ORP: Memories That Haunt

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Lucas "Saint" Clark
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Army

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 15, 2013 19:18:10 GMT -5

Post by Lucas "Saint" Clark on Nov 15, 2013 19:18:10 GMT -5

2130 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Darkness. That was all Lucas could see for miles. After a mission had gone south and his team dwindled from six down to two leaving him as the commanding officer was not something that was planned. The mission was supposed to be a simple one: drop a small special operations filtration team into a village, find the man who had links to Al Qaeda, and bring him back to their superiors for questioning. All of that had changed the moment his commanding officer realized that there was a whole lot more to the story than the team was told. When they entered the village under the cover of darkness there was already a feeling of uneasiness settled in his fellow soldiers and they would soon discover why.

Lucas blinked back the thoughts that swarmed his mind. Now wasn't the time or the place for them. He had to focus on getting the only surviving member of his team out before the locals could find them. He had called in for extraction long enough ago that it should've been here already but there was no such luck. As he looked over to his unconscious team member, Mike, his heart sped up. If he didn't get the man out of here and to safety fast enough then he wouldn't make it either and Lucas wasn't quite sure that he could live with another death on his hands. He then glanced down at the cracked screen of his watch and pressed the button on the side, lighting up the screen so he could see the time: 2130.

The sound of a helicopter approaching was more than enough to cause Lucas to look up and although he couldn't make out much he knew that it was one of theirs. He was no expert on aircraft but he knew enough to be able to tell that it wasn't an Army helicopter, which struck him as odd but he didn't pay it much attention. As it touched down not far from where he was sitting Lucas hoisted Mike up over his shoulder before grabbing his brother's pack and he slowly made his way toward the 'copter. He didn't say anything to the pilot at first and instead made sure that his friend was securely in a seat before he climbed on. He placed his rifle between his legs and pulled his helmet off.

"We're it. No one else made it."

It pained Lucas to even say those words and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Those men were his brothers and he had seen each one of them lose their life. He couldn't carry them out of that hellhole they had been dropped into and that weighed heavily on him. He was trained to never leave a man behind, he didn't want to leave them behind, but he was only one man - there was no way that he could have recovered all of their bodies. He looked down at his hands that were covered with stranger's blood and he pulled his ACU Tactical Gloves off, unable to keep them on any longer and he dropped them to the ground before wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. He had to remind himself that he was safe now - he was going back to base.

< Tag: Gracie "Fae" Bridges >

Last Edit: Nov 15, 2013 19:22:42 GMT -5 by Lucas "Saint" Clark

"I fear no evil for the shadow is mine and so is the valley."

Gracie "Fae" Bridges
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Air Force

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 11:56:59 GMT -5

Post by Gracie "Fae" Bridges on Nov 16, 2013 11:56:59 GMT -5

2130 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Grace was surrounded by darkness. She guided her HH-60 PAVEHawk across the desert sands, low enough to avoid radar detection, but with the balls to the wall. Clipping along at 200 miles an hour over the open desert - not a thing to light her way, flying only by the eerie blue glow coming from the instruments, and the infrared radar. This was what she loved to do. She was ecstatic, pumping adrenaline through her veins as she cut through the night.

The radio in her earpiece confirmed that the Thunderbolts had taken out the anti-aircraft threats along her route into the town. She didn't know what town it was, she hadn't been stationed in Iraq long enough to know the area well, she flew off of her orders, going by GPS coordinates. She grabbed the secondary stick with the collective and throttle, and held her cyclic steady as she begged more speed out of her vehicle. She was in her own little world, the copilot, Malory Jensen - she didn't exist. Her Gunner, Markus, he didn't exist. It was her.

The mission was something of an anomaly - she usually flew retrieval missions for AFSOC members, or joint op missions, and then sometimes she flew search and rescue. She couldn't remember a time when she picked up the slack for the army pilots, and flew to pick up one of their teams. Her briefing was short, as most often are. The army helo went down due to the aforementioned anti-aircraft fixtures. They didn't have any other pilots on standby, so they called her in. Honestly, she was starting to realize that the middle-east is not a great place to fly helicopters. Thankfully she was flying a PAVEHawk. It wasn't top of the line, but it was fancy. Precision Avionics, it stood for. Her helicopter wasn't prone to the unpredictable wobbles and movements of other models, because the computer kept it stable. It had night vision, and infrared. Doppler Radar, and .50's.

She neared the GPS coordinates for the LZ, like a bat out of hell. She quickly reversed her controls, and swung the tail wildly around with a sturdy press of a foot pedal. Markus was pulling the side door open as she landed. The blades pushed up a wall of sand, but she wasn't about to shut down her engines. She flipped a couple of switches to her right labeled 'high idle' and the engine entered a lower RPM rotation. She glanced back, not removing her helmet, to see a young soldier dragging a wounded man on board. Markus was quick to help him get the soldier on, without causing further injury. They got him buckled into a crash seat, and the other soldier followed suit. Her initial impression of him was similar to most. He was covered in dust and sand, and blood. He was just another customer on her taxi. He was just another soldier.

"We're it. No one else made it."

Grace let out a "Rodger, dusting off" - but it was drowned out by the roar of the engine. She took it out of High Idle and twisting the throttle all the way, and bringing the helicopter quickly up to speed. She lurched once, and then tore off forwards and upwards, in an explosion of sand. She was calm and collected, and in control - yet her heart was broken for the soldier in her care. Something about the way he said it. She'd seen defeat before, but his voice, all broken and raspy. He was defeated, not just his team. It was palpable. She shook her head - trying to avoid thinking about it. She had about 20 miles of desert to cross, and she wanted to do it as quick as possible.

Suddenly a red light lit on her instrument panel. A sharp blip sounded. "Missile lock, everyone hang tight!" she said, speeding the helicopter up to it's limits, and pulling it into a steep climb, off to the right side. Her copilot hit the chaff, and a series of starburst explosions of light dumped out the back of the helicopter. Over the sound of her engine she heard the sound as they shot out. A brighter burst of light and a faint jolt told her that the rocket had detonated on the chaff. She let out the breath she had been holding in, and continued on.

That's when the second missile hit. Fired from an RPG-7 on the ground. No lock on, just shot when she was at her most vulnerable - right after recovery. The grenade took the helicopter on the tail, There was a loud explosion, and the PAVEHawk shook violently, as the cockpit was flooded with red lights, warning lights, frantically spinning gauges, and buzzers, beeps, and sirens. Gracie was focused on stabilizing her helo. All of her concentration went into saving the lives in her charge. She fought with the pedals for a moment, but without the tail, she wouldn't be able to keep it from spinning on it's own. "Cutting fuel lines, auto rotate..." she mumbled, flicking switches, and killing any secondary or tertiary systems that would caues problems after the collision. "Mayday Mayday, Tower-Camp-Fallujah, this is Hotel-Hotel Four-Five-Sixty, going down coordinates 33.595 by 43.998..." she trailed off, fear creeping into her voice. She wasn't sure if the message was delivered, her radio only returned static. "Hang on guys!" she yelled to her crew, instinctively tightening the straps on her harness. She remembered what her instructor had told her. Sand is soft. Sand is soft. Sand is soft. She blacked out as they hit hard.

Tag: Lucas "Saint" Clark

Please Direct all PM's to Logan Blackwood

Lucas "Saint" Clark
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Army

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 15:12:34 GMT -5

Post by Lucas "Saint" Clark on Nov 16, 2013 15:12:34 GMT -5

2132 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Lucas’s mother supported her son but she had always told him that he was too young to see the horrors of war and had begged him not to enlist when he was in high school. When he had decided it was the career he wanted he had never seen the woman shed more tears than she had that day. She knew her son wouldn’t be content sitting behind a desk for his entire life and she was right. He had chosen a career that was dangerous and fast-paced and she blamed herself. She supported him nonetheless and had pooled together what money she could to make sure that he had the best equipment and not a mail call went by where he didn’t have something from her.

For some reason his mother was the only person on his mind as he sat there in the crash seat on the helicopter. The female pilot’s voice barely broke his concentration. He was used to working side-by-side with different pilots and he had come to rely on them more than he ought to. They had gotten his team out of some messy situations in the past and he had the upmost confidence in a woman that he had never met before. She was trained for her job as he was his, and they worked together like a well-oiled machine. As the helicopter lifted off of the LZ, Lucas picked his rifle up. The SCAR-L Mk 16 Mod 0 had been with him on most of his missions and as his fingers brushed over the cool metal as he idly stared at it.

Lucas pulled on a headset that was offered to him by the gunner and he closed his eyes, settling back into the seat. He knew that they were about twenty miles away from the closest base and he figured that’s where they would be landing so Mike could get medical treatment before they could go any further. His fingers idly scratched at the scruff on his face and he puffed his cheeks up slightly. This wasn’t how he had wanted to spend his evening. He thought that the mission would go smoothly and him and the rest of the members of his team would be back on base by morning and try to rustle up a few drinks to celebrate another mission gone well.

That hadn’t been the case. Mike was unconscious and the rest of his team were dead. He had managed to grab their dogtags and they were securely tucked away into one of the many pockets on his flak vest. He would make sure that each of their family members received them upon his return to the states. He felt as if it was his duty to see them personally and although he couldn’t reveal the details of the mission he would be able to tell them that their sons died honorably.

Gracie’s voice broke through his thoughts and Lucas’s eyes shot open. So much for getting out of here in one piece. He was helpless to do anything worthwhile. He tightened the straps on his harness after putting his rifle down and then he reached across to Mike to make sure that he was strapped in. The helicopter jerked when it was hit with a grenade and Lucas cursed under his breath as he was jolted forward, only to be stopped by the straps. As the helicopter crashed to the ground, Lucas' entire world went black.
2145
Unknown Location, Iraq
Lucas wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the crash and as he blinked open his eyes he felt a heaviness on top of him. He grunted as his hands flew up to unstrap the harness and he pulled himself free. ”Easy there, tiger. You’re alive.” He heard Mike’s tone, dripping with relief as he tapped the side of his face. Lucas pushed his hand away and breathed out quietly. At least he knew one of his men were still alive. As he pulled himself out of the seat Lucas glanced around. It was too dark to see anything worthwhile and he knew there was no way he’d be able to find his nightvision goggles in the crash. The light of the flames that flickered from the helicopter caused him to stop for a moment. They had to get out of here before something worse happened.

He didn’t say anything to Mike, instead he used the flicker of the flames as a light to find the gunner. His body were crushed and there was blood everywhere. When Lucas tried to check for a pulse there was none and he ripped the dogtags from his neck. Another casualty – there were beginning to be too many of those tonight. Lucas jumped down onto the sand and he wiped the warm blood from his face when it dripped down from his head. He hadn’t even realized he was injured until now, instead he was running on pure adrenaline, his heart was pounding hard in his chest as he began to push on. He had to see if the pilot was still alive.

Lucas was barely able to get to where the cockpit should be because of the rubble but once he made it and he found the woman who had saved his and Mike’s life he silently said a prayer that she was alive. He couldn’t have another death on his hands. He felt for a pulse and it was there, just barely. He made quick work of her harness before pulling her helmet off of her head and he tossed it to the side. Lucas wrapped his strong arms around the woman before lifting her up. She was as light as a feather and he carried her to a clear patch of land.

”Hey, come on, you gotta get up.” Lucas hovered over the woman’s frame as his pulled a tissue from his flak vest. It wasn’t much but he was able to wipe some of the blood from her face off. Luckily the wound there wasn’t too deep. If that was all she suffered she was a lucky one. He discarded the tissue to the side and patted her face. He didn’t know her name or anything else about her but suddenly he felt as if his entire life’s purpose was to wake this woman up. His voice was hoarse as he tried to wake her. ”Come on.” He pleaded with her unconscious body, his fingers brushing strands of her dark hair away from her forehead.

< Tag: Gracie "Fae" Bridges >

"I fear no evil for the shadow is mine and so is the valley."

Gracie "Fae" Bridges
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Air Force

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 16:29:29 GMT -5

Post by Gracie "Fae" Bridges on Nov 16, 2013 16:29:29 GMT -5

Time: Unknown
Location: Bunker, MO
Forever ago

Gracie walked into the kitchen of her house. A different Gracie. Her height was much as it should be. She reached her peak around fifth grade. She had never been tall, but some occasions had the ability to make her feel infinitely small. It was late. What time was it? She hadn't bothered to check the clock before getting out of bed. It was a small thing. It fit her size. A twin bed, most likely. Wait - it wasn't late at all - the sun was up. Low, but up. She didn't notice some of the peculiarities that she would have today. She didn't notice that her sister wasn't in the bed next to hers. She didn't notice the sounds of her mother sobbing, not at first. She didn't notice the lack of aroma from the usual morning coffee. Most importantly, there was no music. There was always music in the house. Her father surrounded himself with it. That silence was the most chilling.

The teen then began to notice things. The way her father was cradling her mom - head buried in his neck. The front door stood open, letting in the crisp autumn air. Birds chirped outside, and a gentle breeze blew leaves about - crispy and brittle - they scratched the ground. The uniformed police officer. The sheriff. He had given a drunk driving presentation to her class not two weeks ago. She liked the man. She knew from local gossip that he was one of the few decent officers in the county. Not a well kept secret was the fact that drugs were prevalent in her small town. Especially crystal meth, and everyone seemed to have a finger in that pie. Even the police.

But what was this about? She fought for thoughts. It was Saturday. Her cross country team had taken first at a meet last night, her legs still ached from the run. Monday was the first day of the new quarter at school. She had an assignment due on Monday in her writing class. She was supposed to pick up her sister from a friends house this afternoon. Suddenly, the pieces locked into place. Audrey was the only missing element here. Her grandparents all lived up north. Her aunts and uncles in Illinois. If something had happened to one of them a Trooper would be here in stead. Something horrible had happened - something local.

Her mom looked over, Gracie must have made a sound. A weak sound. A mumble, or cry? She had no memory. Her heart felt heavy, her chest tight, her eyes wet with tears already forming. She fought to inhale a breath. To suppress a sob. Her mom was there, instantly. Driven out of her own grief, replacing it with concern. Gracie felt the pressure of her mom comforting her, wrapping her arms around her, tears melding with tears. "I'm sorry Gracie, I'm so so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Sorry for what?! Gracie wanted to scream, wanted answers for the question, answers she already knew. She wanted details. She must have made a sound, because her mother cooed "Sand is soft, baby girl." She looked up at her mother, curious, flooded with grief, and a sharp piercing pain in her forehead. She tasted blood. What was this? It didn't fit. This wasn't right. The living room was full of sand, it was dark, and the sheriff was wearing a helmet, the type a pilot wears. She took her breathes deep and rapid. Her pulse quickening. Her mother smiled, a creepy, nerve shattering smile and said "Hey, come on, you gotta get up." The voice was not her mom's.

2146
Unknown Location, Iraq

Gracie was shocked into alertness, and found herself crying in the arms of a soldier. The soldier she had picked up. Memories came flooding back to her. That's right! She had crashed. Oh no! She had crashed. The first thought was horribly misplaced. What is going to happen to me? They are going to be so mad! Her sobs subsided, replaced with fear, and concern. She had been trained on what to do in the event of an accident, but it was all foreign to her. She looked around, without moving. She saw her soldier, kneeling over her. Noticed his hands, one on her shoulder, one on the side of her head. They were warm. He was trying to revive her, she realized. She tested herself, running down the alphabet in reverse, stopping, going forward. She wiggled her toes, everything seemed in order, aside from a probable concussion. Her head stung, bad. Like she had gotten into a fight with the hulk.

She tried to talk, but her lips were dry, her mouth was dry, her throat was dry. She tasted blood and sand. Felt it's gritty consistency in her mouth. She wet her lips, looking into the eyes of this unknown soldier who had pulled her from the wreck. Without thinking, words found her lips "Thanks..." she said, trailing off at the end. She was becoming more aware of her surroundings, and the danger they were still in. She struggled to sit upright, digging her hands into the cold night sand, as she sat up, she was hit with a bit of dizziness. She shrugged it off, priorities put herself behind everyone else. "Is everyone alright? Are you alright?" she said, her mind and mouth racing. "...have a couple carbines - behind the seat in a compartment, emergency radio, gps"

Her eyes locked with her soldier. She searched them for a sign that everything was alright. She remembered that he had an injured team mate. She had her gunner and copilot. They were a small enough group, they could make it to base, or meet up with rescue, without being detected. She searched his eyes, looking for an answer. They were sad eyes, but she could tell that it wasn't just from his experiences. She had seen his eyes when she woke. They were different now. Deeper. She knew, somehow she knew that not everyone had made it.

The sadness moved in, a thick knife in the night.

Tag: Lucas "Saint" Clark

Please Direct all PM's to Logan Blackwood

Lucas "Saint" Clark
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Army

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 16:49:08 GMT -5

Post by Lucas "Saint" Clark on Nov 16, 2013 16:49:08 GMT -5

2147 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

A breath of relief left Lucas’s lips when the woman came to. She was alive. He hadn’t lost her too. His hand that had been resting on the side of her head gently cupped her cheek as he looked into her deep brown eyes. He knew that despite his best attempts his eyes would give him away. He didn’t want to burden her with the death of her gunner or the injuries that the crew had substained. He would take away her pain if he could. He knew the pain she would feel, he knew it all too well, and it was overwhelming. Carrying the deaths of others on your shoulders was nothing the young soldier would ever wish upon another. This job wasn’t one that was easy. Reality had finally hit Lucas when he faced his first deployment – this wasn’t just a game. This was real and now with the smell of fire and debris hitting his nostrils he knew that he wasn’t just dreaming.

”There you are, pretty girl.” He tried to smile down at her, tried to ease her thoughts for the time being. He had to look her over to make sure that nothing else was injured. He stayed quiet as he moved away from her for a moment. His pack – he had seen it when he was carrying her to safety and it didn’t take long for him to locate it again. Once he picked it up Lucas brought it back over and placed it down beside the pilot. He opened the pack and pulled his kit out. He wasn’t a doctor, a nurse, or even a certified paramedic but he had some field medic training – enough that he could splint a broken bone, stop bleeding, and stitch up a few things if need be. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves before picking up the pack of gauze. His fingers worked at pulling it from the packet it set in and he doused it in some peroxide before looking up at the woman as she spoke.

”This will sting a little bit.” He warned her before pressing the gauze against her forehead. His other hand gently moved behind her head to cradle it closer to him as he held the gauze to the wound. She more than likely had a concussion – he knew that much – but it didn’t appear that she was in too bad of shape. ”The gunner…” Lucas trailed off as he tossed the gauze to the side. ”…he didn’t make it.” His baby blue eyes met her darker ones for a moment, sadness in them. ”I’m sorry.” He knew that his apologies could do nothing but he wasn’t sure what else to say. Lucas cleared his throat softly and reached back into his kit. He knew that if he were to stitch her wound in the dark without properly cleaning it would be cause for infection.

He took a fresh gauze and held it under the wound as he poured some peroxide directly on the cut, making sure not to let any get into her eyes or fall down her face. He wanted to make sure it was as clean as possible before moving forward. He waited a few moments, letting the liquid fill her wound up to clean it up before he wiped it dry. Some antibiotic ointment came next. He gently covered her wound with it before he bandaged it up. ”That should be good until we get back. If it keeps bleeding I’ll stitch it up but I rather not. The last thing you need is an infection because it’s not clean enough.” He murmured softly. Lucas pulled his gloves off and dropped them to the ground before his calloused fingertips brushed her hair from her face. ”Does anything else hurt?”

< Tag: Gracie "Fae" Bridges >

"I fear no evil for the shadow is mine and so is the valley."

Gracie "Fae" Bridges
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Air Force

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 18:12:07 GMT -5

Post by Gracie "Fae" Bridges on Nov 16, 2013 18:12:07 GMT -5

2147 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

In truth, the gauze and peroxide didn't sting. Her head already throbbed, and it was simply an afterthought. She was more concerned about being doctored up like she was a baby. She would have just as soon started towards the base, this all felt like needless distraction and wasted time. Gracie was solid under pressure, she flew countless missions through enemy fire, dodging rockets, making tight quick dust and go landings - but this was a different thing entirely. Pressure had broken her, for how long she could not say. At that moment, she was unsure whether or not she would ever fly again. Whether that be because of punishment for her failure, or simple mental inability. It happened to pilots and soldiers all the time. How could she have failed? She was a better pilot than this. She didn't get shot down.

In truth, she adored the fact that her soldier was taking care of her. She melted when he called her 'pretty girl,' and it made the world seem a little brighter - all things considered. As she waited for him to finish the doctoring, she started running down a checklist in her mind. That was something she did religiously. She always had to quantify things. The crash had definitely not been as bad as it could have. The RPG hit the tail, rather than the fuselage, thankfully - otherwise they'd all likely be dead. She had cut the fuel, so no after-effect explosion. The auto rotate had slowed them down enough not to shred the helicopter to bits, and apparently only her gunner had died. It probably should have hit her harder than it did, but truthfully, she was so numb from everything else that she couldn't bother to worry about him now. He would be mourned - later. Thankfully she hadn't worked with him long enough to have developed a bond, which seems like a cruel thing - but that night, it probably saved her life. Especially after what was to come.

Her soldier asked if anything else hurt

"I think I'm good, just rattled around a bit." She didn't have time for names, not yet. However caring it was, he had wasted time tending to her wounds, and they needed to get away from the wreck. If any insurgents were near by, they would be sitting ducks. Slowly, she got to her feet, giving herself a moment to acclimate to standing. She fought off another wave of dizziness, as she got her bearings. She stumbled to the crash, taking a quick observation. She avoided lingering over the gunner's body. She had no time for sadness. She opened the compartment that stored emergency gear, and pulled out one of the M4 carbines. It was simple. Collapsible stock, ACOG scope, 2 spare mags. She unsnapped the forward part of the sling, and clipped it back on to the rear fastener, making a crude single point harness. She slung it over her head, and stuck an arm through, letting it hang close to her chest. She grabbed the handheld emergency beacon, that had a GPS chip in it, and stuffed it into a pocket on the front of her vest.

She realized that her soldier hadn't said anything about her copilot. Forcing herself to act, she peered around the bulkhead to the seat where Lieutenant Jensen was sitting. Her side of the helicopter had hit the ground, and the metal was pressed up. She noticed Mal's leg was at an unnatural angle. Her uniform was soaked with blood. She pressed two fingers to her partner's neck, but felt no pulse. She dropped her eyes, and hear heart sank a bit further. Still numb from the trauma, she turned and climbed out of the PAVEHawk.

It was dark still, and while nights in Iraq got pretty chilly, she was sweating. She unfastened her survival vest, and slumped it off - quickly unzipping her flight suit. She rolled it down, and used the sleeves to tie it off around her waist. Upon inspection, her sand colored undershirt was pristine - it felt odd, with the amount of blood from her head. She shook the thoughts from her head. They would only slow her down. She picked the vest back up, and slipped into it, noticing how bad her collar bone hurt for the first time. No doubt from the harness. It wasn't life threatening, and she could ignore it. She left the vest unzipped, and adjusted the sling on her weapon.

It felt odd, having a rifle hanging off of her. She had trained on them in basic, and again for flight school - but she'd never had to use it. She pulled the standard M9 from her holster, checking it over, before replacing it. She thumbed on the emergency beacon, and gazed off towards the base. She walked over to her soldier, looking up at his handsome face. "Mal didn't make it either. Hows your boy?"

Tag: Lucas "Saint" Clark

Please Direct all PM's to Logan Blackwood

Lucas "Saint" Clark
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Army

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 18:40:19 GMT -5

Post by Lucas "Saint" Clark on Nov 16, 2013 18:40:19 GMT -5

2150 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Taking care of Gracie was the only thing Lucas could think of doing right now. He knew it wasn’t safe for them to stay near the crash for long but if they had left before he made sure she was good to go and something happened he would blame himself. He was content with the job he had done patching her up but the moment she was on her feet he was too. Lucas closed his pack up and slung it over his shoulders before fastening it in place. Inside the pack was everything they’d need – clean water, some food, and other basic supplies. He had to find his weapon. He had his sidearm still, he had checked after standing up, but that wouldn’t do him much good if they got into a firefight.

Lucas followed the woman back to the crash-site and he began to look around. She had mentioned weapons in an emergency hatch or something along those lines – truth be told he was only half listening – but he needed his weapon. By pure luck he found his modified rifle not far from where he had woken up and after picking it up Lucas began to check it over. It looked good – a little blood on it but apart from that it was unharmed. He slung the strap of the weapon over his neck and slipped one arm through the loop before moving forward. Mike had woken him up but now where was he? Lucas had figured he went to check on the pilot and savage whatever supplies he could but he hadn’t heard from him.

As the young man looked around, his eyes finally accustomed to the dark he saw a figure laying on the ground. It was Mike. ”Son of a—“ Lucas trailed off as he jogged over to his friend. He wiped the blood from his own brow before turning Mike over onto his back. He must have collapsed again. He knew that the man had undergone a rough injury back in the village but he thought he was going to make it. His fingers pressed to his neck – he had a pulse. Lucas had patched him up the best he could earlier but there was no way that the man would be able to stay conscious long enough to make it back to base.

”Unconscious again but he’s alive.” Lucas responded to Gracie, his gaze not lifting from his friend. ”We’re going to have to carry him back.” As he spoke, Lucas carefully lifted his friend up off the ground before slinging the man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He would worry about making a makeshift stretcher later. They had to get away from the crash. Lucas glanced at the woman beside him before glancing up at the sky. ”We’ve got a ways to go. You have everything you need?” He was starting to get anxious – the insurgents that shot them down had to be closing in by now and the sooner they were out of here the better. Who knew what kind of hell would descend upon this place in a few minutes.

< Tag: Gracie "Fae" Bridges >

"I fear no evil for the shadow is mine and so is the valley."

Gracie "Fae" Bridges
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Air Force

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 19:23:26 GMT -5

Post by Gracie "Fae" Bridges on Nov 16, 2013 19:23:26 GMT -5

2150 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

As soon as her soldier said they would have to carry the man, she returned back to the helicopter. Her senses were returning to normal, and she could smell the blood. It almost made her vomit as she searched the compartments in the hold. Fighting down the sensation, she opened the rescue supplies, and grabbed what she was searching for. It was a tightly rolled up padded fabric, it looked like a sleeping bag. She silently berated herself for not thinking about this earlier. She gave no heed to the fact that concussions prevented clear thinking.

She jogged over to Lucas, admiring his strength for being able to hold the man up as he was. He must be tired, exhausted and hurting. She was impressed with his strength. It oddly comforted her. She undid the velcro, and threw the mat out like a blanket. It was an emergency litter, used for carrying injured people. Her helicopter would have been issued a proper stretcher if search and rescue had been her mission. Ironic that they were likely the subject of a search and rescue mission now.

"Here, lay him down gently, watch his head!" she said, perhaps a little too authoritatively. She helped lower the man down, and pulled the straps out from under his legs. She fastened them, so he wouldn't flail around on the litter. It was soft, so he would slump down - but that couldn't be avoided right now. It was imperative that they leave the area. She pulled her rifle sling off, and sat her gun down across the man's ankles. It would do her no good if it was pinned between her and the stretcher. She noticed her soldier payed her just as much attention as his man, and it both comforted and annoyed her. She was far better off than he was, but still. That was thanks to her soldier.

Gracie had purposely positioned herself to take up the man's feet for the march. Her soldier was much stronger than her, and without a head injury - so best he take the lead, instead of risking her dropping the wounded man's head. Standing upright, she fumbled behind her back for the neck of her hydration bladder. She put it in her mouth and gave a healthy pull. It was the most majestic sensation in the world, that drink of hot, plasticy water. She thought for a second, and asked "Do you have any water left in yours?" offering the hose to him. "I'm Gracie by the way."

Tag: Lucas "Saint" Clark

Please Direct all PM's to Logan Blackwood

Lucas "Saint" Clark
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Army

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 19:41:29 GMT -5

Post by Lucas "Saint" Clark on Nov 16, 2013 19:41:29 GMT -5

2152 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Being the oldest of two, Lucas was used to taking care of others. It came second nature to him. His mother had raised him to take care of his little brother when she couldn’t and it carried over to college and now to his career. When he was a college student he was often the one who would take care of fellow fraternity brothers when they were too drunk to function, hungover, or simply suffered from the common cold. Taking care of Mike and the pilot was something he didn’t even think about. Thankfully enough he was running on adrenaline and had yet to feel the pain from the wounds that he had. He had patched them up the best he could while waiting for the pilot to get there to begin with – so any new ones were from the crash.

When Gracie returned to him with a ‘stretcher’ he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much but it would help to distribute the weight. If he had calculated things well enough they had to be at least fifteen, possibly ten, miles from the base. It would take all night for them to get there and he wasn’t quite sure if he would have been able to carry Mike on his own for that far. He was by no means a heavy man, but with the terrain they faced it was certain Lucas would have had to make more breaks than they could afford. As he carefully lifted the man onto the stretcher like Gracie instructed he then pulled the straps over his chest to secure the man in. If he were to wake up suddenly and thrash about he’d cause more injury to himself.

Lucas wiped the sweat, blood, and dirt from his brow as he glanced down at his man. He was alive and soon enough he would be out of this hell and safe – soon his pilot would be too. He glanced up at her and gave her a small smile as he reached for the hose she offered and took a quick sip of her water. ”I have a little left – not much though. I’m trying to save it because we’re going to need some to get us through.” He responded and wiped at his mouth before offering a small smile. ”Lucas.” Gracie suited her – he didn’t know how, but when he looked at her she seemed as if she’d be a Gracie.

He waited for her to get into position before grabbing the loops of the litter and he lifted it up. Mike’s weight was pretty evenly distributed and it made him easier to carry between the two of them. He glanced over his shoulder at Gracie to make sure that she was alright before starting to lead them forward. Although he didn’t know the area as well as he’d like to, he knew the general direction they needed to go and as long as they were far enough away from the crash site they would be alright.

< Tag: Gracie "Fae" Bridges >

Last Edit: Nov 16, 2013 19:42:01 GMT -5 by Lucas "Saint" Clark

"I fear no evil for the shadow is mine and so is the valley."

Gracie "Fae" Bridges
Homeworld Command

Posts: 0

Rank: First Lieutenant (O-2)
Organization: United States Air Force

ORP: Memories That Haunt Nov 16, 2013 20:05:51 GMT -5

Post by Gracie "Fae" Bridges on Nov 16, 2013 20:05:51 GMT -5

2159 Hours
Unknown Location, Iraq

Grace kept pace easily enough. She wasn't particularly strong. At all. It was part of the reason she was a pilot. She had stamina, and could run for days, but as for lifting things - well, she was glad to have Lucas to help share the load. Lucas. Her soldier had a name. Lucas was a good one, for him. She was good at judging people. He was the solid soldier type, firm and strong. Some would rather go with Luke - but she liked Lucas. This way she could imagine him heroically pulling her out of that crumpled heap of a helicopter, instead of off fornicating with sheep on some farm.

She thought back to the moment she woke up. It was hazy, and it came in fragments to her. She shivered as she caught a glimpse of the dream in her mind - it was uncomfortable to say the least. She wasn't a medical expert, but couldn't help wonder if other trauma victims often had dreams of traumatic events. It held place with tonight as one of the worst of her life. The day she learned that her sister, her junior by only 18 months, had been run down by a drunk driver. Tragedy broke over her tiny rural town. It broke like a river freed from a dam, and crashed hard on Gracie and her family.

She tried to fight off the memories, but they stayed. Not only that, but the fact that Lucas had to see the end result of it - it did wonders for her self confidence. What had he thought of that display? Likely it showed that she was a weak girl, traumatized by the big scary crash. Not many people got to see her cry. She did not like to feel weak.

Her fingers began to ache, not minutes after they started the march. She was not used to this type of effort. One at a time, she slipped her wrists into the loops, and twisted them around, grabbing hold of the slack. It made it easier to take the weight. She was sure that by morning she would be rubbed raw and bruised, but she was adamant that she see this soldier to safety. After she had failed so miserably at keeping the other two safe.

Their lives weighed heavily on her. She had never been responsible for something so terrible. She wondered which of them had families. Who would answer the door when the officials came knocking, with a medal and a flag. As she walked, breathing heavier from exertion, tears flowed freely down her cheeks, leaving clean lines through the dust and dirt. She looked up at the cloudless Iraqi sky, the bright full moon had just come up and the stars marked the sky. Perhaps it is unreasonable, but the absolute beauty of the pristine night sky, unmarred by city lights or pollution only made her feel worse, in spite of it's beauty.

Without even realizing it, she was speaking. Tired of the silence, or simply to rid herself of the baggage. "Lucas..back there. I'm sorry I was such a mess. While I was out, I had a dream..a hallucination, or a nightmare.." she took a breath. She was huffing like a fat boy at PE practice. The cool air stung her lungs. "my sister was killed when I was 16 - killed by a drunk driver - and I was there again, in my house, when we learned the news. It was like I was there again. Until I heard your voice -" she cut off. What was she thinking? Blabbering on like this? He was a soldier. He probably didn't want to hear about her troubles, after all they had been through.

No - she told herself - he ws different, he was her soldier.

Tag Lucas "Saint" Clark

Please Direct all PM's to Logan Blackwood

Adam "Sly" Collier: Oh-oh Mar 10, 2015 0:35:47 GMT -5

Jay: Working on my bio, hoping to get it up over the weekend! Mar 11, 2015 6:53:45 GMT -5

Riley "Pyrex" Peterson: Working on Riley as well.

Hi all Mar 14, 2015 23:06:37 GMT -5

Riley "Pyrex" Peterson: My color is purple!! xD Mar 19, 2015 19:10:58 GMT -5

Farrah Byrne: it's a very pretty color :3 Mar 20, 2015 12:42:52 GMT -5

Riley "Pyrex" Peterson: haha it is and so is yours

Mar 20, 2015 21:56:46 GMT -5

Ronald "Otis" Hudson: Blah. Post is up, pretty rubbish, still getting into the character Mar 31, 2015 4:27:50 GMT -5

Farrah Byrne: [stares at thread] I should reply to you Apr 2, 2015 13:05:12 GMT -5

Farrah Byrne: SHOULD I DO FARRAH OR MY NEW MAN Apr 2, 2015 13:05:18 GMT -5

Farrah Byrne: I did the thing ;D Apr 2, 2015 13:16:54 GMT -5

Katrina Logan-Walker: Well look who is baaaaack lol. New character coming soon as a civvie if possible

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Farrah Byrne: gonna ACTUALLY do the final graphics this weekend >< sorry this has been taking me so long Apr 16, 2015 17:34:55 GMT -5

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