#mercy76week2017

[imlostinatunnel]

Tapes (Day 2 of Mercy76 Week)

So, so sorry this is late, everyone. I’ve been without power for a couple of days and I’m having to travel around to find places with wi-fi still running. Again, I’m really sorry. 

The dirt roads were bumpier than Jack remembered. He slowed the car down, hoping he did not disturb Angela who was in the passenger seat.  It was too late though. She was already stirring in her seat.

“Hmm?” Angela hummed. She rubbed her eyes and sat upright. Her eyes were greeted by the evening’s sun. Unfortunately for her it was still too bright to take in. “Mm!” She whined.

“Good evening,” Jack said. “Sleep well?”

“I’m still tired.” She mumbled, starting to curl back in her seat.

He couldn’t blame her. After going from Europe to Indiana in a little under two days, he expected at least a little bit of jet lag. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” He rubbed her shoulder. No response. She must have been making her way back to her dreams. Jack shifted his attention back to the road. The evening sky was still as breathtaking as he remembered. At least some things haven’t changed, unlike the roads.

The acres of hills and grass soon became acres of farmland with automated combine harvesters every few acres. The sun had set a little farther allowing the first stars become visible. Angela stirred in her seat once more. Her eyes opened to a more welcoming light this time. The vibration of the car moving along the road was enough to wake her to her senses. The first thing she saw was the car’s digital clock.

7:48 PM

Wait, she thought. I was supposed to take the driving over at six! She looked at Jack, who noticed her right away.

“Welcome back.” He said, looking back to the road. “It’s only a few more miles up the road. Good sleep?”

Angela sat herself upright. “Why didn’t you wake me to take over the driving?

“It’s been a few days since you had a good rest. You needed it. Plus, your snoring is cuter than mine. Probably.”

“I don’t snore.” She said, giving him a little punch.

“You weren’t awake. How do you know?”

She punched him a little harder this time.

“Ow! Ok, ok. You don’t snore. It’d still be cuter than mine though.”

He turned on to a road the split the corn fields. At the end was a house. The porch lights were on along with the first floor lights.

“There it is!” He said. Jack looked like he was on the verge of bouncing in his seat.

Angela wanted to be excited as well, but as soon as she saw the house thoughts ran through her head. She has spent almost an entire day in a car. What if his folks don’t like her? she thought. Her hair looked like a larger mess than usual and her attire felt too casual to her. She wanted to look like the best example of Jack’s girlfriend, but now she was having second thoughts.

“Angela, everything ok?”

She looked up. they were already in front of the house. Her breathing felt heavier than normal. She took a deep breath. “Just a little excited,” she said with a forced smile.

Her attempt to try and sound excited it did not fly over Jack’s head. He took careful hold of her hand on her lap.

Angela closed her eyes. She wasn’t fooling him. “What if I don’t live up to their expectations of the perfect woman for their son? I just-”

A hug from Jack cut her off before she could finish.

“I think you’re perfect. No matter what they say that isn’t going to change.” He withdrew from her and pecked her cheek. A soft smile spread across her face. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and stepped out of the car as Jack turned the engine off.

Both of them stood on the porch under the light. Angela took Jack’s hand as he knocked on the screen door. Her grip unconsciously tightened when she heard footsteps on the other side. The lock was undone and both doors opened. An older woman, a little shorter than Angela, stood in front of them. She smiled the instant she saw Jack.

“Jack?” she asked.

“Hi, Mom.” He said. He couldn’t control himself anymore. If he smiled any harder his cheeks would rip apart.

“My goodness, Jack!”

The two hugged each other with no signs of letting go. This was the proof that they had not seen each other for too long.

“I didn’t recognize you at first, you’ve gotten so tall.” She took a step back, but kept a hand on him as if he was about to run away. “But you still look like my little Jack.”

Angela nearly crushed Jack’s hand when his mother turned her attention to her. Stay calm, she thought. First impressions are key. Angela smiled.

“And you must be the Dr. Ziegler my son is always talking about.”

Angela felt a cold sweat run down her back. She braced herself.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, honey.”

Angela must have heard her incorrectly. “Um, th-thank you, Mrs. Morrison.”

“Oh, what am I doing? Please, come in!” She moved out of their way.

Angela was encouraged by Jack to go in first. The inside was felt so different than what she was used to. The light felt warm against her. Everything about it reminded her of Jack. It was all so welcoming. Many of the shelves had nostalgic items dating back into the late 1900s. Angela immediately spied a picture of a young Jack Morrison sitting on one of the automated combine harvesters. He could not have been more than seven, maybe eight.

“Darling, they’re here!” Mrs. Morrison called out from behind them.

Ahead of them was a hallway across from the entrance to the kitchen, just before the living room. An older man turned the corner of the hallway towards them. Angela recognized Jack in him before anything else, including the cane he walked on. He was a little taller than Mrs. Morrison, but still shorter than Angela.

“Oh my good lord. When did our son become a giant?”

“Dad, it’s good to see you!” Jack said as he walked up and gave his father a similar hug he gave his mother. His father returned the gesture with his free arm.

“It’s great to see you too, son!”

“Dad, what happened?” Jack asked as he released his father. He missed the cane at first as well it seemed.

“I’m old, Jack. I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the strange questions. You might end up with one as well when you’re my age.”

“Not if I can help it,” Angela spoke up, with more confidence than earlier.

Mr. Morrison turned towards Angela. He walked over to her letting the cane take the weight with every other step. “So this is the woman that chose our Jack out of everyone else.” He leaned forward but still spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “You sure you know what you’re gettin’ in to, miss?”

Angela smirked a little and looked at Jack who playfully rolled his eyes.

“Now you see what I had to deal with growing up,” Jack said with a smug smirk.

His father turned to Jack. “What you had to deal with? What about what your mother and I had to deal with? Don’t make me get the tapes.”

Jack’s smugness dropped with almost no transition on his face. “No, Dad.” Jack whined. “Please d-“

“Screw it, I’m gettin’ the tapes.”

“Dad, whyyy?” It was too late. His father was already on the move.

To Angela’s surprise, Mr. Morrison moved quickly despite his dependency on a cane.

“Mom, can you stop him please?” Jack was near to the begging stage. He might have started if Angela was not in the same room.

His mother walked to the entrance to the hallway. “Darling,” his mother called out. “What about dinner?”

“Dinner can wait!” Mr. Morrison said from down the hall.

“Sorry, Jack.” His mother smiled at Angela.

Angela wanted to see a young Jack in action. She smiled back at his mother. Somehow she knew it.

“Jack!” His father called. “Come in here and give your old man a hand!”

The whining noises Jack made were ones Angela had never heard before as he walked down the hall.

“Dr. Ziegler, would you like to sit down?” Mrs. Morrison asked from the living room.

Angela did not want to be rude. She nodded and took the couch on the far end of the living room. All around the walls and above the counter bar windowing the kitchen were pictures of Jack and his family. Angela looked down from them. She remembered that she would never have the chance to introduce Jack to her family.

“Are you all right, sweetie?” The voice of his mother was more than welcoming.

Angela smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Mrs. Morrison sat on a single sofa next to Angela’s couch. “I’m no fool, honey. I know pain when I see it. I’m a mother after all.”

Angela Looked back to the pictures on the walls. “I’m just- I can’t introduce Jack to my family the way he can. And seeing your pictures, it’s just...” A tear rolled down her cheek. It was not normal for her to get worked up over her parents anymore. She hasn’t in a couple decades at least. But seeing the pictures reminded her how much she missed them. Mrs. Morrison lightly rubbed her knee. Angela breathed a little easier.

“Dr. Ziegler, my son loves you very much. The way he spoke about you over the phone was the first time I have ever heard him speak that way about anyone, or anything.”

Angela blushed a little. She wondered what Jack had told his parents about her. Hopefully he left some certain details out.

“Now, if my son does give you any trouble that you can’t handle, and you look like you can firmly hold your ground, you let me know. I’ve had to teach him lessons the hard way through all his childhood. I’m not afraid to teach him some more.”

Angela’s laughing made Mrs. Morrison smile. She took a couple of tissue sheets from the stand next to her and dried Angela’s face. “You be sure to let my little Jack know just how lucky he is.”

“Oh, I let him know every time we’re out on the field.”

“You two keep each other safe out there.” Mrs. Morrison said. “I know it can be dangerous, what you two do.”

“Of course, Mrs. Morrison.”

“We found ‘em!” Mr. Morrison said, coming down the hall. He turned in to the living room and was followed by Jack who carried a box with the writing “Little Jack” on it. What he did not carry the same enthusiastic look his father did. “Set it there on the coffee table please, son.”

Jack set the box down and sat next to Angela. Something felt different to him. “Is everything ok, Angela?”

She took his hand and gave him a small kiss in front of his parents. “Everything is just fine,” she said with a smile. Angela got a look at the box’s contents. “Those are all tapes! Do your folks have a working VCR?”

“Indeed we do. Right over there under the shelf the TV is on.” Mrs. Morrison said.

Angela completely missed it. she had never seen one in working order before. It was bulkier than she expected.

“His father loved collecting archaic things from the past. God knows why. He insisted that we film everything on tape,” said Mrs. Morrison. “Until we ran out of his VHS stash.”

“I’ve told you, these are more than just things. These are relics! Ancient relics that hold the memory of Little Jack here.” Mr. Morrison said, rooting around through the box. “Ah ha! Oh, she’ll love this one.

The way the VCR ate the tape took Angela by surprise. Mr. Morrison turned the television on and sat down on the chair next to his wife. On the screen was the entrance to the living room. The camera was being held, judging from its unsteadiness. The stairs in the hallway were visible. Before anyone appeared on screen, the sounds of feet coming down the stairs were accompanied by the childish sounds of gunfire and explosions.

All of a sudden, a boy with blonde hair came from the stairs and ran in to the living room. Angela immediately recognized this boy from the pictures on the walls. Her Jack as a young boy! She leaned forward as much as she could, gripping Jack’s hand. The young Jack on the TV was holding something.

“What do you have there, little Jack?” asked his mother on the TV. Angela was about to ask the same question.

Young Jack acknowledged his mother holding the camera. “Commander Soft Bear!” He said, presenting the stuffed animal to the camera. It was a teddy bear about the size of his arm. It wore an outdated, early 21st century Army uniform. Complete with patches a uniformed hat.

“What does he do?” Asked his mother behind the camera.

“He’s in the military!”

“Do you want to go into the military too?”

“Yeah!”

“What do you want to do in the military, little Jack?”

The young Jack paused for a moment and looked down. After a few seconds he looked back up to his mother. “I’m wanna save the world!”

Angela could not stop giggling over how cute he was. She looked at Jack, who sat with a hand covering his face. She could tell he was holding back a few laughs of his own.

“What do the dog tags say?” asked his mother on the television.

“Huh?”

“Soft Bear’s tags. Can you read them?”

Young Jack turned the bear towards him and brought the tags close to his face. “Teddy 76!”

“And we have your room over here on the left,” Mrs. Morrison said. “This used to be Jacks old room, believe it or not.

Jack did not recognize it at first. The entire room had been re-fitted into a guest room. Jack and Angela set their suitcases on the bed. It was more than big enough for the two of them.

“You two sleep well. it’s a long drive you’ve got tomorrow.” She said before turning the hall light off. The stairs echoed as she walked back up them for the night.

Angela spotted something under one of the pillows. Before Jack could notice it, she removed it. It was the same stuffed teddy bear in the first tape his father showed.

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

Angela turned only her head to him. “It’s Commander Soft Bear!” she said, spinning around with the bear in front of her face. “Can I keep him for the night? Just to snuggle with.”

“But you already have a commander to snuggle with!” Jack playfully whined.

“Oh, I can snuggle with you both I suppose,” she said, hugging him with the bear behind his back. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of this new commander.” She teased.

“Yes I am!” He said.

“Don’t you worry. You’ll always be my Teddy: 76, Jack.” She gave him one last kiss for the night. “Let’s get to bed. I’m driving tomorrow.”

[mercy76week-blog]

Biannual Mercy76 Week

You wanted it so we made it happen!  

That’s right Mercy76 shippers, we’re bringing you a second Mercy76 Week this year!  The annual ship week has now become a biannual event!  

The dates and themes for this specific event were a group effort on behalf of the Mercy76 community.  A survey was created (with 10 date options and 18 theme suggestions).  Participants had one week to cast their votes.  In total, 55 shippers participated with a total number of 288 votes.

With the results in, we are proud to announce our second Mercy76 Week for 2017! It will be September 10 through 16, 2017!  So get your creative juices ready for the week-long event!

 Themes:

Sunday Theme:  Alternative Universe (AU) – Let’s throw our ship into a different world and see what happens! Will they become your favorite characters in a popular anime? Will you send them into space to save the galaxy? Where will your imagination take them?

Monday Theme:  Pre-downfall – Focus is on Jack Morrison and Angela Ziegler.

Tuesday Theme:  Post-downfall – Focus is on Soldier 76 and Mercy.

Wednesday Theme:  Mom and Dad – Because why not?

Thursday Theme:  NSFW – A day dedicated to smut!

Friday Theme:  Freestyle – Like before, you decide!  It’s a free-for-all where everything and anything goes!

Saturday Theme:  Mission – Let's see our lovebirds work together on the battlefield!

If you want to contribute with your works (fanart, fanfics/writing, photos/cosplay, videos/audio, etc.) remember to tag it so others can find it!

Event hashtags:

#mercy76week #mercy76week2 #mercy76week2017 #mercy76day1 #mercy76day2 #mercy76day3  #mercy76day4  #mercy76day5  #mercy76day6  #mercy76day7 #mercy76

We can’t wait to see what everyone creates!  Thank you so much for your support and we’ll see you this September!

Special thanks to @xavirne for designing the flyer and accompanying text and for organizing the survey for the fall Mercy76 Week event.

@xavirne’s commissioned Mercy76 artwork was done by Annabubs.

[abahwrites]

A Single Death

@mercy76week

I know this ends yesterday, but here’s my last submission for day seven: Mission

and yes, a bit free-style.

Jack,

If you’re reading this, I’d probably die or went missing... or went to search for something that I can use to... get a foothold for myself. I know you’re not good with words and how to craft it like a true craftsman and I know that I write better than you.

Jack,

I’m sorry... I shouldn’t take that mission earlier. I don’t know that this mission will cost my life... to save a lot of others. That’s a noble cause, yet my altruism is getting another foothold against my feelings and decisions. I realise that you worried about me and my illness... an incurable disease, yet I rebelled, and now I bite more than I can chew. I face the Death himself.

It has been two days since the first initial attack, many recognised me KIA, but I managed to open my eyes a bit for 0.5 seconds every time a fresh reinforcement come in. The lights flickered uncontrollably, and all I can see is a blurred vision of the world. I don’t know how many times left for me to open my eyes and see you for the last time, nevertheless, I had a little story that I’d like to share with you if you found me take a long dirt nap, under the desk near an old radio.

*

Death sat down beside me. “Angela, what a beautiful name for a Shield-Maiden,” he complimented. “I long to see another Shield-Maiden in the Land of the Dead.” He took a short sigh. “I had a lot of Angelas in the Land of the Dead, but you...” he stopped for a bit and pet my head. “You’re unique.”

“Why?” I said. “I am just a regular Angela with a normal life as a doctor and a field medic, why am I that unique to you, dear Death?”

“You were destined to save others while risking yours.”

“Death, there’s a lot of people that rescue others better than me.”

“They risk their lives for others, but you... risk your life for others... with feelings.” Death said, sipping a glass of a Deathly Wine, it was so fragrant that I can’t hold myself to taste it.

“What are you talking about? Feelings have nothing to do with my job, Death.”

“You stuck with somebody you love that when I called you for a few days, you rejected it and embrace what will happen next,” he stopped. “You keep telling yourself you’re going to be okay that you forgot how painful it is to be shot in the chest three times...” he looked to another dead soldier beside me. “How painful to left this world while you don’t say goodbye to your beloved ones.”

“I guess so.” I shrugged, although it’s hard, I managed to do it.

“Angela, have you ever dreamt about a sky so blue that you feel you were flying in it?” Death asked.

“I have, several times, even.”

“Would you like to go there now?”

“Death, if my death was in vain and beyond saving. I’d like to go there now.” I said while looking at the orange skies of the afternoon. “But the skies are too beautiful for me to left this world.”

“Angela, how I like your tenacity,” Death chuckled. “What will you do if you’re saved?”

“I’d like to stay with my beloved ones and forget everything since this accident,” I said, with a warm smile. “I long to see peace and serenity. Maybe we can talk again, sooner or later.”

“What a noble choice, Angela,” Death touched my shoulder. “You should remember that you have an incurable sickness. I can lift it off from you, but you promise me something in return.”

“What would you like to trade with me?”

“I’d like to buy your sickness with love. A Love from Death.”

I blushed, hard. “Death, don’t flatter me like that!” I laughed for a bit. “I don’t want to see my fiancée’s face getting all confused and ask why I’m blushing when I was on the brink of my death.”

“I thought you were single.” He joked.

“No, I’m engaged.”

Death stood up. “Anyway, I have to go, I had to collect lost souls of your comrades,” he picked up some of my comrades on his hands. “I guess you better get some rest, I feel your fiancée is coming right now.”

“Thanks, Death.”

“No. Thank you. I learnt a lot from you, now, Angela.”

I gasped. “You... You’re welcome.”

He smiled. “Keep praying for someone to come and make your life worth living, Angela.”

Then, he fades away.

*

Ah, sentimental Death – what could you expect?

Hey, do me a favour, will you?

From Betelgeuse to Saturn, how’d my Marshmallow Cake tastes?

Ah, enough joking, I don’t want you to find me dying in laughter. Literally!

Like, who’s excited to see someone died while they’re laughing hard, right?

I hope this doesn't make the extraction awkward.

 Winky Wink Boom Pow!

Angela Ziegler.

[0ldsoldiersneverdie]

Mercy76 AU - The Witch and the Soldier

She was lounging on her couch, curled up underneath a blanket reading another magic book by firelight. Comfortable after a day full of healing and helping others, she glanced over as the door rattled on its hinges. There was a storm going on right now, and she was curled up with the fire in the fireplace. The door rattled again, and she glanced over at it again, narrowing her eyes for a moment. This wasn’t normal, even for storm weather.

She shifted, reaching for her wand, and holding onto it, pointed at the door as it rattled again. The door burst open with a flurry of cold and rain, as in stumbled her partner in crime, the Soldier.  Over his shoulder was the headless Reaper. “Where is his head?”

“In a bag on my back. Where can I put him? The alchemist got to him.”

“That table over there please.” She pointed over to her operating table, and stood up, wrapping herself in a house coat. Moving over to close the door, she locks it and then moved over with the Soldier who’s gaunt face was staring at her with unwavering anxiousness.

She glanced over the pumpkin looking for damage. There was nothing, and that was good. She reached inside and relit the candle, and left the pumpkin at the head of the corpse. “Come on Soldier, come dry off and warm up next to the fire. Thank you for bringing him back to me.” She said softly, gently pulling him towards the fire and conjuring up a towel for the Soldier to dry off with. He sat down on the floor in front of the fire, toweling his hair after removing his jacket to set it up on the chair there.

“Where did you find him?” she asked softly as she curled up under her blanket again, carefully watching the man who was drying off in her living room.

“He was laying in a prison. They were talking about cremating him, without another thought. I’m on every wanted list now for freeing him. But he’s a good man, even if he’s the headless horseman.” Soldier rubbed across his face.

“How is the enchantment on you holding up Soldier?” She smiled at his answer, before she shifted and conjured another blanket.

“Well enough. I appreciate the help. It’s...making it easier to get through the days. When can I fade away?”

“Soon. I promise. We’re nearly done, and we can all rest.” The Witch, letting her illusion around her body fall, revealing the older woman who looked very tired. The Soldier, sure he was dry, moved over to her and lifted her up into his arms, carrying her towards her bedroom, laying her down on her bed, moving back to the living, only to be stopped by a hand around his wrist.

“Stay with me tonight? It’s cold, and you’re...warm.” She asked softly.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that it was a bad idea. But she had given him extra time on earth, and he owed her a lot. And deep down, he loved her, just like he had when they had been young teenagers together. He stripped down to his boxers, before he slipped in the bed next to her, holding her close to his unbeating heart.

“Anything for you.”

[0ldsoldiersneverdie]

Day two - PreDownfall

Jack could trust everyone in his organization. But the one person he trusted above maybe even Reyes was the good Doctor Ziegler. She was always so calm and dedicated to her work. However, the last few times he had been checking up on Genji’s progress, she had been looking rather tired. So he cleared his schedule, and hers (some days it paid to be the boss) and scheduled a relaxing day for her. With him.

The morning of their day off, Jack met her with a cup of coffee and a smile. “Come on Dr. Ziegler, it’s time to relax and enjoy some free time with me.” He held his hand out to her. She looked a little hesitant before putting her hand in his.

“We’re not at work Commander, you can call me Angela if you prefer.”

“Only if you’ll call me Jack.” He replied with a teasing smile as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Jack led her towards his car, opening the door for her, and letting her get in before he closed the door and slid in on the other side. Starting the car, he pulls out of the lot, heading for the quiet spot he had set out for them to enjoy the day. He was thankful that it wasn’t raining, and he glanced over at the good doctor who was smiling as he drove. If she could relax for the day, then he was happy.

When they reached the park area, he pulled in and turned his car off, getting out and heading for the trunk to pull out a basket, and a blanket, tossing it over his shoulder as he moved over to help her from his car. Once the car was closed up and locked, he again took her hand, heading for a tree and laying the blanket down.

“Jack...Are we going on a picnic?”

He glanced up at her, catching her crystal blue eyes with his dark blue ones, and smiled. “Yes Angela, we’re going on a picnic.”

Her giggle and her smile were perfect, and everything he could have wanted. He sat down and unpacked their lunch, handing her a sandwich to unwrap and enjoy. She sat down next to him, legs tucked under her, ever the lady, and took the food from him, flushing red for a moment. He was confused, until she pulled him forward gently with his shirt front and kissed him softly.

“I’m glad you remembered.”

“As if I would forget our anniversary Angel.”

[abahwrites]

Tranquility

When you grab ahold of me, 

Tell me that I’ll never be set free.

Dear, Jack.

How was it on the battlefield for you, Strike Commander? I hope the battle is fair and uh… I hope you’re fine. It’s a burden for me to know you got wounded heavily without my knowledge. Anyway, I have researched an innovation for all of us to use and soon will reach the streets for commercial purposes. I will conduct several tests on numerous willing subjects, and I will tell you how it goes from here in the next two or three days.

While I write this letter to you, Jack, I almost tripped over sunset. It was not the best moments, but I’m sure as the sun is setting and people coming home to see their families… I was wondering about you if you got the same sunset as I have here right now. With my window gave me a hundred percent look of sunset and the grass fields below it, it’s almost surreal that I thought to myself that I was in a storybook! It’s so calming that my serenity has given up to the sunset. It’s so beautiful that I can never beat it. It was purple-ish orange, and people are amazed this afternoon, no wonder that many of us take a picture with it. As for me, this evening reminds me of you and a lot of things we could do. Alas, a job is still a job. You fight on a battlefield, I tend to patients here in Swiss HQ. I heard rumours that you will come back anytime soon, they didn’t give me any details about it.

Do you have any thoughts about sunset and afternoon? Let me know when you able to reply this short message, Jack.

Miss you so much,

Dr Angela Ziegler

Second submission for the second day: Pre-Downfall

This was written when I look at the sky and found tranquility in my soul. Because I tripped myself over sunset. It was so beautiful that I had to write this.

Cheers.

[abahwrites]

Tranquility - The Reply

Dear Angela,

My battle is over, now, my beloved Medic. I am ready to come home at any time soon, and I'm all right, should you requested my current condition. Like I said as always, you don’t need to worry about me. There’s a lot of field medics that took a good care of me, and I’ll inform you as fast as I could that I needed your care—I mean, your compassion… No… I mean your medical proficiency. I’m glad that your occupation helped a lot of people and our soldiers anytime soon! I couldn’t wait to see what you bring to the table for us to enjoy (by the way, I miss your Marshmellow Cake with Swiss Chocolate topping). Do not inform me any of the results you gathered from the test. It’s disturbing for me, at least.

Since when a sunset can trip you over, Angie? The only thing I know that you tripped on your books that lay on the floor when I first met you not too long ago. Now I’m laughing that I know the Queen of an international school in Swiss has just tripped over a rock when playing volleyball and I had to rescue you to prevent your plump butt dents. For all I know from the boys back then, you don’t like when your butt is straightened and small. You’re more worried about your ass than your grades back then, right? How I love you, Angie. How I love you.

I do get the same sunset as yours, it’s so beautiful that I can’t think of anything but your lovely, sea blue eyes and your golden blonde hair. Maybe it’s not purple-ish orange, but sunset and evening are the perfect combinations of real life tranquillity. I had 100 percent view of the sunset when I rode my tank with my mates from 105th, with grass fields filled with flowers, we stopped… And play around it. Without our tank, of course. I’m not as metaphorical as you, but I hope this letter find your inner-self laughing and… Well, enjoying what I write here. I took a picture of the sunset once with my mates in 143rd Pork Chop Squadron, it wasn’t a beautiful one, but as a sunset aficionado, you will found it calming and share the same serenity as yours. About my retirement… I had to wait for another week until I get back home, they maybe not telling you anything but for all I know within my squad, I get back home in no more than a week or so.

Do you want to see a sunset? I couldn’t give you pictures, but sure I can take you to see that again… together. That’s what I think about an evening, by the way. And when I get back home, we celebrate our 15th Anniversary, right? (I hope you remember that!)

See you back home, sweetie. Can’t wait to sleep on your back plushies and sure you’ll miss sleeping on my triplex abs.

Winky Wink Boom Pow!

Jack Morrison.

P. S. I want Marshmallow Cake with Swiss Chocolate topping when I get home. No excuses…

P. P. S. No… Just kidding, we will make it together, won’t we?

[abahwrites]

Welcome to Leaking Tarps, Pt. 1A

The bleached photograph made Angela conscious of her age, of how much time had passed – and what an exciting life she’d had. In a box full of crumpled letters, unsorted, and messy alphabetical wonders; a photograph of her with her fiancée is nothing more than a piece of paper with a digital drawing on it. She sighed as she put it back to where it belongs. She lights up the campfire to create a warmer shelter for the night; she once was a doctor, Angela once saving people’s lives, now with only a campfire in a barrel, she could only fold her hands tight to avoid the frigid weather. It has been several days since the lights went out and people are panicking like crazy. They thought when the lights out, there’ll be a catastrophic event that led many people died in their brethren’s hands. Angela would rub her chin and wonder if people lost their minds about love. Or was it something else? The box quickly entered her bag as she reloads her pistol, looking for another pack of supplies for the night.

It was six a.m.. The sun shines brightly, gives hope, dream, and another kill. The box creates a loud, jiggling sound that everyone can hear from tens of meters away, to make sure her safety is guaranteed 100 percent, she puts the box under the bridge and starts to search for supplies in downtown. Angela got only three bullets for today’s killing floor; she can never rely on this cursed weapon all day, all night. It’s a strange moment in the northern hemisphere to have the sun shines that bright. She approached an abandoned house with all of its furnishings intact. A candle stood there with its wax, still dimly lighting the room; to begin her second week of the survival of the humanity, there’s a dead body.

Today’s going to be interesting. Angela thought to herself as she searches the body for a small amount of ammunition or a waterskin. She founds another photograph instead of what she’s looking for, she gave it a look for a second and narrowed her eyes, there’s a number 17 and a cross inside a circle on the picture that correlates with an empty, blue, plastic barrel. Knowing that this image is interesting enough for a doctor like her, Angela pocketed it and went outside. She walks carefully and cautiously, observing her surroundings and found nothing but carcases of humans, beasts, and animals alike.

What she didn’t know is she began the day two hours ago with a sharp pain in her head and her neck, and she didn’t have any idea where it came from. She is waking up under that bridge that night feeling unconscious. All that she remembers from the last session of her conscious stage is she is running from a mob of undead, got her head smacked into a bent street lamp pole and off she goes falling off beneath the bridge. What a rotten luck. She chuckled and remembered the whole thing about what happened last night, slowly.

Drifting through the unscribbled streets of an Unnamed Town, with all of its contents like dead bodies, several happy families that seem to plunder everything, a horde of undead, and a mob of corrupted man and woman. Unnamed Town has been a pleasant journey for all of its visitors, with the Ancient Waterfall as their main tourist attraction, not to mention several huge art galleries scattered in this little settlement. Aside from that, the Unnamed Town seems to host many, many hospitable community members and peoples, continuously helping those who in need, be it a neighbour or even a complete stranger that just wander around town last night. Unnamed Town has many undiscovered talents, hundreds of them in one Texas-sized city. Those who born in Unnamed Town is either rich enough to live like kings, quite average to taste the upper-middle class dishes, and unfortunate enough to appreciate the praise of art collectors and critiques.

Angela enters the gun shop for any ammunition left by its owners, kicking through dead bodies and rotten stench of the undead makes the search even more painful to bear in her mind. She founds a good, factory new, automatic shotgun. It’s the newest shipment, coming through town for maybe two or three days before the blackout. The owner didn’t want to sell this baby girl. Angela told herself and inspected the shotgun. It uses .12ga shells and if you talk about this bad boy of a bullet, in the Unnamed Town – everything as expensive as .12ga is rare. The 12 Gauge itself is the second most powerful shotgun shells available in Unnamed Town, due to the rarity of its kind, many people decided to ship it from nearby cities, notably the Fredericksburg, known as “The Gunsmiths.” These “Gunsmiths” don’t play nice with people outside the town of Fredericksburg and the Unnamed Town, so Angela thought that to get a pretty neat deal with the Gunsmiths is the best thing she can do to ensure her survival rate at this point.

It is very unusual for her to sleep at eight a.m. but finding the gun shop is safe enough for resting her body, head, and her sanity. She dreamt about laying on the grass with her fiancée, somewhere outside Unnamed Town, wind swaying their hairs as they danced on the grass field. They run across many mountain flowers and beautiful butterflies, and it sounds like heaven until she tried to chase that dream, forlorn. She keeps running and running through that thought and finally awaken by a poke.

Angela gasped. “Who... who are you?”

The man replied. “Nothing to worry, I just a survivor trying to book it out of here.”

“Thank God you weren’t undead.” Angela sighed in relieve. “So, who are you?”

“As I said, I am just a survivor. My name is not that necessary for you to know.”

“Alright. Where are you heading to?” Angela asked the man while giving him her spare waterskin.

The man took the waterskin and drinks a bit from it. “Well, the news about the Gunsmiths is accurate. They are defending themselves from a constant attack from anywhere, probably bandits. These bandits aren't your regular ones, and they are who can craft anything out of something. They called themselves the Forge. Its leader is undoubtedly the descendant of the famous blacksmithing family, Raeder Forge. Now, you can guess where they got their name, right?” The man took another sip and returned it to Angela. “Thanks for the drink.”

“I see, now, what would you like to inform me?” Angela asked. “Sure, glad I can help.”

The man reported. “Well, the Gunsmiths, led by a man named Norman Fire-Serpent wants everyone from Unnamed Town, preferably alive to aid them against the Forges. If you fancy gunfights, I’ll be at their front entrance to make sure you’re not with the Forge on your way to Fredericksburg.”

Angela nodded. “Thanks, I’ll be in touch with you. Good luck.”

The man stood up and make a run for it. “You too, whoever you are.”

As soon as the man walks out from the gun shop and book it out of there as quick as he could, Angela stays for a little more time to see if she can find another set of ammunition for the shotgun. She also didn’t forget to barricade the whole place to make it a little safer... for now. Angela finds herself in serenity when it comes to inscribe and to ruin walls with words of hopelessness or words of wisdom. She wrote Angela was here. That’s a funny one, and she continued it with poorly-drawn Unnamed Town’s skyscrapers and wrote underneath it.

God Put Mercy. Have a faith. With a bouquet of flowers underneath the sentence.

Angela found an old sniper rifle laying on the floor and use it as her primary weapon for picking off the undead from top of the gun shop, alas, she got only one bullet. She sighed and facepalmed and went back down, re-barricading everything for the night. Whatever Angela did for herself will likely to have greater consequences of getting killed, plundered, or even taken as a slave by the local bandits. Angela went back up to the rooftop, and she risked it anyway. She took a shot, and the bullet penetrates up to four undead behind the first one. One shot, five kills. Angela boasted while pulling the bolt backwards. Angela went down to the gun shop, trying to make a makeshift camp for the night with camouflage nets, ghillie suits, and set up a night vision binoculars to scout for anything useful. Although the lights went out since the dawn of the undead, she still has her phone on her hands and a few camcorders.

Angela cautiously put all the recording devices all around the gun shop. During the night, she couldn’t get sleep. The groans, the grunts, the gurgles of the undead made her uneasy. Later that evening, she cautiously awake from her slumber to see the wandering undead among a hundred lying dead in the streets and the rubbles of the Unnamed Town. It’s still 02:00 a.m. and the grunts of that undead is getting louder and louder. In between her sanity and questions that never answered, she feels pity about those who turned into such beast. Preying on the lesser ones, praying that this curse will end – or at least someone put out their misery. She uses the night vision binoculars to observe more and more undead that come into her sight, the situation is nothing more than depressive, and it was hell. A living hell. For either Angela and the Undead. For the greater good of the undead, she prayed and continue to sleep – hoping that with sleeping she could get rid the hellish look of what she saw earlier. Fredericksburg may only 10 miles far, but to get there – it requires a helluva luck and critical thinking. Well, since then, Angela didn’t know that the Unnamed Town, her residence is a part of a bigger city called Yanksborough. A Texas-sized city, well known as the Leaking Tarps to the survivors.

Welcome to the Leaking Tarps, Angela. I hope you survive another day. Angela said to herself after looking a wanderer-made map.

She gave a look to the map. She saw four cities, and it’s all connected to the Unnamed Town. She only knows Unnamed Town, her residence, and the Gunsmiths of Fredericksburg – the only known blacksmith city that sells many weapons and knives alike. The other three were Macbury, Orefield, and Brimchester. The three known as Patient Zero for Macbury, the Medieval for Orefield, and No Man’s Land for Brimchester. There’s also a side note on the map.

“Never go to the No Man’s Land where you coming from Patient Zero, and don’t dare to travel to the Medieval when you’re from Gunsmiths. The Unnamed Town (Leaking Tarps) is the safest place of all.”

Pre-written second submission for day 1: Alternate Universe

[abahwrites]

A Trade Between Love and Lie.

FAIR WARNING: HEAVY ANGST-ISH.

Dear, Mercy (or Angela or whoever you are, I didn’t seem to recall)

All life is a mystery. A sentence that I curse so much that it hurts the most of me. I can’t remember how much time I spend on my old days sitting down on my balcony to blankly stare at the sun… To see if seeing the sun could help eradicate my mind from you. From you who takes people’s life, now. Every sunrise I woke and sunset I slept, an imagery of you appears in front of me, begging to set free. Begging for mercy (hence your alias right now). Begging to me that there’s still a way to release you. Someday, but the day hasn't yet come to my plea. Your troops have found their way to my home. To our house. Spreading bullets and blood with no mercy, ruthlessly. I fight them for days and weeks, but it seems impossible and the challenge’s getting harder and harder as I try to grab a foothold in a house where love once bloom, where compassion flourished, and romanticism seems real, not a genre of fiction.

All things come to he who waits. A sentence that I believed for so long that I know it’s just a lie. He who waits never came to me, feeling disbelieved, I crush everything in front of me. Our marriage photo book, your recruit’s skull, and many things that I remember with you in it. This is my last letter, probably. I don’t know what to say any more about our relationship. It’s kinda hard for me to understand what’s going on with your reprobate mind. Alas, if I know about this earlier—maybe I will drive back home and sit on an old bench in my basement, reminiscing everything once we had that now destroyed. To pieces.

Both your eyes wide open, as if a gate welcomes another citizen when cities end and begin with a gate. You always see the shape I’m in right now, every day, every minute, and every year of your life. Now, it’s not what you think anymore. It’s not something you’d like to see in museums, but this shape is something you’ll see on the streets—flown by the wind to nowhere to ended up in nowhere also.

This is not what I choose, whoever you are. This is not what I want, but I had to. You see, we are all just a pile of bones and skins, merged together by He-Who-Waits to be a human being. Your degree in everything is just meaningless. I don’t want to disappoint you, but this is what I learned from a metal song about life, love, and everything in between it.

If loving you’s a crime. Go on find me guilty.

Yours truly,

Jack.

The bloodied letter finally crumpled and burned to ashes as Angela tries to hold her sadness in front of her assault team. Two shotguns covered in blood and a broken pistol laying on the ground, a sign that Jack gave a real hell for Angela’s boys, defending everything he could save, protecting the past that should be forgotten. Without any doubts, she breached the house and destroying everything not worthed remembering. The assault team stays on the first floor while Angela searched for another clue or letter left by her husband around the house, not until Angela found her only daughter, Melissa, tied to a chair in the basement. She is 8 years old.

Angered by what Jack did to their daughter, she cut the rope and immediately hugged the child. “Are you alright, my little Mel?”

Melissa pushed her mother. “Who’s alright? You or me?”

“What... what are you talking about?” Angela asked. “No child talks that way to their mother.”

Melissa angered. “I’m talking about how dad lied to me about your disappearance,” she calmed a little bit and cried. “How could you lie to him when he lied to me, Mother? What happened to you?”

Angela swept away Melissa’s tears. “I’m sorry, little Mel. I couldn’t...”

Melissa angered and cried. “You couldn’t what? Couldn’t trust him enough, so you joined that terrorist group I saw on TV months ago?” She threw a brick to Angela’s right foot but missed. “Don’t you know how many times and money he spent to feed and give me proper utensils for my life? Don’t you realised how hard his life when you lied to him but innocently claiming yourself to be “kidnapped?”

Angela shed a tear. “This is not what it looks like, Melissa...”

Melissa boomed and raised her eyebrows in disbelieve. “What it looks like to you, then? A fucking theatrical?”

“Melissa!” Her mother shouted, she couldn’t believe what her little daughter just said.

Melissa shook her head. “I don’t give any damn to your life, Mother. If he’s alive right now and you took me away from his hands...” her tone deepens. “He knows that the money he spent on you and me weren’t worthed at all.” she sighed.  “I am thoroughly disappointed in you, Mother. I wish dad married a better woman than you, but now... a long dirt nap is what he deserved after eight years living without his beloved widow.” Then, she asked a question about her mother’s sanity, politely. “What happened to you?”

Melissa let out another sigh, shook her head and left the basement. Angela bowed down a little and looked at her hands and asked a question to her sanity. “What happened to me?” as she looked at her hands, the photographs began to haunt her later years... living all alone with something she could cherish for eternity.

First submission for the third day: Post-Downfall.

Introducing... Melissa Ziegler, Jack and Angela’s only daughter!

[abahwrites]

Are You A Weirdo Too?

(Inspired by my messy bedroom)

Thanks to Sublime for their awesome hit “Badfish” that gave me this idea.

There he is, sitting down on an old stool. Typing, writing, and listening to every single song he illegally downloaded from the internet to keep him entertained throughout his two-months day-off. I am there, watching him from behind the door frame. He seems doesn’t care about his surroundings and continue everything he must do, be it his assignments or avenging newbies on an MMO team-based game, one of his favourite genres of games, with Hana or Lena.

And there’s him. He who always cheers me up when I’m not in the mood for everything, he who stole my happiness to share it together with me, he who showed me things about his surroundings and its additional info. He who loved me at all costs, no matter what trouble he must overcome, he always there for me. Even I didn’t like it, and I don’t even care about it. When I ventured deeper to the downtown area, there’s always an image of him flying around me, gives me warmth and safety – although he doesn’t like to fight. There’s always a picture of him everywhere I go, everywhere I stay. His smile, his mumbling about the future. It’s like Saturn change its place with Earth, and suddenly Saturn was the most fertile planet in the whole universe.

The room overlooked a beach below, alongside a beach wall further to the east. It’s relatively rare to see an introvert like Jack who likes to take a walk on the beach, meeting beach boys and lifeguards, and hanging out with surfers. I happen to be an introvert, too, but I never step outside my house if that’s not necessary. Even in his old age, his love isn’t unbeatable. Even tied to those who were in love since a young age. His love for beaches, surfing, sailing, and reggae music, in general, makes him something that I didn’t want but I’d like to keep it for long.

“Jack, shouldn’t you take care of your room today, hon?” I asked while cleaning up the mess.

Jack excused. “I was going to do it today, but I feel that the sea vibes caught me off guard and I didn’t want to do anything today. In short, no.”

I asserted. “How can a woman love a man who didn’t care about his cleanliness?” Then, I continued. “I may have run and bed with someone else cleaner than you, Jack. But, I am no cheater to a relationship, so I stay.”

Jack grabbed my hands. “Tell me, my little cheetah...” he flirted. “Lord knows I’m weak, I smoke weed and drink two pints. But still, I will do anything for my little bunny,” He got up from his chair and immediately took the broom. “Let me clean this up for you, hon. You can watch TV or something, yeah? Sounds good?”

I pinched his cheeks. “Aww, you’re a deal-breaker, Jack,” I went to have a rest on his bed, the most comfortable thing in his house. “I’m going to sleep in your bed for a while, and please don’t disturb me.”

It was late afternoon, and the sea vibes are strong in this house. The winds from the sea below make everything so calm that I can’t do anything but to rest on his bed. Several minutes before five, Jack picks up his guitar and play some chords downstairs, and he certainly has the best taste in regards to architecture. Reggae has been in his life longer than I am in his heart, but that doesn’t mean he neglected me all the time and focused on reggae and stuff. He’s the best man I can get. The best man to keep.

He put down the guitar near the door frame. “Ang, do you want to go to the beach?” He offered. “I hate to see your beautiful butt in the house all day. It’s time for you to get out to the beach and enjoy it.”

“I… I wasn’t good at socialising with people, especially your friends,” I said, telling an excuse to not wanting to go outside.

Jack pinched my cheeks. “You don’t need to socialise if you can enjoy the sunset, right?"

“Ouch, you bastard! Don’t pinch me like that.”

Jack flirtatiously threatened me. “But you must go with me, or I don’t feed you for the rest of the week.”

I said, reluctantly. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” I closed my eyes for a couple seconds and went with him afterwards.

Jack opened the front door, and I can feel the calming breeze swaying my head back and forth. Not my hair, but my head. It’s so calming that listening to reggae rock songs makes you want to lay down on the white sands, listening to seagulls and the waves striking the land.

Jack frowned at me. “Why are you smiling and looking to the skies uncontrollably, Ang? Something makes you instantly fell in love or what?”

I jolted. “I… I… No… I just happen to think something incredibly funny when I browsed the web last night,” I scratched my head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m weird.”

Jack tilted his head and snapped his finger. “Weirdo with the plump butt? You’re  my kind of girl I’d like to date.”

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

"What?" Jack replied, innocently.

I realised, touched and covered my butt in embarrassment. “Don’t you do that again to me, Strike Commander,” I pointed my finger to his nose, threatening. “Or I sue you and tell the whole committee to downrank you.”

Jack shushed. “Keep it down low and let the other members didn’t know how weird the two of us, okay?”

I kissed him on the cheek, an unusual behaviour towards your boss man. “Okay. Let this unique relationship be our strange secret.”

Jack asked. “Are we dating yet?”

“No,” I replied with a smile on my face. “We’re just... “Friends.”

Jack nodded. “I hear ya. Loud and clear.”

My first submission for the second day: Pre-Downfall.

More to come soon.

Is a fluff? I think.

[abahwrites]

Welcome to Leaking Tarps, Pt. 1B

The rumours of the fight at the Gunsmiths was true, Gunsmith was not that far from the gun shop. Her keen hearing and sharp eyes for details made her find the Gunsmith’s area easily, the Survivor that she met the other night is waiting for her at the front gate. Angela has two options, whether joined the fight or sneak through the back door, stealing every bit of ammunition and book it out to the Medieval, a short-lived mining city, covered in food and supplies. Facing hard decisions, she eventually chooses to steal supplies from Gunsmith and book it out to the Medieval. At least I didn’t need to grief any losses before this ends, right? She said to herself while running through the forest, avoiding unwanted attention. The thick forest provides to be quite an advantage, along her way seeking the back door, no one sees her – as she thought everything would be fine, she met one of the soldiers from the Forge. Well, shit. I hope they didn’t kill me. Angela cursed.

“Hey, you! Come over here,” The Soldier commanded. “We are the great forces of the Forge requires your assistance.”

“What is it?”

The soldier said. “We are planning to ambush them from here, but it seems the Chief of Command doesn’t want us to continue this program. We will give you this old assault rifle, complete with night vision scope, a fore grip, 400 additional ammunition, and an extra grenade for you to use wherever you may found your way,” he continued. “Do you know where their back door is? We couldn’t let our comrades die that fought from the front.”

Angela nodded. “I was looking for the same destination as yours, but it’s better to find it together,” she continued. “I can help, let’s go.”

The soldier gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect! Just perfect!” he turned on his field radio. “Bring the tanks, boys! Let’s tear Gunsmith for good.”

The Forge kept their promises, despite being harsh to females and treated them as slaves. They gave Angela what they offered at first, and with a smile on her face, as the Forge attacked the Gunsmith from either side of their settlement, Angela found a way to their ammunition and arsenal depots, stealing one .338 Sniper Rifle, two 9mm pistols, and loads of ammunitions. As soon as the Gunsmith fell into Forge’s hands, the surviving members of the Gunsmith are either escaped to Patient Zero or taken as a prisoner by the Forge. The Survivor’s fate is unknown.

Was I right about turned my back on that survivor?

One Forge soldier came up. “Thank you for your assistance. Here is your reward as promised and may you find a safe haven for yourself,” he continued. “Here, the Forges Seal. Use this whenever you found yourself in Forge’s territory, they know that you are a friend of the Forge and they maybe give you a little discount on weapons and ammunitions.”

Dragging her body to the hard streets of Gunsmith makes her skin itch. There is a certain feeling that she couldn’t handle, a sense that stuck in her mind for too long, way too long. Even for her age, that feeling is not going to left her body soon enough. It’s been more than a month since she awakens with back pain and a severe headache. With four weapons at her disposal, it’s time to sell one of them for a good amount of food. One she did not expect to be a serious problem, starvation.

She looked everywhere, to the world where she used to live. All she can see now is death, destruction, and doom. Fiery buildings scattered the skies with smokes and fires, the stench of the dead, and empty cartridges make it even worse. With a shotgun in her hands and pistol on her hips, it seems surreal to walk on a street where she once finds her true love. She found an abandoned building, safe enough for her to sleep for a night, she spreads the bedroll and builds a little campfire. The weather of Gunsmith is not that bad, even at nighttime. She hugged her knee and think.

Was I right to turn my back on him? Was I emotionless enough that I don’t care about anyone but myself?

And acid rain pours down from the sky, washing over the ground below, cleaning the infected blood and guts of the dead, washing over the walking dead. Angela still hugging her knee on a chair, sitting down and looking at the streets below her carefully. Angela drank a tea made from rain water, boiled for a bit. It was not her most pleasant drink, but it calms her when she thinks about how many people she could save if she joined the medic team from Patient Zero.

Was I right to kill an innocent man, trying to live off the land, and ends up killed or captured by the Forge?

Am I evil?

A continuation to “Welcome to Leaking Tarps, Pt. 1A” (Shit’s too long, so I split in two). Submission for day 1: Alternate Universe.