Outside Buusar, Somalia
The scorched and barren hills fly by amid the dust devils; lurching among detonated landmines along this stretch of broken road. Where we are going is still not clear to me and each time I ask I only get a response of “Opsec” from the ragtag passengers or from Xtra Squishy in the driver’s seat. The heavily modified Toyota Tacoma we are traveling in looks more like a Mad Max-spiked monstrosity than a car. The one meter rusty spikes, Xtra Squishy assured me, are part of the current meta when it comes to desert warfare. How the bright pink streaks along the sides and the rebar steel cat whiskers poking out of the bull bars are supposed to benefit the vehicle in a war zone is still a mystery to me.
“Gotta get those buffs during the fleet”, he mutters while stroking a spike near the steering wheel. When I was tasked with this interview I thought this was some elaborate holiday the CSM hopeful had planned. The hours passed. I thought of my pick up at the Kenyan border, having narrowly avoided an Army Patrol and a Eurofighter Jet looking for an easy target. I started to have doubts about my Eve Onion insurance coverage.
Later, under the cover of darkness, we enter a shattered settlement. Xtra, as he has requested I refer to him, calls out to the darkness: “Fleets up, everyone get in!”. Lights wink into existence from among the broken buildings; the roar of engines and people rushing about breaks the still desert air.
Xtra, no longer content with his exploits and shenanigans in the MMORPG EVE Online, has moved to “IRL” getting his fix of action and excitement there, but is still very keen to run for the Council of Stellar Management (CSM) for some reason. Leaked reports from NATO and the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) military forces indicate an increasingly erratic behaviour of rebel and revolutionary groups in the Horn of Africa following Xtra’s extracurricular activities outside of EVE Online.
Strange assaults on military convoys with the sole purpose of attracting aerial support have increased, all attacking vehicles are usually destroyed but the goal of destroying supply convoys seems to be the goal. Swarms of smaller nimble vehicles strip the shells clean of intact supplies before disappearing into the wilderness. NATO has moved to make sure lower volumes of valuable goods are moved at any one time, as this seems to be an effective deterrent to the raids, so far. Troops on the ground always report a spike laden vehicle on the horizon during the supply raids. OAU troops have dubbed Xtra’s war machine “Bisad Xun“ aka the Bad Cat.
The morning after arrival, Xtra wakes me with a wide toothy grin as he spills a little G-Fuel over my tattered mattress in excitement. “Ready to break the rules?” His mad eyes stare through my soul before he turns and scuttles off to his makeshift command centre, with me scrambling to catch up. The sun was still struggling below the horizon. The morning was not quite here yet.
“Gentlemen!” bellows Xtra to the assembled troops all sporting a variety of anime t-shirts and hello kitty decal’ed AK-47s. Everyone was ecstatic; the atmosphere in the room was narcotic. “NATO and the local troops will never know what hit them”, as he widens his hands to capture the room. “If you only had one shot…one opportunity…to seize everything, would you let it slip by?!”. He stares into the eyes of each soldier in turn before meeting mine last. Somewhere from entering the room and now, an AK-47 made its way into my hands and I don’t remember it being handed to me. I was now part of this whether I liked it or not. Everyone rushed out of the room to their war machines. It was time. A passing soldier handed me a tin of spare ammunition, a large faded hammer and sickle logo stamped on the side. “Faction ammo” commented the soldier. The Tacoma has been refitted overnight, the spikes had been removed and there is now some kind of bright pink tank machine gun on the top.go
A short while later, a rolling armoured beast of a school bus streaked down the road towards a military base. Jets, tanks, and APCs sat quietly in their parking spots. The guards hadn’t noticed what was coming for them. The bus was layered with armor plates and ballistic plastic, guaranteed to survive a few direct missile hits and that was just the start of its purpose. Finally, a guard noticed the beast streaking along the road, sirens blared and the base struggled into action. Such a daring assault was not expected.
Xtra gazed down the road, with me at his side. He smiled just as the bus hit the first checkpoint, crushing the barricades like toothpicks before crashing into a parked tank toppling it over and then veering into a jet. Soldiers poured automatic weapons fire over the beast, barely denting the armoured plates. A few moments later, a magnesium flare burst out of the roof lighting up the base in a white washed glow capturing everyone’s attention.
It was time.
“The cynos up! Get in! Get in! Get the links up!” screamed Xtra slamming the accelerator and turning on his sound system to blare True Survivor to motivate the troops. An entire battalion of random cars, trucks, and even a golf cart sporting a v8 engine roared toward the base. The soldiers were so focused on the super tanked bus and failed to realise it was all part of the diversion plan. Another successful “op” commented Xtra later on back at the compound, sitting atop piles of weapons, ammo, and MRE rations like a makeshift throne. His loot from the battle. An erotic male dancer could be seen in the corner carrying on his business to the surrounding troops.
Several weeks later, I was picked up by a NATO convoy near the Djibouti border, the troops eyed me suspiciously as the convoy came to a halt. I couldn’t blame them, as I was sporting a bright pink anime infused t-shirt Xtra’s soldiers wear as a uniform. The only reason I was still standing was the call I made to request a pick up. The OAU was scrambling to regain control in the region behind me, and Xtra was keeping them entertained. To this day, the soul piercing stare of Xtra still wakes me at night sometimes, with the only thing comforting me is mining in EVE Online; its sole numbing elements help calm my spirit.
Xtra, before letting me be on my way, issued me an official mining permit scribbled on a manga cover, for both ingame and out, a show of camaraderie as he put it. Sadly I couldn’t keep the Hello Kitty AK-47, as NATO and the OAU have been covering the tracks of Xtra Squishy. But I managed to get a hold of one from Aliexpress.
I forgot about the CSM he was running for, but in the end, he showed me freedom and friendship, and that was enough for me. “Asteroid Depleted.” beeps my computer.
