Posts Tagged ‘Legion broadcast’

May 6, 2117

(…continued from earlier post)

“Don’t say the Opposition. It’s a dirty word.” The horrid man spoke in a deep voice that betrayed the juvenile reverence with which he spoke. His words and tone were those of a toddler, but the man was well into his thirties.

Perturbed by the disconnect and already regretting her admission, Ella only shrugged her shoulders and scowled.

“Do you belong to them? To the, the Opposition?” He barely whispered as he uttered the last word.

She shook her head only once.

“The Legion, then?”

To that Ella scoffed. “I’m only thirteen.”

The man’s head tilted again as he sat forward in his chair, entranced. “Thirteen is a good age. It’s an important age. That’s when you really want to belong.”

“Belong?”

“To something. Anything. I assume that’s why you joined the Opposition. You wanted to belong. Like your mother.”

“What do you know about my mother?” Ella had grown defensive, territorial.

“Nothing.” Though still creepy, the man too became defensive, surely an emotion born of vulnerability. None of us viewers knew his story, but we could see, just as young Ella could, his story was beginning to unfold. “Just that your mother must have been beautiful.” Silence again claimed the room before the man cleared his throat and ventured, “It’s ok to want to belong.”

She didn’t respond, but I saw the sympathy. It was in her eyes, her expression, her heart. “You know, it’s also ok if you don’t belong.”

“What?!” He lashed out, crossing the room in one leap. He had his hands wrapped around her neck before she even had a chance to block him. Her air was running out as she hit and scratched at his arms, but he acted like he didn’t even feel it. Instead, he raged. “Are you saying I don’t belong? Huh? Is that what you’re saying? Is it? Is it!!”

She shook her head desperately as her tears streamed down her face.

Without warning, he let go and began to pace in front of her as Ella struggled to suck air back into her lungs.

Finally, as both their breathing returned to normal he mumbled. “’Cause I do belong you know?”

“I’m sorry.” She admitted.

He stopped to face her. “Sometimes I doubt it, and when I do, I…” He knelt before her. She tried to scramble away, but he blocked her escape and rolled up his shirt sleeve. “When I wonder if I belong, I do this.”

As viewers, we couldn’t see, but Ella’s reaction told us everything. Her face sagged and the light within her was snuffed out. She was empty, hollow, all hope diminished.

His voice was calm when he spoke next. “You see? All of you, you join the Opposition because you’re scared, because you’re lonely and want to belong. But, if you knew another way, if you knew how to make yourself feel, something to connect you, you wouldn’t have to do that.”

Ella searched his face, desperate for something, anything that could be an alternative to what he was offering.

“That’s what I’m going to do. You’ll be the first. You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“I’m going to save everyone, show them how to belong without joining the Opposition…I’m going to eliminate the Opposition.”

“Eliminate the…” she couldn’t bring herself to go on.

“It’s like I said; you have an amazing destiny Ella. Simply amazing. You and I are going to create history. Right here. In this room.” Still mindful to keep his face from the seeking eyes of the camera lens, he moved to the far wall where he pushed on a panel that dropped down.

It was a hidden shelf and compartment from which he pulled a knife and casually moved back to Ella.

“No.” She whimpered as her chest began to quake from her sobs. “Please.” She managed to squeak out. “No.”

“Sh-shh. Don’t cry. It’s not bad. Really. It just helps you feel, so you know you’re not adrift, that you’re connected. See? Pain is the same for everyone. It’s how you know… it’s what ties you to everyone else.”

Ella could do nothing more than cry until the blade brushed along her skin too and screams burst forth. First, he cut the tops of her forearms, and then his own. She scrambled, desperate to get away, but he pinned her down, matching her agony with his own, stoke for stroke. Her shoulder, then his, her cheekbone, then his.

She begged and pleaded. “Stop! Please, stop! It hurts! No! No! Please, please, please, NO!”

He ran the edge of the blade across her forehead causing the blood to run down her entire face. As he matched the stroke across his own forehead, he used his hand to collect his blood, and run it across her newest wound. Then he repeated the process, adding her blood to his. “See?” Despite the blood that coated them both and smeared the tile floor in illustration of their tragedy, his voice was at ease. “Forever, you and me, we will always be bonded.”

“Stop it!” Her voice launched into hysterics. “Stop, stop, stop, Stttttoooooopppppp!” she was choking on the emotion that clogged her throat as she spat her own blood from her mouth.

“You want me to stop?” he rolled back on his haunches.

“Pleeeaaase.” She whimpered.

“But doesn’t it feel nice to belong?” the vulnerability in his voice then caused even me to hold my breath. Every one of us who was watching on knew that her response would determine her future, but with such a fragile psyche in control of that destiny, there was no telling what was the right or wrong answer.

I watched as her eyes locked on his. Her focus was unwavering even as her mind darted back and forth between telling the truth and lying. “No.” she finally said flatly. “You’re hurting me.”

He fell back as though she had kicked him and clutching the knife to his chest, he scuttled back to the center of the room. “Not you too. Not you too. Not you too. Not you too. Not you too.” He mumbled incessantly.

“Not me what?” she was exasperated and in pain, desperation clinging to her words like a weapon as her fear expelled from her in anger. “You’re the one…” her voice quaked as more tears clogged her throat. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

“But…” now he was crying, his voice like that of a child. “”None of you, not any of my past besties I’ve picked out or even my mom… none of you want to be connected to me.” His tone shifted as he rose from the floor. “Why don’t you love me?!”

“Love you?” She cried, horrified. “I don’t even know you!”

Her words caused her captor to lose his mind. He bent forward at the waist, his arms dropping toward the ground as he screeched and bellowed like a wild animal with clenched fists.

Ella slipped and slid across the floor to the corner where she covered her ears and let the tears flow.

He screamed so loudly the camera had difficulty capturing, and the speakers had trouble broadcasting, the varying pitches and sounds that spouted from him. Finally, he dropped to his knees. “My mom didn’t want to be connected to me either.” His voice was raw as he spoke. “So I blew her up.” He spoke the words so matter-of-fact, it was as though he were a different person than the raging beast that had lost its mind a moment ago.

Ella’s hands dropped from her ears.

“But it didn’t help. I’m still alone.” He began to weep. “I tried to save her, but she refused to leave the Opposition. If she just would have listened to me, she could have belonged to me. Then, she wouldn’t have had to belong to the Opposition.” He crawled over to Ella slowly, his blood marking yet another trail on the floor which looked as though it were out of a horror movie.

Though she twisted and fought, Ella had grown weak from blood loss, and her attempt was futile. Instead, she could do little more than watch as he held her wrist, the blade just above it.

His voice was small, desperate as she spoke. “Ella, will you belong to me?”

Through her tears, she shook her head. “No.” she blubbered softly. “I’m sorry.”

Again, he roared as he jumped to his feet, stepping purposefully to the same collapsed shelf he had pulled the knife from. “What does the Opposition have on you, huh? What’s so special about it? Why isn’t it good enough for you to just belong to me?” Again, his voice broke as he was overcome. “Why doesn’t anyone want to belong to me?”

Pulling something from the shelf, he turned back to her. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Terrified, Ella offered, “You’re not.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No. Really. I do. I swear, I-”

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO LIE TO ME!” Then his voice shriveled up as he continued. “No secrets. That’s all I wanted, was no secrets, but you can’t do that can you?” He shrugged. “I’ll love you enough to make up for it anyway. I still want to give you the greatest destiny in the world.”

“What destiny?”

“We’re going to show them.” He was exasperated that she still didn’t understand as he moved to stand before her.

“Who? What?” she blubbered.

“All of them. Everyone. You and me. We’re going to show them how to belong without joining the Opposition.”

“What are you talking about?” And then, Ella gasped as the air left her body when he opened his hand. There, lying on his palm was a grenade.

The pin was already pulled out.

There was a serenity in his voice as he spoke, even as Ella scrambled to her feet, slipping and sliding in their blood. “We’ll always belong to one another Ella. Always.”

There was a moment, a single fractured moment when the room seemed to fill with energy, and then, after a burst of light and noise, it was gone. The camera feed stopped. Young Ella Chang was gone. And her faceless monster? He ceased to exist.

Of course, the public went crazy as they took to the media to discuss what we had witnessed. Some tried to rationalize it. But how could you? Others glorified it. After all, he wasn’t the only monster among us. Some blamed our beloved Opposition, but we’re used to that. Still others, others could do nothing more than question. How could someone like that have so much money? What was wrong with him? Who was he? Was he truly crazy, or did something cause him to snap? Was it a conspiracy? How on earth did he live so long without being eliminated? Surely he wouldn’t have passed through school without elimination. So, who was he? Who was he related to? What makes a person do that? How did he go unnoticed? Did they know he had a bomb? Did they know he was going to blow that building up? Was anyone else killed or injured?

The questions were endless, but not from me.

I didn’t ponder those questions. I didn’t wonder who he was, who approved it, or what was wrong with him. Instead, I focused on fear.

I am terrified of whatever it was that happened to him, whatever broke him, and more importantly, who is responsible. You see, monsters walk among us, but they are not the same as you and I, nor are they victims or weak. As you know, in our world, only the best and strongest survive. So then, for an extremely wealthy, broken man to reach that point… the answer everyone else is looking for becomes clear.

Ladies and gentlemen, he is not one of us. He was created, his psyche molded to hurt us, to attack us.

To beat us.

So until next time…

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

 

 

 

May 6, 2117

Female; Age: 13

Status: Sold     Price: $7,350,000.00

Well, today it seems the Elites wanted to jump right in and see just how lucrative this pool of evil will really be for them, and it worked. People were practically clamoring over one another to get their bids in today.

I’m going to skip my usual tirade. Instead, I’ll simply recount the event here, in case there are any of you reading this who didn’t tune in. It’ll be far more effective than anything I have to say anyway.

{As a quick note, I stream these posts live and expect that I’ll  receive orders to report soon. If so, I will have to take a break from the post, but will complete the entry upon my return.}

As we tuned in, young, sweet Ella Chang was suspended at the back of the room, her wrists secured by chains to the ceiling under lock and key as the devil walked in. Biting her lower lip, Ella struggled to reign in her emotions. Despite her trembling chin she somehow managed to hold her head high.

“Hi Sweetie.” The man cooed as he dragged a metal chair to sit before her. “What’s your name?”

Her only response was the cascade of tears as they breached their wells.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He assured her.

As the camera zoomed in, we could read the fear, the terror, and the birth of hope in those massive brown eyes of hers, even as the devil kept his back to the camera.

He was six foot tall, average build. His voice, his clothes… everything about him was unremarkable. But he had money. Clearly. Ella hadn’t come cheap.

“It’s ok. Look.” He raised his empty hands to her. “I’m not here to hurt you. Ok?”

Still, she gave no response as her survival instinct had her leaning back, pulling on the chains to gain more distance from him.

Seeing her response, he tsked his tongue. “I’m here to help you. If I was going to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already? I’ll help you. Ok? Together, we’ll get through this, I promise you. You and me. Ok.” He waited for more than two minutes before adding, “You have an incredible destiny before you, my dear. I’m going to help you see to it. All I want to do is help. That’s it. Ok?”

Reluctant, she finally nodded. Her tears began to subside as she was overcome with wonder.

“I’m just here to talk to you.” He stood slowly, pulling out his empty pockets. “See? No weapons. Nothing.”

Ella let out a shaky breath and looked to her chained wrists above.

“That’s it. Just relax.” His voice was gentle and kind as though he were talking someone off the edge of cliff. “I only have one rule.”

Her eyes shot back to his, knowing it had been too good to be true.

“Honesty. That’s all. You and me, we have to be honest with one another, ok?”

Her brow furrowed, but still, she didn’t speak.

“That’s the only way we’re going to get through this. We’re a team now, and that means that we can have no secrets ok? Not one. Now, I paid a lot of money to help you. All I need from you is honesty. Ok? You think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, beginning to form a question she couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Don’t say anything that isn’t true, and don’t hold anything back. Now, you can do that. Can’t you? Hm?”

Her mouth closed and she nodded.

“Good. What’s your name?”

“Ella.” Her voice was timid. “Ella Chang.”

“Very good. It’s nice to meet you Ella.” Though we couldn’t see his face, he must have smiled at her in feigned introduction becuase she tried to mirror the sentiment, but her attempt was fractured and unnerving.

“Are those chains uncomfortable?” She nodded as he moved towards her. “How ‘bout I go ahead and unchain you then? Would you like that?”

She eyed the door as his tone toyed with her. “Now Ella, you aren’t going to try to make a run for it, are you?”

Her head bowed as she shook it.

“Good. Because you and me, we have to stay in here for two hours, and we can’t get out.”

“They why did they chain me?” The words rushed from her mouth before she could hold them in.

The man before her only chuckled. “Clever girl. I’m guessing they did it for my convenience. Surely, they didn’t know I paid all that money to help you. They probably assumed I was a sadistic animal and thought chaining you would make a good impression on me.” He freed first one wrist, then the other. “But I don’t think the chains are necessary. Do you?”

Another wag of the head.

“Good, because we’re friends now. Right?”

Unsure how to answer, she only flashed another maniacal smile at him as she rubbed at her wrists and backed along the wall.

He simply returned to his chair, careful to keep his back to the camera. “How old are you Ella?”

“Thirteen.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“February 3rd.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

After that response, he paused as his voice dropped. “Me too.”

Frightened by his tone, Ella pulled her knees defensively to her chest as she sat on the floor opposite him.

“Do you have a favorite toy?”

“Not really.”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” he roared and had Ella’s face freezing in shock as she held her breath. “I’m sorry.” He regained control. “But, we cannot have secrets between us, Ella. We must be honest. You agreed. That’s the only way I can help you.”

Another nod even though her eyes welled with tears anew.

“What is your favorite toy, Ella?” His voice had rediscovered its previous charm.

“A stuffed bear.”

“Do you sleep with it?”

Though she tried not to react, I saw the disgust begin to bloom within her as she nodded her head.

“Me too.” Her tormentor revealed.

The disdain was evident on Ella’s face. “You what?”

“I sleep with my favorite toy.”

Deadpan, Ella dropped her eyes to the floor between them as the color drained from her face.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” He asked.

She shook her head adamantly.

“You sure?”

She nodded furiously, desperate not to know.

He laughed easily. “I’m sorry Ella. That must sound awkward coming from someone you don’t know. But it’s nothing weird. I just meant, I sleep with my favorite toy too. It’s a stuffed cat my mom gave me when I was little. See? That’s not weird is it?”

The entire world knew that was more than a little weird, but Ella stayed strong and smiled. “No.” She agreed. “It’s nice.”

The purchaser let out a huge gush of air as he settled into his chair. “I knew I was right to pick you.” He admitted. “We’re going to be the best of friends. You want that don’t you?”

I saw her gulp, swallowing the true answer before saying. “Yes. Of course. Thank you.”

“So tell me about yourself, Ella.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.” He paused, catching his breath in all the excitement. “I’ve never had a best friend before. I want to know everything.”

“You’ve never…” she began to question the incredulity of the admission but caught herself. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh.” There could be no hiding the disappointment in his voice. “Do you want me to go first, then?”

She nodded, grateful for the reprieve.

“I’ve lived in Muni One most of my life, but recently got reassigned here. I don’t really miss it there much. I didn’t have any friends or anyone.” His voice drifted off and the uncomfortable pause quickly became unbearably long.

“What about your mom?” Ella asked finally.

“What?” It was as though he had been startled and brought back into the present.

“Was your mom there?”

“My mom? She…” he laughed wryly. “She was there. For a while.”

“Did she move?”

“She died.” His voice was cold, disconnected.

“Oh.” Ella crossed her legs in front of her on the floor. “I’m sorry.” She studied him then. I don’t know if it was the awkward silence that refilled the room, or if she had somehow found compassion for a man who had just bought her as though she weren’t human, but something compelled her to trudge on for clearly, she was stronger than I. “My mom died too.” Her confession was barely loud enough to be picked up by the camera, but her demon heard it.

He tilted his head as he studied her. “How?”

I saw the confusion, the hesitation ripple across her face, but she kept them at bay. After all, she had to be honest. “She belonged the Opposition.”

“The Opposition?” he tested the words before I saw his ears pick up from behind, indicative of a massive smile. “The Opposition.” He spoke with much more confidence as he repeated the words.

{Sorry for the interruption, but Orders received. I will resume as soon as possible.}

 

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 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 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.