Post by Feyd on Jan 4, 2010 23:37:37 GMT -5
Seattle- North America
George Hess had been a scrapper as long as he could remember. Scrapping was an occupation with good job security. Earth had always been full of trash and it looked like as long as humanity managed to avoid destroying itself, it would be. He was a simple man, fairly disinterested in the war or politics but the war had made business more exciting and he could certainly appreciate that.
Rumors of another major battle in the ruined husk of Seattle had caught his interest and his convoy of trucks had rolled into the still smoldering city almost as soon as the last Zeon ships left. Having parked the trucks and dismounted the members of the convoy proceeded to scour the city on foot, looking for the best salvage to spend their time on.
Hess whistled to himself as he slowly traced his way through the maze of crumbling buildings. Today would be a good day, he could feel it.
---
I sit with my back against a crumbling wall watching the man walk past. I’ve got my Beretta ready although I forgot to grab any magazines while eject ting. A pity, but sometimes a bluff is all it takes. The man walks slowly like he’s in no hurry. I can see his features more closely now, gray hair and a salt and pepper beard probably in his fifties, he’s whistling. This man’s no soldier.
He walks closer, eyes roving to and fro like he’s looking for something. I can hear him stop whistling.
---
“What do we have here…”
George’s voice trails off as he looks at an abandoned parachute. He bends over and pulls it towards him.
“Hmmm, straps are cut. Pilot must have made it out…”
“Put your hands up and stay where you are!”
A voice, calm and confident sounds from the behind the ruined wall in front of him as a man in a flight suit steps out with a pistol in his hand. Hess slowly raises his arms as he glances at the various emblems adorning the man’s outfit before speaking.
“Fed huh, haven’t seen any of you around here lately, Sergeant.”
“State your name and why you’re here.”
“The name’s Hess. George Hess. I’m a scrapper, cleaning up after the tussle you boys had here last night. Listen Sergeant, I ain’t here to cause you any trouble, just trying to make a buck.”
---
I lowered the gun and the man seemed to relax.
“Have you seen any other Federal forces here?”
The man put his hands down, piercing gaze directed at me.
“No Sir, me and the boys got here this morning and all we saw were Zeeks, a couple of their big purple carriers flying overhead. I’d say you’re alone.”
“Alone, huh…”
The man, Hess, was right. I was alone. MIA in enemy territory was KIA as far as the Brass was concerned. They’d known this was a suicidal mission so my demise could hardly be that much of a surprise. Evac was pretty hopeless without any ships around.
My train of thought sure derailed for awhile because the next thing I knew the man had my right arm behind my back and had disarmed me before kicking me face first into the rubble. I spat out a mouthful of grit as I turned around to see my own gun pointed at me.
He clicked the trigger and I flinched instinctively as the gun clicked. He laughed.
“Forgot your own gun was empty, huh Sergeant? Lot of good this’ll do you.”
He tucked the Beretta into his belt as I stood up and wiped my face as I spat again. His hand reached inside the jacket he was wearing and pulled out his own pistol.
“Fortunately, I learned to use a gun while in the Federation. Now I don’t normally like people pulling guns on me, even if they aren’t loaded. We can do two things here, Sergeant, either you can walk in front of me nicely while we head back to camp or I can provide you with an honorable service promotion…”
His outstretched arm moved the pistol in small circles as he finished speaking. It was my turn to raise my hands.
“You win, old man.”
He smiled.
“That’s always the goal.”
George Hess had been a scrapper as long as he could remember. Scrapping was an occupation with good job security. Earth had always been full of trash and it looked like as long as humanity managed to avoid destroying itself, it would be. He was a simple man, fairly disinterested in the war or politics but the war had made business more exciting and he could certainly appreciate that.
Rumors of another major battle in the ruined husk of Seattle had caught his interest and his convoy of trucks had rolled into the still smoldering city almost as soon as the last Zeon ships left. Having parked the trucks and dismounted the members of the convoy proceeded to scour the city on foot, looking for the best salvage to spend their time on.
Hess whistled to himself as he slowly traced his way through the maze of crumbling buildings. Today would be a good day, he could feel it.
---
I sit with my back against a crumbling wall watching the man walk past. I’ve got my Beretta ready although I forgot to grab any magazines while eject ting. A pity, but sometimes a bluff is all it takes. The man walks slowly like he’s in no hurry. I can see his features more closely now, gray hair and a salt and pepper beard probably in his fifties, he’s whistling. This man’s no soldier.
He walks closer, eyes roving to and fro like he’s looking for something. I can hear him stop whistling.
---
“What do we have here…”
George’s voice trails off as he looks at an abandoned parachute. He bends over and pulls it towards him.
“Hmmm, straps are cut. Pilot must have made it out…”
“Put your hands up and stay where you are!”
A voice, calm and confident sounds from the behind the ruined wall in front of him as a man in a flight suit steps out with a pistol in his hand. Hess slowly raises his arms as he glances at the various emblems adorning the man’s outfit before speaking.
“Fed huh, haven’t seen any of you around here lately, Sergeant.”
“State your name and why you’re here.”
“The name’s Hess. George Hess. I’m a scrapper, cleaning up after the tussle you boys had here last night. Listen Sergeant, I ain’t here to cause you any trouble, just trying to make a buck.”
---
I lowered the gun and the man seemed to relax.
“Have you seen any other Federal forces here?”
The man put his hands down, piercing gaze directed at me.
“No Sir, me and the boys got here this morning and all we saw were Zeeks, a couple of their big purple carriers flying overhead. I’d say you’re alone.”
“Alone, huh…”
The man, Hess, was right. I was alone. MIA in enemy territory was KIA as far as the Brass was concerned. They’d known this was a suicidal mission so my demise could hardly be that much of a surprise. Evac was pretty hopeless without any ships around.
My train of thought sure derailed for awhile because the next thing I knew the man had my right arm behind my back and had disarmed me before kicking me face first into the rubble. I spat out a mouthful of grit as I turned around to see my own gun pointed at me.
He clicked the trigger and I flinched instinctively as the gun clicked. He laughed.
“Forgot your own gun was empty, huh Sergeant? Lot of good this’ll do you.”
He tucked the Beretta into his belt as I stood up and wiped my face as I spat again. His hand reached inside the jacket he was wearing and pulled out his own pistol.
“Fortunately, I learned to use a gun while in the Federation. Now I don’t normally like people pulling guns on me, even if they aren’t loaded. We can do two things here, Sergeant, either you can walk in front of me nicely while we head back to camp or I can provide you with an honorable service promotion…”
His outstretched arm moved the pistol in small circles as he finished speaking. It was my turn to raise my hands.
“You win, old man.”
He smiled.
“That’s always the goal.”