This is a continuation of [Redacted] report 1 by (that1hugboxer)
You are Lorna , today you met a very interesting individual. An 8ft6 , 750 lbs Native American man going by the name of Joe. Joe is straight forward ,not rude by any means just very much a product of military service. He requests a job on the farms security force. You really don’t have need for another person but Joe is so desperate he’s willing to work in exchange for food and shelter as apposed to money. seeing as how the government and society as a whole have given veterans jack shit for their service .you give him a job. Joe even provides his own arms. Good thing too because nothing you have on hand would fit his.
“That’s one hell of a rifle you have there Joe. What is that even chambered in?”
Joe removes the magazine and the round from the chamber. Joe speaks in a very thick Native American accent.
“ 50-90 sharps.”
Joe hands you the absolutely massive cartridge.
“ I’ve never seen an m16 A1 chambered in any cartridge close to this size. Hell I’ve never seen one chambered in a black powder cartridge.”
You hand the cartridge back to Joe.
“Joe I certainly hope you know how to cast the casings and projectiles yourself because we don’t have those cartridges on hand.”
Joe points to his backpack.
“I have the molds for both. I just need a reloading table , maybe we could work out a deal where in exchange for a regular salary you could purchase the primers and powder? And I’ll melt down the lead and brass myself. From range debris.”
You chuckle.
“Oh we are going to get along just fine. Let me introduce you to the other guys and gals on the security team.”
Of all the people on the security force Joe peeked the interest of Hilda the most.
“So Joe what tribe are you from ? I’m Comanche myself.”
Joe in a booming voice declares.
“I am Fus-hatchee!”
Hilda goes pale .
“Oh. Wow that’s…excuse me for a moment.”
Hilda pulls you aside.
“Whats wrong Hilda?”
“The Fus-hatchee haven’t been seen since before 1832.”
“Are you saying Joe is lying?”
“No he said it with such conviction and pride that there’s no doubt in my mind that he is in fact Fus-hatchee.”
“So what’s wrong then?”
“A member of a tribe that hasn’t been seen for over 190 years just showed up on your doorstep . Something doesn’t sit right with me about this.”
You place your hand on Hilda’s shoulder.
“You think he’s a ghost. don’t you?”
Hilda nods.
You take a deep breath.
“Hilda the man is a veteran .he might have PTSD and this could very well be how he copes.”
The day goes on and you bring Joe into your office to set up payroll… this is where things got complicated.
Joe had no ID , no social security number, no birth certificate, nothing.
“Ok Joe I’m going to need you to explain all of this. Because from where I’m sitting this looks very bad.”
Joe explains that he is in fact a bio-toy made using the DNA of a Fus-hatchee Indian.he explains the laboratories beneath Geiswell acres and how he escaped through a hidden cave in the wilderness.
you look at him skeptical.
“I can prove it .”
Joe rolls up his shirt. Burned into the small of his back is [sons of 64 property of Hasbio.]
You stay quiet for a moment.
Joe looks you in the eyes.
“I have no one else to turn to. At the very least if I can’t stay inside… let me work for scraps to stay alive. I’ll sleep in the fluffy pens if I have to.
You are brought back to when you were a child. Your mother sold you to the cartel in exchange for cocaine. They packed you in a shipping container with other girls like sardines and smuggled you across the border. It took you months to escape the brothel they sent you to.
You could barely speak any English. You survived off of trash and rainwater as you desperately tried to find a way back to Mexico. then one day Mr vanderholt found you trying to drink water from the gardening hose . He took you in and helped you carve out a new life.
“Ok Joe you can stay.but we are going to have to get you some fake ID and documents until we can sort this out.”
“I am forever in your debt!”
Switch perspective
You are injun Joe or as you are now known Joe Klondike, your job is guarding Vicky vanderholt the face of vanderholt farms .she’s not very talkative outside of public relations settings but you don’t mind.
Today she’s having a meeting with Hasegawa Akino head of Hasegawa stables a fluffy breeding organization looking to improve their public image by partnering with a the vanderholt foundation.
Mr Hasegawa is brazen with his vailed demands .
“Miss vanderholt $20,000 for 5 years of partnership is more than adequate compensation for how little we ask of you.”
Vicky is not amused by the blatant disrespect of the offer , but remains level headed.
“Mr Hasegawa please correct me if I’m mistaken but $20,000 divided over 60 months is $333 a month. I understand that we are taken less seriously due to us also being a rescue. I can’t help but feel Hasegawa stables could go higher considering this is a partnership and not a donation.”
Mr Hasegawa smiles.
“Perhaps you are not aware but it is considered a great honor to partner with Hasegawa stables.”
“Unfortunately Mr Hasegawa ,Honor doesn’t put food In my employees mouths or a roof over their heads.”
Mr Hasegawa’s assistant is outraged .
“ A Minnow would do well to accept Scraps in an ocean of sharks.”
Vicky without skipping a beat responds calmly.
“And a shark should be careful in the presence of an orca.”
Mr Hasegawa laughs .
“ I like your fire Ms Vanderholt .”
Vicky negotiates much more acceptable terms and then returns to the farm.
Vicky has an unusual request for you.
“Mr Klondike I need you to guard the fluffy pens tonight. I understand that it’s a bit short notice but I’m willing to provide you with some more amenities in exchange for the inconvenience.”
“Of course Ms Vanderholt.”
Vicky introduces you to the fluffies .
Oddly enough they refer to you as “new fwiend” rather than “nice mistah”
One of the fluffie an olive drab filly is obsessed with you wanting to be with you at all times.
As the night goes on you hear something rustling outside. You go to check on it and find nothing. Throughout the night this happens again and again with the same result.
Then around 3am you hear a very different sound. The low almost inaudible Hum of night vision goggles. You look up to see a humanoid shadowy silhouette crouch walking across the rafters of the barn.it looks at you with glowing green eyes and Without a moments hesitation you fire your rifle. a deafening (BANG!) echos across the farm as the 50 caliber projectile hits the entity directly center mass blowing a baseball sized hole through the target and roof of the barn. The silhouette falls from the rafters with a sickeningly squishy (THUD!)
Vicky accompanied by two security guards enter the barn guns drawn. As they shine their flashlights on the dead intruder’s body it’s revealed to be a woman decked out in Gi Joe themed cobra soldier stealth armor. The smell of burnt plastic hangs heavy in the air surrounding the corpse. One of the security guards removes the helmet to reveal what appears to be Jem from Jem and the holograms. Her makeup and mascara seem to be tattooed on. Her light pink hair is in tightly woven cornrows.
Her whole body is rapidly turning into a plastic like substance. The muscles in her face contort shifting from an expression of pain to that of a smiling doll before freezing entirely. Vicky checks the dog tags [Jerrica Benton] is the only thing written on them. On the ground next to her is a Mambi AMR-1 loaded with explosive rounds. It appears she was making her way to the barns upper window which faces the main house’s second story window AKA Vicky’s bedroom.