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My ATS Story

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posted on Mar, 22 2004 @ 08:52 PM
DH:My next chapter should be up tomorrow as a follow-up to your carnage.

Carnage is good. Hehehehehe. Kidding, looking forward to it.

posted on Mar, 24 2004 @ 10:11 PM
After an unavoidable delay, I've posted Basket Case to my own bunker story thread, which shows the return of DE, Gothique, and Intrepid to our humble abode.

posted on Mar, 24 2004 @ 11:25 PM
Chapter 23: Survivors

The convoy rolled to a shuddering stop just outside the defensive line. Several people leaped from the trenches, dropping guns to help carry the desperately needed load. Deus got out, running to see if Gothique was okay. He looked weary and pale (paler than usual, at any rate). TDH jumped out of the trenches, practically hugging the weary Deus.

“We’ve got the supplies Parrhesia asked for,” he said to TDH, his voice grating. Gothique, in the meantime, struggled forwards, picking little bits of metal out of her leg. She bled a little through her pants as he pushed herself off the back of the truck. They were too tired to bring the stuff down themselves. Demonhunter ordered the few sentries left topside to help him with it instead, nearly knocking DE over as he pounded him on the back.

“I’m taking Gothique down to the infirmary, ese.”

“Great job, DE. You’ll have your own Galaxy if you keep this up, ristar.”

Deus smirked at TDH’s comments, memories of many days spent discussing trivial hobbies. Taking one of Gothique’s arms, He flung it over his shoulder and helped her to the ground. She trembled and clung to him. He nodded to TDH, and began helping her limp to her crowded infirmary.

As they entered the house, they waited as RANT opened the vault. Gothique pressed up against DE, nuzzling his neck a little. It sent a shock through his system- more than the teenagers and elderly dragging bodies into piles outside, the coppery scent of blood, more than the powder burns and shrapnel wounds they were both covered in. He briefly rested his head against hers, and helped her down the stairs to the infirmary.

They got patched up - half an hour of tweezers , bandaids and John’s bizarre glasses and stories. The supplies had been delivered, and there was nothing else for them to do. Well, nothing for Gothique to do. She slogged upstairs, and collapsed in her bed. In the meantime, DE walked amongst his men in the infirmary. Behind a curtain, Parrhesia was working on Saucerat with several orderlies. It looked painful and crude, judging by the silhouettes. DE winced for his unconscious friend, and began his rounds.

He didn’t just walk among his own men, but among all the wounded. Regardless of squad, stripe or age, they all looked up to him and smiled. Some were brutally battered and bruised.One had a broken arm, while another had several cracked ribs. Springer had lost his pinky finger to a stray bullet, and Ranger’s knee was shattered. Deus ran the gauntlet, from the thirty five year old with three stab wounds to the twenty-six year old who had a pair of through and throughs in his calf. Each one looked up, smiled, and asked one of two things.

Some asked whether they had fought well. Deus told them the truth- they had.

Others asked about friends, colleagues. Deus replied as best he could.

Deus’ squad, thankfully, was without fatalities. Most were wounded. Him men crowded, limped and crawled around him. Most of them would be up and about in a matter of days, while others would be off their feet for weeks. Saucerat hung in limbo, between living and dead.

Survivors is what we are, thought Deus as his men slapped hands and congratulated each other on survival, even going to far as to compare wounds. Each day, we survive, we grow stronger, faster, smarter...less human. He thought about the guilty pleasure that Gothique brought him, and sighed internally. His best friend was on the operating table, and all he could think about was her. He shook his head, and head up after telling his men to get some sleep and rest up. They would all need it in the days to come.

Over two cots from Sauce, the mysterious strange lay, still unconscious.

Well, that's the end of this story arc. Stay tuned saturday, when TDH leads off the next one.


[Edited on 25-3-2004 by DeusEx]

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 06:38 AM
shatered knee?
Looks Like I won't be seeing any action for a while! good thing I have other characters I can write about for a while when I get to that point in time.
(yes, I will make it there, eventually).

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 09:15 AM
Ouch ! - that must sting. Still, you can still use an M16 from a wheelchair I assume. Or maybe a zimmer frame

John Bull's idea for the Yellow forums is a good one that could work here. He bumps it whenever there is a new story. Maybe we could have a thread which anyone writing these stories can update when a new chapter is in the offing.

Actually, I've got bugger all to do now, so I think I'll start it up. If I use BTS for it, it won't get me any extra points either - just an easier way to tell when a new chapter is added. (I'll add links too, which should make it easier to get to the relevant stories).

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 09:17 AM
Sounds like a great idea, Pisky. We need to start pulling the ATS stories together. They're turning into an epic of...umm...proportions whose word I have previously used.


posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 10:39 AM
(Mr. Burns voice) "Exellent." Noticed a few sentences directly from DH's post. Nice touch. So, it's coming together. YEEEEEEEEEHAW.

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 10:47 AM
Well I can always skip the time I'm recovering, that should help me catch up on the timeline.

And I must also write about how I got injured while being verry heroic.
and also for the time I injured my arm in one of Deus' older chapters.

[Edited on 25-3-2004 by Ranger]

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 03:12 PM
awesome chapter again! keep up the great work dude.

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 03:44 PM
great story dude

posted on Mar, 25 2004 @ 11:10 PM

Originally posted by intrepid
(Mr. Burns voice) "Exellent." Noticed a few sentences directly from DH's post. Nice touch. So, it's coming together. YEEEEEEEEEHAW.

The writers of ATS stories shall one by one be required to submit to the personality encoding process DE and I have developed until the hive mind of our writing staff is a legion. The implants won't hurt much, as each of you shall be anesthetized for the duration of the cybernetic surgery.

Resistance is futile.

But seriously, I like when our chapters overlap this way, and it's a lot of what I had in mind when I first asked to join in on this endeavor. Now DE has stated this is rapidly becoming a saga of epic proportions. I'm proud to be a part of it.

posted on Mar, 26 2004 @ 01:57 PM
Chapter 24: The View From Here

The leaves were turning colors outside the bunker. It was two days after the Hour of the Wolf, and Deus’s Devils sat out on the porch. Most of them were taking a break from the grisly ritual of gravedigging. The few who could help, did. Those who couldn’t watched. The pits were shallow, only four feet in the dark, rich dirt. Everyone else simply watched. Deus had tried to work a pickaxe one-handed, and had nearly taken off Intrepid’s head. Cursing and sputtering, the older man had taken the tool from Deus and yelled at him to sit down. Gothique sat next to him, rocking back and forth quietly. She hadn’t said a word since she talked to SR earlier that day.

They had gone down to the infirmary to visit him around noon. Greeting those wounded stuck on cots, they made their way past the unchained forms of the few prisoners taken in battle. They looked broken and tired (being spit upon and the occasional rifle butt to the stomach does that to a person), but still dignified. Their guards chain smoked and sneered at them, nodding to Deus as he passed. The pair slipped into the small, still- cordoned area where Saucerat lay, recovering from his wounds.

“What do you want?” was the inflectionless replies to their cheery greetings. His head lay so that the wound was pressed onto his pillow, cradling it.

“We just wanted to see you, omae,” responded Deus worriedly. His usually animated companion seemed drastically...different. The lustre in his eyes, the smile and the jokes were all gone.

Gothique crept around to the side he faced and took her hand in his. She squeezed, but got no response.

“Baby, you okay?”

“No. Leave me alone.”

Gothique’s face creased with worry, and she glanced at DE. He, too, was worried.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Sauce’s face left the pillow. An eyepatch covered the empty socket, but the mangled exit wound remained barely. Parrhesia had done her best to fix it, but it remained a horrifying rupture in the side of his head. Both of his friends recoiled in horror. Goth leaped on him, holding him tight.

“It’s going to be okay,” she repeated to herself more than him, “It’s going to be okay.”

He pushed her off and lay back down wordlessly. Shocked, Deus patted his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him..

“Listen... Lysergic and the other’s funerals are in a few hours. Will I see you there?”

He didn’t respond.

Now, they all sat, waiting for TDH and the bodies to arrive.

Yes, another lead-into what is the next story arc. As usual, I want replies, ect.


posted on Mar, 27 2004 @ 03:38 AM
I don't know if I could be so strong if it really ended up like this. I'd hope to be, but I'm not sure. This is one hell of a story.

posted on Mar, 27 2004 @ 09:50 AM
OOOOOOOOO. You is such a tease. C'mon already.

posted on Mar, 28 2004 @ 05:41 PM
Chapter 25: The Ragged Edge

Two days later, DE lay on his bed, arm in a sling. Tired after a day of training, he lay on his bed. “Alone,” he thought to himself, “I’m always alone. Not even when me and the boys are wounded do we get time off.” He let his mind drift in the silence, back to the day before. He had watched Sauce turn away from Gothique time and again. He watched the pain hit her like a slap in the face again and again. At one point, he even walked in on one of their screaming matches. Deus had quietly withdrawn.

Today, another round of firing-range and jogging runs had work out the Devils. Everyone ambulatory had been forced into them, with the exception of Sauce. He just lay immobile in the infirmary, almost catatonic. Something else had happened when he had fallen on that battlefield, something only he knew of.

Before he knew it, he was asleep. It was a a dead state. Before he knew it, Gothique was at his side, smiling down at him. She shook him awake.

“We’re to be there at the interrogations of the prisoners, Chris.”

“Okay, Alli.”

He smiled up tiredly at her. Her small, thin boned hands gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. They eyes met, and she walked off. Shaking his head, he rolled over and slung long, lanky legs out of bed. He quickly changed, slipping on pair of pants and his only clean shirt- the tan dress shirt that he had been holding off wearing forever. He shook his head, remembering the past. It seemed so distant... now, everything was soaked in blood. It seemed he was always up to his neck in the stuff. His chest wounds were healing though, already beginning to scar over at the edges. He slipped on the old should holster, picked up his ever-present katana and closed the door behind him and his memories.

He walked down the stairs, into the infirmary and right smack into the middle of a nightmare. The dreadful tableau was still for a minute as he entered. Chained up against the wall were the five prisoners. People stood around, watching in awe. Saucerat stood unsteadily, his face placid. Gothique stood wide eyed and hand on her mouth behind him. Even from the doorway, Deus could see what was happening. TDH stood beside a prisoner, palms open and pleading with Saucerat. In the center of the maelstrom stood the calm SR, Gothique’s stolen pistol in hand. He turned, faced Deus, and smiled. He pulled the trigger, and the room exploded in noise. There was a scream, and one of the men clutched the side of his head. The rest recoiled, moving away from the wounded one. He clutched the rags of flesh that had once been his ear and shrivelled in pain.

“Now,” Sauce intoned with the air of ordering a cup of coffee, “tell me what you know. My hand seems pretty shaky. Maybe next time I’ll hit your head.”

“Please! We don’t know anything! We were just told to come here and kick some terrorist ass. It’s all we know, I SWEAR!”

“Oh, come now. He’s a lieutenant.”

“SAUCE!” DE called out.

“Oh, hi Deus. Just helping the interrogation,” Sr replied happily, smiling even as the gun began to point towards another victim.

“Put it down,” rumbled Demonhunter, “This isn’t right, Saucerat.”

“Please, babe. Please.”

“Shut the # up, babe. Now, tell me what I need to know.”

Deus watched in shock as his best friend cocked the weapon again. What had gone wrong? It was if everything had turned upside down. People watched from cots or tried to speak in a calming voice. His best friend treated violence with casual abandon, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Then it struck him- it was. Death, violence... it was something they were constantly surrounded with.

“Sauce,” Deus called out, “C’mere a moment.”

Sauce nodded and walked over, trusting. Deus snatched the pistol out of his hand, and tucked it into his belt.

“No more guns. You can interrogate, but no more guns. Okay?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Behind Sauce, Parrhesia was sneaking up with a needle. She nodded to him, to try to keep SR’s attention. Deus grabbed his shoulder.

“Good stuff, Sauce.”

Sauce smiled placidly, and turned to see the good doctor four feet away, yellowish fluid in the needle clear. DE reacted quickly, hand grabbing the handle of his sword and half-drawing it...driving the butt into his friend’s stomach. Sauce doubled over, and withing seconds Parr’s need was imbedded in his ass. She pushed the plunger down, shooting the stuff into his system. Within seconds, Deus’s best friend was on the floor.

“#...should have guessed all the junk in his system would # him up just a tad. Nice work, Deus,” Parrhesia panted to him. Deus nodded, and helped the doctor place him onto a cot. Turning back to prisoners, he said, “Start talking, or next time I don’t stop him.”They nodded somberly, and Deus left the room. In the hall, he sweated and trembled. Two deeps breaths later, he walked down to John and handed the pistol over. He knew that not only was sauce no longer the person he knew, but neither was he.

And so the greta downwards spiral begins...comment and such, and there will be rewards.


posted on Mar, 28 2004 @ 05:55 PM
excellent!!! sorry i couldn't find my thesaurus

posted on Mar, 28 2004 @ 06:37 PM
Very lifelike as usual. Remind me never to piss off Saucerat

posted on Mar, 28 2004 @ 07:18 PM
We ain't in Kansas anymore. Nice DE.

posted on Mar, 29 2004 @ 08:13 AM
Excellent as always, DE. Maybe reading this will give me what I need to get out of this writer's block hell I've been trying to push through for the last week.

posted on Mar, 29 2004 @ 09:03 AM
awesome, fabulous, amazing, wicked bad, and damned good job yet again. very dark. i like it... i really like how you're showing how war and fighting drastically changes people. i'm looking forward to what may come out fo those interrigations.

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