April 25, 2117

Hi there my fellow Legion members. It is with a heavy heart that I address you today.

We recently made an attempt to deliver water rations to Legion members of Municipal Six. We had enough water supply to ease the next month substantially for several dozen of you. Unfortunately, the Elites knew of our delivery, and I have since been able to determine how they learned of it.

Please know, this broadcast blog has not been compromised. However, my ability to maintain the confidentiality of the information communicated herein only goes so far. Once I put the information into your hands, I cannot control it. That is why it is imperative you communicate my messages to no one. Somebody, undoubtedly fueled by compassion and the desire to help their fellow man, shared intelligence on the delivery. That communication was intercepted by the Elites, and lives were lost as a result. Do I need to remind you all that the Elites have eyes and ears everywhere? I would have thought not, but based on what I’ve witnessed, it seems I must.

So, here goes: the information disseminated herein is ONLY for the readers of this blog. Colton and I are continually notifying more Legion members to tune in, but we ensure such communication is entirely without risk. Please, do not share what you learn here. If you want to help, share your water, not its location. Speaking in hushed tones doesn’t conceal your secrets; it only alerts the nearest patrol drone to tune in, announcing that there is information to be had. Telling somebody you believe to be member, having faith in them… it is not the same as a guarantee. Colton’s security clearance and our ability to access information provides the only guarantee. Those are the people we alert. Telling a friend, a loved one, even if it is paper exchanged in a handshake, code conveyed by hand signals or lights…. these efforts only make us all more vulnerable. I appreciate your efforts, but they must stop. If they do not, I will not endanger more lives. Instead, I will no longer alert you to assistance and aid. This is our first chance… this blog, CLOVER America, is the only thing that belongs to us. The Elites cannot access it. Would you really choose to throw the one thing that is truly ours away because of carelessness, because of your fool-hardy attempt to help others? If you’re unsure, let me explain the consequences of a bleeding heart.

Just hours after my post indicating the location of the delivery went live, there was a citizen, a regular, everyday Transport Loader in Municipal Six who was headed home from a long day of unloading food to the FRE when he noticed two people cloaked in dark shadows with eyes to the sky. It peaked his interest, especially when he saw they were waiting for a break in the drones’ patrol above. So, he altered his pace and as he sauntered by, he caught a snippet of a hurried conversation exchanged between the two.

“Really? Free water?” the first whispered, dubious.

“Yeah. There for the taking, just be there early. Pitman Tunnels entrance. 0600 hours.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Now, this exchange is how our friendly Transport Loader described it, in his words. While the language may have been embellished, the key pieces were correct. As soon as this citizen heard that exchange, he scurried to the nearest Guard Post and demanded to speak with a supervisor. When they arrived, undoubtedly to arrest or eliminate him for the disturbance, he gushed the information he had ascertained. Dumbfounded by his claim, they brought him before the Premiers and we were tasked with verifying same. Unfortunately, I was already tasked elsewhere and didn’t participate, but those who did confirmed that sure enough, a truck load of bottled water was being dropped off, as promised.

But what was it that compelled this citizen to divulge such information? While difficult for us to comprehend, most regular citizens endeavor to get in the good graces of the Elites. They hope it will buy them favors, immunity or if nothing else, the ability to continue in this life. Knowing this, the Elites used him to perpetuate this illusion. They filmed the entire scenario and are editing now to run a feature on it, showing the attempted “treason” by Legion members in seeking water they weren’t entitled to. They question why Legion members believe themselves above the law, why they believe they are entitled to more water than non-members… and the deaths. They will actually be televising the deaths of all those involved. For now, I will not discuss this aspect of the tragedy. I first want to see how it is presented, and then tell you the truth. Their feature is expected to run on this evening’s news. When you watch it, when you see the disgusting illusion they paint for all National citizens, keep in mind one thing: the Elites are clever. Though they are restricting water to a degree that will result in countless deaths, they will paint those who strive for life as the enemy. They are gaining momentum in turning all Nationals against us, recruiting them to their side. They are manipulative savages, keenly aware of society’s desperation, their need to be included, even if such security is only a guise used to gain their cooperation in their own exploitation. When facing such evil, do you really think you have any rights, much less the ability to speak freely? Do not communicate anything you read here to others. To do so, is to hand more power to the enemy and will result in my refusing to cooperate. We would lose the greatest thing we have… a springboard to a brighter tomorrow.

Maintain your silence or surrender. The choice is yours.

Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 22, 2117

Abort! Abort! If you’re planning on picking up some of the water described yesterday, DON’T! Somehow (I don’t yet know how), the Elites learned of the supply/location. They’re using it as bait. Delivery was made less than twenty minutes ago. Our three men who made the delivery didn’t check in. We are working to determine their whereabouts, but if you planned on getting water, just sit tight. We will get another supply to you.

For those who won’t see this because they are already en route…. if you’ve somehow managed to hold onto your faith… May God be with you.

I communicate this message with the deepest regret. And for anybody we may lose, I offer my deepest sympathies. I will update you as and when I know more.

Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 21, 2117

The signal isn’t strong today, and I’m afraid the communication between all necessary proxy servers will not hold long to maintain encryption. So, I say only this:

Bottled water will be delivered for Municipal Six Legion members at the entrance to the Pitman Tunnels, just inside the border to the Middle. Delivery to be tomorrow, 0600. Implement standard Legion protocol, ensure you are not followed and take only what you can conceal on your person. No unnecessary risks and come alone. Do not share the information. You know the drill.

This will be a first come, first serve basis. Best of luck.

Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 20, 2117

Well, it appears the perpetual drought is going to impact all of us here in Muni Six a bit more than usual. Of course, by all of us, I mean all those who are not Elites. Rest assured, their lawns, swimming pools, golf courses, long, hot showers, decorative fountains,  etc. will remain unaffected. However, all those in the Middle, and especially in the Underbelly, please consider yourselves warned.

Last week, we participated in a meeting to which we received our subsequent Premier briefing just yesterday. We were given certain orders to implement that will have a direct impact on each of you. Our orders indicate we will be providing details and/or deliveries to Elites placed throughout the Middle and Underbelly to ensure they continually have access to clean water. However, a broadcast will be made across Muni 6 indicating that all other citizens will be subject to severe water restrictions.  Those in the Middle will be allotted only one gallon of water per person, per week for the entire month of May. As for those of you in the Underbelly, you will receive one liter…just one measly liter of water per person, per week. Now, we all know, such amounts are not able to sustain life. The Elites are aware of this as well; they suffer no delusions that one liter is sufficient for seven days’ hydration. In fact, a handful of Elites even voiced concern that such restriction would cause their Non-Threat, Viables, and other Underbelly “meat-suits”, to experience a premature death. Their concern is that such deaths are unnecessary and would make future broad medical testing and conflict scenarios difficult without the endless supply of “meat-suits”. Despite this concern, the restrictions are being implemented and will commence May 1st.

It may be interesting to note that the few Elites who had voiced such concern suddenly went “missing”. Of course, the Capital states that their missing status while uncanny, is nothing more than coincidence. Even more coincidental was the rash of “Fresh Meat” deliveries made throughout the Underbelly. The Capital claimed the meat to be a gift for the Underbelly. As sickening as this may be, remember, at the end of the day, life sustaining protein is still life sustaining. You had no knowledge that what you consumed last week following the Elites’ open discussion was anything abnormal. You couldn’t have known, just as I didn’t until today. Times have never been more desperate, and though cannibalism is still nausea-inducing, it cannot be foregone in the face of true hunger and starvation. You have done nothing wrong. The Capital served a message to the dissenters in our meeting, and in so doing, were able to embolden your menu. For that, I apologize and assure you, if I learn of something like this again, I will give what warnings I can.

Back to the more pressing issue: If you have a secure/hidden storage area, fill every container you can spare with water. Remember, water storage in unclean containers can be dangerous. If this is a method you must use, please ensure you boil the water before drinking to reduce your chances of e-coli consumption, etc. As we proceed into the month, it will get more and more difficult to heed this next bit of advice: Do not drink simply because you’re thirsty. Yes, to be thirsty is to be dehydrated. However, try to pace yourself; take only the occasional sip in an effort to keep severe dehydration at bay. If you are unable to control your usage early on, you will deplete your resources too soon.

Of course it goes without saying, but do not use water for showering, cleaning, washing clothes, etc. Beyond this, we will have to get creative if we are to survive the next month. Colton and I have secured six contraptions that will allow you to filter, reuse and yes, drink your urine. Please note, these once belonged to the Military Nationals, and if the directions are followed properly, it is perfectly safe (even if not exactly appetizing). We will be supplying these contraptions to known Legion members we believe appropriately placed to make the best use of them – those who will be able to share with a high number of you. Additionally, we have a small stockpile of bottled water we have been collecting over the past few years. We will make them available as regularly as possible and alert you to the locations. I do apologize we are unable to do more, but the bottled water will be on a first come, first serve basis.

The odds against those of you in the Underbelly are enormous here. However, those of you in the Middle are not immune to dehydration either. We must be frugal, we must be creative, and remember, fruits and vegetables contain water. Select those over sodium-rich processed meats and canned goods from the FRE when you can. Be courageous, and do not give up. More importantly, please, please do not forget your humanity through this. Share your water if you can, just as Colton and I will be doing all that we can. This is going to be a difficult month for all of us, but please, do not fight amongst yourselves. Do not take advantage of non-members, and don’t forget to share with non-members too. Though your neighbors may not belong to the Legion as we do, we are all victims of the Elites. Don’t lose sight of that.

Any emergency scenarios or requests for aid, please post them here. We will alert you to locations of water as we can…Beyond that…let’s hope for rain and pray the restriction ends before the arrival of summer.

Until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 19, 2117

Well my fellow Legion members, we’ve had a quiet couple of days here in Muni 6.. Since news of the Eielson family’s tragic “murder/suicide” aired, it seems Legion members and Opposition members alike have allowed themselves to be persuaded into a tiny pen of complacency. Please, do not allow this. I urge you to fight through the haze of fear twirling around you. Yesterday, even our Legion’s meeting was cancelled. This is not unheard of, and Lord knows it’s not the first, nor will it be the last, to be cancelled, but what was the reasoning behind the cancellation? I haven’t heard any rumblings within the Upper that they had any suspicions of a gathering of Legion members. Even if they had, we have met under far greater odds, and yet yesterday… nothing. Colton and I were there, as were three other members, all of us, members of the Elites. And yet, those with arguably less obstacles to overcome in participating in the meeting… nothing. If there was something that prohibited you from participating, please say so here. Perhaps there is something that I am missing. But, if it was dread that kept you at bay, please reconsider that decision. Fear is a weapon, a weapon they used against us when they eliminated Eielson’s family. However, we too are learning to wield the same weapon. We must continue down our current path if we are to be victorious. Our very own leader, Braden James, sanctioned yesterday’s meeting, despite his usual recommendation to remain concealed and maintain vigilance. Those of you who know me, know this next statement already. For those of you who don’t know me personally, please allow me to introduce myself a bit more clearly.

My name is Harper Eckles, and I’m a bitch.

In fact, it’s one of the first things you notice about me. First, my dark skin amid a sea of primarily white Elites. Second, I am unwavering, unforgiving and blunt. Because I am a female, this usually groups me into the realm of bitch. If efficiency is gained by wearing such a label, so be it. But, in that mindset, I cannot understand why a previously planned meeting was foregone because of something so small as fear. Fear. Fear? Need I remind you, we all live in a constant state of fear!

People have risked their lives to coordinate yesterday’s meeting, some lives actually being given. Have you all forgotten about Arman Fuentas? Three weeks ago, he was attempting to communicate with another Legion supporter, confirming the location of yesterday’s meeting, when he was found crossing a desert lot moving from the Underbelly into the Middle. He was apprehended and interrogated. He managed to survive thus far in life by feigning ignorance, being labeled as a “Non-Threat, Viable” citizen. As such, the Elites kept him alive in the Underbelly thus far, assuming he was compliant, for later use in scientific testing. (If you’d like more details on this, please see: http://cloveramerica.net/2015/04/30/municipal-two-update/)

During interrogation, Arman relied on the same talent he had used to get by in life, again feigning ignorance and never letting on that he even knew of the Legion, much less belonged. Because the Elites believed him incapable of thought, they bought his story that he was only looking for food and didn’t question further. Instead, they employed one of their favorite measures for ensuring those in the Underbelly do not leave the Underbelly without authorization. They chose fear.

They placed him in the quad of Reid Middle School. For those of you outside Muni 6, Reid Middle School is the only Middle School in our Middle. Generally, it houses around 45,000 pupils, depending on how many are eliminated annually due to standardized testing. At the center of the school is a quad, used for physical resilience testing and grooming (whereupon students are taught pain tolerance and to maintain composure in sweltering heat, etc.) This quad is where Arman was sentenced. They ensured he had nothing on his person, no personal effects whatsoever, looped a chain around his neck and chained it to post at the center of the concrete quad. Simple. Effective.

That’s it. That was his punishment, they chained him to a post and left him. Those students walked past him daily, aware that he had attempted to enter the Middle without authorization. They witnessed him waste away, before their very eyes. Even those who had ridiculed and mocked him early on couldn’t make eye contact by day four as he shriveled into non-existence. He never called out to any of them, never revealed his allegiance to the Legion even as his mind began to leave him behind. He kept quiet so that we could meet, so that we could take another step in moving toward the New Revolution. Three attempted rescue missions failed, collecting another eighteen lives. In total, nineteen lives were given to allow yesterday’s meeting. But with nobody there to participate, what was the point?

Though, Arman did serve as an excellent Elite lesson for those kids: to do something without the Elties’ blessing is to sin, punishable only by torment and excruciating pain… to which death is the only release.

Now, if the Elites do this to a man (not to mention tens of thousands of kids forced to witness), over something so small as hunger, in what world do you think it best to remain compliant? Remaining united, planning our next steps, that is the only way we break free of these chains of fear. Join me, or don’t. That choice is for you to decide. But, do not claim allegiance when you refuse to participate. To do so is to jeopardize the lives of others for no reason. If you do that, what separates you from the Elites?

Our meeting is being rescheduled. The details will follow. So, until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 16, 2117

Well, we’ve all seen the broadcast by now. The headline read “Innocent family slain by father recently recruited by the domestic terror group, The Legion”. Subsequent headlines suggested, “Legion recruit murders family in what can only be described as, a bloodbath”, “Legion orders one of their own to murder innocent family”… the list goes on.

Now, we could go on for days about the injustice of being labeled domestic terrorists, particularly when it is us who is working to re-establish American ideals and regain freedom. But, that is a discussion for another time. Today, we will discuss the true story behind Craig Eielson’s death.

Nearly one year ago, a concerned Elite operative began to question some of the coincidences in recent Missions within Muni Six. It seemed that somehow, somebody on the inside was alerting Legion supporters to impending attacks. They couldn’t determine any other cause for the unusually low Legion casualties on recent raids. Based upon the pattern of inconsistency, they had narrowed their suspicions down to my Premier Unit, led by Eielson. Each of us had come under scrutiny, and I had been pegged as a likely suspect. Evidently, I need to be more cautious in future alerts, though I assure you, this blog remains secure.

My only saving grace came in the form of my horror on April 5th. You may recall the events of that day,(http://cloveramerica.net/2015/04/23/the-devils-kiss/) wherein I had stood by watching fellow Legion members burn, helpless beyond measure. Well, the EIU (Elite Investigative Unit) also remembered that day. They spoke with those I had stood with on the sidewalk, and they questioned the devil who had greeted me in celebration, extensively. The devil supported my statement as to my involvement in achieving the Elite’s Mission that day, and my refusal to render aid to suspected targets. As such, I was cleared. Eielson was to participate in that horrid Mission as well, but a medical emergency experienced by his wife while giving birth to their newborn daughter had captured his attention instead. While the Elites did confirm the birth of his daughter, they found his absence suspicious and so, in the overnight hours this morning, they stole into his house immobilizing him and conducted their interrogation.

The entire event was recorded by both video and in fleeting moments of terror by photograph. Both were provided to us in the briefing. For those of you unaware, all Premiers are to provide the Elites with their home keys and security codes as a safeguard to ensure that should something happen to us, our families or any National documents in our residence can be secured and protected. We watched from the home’s security feed, as well as the helmet mounted cameras of the twelve Premiers participating in the Mission as they surrounded his residence, passed silently through the gate and filed through both the front and rear doors. Wearing their helmets with night vision lenses, they stole silently through the rooms, ensuring each area was secure. As the Premiers encountered his two oldest daughters, they dinged their wrist communicator, keeping their weapons trained silently on the girls without waking them. Secured.

More Premiers worked their way further down the hall, silently entering the master bedroom. One moved to either side of the bed when the first man placed his hand over the mouth of Eielson’s wife. Her eyes shot open and a river of frantic fear seemed to cascade throughout the home. Her muffled screams couldn’t tell the story of the terror that had gripped her. So, her limbs began to flail instead, desperate to convey the horror. Roused by the motion, Eielson attempted to spring into action, but no sooner had his wife’s mouth been covered did another Premier stab a needle into the side of his neck. Instantly, his body collapsed forward, nearly folding in half on the bed as his body gave in to the toxin. Eielson watched on as his wife was easily overcome, subdued and gagged as he spewed expletives and threats, conveying his confusion. Unable to move, his words were his only weapons. “I demand you tell me what is going on! Why have I been given a debilitator? Get your hands off her!”

Hearing their father shouting, both girls woke with a jolt, the older, only nine years old began screaming and backing away from the man in her room, taking refuge along her headboard. “Daddy!” She screamed, her voice so shrill it must have carried for miles. “Daddy! Mommy! Daddy! Nooooooo!” Her voice dropped, clogged by fearful sobs as the men bound her hands and feet, carrying her down the hall. As they gagged her, the newborn girl began to wail from her crib in the master bedroom, her voice too encased in fear.

The younger daughter, who was only six years old didn’t scream. Instead, she crawled slowly toward the man whose weapon was trained on her, tilting her head slightly as she did so. Watching the footage through his helmet cam was eerie as her large blue eyes searched his face quizzically before we witnessed her entire face light up. “Uncle Peter!” She exclaimed, relieved to know her intruder as a longtime family friend. Her glance shot to the doorway, anxious. “What’s going on?” Her voice was sweet, innocent.

Uncle Peter seemed unmoved by her fragility or her familiarity as he moved in, forcefully flopping her over on the bed, binding her hands and feet. She began to pepper him with questions. “What’s goin’ on? Why? Uncle Peter?” She began to cry. “It’s me Uncle -” She didn’t get to finish her pleas as he jammed the gag into her mouth and carried her toward the living room.

She was placed on the sofa next to her sister and they both leaned into one another, the river of their tears turning into one as they brought the sides of their faces together, their sobs muffled. Their mother was plopped into an armless sitting chair near them. Their calls to one another were muffled. Though the words could not be discerned, the love, the fear, the concern were spoken universally between the three.

Quite regained control down the hall as a Premier carried the baby, also gagged in his arm, laying her on the low glass table at the middle of the room. Eielson was then plopped unceremoniously into the oversized leather chair facing them all, his body corrected to sit back against the chair as he was unable to fight gravity himself. His nose had been bloodied and he too had been adorned with a gag.

It was then that one of the Premiers removed his helmet, placing it on a side-table, facing the room. I haven’t met him personally in the past, but know him as one of our CO’s out of Muni One, or what was formally known as New York. As usual, I will not be divulging names here, in an effort to maintain the security of this blog. I share Eielson’s only because the media has issued his name.  “Evenin'” the man’s voice was gruff as the room went silent. “Beautiful family you’ve got here.” Eielson was unbound but unable to move. His response was muffled but the fury was easily deciphered. Undeterred, his voice remained level. “You know who I am?”

Eielson managed an “Hm-hmm.” in the affirmative through the gag.

“Good.” He lowered to sit on the glass table before Eilson, only a foot from where the baby rested as he pulled a gun from its holster at his waist. “Ground rules. I remove your gag. I ask you questions. You answer. You lie or you say anything that isn’t a direct answer to the question, one of them dies. Clear?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Very good.” The man nodded to another standing behind Eielson who succinctly removed the gag.

No sooner had the gag been removed did Eielson say, “What the hell is going on? What’s this about? I -”

He didn’t finish his demands as the man before him simply raised his arm and pulled the trigger, firing a bullet directly into the forehead of Eielson’s eldest daughter.

“Noo!” Eielson commanded as though he could turn back time even as his wife screamed through her gag. The younger daughter grunted and cried as she scooted away from her sister to the arm of the couch which prevented her retreat. Because the older sister had been angled to comfort her sister, as the younger sister scooted away, the elder’s body continued to tip in her direction until her head landed on the sister’s knees, covering them in blood as it cascaded down the young sister’s legs to pool at her bound feet. The little sister continued to cry in panic, watching her sister’s blood cover her. Whether the commotion, the shot of the firearm or the anguish bursting within the walls, the infant stopped crying.

The man returned his attention to Eielson as Eielson readied to speak again. The man simply raised his weapon and uttered, “You speak out of turn, I get another shot. You’ve only got three more warnings left living.”

Fearing for his family, Eielson said nothing.

“Very good.” Chirped the man as he holstered his weapon. “Now to the questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Eielson responded, his nostrils flared in hostility, but the debilitator denied him further forms of physical protest.

“How long have you been a member of the Legion?”

Eielson’s eyes shot from his daughters to meet the gaze of his interrogator. His mouth opened to speak twice, but his eyes began to search about the room, his wife, his daughters, his own feet, contemplating the best response. Finally settling on an answer he said levelly, “I don’t.”

With a snap of the interrogator’s fingers, Uncle Peter moved to the front of the couch and pulling a blade from his sleeve, slashed the flesh of both the younger daughters legs. More muffled screams burst forth as she shouted “Daddy!” through the gag.

Desperation compelled Eielson to shout, repeating “I DON’T!”

The blade was swiftly planted in the girl’s shoulder. She gave way to the pain, slumping to her side, choking on her pain.

“Damn it!” Eielson raged. “I don’t belong to the Legion!”

The blade was yanked from the shoulder and instead planted in the young girl’s cheek. Her face went pale at the shock of the pain as her eyes searched the man in front of her, betrayal washing over her in a violent wave.

Elites in the briefing room snickered at her reaction as we watched on. I wanted to shout, to scream, to cry… to kill every last one of them. Instead, I relied on the same tactic that got me through my training as an Elite Premier. I swallowed the fury, the putrid disgust and went hard, rigid as stone, bearing witness to it all, just another boulder in the mountain of revenge I will one day unleash in a landside I hope swallows them all.

Shocked to see the blade’s handle jutting from the side of his daughter’s face, Eielson’s demeanor changed. He grew submissive, supple. “Two years.” It was a lie. He was never a Legion member, not even an Opposition supporter.

Accepting the admission as truth, the blade remained where it was.

“Where are they located?” The interrogator continued. Receiving no response he persisted. “Where is their Base in Muni Six?”

“I don’t know.” Tears welled in Eielson’s eyes as his fears were confirmed. The blade was removed from the small child’s face amid more muffled screams and instead slid along her neck, freeing a torrential rain of blood. Both parents wept freely as the lifeless child’s body was pushed to the back of the couch, the blood from the two sisters becoming one shared pool of life robbed on the couch cushions.

Unaffected, Uncle Peter returned to his post behind the couch amid cheers within the briefing room. I was biting the inside of my cheeks so hard, I tasted my own blood as though I were there in the room with them, amid the fear, the stench of murder.

“I’m done playing games!” The interrogator shouted as he scooped the newborn into his arms.

Fear hushed the parents as Eielson eyed his superior suspiciously.

At this point in the video, everybody in the briefing room leaned forward, almost jubilant. It made me sick.

Regaining his composure, the man bounced the newborn in his hand lightly, testing her weight. She reached for him and grabbed his thumb, the expression on her face serene despite the gag. “This is one cute little potato you’ve got here.” he said sweetly.

Knowing the direction this was headed, several within the briefing room laughed heartily and leaned back comfortably in their chair even as my resolve weakened.

“You know my favorite thing to do with potatoes?”

“No.”

Accepting his omission, the man responded simply with “Peel ’em.”

Eielson steeled himself for what was to come, his jaw clenching, his gaze hardening but as the question passed through the man’s lips, Eielson was at a loss.

“Where are they?”

No response.

“Where?”

“I don’t know!” He shouted as the man dug his knife below the skin on the infant’s right foot. He moved the blade, peeling the skin from the body, working up the leg. “Noooo!” Eielson roared, drowning out the wails of the baby and his wife. Though he still couldn’t move, the debilitator was wearing off and his fingers gripped the arms of his chair in desperation, his toes curling and uncurling as well.

“Where?” The man demanded.

“I don’t know!” The question and answer continued to repeat as the man continued to peel the skin from the helpless child. Subhuman roars and screams sought relief, reaching out from the television in the briefing room, but they couldn’t reach me. In a futile attempt to remove myself from the devastation I closed my mind down, hearing none of it, seeing none of it though both the images and sound will always haunt my nightmares. I was aware of cheering, hooting and laughing within the room, but abhorrence cloaked my psyche and even those calls couldn’t reach me. Instead, I focused on the eyes.. the little girl’s blue eyes who had seen so little but known so much pain. I watched as her body registered shock, fragmenting her experience, shielding her from the torture. I watched as the eyes went still, her life leaving the remnants of her body behind.

Eielson’s face was contorted in anguish when I again tuned in to what we were witnessing. His eyes streamed tears though his jaw remained set.

The man carelessly tossed the newborn onto the bodies of her older sisters on the couch. “You’ve only got one wrong answer left. How can you belong to the Legion and not know where they are?”

Eielson kept his gaze on the murderer of his children. “They come to me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know their names.”

Without delay, another man moved to Eielson’s wife and began strangling her, the view from his helmet-mounted camera highlighting her desperation. Another round of repeated questions and answers replayed until the life had been drained from her blue eyes as well, eyes so similar to the baby’s.

“You bastard.” Eielson managed before the man’s next round found its way through his skull. the blade was placed in his left hand, the pistol, his right.

The video was shut off and our briefing concluded with a reminder which was given to those who had been cheering the demise of Eielson and his family. They were told to remember what they witnessed, that Legion allegiance runs deeper than expected. If not, he would have caved during that interrogation. We were told to acknowledge the strength of supporters’ allegiance to the Legion and never underestimate it. Well, at least they got that part right. Our allegiance should never be underestimated.

The death that befell Eielson’s family was my fault; I had been sloppy and they had paid the price. However, despite the media’s report, that catastrophe was not at our hands. The blame was placed with us to reignite the fire within all Patriots to the Nation and tell them that it is us who are evil. The atrocities they committed were not against our own, but the message they sent with it is clear. They are out for blood. Our blood. They will stop at nothing to end the Legion. But, their acknowledgement of our allegiance is the first signal of fear I have seen in some time. We are turning the tide and it is more important now than ever, that we continue this path. So, until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.

April 16, 2117

Anytime now, you all will see a “Breaking News” banner fly across your televisions, monitors, tablets and feeds on your phones as you are redirected to the broadcast. Likewise, a condensed version will broadcast on your watches, mobile lenses (for those of you in the Underbelly who don’t know what mobile lenses are, these are Elite issued glasses) and through your Federal email accounts if, of course, you are an Elite. I’m not exactly sure what “details” the media will share with us, but I participated in a full briefing today. What we will see in the impending news alert is little more than a message, a threat, to our beloved Legion. I am confident it will deviate from the truth in almost every way. So, for all you fellow Legion members, please know that once the broadcast has concluded, I will fill in the blanks the media omits.

A family is dead tonight, in what appears to be a tragic murder-suicide. Tragic? Yes. Murder-suicide? That depends on your perspective. Craig Eielson had worked as a fellow Premier here in Muni Six for more than twenty years. In fact, he was one of my direct supervisors and had taken me under his blood-soaked wing from the moment I received my appointment as a Premier. I dare say that despite the fact Craig was an Elite, I believe he had the potential to have been a good man if the Elites hadn’t interfered. Like any good Elite, he was incapable of remorse, and ever the dutiful Premier, he had embraced the torture, or as they refer to it “training”, which had coaxed his humanity away from his heart. In its place, he accepted compliance with orders and absolute evil. While I had seen him do things and give orders that make me shudder to recall, I will always remember the regret I found in his eyes. He was unflinching in his role as a Premier, but I saw the ghosts he collected behind those amber gateways to his soul. He was a monster, a monster they created, but if they hadn’t molded him into that creature I do believe he could have been a truly wonderful man. For that, I am sad to see him go. I will not bemoan his passing, for every Elite that dies is one less enemy we face, but I do regret that his fate had been bound unabashedly to the horror his life’s path led him through. He had been given no choice, and even if only for that, I think we can all raise our glass. For now, I will wait to see what the broadcast tells, but I will give you the whole story shortly. So until next time…

We are the Legion. The Legion lives on. Harper Eckles, out.