This Is Africa

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This Is Africa

Post  NumberN9ne on June 14th 2011, 7:55 pm

Monrovia, Liberia.

July 30th, 2003. 11:34 PM.


Mortars hit the city, shaking buildings. Crumbling buildings. Putting the Liberian armed forces on edge, putting the civilians on edge. It wasn't just this, it was everything. The whole civil war. A group of ten Liberian soldiers stood guard outside of their commander's makeshift office on the east side of the city, jumpy and paranoid. Ready to run if a mortar, grenade, or bullets came towards them. It was obvious that their hearts weren't into the fight. "This is hell." One of them said, "I'm about ready to just... go. Do you think they'll really look for us if we desert? They'll just think we'll dead." Another told his fellow soldiers, "Like I said, this is hell."

"This?" A voice said, belonging to a man who came creeping up from behind the group, "This isn't hell. It's close. It'll prepare you. But this right now? Standing guard is not and will never be hell." The man, a tall dark-skin Liberian man dressed in a Liberian army uniform. His left eye was dead, it had turned a pale grey as opposed to the light brown of his right. Across his eye was a thick scar, it seemed to have been inflicted by a blade. A knife, something used by soldiers. Special forces or something of the sort. "Let me tell you a story. It doesn't start off as all that special until I get to the part where I got my little scratch." He said, pointing to his eye with a chuckle. "It all started last year when I was first sent here to Monrovia."

Monrovia, Liberia.

June 24th, 2002. 6:47 PM.


The Anti-Terror Unit was involved with looting, killing, things of that sort. They were and are a bunch of thugs. Even soldiers like you all were doing it. It was disgusting. Some civilians tried to fight back, but they were killed quickly and easily. I remember my unit responding to shots fired and ended up running into the Anti-Terrorist Unit as they were raiding a home. They killed the father of the house for trying to fight them off, they were going to kill everyone else in the house. I had to speak up. "What the hell are you doing?!" I yelled, grabbing their commanding officer by his collar and pinning him to a wall. "Get your hands off of me." He said to me, a few of his soldiers grabbing me and throwing me to the floor. "These people are helping the rebels, they must be killed or detained. So, that's what I'm doing." The commanding officer, Sergeant Johnson, I remember his name, said to me. "You boys need to get up and get out right now. Don't make us arrest you."

We weren't going to leave at first, but the rifles that were eventually raised to our faces changed our minds. "Okay." I said, gesturing for my men to follow me out as I stood. Once I reached the doorway one of the people in the house, a young man, spoke up. "If you leave us The Ripper will see you as being just as bad as them." He said loudly, "The Ripper is coming. The Ripper is here. The Ripper leaves no survivors. Do something to earn The Ripper's favor. Don't leave us here."

I didn't pay much mind to this Ripper thing, but it did feel wrong to leave them. I knew they were going to be killed or arrested for nothing. But I still left. I cut my losses. It wasn't maybe two minutes later when I heard the young man yelling out curses, the sound of an assault rifle silencing him quickly. I felt horrible for what I did. No, for what I didn't do.

Time went on. I kept thinking about it while standing guard with my unit, the Anti-Terrorist Unit coming to join us later. Obviously they were there to make sure we would take bribes and keep our mouths shut. I wasn't going to. I had no intention to. "Take this. This is a... gift." Johnson said to me, holding out a small stack of hundred dollar bills. "No." I said, "That's blood money." I told him, "This is all blood money! The money keeping your uniform looking nice. The money paying for your home. The money that buys the food to feed your family. You're a soldier. Don't act like you're better than me and mine." Johnson obviously felt disrespected, pulling me along away from the group to talk to me. Talk being used loosely. All he did was threaten me. But this was short-lived. The sounds of guns going off behind us took our attention away.

A few of our soldiers dropped, but there was nothing and no one. "What just happened?" I asked, "Someone just shot at us!" A soldier said, pointing to the dead. "Sniper?" Johnson asked, "I'm not sur--..." The soldier was cut off by a blade entering his neck, dropping his gun to grab his neck in hopes of stopping or slowing the bleeding. "Shit!" We all scattered, eyes searching for enemies.

We couldn't find anyone. The sun was going down, it was getting darker so that made it harder for us. More gunshots from around us. We watched as more dropped into it was just Johnson, me, and his second. "Up here." Johnson said, pointing to a home. We charged in, luckily it was empty. "Upstairs." I said, gesturing to the steps that led up to the second story of the small home.

"With the high ground we'll at least be able to hold them off." I told Johnson, like him and the others I just thought we were caught off guard by rebels. Probably former soldiers that defected, it was the only way to explain why they were able to kill the others so easily. "There has to be a light in here." Johnson said, his second feeling the walls until he found a switch. "Got it!" He said, flipping it up. The sudden burst of light revealing a light-skin woman dressed in black paramilitary gear, "Oh shit!" These were the last words the other soldier said to us before the woman grabbed his throat, forcing him to a woman and flinging him out.

"Shoot this bitch!" Johnson said to me, both of us unloading towards the woman. She was quick though. She grabbed a piece of glass and threw it at me, stabbing me in my hand and causing me to drop my weapon before she dived from the window. "We need to get her." Johnson said, moving to the window. Leaning out. Almost as soon as he did I heard the sound of a gun, it wasn't his. It was this woman's, she pulled him from the window and let him fall. Climbing back in to finish me off. I didn't know what to do. I panicked.

I was so scared. Confused. I started to pull the glass from my hand as she got closer, she pulled her knife. She was either ready for me to attack or she was sure I wasn't going to be able to fight at all and was taking her time. Playing with me. I managed to get the glass from my hand, lunging at the woman. It was all a blur but I could feel it cut her as much as I could feel her blade dig into my face. My eye. The blood was blinding me the more it built up and got into my other eye, but I saw her holding her face, she was angry. I thought she was going to kill me.

"Up there. I hear something." A voice shouted from outside, more soldiers were coming. I could hear them all. A large group. "Fuck." The woman said, "You live today, soldier." She said, moving towards the window. She cast a final glance to me before climbing out. Leaving me to be saved. She doesn't know that Johnson survived too. He was born with his heart on the right side. A birth defect saved his life.

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Re: This Is Africa

Post  NumberN9ne on June 14th 2011, 7:55 pm

Monrovia, Liberia.

July 30th, 2003. 11:56 PM.


"What happened after that? Who was the woman?" A soldier asked the man telling the story. "I talked to some locals, they said it was The Ripper. The Ripper is a woman, which I didn't expect. The locals didn't either when I told them. They said that she'd be back for me and those who survived, those who continue to do bad. I've decided that I'm going to America. I'm going to seek asylum there away from the war." The man said to the other soldiers, "You may not think it was that bad. But there is something about knowing that single woman can kill several groups of highly trained soldiers by herself. That she's done it so many times and you were next? That's... hell. Feeling powerless."

The Washes, San Paro.

Present day. March 6th. 10:22 PM.


"Alright. The cargo is in." A warehouse supervisor said loudly so that the other workers could hear as a few large trucks entered the warehouse. "Take the keys and put them up in my office so that we know where they are." The supervisor said to the drivers, "Taylor!" He then yelled, looking towards a dark-skin man, one with a dull grey eye. "Oversee this, okay? It's my daughter's birthday today and I need to go." The supervisor told Taylor, "You can count on me." Taylor responded, "Good. Your accent is horrible, by the way. You need to get better at English." The supervisor said in jest, "It's funny, I can speak your language better than you people from Gresty." Taylor responded with a laugh.

"Have a good one." Taylor said as the other man walked away, opening the back of a truck and climbing inside to see how large the boxes were. "Everybody get down!" Shots were fired in the warehouse, Taylor glanced outside of the truck. Catching sight of several members of the Blood Roses, "Give us the keys to the trucks and it'll all be okay." The shot caller said loudly, "Now!" He yelled, "I'm about to kill someone if I don--..."

"Wait!" Taylor climbed out of the truck, "I'll give you the keys. Just let everyone go." He said, gesturing towards the supervisor's office up on the second level. "Someone get the keys." The people on the floor looked around, thankful that Taylor showed up. "Got 'em!" A Blood Rose member shouted, holding up the keys to the trucks. "Good. Everyone can stand."

"Thank you." Taylor said, smiling at the people as they stood. He was relieved. "You didn't have to let us go, but you did. That says a lot about you." Taylor told the armed men and women. "I never said we would." The Blood Roses then opened fire, shooting down everyone. Some tried to run but they didn't make it far. Taylor could feel the burn of bullets hitting his body and then he could feel the cold concrete. "Job well done, Blood Roses!"

Taylor laid there, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't hear any more guns going off. The Enforcers were probably never going to show up in time. The warehouse was rather isolated and with everything else going on in the city it made living through this ordeal even more of a long shot. "Who the hell are you?" Taylor heard someone say, the sounds of more gunshots prompting him to close his eyes.

The shots ceased after about a minute, he opened his eyes to see a woman standing over him. "It's you." He said, smiling a little. "Yeah. You won't live, you know that? I can't get you to a hospital in time but the CSA is on their way." The woman told him, "Johnson lives. I ran into him the other day." Taylor said weakly to the woman, "He's with the Praetorians. He lies to them. He's trying to pretend he isn't an evil man. Tell me that you'll get him for us."

"I promise you I will." The Ripper said, drawing her knife from it's place as she would kneel down next to Taylor. "Why did you come here? This is not Africa." Taylor asked, "I made a promise to someone." She responded, "It's a long story. You won't live long enough to hear the good part." It was with these words that the woman would plunge her knife into the man's body, digging it between his ribs to his heart to make his death as quick as possible.

The sound of sirens approaching caused the woman to stand, "Got here a little too late." She muttered, running off from the warehouse as quickly as possible. Not wanting to be there when the CSA showed up.

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