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Prologue
Comments thread is here: http://www.ulmf.org/bbs/showthread.php?t=8733
The year is 2203. While Humanity has advanced slowly along the path, they are still reaching for the stars, as always. But, even with dreams of the stars, America still faces the usual scrutiny. Other nations disagree, and wish to destroy them and take their technology for themselves. This has prompted a certain project to be put into action..............
It was early. Around 8 AM, Drake thought, as he rolled out of his broken and worn bed in his 3rd story apartment.. As he shambled out of his bedroom, he had realized he was still wearing his Marine fatigues from yesterday. He had just gotten home late last night, and hadn't even bothered to undress before laying down in his mildly comfy bed. After stretching and making sure he was still in one piece, he proceeded to enter his bathroom, looking over his features. His almost non-existent black hair barely growing back from his monthly shave in the Service. He looked at his thin beard and mustache, sighing as he reached for his electric razor, shaving off what scraps of hair were on his face and smiling as he then set the razor down. Looking in the mirror, he examined his wide chin and high eyebrows, wondering if he should thin them or not, then thinking nothing of it. He then turned on the faucet, waiting for it to warm up and cupping his hands, then splashing his face with the warm water to wash off the few hairs that remained on his face after his shave. His blue eyes looked back at him in the mirror, and he noticed his teeth had grown yellow from all the cigarettes he had smoked overseas and the lack of ability to properly brush. As he reached for his toothbrush, a knock at the door caught his attention. As he walked away from the mirror, he brushed off his shirt and tried to make himself presentable. "Yeah, Yeah, I'm coming." He yelled, as the knocking began to intensify. Upon opening the door, an older man in full US military uniform stood ahead of him. Drake instantly stood at attention as he noticed the Colonel wings on the man's collar, his legs straight as the Marine sergeant stood at attention. The Colonel smiled as he stepped forward, saying in a gentle tone, "At ease, Sergeant Conners." The Sergeant sighed as he let his arm down to his side and allowed the Colonel in, closing the door behind him
The Sergeant listened, handing the Colonel a mug of coffee as he sat down on the couch, Drake himself sitting in the nearby easy chair. The Colonel looked about the bland apartment, smiling as he took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the table in front of him. "Sergeant. I know you just got back from the front. But this is a matter of national security. You have been selected, along with four other servicemen for Project Freerunner. Each of you unique in your own way. This project could very well be your end, and it is fully voluntary. But know, that should you survive..........."
The Colonel stopped, looking down at the coffee ahead of him, then looking up to the stone-faced Sergeant. "You will become one of our greatest military assets. Do you accept, Sergeant Conners?"
The Colonel continued to scan the Sergeant's features, looking for something, anything, to indicate his answer. Suddenly, without warning, the Sergeant stood and saluted, standing at full attention "Sir! I would be honored to be a participant in Project Freerunner." the Sergeant said in a firm tone of voice as the Colonel stood and reached out his right hand. "At ease, Sergeant. Welcome aboard. Pack your things, and be at the Airport in four hours." Drake reached his right hand out to shake the Colonel's hand as the older man spoke, a broad smile on his face as he shook his hand.
When the Colonel departed, Drake busied himself finding new clothes, eating breakfast, and cleaning himself. Before he knew it, three hours had passed, and he was practically charging out of his apartment in a rush to get to the airport.
The flight had been.......boring. He and the Colonel flew via private jet across the country. From Manhattan, New York, straight to Las Vegas, Nevada. From there, they disembarked, and climbed aboard a black limousine, where Drake and the Colonel sat. There, across from Drake, the older man handed Drake a file. Contained within was something that scared even Drake. Files on Human-Robotic combination, neural implantation for telekinetic control of machines, body strengthening devices, and many more things that not even the Jarhead could comprehend. Most of it, though, just disappeared from his head as soon as he stopped reading it. "Sir. What is this all about?" he asked, handing the folder back to the Colonel, who began laughing lightly and took back the folder.
"Project Freerunner has been in development for the past 13 years. We hypothesized that if given the proper augments to the human body and mind, a normal soldier could become a new weapon of mass destruction. The project, headed up by General Edmond Grant, will take you and the other four candidates. And turn them into a new hope for the United States. The problem is, all of our scenarios usually result in Graft Versus Host syndrome, which essentially causes the body to destroy itself, thinking the augments to be foreign invaders that the immune system must attack. You five were chosen because of the medical history you have. You show an innate resistance to most foreign diseases. As such, that strong an immune system can be controlled with the first implant. All other simulations on other subjects resulted in either total immune failure or Graft Versus Host Syndrome. But the General and his science staff say that you five each have a 70% chance to receive the intended effect."
The Colonel stopped talking when he noticed that Drake was staring at him with a questioning look. "A Jarhead to the core. In laymen's terms, you five are the only viable candidates because of your unique immune system. We're going to turn you into a super soldier. On par with Superman, my boy." The Colonel drew a cigar out from his coat pocket, lighting it and puffing it gently as he rolled down the window, the howling desert wind echoing into the car as the sped down the desert road. Drake himself, mixed up in feelings of both excitement and regret, thought about what he was getting into.
When they reached their destination, at half past 3 local time, Drake looked out the window at what appeared to be nowhere. The Colonel stepped out of the limo, prompting Drake to follow. As the limo pulled away, the Colonel began sifting the ground lightly with his foot until a quiet clank was heard. The Colonel pointed to a small ring on the ground, about the width of Drake's wrist "Open it, Sergeant. You'll see why we have it like this later."
Drake complied, grasping the ring and heaving with all his might, to reveal a stairwell hidden under a large metal door. As he heaved it open, the Colonel quickly moved to his side and assisted until it was open enough for the two of them to enter, at which point, Drake grasped a handle inside and slowly closed it as he descended into the darkness, the Colonel pulling out a flashlight and lighting the way.
After what felt to Drake like a hundred steps, he began to notice a change in the room temperature, as if he was in a house that was air-conditioned. As they stopped, the Colonel pointed his flashlight at a door ahead of them, reaching into his coat pocket and drawing out a small key card, finding a keypad and swiping the card, then entering eight numbers into the pad, at which point the door opened, revealing a long hallway lined with innumerable doors. "Welcome to Project Freerunner's base. You'll be spending the next year of your life here, so get used to being underground." The Colonel stated, smiling as he put away the flashlight and keycard, turning to face the Marine.
"I never told you my name. I'm Colonel Morgan, and I will be in charge of your physical augmentation oversight. Now, let's go introduce you to the team." Colonel Morgan then turned and placed his hand on Drake's shoulder, leading him down the corridor until they stopped at a door marked "LAB 3" in bold black letters, standing out against the silver door. As the Colonel opened the door, a loud scream fo frustration could be heard as a scientist came into view from the slowly opening door. The Scientist grasped at his brown hair, practically ripping it out as what appeared to be a human arm lay in front of him, the Colonel clearing his throat as they entered.
The lab was......Strange, most things not fully understood by Drake's quick scan of the room. Numerous computer screens and metal tables were spread about the room, as small glass cases around the walls held numerous vials and what Drake presumed to be computer parts. As the Scientist turned around, he released his brown hair and attempted to make it look mildly presentable. As Drake looked upon his features, he notice numerous pimples and zits covering his face, as well as a thick set of Cokebottle glasses covering his brown eyes. As Drake opened his mouth to speak, the Colonel cut him off. "Professor Zead. I'd like to introduce you to our other Marine candidate, Sergeant Drake Conners. Drake, this is Professor Zead. He is our top cybernetics specialist, and will be overseeing the medical procedures relating to your physical modification."
The colonel spoke in a firm tone, the Scientist looking over Drake as he hopped out of his chair, examining every aspect of the Marine, before sitting down and speaking firmly. "Yes, Yes. Please go, as I am on the verge of a breakthrough!" Drake could sense the agitation in his voice, saluting and walking back towards the door, the Colonel following. "What is his problem, Sir? Did someone spill his chocolate milk?" Drake asks, joking about the nerd-like features of the good doctor, the Colonel obviously not impressed. "Drake, Zead is probably older than you. And as such, he deserves the respect he is due. After all, he'll be the one turning your body into a compact freight train." Colonel Morgan says, a smile creeping to his face as he turns and leads Drake deeper into the facility, stopping at a door labeled "MEDLAB 1," opening it and allowing Drake to enter first.
Inside, Drake saw three hospital beds, as well as a large window to his left that spanned most of the wall, overlooking three operating tables assembled with separating curtains between each bed. After scanning the room, he saw a desk off to the right, behind the three beds, with what appeared to be a young woman, barely in her thirties, sitting behind it, typing away at the computer set upon the desk. Upon hearing the door open, the woman looked up to meet Drake's gaze, then blushed as she went back to her work. "Sergeant, this is Doctor Ford. She's one of the five physicians in the project, and is the lead surgeon. She will be handling any and all medical issues in the facility." Morgan speaks, waving to the doctor as she sheepishly waves back, the pair departing from the room and closing the door.
Drake looked over at the Colonel, and opened his mouth to speak. "Sir. Is she always that sheepish? I don't want an easily unnerved doctor operating on ME." Drake states, crossing his arms as the Colonel laughs and pats Drake on the back. "Don't worry! She only gets like that around new people. She'll warm up to you, don't worry." Morgan says, as he directs Drake down the hall to the final door, opening it and smiling. "This is the barracks. Really, it's just a room with three bunks. Get accustomed to it. Because you'll be spending most of your time here." Morgan stated, smiling as he looked over at drake. He then pointed to a bunk that was devoid of and bags or clothing, then turned for the door. "Get some sleep. The other candidates will be showing up tomorrow. For now, get as much sleep as you can. I hear the process can cause insomnia." The Colonel laughs, as he exits the room, Drake himself walking over to the bunk, plopping down and laying down, both of his hands behind his head as he stares up at the bed above him, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
Day broke the next morning with a loud trumpeting noise inside the barracks, played through a speaker, as Colonel Morgan began to speak. "Drake. Get your ass up and head to Medlab 1. The Doctor needs to make sure you're in one piece after you tour of duty." The Colonel spoke, then the speaker clicked as if a phone was hung up, Drake, climbing himself out of bed, exited the barracks and headed to the medlab he had examined yesterday. When he entered, there was a man sitting in the bed closest to the door, wearing what appeared to be Ranger pants and a matching shirt. The two soldiers locked eyes, and practically assaulted each other in their minds.
Drake had always hated Rangers, and this man was no different. "Name and rank." Drake stated firmly, crossing his arms and waiting. "Staff Sergeant Little. Army Rangers. What about you, Jarhead?" Drake smiled as he opened his mouth to speak "Gunnery Sergeant Conners. Marine Force Recon, 3rd platoon." he stated, knowing full well that, either way, they were both damn good warriors. The Ranger began to laugh to himself, his right arm raising to a salute. "Didn't think they'd be bringing in a Gunny for this project. Welcome aboard, Jarhead. Looks like we both get to kick some ass." The ranger spoke, before inhaling sharply through his teeth, reaching his left hand for his right forearm.
"Dammit, Doc. That hurts! You gotta shove that big a needle into my trigger arm?" he exclaims in pain, the doctor from earlier taking out a vial of blood from a needle she had inserted into the Ranger's arm, withdrawing the needle itself and then covering it with a gauze pad. "Poor baby. I thought you Rangers were tough as nails. Looks like the Marines beat you." The doctor says in a very light voice, the Ranger laughing as Drake walked over and sat in the bed next to him. Drake decided to start a conversation, beginning with where he was stationed before being sent home.
As it turned out, he and Little had been stationed on opposite ends of the front line, both men leading their squad in pushing deep into the Russian-controlled Poland. It was one of many operations designed to take back Europe and liberate them from the Russians, who had slowly began a push from their motherland into Europe. As another doctor arrived to do a physical exam on Little, Ford began running a battery of tests on Drake. By the time both men were done, they both slowly walked back to their barracks, both aching all over from the repeated shots and injections, and from certain..........Aspects..........Of the physical. By the time they managed to get back to the Barracks, it was almost 9 PM Eastern time. But what had surprised Drake most, was that there was a female soldier sitting on Drake's bed, her legs covered in desert camo pants, and wearing a brown T-shirt with USMC plastered on the front in black. She immediately stood and saluted, stepping aside, noticing Drake. "Corporal Heartford, reporting for duty, sir!" she said, then a wry smile cracked over her face as she crossed her arms and laughed. "Not really. But seeing as how you two seem eager to sleep, I figured I'd introduce myself." The woman says as Drake sighs, then walks to his bed, half-assed saluting the Corporal and then plopping his head down "Gunnery Sergeant Conners. Find your own bed before it gets taken." he says, exhaustion apparent in his voice. As he pulled his feet onto his cot, he heard both the soldiers breaking into light conversation as he himself wondered what was to become of him.
It was early. Around 8 AM, Drake thought, as he rolled out of his broken and worn bed in his 3rd story apartment.. As he shambled out of his bedroom, he had realized he was still wearing his Marine fatigues from yesterday. He had just gotten home late last night, and hadn't even bothered to undress before laying down in his mildly comfy bed. After stretching and making sure he was still in one piece, he proceeded to enter his bathroom, looking over his features. His almost non-existent black hair barely growing back from his monthly shave in the Service. He looked at his thin beard and mustache, sighing as he reached for his electric razor, shaving off what scraps of hair were on his face and smiling as he then set the razor down. Looking in the mirror, he examined his wide chin and high eyebrows, wondering if he should thin them or not, then thinking nothing of it. He then turned on the faucet, waiting for it to warm up and cupping his hands, then splashing his face with the warm water to wash off the few hairs that remained on his face after his shave. His blue eyes looked back at him in the mirror, and he noticed his teeth had grown yellow from all the cigarettes he had smoked overseas and the lack of ability to properly brush. As he reached for his toothbrush, a knock at the door caught his attention. As he walked away from the mirror, he brushed off his shirt and tried to make himself presentable. "Yeah, Yeah, I'm coming." He yelled, as the knocking began to intensify. Upon opening the door, an older man in full US military uniform stood ahead of him. Drake instantly stood at attention as he noticed the Colonel wings on the man's collar, his legs straight as the Marine sergeant stood at attention. The Colonel smiled as he stepped forward, saying in a gentle tone, "At ease, Sergeant Conners." The Sergeant sighed as he let his arm down to his side and allowed the Colonel in, closing the door behind him
The Sergeant listened, handing the Colonel a mug of coffee as he sat down on the couch, Drake himself sitting in the nearby easy chair. The Colonel looked about the bland apartment, smiling as he took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the table in front of him. "Sergeant. I know you just got back from the front. But this is a matter of national security. You have been selected, along with four other servicemen for Project Freerunner. Each of you unique in your own way. This project could very well be your end, and it is fully voluntary. But know, that should you survive..........."
The Colonel stopped, looking down at the coffee ahead of him, then looking up to the stone-faced Sergeant. "You will become one of our greatest military assets. Do you accept, Sergeant Conners?"
The Colonel continued to scan the Sergeant's features, looking for something, anything, to indicate his answer. Suddenly, without warning, the Sergeant stood and saluted, standing at full attention "Sir! I would be honored to be a participant in Project Freerunner." the Sergeant said in a firm tone of voice as the Colonel stood and reached out his right hand. "At ease, Sergeant. Welcome aboard. Pack your things, and be at the Airport in four hours." Drake reached his right hand out to shake the Colonel's hand as the older man spoke, a broad smile on his face as he shook his hand.
When the Colonel departed, Drake busied himself finding new clothes, eating breakfast, and cleaning himself. Before he knew it, three hours had passed, and he was practically charging out of his apartment in a rush to get to the airport.
The flight had been.......boring. He and the Colonel flew via private jet across the country. From Manhattan, New York, straight to Las Vegas, Nevada. From there, they disembarked, and climbed aboard a black limousine, where Drake and the Colonel sat. There, across from Drake, the older man handed Drake a file. Contained within was something that scared even Drake. Files on Human-Robotic combination, neural implantation for telekinetic control of machines, body strengthening devices, and many more things that not even the Jarhead could comprehend. Most of it, though, just disappeared from his head as soon as he stopped reading it. "Sir. What is this all about?" he asked, handing the folder back to the Colonel, who began laughing lightly and took back the folder.
"Project Freerunner has been in development for the past 13 years. We hypothesized that if given the proper augments to the human body and mind, a normal soldier could become a new weapon of mass destruction. The project, headed up by General Edmond Grant, will take you and the other four candidates. And turn them into a new hope for the United States. The problem is, all of our scenarios usually result in Graft Versus Host syndrome, which essentially causes the body to destroy itself, thinking the augments to be foreign invaders that the immune system must attack. You five were chosen because of the medical history you have. You show an innate resistance to most foreign diseases. As such, that strong an immune system can be controlled with the first implant. All other simulations on other subjects resulted in either total immune failure or Graft Versus Host Syndrome. But the General and his science staff say that you five each have a 70% chance to receive the intended effect."
The Colonel stopped talking when he noticed that Drake was staring at him with a questioning look. "A Jarhead to the core. In laymen's terms, you five are the only viable candidates because of your unique immune system. We're going to turn you into a super soldier. On par with Superman, my boy." The Colonel drew a cigar out from his coat pocket, lighting it and puffing it gently as he rolled down the window, the howling desert wind echoing into the car as the sped down the desert road. Drake himself, mixed up in feelings of both excitement and regret, thought about what he was getting into.
When they reached their destination, at half past 3 local time, Drake looked out the window at what appeared to be nowhere. The Colonel stepped out of the limo, prompting Drake to follow. As the limo pulled away, the Colonel began sifting the ground lightly with his foot until a quiet clank was heard. The Colonel pointed to a small ring on the ground, about the width of Drake's wrist "Open it, Sergeant. You'll see why we have it like this later."
Drake complied, grasping the ring and heaving with all his might, to reveal a stairwell hidden under a large metal door. As he heaved it open, the Colonel quickly moved to his side and assisted until it was open enough for the two of them to enter, at which point, Drake grasped a handle inside and slowly closed it as he descended into the darkness, the Colonel pulling out a flashlight and lighting the way.
After what felt to Drake like a hundred steps, he began to notice a change in the room temperature, as if he was in a house that was air-conditioned. As they stopped, the Colonel pointed his flashlight at a door ahead of them, reaching into his coat pocket and drawing out a small key card, finding a keypad and swiping the card, then entering eight numbers into the pad, at which point the door opened, revealing a long hallway lined with innumerable doors. "Welcome to Project Freerunner's base. You'll be spending the next year of your life here, so get used to being underground." The Colonel stated, smiling as he put away the flashlight and keycard, turning to face the Marine.
"I never told you my name. I'm Colonel Morgan, and I will be in charge of your physical augmentation oversight. Now, let's go introduce you to the team." Colonel Morgan then turned and placed his hand on Drake's shoulder, leading him down the corridor until they stopped at a door marked "LAB 3" in bold black letters, standing out against the silver door. As the Colonel opened the door, a loud scream fo frustration could be heard as a scientist came into view from the slowly opening door. The Scientist grasped at his brown hair, practically ripping it out as what appeared to be a human arm lay in front of him, the Colonel clearing his throat as they entered.
The lab was......Strange, most things not fully understood by Drake's quick scan of the room. Numerous computer screens and metal tables were spread about the room, as small glass cases around the walls held numerous vials and what Drake presumed to be computer parts. As the Scientist turned around, he released his brown hair and attempted to make it look mildly presentable. As Drake looked upon his features, he notice numerous pimples and zits covering his face, as well as a thick set of Cokebottle glasses covering his brown eyes. As Drake opened his mouth to speak, the Colonel cut him off. "Professor Zead. I'd like to introduce you to our other Marine candidate, Sergeant Drake Conners. Drake, this is Professor Zead. He is our top cybernetics specialist, and will be overseeing the medical procedures relating to your physical modification."
The colonel spoke in a firm tone, the Scientist looking over Drake as he hopped out of his chair, examining every aspect of the Marine, before sitting down and speaking firmly. "Yes, Yes. Please go, as I am on the verge of a breakthrough!" Drake could sense the agitation in his voice, saluting and walking back towards the door, the Colonel following. "What is his problem, Sir? Did someone spill his chocolate milk?" Drake asks, joking about the nerd-like features of the good doctor, the Colonel obviously not impressed. "Drake, Zead is probably older than you. And as such, he deserves the respect he is due. After all, he'll be the one turning your body into a compact freight train." Colonel Morgan says, a smile creeping to his face as he turns and leads Drake deeper into the facility, stopping at a door labeled "MEDLAB 1," opening it and allowing Drake to enter first.
Inside, Drake saw three hospital beds, as well as a large window to his left that spanned most of the wall, overlooking three operating tables assembled with separating curtains between each bed. After scanning the room, he saw a desk off to the right, behind the three beds, with what appeared to be a young woman, barely in her thirties, sitting behind it, typing away at the computer set upon the desk. Upon hearing the door open, the woman looked up to meet Drake's gaze, then blushed as she went back to her work. "Sergeant, this is Doctor Ford. She's one of the five physicians in the project, and is the lead surgeon. She will be handling any and all medical issues in the facility." Morgan speaks, waving to the doctor as she sheepishly waves back, the pair departing from the room and closing the door.
Drake looked over at the Colonel, and opened his mouth to speak. "Sir. Is she always that sheepish? I don't want an easily unnerved doctor operating on ME." Drake states, crossing his arms as the Colonel laughs and pats Drake on the back. "Don't worry! She only gets like that around new people. She'll warm up to you, don't worry." Morgan says, as he directs Drake down the hall to the final door, opening it and smiling. "This is the barracks. Really, it's just a room with three bunks. Get accustomed to it. Because you'll be spending most of your time here." Morgan stated, smiling as he looked over at drake. He then pointed to a bunk that was devoid of and bags or clothing, then turned for the door. "Get some sleep. The other candidates will be showing up tomorrow. For now, get as much sleep as you can. I hear the process can cause insomnia." The Colonel laughs, as he exits the room, Drake himself walking over to the bunk, plopping down and laying down, both of his hands behind his head as he stares up at the bed above him, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
Day broke the next morning with a loud trumpeting noise inside the barracks, played through a speaker, as Colonel Morgan began to speak. "Drake. Get your ass up and head to Medlab 1. The Doctor needs to make sure you're in one piece after you tour of duty." The Colonel spoke, then the speaker clicked as if a phone was hung up, Drake, climbing himself out of bed, exited the barracks and headed to the medlab he had examined yesterday. When he entered, there was a man sitting in the bed closest to the door, wearing what appeared to be Ranger pants and a matching shirt. The two soldiers locked eyes, and practically assaulted each other in their minds.
Drake had always hated Rangers, and this man was no different. "Name and rank." Drake stated firmly, crossing his arms and waiting. "Staff Sergeant Little. Army Rangers. What about you, Jarhead?" Drake smiled as he opened his mouth to speak "Gunnery Sergeant Conners. Marine Force Recon, 3rd platoon." he stated, knowing full well that, either way, they were both damn good warriors. The Ranger began to laugh to himself, his right arm raising to a salute. "Didn't think they'd be bringing in a Gunny for this project. Welcome aboard, Jarhead. Looks like we both get to kick some ass." The ranger spoke, before inhaling sharply through his teeth, reaching his left hand for his right forearm.
"Dammit, Doc. That hurts! You gotta shove that big a needle into my trigger arm?" he exclaims in pain, the doctor from earlier taking out a vial of blood from a needle she had inserted into the Ranger's arm, withdrawing the needle itself and then covering it with a gauze pad. "Poor baby. I thought you Rangers were tough as nails. Looks like the Marines beat you." The doctor says in a very light voice, the Ranger laughing as Drake walked over and sat in the bed next to him. Drake decided to start a conversation, beginning with where he was stationed before being sent home.
As it turned out, he and Little had been stationed on opposite ends of the front line, both men leading their squad in pushing deep into the Russian-controlled Poland. It was one of many operations designed to take back Europe and liberate them from the Russians, who had slowly began a push from their motherland into Europe. As another doctor arrived to do a physical exam on Little, Ford began running a battery of tests on Drake. By the time both men were done, they both slowly walked back to their barracks, both aching all over from the repeated shots and injections, and from certain..........Aspects..........Of the physical. By the time they managed to get back to the Barracks, it was almost 9 PM Eastern time. But what had surprised Drake most, was that there was a female soldier sitting on Drake's bed, her legs covered in desert camo pants, and wearing a brown T-shirt with USMC plastered on the front in black. She immediately stood and saluted, stepping aside, noticing Drake. "Corporal Heartford, reporting for duty, sir!" she said, then a wry smile cracked over her face as she crossed her arms and laughed. "Not really. But seeing as how you two seem eager to sleep, I figured I'd introduce myself." The woman says as Drake sighs, then walks to his bed, half-assed saluting the Corporal and then plopping his head down "Gunnery Sergeant Conners. Find your own bed before it gets taken." he says, exhaustion apparent in his voice. As he pulled his feet onto his cot, he heard both the soldiers breaking into light conversation as he himself wondered what was to become of him.
Comments thread is here: http://www.ulmf.org/bbs/showthread.php?t=8733
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