Well I had this on my computer for months and was questioing if I should put it up. That being said I have no idea why I am putting it up other than to do something. This really does try and hit emotional while trying to keep in line with the whole secret soldier thing. That said expect confusing wording at times.
I do not know how much I should say. I do not know how much I should write. These captors of mine, they hide me well. I will only address myself as Jefferson. According to the people I work for, I was killed as a child at the age of five. I have been here for three weeks, or at least that's what the date on my watch says. It feels like an eternity since I felt the sun on my skin. There is some magical thing emitting a low amount of light. I can barely see my writing. I am writing with a needle, and I'm using my blood for ink. I don't know why there was paper in here, but I'm using it. The only time I see my captors is when they give me a cup of water and what appears to be a sardine, at seventeen hundred sharp, then they take me to receive "enhanced interrogation" as I am supposed to call it. It takes them twenty seconds to go from the far end of the hall to the cell door. It takes me eighteen steps ahead; five steps right, one flight of stairs, and thirty steps forward to reach the torture room.
My skin is now a pale black, like a thin layer of milk is coating its surface, though whether that is from the lack of sun, the poor lighting, or the lack of food I am not sure. I have lost all my muscle, and I most likely look like I was a zombie. While I can not tell my whole story for fear secret information may fall into the wrong hands, I can say how I got here, in this cell, in this unknown building.
Project: Witch Virus (classified)
Location: Iran-Afghanistan border.
A man I will address only as Patton ordered me to hold position before he and the rest of my team ran elsewhere. I went into a prone position. I set up my SR22 sniper rifle. I looked at the shed that my team was sent to investigate. I saw one guard, dressed in a black robe, with a mask that I could not identify. Our contact had said a group of people known as death eaters wanted to purchase Bio-weapons. There was no way for my team to go near the shed, there was no cover. I slipped a silencer on my rifle. I was easily four hundred yards away from the guard. My team was hiding behind a hill, waiting for me to drop the guard. The fact that there was nothing there for me to gauge the wind made this shot all the harder. I checked my rounds to make sure they weren't tracers; I didn't want to make that mistake again. I centered the crosshairs of my scope on the guard. There seemed to be no wind, his robes didn't move at all. I aimed for his upper torso. I waited a second; thankful I couldn't see his face. I tapped the trigger. A tiny cough came out of my rifle. The guard dropped. I motioned to my teammates. They ran towards the door. My radio crackled to life.
"Team, we have a fix on the shipment. If you can send anyone down to the road about half a click west of you, you should be able to stop the shipment from reaching it destination." My Employer, who shall remain anonymous, said. I knew the other five in my team wouldn't hear the transmission, Patton had ordered comms blackout for everyone but me. I knew that my services wouldn't be required here.
Location: Unknown cell
I must hide this tiny book and await my meager meal. I must wait for them to question me again. They give me this green liquid, it makes me almost tell the truth. But something stops me from doing it. Perhaps I do tell them the truth. They ask me for my name, I say I have none, they ask me where I'm from, I reason that since I don't exist I don't belong anywhere. Then they ask me who I work for, I tell them I don't exist. They are baffled by my answers. I take small pleasure in infuriating them, it is the only pleasure I have. I hear the footsteps coming; I know they will stun me with their wands. I must hide this. Though I find it strange they are early.
They are quite surprised I have held out as long as I have. They hit me with a spell that is truly painful; all I can remember is that it starts with a C. For once they threatened me with death, and I also was able to see the owner of the establishment, and found that they are not happy with my condition. They bring up someone they refer to as "the dark lord" often. I assume this refers to a man named Voldemort, either that or else there is someone to take his place. I would prefer the former over the latter. I know he was killed by a shot to the chest from a bullet made of several frozen liquids, though from what we know the wizards associate his death to that of a person named Harry Potter. There are several large sounds coming from upstairs. I estimate I have thirty seconds before I am killed by my captors to keep me quiet. I applaud anyone who finds this record.
The aurors were cleaning the latest death eater hideout, the Malfoy Manor. The owners of the estate had been threatened into making magically binding oaths to tell no one on pain of death. Whatever spooked Lucius into revealing the death eaters was bad enough to make him willing to kill himself. A young auror with a lightning shaped scar remembered with a shudder the last time he had been here. How he had been taken first by the death eaters, then the muggles, then the death eaters again. His final imprisonment was in Malfoy Manor, where with the help of a free house elf he and several others escaped. In the room he was once in, there was a body with a head that had been taken off by a blasting curse. Hidden in a large crevasse was a small piece of paper. The famous auror was shocked by what he read.
Hey I never said it was good, and left it intentionally incomplete to keep the realism that, this person feels like they have to tell their story, but they don't have the time, and they have to keep some things secret. (I.E. refering to the military as a mercenary like employer), while somehow showing that it does indeed fit into the Harry Potter story line, even if it is by only a little bit.
On a seperate note, International Police will be updated by this Wednesday, as an unforseen set of school projects has forced me to delay everything by a week.
signed the good dr.