// WIP

2/11/25

I still don't believe I'm alive and she's not.

It's been a year and my mind's been occupied by constant drills, constant gunshots, constant yelling, but in the night when all of the recruits are sent to bed with force I don't sleep, I haven't slept in god knows how long. I just stare, staring into the only thing I have left of her, not a toy, not a picture. A hat. My wonderful and incredible daughter, the last thing I held onto for dear life was ripped out of my hands by a force so far beyond my comprehension I still don't fully wrap my head around it, and the only thing I have to remember her by is a baseball cap, sometimes I wear it, but it just don't feel right.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3/31/25

Apparently my training's done, I finished my drills, my lessons on Sarkicism, Anomalous containment and proper operating procedures, all that's left is to wait for an open position... Whatever that means. God I hope it comes soon, rotting in a Reserve facility with only the thoughts of her crack my brain more and more with every day that passes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4/16/25

Apparently some Nu-7 PFC, Emilio Antonio... or was it Santos...? Anyways he's dead, I can finally stretch my legs and maybe take my mind off of Peachie. Who am I kidding.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4/30/25

Finally, We're taking the fight to those bloated Sarkic sons of bitches, For the Foundation, For Peachie!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

???

I saw him. Names have power, and I know yours, Vo'lok, You son of a Bitch. I'll see you around.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Current Log