FINALLY, THE WHOLE THING! Here you go, everyone. Made a few changes here and there, nothing really major though. EDIT: I just realized this isn't as funny as I wanted it to be. Fuck. And also Brennon is too calm and collected and not, well, trolly enough. Then again, this IS an alt universe where he outsmarted Kiel, so... Yeah.
Now this is a story about how my life got flipped, turned upside down. It'll only be a second, just sit right there, and hear about how I killed a rouge member in CYStia...el-air. In a city called CYStia, not born nor raised, in an apartment was where I spent most of my days. See I was chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool, browsin' memes when I should be at school, when a couple of soldiers, who I knew were cool dudes, starting walking through my neighborhood. They came to my door and I got real scared, then they said "you're going on a mission to kill some dude named Brennon." ... In Bel-Air.
One unnecessary Fresh Prince of Bel-Air sing-along later and they were briefing me about Brennon. He was a new member who had slowly descended into trolling, until now he was a top threat. He attacked the Lounge with a porn bomb, but has always slipped away before being executed. He was insane, and reportedly had a bunch of crazy people to defend him. I asked if it was anyone that I would know, and they said there were two: Private Jimmy Sutton and Ryder, who had lied about being reformed only to begin another trolling streak. Well, being a cat-fucking creep streak. The rest were just an army of red shirts who didn't even exist.
It had been five years since Brennon famously distracted Kiel, just as Kiel was about to thrust his sword into Brennon's chest. Kiel survived the battle, being promoted to Senior Mod for his efforts and now ruling in a conference room rather than the battlefield. Following Brennon's attack on the Lounge and Kiel's failed assassination attempt, a war broke out between CYS and Brennon and his crazed followers. They occasionally bomb the city with pr0n bombs. The only reason it hasn't ended sooner is because the natives keep the army at bay. It helps that Ryder was one such native before heading into society, so that way they aren't attacked.
Kiel had sent me a letter with the soldiers, with only one sentence: 'Terminate with extreme prejudice.' When Brennon rebelled, Jimmy, Ryder, and a couple of low-life trolls joined him. They went deep into the Heart of CYS, which became more savage and untamed the closer you were to it. The center, where Brennon's base was, was full of ruthless natives who would murder without hesitation and eat the corpses after. I was going straight in there on a PBR, along with four others who were the ship's crew.
They gave me a night before I was gonna head off. After getting drunk, doing some weird shit, punching a mirror then crying to myself, all while The End by The Doors was playing in the background, I was ready. The next morning I was up and ready at the docks, meeting the crew of the PBR. There were Privates Mason and Zag, two newfags who've only been here a little over a year. There was also Warrant Officer Tim, my old friend and bunkmate back at boot camp. He lagged behind a bit, despite being several years my senior; both in age and in how long he had been training in the military. Then there was Captain Steve. I knew him from around the base, but I never really talked with him. He, of course, was captaining the boat.
Steve and I were the only people who knew what the mission was; the others were told we were on some sort of recon mission, scouting out the area near the heart for a spot to set up a potential checkpoint. I think they had their doubts, but compared to Steve and I, they were merely grunts, so they didn't have proper clearance.
We began our journey up-river, into the heart of darkness, unbeknownst of the horrors and atrocities we would witness... Like the fact that I was probably gonna butcher the dialouge with a shitload of narm, and the horrible attempts at humor I would make in the narrative. And that's not even mentioning the typos and grammar mistakes...
The boat sailed up the river, passing the first check point. We were leaving the limits of CYS City. Beyond this, the only nods to civilization were military checkpoints that stopped half-way up, where the natives lost their humanity and became mindless savages. About a quarter of the way through there was a stage, mainly for concerts and occasionally... 'Shows' from Playboy Bunnies, if the money was around and the war was going good enough.
So we sailed down the CYS River, passing a number of other PBRs. We eventually came across our first battle, along the shoreline. The land was cleared out, most likely from napalm, and there was gunfire and shouting nearby. A helicopter flew overhead, with a familiar logo: a red shield with the black outline of a penguin on it.
Silas.
That crazy bastard led the CYStian 94th Air Cavalry, killing mooks and leaving cards on the most fucked up bodies. He was always a crazy blood knight, hell I enjoyed his company, but this war brought out the worst in him. Any sliver of humanity left in him was used to give orders, the rest having deteriorated as the war worsened. I yelled for Steve to stop the boat; maybe Silas knew if there was an out of the way stream where we could sail, away from the natives.
Steve does so, only after shouting back that this is a bad idea. Mason and Zag seem hesitant to get out of the boat, and I don't blame them; I've done some fucked up shit, but Silas scares the fuck out of me, moreso since the war started. Tim, however, seems a bit too eager to jump out. He's definitely as chaotic as Silas is, so of course they get along. Tim just wants to see an old friend, I suppose. We all jump out of the boat, armed with our rifles. It was time to see if that crazy fuck could be of any help.
The boys and I started a dash for cover. We passed some cameramen and directors. When Zag and Mason stopped and looked right at the cameras, the directors yelled: "Just keep fighting! It's for television! Act like the cameras aren't there!" It took them a while, but they eventually ran over to where myself and the others were.
The natives, armored up by Brennon and co. with various firearms, proved to be dangerous opponents. Men were dropping like flies, in fact I almost had my head taken off a few times. We helped out a bit, and eventually all the natives were either dead or too wounded to fight. And that's when we saw Silas. "Cards!" He shouted in his Irish brogue. One of the grunts ran over with a deck of Silas' cards. He opened them and dropped them on mutilated, disgusting bodies.
The boys and I started walking over, and Silas was standing over a native that was holding a pot over his stomach. Silas kicked the pot away, revealing that the native was using it to hold his guts in. "Christ, put a bullet in this guy's head and call me back when you do; I can't give him a card unless he's dead." Then, he walked towards me and the crew.
"Chris, Tim, Steve... Grunts. Good to see ya." He said, shaking hands with me.
"Hey, Silas, we were wondering if you knew about any streams that were out of the way of the natives that led to the Heart of CYS? We're on mission." I replied.
"The Heart of CYS? The fuck are you doing going up there?"
"Classified." After hesitating, Silas responded:
"I know a place. But to get there you'd have to go right through a village. Since that's not an option in that shitty little PBR you have, and I also have a few more cards left in the deck than I should have... We'll help you out."
"Knew we could count on you!" Tim added.
"Thank you, sir. You might be fucked up and scary, but at least you're on our side." Zag added. Silas laughed at that, then patted Zag on the back. He walked away.
The next day, we packed up and prepared to head out to the village. We were riding in Silas' personal chopper, among his best soldiers. All of them, myself, Tim, and Steve included, were sitting on our helmets. Mason asked Steve why we were all sitting on our helmets, and Steve replied: "So we don't get our balls blown off." Mason laughed, but Steve didn't. Then Mason stopped, took off his helmet, and sat on it.
"Gentlemen," Silas spoke up, "shall we dance?" Then, he turned on a stereo, and began to play the most kickass song ever as we rode to the village. And then we shot the fuck out of it. Due to budget restraints, here is a link to the Apocalypse Now scene that this is based on.
So then the helicopters landed, the soldiers ran out, and whatever natives were still alive gave it there all to take us out. They were outnumbered, outgunned, outmatched; but they kept fighting. Crazy bastards just kept fighting. Have to give 'em that: even when the odds are against them, they didn't stop until we were all dead or they were all dead.
Silas called in an air strike, and we watched as fighter jets flew in and bombed the jungle, where most of the natives, and a few of our men, were. Even after the gunfire stopped erupting from there, those jets didn't stop until there wasn't any jungle left to bomb. Silas, who was drinking from a coffee mug, stood next to me and the boys. Once the smell kicked in, Zag asked "what's that smell?"
"Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that." Steve replied. Then, Silas spoke up:
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning," he paused to drink from his mug, "just the smell. You know, we bombed a hill for twelve hours straight one time and when I walked up there with my cards there wasn't even a single fuckin' body left. But the smell, that gasoline smell... It smells like... victory."
He drank from the rest of his cup, then gave it to one of the grunts who ran off and put it in Silas' chopper. As he began to walk away, he patted me on the back and said "someday this war's gonna end." He's goddamn right it is. And if everything goes the way I want it to, then it'll end someday soon.
Once we were all ready, we sailed down the stream to the Heart. Unfortunately, it appears that Silas led us to a stream that eventually merged back with the main river. "Damn my incompetence, there aren't any streams that don't eventually merge back with the main river," I muttered to myself. So a bit of just sailing around later, and we eventually found ourselves at the last checkpoint on the river. We were half-way there.
Again, unfortunately for us, this checkpoint was being attacked by the natives. In the middle of the night, it looked like fireworks: missiles flying through the air, muzzle flashes, explosions. There was the sound of gunfire, screams of pain, battle cries... It was anarchy. Tim and Mason were talking to each other, and Tim seemed rather distant. I overheard their conversation:
"You know that tab of acid I was saving?" Tim asked.
"Yeah," Mason replied.
"I dropped it."
"Far out, man." With that, Mason patted Tim on the back then went back to his machine gun.
We stopped at the the shore; maybe we could get some help here. A man came up to me, and he was holding a mailbag. "You Captain Chris of 11302 the third?" He asked me, to which I replied yes. "I got some mail for you and that boat's crew." He handed me a few packages, which I brought back to the boat. Steve, Mason, and Zag stayed at the boat while Tim and I scurried over to a turret nest.
As we passed several dead bodies, a few of which were actually just sleeping soldiers, we found ourselves at the nest. There were two men there, both of which I recognized: Sergeant Malkalack, who was cradling a grenade launcher in his arms and seemingly sleeping, and Corporal Narkin, who was firing the turret and screaming like a maniac. Malkalack muttered, just barely loud enough to be heard over the gunfire and Narkin's screaming: "You ain't hittin' shit, Nark."
"YOU GOT A BETTER IDEA, MOTHERFUCKER!?" Narkin yelled at him.
"Excuse me," I said, and both turned to me, Narkin stopping his screaming but still firing the turret. "Do you men know who's in charge here?" I asked.
"Ain't you?" Narkin asked me, then turned his attention to firing the gun. Then, Malk stood up, put a hand on Narkin's shoulder, and Narkin stopped firing. Then Malk checked to make sure his grenade launcher was loaded, and aimed to where Narkin was firing. I could just barely hear a voice with a native accent, yelling: "HEY, G.I. JOE! FUCK YOU, HAHAHA!"
Malk fired his rifle, and I could here the native yelling: "HEY G.I.! FUCK-" then, there was an explosion, and the native stopped yelling. I looked to Malk, then asked: "Hey soldier, you know who's in charge here?" Malk stared at me for a long while, then said: "Yeah." With that, he walked away and went back to sitting in his chair.
We weren't gonna find anything here. This was the last place before morals and humanity dropped off the charts, and it showed. Tim and I went back to the boat, and we went back to sailing, getting as far away as we could from that place. From here on, there was no possibility of calling for back-up, no getting air support, no ammo shipments. We had to make due with what we had. We all went to sleep.
The next day, we were up early, all excited to check our mail. Tim had gotten a letter from some of his friends, detailing what had been going on back home in their lives. Zag got a letter from his mom about what had been going on with the family, while Mason got some newspaper articles about major events back in CYS City. Tim pulled out some flares from his package, and lit all of them off. All of them were purple.
"Hey, look, purple haze!" He shouted, throwing them around. Steve and Mason laughed, Zag being too busy reading his letter to care. Then, we heard gunfire from the jungle surrounding us, followed by bullets hitting the hull of the ship. "FUCKIN' NATIVES!" Steve shouted, ducking for cover. Mason ran to his turret, while Zag, Tim, and I started firing with our rifles.
A small firefight later, and we got out of there, just barely, with no casualties. Then we heard Mason cry out: "Ah, shit, Zag's hit!" And that was when I noticed that Zag was lying face down in a pool of his own blood. Tim and I ran over, flipping Zag over to check his pulse. There was nothing. "No, Zag, don't die... DON'T YOU FUCKING DIE, DAMMIT!" Tim shouted, shaking Zag's corpse. But it was too late. He was dead, and there was nothing we could do about that.
Zag was gone. We had lost our first soldier.
There truly was no going back now.
After burying Zag at sea (or rather, river), we continued upstream. After a few minutes of quiet, I remembered the letter that was written to me. I opened it, and found it was from Kiel. I began to read it.
"Captain 11302,
If you are reading this, you are halfway to Brennon's compound. If you have lost any soldiers, you have my condolences. I am writing this letter to you because there are some new developments: it has been discovered that another man, who was sent on a mission similar to your's and assumed KIA, has recently written a letter to his family. He was Major Bucky, perhaps you know him?"
I paused. The name was familiar: Bucky was revered as a hero in CYS. He fought with Kiel during the siege against Brennon. If ANYONE could succeed, it was him. And now I just found out he failed. Brennon and his followers much be a must bigger threat than I thought. If Bucky failed, there was no way I could succeed...
No, I thought, no, I need to keep going. I continued to read the letter. "Bucky wrote to his wife. The following is the letter, as it was written:
'deer wif,
sel teh hous.
sel teh cir.
sel teh dogger.
sel teh cheldren.
lol tis iz only teh bigening.'
(sic)
"It is clear that something broke him. Brennon must have found a way to turn this man, who valued grammar and proper spelling, into a Grammar Nazi's worst nightmare. Good men like this have been broken by this war, Captain. Let nothing stop you. Find Brennon. Infiltrate his base by whatever means necessary. And terminate Brennon's command."
The letter ended with two more sentences: "Terminate with extreme prejudice. And remember that this mission does not exist, nor will it ever exist." I wiped the sweat off my brow, stuff the letter back into the envelope, and put it on my desk for later review.
Later in the day, I think my doubts of if I could complete this mission started to show. Steve questioned my willpower: "Can you even handle this assignment, Captain? Even Kiel failed to take down Brennon, and he had the CYStian Army's best soldiers with him! In fact, considering your past, I'm not sure you're even fit to be a soldier anymore."
That was when I snapped.
"Your job is to sail this fucking boat upriver, not question my morale! Now if you question me further I will see to it that you get demoted once we get back to base!" At this Steve scowled.
"You're a mess, Captain..." With that, he went back to the helm and left me be.
A short while later, we saw some natives in the jungle, stalking us. They had spears rather than guns; but that didn't stop them from being any less of a threat. I told Steve to take her in quietly, but then Steve did something no one would have expected...
He ordered Tim and Mason to open fire on the natives. Their hesitation was strengthened by my shouting at them not to, but then I realized something: this might be my mission, but this is Steve's boat. He was their commanding officer. And if he ordered them to do something, there was nothing I could do to stop them. Steve barked the order again, and Tim and Mason opened fire on the natives.
More flooded to the shore, throwing spears and rocks and whatever they had. I ducked for cover, while Tim, Mason, and Steve fired at the natives. Steve was screaming angrily, shouting about how all of this was for Zag. When most of the native's were a bit down river, only a handful still stalking us in the jungle, I stood up. Then I saw it: a native preparing to throw a spear right at Steve.
"STEVE!" I shouted, but it was a moment too late. The spear pierced Steve's back and came out of his chest. For a moment he was confused. Then his confusion turned to shock. Then shock to anger. He grabbed me, trying his damnedest to impale me on the spear. I pushed back with all the strength I could muster, and after a minute of struggling, Steve's pulling weakened until it stopped.
His body went limp, and he collapsed to the floor. Now, not only did we lose a second soldier, but we also lost the boat's captain. This mission was going down the drain, but we were too far down. By now, we had to be at least three quarters of the way there. Zag and Steve would be avenged, and Brennon would pay for all the destruction he's caused.
We continued, not stopping as the jungle slowly covered the sky. Soon, if you were to look up, all you would see was trees, making a canopy above us, taunting us, saying that now we were at the heart. The heart of darkness.
We were close enough that now, I could finally tell the crew about why we were going to the heart. They had probably figured it out already, but I wanted to be sure they knew. I called Tim and Mason over, and they both came to me. That's when I started.
"I'm sure you know by now that we're not here for a simple recon mission." Mason nodded, and Tim said: "Knew it, you owe me 15 cigs, Mason." Mason frowned a bit.
"Well, it's time I told you what we're actually doing: we're going on a mission to take down Brennon and end this war." Mason and Tim both looked surprised. They knew it wasn't recon, but probably didn't expect this.
"I'm with you 'till the end, Chris. You know you can count on me," Tim said, setting a hand on my shoulder. Mason didn't bother doing that, instead grinning and saying: "And you can count on me, too. You're a good guy, Captain. Let's go take down Brennon, and make him pay for his crimes."
At least I had these two. In the darkness of the jungle, I could barely make it out, but I saw it: a large temple, at the end of the river, where the water meets the mainland. The heart.
Brennon.
As we got closer, I saw people in white robes near the shore, staring at me. The robes were stained with blood and dirt, and they had blank eyes that pierced through my very soul. They didn't attack us, they didn't acknowledge us, they just stood there. We stopped the boat at the shore. I told Mason to stay there while Tim and I got out to scout ahead. Before we left, I gave Mason the radio frequency to call if we needed an air strike, our coordinates, and the launch code. "Why do I need this?" He asked.
"In case I don't come back in eight hours, I want you to call in the air strike." I said. Without waiting for a response, Tim and I jumped out of the boat and headed to the center, rifles in hand. We saw graffiti all over the once majestic temple, but one in particular caught my eye:
"Our purpose: to do what is right. Our enemy: the people of CYStia. Our motto: Apocalypse Now."
And, after reading that, I noticed him: he was wearing ragged and torn military fatigues, with a buck skull on his head. I recognized his face, at least what I saw of it, and then I realized.
Bucky.
He was staring at me, along with the others. I walked slowly past him, but then the white-robed people began to move toward me. Tim stared at them, and they walked past him to me. They began to grab at me, not to hurt me, just groping me. Then they started to lift me, turning me upside down. "TIM!" I shouted, but Tim just stared on. His eyes seemed less alive, less energetic, less anything. They were vacant. He joined in, helping the people lift me and carry me.
They threw a sack over my head, and after a bit of walking they threw me onto a stone floor, and I grunted in pain. They bound my hands together with rope, and took off the sack. I was facing an archway. I expected to see him, Brennon, walk through it. But then I heard shifting from behind me, and I turned my head to see. It was a bed, and in it was a scrawny man, with nothing but a loin cloth to protect his modesty. His skin was covered in dirt and scars. His cheeks were sunken in, and black rings were around his eyes. Shadow covered half of his face.
Brennon.
"Do you know who I am, Captain?" He asked, in a surprisingly noble voice. What the hell? I expected him to speak like a child, and to speak like an imbecile. Nonetheless, I answered his question with a small nod.
"Then, tell me, why are you here?" I noticed a basin of water in his lap. He cupped his hands, took a scoop of water, and poured it on the top of his head.
I answered: "I'm here to kill you."
"Do you know how many they've sent before you, Captain?"
I nodded, "One. Bucky." At this, Brennon laughed.
"No. They've sent far more. I've forgotten how many, but in all their attempts, I escaped. But, they managed to take away Jimmy and Ryder, my two most loyal followers." That was new. I thought Jimmy and Ryder would still be alive.
"You're from Arizona, correct Captain?" He asked. I nodded in response. "What part?" He asked.
"North, near Laughlin."
"Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon." Funnily enough, I never had, despite living in Arizona most of my life.
"No, I haven't."
"You simply must. It's beautiful. There's something so tranquil and peaceful about that place. And the river is beautiful, as well."
"The Colorado River?"
"Yes. Yes that's the one." Brennon then set the basin on the floor, and laid back down on the bed. "Guards," he said, "bring the Captain here to the whipping post." I flinched, but Brennon chuckled. "No, Captain, relax. You are just going to be tied there until I know what to do with you."
The guards took me to the post, and tied me to it. I stayed there for hours, and I noticed that Tim was among Brennon's cult members. His had taken off his shirt, and smeared mud and blood on his face. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his eyes were almost as vacant as those of the white-robed people. I almost cried; my best friend. They took away my best friend.
I somehow managed to fall asleep, but I was awoken in the middle of the night. Standing above me was Brennon, his face covered in camoflouge paint. He stared at me wordlessly. He was holding something behind his back. I stared back. Then, he tossed the thing he was holding behind his back into my lap.
It was Mason's head, an expression of terror and shock frozen on his face. I screamed, and Brennon slowly walked away. After shaking the head out of my lap, I began to sob. I eventually fell back asleep, it being plagued by nightmares.
The next day, I woke up in the boat, in my small room below deck. At first, I thought it was all a dream; I was still sailing, probably on the first day of the trip, and I just had the jitters. But as I glanced around the room, I finally noticed the headless corpse of Mason, slumped over my radio. I almost screamed, but pulled myself together.
Brennon walked into the room. "Good, you're awake," he said, "you can get to work. We are preparing a ritual, in honor of the fifth anniversary of Kiel's failed assassination attempt."
"Ritual?" I asked.
"We will slaughter a water buffalo."
I cringed a bit. I imagined the worst case scenario, where they brutally rip apart the buffalo while it is still alive, feasting on it's remains, even as flies and cock roaces race for it. I shook my head to clear it of the thought.
"O-okay," I muttered. Brennon left the room, and presumably went back to the temple. I stayed on the boat all day, plotting what I would do. Brennon wouldn't be expecting me to kill him today. He thinks that I am too frightened to do that. I am a bit frightened in fact. And there is a chance I will die...
But if I die, he's going down with me.
I prepare to attack during the ritual. I suspect that he'll be in his quarters during the ritual, at least I pray he will be... I take a machete from the armory, psych myself up, throw off my shirt, and cover my face in mud, leaves, and black paint. I will be Brennon's assassin. I will be the avenger of all those that died because of his action.
I will be the heart of darkness.
The ritual began, and I swam in a stream that led to the back of the temple, staying submerged underwater. I slowly stuck my head up, taking a moment to look around. No one. They were all busy with the buffalo.
Good.
I made my way into the temple with quick movements, sticking to the shadows. I killed a guard on patrol, taking his spear. I made quick use of it by throwing it at a guard, harpooning him. It reminded me of Steve for a moment. Nonetheless, I moved on.
I found myself in Brennon's quarters. He had his back to me, and was washing his face with water from the basin. I crept up to him, raising the machete high. And then I brought it down on his back. Again, and again, and again.
I didn't hit him in spots that would kill him quick. I just mortally wounded him. He deserved to suffer after all he had done. He coughed up some blood, stared at the ceiling, and muttered: "The horror... Th...e...hor...ror..."
And then all was quiet. I took off his head, and carried it with me out the front entrance. The ritual stopped when the natives caught sight of me, holding their leader's head. All stared at me, and for a moment I thought I was going to have to fight out of here.
Then one of them bowed. The rest followed.
I saw Tim among them, bowing. "Tim." I said. He didn't look at me. "C'mon, Tim, we have to go." Tim didn't reply. He didn't even look at me. I tried to force him to come with me, but he wouldn't budge. I left for the boat, leaving my old friend behind; he was just too far gone.
I went to the helm, turned the boat around, and began the long journey back home. Brennon's final words echoed in my mind. I recalled the faces of all I had lost, from the bombings of the Lounge to the mission to kill Brennon. Slasher. At_Your_Throat. Claw. Coins. Betaband. Iqqih. Derp. Zag. Steve. Mason. Tim. All through out, I replayed Brennon's final words in my mind.
The horror... The horror.
