Conscript 76-Alpha.

[rabbit]

I figure I'd write this in case I was going to survive this shit. So as an introduction, my name is Joseph Aguilar, formerly Sergeant Aguilar of the 75th Ranger Regiment's Regimental Reconnaissance Detachment attached to SOCOM's Invasion of Iraq.

Tasked with a mission to help secure further advances of Coalition forces I led a team with a Lieutenant from 3rd Battalion into a staging ground for an invasion of a closed in city. By the time I write this, I'll forgotten whatever the fuck it is I was heading to. And honestly it's better that way. No one gives a shit beyond that anyway.

No one gives a shit about us.

Conscription or death, I had to choose that between not knowing if Kelsey would be forced to live in a shithole world ruled by aliens. So I chose the one choice I could. To be fair it wasn't much of one when I was held up and told to choose. Two uniforms: White or Camo - I looked real fucking good in those BDUs too. Had to hand it to these fucks, they at least knew how to fabricate some of what we had with efficiency.

I was gifted an M60, took whatever rank and file I had and stripped it away from me. I was born again. I was told to go and kill whoever it is I was told to.

---

Loyalty.

It's been 3 years and there has been a lot of killing. Lots of aliens, things that I couldn't have dreamt of. And yet we're side by side with our invaders, acting like what we're doing is for the betterment of mankind. It's hard work and long hours but I'm still in the same place I was a few years ago. Well, Saudi Arabia if I'm really honestly, I think I'm in what used to be Dubai?

Anyway, the job's changed a bit since I last took up posting, they promoted me to Sergeant now. I'm in charge of a total of six people, sometimes the other six minus the fucktard Sergeant they put me with. Some Airforce cat, Maintainer of some kind, the kind that's better with a wrench than he is a fucking rifle. Never the less I got a letter form Kelsey. Said that she went into the Conscription service too to try to get a few extra rations by helping coordinate or something.

To me it sounds like she's going the fast track for a desk job. Really, I can't complain, the amount of aliens they have us killing is beyond insane. I almost feel bad for them if they didn't keep killing every Infantryman I'm tasked to lead.

I ended up having to trade my Pig for a M4. No optic, just a PEQ and a bunch of questions asked. I'd trade it in for something heavier, stronger hitting, if I'm honest. Dumping five rounds into a Houndeye's beyond me anymore.

Loyalty to the Union, they keep preacher. Eventually they'll turn us into more - whatever the fuck that means. Either way I'm doing this for Kelsey. As long as she's safe, sated, and safe. Safe twice.

I'm being called to arms, some Operation coming up.

---

Operation VULOS.

I've been operating as a Conscript for years now and further more I attained the rank of Lieutenant with the command team of a support-by-fire element. Kelsey managed to also attain Lieutenant which is a bit of fresh air and yet I haven't had proper correspondence with her. Rebellions began to surface as a result of the Universal Union's occupation. Some such city I was supposed to go to got swept up by a Tsunami and now I'm stuck in the desert for another few years.

Heard they're building The Citadel in City 17. Apparently there's a whole thing going on there. I'm not aware of anything yet and I didn't get an intel brief so it's more than likely positive.

I'll have to send a message to Kelsey and tell her I might have enough credits to buy my transfer to her.

---

We lost a majority of our scouting forces and our battle line is scattered. The Insurgents, Anti-Citizens, whatever you want to call them dug in and had the terrain advantage. It wasn't until we were engaged did Airwatch deny a Chopper due to a sandstorm incoming. First time in a while that happened but these weren't abnormal. It was assured to me that we'd have air support. They dug in and we dug in, waiting for the sandstorm before we brought our new tech goggles. Thermals worked like a charm, night vision brought light in darkness, and our OICWs finally had a surplus of ammo to engage these fools.

---

And then, midway through my tour I'd take a kick to the balls and a knee to the teeth. Each of our newly issued equipment with all kinds of optics, night vision, even some of our grenade launchers were taken from our kits. We were given back our old gear, some of us rocked M16s from my first time, others probably got less than what we had. More Insurgent strongholds were coming to an end.

Even still we made everything work. No Airwatch, no Skywatch, nothing. We were sent in blind, relying on our own operations and logistics to figure out whatever it is we're witnessing. It took the lives of way too many for my own liking. The world itself churned over by our explosives, the color no longer prevalent as all that was there was upturned dirt and dust from the buildings we blew up. Red scattered in streaks and the carcasses of dead men and women, some children. It's a sickening sight but the fact of the matter is this: It is either them or me. And I have to make it back home to Kelsey.

A decade and a month and days, I still think about her. The picture in my plate carrier just over my heart is the only thing I have of her not including the letters. I feel each bone splintering under my skin, each wound I obtain wearing my spirit.

But I will not surrender. I must survive.

---

Operation Vulos was a complete success and I have the fallen to thank for that. Never had I imagined I'd be killing simple people trying to make a living outside of enslavement. There has never been animosity between me and them but the more I think about it the more I grow to become more jealous of their freedom, despite it being a mirage of it. To be happily indoctrinated in an opposing cause that for what came to at first become a tyrannical overlords became a bit more selfless in not completely committing our species to genocide.

Yet I see why they do it. It's human nature to fight. Every night I spend awake, I cannot help but feel as though the limitation of my own form could be bettered by whatever proposed future they think for us. I heard rumors of augmented Soldiers to bolster our ranks soon enough. A new knee would be pretty nice now that I think of it. Perhaps even a few right hand considering I'm feeling arthritis at the age of 32. At least I think I'm 32, I can't keep track of the days anymore. I just get OPORDs and the occasional mission report from what is likely weeks in advance.

To be fair I also can't allow myself to dwell on those days long past. I have to pretend to be as gung-ho as I once was. I have to keep pretending to be okay with what I'm doing. I'm killing my own kind along with aliens now, who am I to be allowed any room for critique? What if I'm more of a monster than any of these augmented units they send?

Doesn't matter. Kelsey's all I got left.

That has to matter more, right?

---

Operation Vulos II has commenced and I gotten word that I was to conduct an assault on an underground citizen encampment outside of City 42, near Tehran, Iran. I've been there before and I doubt it will be the last time. We're given the best equipment I've been issued in a while. Everyone's outfitted with proper Kevlar and Brain Buckets, proper sticks, grenades even. I've outfitted everyone to the best of my ability but I can't help but think this extra ammunition's going to go to the heads of my men. I'm a Lieutenant now, I'm supposed to take care of my fellow men - these Conscripts who some are younger than the age I enlisted at. Most of them are scared shitless, the others are just as worried as I am about what we'll be fighting with down there.

I can't get word to Kelsey. Not even my letters are being replied to and I can't help but worry. Never the less I'm writing this under the lens of a camp lamp.

I'm fucking tired of this shit.

---
Operation Vulos II has come to an end due to my inability to act as the Combine's genocidal arm. Aliens were one thing, Houndeyes, Headcrabs and those Zombies, down to the Vortigaunts. I'm more than willing to charge those nests with nothing but an empty M16 and my Bayonet but people without guns? They couldn't pay me to kill those without the ability to defend themselves.

I was reprimanded down to Sergeant and was placed in some Penal institution. They allowed me my journal probably to be able to write more and gather evidence. Unlucky for them, I write like dogshit. Get fucked, assholes.

Turns out Kelsey made her way up to Captain and was earmarked for something bigger. She even went as far as to use her maiden name which shows just where her allegiances are. I can't say I'm too surprised but I hoped I was wrong. I wanted to be wrong. Or maybe I was wrong all along.

Of our own accord.

I hope they kill me slow. I deserve it.

---

I'm being reassigned to Patrol Group 8. I don't have a clue what the fuck they're still keeping me around. I was completely demoted, taken all rank and ensignia from me which is for the best. They put me on the Machinegun which made more sense to me than keeping me at a higher attainable rank. There aren't many of us Conscripts left. Anni is here. Or is it Annie? I don't know how to spell her last night. Animosiva or some shit. I'm beyond lost here. She's my new Commanding Officer second to some shithead Lieutenant that didn't even show up.

I'm told that we're supposed to find some people that escaped Workcamp 14. They're a bunch of kids who thought that killing a bunch of RuralPol divas and a couple of Overwatch Soldiers makes them an actual threat to society. I can't say I'm happy to find out my first assignment's to grave these assholes but it's been too many years in the Penal Units. I don't care anymore.

Let me kill as many as it'll take to kill the others. Let my death stand as a shield so the other Connies can go live a few more days.

Let it be awesome.

---

I've been taken in by these people. They took Katya and I've been sneaking secret patrols to make sure they didn't hurt her. By a chance encounter (Haha, I made a fucking pun) I met SGT Vice. At least he was a Sergeant from the Regiment back in the day. I remember there being some sort of a chaotic mishap before I thought his C-17 went down. I'm glad he's alive though for how long is beyond me. I can't document everything otherwise I'd probably end up on their shitlist.

They're scrappy, unorthodox, and yet people I can't help but feel as a breath of fresh air. They killed some of my own but honestly it was probably for the best. I killed at least five of them the other day, got a nasty leg wound that they gave me. Either way people got shot. Fuck it.

New day, same page. Anyway, I'm part of their group now. I figure Kelsey's probably pissed but better she get transferred out of here. I'm not really keen on having to kill her when the time comes. And if it does come, I want the chance. Whether it's to persuade her away from this bullshit or to put her down if I can.

Can I? Can I really do it?

Only time can tell. I'm following these batch of assholes to Moscow. As far as I'm concerned I'll be square with them once I make the world a little less... Universal. (Another pun, I am on fire this week).

P.S.: Get Katya to loosen up.

P.P.S.: I got to get Ally, Aleid, I like Ally better... anyway, I got to get her something special. Give her something worth more than just the Mango or Chocolate Snus. Honestly, that shit's about as romantic as it gets, if I'm honest. Shit, she's got my eye and she's a smarter bunch than the regular folk.

Also I really need an optic on my M14. Shit's great but damn do these engagements come out to a distance.

 

[rabbit]

Loose Pages Slip from the Book. Anyone reading wouldn't know where in the chronology this would be.

---

There's this one girl that reminds me of this Rebel in Iran. She's a former cop so that's a big difference between them. She knew how to rock a weapon even if she's practically the same height. Smart, fast, quick with her wits. I'm a little upset I never got to actually learn more about the Muslim People. Well, I learned that dipping bullets in pig fat might keep them from their afterlife, but that was as far as it really went.

Mom was a Muslim form what I could tell. She died when I was real young so that's as far as my person lineage came with it. All there was for me now was to slowly learn.

To each their own, I guess? Never the less there's a lot of dumb shit happening now that I can't fathom. I watched this woman laid out, sucking in her own blood and where she should have died Katya and I saved her.

Oh, Katya, you're practically there for me. But I feel like you're very closed off and I need to respect that. I don't want to hurt you, derail whatever's there already. That's where I wish I could tell you what I feel. Either way, there is one thing I can say for certain: You know me better than I know myself.

Hell, as imperfect as you are, there are many things imperfect about me. I hope I did my best with you. I still watch you play Soldier like I do whenever I'm on patrol. I see you're struggling to be around these people. I want you happier, more than just a Conscript, a Soldier, a killer. I need you to learn how to live the life I can't seem to grasp.

Of our own accord, we'll learn.

---

Lucas Leavitt, "Leave It to Lucas," a catchphrase that'll piss him off until he realizes I don't mean for it to be a jab.

He's a strong leader but weak in his ability to let emotions cloud his judgement. A trait he and I will constantly have but also find disagreement upon.

So really, I want to leave this page open and hopefully I'll either be alive long enough to finish it and give it to the man or he'll find it himself.

Lucas, you need to learn to compartmentalize yourself and the people around you. This "Red Peril" business accosted many things. But that said, your group pushed her, made her feel less than she is. At least a handful did. After Chance's supposed death, capture, whatever, I think that was really where you found your footing.

But these merry band of dogooders will never understand what it took for you to do what you did. You are a strong man, powerful and mighty but your hubris comes from the very thing that keeps you strong. That's hope, hope that one day something will happen.

Hang onto that hope and let the experiences you attain guide you.

And after that, learn to let all of this go. You'll have your final, defining moment, you'll learn that at the end of the day no one will acknowledge all you've sacrificed. Only the carefully chosen few.

There's an old saying, Sua Sponte, I often use it because it makes sense for the Insurgent and Conscript types. It means, "Of our own accord," or, "Of their own accord."

People need to volunteer for this shit. For the most part, they have but let them know that they're also a bit appreciated. That kind of shit gets them going.

Finally, remember that everyday you lead these rejects to society, you volunteer to put their lives on the line and to protect them to the best of your ability. You will not save everyone as you've already learned. But learn this: You should not lose sleep for another's mistake or choice.

One day I'll make a final choice and that day may come soon. You will have to carry on your own legacy. I have already made mine.

Until that day...

 

[rabbit]

My Will, in the event of an untimely death to the Combine or by a woman with an ass too big for me to handle:

• Give my 1911 to any children I could potentially bare. Well, if it's only one, if not then have them fight bare knuckled. Winner gets my 1911, the rest can get whatever other shit I may have.
• Have a full, military honors, burial in Arlington Cemetery. I don't care if it's teeming with Xenians or Combine or whatever make it fucking happen. The biggest things to remember: Ranger Scroll, Ranger Tab, Reconnaissance Tab, Pathfinder, Global War on Terrorism, Medal of Honor, Bronze Star. Everything else can eat a dick, too.
• I want my friends to drink an entire bottle of Whiskey, at minimum of value equal to that of Johnny Walker Black, upwards to whatever the most expensive Whiskey is. If Whiskey is extinct, figure it the fuck out. I'm dead so do me that honor.
• Potentially spread my ashes on a fat pig (chicken for my Muslim Counterpart) and have people eat my ashes so they can feel me as a pain in their ass one last time.
• Shoot my coffin twice with a .45 ACP, then riddle it with 7.62 from a beltfed to ensure I am truly dead. I've seen some gnarly reanimations in my time and I refuse to be a retarded zombie. DESTROY THE FUCKING COFFIN IF YOU HAVE TO. ADD SOME 40MM HE ROUNDS IF YOU CAN SPARE IT.
• Any remaining Rangers should be in attendance but it is not mandatory; it is highly recommended. After all, we'll pathfinder to another battleground.
• Name a city after me. Something really ghetto, low-income, and violent. Josephville or some shit.

 

[rabbit]

Today marks the first day for a true, freer world. Lunatic stated that there'd be an assault around the world. City 17 has started its assault through insurgent tactics and soon enough the Moscow Resistance Cell with the help of many would begin,

Hotchkiss is coordinating from her side how we're going to go about the assault on multiple fronts. Good woman, smarter than she wishes to let on but then again Cops are rarely given such graces. Demitra stated it plainly but accurately: There is a ring of steel that surrounds the world we are fighting in. Overwatch Soldiers replaced the Metropolitan Forces due to what I can surmise to be their betrayal against the Universal Union. But if it was me, I'd have sent more, destroyed more, killed more.

Such things are never beneath me. I have killed so many people that I'm genuinely afraid to let my gun down. I do not know if I'm able to become normal after all of this. I've stopped acting serious around the group. As much as they've accepted me I'm still an outcast. When I lay down on some deserted rooftop, the guard posts, and even the various assaults I cannot help but feel outcasted again.

Maybe I'm not meant to travel with a group, a unit, anymore. I grow tired and angry. My bloodlust is only fueled by the fact that there are those who mean harm to these people, my new family. I killed Kelsey myself. I didn't want to but it was either her to my brother. And I chose him and I'll continue to choose him. He never gave up on me when she did. Chance Vice, brother. Frank Winters, brother. Katya Anisimova, I don't know where we stand.

I really wish I can work up the nerve to tell you why I don't know what your label is to me because there's another I wish I could give you.

Really, there are a few, I'm too afraid of truly letting myself go for. I'm unable to release my vulnerability and let myself become the man I wanted to be when my contract was finished. I wanted to just enjoy life, music, being free. But any time I'm outside of my Kevlar or without my rifle, I feel empty and without a path forward.

It's what I fear at the end of this Insurgency. I've forgotten how to be happy without a drink or drug. I'm afraid that if I let myself stay sober I'll return to who the Union made me.

Am I any different from the Overwatch Soldiers if they hadn't augmented them? I've killed so many that perhaps I was more of a weapon to them than they are. What happens when people realize that? Or fail to realize it until I'm in front of them with a rifle in hand?

I already killed one. I killed one to add on to what I estimate to already be in the half-thousands.

There's this song that lingers in the back of my head that the former resistance cell had playing through speakers. It went, "I'm at war with the world and they try to pull me into the dark. I struggle to find my faith as I'm slipping from your arms. It's getting harder to stay awake and my strength is fading fast." I want to believe that this Insurgency is for the good but I jumped at it with the chance (with the what?) to step forward and kill the things that replaced me and my kind. That betrayed us after promising redemption.

She betrayed me. She blamed me. So I killed her.

I killed her.
I killed her.
I killed her.

Death do us part, Kelsey Smith. Formerly Aguilar. Captain, USAF, UU Conscript Force, Killed in Action.

I don't regret it. I pity you, Kelsey. I envy you. You shot me. I didn't die. I shot you. You're dead. I wish I can do it again. I wish I could do it with my hands.

I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate all of you.

I'm going to kill you all.

I will find where your leaders are. I am going to destroy the Universal Union. I am going to kill Loyalists.

I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.

[The rest of the pages are written plans and notations that only the Worksite Resistance Group can truly understand. It labelled out various formulas written and re-written over and over again with revised methods.]

[Then the drawn picture of a short haired woman, sporting a baseball cap and headset can be seen. Over the picture were scrawled lines as if to cross it out of his mind.]

I'm losing it again. I'm so fucking angry.

Today is the big battle.

Sua Sponte. Sine Pari.

To Get:

• .45 ACP
• 5.56mm NATO Rounds
• 7.62 NATO
• More RPG Warheads.
• Hair dye? - Apparently she needs a touch up so I guess that makes sense.
• Whiskey
• Weed