitate a guy was one of them. Reaching into her purse, Bekka pulled out a small can of mace and sprayed him directly in the eyes. "Stupid asshole," she snapped using her other freehand to take a photo of his face. That was going on the website. Then she turned the camera on her phone around and aimed it at her face.
"Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger, Bekka James here, from the RawTruth. So that was unpleasant. I just got out of a talk with former Navy SEAL Commander Luke Morrison about his former partner. He was very drunk, yet he wouldn't talk to me. Because of that, I don't think he will talk to me sober, either. I think I will have to annoy him to the point that he explodes and gives us information. So, this is important, truth seekers, I am going to need your help. His address is apartment 208, 27181 3rd Avenue. Send him what you want. Our job is to get him to tell us what happened. It's our job to get the truth so that the government knows this is not okay. Goodnight, truth seekers."
Bekka put her phone down. Across the street, Seth was walking back out of the building. Bekka started walking back to her house, formulating a plan on how to get Luke into telling her. Suddenly in the distance, behind her, the Hispanic guy, who seemed to have terrible luck, spoke up.
"Hey, hombre, give me your wallet." Bekka heard a distant thud, and he was silent, for the third time. Bekka walked away, smirking. There were three things Bekka had to do when she got home-well four. Actually, five. Feed the cat, upload the podcast, write her article, find out what drink Luke likes after his morning run in the hopes of buttering him up, and play Halo. Bribes pretty much always worked for her, so she saw no reason why they wouldn't help with Luke.
Alcohol Abuse: Can the Government help our tragic heroes?
Hello fellow truth seekers, this is your queen blogger Bekka James here to talk to you today about our returning soldiers. Today I had the displeasure of meeting with former Navy SEAL, Luke Morrison (click here for podcast).
From what I understand about the former commander's background, he had a fairly average life with average problems. Morrison joined the military right out of high school and swiftly made his way through the ranks. Today I found Luke in a bar, a small hole in the wall that looks way overdue for a health inspection. He was surrounded by men and women all sitting in groups whilst he sat alone-could it be that, whilst yes, he shares a common lifestyle with these men and women, does Luke not have access to the proper VA services available for soldiers?
This year's budget is a staggering $182.3 billion for Veteran's Affairs. This includes $78.7 billion in discretionary resources and $103.6 billion in mandatory funding. Our discretionary budget request represents an increase of $3.6 billion, or 4.9 percent, over last year's budget. The VA's Advance Appropriations request for discretionary Medical Care is $66.4 billion.
During my teenage years I was fond of the First Person Shooter game Halo and it always got to me that despite the sacrifices Spartan 117 made, the UNSC was happy and willinging to throw him to the wolves each and every time.
(Okay not just in my teenage years)
With the above budget, surely we should have bigger and better resources available for our returning heroes? Or are they just expendable assets?
Like the toaster that is no longer functioning properly but can still be of use, the United States government uses its men and women before casting them aside not caring what happens to them afterwards.
Returning soldiers can be subjected to:
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
MST (Military Sexual Trauma)
A further variety of mental health issues
If you know of a soldier who has returned home from serving overseas let them know that it's okay to seek out help.
Until next time, my loyal truthers.
xxx Bekka
Click here for information regarding Luke Morrison
Click here for this year's budget report into Veterans Affairs
Click here for copies of Grace Lunds autopsy report
Click here to link in with my Halo multiplayer (this is just for fun) player ID hummingbird_127