|Freedom Figthers: Sympathy can Cost alot
Author: THE TEMPLAR OF THE STATES PM
A young Communist girl nurses a teenage Freedom Fighter back to health after an engagement with the local Militia and the Occupation forces. Not to mention, the girl’s father is the one who ordered all freedom fighters hunted down. She must make a choice,Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Romance - Words: 960 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 5 - Published: 05-22-06 - id: 2952965
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I do not own anything pertaining to the Freedom Fighters Franchise. However the Original Characters I mention during the story, I do.
Summary: A young Communist girl nurses a teenage Freedom Fighter back to health after an engagement with the local Militia and the Occupation forces. Not to mention, the girl's father is the one who ordered all freedom fighters hunted down. She must make a choice, turn the teen into her father or join them and run. This is her story.
Written for Ro. She's saved my ass. Like this, except less dramatic.Rosie cheeks
Gunfire sounded down the street, cutting through the air as though it were a warmed knife through butter.
A girl sat quivering in her room, as the gunfire came ever closer to her home. She was especially scared because for all she knew, her father was outside defending that very house.
Though she grew up in a military household, she was still a girl. She needed to be taken care of, and having a father in the Communist Red Army didn't help. Especially when he moved her to a war-zone. Where fighting was everyday, every hour: Hell even every few minutes.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from near the house she heard it. Not far from her a few bullet holes flew through the concrete wall, causing her to scream. She got up and ran downstairs.
She was quiet. Then the gunfire stopped. And all one could hear was the static calls of a retreat. "FALL BACK, GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" these "freedom fighters" yelled. All they were, were guerrillas of the west, those who did not know when to quit.
She sat quietly, arms wrapped around her knees. Rocking back and forth. Fearing anything that might jump up at her. As she started to calm down, she heard voices outside from the basement window, then a barrage of gunfire. And weirdly enough, blood splattered on the window, and a thump.
She was scared, she quickly armed herself wit her Fathers old bayonet. It was from when her father was a Spetnaz soldier, and not the brass of the Russian military.
It was still sharp. The blade shined in the dim light, and the rest was covered in a light retardant.
But as she did, someone crawled through the window, and landed on the concrete floor with a heavy thump, several weapons and things clanging as he slammed into the ground. As soon as the person landed blood began to pool from an open wound near the person's chest and ribs.
Rosie, or Rosalyn Markaroff, slowly approached the downed fighter, knife drawn. Pointed downward, ready to attack. The person moaned, in discomfort as he reached behind him to feel the blood. He rolled, but as he caught sight of her. He drew his pistol. A real Colt .45, legendary weapon of freedom fighters. Clicking the hammer back as he raised it in her direction. But lacked the strength to pull the trigger and his arm felt limp to the ground.
Rosie, gave him a grin and strolled up to him. She kneeled near his upper body. She took the knife and raised it near his throat, and cursed in disgust of him. "Pizda." But as she did, he grabbed up at her hand with his free hand and gurgled. "Help me. Please!"
She quickly dislodged herself from his iron grip. And was taken aback, from his determination to survive. He coughed blood, right onto her chest.
She backed away, but was torn between whether or not to save someone that would most likely have shot her but a few seconds before. She reached over to the dying soldier. His breath was coughed, with a deathly chill to its harmonic sound. It was hoarse, and dry, but with a sickly gurgle at the end. She knelt down again, and reached over to his wound. And plugged it with her petite finger. And reached over for the knife and slowly but precisely sliced a piece of her skirt off, and began to remove her finger, when she heard a moan from him. A sound signifying extreme discomfort. The hole was plugged yet again by the piece of skirt.
Suddenly a radio call went off, from a radio at the girl's hip. It was loud and clear. "I am coming back my daughter." She was frantic. She had just saved the life of a freedom fighter.
Quickly she hauled the soldier by his vest as fast as she could behind some random boxes for storage, in the basement. Then she grabbed a thick wool blanket and threw it atop of him. Making sure it covered him completely. Then she ran upstairs, and washed the freedom fighters blood off of her chest and face. And changed her t-shirt, throwing the blood speckled one in the hamper. And closing the bathroom door, but not before further hiding the shirt under other clothing. Then she ran back to the other part of the house.
She sat silent, in her father's chair, waiting for him to show up. As he did, she tried to look presentable, even if she had just committed a crime. As such, the highest count of treason.
He hugged his daughter, unaware of what she did. Showing her love, especially since she was his reason for being.
Is that not the same with all parents?
A.N. authors note--will the Red officer/father of the girl, forgive his daughter for the crime, when will he find out, how will he find out.
Tips and suggestions are always welcome and well warranted. Shout outs to Ro, Christine and Mike.
TEMPLAR OF THE STATES'