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| True Patriot | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 21 2009, 08:35 AM (278 Views) | |
| Rockslide | Dec 21 2009, 08:35 AM Post #1 |
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October 2008 11:54 Jus Soli Recruitment Station Santo stood in front of the white building with an emblazoned Jus Soli emblem plastered on the front. The doorway was framed with all sorts of recruitment posters. Smiling, obvious mutants dressed in military garb with cheesy slogans like "Defend Your Country!", "Beat Back The Homo Sapiens", and "Show The World True Mutant Might" looked down on him, mocking him. Santo snarled his nose at their empty faces and leaned up against the side of the building, lighting a cigarette. He didn't really know why he had taken up the habit. He didn't have lungs, didn't get the kick off nicotine, and they were damn expensive to get ahold of in the current economic crunch. He would never admit it but it was more of a rebellion attempt at his disapproving foster guardians. Just about everything he did was to piss off his foster guardians. Including the reason why he was here today. Santo finished his smoke, grinding the butt into the unusually clean city streets. He squared his shoulders back and took a deep breath. He pushed open the door and was greeted by a smiley little man who said all the right things. Spouted off all the nonsense about the glories of Jus Soli and the service he was giving to all mutantkind everywhere by serving on the frontlines. Santo nodded along impatiently with the mindless drivel. He didn't give a damn about his civic duty or whatever else the idiot was going on about. The truth was options were pretty slim for Santo. He still hadn't found his place in the JS. He didn't fit into the happy little mutant utopia. He had found out pretty early on in his mutation that he was a standout fighter. He just figured he should put it to good use. The man finished his overly righteous speech and finally got down to business. He slid the paper across to Santo and flipped him a pen. Well this was it. He could sign over his life and make himself the property of his government. No more worries about what to do. Just follow orders. He hesitated, did he really want to do this? Maybe he should just go home, go back to work at the construction company, and try to live a normal life. Santo nearly pushed the paper away when the door opened. In strode a man with a cigar clamped between his teeth and a scowl on his face, wearing the garb of a JS soldier. However, the most interesting thing about the man was the fact that he had four arms. "Hello there Sergeant," mindless drone greeted him. The man grunted in reply grabbing a folder off a filing cabinet and flipping through it. He looked up. "New meat?" he questioned. "Yessir," replied the lackey. "Well, well, well. You look stout kid," he flicked Santo's side rubbing his chin thoughtfully, and continuing to sort through his files. "Okay rock boy, why do you want to join up?" Santo shifted nervously in his chair. Maybe he wanted to hear what the idiot across from him had been spouting off. Santo mumbled off some stuff about wanting to protect others and duty to the state. The man chuckled. "Don't give me that crap, boy." He walked around and leaned up against the desk. "That crap is for people like him to get off too. If that is the best you can do then get the hell out. We don't need more people like chump Charlie, here in this army." The recruiter's face turned a bright shade of purple but held his tongue. The four armed man continued. "I know that you are lying kid. So why don't you just level with me. Why do you want to join the army?" "I don't know," muttered Santo. "What's that son?" the man questioned. "I said I don't know," Santo shouted. The man shook his head, "Then get out kid. I ain't got any use for you." Santo shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere." The man slammed all four arms on the table. "Then why are you here? Why do you want to fight?" he yelled in Santo's face. Santo yelled back without thinking, "Because it's the only thing I know how to do!" The four armed man leaned back, smiling for the first time. He put his cigar back in his mouth and extended a hand. "Well, thats more like it. Welcome to the JS army." |
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| Rockslide | Dec 22 2009, 06:41 AM Post #2 |
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November 2008 16:54 Basic Training Camp "Dammit Vacarro!" the now much maligned voice cut through the commotion of the drill. Santo felt a calloused hand pull him out of the muck where he lay sprawling, as a result of tripping in the obstacle course. He was hauled up to meet the face of his screaming sergeant, who was flailing his other three arms around to enhance his constant point - how bad of a soldier Santo was. Not that it was just Santo, of course. Sarge seemed to think that every one of the recruits were the worse soldiers he had ever seen. It was just Santo's turn to get an ear full. "You may be the clumsiest sunuvabitch I have ever laid eyes on. How hard is it to stay on your feet, recruit?" Sarge dragged him over to the start of the tire run, the cause of Santo's embarrassing fall. "How hard is it to run Vacarro? Have you been doing it for long? Let me demonstrate how it works. Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Repeat. This isn't rocket science we are dealing with here, dumbass." Santo wanted to point out that it was especially hard for him to get through this part of the course due to his large feet's tendency to get stuck in the small tires. But you didn't talk back to the Sarge. You didn't give him excuses. He didn't care. It would just get you in deeper trouble. So Santo took his verbal abuse, mixed with a few derisive slaps to his head that Santo privately believed hurt Sarge more than him. After the rant ended Santo took his place in the formation, standing at the attention with the rest of his squad. Now the entire company was getting the pleasure of hearing the Sergeant's severe disappointment in their efforts. "Get your daily ass-kicking?" whispered the fellow recruit on his left. It was Davies, Santo's little grey furred friend who bunked up above him. Santo grunted softly, not wanting to draw the attention of the Sarge back to him. "Yeah, well at least you got yours out of the way. I'm still wondering when mines going to c-" "Davies!" The beet red face of the Sarge turned towards him. "Are you talking in formation. I know you aren't talking in formation! Because nobody talks in my formation unless they want me to kick their ass all the way back up to the U. S. Is that what you want boy? 'Cuz I'll be happy to oblige..." The rest of Sarge's rant was lost to Santo as he fazed out, wondering for the seemingly millionth time if he should have just stayed home. |
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| Rockslide | Dec 26 2009, 09:27 PM Post #3 |
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July 8, 2009 21:39 Frontline: Undisclosed location Santo crept through the undergrowth, his finger lingering near the trigger as he peered through the darkness. His squad was fanned out to his left, some fleeting gracefully through the trees, others floundering along, doing their best to not get stuck in the muck. Santo was not in the second group, a surprise even to himself. He supposed he should give credit where it was due. His training, which he thought was hell at the time, had formed him into a top notch commando. He had been further hardened by the missions he had completed since graduating from training camp. He was beginning to think like a soldier, and he kind of liked it. Unfortunately the same sense of purpose had not been instilled in everyone. To Santo's immediate left paced Davies, a little chatterbox who was Santo's close friend as well as a constant complainer. His current beef was with the boots he had been issued, complaining about the way they fit his unique body structure. Santo studied his furry little friend. If one wanted to be crude they could easily compare the little mutant to an overgrown bat, sans wings. The little mutant also had claws growing off his hands and feet, hence his discomfort. "Davies," Santo interrupted the rant of his fellow soldier. "If you don't shut up about those boots I'm gonna pull them off you and stick them in your mouth." Santo loved the little freak but at times his mouth made Santo want to shove the little bat into a deep hole and leave him there. "Shit, Vacarro," Davies frowned. "I was just saying. You need to chill." "I'll chill when we get back to base camp," Santo retorted. "Too much can hide out in this damn jungle for me to be chill and I can't hear anything because of your complaining." "He's right," came the voice of there Sergeant as he joined them. "But both of you need to keep quiet. Don't forget to use your call signs either. I know it is a pain but its orders." Santo nodded curtly. Their CO had come up with the wonderful idea that they should use codenames while in the field in an attempt to confuse the enemy and foster pride in their mutant abilities. Santo agreed with Sarge in that it was a complete waste of time and a nuisance, but they were orders. Sarge continued, "We are going to regroup up ahead. We are too spread out and making too much noise for my liking." Santo joined the rest of his squad which consisted of twelve men. They were good men too; Santo would do anything for them. The bonds of brotherhood had been forged among them through the skirmishes and battles they had participated in together. Sarge waited until they were all gathered before he began talking. "We are getting close to our danger zone, boys. Psi squad picked up some signatures at approximately three kilometers from our current position. This little group of mercs has been raiding us for almost three months now and the big boys in the front office want it stopped. Quarry and Echo will take point." He gestured towards Santo and Davies. " The rest of you, fan out behind them and stay battle ready. These bastards could be anywhere." Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty, then hours. Santo and Davies led the way through the undergrowth. They saw nothing except for the native wildlife. They heard nothing except the sounds of the jungle. They entered a clearing and Davies halted, his head cocked to the side. "Echo?" Santo whispered hoarsely. "What is it?" Davies eyes widened. "Oh shit! Get back. Get back!" The undergrowth sprang alive with gunfire. Santo opened up with his own gun trying to determine where it was coming from. He heard someone behind him yell "RPG!" Santo looked up to see a streak of light, felt an impact on his chest, and then the whole world went black. |
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| Rockslide | Jan 6 2010, 12:29 AM Post #4 |
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Santo saw images; heard muffled voices. It was like he was underwater trying to see what was happening above the surface. He heard what sounded like distant screams and shouts but he couldn't focus in on what was happening. His mind was foggy, he couldn't focus. Then there was silence, interrupted by only rain falling, softly at first but growing into a steady torrent. Hours were minutes; minutes were hours. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, it seemed he was moving outside of time. The images began to come more frequently and Santo began to hear the rain and... feel it... and then it was like a hand reached down into the depths and pulled him up to the surface. He awoke sputtering rain water from his mouth. He reached up to wipe his face with his left hand and felt, nothing. He looked down in surprise to find that he had no left arm. He also saw that he had no left leg. Panic began to set in and he thrashed about wildly. He still had his right limbs and his right arm came into contact with a pile of rubble. Instinctively, he moved to where his left arm had been and watched in amazement as his arm seemed to re-graft into his arm. It took a few minutes for the process to become complete and he flexed his fingers hesitantly. This was new. He thought he was dead. Apparently he could take a rocket propelled grenade and still live. He just had to piece himself back together afterwards. Santo crawled around in the muck looking for the remains of his left leg. He felt around and his hand came into contact with wet... fur? Santo pulled back his hand, horrified. "Aw, shit," he muttered. He pulled himself up to look into the unseeing eyes of Davies. "Aw, man. Davies." Santo lamented. His friend was riddled with bulletholes. Trying to fight down the wave of sadness and disgust, Santo gently closed the furry mutant's eyes. He continued to crawl around identifying other members of his squad and piecing his leg back together rock by rock. With his leg back in place he checked for survivors and found none. He didn't find Sarge though. He found evidence of the militia's exit and it appeared they had a captive. He couldn't do anything about the others but maybe he could still save Sarge. (4 hours later) Santo looked down on the militia's camp. It hadn't been easy to track them, Santo had lost the trail more than once, but it was a large group of people and he eventually had found them. The layout was simple. It was a circular camp and there was a small fire in the center. There was a small group of mercenaries circled around near the fire. Santo guessed that that was where he would find his Sergeant. He heard cries of pain and the sick feeling in his stomach was confirmed. They were torturing him, probably for intel on where other squads were operating. Santo's fist clenched. A planner would have devised a stealthy way to enter the camp and steal back the captive. Santo was not a planner. He decided to use the only tactical advantage he had, the element of surprise. He broke out into a dead sprint, running straight at a sentry on the edge of the camp. The startled man had only time to yell and fire off a few wild shots before Santo was upon him, swatting him aside like a gnat. Santo barreled into two other mercenaries, grabbing one by the head and snapping his neck. The mercenaries, after the initial shock, began to scramble to fight back against the intruder. Gunfire smacked into Santo's chest but he paid it no mind. He methodically and cooly dispatched each soldier using a mixture of his combat training and natural instincts. One of his enemies shot off a rocket propelled grenade and Santo dived behind a jeep. He grabbed the burning wreckage of the jeep and threw it at the man, strangely satisfied by the sickening crunch. And then, as suddenly as it began it was over. Santo knelt beside his Sergeant. With a sharp intake of breath he studied his mentor. Where there had once been four strong arms there was four bloody stumps and his body, particularly his face was covered in severe burns. Santo gingerly picked him up. "It's okay, Sarge. I gotcha. You are going to be okay." Santo said beginning the long journey back to base camp. |
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| Rockslide | Jan 24 2010, 03:51 AM Post #5 |
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September 1st, 2009 Jus Soli Capital Santo shuffled through the streets of the proud mutant capital, not watching the path in front of him. He was given a wide berth by the civilians milling around him. Santo didn't know if it was because of his monstrous size or the JS uniform he wore that was either feared or respected, depending on the person, and he didn't care. It was the first leave he had taken since enlisting; it was the first time he had a reason for coming back. It truly was a magnificent city, the crown jewel of the most advanced country on the planet. But Santo wasn't looking. He didn't give a damn about the city, about Magneto, about all the people he fought for on a daily basis who didn't know it. There was currently only one thing he gave a damn about. Eventually he reached his destination. With a sigh he pushed open the metal gateway and trudged into the graveyard. There had been a push in the infancy of the nation to do away with burying the dead in favor of a more "advanced" approach like cremating to be more efficient. It never really took off as too many people clung to the traditions of being able to visit their loved ones once they had moved on into the afterlife. Most of the graves were military ones, whether by the war for JS independence or the current guerilla skirmishes. There were the occasional civilian graves, but Jus Soli had not been in existence long enough for the civilian deaths to balance the blood of the soldiers who fought for it. It was possible it never would, as half of the population seemed to be enlisted. Perhaps they were doomed to forever fight against humans, at least until their children eventually became the very thing they were fighting. That was of course if one believed all the sciencey mumbo jumbo the government scientists spouted off. After some searching, Santo finally found the grave he was looking for. Sitting down in front of the headstone, he pulled out a wooden box. "I hope you enjoy this you bastard," he remarked, snaking a cigar out of the box. He lit it and placed it on the grave before lighting one for himself. He took a few puffs. "They were expensive as hell. So smoke up." He sat in silence for a few moments. "You know," he contemplated aloud. "If I knew you were going to go out like you did I wouldn't have bothered chasing your ass through the jungle. You could have saved me a lot of trouble. Of course that's just typical you, huh? Always doing things the hard way. Well, except for when you decided to take things into your own hands." His voice cracked in anguish and Santo fought back tears. The doctors had managed to save Sarge's life, but had to amputate nearly everything. Sarge had decided that he couldn't and wouldn't live life like that. So he ended it. Santo cleared his throat and continued to talk. "Course, I don't think I could have seen you like that. All cooped up for the rest of your life." Santo reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "I know this brand is your favorite. Cheers." He dumped the bottle onto the ground except for the last sip which he downed himself. Not that it would affect him or anything. Santo chuckled hoarsely. "Remember how you would always try to talk to me about how great Jus Soli was and blab on about the politics? About how great the cause we were fighting for was? You always bought into it even when I didn't. You were the patriot. Not me. Look where that got us." Santo sat in silence for a while before getting up abruptly. "Take care of yourself, hardass. And wherever you are save me a seat. With the way things are going it shouldn't be too long until I'll be joining you." He turned and walked away. It was because of Sarge he had joined in the first place. Not because of allegiance to a man or country. Because Sarge had understood him. Understood that need to fight, to test himself against someone else in the greatest contest of all. So he would continue to fight for Jus Soli, continue to play the game for the game itself. And in a sick and twisted way that was the truest patriotism of all. -end thread- |
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1:02 AM Jul 11