Chapter 9: A Dank Hole to CAll My Own

	There was a tendril of smoke snaking slowly out of some unseen hole on the side of the hill that housed the base, it snuck around the ground and made its way slowly to the closest watch tower. Once it finished its cross counry trek it finsihed off by sneaking up one of the rusting metal legs of the aged tower. A lone sentry stood guard in the tower, his hands resting on the large machine gun fixed onto the far side of the railing. A nearly finished cigarrette hung limp from his mouth, its smoke being blown from his face by some slight,unfelt breeze. Nothing seemed to be alive, or at least nothing seemed to be moving across the whole grounds but Squall and his excitable guide. 

	"Is this the base?"Squall looked doubtfully at the blank trabian scene. just another clearing, except for he guard tower, but it was so old it looked as if it was left over from some ancient war, it was a simple part of the scene.

	"Fuck yeah!! its kinda dead right now, ther was a fucker of a big bash last night! Holy fucking shit man!Mother fucker!!" Steve exclaimed making vague arm motions, looking as if he would break a sweat at any minute."YOu shoulda fuckin been there man! I mean FUCK!!"He was practically screaming.

	Squall discovered why Zell had always grated on his father's nerves, good god, couldn't he shut up? The man was moving faster now, heading towards an unseen point on the far side of the hill. THe defenses were becoming more apparent to him now. He could see cut out parts of grass, probably where a soldier could jump out or fire from, and every now and then he could spot a cleverly hidden machine gun nest or a fox hole. The bases defense must have been made by a genius, nothing could escape the sight of a careful guard, when he talked to his father next he would have to tell him the setup, They never learned this kind of base management in school, if he ever talked to his father again. Squall wondered if everyone was mad at him, or laughing at him for running off. 

	"Sir!"A serious voice broke him out of his reverie, there was another man standing there, an almost tall man, with short hair and long side burns. His eyes were puffy and red and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks "Are you the new Sargeant? I'm Lt. Noah Magaco, don't laugh that's my real name. I'm second in command here. The captain sent me out here to show you your quarters. I would, but I've got a hangover bigger than your mother, so just walk over there, there should be a door with 4th squad written on it, you're in there and those are your men. But, they're on watch right now. So get your shit stowed and head out." He said with a groggy air of finality, then turned and shut the metal door that they had apparently arrived at with such gusto that small amounts of dirt shook loose and littered across the ground. 

	Scott showed him over to the 4th Squad bunk house, and then jogged off to find some food or something. Squall found the empty sargeant's bunk at the front of the house, and tossed his pack onto it. THe room was long, and musty, everything was covered in dust, not too bad for being a buried shelter, but still dusty, there wer a series of bare lightbulbs screwed into fixtures on the cieling, they caset an orange glow along the length of the room. there were only 5 sets of beds built into the wall, with a small section of the wall devoted to a large closet, whose doors hung ajar revealing a full wall of bottles, intermixed with boxes of shells and the odd pistol or knife just to remind the people they're were in the army. Somebody had scribbled "There'll be no going home again" onto the wall in marker. A cheery place, indeed. The floor was clear, except for the odd bottle, and a few spent rounds, and a rifle. a Soldiers home indeed, Squall thought to himself. He looked over his niched. this was his place of command. He had found his world in a four walled box with some beds and some booze in it. This is where he was going to show everybody that he didn't need to be the son of Squall Leonhart in order to succeed. He straightened his Jacket, arranged his helmet, and headed outside to survey the land.