After Action Review
ATTN: SANCTUARY HEADQUARTERS
CODE: SPC MIXON
//—SECRETSQUIRREL—//
On the morning of 15 FEB 11 Paper Agent “The Godfather” and myself, Paper Agent “Sputnik”, embarked on a secret mission into the North. Bad news had come to Godfather on a bad wind and he made the decision to attend to business in the town of Burlington. The details of his mission were classified. I volunteered to perform the functions of B Driver in Otis “Jitterbug” Jackson (AKA “The Rescue Chopper”) in order to fulfil my obligatory “Hajj” to the Green Door Mecca of my beloved Combat Paper.
As acting commanding officer of the front lines of the Paper Trail the Godfather surpasses the need for safety briefings. I briefed myself continuously. The subject of our conversations are classified.
Two things occurred which endorsed the rightness of our mission:
Scenario One: While driving in rural Vermont I looked across a snowy field at an idealic barn which had a large yellow sign on it which read “ROCK OF AGES”. It was an antique market or some other thing. As soon as my eyes left the barn the CD player changed songs and the very next words to come from the radio were “Rock of Ages”. The Godfather and I both agreed that the coincidence was of a miraculous nature.
Scenario Two: The light hit the van at such an angle as to expose unto the snow a shadow of Otis that was precisely the same general shape as a cartoon drawing of Otis that the Godfather had printed on Combat Paper earlier that week. Again it was agreed that this even was miraculous in nature.
Burlington was to be considered a “hot” landing. We immediately purchased beer and began drinking it upon arrival at the hidden winter bunker of Matty C and Nico who were holding the modern world at bay. Stories were exchanged. The Godfather departed on his mission. I patroled the streets while going through a few safety briefings. We rendez-voused at a hipster bar. I was nursing a whiskey and some falafel when contact was made. His mission remained incomplete and his objectives were becoming blurred. I did my best to remind him to maintain his papermaking bearing. We could not afford for his judgement to become impaired.
The following day I fulfilled my obligation to the history of that for which I have carried the word far and wide. I gazed upon the pulp wall which bears the weight of the stories of all my friends, of all my family. I stood in the place where it began and it was good and it was right and something inside of me was complete. We met with Paper Agent JT. He informed us of the details of how his family has grown to include a son and together the three of us, who have served together in many bizarre campaigns, were together again after many years and we bullshitted inside of our Mecca where the fibers of our stories were first mended.
It was the first time that I had seen JT in more than a year. He had gone off the reservation in the time that had elapsed and there were a great deal of questions built up around the tuning of his emotional compass. We were both quite pleased to find that his demeanor showed only that he was anxious to come back to the pack and that he was already working again towards the good work. There is still some risidual concern that he is now a spy.
I also met Paper Agent Pitkin who before had been only rumors of drunkness and a few stylish photographs. I no longer question her dedication to the Paper Trail. I am a suspicious type by nature.
The following morning was spent holed up inside of the bunker wallowing in the somber fever of the Godfathers secret mission. He is learning a lesson about what happens when one dabbles in the dark arts.
That evening we went back to the Green Door and conducted emergency evactuation proceedures. In one hour we’d completely loaded Otis down with paper making and printing equipment. We carried two long rolls of Egyptian Cotton, each weighing something in the neighborhood of two-hundred pounds, like Special Forces trainees carrying logs. We are Alpha Squad. We said our final goodbyes to this place, our home land, and we departed at 2000.
That evening we stayed in a local safehouse with two life-long devotees to the just cause who fed us and gave me new safety materials to review. We were informed of the where-abouts of an AWOL Paper Agent who is definitely off the reservation.
That morning I turned 27 and cooked eggs. at 1200 the Godfather and I loaded into “Jitterbug” and began the trip back to the Sanctuary.
The Godfather’s mission still remains open at this time. My mission to retrieve supplies from, while paying my respects to, the Green Door Studios was a success. Contact has been made with a missing Agent.
My loyalty is unwavering.
//——————————–Nothing Else Follows————————————//
The Paper Trail 