504th Tornado Regiment

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Sgt Exterminio
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From Sergeant C. Montgomery to his regiment, dated 20. September 2000.

Farewell to paradise. I'm every day this corpse that disappears under a torrent of drool, agonizing noises, and distillations of a disease that suffocates the monster in my soul lost to this world and God. My life today is a ransacked fortress, the viscous, stinking substance emanating from the corpse of my great dream of power. I survive like a slug in this disgusting moisture, and everything rushes to cover me with derision so that I no longer aspire to those igneous fulgurations, where the chosen ones have forged their exterminating greatness, the epic of the sun, the splendor of imperial acts, the shuddering of the heavens. To avenge this crumb of ignominy to which I have been condemned, I will exercise terror, spread the plague, I'll radiate my disease to all winds from the false throne of my kingdom. Even more, I will dictate a decree: I, Chuck Montgomery, Tyrant of the World, sentence myself and all of you to the capital punishment of spending my life in front of the walking dead, writing the word of terror with letters of blood on the walls of this earthly scaffold, forever and ever and ever.

The origins of the collapse, for some people, were in the laboratories of the Asian peninsula, for others, it was in the black market of Lebanon. The truth is that now the world is ruled by the living dead.

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MACBETH, ACT 1. SCENE 3.
There are only two kinds of people, those who are brothers and those who are not.

HANDOUT FOR PROSPECTIVE TORNADO MEMBERS.


The oldest member of the surviving regiment, Hugh Albert (The Old Nazi) Fullager, did not attend the reunion at Angel Pine's farm that night. He remained at home, too ill with cancer to make the hour-and-a-half trip, oblivious to the impending betrayal of the men and principles the veteran held dear. That same night the thunderous sounds of gunfire rang through the air of the makeshift camp at Angel Pine.

Once upon a time (not too many years ago) existed a camp as reliable as it was sinister and dark in the small town of Angel Pine, but in one of its sleepless nights, it was attacked by the unbridled ferocity of treachery: Acts in profusion of good faith ceased in a blood message at the hands of degenerate and mentally deranged military men who ended the lives of every living - or dead - being in the camp.

bedfordfalls
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Good luck!
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GalloEnjoyer
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Sgt Torture
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Sgt Torture
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Sgt Exterminio
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From Sergeant C. Montgomery to his platoon mate A. Winterstine, dated 10. July 2019.

Platoon comrade, don't believe anymore in the sweet mercy of Christ.

Executioners are unsatiated and cruel. That's why they abuse our patience and our faith.

Answer slaps with slaps, death with death, and don't pay with your life but with your right to live. Turn terror, if necessary, into an ethic of salvation. Don't conquer your kingdom with prayers, but with violence, because with the violence, the Caesars have subjugated us, and the Caesars are today all those who dominate the world with atomic reasons. Their thrones are raised on tombs, brutality, and infinite power of destruction. With our strength, we have pushed 'em to the throne, but they have betrayed us, they have captured our dignity and courage.

Comrade, don't cheat yourself or play the game of innocence any longer. You're only immortal to the extent that you're alive; your every act makes you responsible for earth and heaven. In a certain sense, you're a God, because your freedom is sovereign and gives you the right to choose the earth in the image and likeness of the divine evil of your dreams. Don't forget it mate, and ascend.

Our message is one of death, we will be tender as executioners. From this cataclysm only the living will be resurrected.

Our deluge is of hatred.
We will not forgive.
We are soldiers of the sun, and the light awaits us.


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grandchild
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King Presto
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Sgt Torture
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