The Greenhorn Diary, A Tom Clancy's The Division Fan Narrative

[HelkernBerkut]

I've seen the interest people had over Solomon's profile and I decided I'd redact a little something for you. I love to write and make stories, I hope you enjoy this much more than I do! To not break the flow of the thread (I'll update this thread with more writing) I'd like you to send me feedback privately if possible or at least just upvote/downvote the posts. It would be very appreciated to know what you think. Without further ado, here's the first post, it's short, but it'll be updated, I promise!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I finally found my diary. Didn't think of checking the front pocket of my backpack. Well, go figure.

It's happening. The watch lit up and I'm being transported to NYC as I'm writing this with a pen that's almost out of ink. It all happened so fast... Funny that I'm currently hitching a ride to the outskirts of the city instead of using my car. It broke down last week, though it's the least of my problems right now.

The woman transporting me is my neighbour, Sharla Winston. Apparently her brother is staying in Brooklyn, they were talking about getting him out of there and bring him to her house, to wait it out. I highly doubt they'd let a potential carrier out of the island but she's stubborn. It reminds me of Christine in some way. How she'd never let go of an opportunity, whatever it was. I'll probably be stuck in there for more than a month so I won't be able to go visit her. Told the girls to talk to her through prayers, mama won't answer, but she'll listen. She always does. God I'm gonna miss them. At least they know what to do now. My little girls, almost full grown women. They're smart and brave, they'll figure this out.

For a new diary this isn't too bad. I'm looking forward to write more in here. Of course, they'll most probably find out about this and burn it as soon as the epidemic is over and everything goes back to normal but to hell with it, it feels nice to write my thoughts. In some way, this book is the only one who can truly hear what I have to say. That's what I like so much about diaries. Anyway.

I don't know if the people at the Division will provide the weapons themselves, so just to be sure, I brought my own stuff. The hunting rifle should be enough, fortunately Dad isn't here anymore, else he'd be pretty disappointing of the use I'll make of his gun. It barely works anymore. Should get around to clean it, at least, once I'm there.

We just passed a military checkpoint. This really is serious, isn't it? I showed the man my watch and they let us through immediately, without any questions. Sharla asked a few question, I managed to let her know that I literally cannot tell her anything. At least she doesn't press on it. I'm getting tired. I'll make another entry once I'm there and briefed. This should be one hell of a Christmas.

In case I don't make it back home and someone is reading this, I won't stop you. I mean I'm most probably dead, so what can I do, right? My name is Solomon Hayes, and I am a Division agent. The logs recorded in here will be about my expeditions in the streets of New York, trying to save what remains. Enjoy reading what I wrote, I guess.

 

[HelkernBerkut]

Is it okay if I don't put in the dates? I guess no one will mind. I finally made it to New York. This place is an absolute mess. Sharla was pretty upset that only I and a couple of people were allowed through the lockdown. I guess they're here for the same reasons as I. Helicopters are flying in and out, people are littering the streets, fighting over cans and digging through garbage. Crying and so confused. So scared. I guess this is what post American Disasters look like. I met Faye Lau, another agent from The Division. She runs things around the base, apparently survived a tough explosion, looks pretty messed up but she's a young tough nut. She's got a lot of hope for this place and more determination than I've ever seen in anyone so far. She inspires me, in some way. Once this whole thing blows over I'll invite her to some Kerman Coffee. She'd deserve it. I can't imagine how it feels to have so much on your shoulders.

I've had some help to tinker on my rifle, got it repaired and it's now in mint condition. They've got everything here and no shortage of people to help. I guess the help of every agents, including mine will be more than crucial to this operation. My first mission is to patrol around Hells Kitchen, clear out some bandits that caused a lot of ruckus lately. I hate how casual it is to them, killing people. Even if it is for better causes, I'd hate to have to hurt someone. I guess I'll have to take my time to take clean, efficient shots. It's gonna be hard but I'm sure I'll make it out. I'm here for a reason, after all. I'm leaving in the afternoon. Apparently I'll have another agent with me. Don't know who it is just yet.

Someone's calling me over. I'll write more later.

[I'm doing something here. Since we don't know who the agent Solomon is meeting is yet, I propose that anyone who sends me their agent profile will be presented in the next Diary entry. I'm not doing anything super detailed so I welcome anyone. Please send me the profile via private message. I'll just pick the profile I like the best.]

 

[HelkernBerkut]

I actually lost you, goddamnit. You were hiding under a table in the situation room. I got a little bit freaked out on our way back here. Anyway. Here's how it went down.

I met the other agent, his name is Joseph. Another marksman, just like me, though much younger and still has some stuff to learn. Training can only do so much for you sometimes. I managed to find an old electronic voicebox from the Supply Line counter. It even came with a hands free module that goes with it, I can hide it with my scarf and people think I'm a robot. My first few words in months surprised everybody, if only I could have taken pictures of some of the faces they made, it was priceless! Anyway, I digress.

Me and Joseph got along pretty well, taught him a few things that we don't learn in the Military. I won't press too much on that though. This pen only has so much ink. Hey, there's some lo-hi hip hop playing on the radio. Man, that stuff calms me down. Anyway.

We've had lots of time to discuss about many things, Joseph and I. Where we come from, our family and friends, what we used to do before being here. It's nice to still have some human contact even in such a shithole. It makes you feel like nothing is lost yet, there is still a chance you can wake up one morning and someone will tap you on your shoulder and whisper "It's over. We can finally go home". Simple chit chat like this gives you some sort of hope. If only we had more time to talk and not simply be too busy to carry guns around and shoot people. I hate shooting people. I actually got bruises from holding my rifle too tight. Moving my fingers around hurts. If only we had the time to get it checked out. Fuck this place.

We've had to handle a bunch of rioters, the hard way. I've met other agents, some of them so eager to go "kick some ass". I don't understand those people. They're American folk, for fuck's sake. They're human. Some of these idiots don't understand that all this aggressivity is caused by fear. Sure, some of them are just there to cause trouble, but the majority of the people we face are scared, in distress. They want to get away just as much as we do. They want to live and they're sick of being pushed around. Sometimes I'm glad I'm unable to speak freely. They'd know what I think.

You see, the people of New York.... ah shit, I'm running out of ink. I'll keep going once I find a new pen. Shouldn't be hard to find.