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WARNING! May contain adult themes not suitable for children!

Theme music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugttDOui7Q8



Legacy of Power – Part II of the Journals of Commander Schauman

/V/akistan, Day 5 since D-Day
Journal of Commander Schauman


Islamabad, the Black City...

Islamabad. The City of Nightmares. The seat of the God Emperor Dio himself, thought by the Dioists to be unconquerable by any unbeliever.

This is where it all began, this is where it ends.

After days of fierce fighting we finally reached its gates. I can never forget the sacrifices we had to make during this journey, the good men we lost, and the countless horrors we had to endure...



(FLASHBACK!)

"Commander Schauman! Get up!"

The words echoed in my head like everything was a dream. A dream, I didn't want to wake up from.

I could see my house, a snow covered little cabin in the middle of the forest. Warm light shines from the windows, illuminating the house and its surroundings, serving as a beacon that guides me home through the darkness.



I step inside and I am greeted by the sweet odor of freshly baked Christmas cookies. My wife hears me coming in and runs towards me with open arms, smiling happily. I prepare to embrace her in a tight hug and...

"COMMANDER!".

My dream was interrupted by the same annoying and now more persistent, booming voice.

Suddenly I felt someone grabbing my chest and pulling my body upwards. Strong pain on my left cheek forced me back in to reality and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I saw the large frame of Marshal Ghishae, our Romanian reinforcement, looming over me, holding me in a sitting position with his left hand while preparing his right hand for another slap on my face.

”Honey, the beard really doesn't suit you...", I managed to utter to him in my still slightly confused state.

”Hah! Well, you better get used to it, 'dear'! I ain't gonna get a chance to shave until this town is secured!", responded Ghishae cheekily while taking my arm and helping me up. ”Come on, get up! Is okay! You just got hit by a Vaki suicide bomber dat got too close. Dracus getting desperate, man! Lucky for you the poor buggers can't afford any real explosives, eh?”

After regaining my consciousness and checking that my body didn't have any unwanted extra holes, my focus shifted to my aching cheek.

"I told you, not in the face...", I said to him in a slightly annoyed voice as we caught up with the rest of the team that had already entered the village.

"And I told you what body part I prefer to go for! Trust me, you would had liked it even less!”, Ghishae responded while laughing rather disturbingly.

I decided to drop the issue. There was no time for banter. We had a mission to finish. The retreating Vaki invasion force left behind lots of booby traps in the bordering Indian villages and cities. Our task was to clean the place and check if the civilians needed any medical attention and supplies.


The village or what was left of it

As we entered the village, I knew immediately something was off. It was too quiet. The whole village seemed eerie with its crumbling buildings, abandoned huts, and decaying fences. Most walls had bullet holes in them, and many houses had broken doors like they were destroyed by explosion shock waves or like they were kicked in.

A dirty, stuffed children's doll with a missing button-eye lies in the middle of the muddy street. I stop to pick it up and remembered how my wife and I talked about having children of our own one day. It seemed like such a distant dream...

”Yo, Marshal”, I said to Ghishae, "When did the Allies bomb this city? It's just rubble and ruins now..."

”They didn't...”, he responded, this time without a hint of his characteristic playfulness. ”This is all Vaki doin'...”

Puzzled by his words, I was about to ask what he meant by that but I was interrupted by a loud shout from the distance.

”JÄVLA HELVETEN! TITTA!”

It was our commanding officer, Misho. A Swedish volunteer. Brave old man. Joined the war to fight against the racist Vakistani regime that considered the Swedes an inferior species. He must had heard the rumors about the Vaki concentration camps and what they did to Swedes there. Nasty places if the rumors are true. The guy probably wanted a bit of payback.

We ran as fast as we could towards the direction of the shout. Turning from the corner, we saw the rest of the team at the village's main square, looking at an enormous statue of Dio erected in the middle of the square.

When we got closer, we too saw what had caused such anxiety to the usually cool tempered Misho. Our sprint immediately halted.

I fell to my knees, shocked by the macabre sight that opened before us. Even Marshal Ghishae, seasoned war veteran that had seen it all on his countless of campaigns, put his hand in front of his mouth, as if attempting to hold himself from vomiting.

”Son of a...", were the only words he was able to say beholding the sight.

”No...”, I cried out in complete disbelieve, a lone tear running down my cheek.

From the uplifted hands of the statue hang dozens of ropes, and at the end of each rope hang a dead Indian villager, swaying slightly in the blowing wind. Several villagers had been chained to the feet of the statue, stripped of their clothes. Their backs were full of bloody marks that seemed to have been caused by whipping. A large swarm of flies covered the entire scene, probably lured by the overwhelming stench.

”We can't stay here”, said Misho finally and tried to remain in control of the situation, "Our task here is done. Notify the HQ what has taken place here and call for a pick up. Lets move out"

With the initial shock passed, I scramble back to my feet with a lot of mixed emotions running through my mind. As I stood up, I saw something move in the corner of my eye. Due to my years of combat training, my body acted on reflex. I went for my gun and immediately pointed it in the direction of the movement.

It was a lone, black haired girl, apparently in her early twenties, dressed in rags, sitting on the muddy street. She had completely ignored us all this time though from where she was sitting she must had seen us. Instead of paying any attention to us, she seemed to be preoccupied by drawing something on the mud with the stick on her hand.


The girl

I walked closer to inspect the odd girl in hopes that she could tell us what had happened here. I stopped and knelt right in front of her. Still no reaction. Was she blind and deaf?

”What's your name, girl?”, I asked her in an attempt to get her attention

The girl kept on looking down like she was completely lost in her own inner world. I gently moved back the dirty hair hanging on her face in order to get a better look at her. The hair concealed behind it another atrocity committed by the Vaki regime: the word 'DIO' was carved on her forehead with a sharp knife. I allowed the hair to drop back in their original place.

I looked down to see what the girl was drawing on the mud. It was a phrase known by all members of the Dioists faith: 'TROLOLO'. It's the code they live by.

"Leave her", commanded Misho, "Her mind has been ruined. There's nothing we can do for her now."

Having heard the stories about Dioist indoctrination, I knew it was too late to save this soul. I reached in my jacket and pulled out the doll I had picked up from the street earlier and gave it to her. The girl took the doll and stared at it emotionlessly like she was trying hard to remember something. Finally, as if she realized something, her eyebrows rose a bit and she slowly embraced the doll to her chest. Stream of tears began to run down from her eyes down her still expressionless face.

We couldn't take her with us to where we were going. I never got to know what happened to her. Hopefully the Chinese or the Indians forces picked her up and gave her to a good home. Maybe she still sits there, looking at the mud with her blank eyes.



(END OF FLASHBACK!

Queue scene music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gxFGSCnD74

I stand on one of the many hills surrounding Islamabad. On it I have good view of the entire city.

Funny. The fundamentalist regime of /V/akistan always spoke of a gleaming metropolis of gold and ivory, a mecca of culture and knowledge, unmatched by any other city in the world. The view that opens before my eyes doesn't quite match that mentioned in the brochures: it's a flaming inferno with tall black towers, some of which have already been destroyed by the constant artillery fire and air raids. The landmark of the city, the 30 stories high bronze statue of Dio is blackened by smoke and is heavily damaged by the bombardment.

It is Hell in all senses of the word, inhabited by demons.

I, and the remains of the White Wolf team, prepare for the final push. Misho looks at the picture of his wife and kids for a moment before placing it gently in his front pocket, next to his heart. Then he resumed cleaning his service pistol from sand.

Ghishae, an unmarried womanizer, is checking the list of illegitimate children he might leave behind. Despite not wanting to marry their mothers, he still sends every military pay check to his children. Big man with a big heart. Now also finally with a shaved face, thank god.

Not many of us left anymore. Heroes have already given their lives for causes bigger than they could imagine. That wont console their families, though. Their loving, widowed wives, and their children that have to grow up without their father.

As I am adjusting my gear, my mind wanders back to the question I asked myself a long time ago when I first came to this desolate lan😛 what am I fighting for? The image of the blank eyed girl I met in the village flashes before my eyes. I confidently load my assault rifle for one last time. I know the answer now.

I fight for hope.

(ROLL CREDITS)