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2. Operation Bear's HeadMission transcript for operation Bears Head
Mission Operators: Crimson Dragons
Unit Leader: Commander William Ford
(Note: Dates and times for Special Operations have been deemed classified. Please contact Adviser Maldini for declassification)
C1: Alright then, Viktor Vasiliev has just landed at the airfield. All units check in.
D1: This is Richardson, everything is showing green.
D2: McAbre here, ready for killing.
D3: This is Sloan, standing by for orders Sir.
D4: This is Spacer, D4 ready for deployment.
D5: Yelts standing by. For the Emperor I fight.
D6: Pochard standing by. Its for the wine that I fight. Why do you think Prince Schneizel sent it to us, anyway?
D2: Probably because he knows we are gonna die out here.
D1: OR he is congratulating us on a job well done so far.
D6: Either way, remind me to thank him the next time I see him.
D3: Next time?
1. Neck PainsSpecial Knightmare Division Crimson Dragons Journal of Sir Eric Sloan
Entry No. 1
Well where do I begin? I woke up this morning with a bad neck ache. Again. Sleeping inside a Sutherland for 3 days straight will do that to you, I guess. Its either that, or sleeping out in the cold Russian tundra in which we are waiting in. We are here far beyond enemy lines, waiting for some HVT to show up so we can blow up the airfield that we are about 2 klicks away from. The guys name is Vladvin. Or Vlakden. Or Vladvostock. Hell, I dont know, but what I do know is that he is overseeing the E.U.s main force deployment here in Russia. If we take him out, then troop organization here will be crippled, allowing one of the Knights of the Round to swoop in and take all of the credit. Im not bitter or anything, I just wish we didnt ha
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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