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Command and Conquer: Beneath the Eagle's Wing

Chapter 2: Eye and Talon

Personal journal of Cassandra Blair (excerpts)

Profession: In-field reporter, W3N

Status: On assignment, southern Egypt, yellow zone Y-2

December 20, 2047

Even here…ugh…feel ill…

I've been sick before. Stomach bugs, the flu, everything. But not like this. Not when I feel like I'm dying. Not to the extent where I've actually had to call W3N and ask them to find a new topic for their broadcasts, public relations be damned. I know Boyle wants success stories, especially after the Italy FUBAR, but…well, screw him.

At least now, lying in my bunk with the fan up above, I feel well enough to write. I was afraid it was tiberium poisoning at first. Haven't been wearing my helmet that often, and it's completely out of the question for the televised stuff. But no-my bloodstream was clear. According to Combelle, it was likely something in the water.

"Water? But it's bottled."

"So we're bottling contaminated water. You get used to it."

"And it's not food poisoning?"

Yeah…stupid question, looking back at what I remember of the conversation. No bug on Earth would bother setting up home in the plastic food here.

Still, it has got me thinking, as to what it's like on the other side of the fence. I've decided to start cutting down on food-at the last, the children need it. I wouldn't trust them with the water though. But then again, maybe they're used to it.

I hate to sound so cold. But maybe Combelle's right. Maybe being cold is a mandate for our survival.

Either way, come tomorrow, I'll be heading back into the warmth of the Egyptian sun and getting these people's stories told.

Even if they're all similar.

December 25, 2047

Christmas day. GDI style.

Major Reeb gave the base the day off. Which basically meant doing nothing as usual, but we could choose our nothing to do. And at the least, thanks to the stories I've been logging over the weeks, W3N gave me the day off as well. More chances to do nothing.

Yet the soldiers present find stuff to do. There's a building dedicated for vid-phones and the like. The connections are on the fritz mostly, thanks to the havoc wrought by the scrin on our satellites, not to mention ion storms. Yet with the extra time the guys and girls have, they're making the most of it. I thought about doing an article on that, but decided against it. It's my day off as well. And I think they'd enjoy it if I wasn't hovering over their shoulder.

And hey, something else has changed. Combelle's stopped calling me "ma'am" or "Miss Blair," or reporting to me as "the reporter." Apparently I'm now… "sunshine." Yeah, I don't get it either, especially since sunshine is in abundance in this part of the world. Asking him why is no good either-something about being a ray of sunshine in a shitty situation, assuring the public that GDI is doing everything it can to help these people…freedom of the press indeed. Still, maybe it's just a one day thing, though he was kind enough to ask me whether I wanted to use the vid-phones at all, whether there was anyone I wanted to call.

No. There isn't. Hasn't been for over twenty years.

December 27, 2047

Some things you never forget.

There's a few things I know I won't. One is the day of August 25, 2030. A day where a terrorist bombing occurred in Manchester. One among many all over Europe, paving the way for the opening of the Second Tiberium War. A bomb where, among the list of casualties, were the names Theodore and Pamela Blair.

The second thing I won't forget would be the scrin invasion. Yeah…Nod did a number on us, but at least they're human (even if they don't act like that). But first contact with an alien species? An alien species that invaded New Eden among other places, where you were stationed at? I won't deny, that was terrifying. As reporters, we're obligated to stay in control to the best of our abilities, but how could anyone do that when there were spaceships flying above?

The third thing was today. And part of the reason I'm writing this entry in particular is to get the images out of my head.

Went out in a Roughrider again today, albeit one escorted by a pair of Pitbulls as well. Standard patrol, signs of Nod activity…just like the trip from the south, only I was obliged to wear body armour in addition to the suit that I've barely taken off since I got here.

In the context of the RPG hitting the Roughrider and turning it over, I think it saved my life.

I had my hover-camera active the entire time, and I'll get round to reviewing the footage eventually. But at the time…Christ, I barely remember it. My ears were ringing, Combelle was shouting, pulling me away from the wreck. Telling me to stay down as the Pitbulls swivelled around to meet their enemy and troopers took cover and opened fire.

It's funny…I never even saw the enemy. Apparently they were mutant marauders, likely wanting to get their hands on some hardware. Apart from the Roughrider, we didn't suffer any losses. Was a squeeze in the Pitbulls, but we managed to get back to Uniform okay…if "okay" is the word that one could use to describe the look I saw in the kids' eyes. None of us talked on the way back and I wasn't inclined to make conversation.

It got worse at the camp. Other convoys had been attacked. There was even the suggestion that the Forgotten might be staging a wider campaign against GDI. Not even they can survive in red zones that easily, and there's only so much land left on the planet fit for human habitation. But hey, we were lucky.

Others weren't, and the medical staff had their hands full. And it's here again where things get blurry.

I remember taking my helmet off, and retching. Sweat is a common smell, especially with the lack of sonic showers here and water showers being limited to one every two weeks. But the smell of blood is something else. At some point…I decided to head into one of the tents. Coming across a young boy, maybe…eighteen years old? No different from the other guys I'd rode with. Only in his case, he was missing his legs and was having trouble breathing. Not only had the Forgotten blasted them off, but had used tiberium-based weaponry against him. He was now choking to death as the crystals tore him apart from the inside.

I wanted to get out of it then. Really. But I was a person with a camera. He knew he was dying. And with those two facts combined, he…gave his last words.

It'll be private, I promised myself and Major Reeb that. Something to send to his family and nothing else. As for the rest of the footage, that's still at my discretion.

Maybe that's why I'm writing this down. To know what needs to be said.

And what can never be.

A/N

Update (21/06/2012): Made spelling/grammar corrections.