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Lespoir: Supply TruckScrounger's Ink: Supply Truck
April 20, 2099
A battered truck pulled wearily into the ruins of Old City. The trek from Lespoir had been rough driving, mostly off road. No road or highway connected the cities; there was nothing but faint animal trails, a dry river bed, and miles of rock and uneven, broken earth. Few travelers made the trip, and only those who had need.
The truck stopped by a dammaged B-545 jumbo jet. Deshawn "EarthHawk" Hajari stepped out of the drivers seat. He stretched long, tired arms and legs, then walked to the entrance hatch carved into one side of the fuselage.
"Ngozi? You in there?"
With a sigh, Deshawn opened the hatch and took a quick look around. The inside was clean enough, only slightly cluttered. Papers and random objects lay around in loose piles on the desk, shelves and floor. A gray chinchilla sat near a window, pouncing at dust motes. There was no sign of his friend.
Stepping back outside, DeShawn cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted
Lespoir: War Memorandum #1M E M O R A N D U M
To: President Cohen
From: General J. Flint
Subject: Port Lune Defenses
It is with regret that I relay this information to you. After nearly twelve days of fighting, the Port Lune facilities have been completely occupied by Capturan troops. My command staff personally led the rearguard as our Security Forces made their retreat. So far, the Capturan forces have not made a drive further inland. Our reconnoissance shows they are using the port to gather additional troops and supplies.
Sir, we must significantly increase our military forces. At present, we have sufficient personnel to guard our most critical government and military locations, yet the remainder of the city will fall. The next strike could overthrow Lespoir in a single battle. Urgent attention is required to determine options for the prevention or weakening of such an attack.
[signed] General Joclyn Flint
Lespoir Government Security Forces
Hope City Diaries: New KidHope City Diaries: New Kid
Ayanna Camara sat under a tree in the school recreation lot. A trio of girls approached, and she closed the journal she had been writing in.
"Hi, Brett. Hi Zoe; Kim."
Brettalyn -Brett- nodded briefly, haughtily. "Ayanna. Still under your tree?"
"Of course. You know I like the quiet when I write."
"You never write. Not 'till the war started, anyways. Any news?"
Ayanna sighed. "You know I haven't heard anything. Principal Cohen called their office again last night. Dad was in his lab on the 17th, and mom went with him, as usual. Their research compound was overrun during the opening attacks, but no one knows if they escaped or not."
Brett gave the ground a look of disgust, then gingerly sat down. As if on cue, the others did the same. The four girls sat quietly for a few minutes, letting the sounds of children at play break the silence. A group of children -mostly boys- had separated themselves from the typical recess games and sports. These had formed teams an
Hope City Diaries: HomesickHope City Diaries: Homesick
Hello from Hope City Elementary School. I never journal, but I need to talk to someone before I explode!
Most of my friends are here, of course. The whole school is stuck living at school because of the war that started five days ago. Kids from all over the city have been brought here to keep them safe from the fighting. No one thinks about what will happen to us if the school is attacked, or what we think about having so many strangers living in here now. This is a school, not a hotel! Already, there are several groups being made - athletes, cheerleaders, math kids, the 'in' crowd. We had those groups before, but there is a new split now, one that seems more important to everyone than other groups. Those kids who know their parents are still alive, and those who have learned that their parents did not survive the attacks.
I don't belong to either group.
I am the only student without a cell phone - my parents say I'm still too young- so I am also
Lespoir: Defending Port LuneEarthHawk Journals: Defending Port Lune
April 17, 2099
Today started as a typical day. Woke up at 0600. Showered. Ate breakfast. Watched the morning news. No signs that today would be different from any other.
Met my homeboys at work around 0800 hours. My current occupation is what you might call a Mover. People ask me to move something, and I move it. Letters, packages, vehicles, information. I used to be a Flyer for Lespoir's Government Security Force, but I liked to explore more than my orders allowed. Someone reported me as reckless, and I was grounded. Since then, GovSec and I have reached a mutual understanding. I stay out of their business, and they stay out of mine.
Spent the day moving freight. Nothing unusual until my last job, sometime around 1300 hours. Received a call from the Geoffrey Q. Sykes Shipping Co. to move some excess inventory from a downtown location to their warehouses in Port Lune. A couple dozen wooden crates. Fragile. Use caution when transporting. The job s
Lespoir: Invasion of LespoirScrounger's Ink: Invasion of Lespoir
"Port Lune is still under siege following an unexpected bombardment at 6:25 this evening. The attacks, first believed an elaborate assault by rebel forces in the city, now appear to have originated from the previously unknown nation of Captura. Demands by that nation's Dictator for Lespoir's total surrender have been refused, followed by formal declarations of war by both countries. The government has not yet implemented a draft for more soldiers; however, President Cohen has called for volunteers to expand current Government Security forces in response to this emergency. Citizens are encouraged to stay calm and remain indoors until further notice is given. The number of Lespoiran casualties is still unknown..."
Ngozi Camara growled as the news report crackled through the static of his small radio. Absently crumpling the paper in his hands, he threw it across the room toward the grey chinchilla snuffling around the tall shelving. The chinc
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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