Hatred
Omake: Hatred
Isaac had been taught to hate GDI.
For GDI feasted while those in the Yellow Zones starved.
They had arrived at the agreed point. The containers were there, filled with food, medicines, clean water. He saw the eagle emblazoned on the side of every one. They began emptying them, transferring the supplies within to the lorries they had arrived in. All GDI insignia would of course be removed before the supplies were handed out to the surrounding villages, a sign of the Warlord's generosity.
For GDI didn't know the fear of a life spent in the Yellow, where every breath might be the one that infects your lungs.
Isaac looked down at the new envirosuit. It was comfortable, durable. It would take some effort to properly emblazon it in the colours of the Brotherhood without effecting the seals but it would be worth it. He'd read the manual that came with them, written in dozens more languages than he knew. Easy to clean, long lasting filters, tough materials. It made the old Tib War 2 era mask he'd been using previously look painfully inadequate. They had an entire crate of the things, after it had 'fallen off a truck' while they were handed out to the refugees gathered in the makeshift shanty towns.
For GDI lived isolated from the masses of humanity, living lives of comfort while everyone else was forced to scrabble for scraps.
He stepped out in front of the man, arm outstretched. The family before him was exhausted, had walked for many miles with all their remaining belongings on their backs. They had hoped to flee, to find a life where they could walk out in the open without a mask, a life where they had been promised eggs and fish, a life where they didn't need to worry about petty conflicts between warlords and the ever shifting Tiberium fields. His job was to prevent that. Healthy adults of working age and children were not allowed to leave, the sick and elderly could pass. Let GDI use its resources on those with nothing to give back.
For GDI interfered with the plans of Kane. The god amongst men, the prophet of Tiberium, whose plans would lead them to a glorious victory.
The remnants of his squad sheltered behind a shattered Scorpion as he watched the Predator's machine gun open up again, cutting down several of the faithful as they desperately rushed forward. He saw a courageous brother leap from cover with an RPG, a prayer on his lips as he fired it directly towards the side armour. It made half the distance before the laser burned it from the sky. The orders that had made it through the jamming were confused. Attack. Retreat. Resist. The training area where they had prepared for a glorious attack on the Blue Zones was naught but a smoking wreck, littered with corpses. He gestured to his men. They would fade into the desert, survive to tomorrow, pray for a change. Their prayers were not answered.
For GDI hated NOD, the kind of hate that must be returned in kind lest you be swept away.
He watched the battlefield from his hiding spot, the few of his people that had survived tucked away out of sight, resting. There were still brothers and sisters crying, screaming for help but he hardened his heart to them out of need. Maybe that night he would be able to aid those that still survived, creeping out under the relative safety of the darkness. He saw GDI personnel in lighter armour than the others approach a brother and he tensed up, expecting a gunshot. Instead he watched them pull out something from a pack. A bandage? One stayed with the first brother while another approached a second, this one conscious and he swore under his breath as he knew what would come next. He could hear the cry to Kane from where he was, cut off as it was by the grenade that left parts of two corpses lying on the ground. He blinked the tears away.
Isaac had been taught to hate GDI. He was just no longer sure why.
Isaac had been taught to hate GDI.
For GDI feasted while those in the Yellow Zones starved.
They had arrived at the agreed point. The containers were there, filled with food, medicines, clean water. He saw the eagle emblazoned on the side of every one. They began emptying them, transferring the supplies within to the lorries they had arrived in. All GDI insignia would of course be removed before the supplies were handed out to the surrounding villages, a sign of the Warlord's generosity.
For GDI didn't know the fear of a life spent in the Yellow, where every breath might be the one that infects your lungs.
Isaac looked down at the new envirosuit. It was comfortable, durable. It would take some effort to properly emblazon it in the colours of the Brotherhood without effecting the seals but it would be worth it. He'd read the manual that came with them, written in dozens more languages than he knew. Easy to clean, long lasting filters, tough materials. It made the old Tib War 2 era mask he'd been using previously look painfully inadequate. They had an entire crate of the things, after it had 'fallen off a truck' while they were handed out to the refugees gathered in the makeshift shanty towns.
For GDI lived isolated from the masses of humanity, living lives of comfort while everyone else was forced to scrabble for scraps.
He stepped out in front of the man, arm outstretched. The family before him was exhausted, had walked for many miles with all their remaining belongings on their backs. They had hoped to flee, to find a life where they could walk out in the open without a mask, a life where they had been promised eggs and fish, a life where they didn't need to worry about petty conflicts between warlords and the ever shifting Tiberium fields. His job was to prevent that. Healthy adults of working age and children were not allowed to leave, the sick and elderly could pass. Let GDI use its resources on those with nothing to give back.
For GDI interfered with the plans of Kane. The god amongst men, the prophet of Tiberium, whose plans would lead them to a glorious victory.
The remnants of his squad sheltered behind a shattered Scorpion as he watched the Predator's machine gun open up again, cutting down several of the faithful as they desperately rushed forward. He saw a courageous brother leap from cover with an RPG, a prayer on his lips as he fired it directly towards the side armour. It made half the distance before the laser burned it from the sky. The orders that had made it through the jamming were confused. Attack. Retreat. Resist. The training area where they had prepared for a glorious attack on the Blue Zones was naught but a smoking wreck, littered with corpses. He gestured to his men. They would fade into the desert, survive to tomorrow, pray for a change. Their prayers were not answered.
For GDI hated NOD, the kind of hate that must be returned in kind lest you be swept away.
He watched the battlefield from his hiding spot, the few of his people that had survived tucked away out of sight, resting. There were still brothers and sisters crying, screaming for help but he hardened his heart to them out of need. Maybe that night he would be able to aid those that still survived, creeping out under the relative safety of the darkness. He saw GDI personnel in lighter armour than the others approach a brother and he tensed up, expecting a gunshot. Instead he watched them pull out something from a pack. A bandage? One stayed with the first brother while another approached a second, this one conscious and he swore under his breath as he knew what would come next. He could hear the cry to Kane from where he was, cut off as it was by the grenade that left parts of two corpses lying on the ground. He blinked the tears away.
Isaac had been taught to hate GDI. He was just no longer sure why.
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