One of the things I do for my stories is create a playlist to go along with them, you'll find the link for this chapter's playlist on my homepage; just click the link, click play, and let the awesome tuneage flow. This isn't something that's required to enjoy the story, just something that will enhance the whole experience.
This story takes place in the Capital Wasteland 200 years after the bombs fall, but it well also heavily feature flash blacks to the Chinese/American War and what lead to the bombs being dropped in the first place.
UPDATE: Because Fanfiction thought it would be cute to remove the page breaks in every single one of my fucking stories I've had to go through every chapter I've written for Project Ice Man and replace them, however while I was doing that I noticed some irritating problems with some of my earlier chapters that needed fixing, now normally my busy schedule does not allow for such trivialities but luckily for you the reader I'm completely broke at the moment. Which in addition to making it difficult to keep myself supplied in beer, lawn darts, and Jonas Brothers posters makes having a social life somewhat awkward, so I currently have loads of free time on my hands...yay for me...anywho, having nothing better to do I went ahead and tweaked the writing a bit so that it flows a little better with the rest of the story. Enjoy =D
Jason hated doctor's offices with a fucking passion having spent all too much time with his ass hanging out the back of a hospital gown while being man handled by some dickhead who he was expected to obey because he had an extra two letters attached to his name. Although Jason had to admit when it came to hospitals he hardly had an unbiased view point.
Whenever he walked down the meticulously white walled halls of Walter Reed Army Medical Center all he could see was the place he had spent a week of his life in the kind of brutal agony that no non-lethal amount of Med-X could put a dent in, where he had undergone multiple reconstructive surgeries, and where he had learned how to walk for the second time in his life.
It was these fond memories that were occupying Jason's thoughts as he waited in the lobby for the doctor who would decide whether he was fit for active duty or a size large straight jacket.
He yawned and cocked his head, taking in his surroundings. As lobbies went this one was no more exciting than any other, a couple of uncomfortable chairs strung together, a desk currently occupied by a not unattractive young receptionist, a coffee table piled high with decade old magazines, and a crappy television in the corner running a news story on the latest insurgent attack in East L.A.. That last feature was mildly surprising; hospitals you see don't generally allow news broadcasts in their waiting rooms, according to an article in the DC Journal of Medicine, Jason had read in a fit of boredom, it tends to depress the hell out of patients.
"Fucking Commies," growled the man sitting next to Jason.
Jason cocked his head to get a look at him and read the markings on the man's dress uniform; he was a Sergeant with the 101st Airborne.
"Not a set of working testicles between all three god damn billion of them; fucking cowards."
Jason sighed, "Fight any war long enough, eventually conscience and morality are just a few more names on the casualty list, at this point...we're all just in it to win it,"
The sergeant turned and stared at Jason, "So some asshole wires a car to blow up outside a government building just as people are getting off work, kills around three dozen civilians, and obliterates most of a city block, but hey that's okay because we're all in it to win it? Since when do we stop holding people to the simple fucking standard of human decency just because a war is going on?"
Jason shrugged, "History decides who the heroes and assholes are in every conflict, and eventually it'll get around to judging this one too, so I think I'll just kick back let it try and figure this fucking mess out, because I sure as hell don't know which way is North here. My only hope is that when all is said and done our side well have more heroes than assholes, though honestly at this point that's probably a pretty vain fucking hope."
The sergeant gave Jason a long look, "You're a bit of an odd duck aren't you?"
Jason smirked, "Been called much worse,"
The Sergeant held out his hand, "Benjamin Montgomery; but most people call me Benji."
Jason took the hand, "Jason Wolfe, but most people call me bastard, fucker, or dick. Feel free to take your pick."
Benji's face took on a serious expression, "You're not the same Jason Wolfe who fought at the Hindu Kush are you?"
"I have a common name," replied Jason dryly
Jason really wished the legend of that fucking disaster and his role in it would die a long painful death.
"Captain Wolfe?" called the receptionist in a sweet voice
Jason cocked his head to the girl.
"Doctor Wood will see you now," she said.
"Here we go," muttered Jason rising to his feet
Benji grabbed Jason's sleeve to stop him, "Hey man I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes, I doubt I'd want to talk about it either if I was there; but it should be known that Jason Wolfe wherever whoever he may be is a god damn hero."
Jason raised an eyebrow, "You think so?"
Jason grinned, "You might feel differently when history gets a hold of him,"
Benji let go of his sleeve, "We all have things we regret brother, want a little bit of philosophical advice I picked up along the way. Guilt is the mind's way of telling you that you still have a conscience, like you said, not a lot of people do these days, I'd consider it a gift."
Jason laughed, "You ever think about writing for Hallmark?"
"Many times," said Benji with mock seriousness.
Jason shook his head in amusement, "Be seeing you around Sergeant,"
"Stay sharp brother," replied Benji with a grin
:RGFyZSB0byBiZSBBd2Vzb21l: - This my new page break, its a code, and the first one to break it gets to have a character named after them.
"Well captain I'm going to put it to you blunt; you are a walking talking miracle of divine intervention. There is no way in hell you should have survived those kind of injuries let alone be walking a mere two months after receiving them, that having been said are you sure you want to return to the front lines?"
"Yeah, I'd have to say I'm pretty damn sure Doc; not that I haven't enjoyed sitting around twiddling my thumbs while the army got its ass handed to it in Malaysia. Could be you haven't noticed being such a busy man and all, but this country is fighting for its very survival here, so unless you have an overwhelming desire to discover what life is like under a communist regime I strongly suggest you sign my papers and let me go do my thing."
The doc smiled politely, "You're eager, I'll give you that. Still given how bad things are, and how bad they're going to get, I have to wonder...why you are so determined to throw yourself back into the middle of it."
Jason raised an eyebrow, "Well I just assumed it was my winning patriotic attitude, but I'm guessing you have your own ideas on the subject,"
The doctor ignored him, "Post traumatic stress is a nasty son of a bitch, it can take good men and turn them into hollowed out husks, it can also give a soldier a full on psychotic urge to die in battle; some may view it as the only way to obtain balance, to avenge fallen comrades, to avenge themselves for the horrors brought on them by war."
Jason smirked, "All due respect Doc, you've seen less combat than a housewife during a sale at the Super Duper Mart, and in any case there's a bit of a difference between my fun loving personality and a case of the Looney Tunes,"
"All due respect Captain, but I've reviewed your service record, you've seen more death and violence than any soldier I've ever met, and I've been doing this for more than a few years now. What you experienced ten years ago at the Hindu Kush would break most men I know, but you just keep coming back for more. Over the past seven years you've managed to get yourself involved in all of the war's bloodiest engagements to date, and that last mission you went on, the one that landed you hear in my office was pure fucking suicide and you damn well know it."
"Do I now?" replied Jason dryly
The doctor glared at him, "You are a man with a death wish Captain; you don't belong anywhere near the war, let alone in command of soldiers, soldiers who are depending on you to get them home alive."
Jason sighed; this conversation was going nowhere fast.
"Yeah I get it, I'm more suicidal than a kamikaze pilot flying drunk, blah blah fucking blah, listen up dickhead, you aren't even a real doctor, you don't treat injuries, you don't prescribe medication, you don't even have a psychiatry specialization, so you diagnosing me as crazy is like me diagnosing you with leprosy...neither one of us knows what the fuck we're talking about...you're a god damn paper pusher, a bureaucrat, your job, your only fucking job is to certify me fit for duty and say "go get em soldier!" so how about we drop the fucking act, you sign my papers, and we both get on with the rest of our day, you pretending to help people, me packing a bag for Japan, or Borneo, or where ever the hell it is we're fighting now, because honestly? I can't even keep track anymore."
The Doctor waited patiently for Jason to finish his tirade, "You done?"
Jason shrugged, "I sure the hell hope so,"
"Good because real doctor or not. This is the part where I give you a mandatory six month leave of absence and the number of a good psychologist, who you will see or so help me god I will seal you in a padded room not only for your own good but the good of the general population."
Jason laughed, "We're in middle of a god damn world war! You seriously think the Army is going to let you bench a Delta Operator? That is some awe inspiring wishful thinking you got there."
The Doctor smiled, "The wonders of bureaucracy, the army can put in a request to override my medical recommendation, but that will take three months to process, then they will have to produce at least three other doctors to certify you mentally stable, and get a military judge to sign off on an override; that should only take...nine months..."
The Doctor took note of the expression of anger on Jason's face, "Oh and Captain if you decide to go ape shit right now, and beat the living crap out of me, I guarantee you the war will be over before you see active duty again."
Jason stood up, "You know Doc you say you've read my service record, but clearly you weren't paying close enough attention. Whenever an obstacle to one of my missions rears its ugly ass head it gets fucking obliterated; loudly, efficiently, and with a tremendous amount of violence. It's what I do, and I do it extremely well."
Jason stared the man down, "You really want to make me your enemy? Find out the sheer level of ungodly hell I can rain down on your life?"
The doctor folded his arms, "It's done Captain. I presented my recommendation to the board this morning. This meeting is merely a courtesy, coming after me isn't going change anything, and just so you know, you're not the only one here who can make threats."
Jason flashed the man a truly disturbing smile, "Maybe so Doc, but my threats can shoot your ass straight to the top of a couple of really fun Pentagon watch lists, want to see what kind of wrench the boys in black like to throw into the life of a suspected communist sympathizer?"
The doctor's face turned an interesting shade of white, "And maybe you're right," continued Jason, "maybe there isn't anything I can do to override your recommendation, but the thing is Doc, when it comes down to it…I'm a very petty person,"
Jason continued to stare down the doctor as the color rapidly drained from his face, "Well, I won't take up anymore of your time, enjoy the rest of your day," said Jason with a smile.
Jason fought hard to disconnect himself from the seething cauldron of rage that was boiling just beneath the surface; he didn't much like feeling the need to put his fist through every object that crossed his path, but it seemed like that was pretty much his default setting nowadays. He was sorely tempted to make good on his threat to the doctor, and he could do it too, there were a lot of people in the intelligence community that owed him their life, all it would take was one phone call to the right person and the doctor's life would instantly become a living hell, but luckily for him Jason resisted the temptation, although just barely.
He supposed that from an outsiders perspective his service record might read like a man hell bent on dying in a blaze of glory, but that record didn't give the whole picture, in his experience no piece of paper ever did. Jason did not have a death wish; he had seen too many friends die young to ever want that for himself; it would be a complete disgrace to their memories, pure and simple.
The reason Jason kept taking on Constantine Chase's suicide missions was because they offered him the greatest opportunity to make a difference in the war; a war he wanted so fucking badly to just be over with, but it seemed that every time an opportunity presented itself to make peace the politicians lit it on fire and took a piss on it for good measure.
It was at the point now that peace was an impossibility; too much blood had been spilled, and too many people were invested in the outcome. It didn't really seem to matter all that much to people that civilization was on a collision course, or that in the process of fighting the enemy America had become the biggest bully on the playground. People just wanted blood for blood and they were sure as hell getting it.
Jason exited the hospital and scanned the parking lot.
"Typical," he muttered
He brought his wrist up to eye level and tapped a few keys on his Pip Boy to check his messages, in the unlikely event she had actually left one.
"Hey Bro! Listen, so I know I was supposed to pick you up after your appointment, but Cherry just called and you'll never guess what! She was the 100th caller for Galaxy News Radio's ticket caller contest! She won two tickets to Geronimo Jackson! And they're playing Boston tonight! *squealing sounds* Anywho, we got to leave now to get there in time so I won't be able to pick you up…sorry, but I hope you still love me anyway and I'll get you a t-shirt! Kay? Bye!"
Jason toyed briefly with the thought of telling her she was adopted from a circus family but since that might actually be a possibility it would probably be best not to mention it. He tapped a few more keys on his Pip Boy and called for a cab then sat down on a bench.
Jason closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun beat down on him, it was a beautiful day and the birds were singing so the fact that his sister was the world's biggest flake wasn't bothering him as much as it could have been. However the sound of an armored APC pulling up did serve to piss him off a little, seeing as there was only one asshole Jason could think of who would drive an APC onto a hospital parking lot.
"I'm going to make this real easy for you. Whatever you're selling I'm not buying. So how about you take that monument to overcompensation and drive yourself off a fucking cliff," said Jason not opening his eyes.
"Come now Captain, do you really want to piss away ten years of friendship over one regrettable incident that was neither of our fault?" asked a deep voice from within the APC.
Jason gave a dark smirk "Oh it was our fault, don't delude yourself otherwise; and we're not friends, buddies, and or chums, so once again, if you don't mind, kindly fuck off and die," he said opening his eyes, only to find General Constantine Chase staring at him from the back seat of a light APC.
Chase shrugged, "Guess that answers that question. Come on, how about I save you some cab money; hop in, I'll give you a lift,"
Jason briefly considered telling the General to shove it up his ass, but a free ride was a free ride, even if it was coming from a low quality asshole with stars on its shoulders. Jason opened the APC's side door and hopped inside.
He was smart enough to know that he was going to hear what Chase had to say one or the other, so he might as well rip off the band-aid now, "Okay let's hear it," he said tiredly
Chase smirked, "I have a mission for you, but this one is different than the others...well a hell of a lot more strange anyway."
"What part of we're fucking done didn't you understand? Sure I was coughing up blood at the time, but I'm pretty sure I was speaking English."
Chase frowned, "The Intel was bad, and I take responsibility for that; but we're at war and bad shit happens, I thought you would have realized that by now son."
Jason had a sudden surge in blood pressure.
"Oh I'm aware bad shit happens in war, but there is bad shit, and then there is your shit, and your shit is an entirely different category of fucked up."
"Careful Captain," warned Chase.
Jason snorted, "Or what? What are you going to do to the guy who literally knows where all the bodies are buried?"
Chase sighed in exasperation, "Jason I didn't come here to justify myself to you -"
"Oh no?" said Jason cutting him off, "Well that's good, because there is no fucking justification here Chase, no absolution, not for you and sure as hell not for me...how many people do you think I killed when I blew that fucking dam? At least thirty thousand...I wonder…how many of those do you think were children?" asked Jason
Chase shook his head and gave a kind of pained laughter, "What do you want me to tell you Jason? It is what it is."
"Go to hell Chase," replied Jason softly.
"Sooner than you think," replied the General with a sigh.
"Three years," he said matter-of-factly.
Jason turned and glared at him, "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"That's a number the government's leading political analysts got together and came up with; the approximate number of years left before Nuclear War between the United States and China."
Jason was quiet for a long time, "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered at last, running a hand through his hair.
"Whatever our differences Jason, you and I both know that that is an unacceptable outcome, not because it would mean the end of civilization, but because it would mean we have failed them; all the millions of Americans who have given their lives for their country and their comrades. If we allow this to happen then we might as well be pissing on their graves," said Chase, stating exactly what Jason was feeling.
"What exactly is it you need Chase?" demanded Jason
"What I need is for us to win this fucking war! But we can't do that as we are, we need to be better; we need to be faster, stronger, smarter...tell me son...are you familiar with the Forced Evolutionary Virus?"
"I vaguely remember hearing something about it a few years back...wasn't it some sort of science project to make soldiers immune to biological warfare?"
Chase nodded, "Yes, but it turned out to be so much more than we intended,"
Jason was walking through the Smithsonian, not really paying attention to the exhibits of world history, but instead going over the conversation he had with Chase two hours earlier. In a nut shell, Chase wanted to pump Jason full of nasty green goo with the hope of giving him super powers; that was probably oversimplifying it a little but Jason didn't care; it was the most bat crap insane plan he had ever heard. But as Chase had pointed out they were in the final quarter of the big game and down by 14; it was time to call a Hail Mary. If it worked Jason would be the first of many super soldiers that would rip China three new assholes and bring the war to a safe non-radioactive conclusion. And if it didn't work Jason would become a mutated pile of ugly incapable of spelling his own name.
Jason paused at an exhibit of King Tut that was technically on loan from the Cairo Museum and was supposed to have been returned a few years ago, but since Egypt had pulled out of NATO the United States decided they would hold on to the king for a little while longer. Egypt responded by holding Elvis's leather jacket and guitar hostage when the traveling Rock n' Roll museum came through Alexandria; a king for a king as it were. Unfortunately for Egypt nobody fucks with Elvis; the United States responded by invading and occupying the Port of Alexandria, officially because they needed a strategic asset in the Mediterranean, unofficially because "hands off the jacket asshole!" Basically society had been turned upside down and on its ass by this god damn war, and Jason knew that if there was any chance at all of ending it he had to take it.
"I just know I'm going to regret this," sighed Jason.
He exited the museum and walked along the National Mall for a while, watching the groups of school children running excitedly around the Army recruiters dressed in T-51b Power Armor.
"Sign me up!" Shouted a little girl in pig tails proudly.
"I'm going to kill me some fucking commies!"
"Anna Marie Smith! Watch your language!" shouted a strict looking woman who had appeared out of nowhere.
"Sorry Miss Shapiro," said the little girl, her eyes downcast, but her face still grinning.
The soldiers in power armor chuckled amongst themselves; Jason had to grin a little too.
"I tell you what kiddo," said one of the recruiters, "We'll sign you up as a reservist, you're job is going to be studying hard in school and rooting for the winning team; what do you say? Uncle Sam needs you."
"Yes Sir!" shouted the girl jumping up and down excitedly.
"Then carry on soldier!" said the recruiter breaking into a salute
The teacher took hold of the little girl's hand and led her away, looking back once to smile at the recruiters in what could easily be misconstrued as a provocative manner.
Jason shook his head smiling. It seemed that all the ladies were digging the uniform nowadays, especially the ones made of titanium and magnesium alloy.
Jason kept walking until he arrived at the Memorial for the 506 Battalion of 62nd Terrain Infantry Division; where all but 10 of the names of the people who served in that unit during the Battle of the Hindu Kush were transcribed on a polished slab of black onyx. Jason hated visiting this giant fucking reminder of the people he had so completely failed to defend, but today he was compelled to see the names of his brothers and sisters again, to force himself to remember their sacrifice and why he would never take it for granted.
"I won't let them destroy everything you died to save; this war will end with me, I promise you that."
Jason ran his hand down the list of names, trying to remember all the faces, but try as he might he couldn't, there were just too damn many.
He sighed and sat down, leaning his back against the monument and stared out at the setting sun. The memorial had been strategically placed to catch the best view of the sunset every single day, there was some piece of symbolism involved in that decision but Jason couldn't really remember what it was and he didn't much care to think about it, but still…
"I think you guys would like the view today," he said quietly
"General, are you positive that Captain Wolfe is the best candidate for this procedure; his psychological state can be described as shaky to borderline schizophrenic at best," said an aging man with a German accent.
"Relax Dr. Braun, a man would have to be just a little crazy to even consider undergoing this procedure," replied Chase coolly
Braun shrugged; he'd tried. It wasn't so much that he feared Jason would be a failure; on the contrary he was almost positive the experiment would be a success. What he feared was that it would be too much of a success. Humanity didn't need a savior, it needed to be wiped clean, but things would unfold as they would; the human race hardly needed Braun's help to destroy itself.
Braun looked through the observation window where Captain Wolfe was being placed in a cryogenic pod and hooked to multiple intravenous lines.
"Remind me again, why it's necessary for you to freeze dry me as part of this procedure?" asked Jason, wincing as a medical tech placed a line in his foot.
Braun spoke into the PA system, "The FEV burns through the body too fast at room temperature, but if you don't mind having green skin and an inferior mind, then there is still time to change the conditions of the experiment," said Braun dryly.
"You know, Time Magazine was right about you Doc," said Jason
"What? That I'm the smartest man on the planet? Well you'll have to pardon the pun Captain but it doesn't take a genius to figure that out," said Braun impatiently.
"No, I was talking about when they said you were an arrogant self-obsessed jackass with no social skills to speak of," replied Jason.
"Yes, it was a very informative article; we can go over it in greater detail when you wake up if you like but for now its sleepy time," said Braun pressing the button that would close the pod and inject sleeping gas and freezing chemicals into the sealed atmosphere.
"Hey wai-!" Jason was cut off as the pod sealed shut
Braun turned to monitor the results of the FEV injection; he should have some idea of the success of the procedure within the next few seconds.
"Ahhhhh, it is too early to say for sure but these preliminary results look promising, very promising indeed; if I had to put money on it I'd say Project Ice Man is going to be a success,"
General Chase watched Jason's Cryo Pod as the windows iced over with a detached expression.
"How long until the FEV has bonded with his cells?"
Braun thought for a few seconds, "A few hours at most, I suppose I should give credit where credit is due, you were right General; Captain Wolfe was indeed the perfect candidate for this procedure, his genetic profile is maybe…one in a billion."
A smile spread across Chase's face, "Good, have him transported to one of the bunkers under DC; we're going to need him when it comes time to rebuild after the dust settles."
Braun was thoughtful for a short while, "You do realize of course, that when he wakes up to find his world destroyed, his friends and family dead, and that you lied to him...he's going to kill you."
Chase waved him off, "I'm Constantine Chase; I've convinced soldiers to charge the enemy lines outnumbered and outgunned and tear the fucking Reds to shreds. It won't be hard to convince this one I was acting in the country's best interest; and since I actually am the truth will be on my side."
Braun sighed, and people say I have an ego.
The light that had been blinking blue for over 200 years on Jason Wolfe's Cryo Pod decided the time was right to suddenly switch to a flashing red.
WARNING! LIFE SUPPORT FAILURE IMMANENT! INITIATING EMERGENCY REVIVAL!
The lid of the pod cracked open allowing 200 year old cryogenic chemicals to hiss out in a white vapor.
Jason tried to open his eyes, but found he couldn't remember how to do it and upon coming to that realization found that he couldn't remember anything else either.
Who am I?
The question went unanswered for a long time, but eventually a voice in the back of his mind spoke up.
Jason Wolfe; Captain; United States Army; 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta.
Jason had a name now. With that memories started flooding back to him. Explosions, bombs falling, people dying, his sister stealing his pet rabbit, Mom's Sunday night meatloaf surprise, Jason getting his stomach pumped. It was all coming back to him, memories good and bad, mostly bad; Jason searched for one that would tell him why he was here.
I'm here to complete a mission.
Jason remembered General Chase's assignment; he was supposed be the first in a new generation of super soldiers.
Jason suddenly remembered how to operate his eye lids.
He opened his eyes and looked around the room he found himself in; it was dark, lit only by red emergency lighting that had come to life around the same time Jason did.
Something isn't right, Jason was pretty fucking sure on that point.
He tried to get out of his pod and wound up sprawled on the floor.
"Okay, time to learn how to walk again…faaaantasic," grunted Jason
As soon as he spoke the words his legs got their muscle memory back and he got to his feet.
That was fast
That's when Jason remembered the green goo that he had been injected with; he was running a little hotter than the average human now. He stretched his muscles testing them for changes. His body hadn't increased or decreased in size but he felt…strong, the kind of strong that could eat a tank for lunch and shit out nuts and bolts around dinner time. He also seemed to be thinking faster, he didn't think he was actually any smarter, it just seemed to be taking him less time to get from a to b.
Jason shook his head now was not the time to be field testing himself, he needed to find out what the fuck was going on.
He checked his surroundings; he was in some sort of storage facility, there were crates all around as well as mothballed military sentry bots.
"Hello! I'm awake! You can come tell me what the fuck is going on now!"
Jason heard the whirl of wheels and looked to see a RoboBrain fast approaching him; it was a little rusty and dinged up but the twin lasers attached to its chest were glowing with deadly intent all the same.
"I am Caretaker of Government Storage Facility 132; this area is restricted, state your name and purpose here."
"Captain Jason Wolfe, United States Army Special Forces; I'm on an assignment from General Constantine Chase, my purpose here is classified; stand down immediately."
RoboBrains were designed to respond to figures of authority, so Jason put on his officer's voice.
"Yes sir! My apologies Captain Wolfe; may I be of assistance to you?"
"Yes, I seem to find myself lost; could you direct me to the nearest exit?"
"Nearest exit, is a vertical shaft that will take you to the surface 200 feet above your head,"
"Lead the way."
Climbing was ridiculously easy for Jason now; he practically flew up the ladder. He was in fact climbing so fast, and was so engrossed in his new strength that he failed to notice the steel cover at the end of the shaft, and was therefore surprised when he rammed his head into it.
"Okay, lesson learned," he said to nobody in particular rubbing his head.
Jason pushed on the steel cover, with one arm, grunting with exertion as he did so, finally after several minutes of effort, it popped open and flew a few feet in the air before coming to a stop someplace out of sight. Daylight flooded the shaft and Jason examined the edges where the cover had been and found out why it was so hard to push off; the fucking thing had been welded on.
Jason couldn't stop the smirk that came to his face and made the rest of the way to the surface where the smile completely vanished from his features.
Jason looked around his surroundings; it was downtown DC, he could still recognize that much. Only it was a little different from the last time he was here eating lunch with his sister; back then there were more buildings standing, the roads were still visible and not buried under layers of debris, and there was no light dust storm blowing through what was left of the streets, illustrating just how completely lifeless the entire place was.
Jason didn't remember falling to his knees, he wasn't even fully aware of the tears dripping down his cheeks. What he was aware of, what he did know beyond a shadow of a doubt, was that he had failed. All those hundreds of thousands of soldiers who had given their lives to make sure that the world kept on spinning had officially, tragically, hilariously died for nothing.
"I guess the war is over now," said Jason in a voice barely above a whisper, how often did I pray for the war to be over? Well, no one can say God doesn't have a sense of humor.
Jason dug his hands into the dirt and bared his teeth; they're going to pay for this, every last fucking one of them, I'm going to find them, everyone and anyone who was involved, and I'm going to send them to hell. And I know exactly where I'm going to start…
"Chase," stated Jason in a cold, deadly voice that was barely more than a hiss.
"I'm coming for you son of a bitch, do you hear me!"
"I'M COMING FOR YOU!"
Okay so that's chapter numero uno; let me know what you think.