Dead... and Back is a survival horror Role Playing Game. The Anarchy Zones is its official setting - aliens, reanimates, and the ruins of 2055 America.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Cauterize: Scarborough

Voice One: Never have so many owed so much to so few...
Voice Two: You better stop pretending we're still fighting the Germans and focus on the task at hand...
Voice One: Its been a hundred ten years - they might be getting complacent. Gotta keep 'em on their toes.
Voice Two: If that gets you through this.
Voice One: It doesn't. God - look at my hands. If it weren't for the computer we'd be in Newcastle by now.
Voice Two: Can I offer you a cigarette?
Voice One: Where did you get those? They're absolutely devil for your health and you can't smoke in the aircraft anyway.
Voice Two: Its only bad for your health if you plan of being alive after this.
Voice One: They give us all butane lighters for some reason... Got enough for everyone?
Voice Two: Standard Pack, Four apiece.
Voice One: Pass one over
(Loud coughing)
Voice Two: And yet that's probably only the tenth worse thing about today.

Voice Three: Way point three in Five. Four Three ... Mark! Beginning turn. New heading achieved.125 kilometers until Initial Point for toss release.
Voice Two: Confirmed. One Five Mikes until IP Releasing switches, begin final arming process.
Voice Four: Switch one, Green, Switch Two, Green Switch Three, Green Switch Four... no light.
Voice Two: Say again:
Voice Four: No go on circuits fou- correction, its green. All clear for One-seven-five K-T air burst. 
Voice Two: All systems go and acknowledged.  
Voice Three:  They train you well - you sounded worried when the arming didn't go smooth. 
Voice Four: Yeah. They do. I've got a grandmother down there.
Voice Three: Used to visit as a boy in the summer. There was this great little candy shop just down the road from the bed and breakfast Da always rented.
Voice Four: Vickers - would you - uh - recite the lords prayer with me? I know you don't... and I respect that. But you - if I can get an atheist to pray, then at least something will seem right about this day.
Voice Four: Sure. If I'm wrong, its insurance, if not, what does it matter?
Two Voices: Our Father in Heaven, hallowed ...
Voice One:What would have happened if we hadn't made that turn?
Voice Two:We launched fifty bombers, despite there being only thirty five targets. Each plane has four bombs and lord knows you don't need more than one per city. If all but nine of the planes give up, the job still gets done. Credit where its due, they planned for at least some of us saying no - and knew we wouldn't. We wouldn't die knowing we forced our mates to do more than their share of the work.
Voice One: For King and Country.
Voice Two: For King and Country.
Voice Two: Altitude is now one thousand meters. Thirty kilometers to to IP. Target in sight.
Voice One: If you're going to hand it over to the computer, now is the time.
Voice Two: Did a computer decide to do this? We don't have the AI to let machines make values judgments about saving some people by turning bomber command loose within our own borders. A man chose this, a man will see it through.
Voice One: Very poetic. Stupid - but poetic.
Voice Two: while I'm going though the checklist, see if you can find The Letter.
Voice One: What?
Voice Two: You've heard the stories. Each Bomber submarine or aircraft is issued a personal letter from the PM to be opened only in case of all out war to confirm the orders. Its burned the day they leave office, to make way for one written by their replacement.
Voice One: Given the events in London I don't think we were issued a new one after the things got the last one.
Voice Two: Of course. Switching to Radar Mode Three...
Voice Two: Confirm Release, turning away
Voice Three: Ordinance confirmed telemetry
Voice One: Altitude zero six five zero zero meters.
Voice Two: Ten Seconds
Voice One: Brace! Brace! Brace!
(Loud Bang, rattling, static)

Voice One: Well, we're all sons of bitches now.

-Excerpts from Recovered Black Box #9007564, - The Days of Fire Exhibit, The Imperial War Museum, London.

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