Day ?? – A Diary Divided: The Division

What follows is a chronological order of events that take place in a series, written by an Agent within The Division who shall remain anonymous. He shares his nickname at the end of each entry, so that his friends and family will recognize, that they may keep up to date with his journey. The entries are date stamped the day they are received, which may not reflect the day they were written, as some entries may cover multiple days. They are posted as they come in, unaltered.


DAY ??

I don’t know what day it is, how long I’ve been here, or if this nightmare will ever end. The gangs are just getting stronger. Day turns into night and night into day in a haze. Most days I don’t even leave my apartment unless I need to stock up on food.

One of the last missions I remember taking part in was scanning medical containers on the rooftops, and now I’m starting to wonder if all these trips into heavily contaminated areas are starting to have an effect on my health, or maybe my memory. I haven’t felt sick, but the doctor said that we wouldn’t see  symptoms immediately. Maybe I’ve contracted a different strain of the virus. Who knows. 

I did want to check in today and explain the delay in my recent letters deliveries. A couple weeks ago we got the call to take out the Cleaners Headquarters. They’ve held themselves up in some sort of Power Plant or Napalm Plant along the river. The place was huge and inside housed numerous propane and gas tanks that were supplying the cleaners. ARCHITECT and PIKEY joined me to clear out the Plant and destroy the tanks. The plan therein would limit the number of Cleaners on the streets as they were burning a lot of the buildings down.


The mission went smooth enough with the help of ARCHITECT and PIKEY but my Chromebook was destroyed when my backpack got torched. I snagged it on some scaffolding in the construction site that flanked the Plant, and that’s where we came across the first wave of enemies. I’ve since gotten a new pack from HQ but lost my means to write letters. Most of the city has been looted, so it took me a week or so to find another Notebook that was halfway decent and compact enough to lug along with me. I also lost my USB drive, but after scouring a few PC shops in the heavily destroyed mall, I was able to locate another. So we’re back up and running at least.

I’ve since parted ways with ARCHITECT, and I haven’t seen PIKEY in ages. Hopefully he didn’t die. The Divisions crew has been hurting for new members, so losing any is a big blow. I did meet up with a new Division member who goes by ILLESTRADER. Hopefully by teaming up we can survive longer.

I split up with ARCHITECT because I felt his mind was starting to go the way of the Cleaners. Everyone we came across was an enemy. Even the dogs in the streets. He would just shoot them, without mercy. And more oft than not he’s been spending time in the Dark Zone which is where we’ve lost a lot of agents. It’s essentially a huge quarantined area with tall walls. This is where the outbreak hit heaviest, and no one is supposed to enter. Think Chernobyl. There’s no power either. But a lot of Agents have taken to it. They no longer help the Division, and have taken the gear and supplies and setup shop. Without allegiance to the remaining Division Agents either, they’re considered another Gang and must be either eliminated or avoided at all cost. But if ARCHITECT wants to stay in there, so be it. 


Day 4 – A Diary Divided: The Division

What follows is a chronological order of events that take place in a series, written by an Agent within The Division who shall remain anonymous. He shares his nickname at the end of each entry, so that his friends and family will recognize, that they may keep up to date with his journey. The entries are date stamped the day they are received, which may not reflect the day they were written, as some entries may cover multiple days. They are posted as they come in, unaltered.


Day 4

I was somewhere around Chelsea, on the edge of the park when I got the call over my Comm. I remember the voice saying something like: “JTF Officer trapped inside computer shop North-East of your position – Pennsylvania Plaza”. And suddenly I was standing, and my feet were me carrying off. 

How is it that we’ve been doing this for only a few short days, and yet it feels like a lifetime? I can’t sleep. That probably has something to do with it. My body moves me from one task to the next, mission after mission, my SCAR-L rifle is dead weight in my hands. If I came across a group of rebels, I don’t think I’d be able to defend myself. I robotically check the magazine anyways.

It was almost noon by the time I reached the corner of Barren Street and Empty Boulevard. There is no going back, I had an obligation to see the mission through, for good or ill. I almost stumbled over PIKEY and ARCHITECT who had arrived moments before. My solo expedition had expanded after I met a few Agents during the Benitez mission yesterday, they were the ones that helped me get back to HQ, and I’m forever grateful. We have our GPS’ linked up so we can track each other in case we need some backup. I had a nervous feeling this would be one of those cases. Not that I thought we’d need three agents to rescue the JTF Officer, but once you become reliant on someone watching your back, you kind of want that to be the permanent case.


The only thing that really worried me was ARCHITECT’s eagerness to “defend” himself. It seemed that he was starting to look for trouble. There had been some reports of some of the Agents going rogue, taking advantage of this situation, and their access to goods and weapons. Even as far as providing intel to assist the enemy groups. I’ll have to watch him.

The computer shop, it turns out, was not heavily defended. Two rebels inside, and one outside that showed up when the first chatter of gunfire echoed around the block. After calling HQ to request a pick-up for our rescued brother, we started off towards Manhattan Mall, the main mission for the day. Equipped with heavy duty filters, our mission was to extract some physical evidence from the teller machines in the shopping mall. The Medical Wing at HQ believes that we’ll be able to find some quality samples for testing. 

Continue the good fight, soldier.

How long can we maintain though? I realize its only been 4 days, but there’s rumours that no more help is coming from outside? That’s hard to believe. The outside world has got to start coming to the same grim realization that I am. There is no coming back from this outbreak. Are those of us in here doomed? We’re helping the medical teams in here so they can relay the information outside the quarantine to come up with a cure. But will that help us in here too? Or just the rest. Maybe that’s why some of the agents are going rogue? Making their stay worth it. While the rest of us remain oblivious.


We arrived at the Mall without hassle, but there was already smoke billowing out. The Cleaners had likely arrived and were torching everything.  PIKEY checked in with Comm and relayed that the power to the sprinkler systems needed to be restarted. He started off on his own, and left ARCHITECT and me to start the attack. 

Let’s get to the heart of this one: this is a very ominous assignment, with obviously an extreme amount of personal danger. Cleaners, Concentrated Contagion, and Fire. Triple checking my mask’s filter, which for all I know is just for show, I braced for the heat and ducked into the smokey Mall entrance. Comm had given us a short list of shops to check – those that deal in smaller transactions, hoping for more physical evidence – so ARCHITECT and I split up to cover more ground.

Three shops each had been cleared out when the Cleaners became aware of our presence, or more specifically – mine, and lets get the record straight: The Cleaners use flamethrowers. These handy filters of ours can block the smoke in the air, but not the heat. I needed to find an escape quickly. I started by calling PIKEY and ARCHITECT to my position to flank the attackers. The sprinklers erupted from the ceiling and started dousing some of the fires, but the Cleaners would not be deterred. Hell stilled spewed from down the hall in my general direction, and I was trapped. When the first Cleaner neared the entrance to my shop, I shot at the fuel tanks straddling his back, ensuring that he was now his own problem. PIKEY and ARCHITECT arrived shortly after to eliminate the others.

I’m sure adding fuel to the fire didn’t help what happened next. 

The vibrations shuddering the first floor announced the inevitable structural damage, and our need to leave. We bagged what bills we could get from the teller machines and escaped through another entrance to the bright, brisk, fire-free sunlight. Hopefully Medical can make use of what we did end up grabbing before the fire took the rest. Our primary responsibility, after all, is the survival of the rest of the human race. I will have to remind myself that when the next bleak news hits.

I’m back at HQ now. If anyone asks, I’ll just say that I’m writing a field report. They haven’t caught on to our little devious plan in dropping off the USB in the secure mail boxes. We change it up each day. I get the USB back in the same box as I dropped it off in, but inside the USB is a new file with a new mailbox number and code. It’s pretty smart. I guess I’m revealing my plan to those that cared to look, but I’ll take my chances.

Getting some extra rations for tonight and tomorrow took some extra negotiating but I got what I asked for. I have a rest day tomorrow thankfully, but I understand why they are trying to limit my take-home. The civilian rations are being controlled now, so it would seem unfair if an Agent walked out with more. I’ll just make sure I’m not followed home. Wouldn’t want any trouble.




Day 3 – A Diary Divided: The Division

What follows is a chronological order of events that take place in a series, written by an Agent within The Division who shall remain anonymous. He shares his nickname at the end of each entry, so that his friends and family will recognize, that they may keep up to date with his journey. The entries are date stamped the day they are received, which may not reflect the day they were written, as some entries may cover multiple days. They are posted as they come in, unaltered.


Day 3

The city is in an all-out war. The Rikers and The Cleaners patrol the street making it hard for the Agents to get anywhere now. I made it back to the Post Office HQ limping with my left thigh heavily bandaged and probably missing my eyebrows. But I made it back.

Following the events at MGS and falling asleep in the subway tunnels, I awoke to the squeaking of rats. They were crawling all over my bag trying to get at my rations. I hastily gathered my shit and made it above ground to breath in some “fresh air”. Noticing now what I failed to notice last night was the very real fact that the subway tunnels were now the city morgue. Or were anyways. The subways are controlled by the Cleaners now – sanitation workers who think that everyone is infected and have taken it upon themselves to “clean” the city. And by clean I mean incinerate. Equipped with a full flame-retardant suit and flamethrower. They’ve been holding out in the subway tunnels cremating the corpses.

Luckily I was able to make it by them unseen, meet up with the city services crew and assist with getting the generators back on so the tunnels can vent again. 


The subway station and tunnels are a hot mess. Luckily we were able to get some power turned on to the fans and emergency sprinklers.

Meeting up with Captain Benitez is a different story. We met at the secret safehouse after the coordinates were forwarded to my Comm. After the introductions, and discussing the plan of attack, taking back the city, the safehouse was attacked by a large gang. They somehow crafted an IED and blew a hole through the wall and had a sniper situated in the distance, spotting us. A shrapnel grenade exploded within the safehouse and I got some pieces lodged in my leg, hence the limp and bandages. Luckily the doctor here was able to take care of everything, ensuring prompt healing. I’m sure the blood will be hard to get out in the laundry though.

I spoke with Benitez briefly about MGS. He’s been at ground zero since day one and his hands are far from clean now. He was not convinced that our current predicament would be ending soon, but quite the opposite. The destruction and looting, and deaths will get a lot worse. And I’m starting to see it even now. The meager hold we have is deteriorating. I’m constantly hearing explosions off in the distance, and I’m not sure if that’s just gang warfare, or my fellow Agents. We need more people, more help.

The Farley Post Office and the people inside are working endlessly to help anyone in need. The Medical, Tech, and Security wings are all set now, so any new Agent coming in will at least be equipped and fed, and sent to an outpost. I’m still at my vacated condo, but I spoke with the tech guys and they have given me some security cameras, and some locking clamps for my door. The building I’m staying at is now within the safe zone of the Post Office, which has hourly patrols, so that’s a huge relief.


Some of the city blocks are blocked off due to high concentration of contaminated materials.

The news has started to broadcast more stories from inside, so at least some information, besides my letters, are getting out. My contact at the Post HQ confirmed that my previous correspondence was decrypted and extracted from the FTP, so that’s another relief, knowing my letters are published somewhere.

We’re taking the city back block by block. Tomorrow I’ve been tasked with some rooftop medical scans, restoring connections to some hardline cameras in the Hudson yards, and a breach into Mahattan Mall, as the medical team thinks that a lot of the money transfers happened there, and they want some of the bank notes to test.

I have to attend to my leg now, make sure the wounds are cleaned and re-dressed for the evening, and make sure this letter gets dropped off at HQ.



Day 2 – A Diary Divided: The Division

What follows is a chronological order of events that take place in a series, written by an Agent within The Division who shall remain anonymous. He shares his nickname at the end of each entry, so that his friends and family will recognize, that they may keep up to date with his journey. The entries are date stamped the day they are received, which may not reflect the day they were written, as some entries may cover multiple days. They are posted as they come in, unaltered.


Day 2

My hands are still shaking, so I don’t know how long this entry will be. I’m currently writing this in the darkness of the underground subway tunnels tucked into a corner, lit only by the dull LCD of my Chromebook on battery power. When I showed up at the post Office HQ at first light, I was sent off on a three mission, three day expedition. There was a doctor working out of Madison Square Garden that was being forced to work for one of the bigger gangs, healing their wounded. Second mission was to get some of the subway tunnels powered up near the Hudson Yard construction site and makeshift dead-body incinerators, and get the ventilation fans turned on, and then finally meet with the Chief of Security, Captain Roy Benitez, at an undisclosed location by day three. I’ll get that information tomorrow, if I make it through tonight.

So, why am I in the darkness, in the subway tunnels? Well, let’s first talk about Madison Square Garden.

 MSG was one of the first buildings used as a quarantine shelter when the pandemic hit and Manhattan went on lockdown. The building typically caters to tens of thousands of fans nightly, so they had enough food and supplies ready for the first waves of people. But one of the bigger gangs, the Rikers, rolled in and took over the place once the looting and riots started. As the JTF was just getting situated, they didn’t have the resources yet to take it back, and they lost control. Dr. Jessica Kandel was captured and held against her will to provide medical attention to the club. My task today, with hopefully some other Agents was to take back MSG and rescue the doctor, and escort her back to the Farley base so she can work with the JTF and figure out what’s happening with this virus.

I was not naive or delusional when I enlisted to be an Agent many years ago, I was qualified, aced their training programs, and passed their counseling sessions and psychological assessment. I was led to believe that I may have to take a life, in self defence, in this type of work, especially when the situation is as extreme as the one we presently face. I’ve been equipped with a classic AK-47 with extended magazine and laser sight, a metallic black Super 90 shotgun, and First Wave PF-45 pistol. Obviously the Homeland Division and Joint Task Force are expecting us to come against some push-back.

All the sessions and assessments did not prepare me for today. I . . . I just get this feeling where it’s like I’m not, I guess, whatever. We don’t have to get into it right now.


All the missing person posters are attached to the walls of the buildings adjacent to the Post Office Headquarters.

Two other Division Agents followed me through the entrance doors of the Madison Square Garden arena, along with a handful of JTF soldiers. We were directed to the security room where the CCTV and broadcast cameras had different views of the building. Dr. Kendel was kept at the East side of the building, in the main restaurant area between the lower and upper bowls. Due to the clogging of refuse and food stores all the hallways were blocked off and the easiest way was down through the seats, across the floor and then up the far side. The mission quickly turned to disaster as we hit the floor and were attacked by a handful of the Riker gang members.

Primarily armed with only handguns and baseball bats, they were no match for the other two Agents or me, as we had them clearly out-classed. There was no hesitation on their part though. I begged them to lay down their guns – walk away. Maybe it was my mask, maybe they didn’t understand me. Maybe they weren’t listening. I’ll put it this way: they didn’t leave the arena floor to follow us up the other side.

The rest of the extraction is still kind of a blur to me, but we made it out. The JTF soldiers extracted Dr. Kendal from the VIP restaurant section, while the other two Agents and I made it to the roof to clear out the remaining members of the entrenched gang. Another battle filled with confusion, smoke, and very little negotiation.

The sun went down a few hours ago and it got cold quick. I didn’t have the strength or the mind to make it back to the Base to properly check in – just used my Comm instead – and I went straight to the Subway Tunnels to prepare and scout my next mission. I’ll have to touch base with one of the city planners who are familiar with the inner workings of the electrical room tomorrow.


I do hope my previous message made it out into the world, or that it at least got to the people that needed to read it. If I make it out of this mess, I’ll have to remember to thank my old crew at the paper. This message will be quite a few days old I suspect by the time it gets out, if it gets out. But now I just need to try and get some rest.




Day 1 – A Diary Divided: The Division

What follows is a chronological order of events that take place in a series, written by an Agent within The Division who shall remain anonymous. He shares his nickname at the end of each entry, so that his friends and family will recognize, that they may keep up to date with his journey. The entries are date stamped the day they are received, which may not reflect the day they were written, as some entries may cover multiple days. They are posted as they come in, unaltered.




So I’ve survived day 1. I got the call that I had been dreading and now I’m here, for lack of a better word: alone. The message was received on my watch at oh-nine-hundred yesterday, March 19th, and I went straight to my local base to get on the next transport. I was expecting the message, but didn’t think it would come this soon, and with so little warning. Luckily I don’t have any pets, or a girlfriend or fiance at home. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my friends or Mom though. So, uh, goodbye everyone. I hope to see you again, or hear from you when this is all over. Mom, I love you and miss you, and I’m OK. I guess I should get that out of the way right away. I’m OK.

A little back story – I’m a Division Agent. Surprise! Right? Who would have guessed? One of many agents actually. We were enlisted, and trained in basic combat, and survival techniques. Nothing fancy. We know how to shoot, track, and survive. And basic comm skills. It’s not our day job, but something that we get some compensation on the side for, to keep up emergency supplies and rations, and so they can keep tabs on us. We’re a sleeper emergency response unit basically, to be called upon when shit gets real, when the government needs to regain control of its people. In the event of a disaster or something. We report to the Strategic Homeland Division and assist the JTL, or Joint Task Force to help restore some order to the city.

What I don’t need to tell you is that disaster has struck, in the form of a smallpox pandemic. Someone called it the “Dollar Flu” and the name has stuck. Its central to New York right now, and the city has been quarantined. With me inside. There aren’t many people left here either. Anyone left here standing is immune and the rest are, well, diseased. The disease transferred by touch through money, physical money. And in a heavily populated area like New York, money changes hands constantly. That’s why it spread so fast.


I got one of the locals to snap a picture of me standing underneath a “No Standing Anytime” sign. The sign could be referring to me, or The X-Men. I didn’t ask for clarification.

They have the base of operations set up James A. Farley Post Office, and that was my first stop today. Met with the commanding officers and was given my gear, guns, some food while I’m mobile and my Comm pack. Met a few of the other Agents, but the expectations of us are to go somewhat alone, so that we’re more spread out across the city, and not clumped together. As a result of the Dollar Flu, and the city being quarantined, there is some pretty heavy looting and destruction of the city by the survivors. Basically thugs. The cockroaches are the ones to survive right? Our primary objective as an Agent is to clean up the city while the cause of the pandemic is determined, and a cure is created. As we are ground zero, we also have to follow the commands of the higher-ups, in case we’re give a mission.

Looting and destruction isn’t the worst of it. People have been taken hostage, people are fighting over whole streets, and claiming it as their own, like a gang mentality. No city services are running, so there’s fires everywhere. I’m surprised the power is even still running. There doesn’t really seem to be a lot of news leaving the area either. At the head base while I was waiting for my turn to be called for gear, I was watching the TV of the outside connection they had setup, and the news was talking about the virus and the quarantine, and that’s it. I’m guessing they don’t want people to know how bad it actually is, how bad the looting has gotten, or how high the death toll has risen. The JTL has no way of removing the dead bodies, and no real means of cleaning up the city. I’m not sure if they’re keeping them for testing, but there’s a lot of covered bodies around. I heard they have a huge incinerator near the construction site of the train tunnels.

I’m not allowed to talk to media or share anything. I have a little wireless chromebook that I keep with me, which is how I’m writing to you, but there’s no network or internet connections throughout the entire Downtown Manhattan. Only the Base has the hard-line connection and Satellite. Luckily the base is located in a Post Office though, and post offices deal in mail. I have a friend who works in Comms, and he has access to the Network and Comms to Brooklyn. I’ve given him the info to my work’s FTP. I work for a local free newspaper. They’ll get it, and hopefully post it somewhere. The plan is to drop off a USB drive with the entry into a secure mailbox, he uploads it, and puts the drive back. I have to check in at the HQ every morning and evening anyways for the daily rations, so this setup should work. Unless the Base gets attacked, or either of us get found ot, or I die. But lets not get ahead of ourselves.

I’m sharing this because I feel people need to know, and so my family knows I’m OK. This city is contaminated. We wear masks so that we don’t breath anything in. The streets are littered with abandoned cars. Its a mess. I’m staying in an apartment building a couple blocks away from the post office. Keeps me close,  but not too close. I also take a different route home everyday, just in case. The condo is nothing special – its already been looted and no one else was staying here. I sleep on the floor and don’t touch any of the furnishings without gloves, and it has power and heat most importantly, since its still late winter here. Hasn’t quite warmed up yet outside. It has running water too, which I’ll boil so I can bathe.

So that’s that. I made it through day one. It’s dark outside and I’m exhausted. They told me today was basically for orientation and to get situated, since I was one of the last transports in, but tomorrow … tomorrow is when the real deal begins. Oh-six-hundred – be ready. And I intend to be. Hopefully this message makes it out. It’ll be at least 12 hours old by the time anyone reads it I suspect. Hopefully another one will follow.