We Need Hazard Pay

Dear Diary,

It's been one hell of a couple of months and it feels great to be home. Well, not home, but onboard the Floating Dustbunny.

I need to find out who pulls together these teams for missions, and better yet, who the hell comes up with these half-assed missions in the first place, cause we do not get paid enough for this bullshit!

Whoever decided it was a good idea to send us on a mission where we not only would have no weapons or armor, but no freaking control over anything is a freaking idiot who needs to be spaced! Not to mention searching for some guy out of a million by name only, no visual ID or even what spieces or sex they are. Genious, freaking genious.

Myrrrad had the right idea about going to get a psyche evaluation when we got back. I had to go after what happened.

I've never seen Sara or Squibie so freaked out before. Last thing I recalled was getting a shot off on some dark jedi wannabe, and then him just being right infront of me with this wierd shadowy blade. I tried to block the attack with a blaster riffle, but his blade cut right through. I don't recall feeling any pain right away, but a coldness like all the joy in me had been sucked away, and then a pain so awful words can't describe. I suppose that much pain is a blessing sometimes, because I passed out from it. I just remember as I was going down how pissed I was, and then my sudden worry that he would turn on Sara, who had been right next to me, or to Squibie, who had been the target of his attack before I got a shot off.

I woke up shortly after. Some one had made a mess of the body that used to be the dark jedi wannabe. My first thought on that as Sara helped me to the ship, was that out kitty friend Myrrrad had done it. It wasn't until more recently I found out that between Sara and Squibie they ruined him.

Adrenaline will do funny things to a person too. I was feeling well enough to sit in the gunwell of a ship and turn the ty-fighters chasing us into popcorn. Squibie knows me so well, and figured it would be best to let me get out some of my anger issues on the enemy. I felt like crap when it was all over though, and spent the rest of the ship ride home back in the medical bay. I think that two of our commrades were hurt worse than I was for a while, but I seem to have suffered the most for it. I now have a scar running down from my left clavicle down across my breast to my naval from that damn sword. Thankfully I can hide it if I wear the right shirt, but for the most part it will be pretty noticible, especially if I get dressed up. The wound was deep, but not deep enough to have penetrated my ribcage and do further damage, and it was remarkably clean.

Squibie and Sara have both expressed their concerns. I heard about what they both did when I went down and that worries me too. Will I lose them both because of something I do? I know I shouldn't feel guilty like this, but I can't help it.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License