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Dr. Y. Assoulay's Notes: Another tormented soul left behind in Fogarthy's wake. I found out about him through a friend loosely associated with Italy's Intelligence Service. He'd been captured near Nova Gorica by Italian Special Forces and judging by some field reports I managed to get my hands on, he had developed a haunting reputation throughout the Slovenian Littoral Region as the Nočný Mäsiar or Night Butcher. I had him flown here for treatment as a Civ via a FYROM held airstrip in Norfolk, England. The other soldiers are weary of him so I thought I'd send him on field exercise after he recovered from his surgery. No one volunteered to go with him at first but when Winters heard about it he offered to go, in earnest. I haven't had the time to fully evaluate the damage Fogarthy has inflicted on this young man but he seem's bright, athletic and capable. Forgarthy's chip has been removed so now all we can do is wait to see how he performs out on in field.

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Liberty Hall, Dublin, Ireland
Day 4141, 13.20 eRT

It feels strange to have to speak into this odd device, this "comm-link" but Dr. Assoulay was pretty much insistent on it. He said it would focus my memories and help ease the terrors of the past few months. So here it goes. I'd some geeky looking guy called Winters with me on the mission. They said he could shoot a man from a mile away. He never said a word on the way to Dublin, he just squirmed in his seat like he needed to have a piss. We had to avoid the border so we took the scenic route. Ireland is quite beautiful in a mournful, melancholic way.

Dublin is pretty much like any other city I've seen, perhaps a bit grayer. Urchins fill the streets begging and Civs clamor on with their jobs, filling the holes left by airstrikes, fixing the pipework, bartering bread and gin. Nothing new, yet oddly exotic. The escort dropped us off about an hour and a half away from Liberty Hall. It was imposing on the skyline, like an evil tower from a fairy tale. Winters led us through the winding streets towards our look out spot in an old office block. He still looked like he needed to piss.

He calibrated his impressive looking sniper rifle and handed me a pair of binoculars. "There" he whispered over the comm-link, pointing to the bottom of the tower. I scanned about but it was blurred. He snatched them off me, he configured them almost without looking and placed them on the ground. I picked them up and he audibly sighed. I looked through again. I could spot a team of what looked like mercenaries, faces covered and all. Parked near the construction site there was one, two.. seven armored military transport vehicles with an odd Geometrical looking Hawk on the side of each truck.



"To your left" whispered Winters through the comm-link. I looked to the left extreme of the building. There was a group of construction workers on scaffolds, half working, half loitering. Whoever attacked this building really meant business. "What am I looking at?" I said, pitching out the comm-link, nearly deafening Winters. He nearly screamed. I laughed but he he didn't seem to find it funny at all. It's a good thing he didn't shoot his rifle out of instinct in hindsight. Clearly annoyed he pointed to a cache-box in the corner of our dingy hide out. Inside there where construction workers clothes and tools, two scanner passes and a toolbox full of comm-link interceptors. No weapons. We got into costume silently then left our weapons in the cache-box.

I could get a sense of why he was so edge as we approached the building dressed as Civ construction workers, completely unarmed. We came to the North Bridge blockade and showed our scanner passes. We almost got through until some little shit of a Provost demanded to know what section we where working on. Winters listed off our schedule like a poem, near and dear to his heart. The little Provost checked for confirmation on his comm-link and with a wink and nod we where in. I gotta say, Winters was starting to impress me.

We got to work planting the comm-link interceptors around the building. No one bothered us, which made me feel kind of paranoid. As we worked our way upstairs I motioned to Winters that enough was enough, we'd nearly every room done so we shouldn't push our luck any further. He ignored me and went straight to the top floor. Two of these mercenary types stopped him, marked with the same weird hawk insignia as the military police outside. The crazy bastard gave them a ferocious attitude, saying Captain Someone would be furious and they let him in. I stayed on the stairwell waiting for gunshots. He breezed right out of there like he owned the place and we where off.

We crossed the South bridge and doubled back for our equipment. No joke, Winters set his gun up again, and as I asked why he kept saying he'd something to take care of. I picked up the binoculars and looked around. Everything had gone off perfectly as far as I could see, then BAAM! A shot went off that nearly deafened me. I was dazed by the sheer noise. I looked down at the North Bridge blockade and the young Provost was nearly blown in half, with guards scrambling around him in a obviously vain attempt to save him. "That's pay back for the comm-link rookie" Winters said petulantly towards me. I must admit I was shocked. He nodded towards the stairs and we made our way down into the streets, off towards the convoy as a light sleet blew in and the street lights flickered on.

Our convoy left us a mile or two away from the airstrip. It was some run down place the Russians abandoned months ago south of Dublin. I asked Winters why he'd almost compromised the mission just to blow up that young Provost with his insane rifle. He didn't answer, which was extremely irritating. So I stopped walking and demanded to know. He just kept walking. I met him at the airfield, explained our "situation" in Italian to the station guards and got Winters out of his holding cell. I decided it wasn't question time and led him to an abandoned but functional fighter plane the Russians had left behind.

Once we where in the air I needed all my senses about me. I knew how to fly but this thing was a relic and the sleet from before was turning into a storm. As I adjusted our altitude to the on coming winds out of nowhere Winters whispered into the comm-link "I think he knew my face". I was almost banking this piece of shit plane to avoid getting wiped out by the turbulence. I just responded with "Okay, good." then set the plane level. I was so relieved to get out of that chop, the wind screamed through the windows. "I was going to kill you too."

I heard him but said nothing, resting on the fact the plane was now cruising. We where almost back to home base and the sky was fairly clear so I nose-dived the plane for a more concrete explanation. "Sorry friend, I thought you said something like you were going to kill me?". He screamed at the sudden drop. "No! No! No! I thought you where one of them, stop! Please!". I slowly pulled back to position, we where about to land anyway. "One of who?" I asked, tilting a bit. "Goshawk! The guys in Liberty Hall." I faded back into course and landed.

We tarped the plane and made our way down the rocky trail to our cliff side base. We tried our cards but the Vault door was closed and we didn't have the equipment to go spelunking so we waited a while, I thought we must have had a shut out period between landing so we wouldn't be found. Winters sat near the cliff edge, vacantly looking at the night sea. I didn't want to interrupt him so I went to the plane to make this "recorded" comm-link.

Update, according to Winters this guy "Murph" has found out "Petrov" is still alive and "Sean" is with him through the comm-link interceptors we'd planted earlier. That's why Winters and I are locked out, because he's having a fit in there. Well, it's been a long day, I'm gonna take a nap in the cockpit of this Russian Junker. It is fairly cosy to be fair. Fuck Winters, I'm sure he can figure something out, the creepy freak. Okay, hope this helps Dr. Assoulay. Private Esposito, 2nd Regiment, Rasa Blank. Over and out.



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Character Creation of Da'mor Esposito by Monster Grinder