I noticed that this wasn't already on the forums (even though I could have sworn I already posted it!!!), so this will be posted at the same time as chapter 2, not that anybody cares...
Ford Brody arrives home from a full six months of service in the US Navy. Six months away has gotten him excited to be back with his family.
Ford Brody was an E.O.D. technician in his more recent years of militant service, transporting explosives from one location to another safely, whether they are disposable or are needed in the call of action. Nuclear bombs and missiles tend to be his specialty, to be more precise. Ford is among one of the best in this rating, but his job has risks. He normally is involved with the transportation of explosives in the open ocean, and many of his days on the field nearly ended disastrously.
From time to time, Ford would have the misfortune of getting stuck in various structures, and even the propeller of his own ship. He once had to cut off his cord before he was sucked in to the propeller. He survived by the skin of his teeth, and by the time he reached the surface, he was completely passed out from shock. His unfortunate mishaps were responsible for giving him the nickname "Ford-unate Brody".
Despite this, the sea was his home in the Navy for a countless amount of months, so it was logical for him to be surprised that the last six months of duty took place on land. Not only was his service exclusively terrestrial, but it was various scattered areas bordering the Pacific Ocean. His work mainly took place in the Atlantic and Indian Ocean, and he wasn't even told what the reason was. He wasn't the only one, either. Other highly skilled soldiers in the Explosive Ordnance Disposal field have also been placed in land-based disposal. When he asked what the meaning if this was, he was simply told, "What you are asking is highly classified information. I wouldn't ask unless you were of higher rank."
The change took a lot to get used to, but Ford got used to the change rather quickly. There wasn't much of a difference, beside the fact that he didn't have to risk his life and limb every time he had to retrieve a bomb. If he had to complain, his only gripe would be that the people he works with are no longer the funny, enjoyable friends he had out at sea that called him "Ford-unate". These people were serious, as they should be, but never once did they give a laugh, have anything to laugh about, or anything to say to Brody at all.
At one point, Ford actually overheard them talking while he was sleeping. They were obviously of higher rank, but they seemed to be discussing that he shouldn't even be there. He was able to get in several sentences, but nothing more. "Maybe we should just transfer him back to the harbor so nothing goes wrong?" "Why would anything go wrong unless he goes to the restricted area? We're the only ones in, so if he does manage to get in, he'll be shot before he can even see it!" "If there was anything to worry about, he wouldn't put him on this trek."
Not only was he confused and, somewhat left out, he also was lonely. His family has been awaiting him for such a long time, and this had been among one of his worst services yet. He had relatively substantial conversations with his wife, Ellen Brody, and his son, Samson Brody, in the past, but due to the much more urgent and frequent movement, he had no time to do so. Fortunately for him, he's now less than an hour away from his personal utopia. As the ramp of the C-160begins to open, Ford, as the rest of the soldiers, begin just to wonder how much their kids have changed since they were here, six months before.
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