MAG Backstories Chapter one

RAVEN LOGS:
Prelude to the Shadow War
Lance Corporal Adam "Cool Bean" Ackerman…

Black Ops Corp Beta Squad…

Status: Mid-Mission…

Enabling first person narration…

…………………

"Are you sure you're okay Bean? You look a bit out of it today, maybe you got a cold, or worse, maybe you have T-virus… muuuhhhh…."

"I'm not a zombie Goggles! And this isn't Resident Evil… jeez, you'd think you would have grown up by now!"

"I know you still haven't, joining the corps as early as you did, I'm surprised you lived this long."

"Lay off you two! This mission is as important as your worthless lives put together!"

"Yes sir."

"Aye aye, cap'n!"

I seriously had the urge to smack him across the face right there. But what he said is true; I joined the corps two years early at the age of 16, abandoning my country and my life. I was part of something important now though-a private military corporation called Raven. A military corps with the latest technology, the best training, and possibly the greatest strength. I was born in 2006, I joined up in 2022, I had lost my mother during the 2015 riots, and my father not long after.

The riots started when the world governments announced that the planet was running out of resources, the changes would have to be drastic. Two days later, people became greedy, killing others for resources. To the point where murders had become more numerous than heart attacks, the population dipped down to 4.5 billion, from almost 7.8 billion, and that's when the earth's carrying capacity leveled out. Resources weren't as scarce, and the riots ended. My mother had died to protect me, defending herself with a machete to hold back hungry neighbors. She didn't last ten minutes but I made it out with my father and twelve cans of food, two 2L bottles of water and some bars of processed dried food.

My father's death was just as honorable, many people had cannibalized during the riots and like they say… "Old habits die hard." My father had killed two of the "stalkers" as they were called and then he was overwhelmed by three more. I had watched in horror, but was safe after they had left. I mourned their deaths for months after, finding no one to love, to hold, to share my pain.

Then PMCs became more and more advertised, I thought why not and faked my age, they knew I was 16 I found out later though. They said I was adept with my skills for wielding a weapon, and even more, using it without hesitation. So they slipped my name into the Black Ops selection exams. Next thing you know I'm doing missions with people that used to be fugitives and contract killers, but that didn't show at first, but then again, I supposed they wanted it not too.

"Sir, may I ask something?" I asked.

"Yeah, go ahead Corporal."

I smiled at this, being called a corporal, even though I was one rank below it, it felt good. "Why exactly are we doing this? I mean, taking out an OIC for a PMC is a little overkill."

"We don't ask questions like that soldier."

"Let me rephrase that a little. I mean, we are a PMC and so are they, but this could make S.V.E.R. mad, they might even think it's Valor or a smaller PMC, we could start a war!"

"Then no one will find out, it will be a "Shadow" war."

"I don't like the way that rolls off the tongue."

"Ignore it for now, this is what was bound to happen, you could say it might have been planned."

"That's what I was worried you would say."

"Eh! Shut your traps!" A commanding officer demanded on the radio. "That kind of question puts you on death row. I don't want to lose you guys, you're the best we've got."

"Sorry, K1A." I replied, as calmly as I could.

"Now focus on the mission, I just feel something bad is going to happen."