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[center][h1][color=Green]Leonard "Leathers" Russell[/color][/h1][/center]
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[color=gray]“Ey’, Lenny!”[/color] A voice shouted from across the ways, beckoning to him for attention. Private Leonard Russell quickly tugged at his rifle sling and padded through the crowded trench towards the voice that called his name, yet every step seemed to place it even further away. He walked on and on, then he walked some more - feeling where the damp had begun to seep into his boots. Eventually he saw his old pal Petey stood at the precipice, rifle in hand, offering him a hand up to the ladder, into the breach.

The battlefield was clear, it seemed. Other men advanced around them, seeming in good spirits, yet something seemed amiss. Just as he stepped over a roll of barbed wire- [color=gray]“Fritz!”[/color] He heard someone else shout aloud, and he frantically scrabbled for his rifle as he saw a faint glow in the distance, growing ever closer.

[i]Fire.[/i] A literal wave of fire, embodied by the glowing specters of the enemy, pronged helmets and all. Men all around him - his brothers in arms - they raised their rifles and fired in unison to no avail. Machine gun fire drummed in the distance, as did the shells of their artillery. Their enemy would not yield. Leonard froze in place, unable to move, until he heard a voice. [color=gray]”Shit, Lenny - snap out of it, we gotta move!”[/color] Petey socked him across the jaw and tugged at his sleeve and finally his legs started working again.

They made a beeline for the trenches, paying no attention to the spectral screams of their advancing foes and the men who were scorched and crushed underfoot. Leonard dove into the trench and fell flat on his face in the mud, only to feel Petey yanking him back to his feet and throwing him deeper into the trench as the flaming soldiers approached. He stopped and turned back, only to see his old pal scorched to ashes by the vengeful specters. As they turned their crimson bayonets on him, he felt the flesh along his arm begin to blacken and crackle...

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Leonard shuddered as he felt the droplets on his forehead, waking him prematurely from his morning nap. Blinking a couple times, he glanced up to see where earlier’s raindrops had seeped through the branches and their leaves, before hoarsely clearing his throat and looking around for that mongrel of his when he saw him padding around in the direction of the farmstead.

[color=green]“Petey… psst, Petey!”[/color] Leonard whispered, snapping his fingers and whistling to catch the dog’s attention. Finally he listened, snapping his head towards his owner with pricked ears and eventually padding over, tongue lolling out. Leonard smiled faintly and gave him a scratch behind the ears with his scarred palm, before driving the other into his knee to stand up. He wondered how long he'd dozed off and gave his jacket a firm brush for good measure, before heading back towards the others, wondering if they'd finished their little baseball game.

He made it back just in time to see the eastern boy, Julian carrying Clay’s lifeless body towards them and hear about how some crazed madman had killed him, before they did the same in self-defence. Leonard felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle as he saw how badly the poor bastard had been torn into, noticing that the wound on his neck looked even worse than those caused by barbed wire or artillery shells he’d seen during the war. It was enough to make him instinctively feel for his holstered pistol, yet before he could say anything he caught earshot of the boss, Farmer Tackett, hollering at them to get inside.

Like a couple of the other farmhands, the sound of the radio blaring in the barn quickly caught Leonard’s attention and he did as best he could to listen in. [i]Red Plague..[/i] it made his neck bristle yet again - and so did his scarred arm, which was [i]never[/i] a good sign. If the years on the road had taught him anything, it was that his gut was the only thing worth a damn trusting - and his gut told him that he’d be glad he slept with a gun close at hand tonight.