A/N: This fic aint dead, I just needed some time writing another fics and college was killing me. Forgive me for the huge delay plus I needed to do a big research party for Marines traditions, training, look for interviews and view dozens of youtube videos of Marines training, it was hard but in the end it was surely worth it. Most of the dialogue in the training parts comes from real treatment of recruits and I actually wrote the screams thrown to them. If you people know some war movies, then you're gonna recognize some dialogue from some of them.
-Disclaimer: Invader Zim and their characters belong to Nickelodeon and Jhonen Vasquez, and I gain non profit out of writing this story.
Misanthrope
Chapter 7
The Human Machines
"You are here because your indisputable attitude of serving your country brings you here. Our country was attacked by terrorist on september 11th of 2001 at 8:46 AM. You are here to return the favor, many of us foresee a war and this is what we have in our hands. Now at this date…3 of october of 2002 your country needs you more than anything. You will enter here as common people but you will left here as United States Marine Corps members, you will be Marines serving your country, you will bleed, you will cry, and you will thank to Jesus the day you enlisted as a Marine. From this day forward you will know the meaning of sacrifice, the meaning of courage…the meaning of a true American. You should be proud, it's a great honor to serve as the best of the best of the army, hold that feeling in your hearts ladies and gentleman. For this will be the most difficult think you will do in your life. To turn you into marines you'll need to turn you into the best of the best, a killing machine. This isn't called the toughest training in the world for nothing…"
"From now on, the only things you'll know…its country and corps. Semper Fidelis for you recruits, it means 'Always Faithful', and it's a phrase that you will experience the first meaning of it…I wish you the best of lucks"
The captain made a salute to the American flag dancing in the air, not too far from there. "Semper Fi, people…carry on."
"I'll leave them now to you sergeant; I'll admit I've taken my last twenty three years as a United States Marines somewhat for granted. I see now more than ever that becoming a Marine goes well beyond a paltry twelve week recruit training cycle, follow-on occupational schooling, and even the first enlistment" He whispered to the instructor.
The drill instructor nodded; the captain patted his shoulder, starting to walk away.
The drill instructor was a tall Caucasian man, in his mid thirties and well built. His face contorted into fury, like his skull just peeled off his skin.
"We have two missions in the Marine Corps, to win battles and make Marines. I am the drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Kohler. For you I am your fucking god, your momma and papa all at once. Before you are a marine you have to be here with me, in the shit. Welcome to hell boys and girls, the receiving phase".
"Now please give me your goddamn attention!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, making some of the recruits very nervous of what was about to come. Dib eyed Lissa that was besides him, very nervously.
"Please put your belongings in your shoulders and step to the line behind me" The drill instructor said as calmly as he could, like giving peaceful words were like a knot in his throat. "Stand in those yellow markets footprints" All people started to rush to stand in the markings, an overweight guy stood were Dib was going to be besides Lissa. He cursed in annoyance now observing the drill instructor walking towards them with a face straight from hell. The calm demeanor confusing all of them; face contorted into a bloody and savage grin of satisfaction.
"These are the yellow footprints. These footprints are spread at 45 degrees, the proper foot placement for the position of attention. 'POA' for the shit heads that don't know the freaking ABC" Some laughed at the last part, only to shut up immediately; the face of the sergeant twisted in fury, the veins throbbing under the skin.
"It's at any day that you'll stand before me and any other. You will sleeping that way, you will be eating in that way, you'll brush your teeth in the same way. You'll fuck in that way at ANYTIME WITH 45 DEGREES ON YOUR FEET!!! Not 180° soldiers, its every fucking time 45 degrees nothing more and nothing less. Now please follow me".
In the one hundred and fifty five people that arrived today, nobody knew what to say, what to do. Never in their lives had somebody just screamed every single bad word they knew for no apparent reason. Dib was more than confused; Gaz had gotten the sort of good idea to bring a movie on DVD called Full Metal Jacket to see what would they face. And oh boy, how right this movie was, he just hoped R. Lee Ermey wouldn't suddenly appear and kick the ass of the sergeant and be hell this time around. He was scared and nervous, he at least thought so. What he didn't know it's that the same Parris Island was the same of the movie, the same one used to train and give hell and back…it was a fact he will learn first hand.
A few senior marines took it from here, to the relief of the group. They followed them into a building near the training grounds. Unfortunately for them, the drill instructor was hot on their heels.
"Now I want you to left all your stuff here. Your cellphones, your ipods. your clothes, your toothbrush and anything that you brought here. From now one everything will be supplemented by the Marine Corps; if you need a condom goddamn it we have the best condoms of the WORLD! Marines certified and all!" The discarded items on the table were picked up by personnel, enclosed in a box with a name on it, closed and stored.
Dib was careful enough to put the skull necklace over his neck before a woman in uniform snatched his backpack.
Lissa huffed. "Really annoying Dib"
He shrugged giving the last item of his stuff. "Maybe the next part its better, right?"
"Now please follow me maggots" Nobody did anything…
"Move it!" That sends them in the right direction.
Hair clippers passed ripping through hair, beards. Shavings like a cruel pass of a blade across skin, hair fell. Faces with angry glares like jawless skulls. The hum of the machines the only sound that was heard; twisting hands under the sheath with finger nails clipping against each other.
Dib touched his chin; it felt weird so he put away his hand. He cracked his neck, feet touching the remains of his dyed beard.
"Shit" He muttered.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Recruits were lined besides each other, columns of 50, lines of 4. The shiny new BDU's (Battle Dress Uniform) replacing clothes, field caps under bald heads. Females with buns instead of jarheads. Hands trembling, feet clacking against each other, the dirty yellow footprints under their shining combat boots. Black reflecting nervous glares between person and person.
The instructor took air, a very long drag…
And shout!
"The words 'I' and 'we' and 'they' are no longer in your vocabulary. It's now 'this recruit' and 'these recruits' and 'those recruits.' Third person speech and third person only. Everyone else will be referred to by full title and rank. For example, I am drill instructor Gunnery Sergeant Kohler. Not 'you.' You' sounds like 'ewe' and that's a female sheep. You won't make that mistake twice".
"You will be at the position of attention whenever you speak to a drill instructor. The position of attention is the basic military position. This indicates that you are alert and ready for instructions. Bring your left heel against the right. Turn you feet out equally to form an angle of 45 degrees. Keep you heels on the same line and touching. Your legs will be straight but not stiff at the knees. Keep your hips and shoulders level and your chest lifted. Your arms will hang naturally, thumbs along the trouser seams, palms facing inward toward your legs, and fingers joined in their natural curl. Keep your head and body erect. Look straight ahead. Keep your mouth closed and your chin pulled in slightly. Stand still and do not talk".
"And I do mean stand still. Don't eyeball the area. Don't wiggle your fingers. Don't play with your uniform. Don't scratch your face. Don't brush the sand flea off you ear. Do not fucking move".
"Your bed is now called a rack. The bathroom is now the head. The floor is now the deck. The wall is now the bulkhead. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are now morning chow, noon chow, and evening chow. Ask a drill instructor once if 'I can use the bathroom before dinner' and see what happens".
"'Aye sir', 'Yes sir' and 'No sir' will be your only responses unless more is demanded".
"What's that? You didn't say anything. Say aye sir goddamn it!!!
Like answering machines, they screamed.
"AYE SIR!"
"When a drill instructor says something, you say something. And you will say it with volume and intensity. When in doubt, scream "aye sir!" as loud as you can".
"Everything you say and do will be loud and intense. When you scream, there will be spit flying out of your mouth and veins bulging out of your neck. If you want to give the drill instructor a kiss, simply talk soft and sweet and he'll hook you up".
"You will render the proper greeting of the day whenever you're near a drill instructor. A proper greeting is 'Good morning- afternoon- evening- sir!' As a general rule of thumb, if you can see him, you should scream. I don't care if he's low crawling across the parade deck in his underwear. Just do it".
"Stop damn moving around! NOW SCREAM AYE SIR!!!"
"AYE SIR!"
"Run everywhere you go. Move with a sense of purpose, like the mission you're about to accomplish is the most important thing in your life. I don't care if you're restocking shit paper. That shit paper will get one hundred percent of your attention and energy and will be the most squared away shit paper in the company".
"Volunteer for everything. When the drill instructor says he needs recruits, your ass will be flying through the air screaming 'This recruit sir!' at the top of your lungs. Volunteering will get you in good with the drill instructors, so when a real shitty job comes along they probably won't pick you. But then again, they probably will, just because they know you can get the job done without screwing it up".
"When I say something you say something! Open your disgusting mouth! Say, AYE SIR!!"
"AYE SIR!"
"You will not offer excuses for anything. If you break your leg halfway through the obstacle course, don't point at the wound and whine when the drill instructor calls you a pussy and screams at you to finish. Just spring to your feet, ignore the blinding pain and jagged edges of ruined flesh, and pray the Corpsman stops things before a bone fragment punctures your femoral artery and you bleed out like a Christmas dinner hog".
"So we've got a volume problem, huh? We don't wanna scream? Open your fat face! SCREAM FOR ME PIECES OF EXCREMENT! AYE SIR!!!"
"AYE SIR!"
"Hoooly shit, that broke an ear"
"Regardless of your position in formation, the squad bay, or on the PT (Physical training) field, you are being watched by the drill instructor. There is nothing you can get away with that hasn't already been tried by thousands of recruits before you. If you're on the opposite side of formation and decide to dig in your filthy face, you—"
The sergeant broke into running like a wolf pack leader that could sniff fear; and fear it's what he sniffed to a simple guy that scratched his nose. A hard poke on his chest like a pounding to match his heart rating, it's what he received.
"I said stop goddamn moving! I just finished saying you're always being watched and you wanna scratch? Well, you ain't done! Keep scratching! Make it feel good! You're going to be caught. You're not sneaky, and the drill instructor will slay you at his earliest convenience if you try some dumb bullshit. Accept the following as fact and recruit training will be that much easier…"
"Your girlfriend is cheating on you. Probably with your 'best friend' who you told to 'look after her' while you were gone". Dib and Lissa smiled at this.
"No one actually cares you're in boot camp. While you sweat, strain, train, and tremble through weeks of rigorous recruit hell, they're shopping, going to movies, getting laid and drinking beer whenever the hell they want. Because they can".
"You will experience the entire spectrum of human emotion, often in as short a time as a two hour combat endurance course, for example. These emotions include, but are not limited to, debilitating hopelessness, mind numbing apathy, or the intense desire to end your own life while sand encrusted snot strings cling stubbornly to your cheeks as you scream for water, ice cold delicious water, and reach out desperately for the nearest drill instructor who is gulping greedily from his Camelback drinking tube, to please-please help me for the love of God I can't drag him any further and he kicks stinging, gritty sand in your face because it's the first time since training day one you've opened your dirty man-pleaser and screamed".
"You will never be good enough to be in my beloved Corps. But that doesn't mean stop trying, pigs".
"Don't take anything personal. When the drill instructor calls you a weak, nasty piece of shit who has no business in Marine Corps recruit training, shrug it off, strive to be better and carry on smartly. Take no offense when the drill instructor kindly enquires about your family, then promptly and with intense conviction states his tag team plans for your mother and sister, but only after he beats your dad's sorry ass and kicks your little brother in the nuts. But if you find the steely gaze of a drill instructor upon you, with his cold, calculating eyes, always watching, always judging, sizing you up for the next slaughter, take heed. You see, he truly, deeply, and completely hates you with every fiber of his being because you've taken him far, far away from the Marines he loves, the Marines he's trained and fought alongside. You've replaced them, instead, with your eighteen years of attitude, immaturity, disrespect, lawlessness, jackassery, and undisciplined wa—"
"And you're still fucking moving around, you disgusting, brainless bitches!!!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
The barracks…four days after Receiving Phase.
Sixty four people, ten meters wide, forty meters long. Recruits formed in two lines appositive of each other, racks like beds across the rooms with foot lockers beneath them. Nervous glances between person and person. This was the first time Dib and Lissa stood separated from each other. The barracks were gender separated, like two different worlds; the world of the military. But training would be together, regardless of genres so it wasn't a total loss. Dib shifted his feet, the door exploded from impact making him jump. He wasn't the only one. The sixty four people looked at the new comers. A senior Drill Instructor, this one with a more polished and armed with a heavy green uniform. Metal shining showing a high rank insignia, sparkly green coat and black shoes so shiny that you could put them as your mirror.
Even if the warn up of the initial strength test didn't kill Dib, this would the trick most likely. Drill Instructors were a pain in the ass, like if they were raised only to scream and harass recruits. As the day of the Black Friday recruits could actually shit themselves from this day forward. This is where the full force of the instructors would befall over their heads, their despising words. That Sergeant Kohler was damn right about what was coming to them; harassing them, proving them with their eyes, almost to squeeze their skull until their brains slide through their noses with a wet pop.
Dib looked behind his rack where the manual of uniform and conduct was so recklessly thrown until it was facing the wall.
"Attention!" Screamed one instructor.
Hands smacked against flesh, chins held high, with feet together leaving the tarsus bone under heavy pressure.
Here we come again, it was the only rational thought invading his mind. Or was now their minds? He was not alone, even in the dark corners of his brain, a shadow loomed his own very thoughts, proving them with his tongue, touching them, playing with them. It was Tot…
Why he was here again? What is he after? He was silent he could tell; only the empty words of the senior drill instructor was the thing to broke the silence. He found himself committing to a memory to not be punished for his act of disobedience.
He heard a silent chuckle. Ah! Not so alone…
"A penny for your thoughts Dib…oh wait?"Another unfaultable answer from the passenger in his mind. Why he returned? A question that Lissa asked to him in chow time returned to him.
"What now? Now that we are here, is not too late to back up…Nobody will think less of you. Do you think we can still make time for us?"
He didn't remember an answer.
The senior drill instructor explained motives, motivations…so wrongly wonderful coming from a man that claims himself to be a power to not fucked up with. Every mistake from any member of the platoon would result in a collective punishment for the whole barrack.
Words repeating over his head, with phrases from Tot was frozen to his memory, like a fresh baked pie; it was not a good comparison, but at this kind of times…
"Now, HIT THE FUCKING RACKS!! And pray the Creed MAGGOTS!!!"
Every single boy threw themselves to their beds, in the case of Dib, he jumped to the high bunk bed; unloaded M16A2 at hand.
Voices flown at unison.
"This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than any enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will...."
…everything was a choice.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So we can all agree that the field testing is complete?"
A voice so sinister that broke an infinite silence of a veil of darkness. Murmurs of hundreds of voices swirled across the infinite blackness of an unknown place of unknown characteristics. A simple clap of a hand silenced them all as the clank of a light was thrown into the room illuminating the very center of it. Two sets of eyes dancing in the darkness of the room, one glinting with cold eyes while the other looked so innocent and full of life. The shadow came forward, intertwining his gloved fingers across his face. The light made out the outlines of his body, encased in expensive clothes and a black fedora over his head. A soft beard under his chin and several wrinkles, with full cold blooded blue eyes sheathed with a rim of black. But still an old man still retaining his young features.
His companion a lovely girl dressed in a fancy white skirt that went below her knees of her long slender legs, combat boots and a light long sleeve black stripes shirt. Beautiful and girlish face with matching light blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. A warm smile was across her face as she played vacantly with a strap of hair. Skin so soft but her hands, her beautiful and slender hands were covered in black stitches slapping skins against skin. Fingers engraved with sutures, and if you looked carefully; beneath the sleeves of her arms, it was engraved a tattoo covered with stitches like layers across the pale skin; of some sort that ended at the palm of her hand in a very intrigue design resembling roots like the veins of life.
"I concur with that statement" A small silvery light was thrown across the owned of the voice, shadowing his face but contorting the old wrinkles and lines of his ancient face. Downed eyes like a serpent, white mustache. His fingers ran across each, separating elderly skin before intertwined together, caressing each digit with other. The ancient man cleared his throat, following with a raspy and loud cough.
The shadows of his face tilted to the other said. "Both pair of genes evolving, th-that's a good thing. We must keep applying pressure; our sketches have proven useful across the years. The last project wasn't a total loss; the regeneration process…was a failure. But I still don't know why do you keep her close my lord? She's incomplete, a malfunctioning animal that should be killed. She taint our work with failure, she has no use for u?"
"Let's get back to the task at hand" Answered back the voice, with a suave ring to it; annoyed tone behind words.
Televisions enclosed around the room with so many different faces of all types spreaded across the room; so abnormal observing faces from across the world joined for so ambitious project, ties that bind them far more than any human being interested in the well being of the earth and their inhabitants…black people, with an air of importance. Woman's and men's alike dressed in expensive clothing; some with laboratory coats some not; still their faces remained in the shadows, outlines defining eyes. A current screen more bigger than the others stood motionless, the little light that was there illuminating his rounded glasses and a heavy white laboratory coat, trapping the half of his face beneath it like a oversized turtle neck.
A silhouette loomed over the new voice, backing off a few steps to lay across his body with downhill eyes and enraged trembling lips. The shadow laid a hand in the shoulder of the gloomy shadow. Cricking teeths and hands bailed into fists, with the firm intention of ripping off his head with her bare and slender hands. She sneered and made a motion to stand up; but the man sitting in the chair raised his right hand while the other he caressed her head. The fiery child calmed but still a shadow of deadly intentions remained in her face.
"Regardless of the results…we already got what we wanted. No more tests are to be conducted ladies and gentlemen…"
"Not full grown, genes can't work like that" Interrupted a female voice. "Time, sacrifice. We have expended hundreds of millions for two subjects that are off schedule. What happened to the promise, no, the oath made for us? The blood we sheath? The good people we lost because of the project? AND STILL NO RESULTS AFTER EIGHTY YEARS?" There was the sound of a metallic chair falling.
"Its not money we are after Miss. Wahlgren. Its progress, retaliation, obliterate the crooked genes of humanity, to create the perfect being. A god amongst men…don't you see? Sacrifices are acceptable. They knew the risk they were taking and they accepted…how is that you are placing the blame in me? Haven't I sacrificed enough? Even my own daughter is deceased. The only thing I have left it's waiting the results of this…this thing I have created from scratch. It's all to make life better; don't you want a better life? A life without crimes, without fear of death, without deceases that rob those who we love...it's not a matter of principles. Ethics and the public eye does not matter, we must use everything at our disposal to achieve our goals…"
"It is our goals or is your own?"
A chuckle followed after an amused clap of hands. "Silly girl, how long do you think is left for completing our mission to the world? I didn't help the Ottomans, Mughals, Byzantines, Communist Russia and the Third Reich for nothing…time it's on our side"
The female voice left, with an electric ring of her screen turning off.
"If this fails we just seize another and start from our notes, like always my…right my lord?"
"I wonder if we should be educating them better? Or should we just name them ourselves?" Mussed a young male voice.
"Let us not depart from our original intentions ladies and gentlemen. The next meeting it's when the subject concludes his self induced test and then we shall test his…combat abilities to please our military collaborators and benefactors".
There was a laugh of agreement. "Ah sorry. We got sidetracked, uh?" He sultrily admitted, rubbing an embarrassed hand across the other. His light disappeared, every single light disappeared from the room, and one by one they were silenced leaving only the two elders and the childish one. Static soon took place where the silent man of the glasses and big coat observing the room, as if to prove something. He taped a middle ring against a glass table. As soon as Messer put his sight on him, he showed his ring, and then static followed. Their eyes shifted into each other. Waiting, observing, tasting the air. The ancient sighed and took a big breath to avoid an incoming cough from his rusted internals.
"Still… Heilss we should be testing out his abilities as we observed the other chosen one…she was marvelous and indifferent. Even from her own decisions, I think the female already hit maturity, don't you think so? I think she's ready"
Voices swirled in the air in agreement, until that dark voice spoke again.
"It all began with a bunch of fools. They're all passed on, but me…I still live on" Mused the man in the chair, his tilted his head to the side, bouncing finger and finger in his tangled hands. "You see, in all these years haven't we learned to not rush our intentions? It can lead to superfluous accidents, often resulting in deaths of our coworkers. Have much people have we lost across the centuries?"
"Thousands" Said the ancient man with a raspy tone followed by a hoarse cough.
"Yes…good hands have been lost across the times. We are oddities, monsters that shouldn't exist…"
"Then why do you desire to help the species my lord?" Asked the ancient man tilting his gruff neck to the side.
"What? Atonement of course". Said Messer with grimace. "We have to atone for so much"
"Yes, but those are the problems of the own species my lord. The number of wars obliterates their good intentions, blood, wickedness, corruption. It never ceases to amaze me how little we have evolved across millennia's. What drives them? Motivates them so selfish beings…they don't deserve our help not a taste of a grain of sand of the time we have spent from some of our own ambitions. In my opinion, we must kill it once and for all and create the ultimate being that raises a new species, we could use Membrane notes".
"And if he doesn't agree?" Asked Messer with an amused smirk, placing his weigh on his right hand. He laughed at the trembled and nervous glare that the primeval man gave him.
"Then we will no more use for the likes of him" He obdurately replied. The child turned quickly to him; innocence vanished replaced by a look of deep hatred, one that sent fear across his soul. Messer eyes glistened in the darkness; the ancient man taking every ounce of strength left on his body to not look away in defiance. His voice surefooted and loud rang into his ears, telling him he would be killed, he would be alone, alone; none a person to hold his hand to reassure he would be okay, not to avenge him, or console him, or cheer for him. For the first time in his ancient life he gave up hope. He already sold his soul to the devil when Messer turned him immortal. But his body kept on destroying it self year by year. Inch by painfully inch dying from the inside as days turned into weeks, then months, subsequently years into centuries.
Like a bicentenary man
Except he felt wicked, he had done so small things compared to his age. This man, this man was a root of evil; if he died right now it will be just to prove his point. Yet, he couldn't stop the hot tears leaping from his old eyes.
The man passed some steps back. As he grabbed his cane with trembling hands, he finded himself looking at Messer just by clearing his throat as the loud and idiosyncratic and deranged laugh of a child reached his ears.
"Sit" Spat Messer with just a cruelty that the man was capable off, like a machine he complied.
"Mikhail, Mikhail…how could you doubt of our effort to save humanity from themselves?" He laughed as this was the acerbic joke at his cost, he couldn't get his eyes of the lopsided grin of the small child that punctually put her arms around Heilss frame with love sick eyes that the doctor nonchalantly disregarded. Heilss looked without moving, with business of inflecting the worst possible pain to the weak heart of the tortured old vassal. With a chuckle Heilss stood up, caressing the scarred hands of the child. Her catching his meaning, detached her hands off his frame watching his body crossing the distance to the frightened scientist; she enjoyed a show that was a very unusual manners for Dr. Messer, her daddy and adoration on her life. The doctor advanced slowly, heavily contracting each step into a heavy sound.
Clang…
Mikhail baffled further in his chair.
Clang…
The cane fell heavily to the floor.
Even as Heilss extended one of his elegant digits with a warm smile, a finger touched the trembling hands of Mikhail. "I gave you life, now I take you what you own to me" With a sharp movement, he trapped his screaming cheeks, crushing them with inhuman force. Even with his cheekbones crushed he couldn't accomplish anything against the sickening earsplitting shriek of horror pouring from his own mouth. Saliva coated with blood left his throat as he trashed violently in the chair. With a heavy seizure, and hands flying wildly, his head hit the desk and laid there unmoving.
The child cringed at the sight, turning her head away with a sneer. "Yuck" She exclaimed annoyingly, turning to face the unmoving form. But still keeping an eye in the death corpse, like the curiosity inside her juvenile mind. She moved closer, and touched the old and suppleness flesh with her hand. It was cold at the touch; pulse that she didn't feel life that she didn't believe.
A pair of doors opened at the far end of the room, followed by a darkened man with a silver tray on his hands, contents being of a bottle of radiant bottle of browns and rich yellow cohere with a single short round glass.
"Cognac, sir?" Asked the man.
Messer nodded. The majordomo served quietly the drink as the soggy liquid invaded the glass with a refreshing sound. "Ah! Pity of the recently decease of Mr. Falk, what do you want to do with the remains, sir?" Said the man as he handed the glass to Messer. The doctor took a sip, giving a refreshed sigh after.
He eyed the body with less interest giving it to his glass. "Get rid of it…I don't have more use to this man"
The majordomo nodded. "As you mish master"
"Master, master…I like that word"
The little girl smiled sweetly. "I like the word 'daddy' better" She giggled as Messer just watched from the corner of his eyes. Curiosity again filled her eyes, never have her eyes watched a recently deceased, it was always a dead body that never retained weight, blood or warm…it was exciting and exhilarating. She wanted to rip it open, touch the pulped flesh with her bare hands, wanted to feel the bones beneath the skin, the blood vessels, and organs; tear apart his flesh and body for her waiting hands. She started to sweat again, as her trembled hands touched again the flesh tenderly prior to clawing her nails in his neck.
But as blood poured freely from the wound, staining her hands, she didn't realize that the man suddenly awakened from his dead slumber. With a vice like grip around her neck, the man screamed in anguish wanting to tear her throat open. Wanting to destroy that man constructed innocent smile.
Messer reacted more quickly smashing the glass into his face. Gushing for breath, the child could only watch in surprise as Mikhail felt to the floor. His face a mess, from the blood and broken tissue. He gasped from breath, as he started to choke on his own blood.
"You-you" He began. "You will never understand, they will not change"
"Of course not" Replied Messer with a calm tone. "I want to create the whole thing from the very beginning, Im tired of waiting for the armaggeddon to come. Tired of waiting, tired of listening, tired of the unnecessary deaths, tired of the diatribe anger that humanity feel to themselves…but could you say the same about yourself? Oh Mikhail, Mikhail…where do you left our mission? I have lived long enough to see every corner of the world invaded by the decease of corruption and greed. There are not more than mere beasts; even animals know best how to help each".
And so the ancient man held his head, in confusion, in anger and in dissolution of a doubt so strong that it simply manifest before him, in the look of an answer.
"My objective is not changing humanity"
The ancient man opened his eyes wide as saucers, not a time to give a thought and he would like to be keep in his thoughts forever to not hear the shameful and shocking retort so cold and full of aloofness of deep hatred.
As the effect of the hollow gaze, Messer laughed with irony in his face. "You though I wanted to change 6 billion monsters!?" He sharply held what was left of his hair as the child held his head upward unsympathetically.
"I planted the seeds, even if they didn't grow as I expected" Messer said stealing a glance at the child. "I let them grow, I lost entire forests…but there it is the perfect example now my poison. They will destroy this entire man made world, the man made corruption, the man made greed and avarice. I want to see the fire, destruction spreading in their worlds. And then I will not be the ripper, just merely the devil's advocate HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"
The ancient man echoed with the deadly mad man laugh. "You---you monster…how can you talk about life as it was nothing"
Messer smiled sadistically. "Because it IS nothing, you see? You said yourself 'It never ceases to amaze me how little we have evolved across millennia'. Im afraid my friend that not even the aeons of infinity will change their infected minds. We should butcher them at birth, it should be more trilling that way, don't you agree?" He laughed cruelly.
"Now die already you old fool" With a mocking salute, he took a big sip from the bottle while the majordomo stood there motionless.
"NO!" Screamed Mikhail grabbing the first thing that came in contact with his broken hands. Messer fell as the deranged hands held his knees. "You are not going anywhere"
CLANK
A dry wave of pain surged through his body, he let go of Messer. As droplets of blood dripped through his face, in disbelief he touched his scalp feeling broken tissue, flesh disrupted by the heavy blow inflicted upon him. With tired eyes, he looked at the gold platted candelabra. High raised in the air, blood dripping to the floor from it.
It was the child that held the candelabra, as panting and nervous as she was now. The object like weapon was shacking so hard in her little hands. So nervous, so willing to follow a shadow of a doctrine inflected upon her young mind. As the ancient man laid there taking hold of his head in his broken hands, he tried to move, but his body didn't react nor did his thoughts. He felt the weight of time for the first time in his life, crushing him to the floor without even move his eyes from his sockets. Still a compassionate look took hold of his tired eyes to ask for forgiveness, not to himself, not the child or Messer. But for humanity, the one thing he was destined to help abandon him to a cold fate as this. Now he was about to die for a sin he helped to commit and create.
The young girl saw the ancient of a man lips turn into a sad smile, as he opened his mouth to say something. Immediately, the first thoughts about what was about to being said came to her from his own words a while back. 'But I still don't know why do you keep her close my lord? She's incomplete, a malfunctioning animal that should be killed. She taint our work with failure, she has no use for us'. And so she remembered, remembered the cruel words of indifference from the likes of him, for all the people that had misread her, insulted her and avoid her. She was a monster to others, a nuisance, rejected by others and other children looked at her with scorn. They call her the living doll…
If we break her,
We just patch her up with thread and needle.
If we torn out her little petty head,
We sewed her back together.
We count her fingers and toes,
We play with her but she does not play for us.
If we broke her face,
We gave our doll a smiley new face.
Little doll, little doll…
Our fun starts when your suffering began.
We can't unglue the maternal glue that's blood.
Oh little doll, so fragile like us,
Little doll that is sewn back together,
Ties of flesh, content our faces as we fix our doll.
We never drop her or stepped on her.
Little living doll, we can hear your denial.
And so she paid her due, and so we pay for our fun.
We are dead,
Yet you live as a toy in human skin.
Little doll of flesh living,
An empty living dead corpse is what you are.
Denial is what you repeated all over,
But you will always be…
But you will always be our little dead living doll.
And she remembered and remembered again and again, the stinging words of others; frozen in her head and she did snap. Snapped at everyone that looked at her with distain, removed their mocking faces, taken insulting limps and sewn them back again so they could be like her. And she carved smiles that the living mocking corpses should have, as she was born with scars---then others should have the same marks as hers. So anyone can look at the mirror and feel what it is like to be a doll.
And the child looked at the twitching lips, with words about to be spoken. Commit to the horrible memories, she did the one only thing that always denies the inward cruel words…she broke off his jaw. In an instant her child features transformed into a mask of hatred, and then the unexpected blow came. There was a very audible 'TWAT', he's weak muscles didn't hold his shacking form. The excruciating pain bringing memories of death, the loss and the mourning, the beginning and the aftermath, sorrow and sadness. He was going to die; he could already taste the copper of blood swirling in his tongue. Something solid too…his teeth, some of them lose, once healthy gums ripped and mangled. He spat blood, and laid down his head in the floor to rest it; his jaw was aching so much. His tongue felt so loose, puncture beyond any common relief; he spat a loose wisdom tooth along with blood.
The ancient man wiped the tears leaking from his eyes with a pained chuckle. "Funny, destroyed by my own creation" He began ignoring the pain, but still trembling from it. "I see the pain behind your eyes child, so sad. I don't remember a past or a future…five hundred and eighty three years, is that correct?"
"That is correct…my friend" Nodded Messer sipping his cognac again.
Still that didn't make any difference to the child. "IM NOT A CREATION!!!! Im just a little girl, so---so what if I need to sew my skin? Im beautiful, I-I guess I feel that way. I…I am not a doll" She gripped the candelabra even harder, threatening to hit again if provoked as the ancient man pondered what to do in the few minutes left before his demise. And so he smiled, and laughed as nothing was wrong, as if the blood didn't slide from his face, as if he wasn't bathing in sweat, tears and the dark blood liquid. And so she laughed, the child laughed too, but not as fear, not as joy or a final helping hand to an ancient soul. It was because she was going to enjoy this, because she held the weapon of his demise, she held his life on her little stitched hands. And so he laughed even harder, spat a tooth or two; bring a chuckle to Messer, a raise of eyebrows from the majordomo.
And so he laughed, and so she raised her hand.
"Child…look what you did. You murdered me" It was the droplet that tumbled the glass over, they were no more words, just unmoving eyes.
Those were the last words muttered by the ancient man, still with a ring of laugher tasting his dying tongue; afterward he fell again to one blow to his cheekbones leaving his fragile body in the floor convulsing. The candelabra raised high above the child head's, eyes filled with madness, anger and blood lust. The screams didn't came, soft bone which supported the roof of teeths and gums were so broken. Cartilage of the nose was broken, neck bruised, blood covering all skin, splattering in the floor.
TWAP
Blood was splashed on her hands, her expression unmovable.
SPLAT
Eyeball flown from his cranium, eye socket crushed by the force of another noxious blow. Eyeballs ejected sight unaffected by the carnage, manslaughter written in blood.
TWAP
The gory entity came down again faster, splashing chunks of flesh into her innocent face.
SPLASH
Skull now implode, fresh cerebellum. Broken arteries gushing freshly blood, a soggy sound and all was out infesting the carpet.
The child laid there unmoving, not daring to open her eyes stained with the carnage she just inflected. The candelabra slipped out from her wet tarnish red, fingers falling with a wet thud to the wooden floor. Frontal hemisphere slithered freely from crushed ears; it was like one twisted soup, a macabre creation of the same class of ghoulish maker. Eyes didn't believe, brain didn't receive, hands twitched in confusion, the heart bumped faster and faster. Thoughts fell from the mind, and so did the reaction of the little one; such emotion was engraved into the mind of humanity? Killing, killer, murder, murderer, slayer, assassin, death bringer, destroyer…
"Wh---wha…what did I do father?"
Messer cleared his throat. "You killed another human being dear"
The child hugged herself, the foreign red liquid blotting her clothes. She clenched her teeth, letting this new information pass through her mind, hot tears running across her face like hot magma. Hands trapping the soft material in them cutting layers of skin and clothe together. She lowered her confused head to the ground, until it touched her knees.
The doctor just chuckled at the sight, just cringing a little at the gray matter and skull pieces and blood staining his carpet.
"James, be so kind and clean this up, burn the body if you please"
The majordomo who had stood all the time immobile just nodded, giving the fragile girl a look before closing the double doors behind him.
Dr. Messer cleared his throat to gain the child attention; she was just too busy feeling sorry for herself that didn't acknowledge his presence at all. Inquired with perplexity and a tad of anger he closed the distance between him and the child. Barely touching her quivering shoulder with the exact reproduction of a kind touch. To her, it was like a touch of death across her shoulder. She dared to look into his kind face, but his eyes betray him, eyes said evil, the smile a lie. All the waywardness of his being, the fury reflecting in the dark pit of his eyes. All the misery, all the wisdom, but most of all was that cold fire in his gaze. It simply frozen her in the spot, she couldn't move or talk.
It was the first eyes she saw after the accident. The untoward mishap that reshaped her life into what he wanted, an object that could reshape and rebuild itself. Because beneath the flesh, bones and organs; the human being was still a sentient object and nothing more. The nature of feeling was the one restructuring each set of a simple life, moving the gears of the mind.
She gave up, moving her eyes downhill with a twitch of her head. Messer smiled pleased with the feeling he could still cause in her. "Do not worry; it is not your fault"
She couldn't accept this. "But—'ut…it was me. I did it" She lifted her convulsing hands to his eyes, blood and gray matter still fresh and shining in the silvery light that just escaped from the dark curtains in the windows. Without tearing his eyes of the bloody display, Messer grabbed his hands into her own; not actually caring if he was chiefly getting his hands filthy with butchery. A look from his cold eyes froze her in the spot, with blood blotted hands he caressed her hands just held together by black stitches. She wanted to get away from his grip, except that fear of ripping off a finger or maybe two.
She hated been torn apart in front of others but yet again, she couldn't avoid looking as half of her pinky dislodged from her left hand.
"Oopsie" She said as an act of contrition. The pinky felt with remains of the used thread still appended. Fearful eyes gazed at cold ones, waiting for a reaction in that face made like stone.
And then he laughed…it wasn't the cruel laugh and hollow of any emotion other than fear and rage that the child was so used to. She didn't like it a bit; the child clutched at Messer wrist, trying to demand to make him stop; but all that emerged was a displeased 'Eh' from him. Messer detached from her sharply, he frowned grabbing the severed pinky and throw it back at her with a disappointed look.
"Make yourself presentable, we have a big appointment with Sheik Yassin and I don't want you to carry that part of yourself as if it was a mere bauble knick-knack"
She nodded circling the majordomo who was still busy will seize every single piece of gore and putting them in the metallic trait. The child sat in a chair in the far room, hearing the doors closing to the side, the body now missing. Only the freshly blood and remains of gray matter lingering in the walls and the floor remained, still the child put the severed finger in the table. With threat and needle she sew her flesh, her wound throbbed. Psychotic precision breaking through live tissue dashing the pain of unity.
The child recited a petty song…
Horrific perception that enters the brain
An abnormal psyche insanities brain
Cemented beyond immeasurable doubt
Psychotic or not they need a way out
Needle pierce skin, severed finger resting.
Of their obscured minds
If they want to be set free
Lunatics of wrath
Horrid killing viciously
Black threat drenched with blood, another part unified.
Like incisions
With conviction
Various deaths
Identical
Fresh puddle, blood is spilling. Needle drawn into the air, stitch ten it's completed.
In hell they will find
it is where they need to be
Murder redefined
Butchered meticulously
Gaunt bones amalgamated, beset with pain and fury.
Killed the same way
On the same day
Various deaths
Identical
Slow tone, tunes calm and full of man constructed innocence.
Aware not of the cruel visions each had
To slaughter alike they must truly be mad
Rewarded with blood on their ignorant hands
These psychos precisely slew many men
Flesh smacked together, a new part resigned together.
With their obscure minds
Feeling that they were set free
Murder redefined
Butchered meticulously
Torn pieces reconstructed, pain forgotten.
Like incisions
With conviction
Various deaths
Identical
Killed the same way
On the same day
Abysmal deaths
Imperceptible
Song finished, the tunes died. She pulls, the regeneration it's completed.
The child pulled her hand into a fist, testing the new markings in her skin, another part destroyed, another part unified by man made faux ligament. The child bit off the remains of the black threat, making a cute little knot. She smiles then, standing proudly to the unobserved.
"There! All done" She states, expanding attention across the room. The child pulled Messer sleeve for attention. "See daddy? All done!" He nodded in response without giving a look of acknowledgement.
"Don't coddle me child, there's still much to be done"
She nodded, taking hold of her instruments and following Messer out in the there, but one way or another something was reminded to her.
How could people that stupid are still staining our gene pool? She asked in her own head, but clearly the stimuli didn't fit.
"Manufacturing its becoming so harder this days" She heard her daddy mutter, holding his hand to hers, and then she remembered.
"I wonder how Dib is doing…"
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two weeks after the receiving phase…
"This looks like shit" Cafeteria seems like a friendly word in a world of living machines, how predictable that the name 'chow hall' was consign by other high ranking machines. But that was the plan right? Control and you'll get a secure victory in your hands, as long as you play your cards right; or in this case dispensable heroes, named the USMC. Dib shacked his head; he hated when Tot messed with his thoughts. But two hundred people were something even messier than a trait of thought.
"At least we got something to eat. What do you thing Iraqis eat Membrane?" A young man asked Dib, as tall as he. Caucasian skin, BCG's assigned glasses so ugly with dark trim, named port holes or anti rape glasses. Dark eyes and figure just like him, still packing muscle from training.
Dib chuckled after some consideration. "Dirt and some crappy Saddam Hussein poster" There were some laughs and murmurs of disapproval in the line. Partly that elbow slamming into his gut. He smiled innocently at Lissa, tossing the sling of the unloaded M16A2 rifle upward. He didn't get it why the hell he needed to bring that thing everywhere he went. At least you won't be fucking it, commented Tod dryly causing him to almost drop his tray. He sighed eyeing the food that didn't look that bad as the others recruits talk about. Another recruit frowned with splattered soup and a box of MRE (Meals Ready to Eat), or better known inside his bricks (Barracks) as Massive Rectal Explosion.
Got several names in the Corps. 'Mr. E' (mystery), Meals Rejected by Everyone, Meals, Rarely Edible, Meals Rejected by the Enemy; Morsels, Regurgitated, Eviscerated, Meal, Ready to Excrete, Materials Resembling Edibles, and even Meals Rejected by Ethiopians. Some meals got their own nicknames. For example, the frankfurters, which came sealed in pouches of four, are referred to as 'the four fingers of death'. Although they weren't that bad compared to the 'red death', by far the worst evil beef with cabbage ever created by humanity. MREs were called by the DI's (Drill Instructor) 'Three Lies for the Price of One': it's not a Meal, it's not Ready, and you can't Eat it. Their low dietary fiber content causes constipation in some of the members of the bricks by the first day, him included. They were also known as "Meals Refusing to Exit", Meals Refusing to excrete, or their own nickname Massive Rectal Explosion.
A superstition came with the MRE. Among recruits about the Charms candies that come with some menus. They are considered bad luck, especially if actually eaten. He attributed this to a case of a joking dislike becoming a superstition, like if this was the ridiculous case of dropping salt in the table. Not eating them 'just in case' or because it might make one's comrades uneasy. They didn't taste like any real cereal he ever got his hands on, not counting the other options even that Gaz didn't even eat before the accident. Sporting a reserved grin of self amusement, he smirked at the annoyed chow cook.
"Enjoy your meal" Pair of MRE's were thrown at his tray that Dib just catch in time before they hit the ground, catching his counter cocky smile. With a sneer and almost the need to raise his middle finger he went to an empty table soon followed by his newer friend and Lissa and a big guy named Kirk.
The process started by opening the dark brown envelope followed by a pull from one of the sides. With the cover out, you took out the whole package. If hell could be contained within a reduced space this would be the place, even the Devil would run. The big predicament of the day was that he was on double chow; because of his lesser weight, he needed double rations to bump up his mass to a suitable level.
"I hate Mr. E meals" Dib commented just opening the envelope with his nails. "Worst than those shitty instant burritos".
Kirk snickered, intertwining his fingers in front of his face. "I tell ya man, this shit is going to kill us before a bullet or a frag grenade. Hell even I prefer to 'take one for the team' just for not tasting this crap any longer. What would I do for a nice pork chops, ribs and a large coke; simply delicious".
He nodded, taking his rifle and putting in besides the table, Lissa gave him a love sick smile, eyes shrunken until he was the only in her sights. "Oh, whats going on with that girl fella?"
"It's not your business paly". Spat Dib with some anger, Lissa that was more open just dismissed waving her hand.
"Don't listen to him; he's just mad because he can't fuck me. Right stud?" She added with a wink and a shy smile. If people could die from introversion, Dib would be already death in the floor, with maggots filling arteries.
The others snickered jokingly, several people whistling for the embarrassment of Dib and the enjoyment of Lissa. "Look what we 'ot here. A real sunset superman, don't do an orgy in the table"
"First off is morning chow". Kirk declared with air of self importance.
And he continued, like if he was declaring a national statement. "You have to be the fastest platoon in the AM. No dicking around in the head or sloppy bunks. I swear the DI's get medals on who can get there last. They will do everything in there power to make you the last. We had a science down of waking at revile fully dressed, cleaned up, bunks made and squad bay squared away. The whole goal is to get there first receive you 1 scoop of egg, 1 scoop of meat and 1 scoop of grits or oatmeal and go. You can also grab cereal and fruit. Last ones in get everything cold and only minimal time to eat.
Lunch should be MRE's unless they are in short supply. When I did my time, we received bag nasties. A cheap sandwich, fruit, chips and a drink. The sandwich was plain no mustard or nothing. The one slice of meat was worthless. The bread had mold to pick off. The fruit was on the verge of being rotten and the chips are the 25 cents size. You will be ready for dinner after that nasty lunch".
There was another pause as the table still was trying to digest everything said, he continue nonetheless.
"Dinner is normally hot and well received. Meatloaf, chicken or sausage. Potatoes are the norm for a starch and they are plain and dry. The veggies are the canned type and over heated. The first week everyone complains of the lousy food but by the third week on the Island is another story. You will be counting the seconds on when you can chow down on something with some substance. When out in the field you only get one hot meal and that is usually breakfast. The plus is they give you breakfast hot gravy to warm you frozen eggs and hash browns. Damn that crap sure was good after waking before dawn in the cold. Your SDI may even ban sugar all together, ours did. No fruit juice, no orange juice and no coffee. This was to help our nerves to eliminate the shakes while on the rifle range. It worked for us since we took the range. The food just sucks; it is a lot bet in the Schools and in the Fleet. They just give you plain high protein and carbs to help refuel you bodies so they can continue to break you down and form Marines. We all made it you will too, so good luck".
There was a dead silence, tables were frozen; it was like if hell broke loose and then a prophet appeared in the mess hall, then again a voice was needed bo break the silence.
"What the fuck was that?" A voice that brings fear among recruits broke the silence.
Everyone stood up immediately, hands smacked at the trouser seams, fingers curling from memory; like they were taught to. "I said what in the fucks was that? Are you reading a bed time tale private? I can't hear ya, are you complaining about the food and shelter we are giving here to our Marines? Are you even listening to me son? What in the fuck were you saying?"
"Sir, Im writing a book sir!"
"A book? Oh shit we got ourselves Shakespeare here. Do you feel that you are more sophisticated and astoundingly more brighter than the rest private Hansen? Are you sure about what you are writing son?"
"A book about my experience with the Marines sir!"
"Marine?" He snickered. "You aint shit, you are not a Marine. You are a pile of gonorrhea shit, leprosy infected with pus is your envelop you slimy fucking walrus looking piece of shit. I swear for the cunt of Saint Mary that if I ever heard of your bullshit again, you'll clean the head with your tongue 'til you can't distinguish shit from ice cream. Did I make myself clear now you book-porn loving son of a bitch?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
"I CANT HEAR YA DAMN IT"
"SIR, YES SIR!"
"How tall are you, private?"
"Five-foot-nine, sir!"
"Five-foot-nine?" He added in faux disbelief. Fuck! I didn't know they stacked shit that high".
Still his chin didn't drop; eyes were fierce, attentive and ready.
Coddler nodded in approval. "Good carry on, be sure to add this part to this book. And the part where you surrender faggot" And then he left, others would be soon replacing his post, some others worst and crueler. To the marines this was a common treatment, nobody expected sugar coated words and lick balls phrases. No in the USMC, and not even in a single place in this island.
Dib saw the fury in his eyes, a necessary fury. Hate was a common word among recruits, hate the food, hate the racks, I hate the treatment. But oh boy it did work, the constant PT's with hard and cruel motivation. But it did get the job done everytime, and if someone failed to do so, the whole racks was punished by extra labor and more PT than a body builder in a steroids factory.
"I'll be sure to write this down man; DI's sure kill us everyday with their crap"
Lissa waved it off. "Give some time, in two weeks you'll end loving your rifle and we still got fun while at it. Heard from a whiskey locker recruit, that in phase two we can snap in whatever the hell we want. Fuck even Javelin missiles"
"Really? Still competition would be fuck up, I don't really want to play thumb of war again" Mussed the skinny young man, taking a sip from the fruited drink.
"You know, Yuri we never asked about ye"
"What of it?"
He sneered. "Oh c'mon. Dib told us he was from San Jose, same Lissa, that dude with the scar in the face told use he was from Ohio and your from Brooklyn and your name is Yuri and nothing more. You look like a commie to me though"
"My name is Yuri Anatolyevich Bout, born in Saint Petersburg. My family immigrated when the USSR came down and I was eleven in 91. Got established in Brooklyn and now papa manufactures sweet Russian Vodka. Stuff you Americans imperialist dogs cant seem to understand"
The table was get together with a good laugh; even so Yuri still remained with a New York and Russian accent. "Still it worries me that my country biggest export would be facing us"
"What do you mean?" Asked Lissa.
"Yiu know, the AK47, the Kalashnikov, the assault rifle that changed the word. I don't know you, but I prefer the heavier Russian made bullets or the international seven six two for fifty one Nato"
"Don't forget Russian equipment, BMP's, T72 tanks".
"Bah! Its Russian cheap shit exports. Don't have ceramic armor, it is cheap stuff. Think that Russia is crazy enough to sell their best stuff to foreigners? Bullshit. And it will be the same outcome, America came in same year with Operation Desert Storm and blown up every single Republic Guard Asad Babil's tanks to hell. Bet Taji factory cant manufacture them anymore. Saddam it's a desperate man, and will kick his ass to dust. You'll see, piece of cake for Marines, win every battle. Then go home, I hope I can visit mother Russia. Still those shit heads of Tanker Wars issue supplied arms to Iraq and intelligence. Its gonna be like Afghanistan all over, 'cept that Russians will never set a foot on Iraq. Battle zeros our rifles and kill 'em all as long as the bird, ball and hook support us, e'rything will be fine…you'll see"
Yuri took another sip empting the can.
Everyone seemed to be nodding in approval.
"Shit that some good stuff for the book"
"Shut your trampy mouth Kirk"
Lissa ignored the rants, taking a look for Dib, but he was depth in though.
She caressed his hand quietly, enjoying the warm that spread to her body as he intertwined his hand with hers. "Whats the matter?"
His eyes looked distant and worried. "I don't know…I-Im sure something bad will happen. It's a war after all, and everyone will lose something and I don't want to lose you"
She smiled. "That's too sweet, but we need to get out of boot camp first, then infantry school and then we will have time for worry. For now let's enjoy the little time we have to talk"
He nodded, giving a weak smile. "Sounds like a very complete schedule, doesn't it?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: Again sorry for the big delay, gonna start another fic soon and I'll got the time for another chapter of Amiss Sins and then this one yet again. Marines acronyms can be found on wikipedia; just write List of United States Marine Corps acronyms and expressions, you're set then. The war will begin in two chapters. In the next chapter, boot camp is completed, with ten mandatory days of freedom before the final training in infantry school. What will Dib and Lissa do? How will their families react when war will be about to start? When the final goodbye is said, there will be not going back.
From Venezuela
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