Internal Affairs
It had only been four hours since the first bomb had hit D.C. but it felt like days. A light rain had started, soaking Allen to the bone. He, along with Foley had been keeping tabs on the battle that was raging outside of their small command center. The narrow trench had been progressively filling with water since Allen had arrived. It had been one defeat after another, all day long. Ramirez had been taking the civilian casualties particularly hard, they'd left him to get some rest.
"What are you thinkin' Sarge?" asked Allen, surveying the postmarked landscape that once was the National Mall.
Foley took one glance at the helicopters collecting people to be evacuated and said "I don't think we've got enough birds to evac the amount of people we got coming in."
Foley sighed then said "Better get Ramirez.. Marshall will want us to move in with the next wave." Once Allen disappeared into the command post, Foley removed a small crinkled black and white photograph. It was a picture of a simpler time, back when the war was an ocean away when your children didn't have to worry about Russian tanks rolling through your neighborhood. His family never liked the thought of him going to war, but he just couldn't leave his men. Who would lead them? Certainly not Dunn, the man got himself into too much trouble to take a position of leadership. And he wasn't about to leave his men with some green as grass sergeant just trying to get to lieutenant. No, his family may not like the idea of him risking his life on a daily basis but maybe, someday they'd understand. Silently, he refolded the photo and returned it to his vest pocket.
Allen found Ramirez sitting on an upturned crate holding a piece of paper. Allen took a seat next to him, and trying to break the ice asked "Letter from your girlfriend?"
"N-no.." stuttered Ramirez, "It's from my sister.."
"Then what's the problem?" asked Allen, noticing Ramirez's gloomy attitude.
"R-russians.. They're docked in the bay.." said Ramirez.
"Where's she live?"
"San Francisco.." said Ramirez, his voice barely a whisper.
"I'm sure she'll be fine. I mean-" started Allen.
Turning around, Ramirez screamed "How can you be so sure? How do you know?"
"I-I.." started Allen, trying to find the right words but finding none.
"THAT'S RIGHT! You don't know!" continued Ramirez, tears streaming down his face, "You don't know what it's like to have a family member in harm's way! So don't tell me you FUCKING know what's going to happen and who's going to be okay! Don't give me that line of shit!" And with that he snatched up his M4A1 and stormed out into the rain.
Dunn was tired. Tired of killing. Tired of watching families he was sent to escort to safety be gunned down. Tired of watching this once proud city be slowly bathed in blood. He found himself huddled in the corner, not wanting to go out into the rain. Back into the meat grinder. He figured if things kept going as they were he'd have a full head of gray hair by the time he was thirty. But his train of thought was broken by the sound of Ramirez screaming from down the hall, he turned to see what was going on only to see that Ramirez was yelling at Allen. In one swift motion the rookie snatched up his M4 and stormed out into the rain, he could tell that this wasn't the Ramirez he knew. The Ramirez he knew was soft-spoken kid who you couldn't get to swear even if your life depended on it, the kind of person you caught reading anime. The Ramirez he had just seen was in no way shape or form that same individual. This Ramirez had the eyes of a cold blooded killer, the kind you'd see in some special forces elite not an eighteen year old kid straight out of high school. Dunn had never been in the top of his class, but he could tell when people were pissed and needed someone to yell at. In this situation, that person would be him. Sighing, he grabbed his SCAR-H and headed out into the rain. Ramirez had situated himself farther down the trench then Foley who seemed to either not know of the situation or simply figured it best leave the rookie alone.
Settling down next to Ramirez, Dunn said "Look, man. You can't keep that all bottled up inside, it'll eat you from the inside out. So what's got you so pissed?"
"Why? Are you hear to spout bullshit about everything being okay?" asked Ramirez, his eyes narrowed in anger but yet behind that veil of anger were the eyes of a scared little boy.
"What did Allen say that got you so riled up?" asked Dunn, still not understanding what made the kid so mad.
"My sister.. She lives in San Francisco.. You heard the Russian's got ships sittin' right in the bay?" said Ramirez.
"No. Didn't know that." said Dunn, so Allen had pushed the rookie's button's one too many times and now the poor kid snapped. "But look, they've got highly trained Marines stationed up there. The Russians make one move and they'll be dead before they even reach the shore."
"That's the same crock of shit Allen told me!" growled Ramirez, "You're all the fucking same, you know that? And I'm tired of it, you think just because I'm young means that you can just tell me everything's okay and all will be well?"
"No, I.." started Dunn, realizing it was already too late to talk his way out of this jam.
"So how about you tell me the truth.." growled Ramirez, grabbing Dunn by the collar.
"I already did." said Dunn."Don't fucking lie to me!" yelled Ramirez, knocking Dunn to the ground with a swift punch.
"Easy, Ramirez. Calm down. Don't do something you'll regret." said Foley, grabbing the Private's hands to prevent him from lashing out at Dunn anymore.
Ramirez wriggled out of the Sergeant's hands and said "I don't any of your fatherly advice! I'm not five fucking years old!" Then he headed to the far end of the trench.
"Yeah, well you sure act like one." muttered Dunn, rubbing his chin.
Foley just scowled at him.
What will happen next? Hint, hint. It starts with Of Their Own Accord. Which means I'm almost finished with the campaign. At least for the Rangers, which means I still have to finish the 141's story.. Read and Review, I beg of you!
