New Caption Work - "The Only Letter Home"
Jan. 9th, 2009 01:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
major_kerinaSome, who read some of my older captions, may remember a caption I did a while ago about a GI's letter home to the woman he loves. This caption work is intended to be in the same story universe. I hope you enjoy. ^^ *bows*
To Zoe,
Hey sis. I know I haven’t written since I left. Mom must be having a fit over everything. Sorry there.
First, they hit us with orders not to write until further notice. Second, is more complicated. I know this letter didn’t reach you (if it did at all) by military post. If you received this letter then you also received a smaller, sealed envelope inside which says, “Do Not Open Until You Read the Letter”. Inside that envelope is a picture. I hope that this letter will help explain the picture I’ve enclosed in there.
Shortly after basic training, the higher-ups grabbed a few of us with the highest gun accuracy. They sat us all down and said we were going to be part of a special program.
They said all kinds of crazy stuff. I didn’t get most of it and I figured they were lying about a lot of it too.
I noticed half the soldiers in the room were female recruits. Me and the other guys were given a free pass to opt out. I found it strange that none of the women were given the same option.
At that point, they were vague on consequences, except to say “risky”. It didn’t even matter to me. I had to man up in front of the women. You know me, sis.
They sent us to a secret base at an undisclosed location. Even then, I wasn’t sweating. They had us train with just one type of weapon. They were pretty big. They were not quite cannons, but they were heavy bitches (sorry, mom) and over about five feet long.
The weird thing was we weren’t being trained to use them like snipers rifles. Also, all of them were phony. Even the “official” ones they gave us were fakes. I could tell something was up. But I was a new soldier and I figured they had a good reason. So I kept my mouth shut.
Once they were satisfied that even the ladies could handle the weaponry, they shipped us off. We were put into two groups. The women were to lead and we guys were auxiliary. I was all for equality but it just added to the whole set of weirdness. I’m sure you’d get a kick out of how us guys responded, mom.
They finally gave us our real guns. They were green, like I expected. Otherwise, there wasn’t anything mind-blowing about them. The techs said nothing about ammo loading, just a “payload” and a “charger”. It had cloaked solar tech to charge. The payload was supposed to renewable. That sounded good to me. It meant I never had to lug around the ammo.
I didn’t think much of it when the only techs who would handle the guns were girls too. They were cute though.
Our first real mission came without check firing or testing the weapons. We were to take a terrorist encampment in a wooded area. I was kinda upset when they said the weapons were non-lethal. I cursed the bullshit all around (sorry again, mom). A lot of other guys did too. They wanted lethal backup. The big guys said that we weren’t supposed to leave bodies. But, after we complained, they finally let one of us test-fire the guns as a reassurance.
They brought in an enemy combatant who hadn’t been cooperating. Here’s the part where you’d probably see nothing but black lines on my letter if came through regular channels. They picked me to fire. I did.
It’s tough for me to write what happened next. I had to sit at the paper and stare at it before I could get up the nerve to write it. I can talk about how the shot didn’t have any recoil. I can talk about the guys cheering around me. I can write about taking my sight as the guy squirmed in his binds.
But, I have to write it. When I pulled the trigger, an arc of purple light came out and swirled through him. I thought it was some sort of electro-shock thing. His back arched. Before I figured out everything I was seeing, he was slumped over, someone else. He was a woman. He was a WOMAN.
There was hair swept over her face. She had really noticeable tits (sorry again, mom) and legs showing through the same clothes. I remember that someone behind me threw up. There wasn’t any cheering. We all knew what these weapons were.
Sis, I’m sure you remember that, years ago, there was a so-called Genomic War. A lot of our guys came back as girls due to some new weapon the other side used. The technology was confiscated and banned all over the word. And here I was, holding some kind of new-generation version of it. I felt like throwing up too.
But we were soldiers and we had our orders. When I noticed that I didn’t need to shave that night, I didn’t even think about.
They tossed us right into it without more than that. The big wigs didn’t explain and sounded like they didn’t have to. I got the feeling they felt they should be thanked for saying lives. (Zoe, skip this next part for mom) And they figured that the enemy was a bunch of pussies anyway.
We hit a couple of encampments. Everyone we hit was out cold for as long as we saw them. I didn’t see much action for the first few because the ladies were usually in first. But soon, they started to rotate us. I don’t why. I figured then because they thought they knew best in everything else.
Nothing much happened to the guys for a while. I didn’t even notice whether anyone had more or less whiskers. The first big sign was when someone noticed swelling and irritation in his chest. No one talked about their junk getting smaller, but going needed more privacy.
We had temp camps and small vehicles. We kept moving. When our uniforms felt too big, we made new belts and changed things around with knives and ingenuity. Borrowing from the ladies was the last resort.
The big moment came when one of us, a young looking guy who was always going in first, dipped back his jacket and showed long, blond hair. It hit us all. We noticed all the changes then. We noticed we were turning into women.
At this point, I’d gotten a little shorter. Not too much, but closer to your height, Zoe. I had very little body hair. My hands looked narrower (this actually helped me some). My voice was like that gay guy on that game show. And I had a lot more hair on my head.
And then my eyes, they’d taken on the color of dried blood. It looked kinda badass, but the rest of me didn’t.
We refused missions until we had an answer. It took a couple turns of bullshit (sorry) before they finally fessed-up that it was illegal tech in our guns. They said we would get well paid for our service, no matter how it turned out for us.
Nobody held a gun to our heads and made us do the missions. The female soldiers had some injuries and exhaustion, so at least a few of us had to go. Nobody laughed or anything when one of guys sobbed in the bathroom. I had a feeling what happened to him. We didn’t even try standing up to pee anymore.
We’d just sit and stare a lot or immerse ourselves in something.
By our fifth week of missions, command stopped separating us by gender. There wasn’t any point left. We still kinda self-segregated. We may have been female but we weren’t gonna swallow girl stuff just like that. To their credit, none of the ladies pushed anything on us.
We eventually figured out a clothes situation. A few of us tested things out. We found time to occupy ourselves between missions. We’d always watch the big wigs walk by. They looked so (skip, sis) fucking calm. And the missions kept coming.
Eventually and cautiously, chest size came into discussion kinda like “who had the biggest balls?” once did. We’d screw around. Stuff would happen between missions, stuff that could fill a book. Some of us felt like we were in some place between crazy and okay. And I knew that some of us were too close to the wrong end.
There was one guy. He never talked since it started. Then, one day, he just unloaded his rifle on every non-mission guy he could catch. I don’t remember if I fired too but his wasn’t the only rifle discharged.
There was nothing but girls. Everyone. The big wigs were on the forest floor and their hair sure looked like big wigs. Nobody knew what to do then. The one guy said he’d heard them talking about how we were an experiment, they wanted to see how far we’d go.
Everything felt like a painting, like someone’s messed up dream. We knew that this was the kind of stuff that people disappeared for. That guy figured we were gonna disappear anyway. I still don’t know if he was crazy or right.
I felt bad for the female soldiers. But we worked something out. We put them out and they told a story to buy us some time. We took some trucks and made it look like some crazy stuff happened. And we jetted, all of us guys-no-more.
We made for friendly territory to the west. But the military moved to fast. They made up some sort of female terrorist cell story. I don’t know what they told you but this is the truth.
Things got crazy for a while. We were in the jungle. I can’t say where. Eventually, we just decided to go out separate ways. There were no goodbyes.
I kept to the thickest part of the forest. I worked my way west to the border. I didn’t have to use my weapon. I considered leaving it a couple of times, but I felt a connection to it like an addict. I had to finger the trigger are few times each day.
By keeping to the forest and using my compass, I was able to cross the border within a few days. I had to drink the local water when my supply ran out, which made me ill. I buried the gun after I became too ill to carry it further. I walked until I passed out.
I was lucky that a local villager rescued me and attended to my illness. He had two daughters. They were very nice to me. They were always curious about my eyes and my clothes. They tried to call me “pretty” in English. I tried not wince when they did that.
I let them put some pink beads and bands in my hair. They gave me pigtails like theirs. They painted a little star on my face. They snuck me extra food, despite the fact I had more than enough and they had so little.
I thought of you and mom. I knew I had to leave soon. I knew I had to record what happened to me, so you wouldn’t be afraid of the worst.
The villager was able to borrow a camera. I recovered the gun and found a good tree. I put the camera on a stump, set the timer, and took the photo. Then, I re-buried the gun and marked the tree with a number which is special between only you and me, Zoe. You know the one.
I went back to the village and I wrote this. I’ve made two copies of the photo, one for you and one still in my boot. On the back of the photo are all the names I could remember of everyone involved in this.
And that’s it. On all these pages is the whole story, as best as I can tell it. You probably would’ve found better words, Zoe. You were always better at letters.
I love you, Zoe. I love you with a poke to the ear. Give mom all my love. Never lose hope. I’ll find a way home.
________________________________________________________________________________
To Zoe,
Hey sis. I know I haven’t written since I left. Mom must be having a fit over everything. Sorry there.
First, they hit us with orders not to write until further notice. Second, is more complicated. I know this letter didn’t reach you (if it did at all) by military post. If you received this letter then you also received a smaller, sealed envelope inside which says, “Do Not Open Until You Read the Letter”. Inside that envelope is a picture. I hope that this letter will help explain the picture I’ve enclosed in there.
Shortly after basic training, the higher-ups grabbed a few of us with the highest gun accuracy. They sat us all down and said we were going to be part of a special program.
They said all kinds of crazy stuff. I didn’t get most of it and I figured they were lying about a lot of it too.
I noticed half the soldiers in the room were female recruits. Me and the other guys were given a free pass to opt out. I found it strange that none of the women were given the same option.
At that point, they were vague on consequences, except to say “risky”. It didn’t even matter to me. I had to man up in front of the women. You know me, sis.
They sent us to a secret base at an undisclosed location. Even then, I wasn’t sweating. They had us train with just one type of weapon. They were pretty big. They were not quite cannons, but they were heavy bitches (sorry, mom) and over about five feet long.
The weird thing was we weren’t being trained to use them like snipers rifles. Also, all of them were phony. Even the “official” ones they gave us were fakes. I could tell something was up. But I was a new soldier and I figured they had a good reason. So I kept my mouth shut.
Once they were satisfied that even the ladies could handle the weaponry, they shipped us off. We were put into two groups. The women were to lead and we guys were auxiliary. I was all for equality but it just added to the whole set of weirdness. I’m sure you’d get a kick out of how us guys responded, mom.
They finally gave us our real guns. They were green, like I expected. Otherwise, there wasn’t anything mind-blowing about them. The techs said nothing about ammo loading, just a “payload” and a “charger”. It had cloaked solar tech to charge. The payload was supposed to renewable. That sounded good to me. It meant I never had to lug around the ammo.
I didn’t think much of it when the only techs who would handle the guns were girls too. They were cute though.
Our first real mission came without check firing or testing the weapons. We were to take a terrorist encampment in a wooded area. I was kinda upset when they said the weapons were non-lethal. I cursed the bullshit all around (sorry again, mom). A lot of other guys did too. They wanted lethal backup. The big guys said that we weren’t supposed to leave bodies. But, after we complained, they finally let one of us test-fire the guns as a reassurance.
They brought in an enemy combatant who hadn’t been cooperating. Here’s the part where you’d probably see nothing but black lines on my letter if came through regular channels. They picked me to fire. I did.
It’s tough for me to write what happened next. I had to sit at the paper and stare at it before I could get up the nerve to write it. I can talk about how the shot didn’t have any recoil. I can talk about the guys cheering around me. I can write about taking my sight as the guy squirmed in his binds.
But, I have to write it. When I pulled the trigger, an arc of purple light came out and swirled through him. I thought it was some sort of electro-shock thing. His back arched. Before I figured out everything I was seeing, he was slumped over, someone else. He was a woman. He was a WOMAN.
There was hair swept over her face. She had really noticeable tits (sorry again, mom) and legs showing through the same clothes. I remember that someone behind me threw up. There wasn’t any cheering. We all knew what these weapons were.
Sis, I’m sure you remember that, years ago, there was a so-called Genomic War. A lot of our guys came back as girls due to some new weapon the other side used. The technology was confiscated and banned all over the word. And here I was, holding some kind of new-generation version of it. I felt like throwing up too.
But we were soldiers and we had our orders. When I noticed that I didn’t need to shave that night, I didn’t even think about.
They tossed us right into it without more than that. The big wigs didn’t explain and sounded like they didn’t have to. I got the feeling they felt they should be thanked for saying lives. (Zoe, skip this next part for mom) And they figured that the enemy was a bunch of pussies anyway.
We hit a couple of encampments. Everyone we hit was out cold for as long as we saw them. I didn’t see much action for the first few because the ladies were usually in first. But soon, they started to rotate us. I don’t why. I figured then because they thought they knew best in everything else.
Nothing much happened to the guys for a while. I didn’t even notice whether anyone had more or less whiskers. The first big sign was when someone noticed swelling and irritation in his chest. No one talked about their junk getting smaller, but going needed more privacy.
We had temp camps and small vehicles. We kept moving. When our uniforms felt too big, we made new belts and changed things around with knives and ingenuity. Borrowing from the ladies was the last resort.
The big moment came when one of us, a young looking guy who was always going in first, dipped back his jacket and showed long, blond hair. It hit us all. We noticed all the changes then. We noticed we were turning into women.
At this point, I’d gotten a little shorter. Not too much, but closer to your height, Zoe. I had very little body hair. My hands looked narrower (this actually helped me some). My voice was like that gay guy on that game show. And I had a lot more hair on my head.
And then my eyes, they’d taken on the color of dried blood. It looked kinda badass, but the rest of me didn’t.
We refused missions until we had an answer. It took a couple turns of bullshit (sorry) before they finally fessed-up that it was illegal tech in our guns. They said we would get well paid for our service, no matter how it turned out for us.
Nobody held a gun to our heads and made us do the missions. The female soldiers had some injuries and exhaustion, so at least a few of us had to go. Nobody laughed or anything when one of guys sobbed in the bathroom. I had a feeling what happened to him. We didn’t even try standing up to pee anymore.
We’d just sit and stare a lot or immerse ourselves in something.
By our fifth week of missions, command stopped separating us by gender. There wasn’t any point left. We still kinda self-segregated. We may have been female but we weren’t gonna swallow girl stuff just like that. To their credit, none of the ladies pushed anything on us.
We eventually figured out a clothes situation. A few of us tested things out. We found time to occupy ourselves between missions. We’d always watch the big wigs walk by. They looked so (skip, sis) fucking calm. And the missions kept coming.
Eventually and cautiously, chest size came into discussion kinda like “who had the biggest balls?” once did. We’d screw around. Stuff would happen between missions, stuff that could fill a book. Some of us felt like we were in some place between crazy and okay. And I knew that some of us were too close to the wrong end.
There was one guy. He never talked since it started. Then, one day, he just unloaded his rifle on every non-mission guy he could catch. I don’t remember if I fired too but his wasn’t the only rifle discharged.
There was nothing but girls. Everyone. The big wigs were on the forest floor and their hair sure looked like big wigs. Nobody knew what to do then. The one guy said he’d heard them talking about how we were an experiment, they wanted to see how far we’d go.
Everything felt like a painting, like someone’s messed up dream. We knew that this was the kind of stuff that people disappeared for. That guy figured we were gonna disappear anyway. I still don’t know if he was crazy or right.
I felt bad for the female soldiers. But we worked something out. We put them out and they told a story to buy us some time. We took some trucks and made it look like some crazy stuff happened. And we jetted, all of us guys-no-more.
We made for friendly territory to the west. But the military moved to fast. They made up some sort of female terrorist cell story. I don’t know what they told you but this is the truth.
Things got crazy for a while. We were in the jungle. I can’t say where. Eventually, we just decided to go out separate ways. There were no goodbyes.
I kept to the thickest part of the forest. I worked my way west to the border. I didn’t have to use my weapon. I considered leaving it a couple of times, but I felt a connection to it like an addict. I had to finger the trigger are few times each day.
By keeping to the forest and using my compass, I was able to cross the border within a few days. I had to drink the local water when my supply ran out, which made me ill. I buried the gun after I became too ill to carry it further. I walked until I passed out.
I was lucky that a local villager rescued me and attended to my illness. He had two daughters. They were very nice to me. They were always curious about my eyes and my clothes. They tried to call me “pretty” in English. I tried not wince when they did that.
I let them put some pink beads and bands in my hair. They gave me pigtails like theirs. They painted a little star on my face. They snuck me extra food, despite the fact I had more than enough and they had so little.
I thought of you and mom. I knew I had to leave soon. I knew I had to record what happened to me, so you wouldn’t be afraid of the worst.
The villager was able to borrow a camera. I recovered the gun and found a good tree. I put the camera on a stump, set the timer, and took the photo. Then, I re-buried the gun and marked the tree with a number which is special between only you and me, Zoe. You know the one.
I went back to the village and I wrote this. I’ve made two copies of the photo, one for you and one still in my boot. On the back of the photo are all the names I could remember of everyone involved in this.
And that’s it. On all these pages is the whole story, as best as I can tell it. You probably would’ve found better words, Zoe. You were always better at letters.
I love you, Zoe. I love you with a poke to the ear. Give mom all my love. Never lose hope. I’ll find a way home.
Your Brother,
Adrian Braxis
________________________________________________________________________________
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 09:24 pm (UTC)I must admitt that I had a hard time trying to figure out a clear, tactical advantage with zapping your enemy. What I settled on, so far as backstory, is that the perfected weaponry has a significant, mental effect. The original (which was quite crude) just changed the basic, genetic form.
In this later generation technology, I see it as they've managed to change how endorphins in those exposed are produced and regulated. Because of this, the enemy's mind first clicks off for a certain time and when they wake, they'd (ideally) welcome any advancing army with flowers and hugs (as liberators) because they'd be so happy.
Unfortunately, there's a radiation backwash from someone holding the weapon which is similar to exposure to the original style of the weapon. The commanders are experimenting with whether the exposure causes the same, mental effects though or whether those using the weapons can still be controllable soliders.
I also see the reason why Black Ops is because the style of weaponry is banned worldwide.
Hope that helps. It's still a first draft of the concept. I want to iron out a lot of these background issues before I try to put it into an actual image of a letter. ^_^ Thanks again for the feedback <3!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 06:07 pm (UTC)And cute picture, too!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 09:26 pm (UTC)