Post by Deleted on Dec 18, 2009 14:56:54 GMT -5
The death letter...
We have found it, at last after so long searching, we have found it... The very nest of the vampire coven of this city. Revealed to us not by our patrols or the various interrogations I have both personally conducted and overseen when my time was somewhat more short. But rather by their own hand... An explosion, fortunately caught in one of the satellite sweep of the city. Upon closer examination the photos revealed the presence of a vast concentration of cold corpse signatures walking the grounds. Further satellite sweeps have confirmed that this is indeed the heart of the immortal enemy’s operations here in the city. It seems they were testing some kind of weaponised magnetic propulsion device. A crude imitation of the rail guns found mounted upon main battle ships in her Majesty’s navy.
I have proposed to Striker, rather than simply stamping the place flat with an orbital strike, with first insert and see how many immortal captives we can extract for our own purposes. This operation has two purposes. To bring us more immortals that I can break to my will and force to fight against their brethren for us and to ascertain whether or not this is truly the location we believe it to be. No sense in tipping our hand to the monsters too soon after all... City records extrapolated from the mayors planning committee designate this place as one Colgan Manner, a building that has stood for some centuries as the city grew up around and near it. Tax and utility records indicate suspicious activity in that not only has there never been a listed tax code for the mansion but also because the majority of power drain from the city grid occurs only at night...
The plan is simple. I shall insert with a platoon of Black Omega Soldiers, we shall go in and see what we can see as it were. Neutralise any sentries we come across and if the place crawls than we shall call in back up. Already I have the rest of Black Omega and the entirety of Delta White assembling in the APC bay ready to roll and Striker has his phantoms loaded aboard Super Six gunships ready to come down upon these creatures. In reserve of course we also have the Orbital Strike Cannon for if things get a little too hot the handle. While I am curious to see the thing in action. I am given pause by the eagerness Commander Striker displays in his willingness to deploy such a terrible weapon seemingly upon a whim. He is like a child with a new toy, sometimes he makes me worry...
The weapon has my vote if it pulls our arses out of the fire however... Let us hope though that Striker watches his aim, it is a well known fact and oft lamented, exactly how good American forces are at killing their allies. Friendly fire is a classic US Marines ploy after all... Enough of that though. I have never bothered keeping one of these journals before, I know some of the boys do, I read them sometimes, when they are gone, fallen in battle, as we go through their effects and redistribute them. I learn you see, a little something more about men I thought I knew...And I see to it that they are not forgotten... We have no families to go back to, no one to care for us but each other, we brave few of Black Omega. So what happens when we are gone and all we leave behind is dust and these words committed to paper...
I have no fear of death... That impulse was long ago removed from my psyche. But that does not stop me from asking what happens when I am gone... I have a feeling about this operation. The kind the men get from time to time when they think they are not going to be coming back. I have never felt that before, not once... How curious... Part of me relishes it of course, this new sensation. But part of me heeds it and so I write here upon the first and possibly last page of this book. Even more so than the men, I have no one. I will leave nothing but these words when I am gone...
If I should fall this night and rise no more. Firstly I would like my body to be cremated. I know that is against procedure and you have been ordered to return my body upon my death... But I do not like the idea of being dissected and preserved. It does not sit well with me is all... As for my personal effects and my death pay, see that they go to Colonel Sabriel Ashley, she will be in command should I fall this night. Also... Once a year, light a candle and say a prayer for me on this day once my ashes are scattered into the cold cold ground...
My time is short now; I can hear the call for operational deployment ringing outside my quarters. I go forth now to defend humanity from its enemies. Know that should I go to my death, I go to it willingly and I do not look back. For I regret nothing...
PS: To Sabriel.
Thank you. For everything.
OOC: Set before the final battle thread, while Davis was still human.
We have found it, at last after so long searching, we have found it... The very nest of the vampire coven of this city. Revealed to us not by our patrols or the various interrogations I have both personally conducted and overseen when my time was somewhat more short. But rather by their own hand... An explosion, fortunately caught in one of the satellite sweep of the city. Upon closer examination the photos revealed the presence of a vast concentration of cold corpse signatures walking the grounds. Further satellite sweeps have confirmed that this is indeed the heart of the immortal enemy’s operations here in the city. It seems they were testing some kind of weaponised magnetic propulsion device. A crude imitation of the rail guns found mounted upon main battle ships in her Majesty’s navy.
I have proposed to Striker, rather than simply stamping the place flat with an orbital strike, with first insert and see how many immortal captives we can extract for our own purposes. This operation has two purposes. To bring us more immortals that I can break to my will and force to fight against their brethren for us and to ascertain whether or not this is truly the location we believe it to be. No sense in tipping our hand to the monsters too soon after all... City records extrapolated from the mayors planning committee designate this place as one Colgan Manner, a building that has stood for some centuries as the city grew up around and near it. Tax and utility records indicate suspicious activity in that not only has there never been a listed tax code for the mansion but also because the majority of power drain from the city grid occurs only at night...
The plan is simple. I shall insert with a platoon of Black Omega Soldiers, we shall go in and see what we can see as it were. Neutralise any sentries we come across and if the place crawls than we shall call in back up. Already I have the rest of Black Omega and the entirety of Delta White assembling in the APC bay ready to roll and Striker has his phantoms loaded aboard Super Six gunships ready to come down upon these creatures. In reserve of course we also have the Orbital Strike Cannon for if things get a little too hot the handle. While I am curious to see the thing in action. I am given pause by the eagerness Commander Striker displays in his willingness to deploy such a terrible weapon seemingly upon a whim. He is like a child with a new toy, sometimes he makes me worry...
The weapon has my vote if it pulls our arses out of the fire however... Let us hope though that Striker watches his aim, it is a well known fact and oft lamented, exactly how good American forces are at killing their allies. Friendly fire is a classic US Marines ploy after all... Enough of that though. I have never bothered keeping one of these journals before, I know some of the boys do, I read them sometimes, when they are gone, fallen in battle, as we go through their effects and redistribute them. I learn you see, a little something more about men I thought I knew...And I see to it that they are not forgotten... We have no families to go back to, no one to care for us but each other, we brave few of Black Omega. So what happens when we are gone and all we leave behind is dust and these words committed to paper...
I have no fear of death... That impulse was long ago removed from my psyche. But that does not stop me from asking what happens when I am gone... I have a feeling about this operation. The kind the men get from time to time when they think they are not going to be coming back. I have never felt that before, not once... How curious... Part of me relishes it of course, this new sensation. But part of me heeds it and so I write here upon the first and possibly last page of this book. Even more so than the men, I have no one. I will leave nothing but these words when I am gone...
If I should fall this night and rise no more. Firstly I would like my body to be cremated. I know that is against procedure and you have been ordered to return my body upon my death... But I do not like the idea of being dissected and preserved. It does not sit well with me is all... As for my personal effects and my death pay, see that they go to Colonel Sabriel Ashley, she will be in command should I fall this night. Also... Once a year, light a candle and say a prayer for me on this day once my ashes are scattered into the cold cold ground...
My time is short now; I can hear the call for operational deployment ringing outside my quarters. I go forth now to defend humanity from its enemies. Know that should I go to my death, I go to it willingly and I do not look back. For I regret nothing...
PS: To Sabriel.
Thank you. For everything.
OOC: Set before the final battle thread, while Davis was still human.