checkpost

I’m a wreck so i decided to waste 10 mins of my life putting a cowlick on that EZIC hoodie dude. 

Alfred is checkpost guard//secretly EZIC guy, Ivan is Inspector who has decided to help EZIC. Alfred also has huge crush on cutie inspector Ivan but he doesn’t wanna admit it cause 1. there is a soon to be a rebellion, 2. they’re sort of friends but Ivan can expose them to MOA/MOJ at any time, 3. Ivan doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d actually do anything other than stamp documents and shoot intruders. Idk tho

it’s hilarious 

(also i really love how the game kind of tests your morality and where you stand. my initial reaction to certain situations in the game really made me a question a lot about myself, and my action in-game in response to what i felt made me realise that there’s a price to pay for everything)

up next: Arstotzkan checkpoint inspector Ivan Braginski, and Arstotzkan (?) checkpoint security guard Alfred Jones

Eleven-year-old Minhaj-ud-Din walked over 40 kilometers from his home in Mir Ali to Bannu with nothing more than the clothes on his back. Surrounded by families, many fleeing the military offensive in North Waziristan that started on June 15, he stands apart. Orphaned in a drone strike two years ago, his extended family abandoned him after he refused to leave with them a week earlier. But don’t tell him he’s alone; as he is quick to tell anyone who’ll listen, he has Moti to keep him company.

“This dog is my universe,” Din told Newsweek as he reached Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa province. Parched and starving, he slurped down a glass of water, taking care to give some to his traveling companion. Seeing Din staring at an ice cream vendor, a passerby offered to buy him some. “Please buy one for my Moti too,” he pleaded. “He’s more loyal to me than anyone else.”

Din’s parents were both killed in a drone strike approximately two years ago—shortly after he adopted Moti as his pet. “We [siblings] were sleeping in a different room when we heard an explosion in our house,” he said. “When we looked, it [drone] had killed both my parents.” Din, who has three younger brothers, said his father had been a vegetable vendor when he was killed. “We moved in with our uncle and his family after that,” he added.

Petting Moti (pearl), Din said his uncle had urged him to leave with his family, but he hadn’t wanted to leave his hometown. They then took his brothers and left him to fend for himself. “I have no reason to fear the military operation,” he said. “They [drones] already killed my parents. How much more pain can they possibly cause now?”

However, Din finally decided to leave after his dog’s yelps of fear proved too much for him. “There was terrible bombardment in my hometown [Hassu-Khel] and Moti was terrified. He would keep yelping and jumping. I couldn’t stay as long as he wasn’t well,” he added.

Traveling with Moti came with its own drawbacks, according to Din. “I tried to find shelter in a mosque at night,” he said, “but the people there wouldn’t let me enter with Moti.” Instead, he said, he chose to spend the night under a nearby shop’s awning so he could stay with his dog. “We saw many destroyed shops and houses on our way,” said Din. “But I was too distracted with Moti to pay much attention to what was going on.”

At least 300 militants have been killed in the military’s ongoing Operation Zarb-e-Azb, according to the ISPR. Displaced tribesmen have claimed that dozens of civilians have also been in the airstrikes but there is no way to verify this, as journalists are not permitted in North Waziristan. Since the operation started, almost 500,000 civilians have fled the region—over 50 percent of the tribal area’s population, according to estimates.

As Din and Moti reached the Saidgai checkpost, where internally displaced persons are registered and administered the polio vaccine before being allowed to enter Bannu, an official motioned toward him to receive the vaccine. “Please administer a few drops to Moti as well,” he said politely.

Din doesn’t know where his family has gone and has no way to find them. This doesn’t seem to concern him. “As long as Moti is happy in Bannu, I will be happy to live here,” he said. “It all depends on him.”

Resource: newsweekpakistan.com

Who else is extremely annoyed by the army's sheer arrogance and disdain for civilians?

Here’s what happened exactly a year back (originally posted on Facebook):

‎45 mins on Sherpao bridge, headed toward Defence. Guess why? At the checkpost, they decided to ask EVERYONE to get off, frisk them, check their IDs, check the cabin and the boot. THANK YOU for being careful. Much appreciated. But why did it take especially long to check each car? There was only ONE soldier doing all that, for EVERY car. Naturally, I was annoyed. I asked him: Why don’t you have two more people with you? We don’t have enough soldiers, and that’s because people like YOU don’t make any noise. What the hell?! I’m telling you so you pass the message? No you talk to the seniors. Where is your superior? He’s not around. Who’s in-charge? MOVE THE CAR! I went ahead, and parked right after the barrier. Told the guard there to call the superior. He refused, said he couldn’t. I yelled. He called him. I asked him why there were more than THREE people standing on the side, and only ONE checking? Reply: WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? My reply: Why don’t you put more people on checking?! The line is a kilometer long! Reply: WE WILL NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU!!! And he started walking back. My mom was also with me. Didn’t make much difference.

I was driving to my grandparents’ house. There, I got a lecture on how one must NEVER question a military man, or even dare give a suggestion. They will slap you, put you in the back of a jeep, and lock you up. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Late last year, we moved to Defence, which you could call their side of the fence.

On Eid-ul-Fitr a few days back, we went to offer prayers at our family masjid on Mozang Road. On the way back, we took the Sherpao route. There was a long line at the check-post before the bridge. I was surprised because they normally don’t stop you there. But maybe they’re being extra vigilant for Eid so let’s give them due credit. We slowly inched closer to the barrier. The officer walked up to our car. I don’t carry my ID card so I showed him the driving license instead. He said it didn’t have a Defence or Cantonment address. I told him we were living in a rented place. He said entry was banned for non-residents. My dad told him that we had not been told to carry proof but the officer simply refused to listen. He said we need to turn back and go from Kalma Chowk. We asked him what proof did he have that we won’t have to face the same problem there? He simply walked off. My dad got pissed and went to talk to the person at the barrier. He told him that we’re living in a rented place so naturally none of our IDs will have a Defence or Cantonment address. If we had been told to carry proof, we would definitely have kept a copy of the “rent agreement”. The officer refused to budge. My dad told him that he’s spoiling everyone’s Eid by his stupidity. He, in turn, started lambasting my dad for not letting him obey orders. Clearly, it was a lost cause.

We weren’t the only ones angered by their insolence. Another guy stopped was going to meet his mamu (uncle). What proof could he show? This drama lasted for several minutes. Then, out of the blue, another officer came running from behind and announced that the orders had been cancelled. Orders? Cancelled? Without any further checking, they simply let all the cars stopped at the barrier to pass.

Thank you, sir.