"Standing? I think I can follow that order." Nadia resumed her former position, bored out of her mind. And to think I joined for excitement, she thought, with a quiet sigh.
She looked around, and decided to spark up a conversation. She walked over to Mick and nodded in greeting. "So why'd you join?" she asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her eye.
"What do you mean we have to 'scout the area'? What area? For how long? For what fucking purpose?", Emerson shouted down the phone, probably loud enough that those on the other platform heard, "I've got a bunch of soldiers so green that they don't even know how to hold a damn rifle properly, and you want me to 'scout the area'? Fuck, Chief, why don't you just shoot me now?"
Holding the phone to his ear, Emerson half-listened to his Chief's reply and half-stared at the newbies on the other platform. He exchanged an angry glance with Robin, before turning his attention back to the phone.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Yeah, I get that-- yes, I know. Yeah, yeah, it's a big honour. Whoop-de-do. Do you know where I just came from? And do you know why I was in there?", he shouted down the phone once more, waiting a moment for the reply, "What do you mean by that? That's bollocks! This is the LAST thing I need right now, don't you tell me what's good for me. Oh, is that right? Yeah, yeah, sounds absolutely GREAT. And by the way, that was me being sarcastic, you prick!"
Slamming the phone down in his fit of rage, Emerson marched back to the other platform through the overhead tunnel and approached Robin once more. He whispered into his ear for a few seconds, some of the recruits giving the two strange looks.
"Scouting... does this mean we're going into the field... already? I haven't even shot someone since 1986. And even that was an accident. Shit. Where's my motor oil..."
He turned back to Sander.
"Actually, that was in Ulster. I got embroiled in a local IRA "group", if you can even call us that. We used to go around carrying little pistols and scaring old ladies. Christ, I was a prick back then. Church every Sunday, but during the week I was just as much of a bastard as everyone else in my town. I was playing around with my little revolver I had when I accidentally shot a short, stubby chap named Barry, right in the middle of his hand. He screamed like a little girl..."
Michael spat his mouthful of fuel out of his mouth, not realising anybody had spotted him taking a swig.
"That whiskey'd be a fine thing right now, if you please..." He unscrewed another, empty hip flask and held it out. "Say... you don't happen to have any bullets for this old Sten-gun thing do you?" He motioned to a battered old weapon slung on his back. "I can't find any for the life of me".
Mick turned to Nadia, slightly surprised at the question.
"Well, I was in the Marines before the oil dried up. Didn't have any reason to just quit, and I didn't want my country to die without a fight.
What about you?" He asked.
Rufus sighed, and turned away from Michael "Motor Oil" Vallon, to look over at the officers, after hearing an outburst from one of them.
"Huh... scouting...what?" he mumbled to himself, then looked over his shoulder towards platform four.
Eh, I'll be heading off to sleep now <3
And I think Fraught may have already gone a few minutes before as well <3
Please don't leave us out of too much .>
"I was bored, and I needed a place to stay," explained Nadia. "I was living in an apartment, barely fit for a dog, and I figured the military would provide something. That, and I had experience in the military, like you."
Chris Ayanbadejo (pronounced Aye-An-Ba-Day-Jo) has remained silent as the commanders of the squad were berating the troops and each other. They couldn't even get his bloody name right. It was not the welcome into the army life that he was hoping for.
Jesus what am I doing here? This is ridiculous! I can not fight! Not since I got out of the gangs! I haven even fired a gun in four years! And they expect me to defend England?
He looked around at the others, his tall, lanky stature helping him survey the other faces in the crowd. And I am the only brother here to boot. Wonderful. I get the feeling I'll be heading up Operation Meat Shield. He decided to remain quiet for now, not wanting to give away the fact that he had no idea what he would be doing here.
Katrina carefully approached the Israeli woman and her companion, who seemed to be sharing their reasons why they were here. She got close enough to hear their conversation, but not so close as to be spoken to. She didn't want to talk about why she had joined up; she didn't really want to remember why she was here, only that she was. And those two people at least had had some form of military training; they could show her what she needed to do when the time came. It would be difficult for her, she knew, but it was something she felt she had to do.
"I'm pretty sure we're about to head to the barracks any minute now. You joined this jolly group during time of war, and you're not running away. Ignoring this urge until the right time'll be your first trial," he said, smiling.
Gar's head was streaming with questions but he quickly silenced them and loosened his muscles to allow some comfort to seep in, seeing as the officers he was to respond to seemed to be in over their heads and had way more problems on their plate than some blonde soldier standing loosely in line.
I haven't been so confused since the time I shipped out from Iceland.
Gar looked at his burnt and muddied hands and looked around him for the first time since he was summoned to the gates. The poorly shaped people all around him all had the same goal as him.
Standing there at the docks, waving my mother and my brothers goodbye. I was so happy... my brothers all had serious injuries from American submarine attacks from their days of fishing, so I was the only one in my family that was shipped to England.
But then, as if on queue, memories rushed to him. His four brothers returning from the coastline on stretchers... blood everywhere. So much blood. Then, his sister's face. So happy, so full of life and joy.
A tear immersed from Gar's eyes and he quickly returned to present time and swung his head to the side, quickly brushing the tear-stained dirt smudged all over his face. Crying wasn't him, and definitely not amongst his superiors.
Even for Sarah, he was not going to cry.
Thomas looked at the others with uncertainty and the feeling of anxiety in his stomach. He did it, he was fighting now. That made him feel better but he still had nightmares of that fateful da..
He pushed the thought out of his head.
I've got to hate, I've got to make them feel my pain.
He thought about his American friends. Ten years ago they would regularly meet in Las Vegas and forget about all their worries for a few nights. Were they...
No, I've got to dehumanize them. If I start put their faces on the enemy I'll crack and I'll be just as useless as I was a month ago.
He sat silently in the ranks, ignoring everyone. Pulling out his flask, he took a swig and replaced the lid. When the hell was he going to get a weapon? He hoped his limited experience hunting in Manitoba would be enough...
Christoph Amsel stood quietly as the other recruits talked and bickered amongst themselves. At the current moment, he had no desire to speak to anyone; the former Bundespolizei officer preferred action to talk. Christoph took note of the many nervous and somewhat hostile glances from the other recruits and the two who seemed to be in charge. Out of habit, he straitened his tattered, dark green military jacket and shifted his weight to his right leg. The sooner we get started, the better.
Luke Kimmel had been silently standing away from most of the group. He had no idea how they would react to an American in their ranks. While he left his old home years ago with his family to avoid this sort of stuff. He knew there was going to be war and nothing good was going to come from his home in Texas. Thing about Americans, they don't know when to say when. He felt his family would be safe here in Europe. Tuns out that It is just as bad here.
Brushing his fingers through his short dirty blonde hair, he walked up to the man in charge, Robin, and asked with his southern Texan accent "What are the standing orders, sir?"
As the time passed, Gar felt nature's grasp upon him and so he decided to take the Captain up on his offer and go check out the barracks. But first, he needed to find the stalls.
Smoothly and uncomfortably, he shifted through the crowd and passed the guard stationed by the door. He walked into a lobby with some broken benches and old signs with train numbers and times of departure behind a shattered layer of glass. The air smelt damp from all the dead plants scattered everywhere in dirty pots. Better than a tent I suppose...
Inside the lobby, Gar picked up his duffel bag and headed toward a broken escalator where the bathrooms were at on the second floor.
He had taken his duffel bag with him on his voyage from Iceland, keeping various pictures, pen and paper and some home baked goodies his sister made him.
He stopped at the top of the escalator.
Again, he was hit by flashbacks of her sister. But this time it was his father on top of her. She was screaming, but he wouldn't get off of her. She was so young, oh so young. Gar? What are you doing?!?
His father called out to him, but he had already pulled the trigger.
"Sis..."
Her bloody and beaten body lying there in the beaten up shack behind their farmhouse. Blood covered the walls, and the ceiling, and her.
"Oh sis.... I wasn't quick enough. If only I would have arrived sooner..."
Sarah had been abused by their father for so many years. Their mother knew nothing of it, neither did his brothers. But he had seen him hurt her and abuse her more times than he could imagine. His father was drunk most of the time, but he was always sober. And he remembered every single tear she shed and every single time she screamed and cried for someone to help her. And finally, Gar couldn't take it anymore...
Tears began welling up in his eyes again, but he strained his muscles to keep walking. Just get to the bathroom. But it was too late, his face was full of fury and his heart beat too fast for his chest to sustain it.
As he entered the bathroom, he punched the tiled wall so hard the blood from his knuckles spurted across it and the tiles shattered, sending little pieces clattering to the floor by his feet.
He sat on the toilet in one of the stalls and pulled out his 9mm pistol. Oh Sarah... Forgive me
He wanted so bad to end it all there. The thought of her memory ached too much. He remembered saving two rounds, so he could just end it.
Gar slowly put the gun into his mouth. His hands started sweating, and his eyes went red from tears and rage.
But then he heard her voice. It spoke his name and he looked up, seeing her face back home while she was playing in the garden with his youngest brother.
"Sarah.."
Gar's 9mm slowly seeped from his hand and he threw it into the duffel bag and stood up.
His heartbeat slowly, gracefully halted as the ice cold truth hit him. He had almost committed suicide. The thought unnerved him, so he quickly walked outside, dodging everyone who stood guard or walked on patrols so he could make his way into the barracks unseen.
Shame riddled him and tears scarred him. He felt so alone.
I gotta get some sleep, got Christmas shopping tomorrow :/
@CaptainPirate: Sure thing, I'll just let you finish your conversation with Nadia first.
Johann shifted his feet and looked around at his comrades; he was having yet more doubts about whether he was really suited to this. A short and slightly weedy man with a thin face, his hands shook slightly even as he stood still. Until recently he had been a regular engineer, an immigrant from Austria when he moved to the UK a decade ago to live with his new wife Christine and had never looked back. Just eleven years back the world had seemed so safe, so secure, then he had no fears of starting a family. Now when he thought of his two young children all that filled his mind was worry over what sort of future they would have after the war finally ended.
He reached for his pistol and stroked the cold metal nervously. Some of his previous years had been spent in the armed forces, however he had been in a strictly non-combatent role, his task had been to fix up any serious technical issues. Now though it appeared he was to be on the front lines itself.
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