Man, this week has just been shit. First, my fucking commanding officer calls me in the middle of a friday night telling me I’m gonna be pulling shift for the weekend, and then my pay gets delayed a week more due to our leuteniant using quarters funds to fuel his whisky addiction. Then, the fucking city council voted on going green on energy, even though solar panels for this city would have to use more than half of the available space just to fuel our commerce. And to top it all off? Some fucking shit happened. Contact to Brasília has been lost, total power outage, internet went out in the middle of a match of frifas, and I see glowing lights from the hills around the city. I still don’t know how the fuck the favela guys haven’t lit up a bus or a couple of wheels. At least I have this diary. And a flask full of ‘51. >be me >early ‘20s, lost count of my age already >got conscripted two years into the local military zone in my city, sent into a ‘motorized regiment’ >fucking b0noro ruining my late nights out >there’s not even jeeps for everyone here, the CO has the most decent one. >currently stationed in Belo Horizonte, my beautiful home city >or, what it was two days ago. Fires started spreading around the outskirts of the city yesterday, a few hours after internet cut out >the scouts spread around the city talk about seeing ghosts, and mystical beings walking on the streets. >Lieutenant's already going mad with all the crazy people he sent out as forward observers. >the police is all mobilized in the favelas, trying to pacify the ‘unrest’ there >it’s probably the fucking aviõezinhos again, those guys never quit being a pain in the ass for everyone >the job of maintaining peace has been put onto the shoulders of 4th RM and it's down chain units >exactly the hellhole i’m forced to be in “SOLDADO ANÃO!” 5/2/eu esqueci a data caralho 01:00 BRT >that’s sarge calling >probably one of the only cool people around here >made friends with him since day 1, and he’s pulled me out of some tough shit >I get up from my bunk, making ready >sarge turns around the corner on the corridors, and enters the almost-empty room >I’m the only person in the bunk room, everyone else already got assignments >”SENHOR!” >pull a salute haphazardly “Chill out, anon. You finally got a job to do.” >stop saluting, readying my gear >”Finally. Guess the Tenente finally remembered my name?” “Not really, he just said ‘get that fucking anão guy you keep talking about’” >”Classic. What’s the job?” “You’re not gonna like it. Rodrigo spilled some fucking coffee all over the leuteniant’s office. You’re gonna be the one cleaning up” >"Reeeeally? Rodrigo out of all people?” “Mhm. Ever since he got assigned to the kitchen he’s slipping down.” >”Canalha. It’s all good, tell him i’ll be there shortly” >sarge nods, saluting and leaving the room >around here, all the cleaning work is rustic at best. >all the shiny new toys were sent to 12th Mountain Division, and that includes brooms and mops. >we have to clean everything up with the buttstocks of our rifles, usually taping clothing on the end to not stain the old rubber. >I got ‘unlucky’ for those kinds of jobs, my service rifle being an M964A1, otherwise known as paraFAL >shorter stock, lighter weight, smaller barrel >a recipe for a great rifle, but a shitty broom. >I put on my vest, ruck and grab my rifle >everything’s packed in, Tenente oriented us to always keep all our items near us since the start of this bullshit >scour around the bunk, trying to see if anyone left any clothes behind >HAHA, Rodrigo left behind his uniform. >guess he won’t mind if I borrow it >i grab the uniform, and wrap it around the buttstock of the rifle >time to rise and shine, mr floorman. >walk out of the bunk room, going up the stairs to the second floor >i’m inside the main command building of 4th RM, that controls anything military in the area >of course, only the most insane and completely incompetent officers get here to fill out paperwork and relay orders to High in brasília >and the random foot soldier, that was trained for combat has to bring them coffee and cans of pitú >I got ‘lucky’, and got assigned to the communications teams >that means, less officers that don’t have shit to do and more annoying technicians that can’t keep stuff in their pants >seriously. Rodrigo can’t keep it to himself. >arrive at the door of the lieutenant's office >knock twice "Who 's there?” >”Anon. Gonna clean the coffee.” “About time, anon? Damn, I need to remember your name.” >”Generic, innit?” “Yeah, i’ve seen at least three in my lifetime. Come in.” >open the door to the office >the tenente has a very good wood-floored office inside of the HQ >nicely treated canadian oak with 100 year marks >’sadly’ tainted by many coffee stains >he’s sitting in his desk, looking out the window of the office outside to the city >i get to wiping the floor with the improvised mop >”Sir, do you know what’s going on outside?” “I have as much idea as you do, a… a…” >”Anon.” “Yes, anon. We lost comms with High earlier today, we can only hope for the best.” >”Did you hear about the reports from the scouts?” “About the crazy shit? Yeah, I've heard them more than any one of you. I don’t know if they’re mentally ill or some brutal shit happened.” >shots start popping off in the distance “You see that, anon? That’s the local PM. The useless bitch of a mayor cut their funding in the worst time possible, and now? We gotta do their job.” >”So how are you planning to do that?” “I’ve already mobilized 12th’s active contingent and reserves. Should be 800 men for the job, and the useless people in this place.” >”Sounds great.” >i finish wiping the floor, without many complaints from the lieutenant >the wood, once a marvelous reflective brown is… more brown. >an uncaring eye would say it’s just the wood’s treatment making it more beautiful, but a wood appreciator would notice someone didn’t care enough. >”Think that’s good, sir?” “Yep, as good as we can do it without mops. Actually, a...anon, i’ll give you something in return for your good service.” >”Really? Sir, that’s not needed.” “It’s on me, soldier. Get over here” >i step over to his desk, and he opens up one of the drawers “Cuban or mexican?” >”Uh… what?” >he pulls out two boxes of full-blown cigars “I got these a while back, and I'm not a big smoker. You’ve helped me far more times than I can both remember you and your name, so this is the least I can do. Pick one.” >damn shawty >i open the cuban box, and take one of the cigars out >the tenente sighs, and practically shoves the rest of the box onto my hands “Yours. Other one’s going to sarge. Go enjoy some time, I’ll have a new assignment for you shortly, and it hopefully won’t include coffee. >i close the box, and place it in my vest’s back satchel >”Yes sir!” >I walk away, and slowly close the door when leaving “You can close it faster, it’s not gold!” >”Gotcha.” >in the corridor, I remove the coffee-stained uniform from the stock >the rubber padding on the end of the rifle is wet >fuck >I check for the obvious, and smell the end of my rifle >smells of… >coffee. >fuck >it’s gonna stay stained like that isn’t it? >end up getting to my bunk after the coffee-smelling disappointment >drop rodrigo’s clothes on top of his bunk, fuck his non-waterproof uniform ass >go sit on top of my bunk, luckily I got one of the lower ones near the windows >the outside is pitch black, the once glooming city with bright lights now reduced to a never-ending shadow >the only lights are from the gunfire near the favelas, the twinks at the PM are sure doing a great job. >the 4th RM is stationed right beside a main highway, with great view to the ci- >wait, what’s that… >i swear i’m seeing some eyes… >grab my flashlight, and turn it on >there’s a pair of reflections… >no wait, it’s two pair- >oh god there’s more >fuck >run upstairs with my gear still on gear >to the door of the tenente >”Sir, there’s something outside down the road south!” >audibly hear him groan and get up from his chair “You crazy too, anon? God damn…” >he opens his door, inviting me in >through the beautifully placed window in his office, there’s perfect sighline on the road >I shine the flashlight at the end of the lit road, and start sweeping for what i saw downstairs >the lieutenant is by my side, grinning as if I was crazy >shit, there they are! >the weak light reflects off of one thing’s eyes, looking directly at us >“THERE! See it?” “Holy shit… they weren’t crazy at a-” >something screeches, and a horde of humanoid-shaped things come out of the darkness into the light “HOLY SHIT!” >the lieutenant kicks his desk, and alarm sounding immediately after “TODOS OS SOLDADOS, POSIÇÕES DE BATALHA! ESTAMOS SOB ATAQUE!” >what was once a semi-quiet base turns into a loud mess of creams, gunfire and shouting “Anon, get to Sarge. I’m going to try and contact 12th, you’re under him now” >”Yes sir!” >run out of the lieutenant's office, bounding downstairs >knowing sarge, he probably would be in the middle of it all >reaching the first floor, I see sarge shouting at a recruit “06 CARALHO! CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING EVEN REMOTELY USEFUL HERE? IF IT WASN’T LITERALLY THE APOCALYPSE I WOULD HAVE YOU COURT MARTIALED AND SHOT! NOW, GO DOWN THERE AND FIGHT FOR FUCK’S SAKES!” ‘Y-yes sir…’ >the recruit runs off outside the headquarters >”Sarge, lieutenant's trying to reach 12th right now. He sent me to you.” “That’s great, but there’s a problem with that: 12th’s unresponsive. I already tried contacting them earlier today, but no word came back.” >”Well, that’s just great isn’t it. Need me to do anything?” “Now that you said that, yeah I need you to do something. Get to 12th’s headquarters up north and tell them to get on frequency 60.9, and ask for reinforcements.” >”Yes, sir.” >i quickly write down the frequency, and run to the armory >for that, i’ll need more than an extra mag on me >Getting to the armory, I see the classic brutalism of the room, being just cut in half by a big metal desk with chained metal surrounding a gate for passing items. >The walls are made of concrete, with some cheap-ass bathroom ceramic tiles covering the soldier ‘area’. >Behind the desk, I see the familiar shape of Sérgio, the quartermaster, packing some mags behind the desk. >Sérgio is a great dude, sometimes lacking in the emotional and charismatic department, but makes up in being a general great guy >”Hey, Sérgio, How’s it going?” “Boy, there isn’t time for greetings, we can reserve that for later. What do you need?” >”Straight to the point today aren’t we? Well, I need some extra mags for the FAL. I forgot to pack my vest up since last Sunday's training.” >”Of course, boy. But I'm afraid you’re gonna need more than that, miguxo.” >Sérgio looks around for anyone watching, and opens the item gate, placing a small wooden box on the desk and 5 more mags for the FAL, fully loaded. “Take these and run, don’t let anyone see them boy. You’re gonna need more than bullets to be safe out there.” >Thanks, Sérgio. Stay safe, and God be with you.” “You too, son.” >without even opening the box, I shove everything down the compartments of my vest and dart out of there >I take the corridors leading up to the northern exit, probably the most quiet and safe out there. >The military zone was designed with two primary exits, the northern one leading up to a small residential road, and the eastern one that is probably full of beasts. >making it out of the headquarters building, I see a bunch of recruits surrounding one of the famous ‘statues’ inside the military zone >around a small paved roundabout, there’s a M41 bulldog in the middle, perfectly parked on top a perfectly sized concrete slab “06! PUT THIS FUCKING RUST BUCKET TO WORK, GOD DAMN IT!” ‘I-I’M TRYING, SIR!’ “ON YOUR ENLISTMENT PAPERS YOU PUT THAT YOU WERE A DAMN MECHANIC, NOW PUT THOSE SKILLS TO WORK AND MAKE THIS START!” >that’s sarge screaming >sounds like they’re trying to put the baby to work, after all these years >poor 06, man’s too stupid to be here >darting past them, I arrive at the northern gate >there’s a sentry, clearly very on edge, manning the systems to open the gate “What’s your business here? You should be defending the other gate, and not scurrying away like a damn rat.” >”Rats are over there, on the other gate. I'm here to deliver a message to 12th’s headquarters. Lemme through.” “The 12th? Last I know they had spread out to try and defend the city, but I guess word didn’t make it to the lieutenant. I’ll let you through, just be careful.” >”Will do, thanks.” >he presses a button, and the gates open just enough for me to squeeze through >guess the man’s taking his job seriously >manage to squeeze through the hole in the gate, and it closes shortly after >now it’s me, God, and my FAL. 5/2/?? 02:00 >Hmm, the 12th’s headquarters should be to the north up a kilometer away >God bless the designers of this city, for they did all the military buildings very close-together >the gloomy, yellow lighting of the city isn’t to be praised for, though >if all the architecture and city planning are to be circlejerked for, the public lighting isn’t good, to say the least >it’s a low, yellow lamp probably from the 80’s, that doesn't even cover 5 meters without needing another post set up >but it works, and that’s what matters in this country. >going up a few blocks north, I end up across from the Burger King near our headquarters >all the officers like to go there for a quick ‘hippie’ shake that the staff makes exclusively for them, and only God knows what they put in there >fast food is expensive for the average brazilian, and a single 100R$ meal cost- or, used to cost, around a tenth of an average worker’s salary. >used to, because right now they’re out of business indefinitely >the lighting is flickering inside, windows are cloudy from what can only be hoped to be blood, and some bright orange lights inside looking at me. >wait, what? >the light flickers once more, and a human silhouette is briefly illuminated before fading away >shit, situation’s worse than I imagined >hope I don’t get to meet that later down the line >i keep going, the 12th’s headquarters should be a bit away now >reaching a crossing on one of the main highways, everything seems… weird. >usually, even this late at night, there’s a lot of cars driving around >today, though, there aren’t any cars >tall buildings surround the large road, with rooms inside lit and silhouettes looking outside behind curtains >fuck, I need to cross before I attract that much attention >I stay there, mustering up courage to make the dash >i’m under one of those bars that place themselves on a street’s corner >it’s pretty hidden, not being illuminated >I look around, trying to see if anything is coming through the highway >nothing, still no cars >fuck man, what’s going on… *CRACK* >oh shit >something stepped on glass >i turn around, to face the road I came through >the same pair of orange lights from the burger king are peeking around one of the corners >those aren’t lights, those are… >eyes? >... >oh shit there’s more >fuck I need to g- >they’re moving >OH GOD >i fucking leg out of the shadows into the highway *PHUNK* >FUCK! >something just passed by my head- >there’s a flaming arrow stuck in the middle of the road >jesus! >that's it. >i turn around, still trying to get across to the other side of the highway >shouldering my FAL, i try to train my sights on one of the eyes >right on the money >I depress the trigger once, a powerful shockwave running through my arms *BANG!* >my ears are ringing, but there’s a loud scream on the dark side of the road >FUCKING GOT ‘EM- >it’s sounds like a human >oh shit. >making it across, I immediately take a left turn >fuck man, what was that? >i swear it sounded like a woman screeching >man, leuteniant’s going to have a fucking aneurysm trying to believing this >my gunshot erupts a firefight a few blocks away >guess i’m not the only one being harassed then >making it to the end of the road, I can distinctively see 12th’s outer walls >thank god, they’re here >there’s a man in one of the gates, guarding the entrance to the zone with his rifle at ready “STOP THERE! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” >i’m still too far away for him to recognize my uniform >”I’M FROM THE 4th RM, THEY’RE GETTING LIT UP UP THERE” “WHAT’S YOUR RANK AND NAME, DUMBASS.” >”ANON, SOLDIER” “Fucking hell, get over here! Shit’s bad.” >i rush to the gate, a less-alert face greeting me “I’m José, but my name doesn't matter.” “The battalion command and most of the contingent spread out in the city, i’m the only guy left here” >”Wait, what? Even the officers fucking legged it?” “Yeah man, a bunch of cowards if I saw some. Was it you that fired the shot back there?” >”Yeah, I'm getting stalked by a bunch of things.” “What were you even going to do here? isn’t 4th undermanned?” >”I was supposed to request reinforcements to defend the HQ, but I guess there’s none here.” “Yeah, but there’s still some stuff people left behind” >”Like what?” “Check it for yourself. Armory’s the biggest building to the left.” >i nod, and pass through the gate >around me are beautifully lit buildings, with an old colonial vibe to them >brazilian military bases have always been something to admire, at least the infantry ones. >command structures get all the modernist bullshit, or plain concrete offices >man, these infantry guys are lucky. >... >I just realized what I thought. >there’s a big building, to the left of the gate as the guy at the gate said >big, bold letters ‘12o Regimento de Infantaria’ >beautiful building, the green and white paint job being ‘expertly’ done by ‘volunteers’ >and recently, too. It smells like artificial paint-like products even from here >I enter the building, with most of the lights turned off except a very convenient path leading up a corridor >The floor is made of old, but still very well-maintained wood. Kind of similar to tenente’s office, but worse in every single way. >each step I take makes those ominous horrible wood creaking noises, though >instinctively, I follow the lit path, until there’s a set of stairs leading to an underground area >I slowly go down the stairs, shouldering my rifle in the process >the stairs open up to a room, pitch black >there’s dead silence around, broken by my careful steps >reaching into one of my side pouches, I grab my flashlight and turn it on >holy shit… >it’s an entire underground dump, built in stone like colonial structures >i scan around with the flashlights, not finding anything other than boxes and other room furniture >I pass through the entrance, instinctively hitting a light switch with my hand >the room lights up, and I shoulder my rifle >time to get some goods >the floor is made of hand-carved stone, like the walls. Stone stacked ontop other stones, held together by mud and bamboo fibers woven in between >I take the small opportunity, and open the small box the quartermaster gave me >I didn’t bring my backpack, so each little inch of space counts. >holy shit, what the fuck... >inside the small box are two hand grenades, a smoke and a flashbang. >but crammed on the underside, there’s a fucking ENERGA rifle grenade >HOW THE FUCK DID HE PACK THIS IN? >and why did he think i’d use an anti-tank grenade? >... God, Sérgio is a great dude. >I need to find a few items in this depot >namely, a few blanks >scrounging around some cardboard and open wood boxes, I see one that isn’t open >the inscriptions on the side are degraded, but the interior seems packed full of goodies >i give it a small shake, and the distinct sound of metal rattling gets my hopes up >grabbing my helmet, I give the lock a good whack and it opens easily >opening the crate, I expect at least some quality weapons or atleast- >... >DAMN IT IT’S FUCKING PITÚ. >there’s cans upon cans of cheap sugar cane liquor stacked ontop of eachother >AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA >IT’S NOT EVEN QUALITY CACHAÇA! >... >there’s at least more crates. 5/2/?? 0300 >Fuck. >I spent around an hour searching this shitty-ass place just to realize it’s the base’s booze storage area >... damn colonial aesthetics. >I go up the stairs, just to realize the lit path lead to another room, and not the underground >damn it >I head there, and find the room basically ransacked >except for a small satchel, probably for carrying grenades >well, that works. >... >you know what? >since I spent an hour looking through some booze, why not take some?