[color=#C0C0C0] Franz moved at the order, tucking his helmet down to proper position before quickly marching to the front. There was no hesitation. There was only knowing that this may be the last day he ever breathes air. His heart pounded, giving himself a bit of surprise in anticipation of the main event. He kept in formation but immediately took cover in the trench once it was available. The silence was unnerving, this darkness was surely to be awoken by the light of explosives and gun fire. He did a weapon check, a brief maintenance before wiping off the water that had collected upon the rifle and peeked over the safety of the trench briefly to check for any movement before ducking back down and checking for his bayonet. Thoughts raced as he shuffled in his space and felt his emotions bubbling. Thoughts of the past. [/color] [color=#808080] [i]"War? Is that what you want?" "I'm going back. That's it." "So what? You want me to wait here while you go out there and get killed? Use your head, Franz. They're going to the grinder and you want to be the next on the chopping block? Get the hell out of the army before that happens!" "What else am I supposed to do? Sit around waiting to find someone that will never show up? I've tried and tried but nobody has seen her. I need to do something other than get spit on in the streets." "And the best thing you could do is go die for the fucking Feds? The same ones that told us we'd be better in a ditch?" "It pays. The army is nothing if not consistent with payment regardless of hair color." "Yeah, job security isn't going to matter when you're meters in the ground. I can't believe we're even having this conversation. You want me to keep looking for this bit-" A solid strike to the cheek. It caused the first silence of that mid day conversation and it did so with the other man holding his jaw for the moment before throwing Franz over the table and diving after. It was a struggle, both men grunting and groaning as fist and words hit with such ferocity that furniture nearly gave way under the pressure of their battle. Ten minutes. Ten minutes of struggling with Franz finally being thrown against the rotten wood stairs and grabbed by his collar. They stared at each other, heaving and sweating with the sound of rain tapping the glass. The power went out. Lights turned dim. It wasn't long after that they sat quietly by the campfire burning damaged magazines and newspapers, sharing a moment with warm coffee and a blanket to cover them. They held neutral expressions with battered skin. "You know, sarge is going to kill me once he sees my uniform." "Just see Veronica before you leave. She's laundered equipment before I'm sure she'll know how to fix it up or at least give you a new one." "How did you meet her anyway?" "Veronica? We were just sitting at the pool enjoying the day and I just decided to talk to her. I looked at her she looked at me and it just kind of happened. Just a couple of Darscens trying to get by. Course, she dyed her hair light blue. I always hated that shit. Sure a coat of new paint means you get treated better, but it's disgusting that we need to change who and what we are to even be accepted. To hell with that. I'm staying Darscen even if it kills me." "You're a thug on the street, I'm pretty sure it will kill you at some point." "Not as fast as some pretentious fuck of a lieutenant telling me to throw my body at a line of rifles. You hear about that fucking poster boy? What a god damn joke. He wouldn't last a week in the slums." It got a laugh out of Franz, smiling as he responded to Markus "True. Still, it pays." "With all that money you get I think about investing into a new apartment but then I remember that staying in isolation like this is the best way to be. Sure it's not what I'd call paradise but a couple Darscen sympathizers isn't going to change the fact that the world is filled with its biased selections. At least here we're a den of our own kind. That's better than any luxury suite." "That's kind of a lie isn't it? I know you'd rather have that sweet chicken pulled buffet." "Oh fuck yeah I would, but that's besides the point. Good food only carries you so far. I'm an idealist, just like you. I'm gonna die in a few decades so I might as well go out doing what I love and being who I am. Maybe I'll build up a family in the meantime." "Veronica?" "Relax, professor. She's just a squeeze. I'd like to think I have higher standards." "I don't think she'd appreciate hearing that." "We don't exactly have the best chemistry but it's better than being a punk ass virgin like you. She feels the same in that way." "Always did have a way with words." "Glad you agree. Still, I think it's time you gave up on that Amber shit. She's gone, man. You need to find someone else." Silence. The fire burned, ripping away at the remnants of the trash as Franz stood and grabbed his letters, looking at them and then the fire before putting them back. He took the old phone book instead, chucking the behemoth into the pit before taking his part of the covers again. "You're hopeless, Franz... Still, you're lucky you're my best friend... I'll keep looking for her. Just don't fucking die... alright?"[/i] [/color] [color=#C0C0C0] He was in something of a trance for a moment, gripping at his shoulder as though the blankets were there until he left his memories, his ear still placed against the structure as he listened and waited. He thanked Veronica quietly. Even if it wasn't right to work with an insider like that he didn't mind it personally. She'd never gotten caught as far as he knew and it saved him a week in the hole. This uniform felt better too, the lines weren't as irritating and it had something of a soft comfy stretch to it. It was better than the stiff and hastily made uniform they gave him at first. He took a moment to appreciate it, knowing that she picked it out just for him. He would still need to talk with his squad eventually, but for now he settled for just staying still and listening for a shift. Waiting for the order as he remembered Markus' words. [/color]