Posts Tagged ‘False news report’

April 25, 2117

Well, now we know. I’m sure you’ve all seen the news broadcast by now…

“Tonight we bring you an update from Muni Six. It seems our homegrown terrorists, members of the Legion, are at it yet again. Earlier this week a concerned citizen, a local man by the name of Maritizio Polom, stumbled upon some startling information. Mr. Polom says he overheard two criminals discussing an illegal delivery of water. He heard where and when the stolen goods were being delivered, and as a good Patriot, he was quick to convey this information to the nearest Containment Administrator. The Premiers confirmed the delivery and seized over 1,200 bottles of water.”

The video feed cut from the anchor desk to an interview of Mr. Polom. “I don’t know if I’m a hero.” He wore a sheepish grin, feigning humility. “I mean, I didn’t know if they were radicals, or just crazy or what…but I knew it wasn’t right and figured, man I just… you can’t hear something like and that and pretend you didn’t. You know? You gotta do what’s right…for the Nation.”

“Indeed.” The anchor smiled broadly as the feed cut back to her. “And a good thing he did too. While the Elites suspect Braden James is behind this, they aren’t sure how far this goes just yet. They don’t know the motives for the delivery, the source or even who it was intended for. Though, they did apprehend the three who made the delivery, as well as thirteen others they believe intended to accept delivery. Of course, we will tell you more as additional details become available. But for now, let’s tune in to today’s earlier press conference.”

Video showed Sheriff Garrett addressing the media with arms outstretched, palms to the crowd as though he were making a grand proclamation from atop his dais. “Now, all of us, the entire Capital, heck the entire Nation owe Mr. Polom a bit of gratitude. He was forthcoming in sharing this information and helped thwart a possible attack, or at the very least, prevented Legion terrorists from again removing themselves from you and I. They may believe themselves above our laws, our restrictions, but thanks to Mr. Polom, they are reminded that they must endure the same water restrictions as the rest of us. To show our thanks, the Municipal Six Capital would like to extend an offer to Mr. Polom and his entire family. He is a true Patriot and as such, we would like to extend every comfort possible.”

The camera zoomed out to show him being ushered to the stage, bewildered.

Sheriff Garrett continued. “Mr. Polom, we would like to offer you a new home within the Capital, amongst the Elites. This would be for you and your entire family. Now, I understand your current appointment is as a Transport Loader. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“How would you like a new appointment?” He chuckled slightly at the confusion in Polom’s eyes, brushing off the visible trepidation and instead showing it as innocence for our viewers. “How would you like to be an Elite Chauffer? You’ll transport other Elites between Municipals, into the Underbelly, anywhere the programmable routes won’t allow. How does that sound? Hm?”

“That…” He gave a shaky breath of disbelief. “That would be amazing, Sir.”

“Wonderful!” the Sheriff gushed as the feed landed back on the anchor desk.

“Well, that was mighty generous of them, wasn’t it?” the anchor flashed her disingenuous smile at the camera once more. “So you see viewers, being a Patriot, supporting our Nation… that is all the Elites ask of us. And, as they proved yet again, to do so will only be met with generosity.”

Too disgusted to listen to any more of their lies and misinformation, I shut off my screen. What aired in this evening’s special did hold more information than I had expected. What it didn’t show however, was the truth.

Instead, they painted that snake of a man as a hero, welcoming him into their ranks, giving him prosperity for outing us. It was a very bold lesson and won them a lot of Patriots today. I don’t know of a time when the Legion, the entire Opposition, was in such ill favor in the eyes of the public, and it seems they will be pushing further down that path, turning as many disinterested citizens against us by any means possible. Such “generosity” may even grow dissent within the Opposition, more so than it already has. But this is a ploy, a bribe akin to the promise of heaven upon death to those who are deserving. It is a dirty practice used by those who seek power to convince the weak. The Elites’ use of this tool is not new, but it will make our intentions even more difficult.

Of course, the media neglected to further discuss the “apprehension” of the three men who delivered the water, and the thirteen others who attempted to retrieve it. Aware of the delivery, the Elites lay in wait and as our vehicle backed into the tunnel, they were ambushed. Our driver was killed instantly, parts of his brains splattered along his headrest as the other two were dragged from the vehicle. Each of them had their hands chopped off crudely by way of machete. The two men then had tourniquets tied to their arms, bandages applied to slow the bleeding of their stumped limbs and each were returned to the vehicle. The vehicle was edged out of the tunnel to ensure the sun could penetrate the windows and allow for our record breaking heat (in excess of 110 degrees) to join the tormented men within the cab of the truck.

When we were briefed, we witnessed all footage, footage not disseminated amongst the masses in this evening’s broadcast. I watched as they captured each of those thirteen souls, people desperate for life-sustaining water, our own brothers and sisters hoping they could conceal enough to get their loved ones through the next month. Each was captured alive, if not uninjured and made to stand in the shadows along the entrance to the tunnel. Each was held at gun point, gagged to ensure they could issue no alarm to fellow Legion members who might stumble into the Elites’ trap and … they watched. They watched the men inside the truck drift back and forth between shock, delusion from lost blood and nausea from heat exhaustion. Sweat rolled off the men in the truck as they moaned and cried. Begged. They became violently ill, one even banging his stump of a left arm on the window, hoping, demanding, needing humanity to engage one of his tormenter’s conscience, to no avail. The other flopped onto his back and tried kicking a window out, either forgetting that they had converted the Legion’s delivery truck to include bullet-proof windows, or hoping God would grant him the strength to break through regardless. Both men drowned in their own misery before sundown and all the forced spectators were promptly brought to stand before the vehicle in a half circle. Elites were sure to give them a good view of the inside of the cab as the guns held to each of their thirteen heads finally gave way, committing their bodies to the ground at the mouth of the tunnel.

In true Elite form, there was to be no service for those who had been executed. They would not be returning the bodies to loved ones. Instead, the water was claimed for their own stash, and surveillance was updated to ensure should anybody venture upon the scene in the hopes of retrieving a loved one, they too would be captured and appropriately punished.

After all, it’s the Elites’ America now, a country where to strive for life is to sin. 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.