A Box At The Foot Of A Wall

Hello.

This is… Um, this is Private Isabel Henderson of Moblie Task Force Rho-3 "Hit And Run".

Heh, go figure.

Status report is that its five-thirty-two and we are, um, we are in possession of the anomaly. Trade off with the fed went off great but…

It's kinda just sitting here. In its box. Looks like a very depressing cooler.

It's blue.

Fuck, ya know this was always Olly's job. He did the mission status updates and the check ins with command and all that shit. I don't know what to say here.

We were on our way back to the safehouse and we were just chatting about some bullshit.

Julio wouldn't shut up about the food here. He was just so fuckin fascinated by Lou May or something. We went back and forth about that. Gus was plain chess on his phone. Every now and then he's grown or curse. Ceaser kept nagging Cap, asking what was in the box we were hauling. I remember Celia kept going on about her new boyfriend. Always saying things like "Oh Randy told me about that!" or "Randy would totally love that!". She must of missed him a whole to be that fucking annoying about it. I mean, I guess it was the first time they were apart since they got together…

Fuckin hell…

We just didn't seem him. We were just driving through the routes of some foreign city like we had don't a thousand time before and joking about boyfriends back home and local cuisine. We weren't looking. Cap did all the looking. All the looking and the driving and none of the talking. But he… He was- I dunno he was off. Maybe he knew something we didn't or maybe he just didn't take his pills that mourning but he wasn't as attentive as usual. The cap didn't seem him.

As we were crossing the intersection. So close. So go damn close to the safe-house. And I just looked out the the driver side window.

No helmet. Black hair. Driving a blue scooter. Big backpack worn on the front, with one little red wire poking out from the bag.

Celia said something about Randy.

The bomb went off and it felt like a giant had kicked the car. He had driven into our side as it went off and we just skid across the tarmac. Must have been at least fifteen feet.

I had seen IEDs before. Hell, I'd even dealt IED's before. The process felt so much longer on the receiving end though. The bomb hit and I just kinda… Reeled, I guess, for what I swore was five solid minutes. Just rocking back and forth in my car seat hanging onto consciousness my a fucking daisy.

When I was finally got to grips I pushed out the car door and tumbled out onto the asfault and crawled to the back of the car and pulled open the trunk.

That was a mistake.

The crate was there put so was everyone else. Ceaser had been siting on the wrong side. This was a regular car, no bullet proof glass or ballistic armour. The were was a big fuckin hole on teh left side of his chest where where the shrapnel tore through. Blood was leakin all down his shirt, down his leg and onto the floor in fuckin buckets.

A piece had hit Clia right between the eyes. It kinda poked out of her skull.