Looks Like We Have Visitors
I returned to the cold hug of Texas air as I stepped back outside. It whipped against my tattered clothes and pinched my wounds; however there was a new feeling in the air. Not pain. Not Death. Not even Sorrow. It was relief. I actually felt relieved; calm in-fact. If there weren't other matters to take care of, I'd almost take a second to enjoy it. I feel strange just thinking the word "enjoy". Enjoyment was as far away from me as Space, I had forgotten it even existed.
I held my weapon firm and walked back down to the campgrounds where there was a mass collection of prisoners crowded around the camp's podium. We usually do this when the Warden has an announcement of some sort, which by the way is never good. But judging by the commotion of the crowd this was something important to hear. I nudged my way passed the repulsing bodies of other prisoners. Their god-awful stench was enough to make me pass out even with a gas-mask, but I guess that's to be expected from sleeping in dirt and showering in noxious gases.
I found my way to the front of the crowd to see a squad of men atop the platform. They obviously had made short work of the camp faculty and with good reason. The men wore what looked like scavenged armor from various sources including Police, S.W.A.T., and even that of the military. Their weapons were less than top quality but deadly enough to get the job done. Yet, one man stood out of the rest.
The man was obviously built to fight standing at least 6 foot 5" with arms and legs like that of cannons off a battle ship. His face was covered by a hybrid mask of bits and pieces of a gas-mask, an old U.S. Marine helmet, and tactical goggles. The man's torso also consisted of scavenged body armors. Yet, what stood out the most to me was the insignia on his chest. It looked like the American symbol of justice with crossbones beneath it.
I must say I give these walking Power Rangers credit for their creativity, not to mention the weapon; but let's hope they actually have some kind of plan devised. I doubt the corporate people in charge of this place will like to hear that they have just had their camp taken over and had a whole poked in their wallets. I waited to hear the tall man speak, which after a moment of waiting for the crowd to settle, he did.
"Hello fellow Americans, I am acting Ground-Officer Sergeant Pike. On behalf of the Regulators of Liberty, Operation Dusk is in effect. As tribute to your freedom, I encourage all of you willing and able to take up arms and join us in our fight. Our mission is simple: reclaim the state of Texas and eventually this country. You will not be forced to join, but if you refuse, you must leave this facility. It is now our new base of operations. If you do join, your first task will be to help us reclaim the Bilderberg-controlled oil rig a few miles from here. To your left is our quartermaster who will arm you with the basic supplies and weapon of the Regulators. To your right is the gate. You all know what waits for you there. Don't let it hit you in the ass of the way out. That is all."
After hearing his speech, many left the campgrounds in groves. Obviously what many of them didn't realize is that they will most likely die out there alone, between the gangs, raiders, and the rouge soldiers. I, myself, thought it might be fun to shoot more things. I realized my passion of mindless killing. There was no way I'd pass up the chance to cause more mayhem.
It was just too much fun. I waited in line until it was my turn to receive my basic supplies and uniform. It was like getting one of those bags at a party. The quartermaster, after handing me my bag, looked at me with a "what the fuck is that?" face and stepped forward. He was looking at my camp ID tag. 34115. My name.
"Excuse me sir, Im going to have to ask you to remove those tags. No unapproved neckwear."
He reached his hand forward to remove it from my neck. What the hell does he think he is doing? I snatched his arm out of my face and wrenched it down across my body. I held it with a cold, hateful grip as if I was going to crush every bone in his body. He grimaced in pain when I did so.
"Unless you want to lose this hand, I'd suggest you fuck off," I sneered in anger.
The men around me were quick to react. Within at least a couple of seconds, their guns were raised to my head ready to separate it from my body. Great. I pissed them off before I even started. I didn't even get to shoot someone. Oh well, can't say I didn't see it coming. Have at it boys.
"Stand down!" Someone ordered from behind me.
The guns were dropped from my face and I turned to see who had postponed my brains from staining the ground. It was the man from the podium. Sergeant Pike or something like that. Yeah. Let's see what the leader of the Power Rangers has to say.
"I admire your aggressiveness there, son," he said, "I need someone like you in this fight."
The quartermaster had regained control of his hand and looked at his superior in complete shock. "Sir, if I may say, this man is-" he began before he was interrupted.
"This man is a squad leader," said the Sergeant, "get him a suit of armor and an insignia. Then you come see me in my tent."
I was just as stunned as the pussy Quartermaster. I almost smiled under my mask, but my face still burned like a motherfucker. After being given my new uniform, I removed my filthy camp garb and replaced it with the body armor. It felt warm, safe and fucking lethal. I felt like a bullet proof train. As ordered, I approached the tent. There were two men guarding the entrance like little toy soldiers. Pathetic. I proceeded to enter once the two boy-scouts saw my insignia and stepped out of the way.
When I entered, Sergeant Pike was talking to another squad leader. Most likely about the same bullshit he was going to tell me next. As he finished, I looked around the tent. In the center of the room was a small wooden table taken from the warden's office. I noticed it right away because I saw the crack in the side where the bastard slammed my face into the desk. To my left was a tiny army cot where Pike stood and to the right was a map of the points of interest in the surrounding area of the camp. My head turned when I heard the Sergeant speak loud enough for me to hear.
"That's all," he told the other man.
I stepped forward once the other man left. Here we go with the authority crap. I might as well tell him how it's going to be before he finds out the hard way.
"Before you give me the 'I'm your superior crap' let me just tell you this: I have a problem with authority, I kill anything that moves and I'm reaaally in a bad mood right now," I told him.
He chuckled, surprisingly, and began, "That's why I picked you. I need a bad ass motherfucker who can get the job done no questions asked. All I ask of you is, don't kill my men, get the job done, and make one hell of a mess along the way."
I like this guy already. This is my kind of a job and this guy speaks my language. I'd be more than happy to get started as soon as possible. I think these power rangers might just be killers after all. All except for that Quartermaster. I have a feeling me and him are gonna' have a talk again. Don't worry; I won't hurt him until he starts it. God, I hope he starts it.
"Get some sleep tonight; your tent is five down left from here. First thing we need to treat those burns then we'll have you assemble your team tomorrow. Then it's off to your first mission. That's all for now."
"Yes sir," I replied.
I wondered how the hell he knew about my burns first of all. But for the time being, it really wasn't all that important. I started for the exit of the tent. I might just get a good night's sleep tonight. I haven't had one of those in so long. I wonder what it feels like.
All this time I thought death was my only way to escape, but maybe it was never my death that set me free. Maybe it's the death of others that will bring me happiness. As these thoughts rolled through my head, I opened the flap to the tent. I looked out into the dark nighttime sky and sighed a sweet breath of relief…