In the waning days of the Fourth Era when the Federation was beset all around by enemies, it was inevitable that the creation of a harsh training ground to produce a military elite would take place. Unfortunately, according to history and recently unearthed documents, the creation of this "military planet" did not occur until too late in the final wave of rebellions that ended the Federation and the Fourth Era. Fortunately, the rebels were unaware of the existance of such a planet and it remained hidden for many years, untouched by the new Human Confederation, utterly unaware of the existence of an outside world, and waiting for the few hints they had of a power called "Gun".
--Arcturus Ledger
Urbs Plagiarius: Scandal of the Federation
Dat-pad 1
FD (Federation Date): 03.14.3498
UPY (Urbs Plagiarius Year): 01.01.0007
I don't know why I'm writing this. Gun, I don't even know who I am or what I'm doing. My teamates all call me Sigma, my callsign. Of course, when we talk about our previous lives, hiding in the Warren, running from the sweep parties, I can't talk about it. I don't remember any of that. For as long as I can remember, I have lived on the Surface. I know no other life other than that of Team 2221.
The smoke is slowly rising from the ruins of the Comm Center. T-steel, melted and twisted into grotesque forms lies all around. The groans of the wounded and the dying are just loud enough for the audio-receps of my helmet to pick up. The sounds are music to my ears.
To a Warrener, this may sound like a sick statement, but it's truth. Every one of us on 2221 and any other team know that hearing the groans of the wounded and the dying tells a man that he's still alive. And if the team you just beat the Warren-slime out of doesn't mount a quick counterraid, you have a pretty good chance of survival.
Medics are moving through the ruins, shifting aside pieces of rubble, looking for any of ours that were caught beneath the debris. Tar did an excellent job placing the p-charge. He'll probably be named DemoComm now. We only have about five minutes. Our scouts are reporting a Team 2232 CStrike team forming up about 5 km to our east. Any 2232s the medics find they kill. The only good enemy is a dead enemy.
My job is to supervise the pull-out. So far, the medics report 2 dead and 1 wounded. That's our best raid this year. Perhaps 2221 will be able to gain some extra territory. That would be nice. Our supplies are running low and the Comms are getting anxious. Gun take them all. The medics are done searching. It's time to pull out. Already, I can hear the soft sounds of 2232's delta-wings. We can't see anything through the urban sprawl of the Surface, but we look anyway.
FD: 03.14.3498
UPY: 01.01.0007
We made it back to the base safely. We even had enough time to plant a little surprise for 2232. We were about 2 km away when the p-charge went off. We could see the bright green flash of an exploding delta-wing, even through three layers of the city.
Bonn was our one dead. He'll be broken down into his constituents for later reassembly. Tyk is recovering in the medcenter already. He took a plaz to the left shoulder. He's lucky the charge didn't overload him. That would be a nasty way to die.
My cell is on Level 2-. The only furnishings are a small, hard cot, a few pegs for clothes, and the stand that holds my battle-armor. The armor is about two inches larger than me in all dimensions for the added T-steel plating. The helmet fits snugly so that the environment seal is not breached. My weapons are hung around it on various hooks and attachments. No Warrener would understand, but this armor is my life.
When 2221 makes a raid through the streets, our armor keeps us safe from most shots. Unless you're unlucky enough to step on a p-charge or get sniped. According to the map on SupComm Gry's desk, 2221 controls 0.1% of the streets. He tells us that the city is called Urbs Plagiarius. I'm not sure what that means and neither does he. He claims that the city spreads all over the planet. I could believe it. To me, it seems that the city never ends. SupComm says that we are here as punishment for a crime. I don't know what crime though. I've never committed a crime. Among the greenest of our conscripted Warreners, they say that at the very center of the city, where all four quadrants meet, is a great building built of shiny T-steel where the answers to where we came from, what Urbs Plagiarius is, and why we are here are. I wouldn't mind trying to find this building.
The lights just flickered. That means A-team is lights out. I hope 2232 doesn't raid us while I'm asleep. We left our calling card, so they know it was us. Sleeping through a raid is scary.
* * *
The planet was divided into four quadrants and the inhabitants were given basic assembly equipment and military training. Both men and women were chosen to live in the city that completely covered the planet. They were divided into teams with a strict, military organization and antagonism between the teams was encouraged. Satisfied that the basic parameters had been met, the Federation "handlers" retreated from the planet surface, leaving behind their codename "Gun" and an array of questions from the inhabitants. The plan was to return in five years to "collect" the leaders of the teams and assimilate them into the Federation army structure. But the handlers did not return.
--Arcturus Ledger
Urbs Plagiarius: Scandal of the Federation
FD: 03.18.3498
UPY: 01.05.0007
SupComm Gry has decided to sweep the Warren for new recruits. 2234's been getting some rather feisty fighters from their section so we'll be making a covert sweep. As such, SupComm Gry ordered me and several other "rovers" along to act as scouts and rearguards. Running into 2234 in their Warren section would be disastrous. Several of the teams might band together and crush us. We'll have to be very careful.
The 20 man team is ready to descend into the Warren. We'll have to navigate from within the Warren because it's too dangerous to hunt down 2234's portal. SupComm Gry has given the signal--time to go.
FD: 03.19.3498
UPY: 01.06.0007
Something went horribly wrong. We had just crossed into 2234's section when someone opened fire on us. Two of us were hit and killed outright. Desparately, we tried to return to the Surface, but our portal had sealed shut! Then another group opened fire on us from behind. SupComm Gry ordered us to separate and try to find another portal back to the Surface.
I took off down a sloping passage with two other rovers, Tyk and Rag. We were soon clear of the fighting, but none of us had map modules loaded into our battlearmor. We haven't seen anyone since we split up, about 20 hours ago. Wait a minute. I hear a noise. Gun! How did they find us here? Tyk! Rag!
(Here the dat-pad switches to video record.)
Three figures in full battlearmor jump up from they are crouching next to a strut. Five other figures in half battlearmor have appeared at the other end of the corridor. They run forward, crouching low and spraying plaz charges at every other step. One of the original figures is hit in the face and his helmet disintegrates. Another is hit in the arm and his battlearmor is now scorched. The two remaining figures run off in the opposite direction, firing parting shots. One of the half suited figures takes a direct hit and seems to glow for a brief second before falling over as if rigor mortis has already set in. The remaining two figures of the original three are running down a corridor that slopes deeper into the ground--
(Here the entry breaks off abruptly.)
This might be better: '...step on a p-charge or get picked off from a long gunner(or long rifle, or even sniper if you must
