CSS v2 Military Conduit

[Seraphim]

[This is a highly sensitive document and should not be released to the general public. Information within is restricted to clearance-level 7+ and should not be tampered with. Original texts preserved where possible, although some passages might be restricted to level 8+ clearance for security reasons.] [True authors unknown; documents marked by codenames and nicknames. Some names are highly sensitive and may be censored.]

One Lost Child (Being the account relating to the departure of [blank] into Old New York)
Needle in a Haystack (Being the documents pertaining to the initial search efforts among the military for [blank])
Godhead (Being the documents relating to the Children of the Sandstorm > Cigarettes' meeting with [blank])
Red Hand, White Stripe, Blood (Being the writings concerning the first military insurgents into Old New York)
Flooded Tunnels (Being the discerning reports of the initial meetings of the Children of the Sandstorm to repel the Military)
Snare in the Bush (Being the documents concerning the attacks on military personnel in Old New York)
One Last Fight (Being the rubbings of texts carved into the wall of a Children of the Sandstorm > Vampires' cell, concerning the last battle between the Children of the Sandstorm and the military.)

[Mina Crow]

[Folder Name: One Lost Child]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: Flight]

Rob helped me out. He was terrified of what would happen, but strangely, I was not. It couldn’t get any worse from what had already happened, right? And I couldn’t stand the camp anymore. I thought I knew dad, but then I realized I had never seen him on his job before New Pork. 268 days – it seems a lifetime. 270 after the Plague, and 268 after we were dispatched here. And 3 days after I left.

Rob got me a pair of shears. The army uses them when they have to break through the fences for some reason, and he thought I’d need them. I hadn’t even thought about them; my brain was a mess at the time. Fortunately, he kept his cool.

It was late night when I sneaked out of the camp. I think a guy saw me, but he thought I was going on patrol or something, and didn’t make a fuss over it. It’s amazing what a uniform can do for your appearance.

It took me over two hours to run and cut through all the fences, from what I reckon; I forgot my watch on my bedside table. The inner fence had white markers all over it, and as soon as I passed through it I heard a shout. Game over, start again.

[Mina Crow]

[Folder Name: Needle in a Haystack]
[Number of Files: 2]

[Filename: Icarus]

We are reporting from Old New York, on the encampment of the 12th Regiment of the US Army. Nine months have passed after the terrorist attacks on the city and the spreading of Black Plague 2.5. The city is still surrounded by five razorwire fences, but there are reports of breaching through the blockages into the quarantine zone. There are no specific news on the children and young adults who have invaded the city, yet some are seen through the cameras the government has installed for surveillance and control. Today we have breaking news from this Regiment - [blank], a Caucasian male aged 16, has fled from the Army camp and, as probability sees it, gone into the city. CNN does not have access to details on the occurrence, but the camp suffers from a visible stir on its usual routine. We have tried to collect some declarations, yet the officers inform they have nothing to say on the subject.

This was CNN breaking news, from Old New York City.

[Filename: Helpline]

The United States Government has agreed that now is the time to begin taking children back out of Old New York, as prominent Command Sergeant Major Frank K. Hagen’s son, [blank] has recently absconded his position in the military garrison outside Old New York and fled into the city. Police are conducting an investigation into [blank]’s reasons for leaving, but Hagen has a clean record and the public are unhappy that such a decorated soldier be accused of child abuse. He was unavailable for comment at this time, but Lt. Hays, head of the investigation maintains that “[they] doubt that there was any foul-play involved.”

The Government insists that none of the children of the sandstorm will be injured in any way if they cooperate, and that the retrieval teams have the children’s best interests at heart. President [blank] is compiling a hand-picked team of soldiers to extract the children and teenagers from the city, and urges parents or caregivers with children inside the city to step forward so that their errant children may be returned to them when they have completed quarantine.

A security helpline has been set up for parents that are concerned about the mental and physical state of their missing children. The phone number is: [blank]. That’s [blank].

[Mina Crow]

[Folder Name: Godhead]
[Number of Files: 2]

[Filename: Camouflage]

Sprouting from nowhere, they were all around me, a torch blazing into my eyes. I could only see dark silhouettes, crowding closer by the second. Someone snarled, and metal glinted in the white light of the torch. I put the riffle down and raised my arms slowly – it would not do to defy them, there were too many of them. Serenity – she is the leader of the Cigarettes, I know it now – ordered the torchlight out of my eyes, and I think I exhaled in relief.

“Name?” a tall boy spat. In the semi-darkness, all I could see was he was garbed in black and had shoulder-length black hair.

“[blank].”

“Tribe?” I had already heard of the tribes in the encampment, and I knew they were four, each with its own leader and such, but that was all. So I kept silent, even if it might not be such a good idea.

“Tribe?” he asked again.

“I’m new here.” I jerked my chin at the shears, now on the ground next to the rifle.

“Runaway”, someone muttered. Did they mean the army? I think they did. Oh well – who cares? After all, I am an escapee.

“Take him in,” said the girl, Serenity. She turned on her heels and faded into the night.

Two of them grabbed my shoulders and pushed me forward. I flinched, but didn’t offer resistance. I was in their city now, and they make the rules. The others trailed behind us, sometimes visible and sometimes barely there; only the white of their facepaint and the glint in their eyes.

[Filename: Thought for the Day]

Serenity, Nine months in New Pork, 15

Accepted another member last night. Cute kid – looks like a soldier, behaves like a mute unless he has a knife at his throat to make him talk. His mouth is a flipping clamshell – we couldn’t get much out of him without actually pulling switchblades and such. But we have a policy of not prying, so we didn’t pry – he’s joined us, and that’s another stripe on the Vampire’s backs, isn’t it now?

Flipping Vampires. One of them traced into our territory a few days ago, almost left Daisuke in need of stitches. We got a few cuts up his arm and a white line into Rhymes Square, but not much more than that. Daisuke’s getting himself patched up by Reason someplace, and Seraphim is boiling in his own juices, seriously aggravated and tempted to make a solo attempt to paint a few more white stripes in Vampire country. Let him do it, I say, teach him to be stubborn.

The Wildcats ain’t angels either – we took one of them out after they put Josef in crutches two weeks ago – might have been a Sunday, but most of our clocks have stopped and we forget to ask Daisuke for the date. Put up a hell of a fight, but the little snot it dead now, white stripes over his face.

There’s the thing – we’re not supposed to have killed him. Four months ago tomorrow, we passed a rule that disallows killing without cause. This means that we’re not to kill the other Tribes, because I don’t want more crimes on our heads if we ever get out of here. Seraphim doesn’t listen; I know for a fact he killed someone not long ago. Seems wrong, somehow, for us to be talking about all this so casually – but what can we do?

Thought for the Day: Every five weeks a child is killed by a parent or caregiver.
Every five weeks, a child is killed by a child.