[ ...Oh, the thing that looks like a giant bean. That makes sense. In its own stupid way. The stupidness of it is strangely comforting. Chyler climbs into it, starts to draw her knees up toward her chest, and forces herself instead to sit as straight as a person can in a beanbag chair.
She takes a breath. Presses her lips together, suddenly not sure where to start. She didn't tell Marco much, really. The only person she's told much to is Alexander Pierce, and she's had moments where she questions her own sense in doing it. ( She was new, scared, shocky, and he was there and he was kind. )
Even he didn't get everything. ]
They were teaching us to fight Insurrectionists, at Corbulo. Human enemies, human targets. [ She bites her lip. She's not sure that's the place to start, but it's the only one that seems remotely close. ] I had no problem with that. I hate Insurrectionists. When we lived on Mamore--
[ Chyler closes her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. ] My parents were stationed on Mamore because of an Insurrectionist attack that killed two million people and injured eight million more. Innies used a commercial nuclear explosive, the kind miners use on asteroids, and planted it in a truck full of scrap metal that they drove to the middle of an arcology. They murdered two million people and never thought about the nuclear fallout and the generations it would effect. When I was ten, they bombed my cousin's school. A school, with children. That's what Insurrectionists are. They're monsters.
[ That word. Chyler stops again. ] My brother died in a suicide bombing when I was thirteen. My parents were KIA not long after that. I was ready to kill Innies. From the moment I got to Corbulo, I was ready and willing.
[ She shifts on the chair, tucking her legs up underneath her so she'll stop feeling the urge to curl into a ball. ] That's--that's what we were there for. To learn to fight and kill human targets.
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Date: 2018-03-04 06:32 am (UTC)[ ...Oh, the thing that looks like a giant bean. That makes sense. In its own stupid way. The stupidness of it is strangely comforting. Chyler climbs into it, starts to draw her knees up toward her chest, and forces herself instead to sit as straight as a person can in a beanbag chair.
She takes a breath. Presses her lips together, suddenly not sure where to start. She didn't tell Marco much, really. The only person she's told much to is Alexander Pierce, and she's had moments where she questions her own sense in doing it. ( She was new, scared, shocky, and he was there and he was kind. )
Even he didn't get everything. ]
They were teaching us to fight Insurrectionists, at Corbulo. Human enemies, human targets. [ She bites her lip. She's not sure that's the place to start, but it's the only one that seems remotely close. ] I had no problem with that. I hate Insurrectionists. When we lived on Mamore--
[ Chyler closes her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. ] My parents were stationed on Mamore because of an Insurrectionist attack that killed two million people and injured eight million more. Innies used a commercial nuclear explosive, the kind miners use on asteroids, and planted it in a truck full of scrap metal that they drove to the middle of an arcology. They murdered two million people and never thought about the nuclear fallout and the generations it would effect. When I was ten, they bombed my cousin's school. A school, with children. That's what Insurrectionists are. They're monsters.
[ That word. Chyler stops again. ] My brother died in a suicide bombing when I was thirteen. My parents were KIA not long after that. I was ready to kill Innies. From the moment I got to Corbulo, I was ready and willing.
[ She shifts on the chair, tucking her legs up underneath her so she'll stop feeling the urge to curl into a ball. ] That's--that's what we were there for. To learn to fight and kill human targets.