Despatche #001

Day 4,317, 16:28 • Published in Ireland Japan • by Violence Seth





1.1: General Mercédesz Vesszős, Goshawk

The Hellfire Club was instantly disappointing. I expected an odd, exciting twisted castle but just found a squat old ruin hardly visible in the haze of the light misty rain. I had a regular take my things to my tented quarters. Par for course Commander Lange had already arrived. He was probably a day early the spineless fool. He’d his own regulars rushing this way and that. I marched up the windy stairs to make contact. “Mercedes! How was your flight?” Such a contemptible man. “It’s General Mercédesz Vesszős, be so informal with me again and we’ll have another problem to deal with Base Commander Lange.” He nodded pathetically. The grey stone ruin had been made into a command centre, Comms, Radar even telescopes. The place was stuffed. “Please if you’ll follow me General, we’ve much to discuss.” G*d he offered his limp hand. I of course denied him and demanded to know where we where to go in this ancient, creepy site. He led the way with a gesture, his face plain and his spirit further culled. What a total slave.


1.1 Miss Tiny, Zilch Unit

I had a choice. Goshawk, Rasa Blank or some Jail somewhere. I’d heard Rasa were accepting the runtish, slovenly Civs as members. I simply couldn’t abide a Civ without a collar ‘round their necks. Doppler, the clean ‘Commander’ of Zilch Unit made it clear in his oddly plain way that we’d have to do some damage on these wild Civ loving Rasa folk, orders from upon high, yadda yadda... I admit I was a bit torn. As a woman in a large man's body, opportunity knocked with Rasa’s sudden and rapidly expanding libertine ethos, but I’d never be able to hammer home the truth, my truth, in their fanciful world where everyone gets along with one another. Nah, we’re here to, I mean we’re here to do… Oof, yeah damage. Red as a rose. I elected myself as Leader and only Doppler voted against me, the others would remain behind. I’d do things my way. We took to the Dublin streets at sundown, made camp in a hollow house and I crept onwards to Liberty Hall alone.


1.2 Commander Niklas Lange, Goshawk

“I’ve sussed out a plan Sir” The General looked at me with totally honest disgust. “We’ll take their Militias insignia. Their armbands. It’ll be easy. The Dublin Brigade wear light blue armbands and the ELF left in Dublin wear navy. If we strike quick we could have our troops in position before they know it.” I was so tired, this would be my last command, I’d been disrespected to the point of making my station seem inoperable. That tart Mercedes wasn’t going to make things easy though. “I propose a better idea, we storm the base at 04:00 local time. Rasa Blank probably don’t even have a man sober enough to wait that long into the night.” There was a static silence. “Morning, it’s morning at 04:00 Mercedes, you dolt. Lange has full command. I’ll have you both executed if you fail. Don’t try this Comm line again if you haven’t taken Liberty Hall.” We both rhymed a “Sir, yes Sir.”

Mercedes had gone totally red in the face. I gave her the slightest of smiles. “Oh shut up, you rent boy, you have work to do no?” I did indeed. I ran the Comms as Goshawk took the Dublin Brigade and ELF’s armbands, quiet as a girls opinion and just as deadly. Blue and Navy respectively. I ordered them to take positions. If this was going to work we’d only another hour tops before Rasa Blank caught on to us. General Mercedes just looked on at me as I was scrambling with three, four calls at a time. A line came through, foreign to our link. “I’m inside, third floor. Watch out for me.” It was a huge man dressed in a… well a lady’s dress. “Copy that.” I responded. I’d thought Ms. Tiny was a battlefield myth, a joke to entertain and scare Military folk around the campfire. Knowing he, or she was actually real terrified me to the marrow. When Mercedes asked about the call I simply handed her command. I didn’t know where to go. I panicked. I was a stranger in a strange land. Antarctica perhaps?


1.1 Prof. Johannes Hannes "Ratel" le Roux, Rasa Blank

I'd dreamt about running a Donut shop but the donut customers kept demanding more and more, so much that I couldn't keep up. I woke up to a six foot seven inch man wearing a red dress and swinging a hammer on a rope. I countered his first strike with a Comm Console that burst into bits. Then an office chair. I thought this was it, I was getting murked, or snuffed as Blackie would say oh so casually. No. I held up a plate of the office chair just in the knick of time. This mad hairy, dress wearing person wanted me dead. No! Not a chance. I took a keyboard and smashed it over his head. Keys burst into the air like confetti. He backed off and started swinging the hammer about wildly. I guarded myself from the onslaught with my right arm. When it hit it hurt. It landed and shattered my bones. It hurt like a son of a bi-, well you know. It was painful. Oddly enough this hairy beauty queen started running off like I'd the upper hand. I thought there must have been a bomb. I ran to the fire alarm and cracked the glass with my left fist. We were under attack. Everyone was needed. Donuts and a murderous psycho in a red dress. My mind still hadn't caught up. The alarm rang deafeningly. That woke me up proper. I looked at my right arm. It was effed, purple-blue and already limp. What an assh*le. She never even told me her name. Men are such pigs.


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