Found Journal [CWC]

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posted on Mar, 16 2012 @ 12:56 AM
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Date: March 03, Location: Classified, Time: 2300HRS

Discomfort. That would be the best word to use about how I feel. The humidity here is making me sweat like crazy. Is it like this all year around? It's crazy. The grip on my rifle is slippery and hard to keep, and while I'm looking through my scope, sweat keeps stinging my eye. Laying in the same spot for hours on end making my body ache. And let's not forget the damn bugs crawling all over and biting me. Maybe discomfort is an understatement. Regardless, I dare not move lest my cover be blown. At least when the sun goes down, I can make it back to a safe point to recharge a bit and detail a bit here in my journal. It helps to write down my thoughts to keep me from going crazy.

I would like to log mission specifics here, but the chance that getting captured prevents me from doing so. Maybe I shouldn't have written that. I just feel that having some logs of the events that unfold here without restriction would help me somehow in the future. But, I would rather not risk it. It could potentially cause more problems than not.

Well, I'm going to try and get a few hours of sleep before dawn breaks. Got another day of lying around in misery.

Date: March 04, Location: Classified, Time: 0100HRS

As I write this, I'm being overwhelmed by a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline. Today was the usual, but as I came back to my designated safe point I noticed something was wrong. Someone had been there. I was compromised. My small pack had been thrown everywhere and anything important gone. Luckily I keep this journal on my person. I had to walk carefully as they had set multiple booby traps in the area. It was odd as they had basic traps mixed with ones I had never seen before. I'm not so sure who I'm actually dealing with here. I had to carefully move myself about ten miles to another point. I should stop writing now as they surely must be watching a lot more carefully.

Date: March 05, Location: Classified, Time: 2400HRS

It doesn't seem like the compound I have been watching know I'm out here. If they do, they're good at hiding it. They seem to have been conducting day-to-day operations as normal, or at least what I have seen as normal for the last week of observing them. I'm still awaiting a signal. Any signal. I would convey more, but, you know, I can't. I have heard nothing over the secure comm channel. I am out here and blind. For all I know, the operation has been aborted and I've been left for dead. It's really depressing to think that my employers hav

Date: Unknown, Location: Unknown, Time: Unknown

They caught me. I don't know how, but they did. Four grown men were able to sneak up on me. Not a single noise. Not even the slight sound of breathing. These guys were good. But it's odd. They didn't stick me in some dingy prison. I'm in a fully furnished room with regular amenities. A nice bed with linen, a desk with a lamp...there's even a shower with fresh towels. Hardly an ideal way for this group to treat a prisoner. I haven't even seen my captors yet. There's no window in the room so I can't get a reference point of where I might be or even what time of day it is. There's something that's missing. A clock. Maybe I'll ask them for one.

Date: March 07, Location: Still Unknown, Time: 1400HRS

I have finally met the ones responsible for my capture. They seemed...nice. But rather emotionless. They told me that I am in no danger and I should relax and rest easy. I'm not sure I trust them just yet. This is a known tactic by counter-intel agents. Get on your good side so you think they're your friends. I did ask for that clock which they gladly gave me. They are unlike any counter-intel agents I have ever encountered. There is something off about them. They genuinely seem to want to make me as comfortable as possible with no motive behind it. These guys are either really good at what they do or they are up to something. I asked if I could know where I am, but they said I will know when the time comes. I'm not exactly sure what that means. Well, my "cell" is comfortable, they have provided me with plenty of good books to read, and the food is actually quite good. Regardless of how comfortable I am, I will not get complacent. I know they are going to start prying for information. My training has prepared me for this sort of thing. I may let loose a little and enjoy not being stuck in the middle of the jungle in misery, but I will stay vigilant. They'll get nothing from me. I'm sure once they figure out that I won't tell them anything, my life will turn in to hourly torture. Hell, I might not even make another entry in this journal. Will anyone find it and read it? Will anyone know my story? Well, not like I've put much down as far as who I am. Wasn't my intention for this small book to be my last words. Think I'll read some. Take my mind off of all these negative thoughts.

Date: March 07, Location: Still Unknown, Time: 1600HRS

It would seem I can't take my mind off of the thought that these could be my last days. I'll try to convey my story hoping that someone will read it. Don't know what they'll take away from it, but I just want someone to know that I existed.

I was born in a small town in Oregon. I grew spending my time outdoors. Every chance I got I was either romping through the woods or going to the river to test my fishing abilities. At a young age, I had become fascinated with outdoor survival. I experimented with ideas that I got from reading books about survival. The Boy Scouts was what got me interested. Wilderness Survival was the best merit badge I had ever worked for. As a kid it seemed like it would be so easy to set up a shelter in the woods and live off of the land. Many times I had attempted it only to fail. Every time I tried, I understood a little bit more what was needed to succeed. I never really had a whole lot of friends. I had two close friends that I spent a lot of time with as a child. They were brothers from the family next door. They were outdoor types like I was. But they weren't adventurous enough to attempt living in the wilderness for a few days like I was. School was not my thing, either. I was a less than stellar student and my options for college were minimal. After I graduated, I got in to a huge fight with my father which led to my being expelled from my home. I had nothing to my name but the clothes on my back. I took the only option I had and joined the Marines. I spent four years with them in the infantry. I re-enlisted and decided to try my luck at the Scout Snipers. Two years and multiple classified missions later, the organization that I currently work for contacted me for a job. The things that they offered were too good to pass up. You would think that I had learned my lesson from the first time I talked to a recruiter. Luckily, I wasn't completely lied to this time. The pay, the training, and the aspect of pretty much being my own boss was there. The idea they put in my head of being like James Bond was way far fetched. But I took the bait hook, line, and sinker. That was three years ago and all I have done so far is play second fiddle to the "real" agents. If I were a woman, I guess this would be the equivalent of always being the bridesmaid and never the bride.
edit on 3/16/12 by Echo3Foxtrot because: (no reason given)




posted on Mar, 16 2012 @ 12:57 AM
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(continuing here)

If this has just been read by someone, then that means I have either lost this journal or I have met my demise. As you can tell, I didn't lead a grand life. A simple childhood followed by a military career and what I thought would have been my big break that ended up with my untimely death. But so is the way of a covert operative. And even though these could still very well be my last words written here, my honor to duty stops me from revealing any classified information. Damn conscience.

Date: March 08, Location: STILL Unknown, Time: 1200HRS

I don't know what to think. My world has been turned upside down. Screw my sense of duty, this mission is FUBAR anyhow. I was supposed to watch over the target camp on the Venezuela/Colombia border. Agent Cayetano Juárez was to infiltrate the camp and open it up for a small strike team. I was to wait for two signals. If a vehicle exploded, I was to lay down covering fire on the guard towers so Agent Juárez could make his escape and get to the extraction zone. The other signal, was to be a single code word over the secure comm channel followed by a fire in the munitions building. That would signal the waiting strike team and I was to lay down fire on the towers and anywhere else needed. The object of the mission was to eliminate one man. Oddly, it was a Russian named Dmitriy Maksimov, code name: Steel Coat. He was the brains behind the Venezuelan/Colombian coalition. His actual motives were not in his dossier, but he was a target passed down by my chain of command, so I followed the orders. Why should I have cared who he was or what he did or even what he was up to. It was my job to help take this guy out. His death was my paycheck. That may sound harsh, but so is the way of the world when you're a covert operative.

So why am I revealing all of this information? Because Juárez is a double agent. He's working for Steel Coat. He woke me up this morning to try and convince me that this was above the mission and had nothing to do with it. I called his BS, but he still just insisted never getting angry because he knew he had me by the gonads. He told me he needs my help with something. Yeah, right, like I'm going to help this turd and get myself burned. He can go rot in the deepest pits of hell if he thinks I'll become a dirty traitor like him. At least he had the decency to give me a pack of smokes and a bottle of Wild Turkey. It's five o'clock somewhere so I'm getting drunk. Bad choice in a POW situation, but I'm beyond caring anymore.

Date: March 08, Location: Underground Bunker?, Time: 1900HRS

What a hangover I woke up with this morning. I finished off the entire bottle of Wild Turkey. What a night.

It's funny how I'm able to write this considering what I just went through. Again, I was woken up by Juárez, but this time he wanted to tour me around the area. I was reluctant at first, but my curiosity got the better of me. The first thing I noticed what the structure of the area around me. It was like some sort of underground bunker with metal walls. The reason I think it was an underground bunker was because there were absolutely no windows. However, there was a courtyard he took me to that had sunlight and plants. But, it wasn't real sunlight and most of these plants were like nothing I had ever seen before. Juárez explained to me that it was a tranquility room to help the workers cope with being away from home. But that was all he would tell me about it. Needless to say, this was confusing as hell. I think he was lying and this was some sort of experimental greenhouse. Whatever they're growing, it can't be good.

Mostly it was just corridors with doors to other rooms and common areas. All of the people around me seemed to be as emotionless as the ones I met when I was first captured. But they had families living here. And the technology! Juárez showed me things that I never knew existed in this world. Things that I don't even know how to explain. It was like something out of Star Trek or some weird science fiction world. Steel Coat must have some serious financial backing and the best scientists in the world. I need to rest and think about what I've seen today.

Date: March 12, Location: Tarkillius Mother Ship, Time: 1200HRS Earth Time

This will be my last entry in this journal. The last four days have been...I don't know how to explain it. Enlightening? A dream? A psychotic episode of fantasy? Possibly I have died and this is the afterlife. No, this is reality. This is really happening. Where do I start.

Cayetano Juárez is not even human. Neither is Dmitriy Maksimov. THEY. ARE. ALIENS. Yeah, you read that right. Both of them are aliens of different species. Juárez is a Tarkillian. Their true form is pretty cool. Apparently, I was under some sort of technology that masked their true appearance and translated their language to English. That's some pretty wicked cool stuff if you ask me. The Tarkillians don't look anything like the big-head, buggy-eyed aliens you or I have known. They do look humanoid, but they have a scaly skin colored with different shades of red. In place of hair, they have tentacles. The tentacles actually serve a purpose. From what Juárez, actually his real name is Hwodria or something like that, told me is that the size and style of tentacles symbolize a lot of things. The style symbolizes occupational specialty. The size symbolizes age and experience. Wow, there is just so much more about this race that I want to convey here, but there's not a lot of time.

Juárez told me that Maksimov is a general of a galactic empire race known as the Soriswenians. From the images he has shown me, they look very reptilian. He explained that the ship I am currently on is one of the flagships of a coalition force to stop the Soriswenian Empire for destroying anymore worlds. Apparently, the flotilla is comprised of several thousand ships from other space-faring races that have had their home worlds conquered by the empire. These ships also house the races of many other worlds that were not exactly advanced to the point of space travel. This coalition army has been fighting with the empire on Earth for many, many years attempting to delay the inevitable push to take over our planet. Juárez has placed his trust in me that I could become some sort of inter-galactic soldier to help them in their cause.

Juárez was posing as an agent taking on specific missions to take out Soriswenian officers who were making the preparations for the invasion of Earth. He wasn't the only one. Unfortunately, as you may know by now, it was too little, too late. Earth is now in the middle of the empire's invasion. Cities have fallen but Humanity continues to fight on.

I'm writing this last entry in hopes that someone finds this and knows the true story of what is about to happen. The coalition army is preparing a full scale attack on the empire to save our world. I'm placing this book inside one of many supply pods being dropped to Earth in hopes of supplying Humanity with the means to hold off the invaders until the coalition strike is ready.

Hold out, friend. Help is on the way. And when we win this thing, we shall all share a drink with our new found allies. We will rebuild our world and make it a better, peaceful planet.

Victory is on the horizon.

Signed
Special Agent Galactic Coalition Soldier Wayne Radcliff, Earth Division
edit on 3/16/12 by Echo3Foxtrot because: (no reason given)



posted on Mar, 16 2012 @ 10:21 AM
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E3F that was some story. You do have a talent for writing. You guys are motivating me to step up my game and learn to be a better writer. I know I'll never make money from it, but it is one of my creative outlets that I enjoy when the feeling hits me.

Again, great story idea. Welcome to the short story forum & keep contributing.


Visit my short story if you like. I'd appreciate your feedback.
See sig for link



posted on Mar, 16 2012 @ 02:58 PM
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Thanks. Once I have the second one that I'm submitting(totally different account), I'm going to work on a second part of this story. I think a chronicle of the battle between the Galactic Coalition Army and the Sorswenian Empire for the preservation or enslavement of Earth would be pretty awesome to write.



posted on Mar, 30 2012 @ 10:47 AM
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Well done. Your storyline is immense, and you could go anywhere with it.

I hope you do.

Flagged accordingly.





 
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