[hr] [hider= Dear Amber] [color=silver] Every moment I’ve spent here has taught me something that I never knew. I relive the things I once experienced. The darkness of society reaches its hand over the shadow of war. I must say, I’m unsure how I feel of all things. There is but so little that can be done of my situation, but I still think about you. The death of a few pretty girls and the questioning if I’ll ever see my sunshine again. It’s possible, perhaps by the time you finally receive this my heart won’t be so cold. The train ride has been interesting, the people aboard varying in personality. Their blood runs cold knowing what is up ahead in the sleepless nights and the darkness of the war consumes the men who could not have been prepared for this war. I witnessed a woman stare out into the landscape during the night. I stayed by her, smoking and watching her just urinate through her pants, holding herself tightly. Nothing I could say would snap her out. I gave her my jacket for the night, a few cigarettes, and stood up thinking about what I had suffered. I was nobody special, but neither is a Darcsen ever given the right to be human. In the starlit night I could comfort another of my kin. I haven’t been in this war for even a year, and neither have many of the recruits who march at the whim of the now captain that I serve. I try to maintain what friendships I have. I take refuge in the shortest among them; Michael Daunte. Should you come across him, be assured that confiding in him will be worth your time. He has a future ahead of himself. He helped me understand my own. Although I still have no actual drive to… save myself. If there is the opportunity to save others I will do so. My purpose has never been without being the second hand, so to speak. Under no circumstance have I truly done anything for my own will or my own thoughts. Day after day I lived to serve others. Even when I was with my ungrateful father I had no autonomy. Under the wing of Markus I have never found myself wanting to do anything but be his pawn. For men like me, there is room for life. In an autocratic structure I hold purpose and some value. I’m no genius. I’m hardly a philosopher. I’m just a brawler who survived the slums. A muscleman with a record of breaking people as much as they break me. The love and hate that swirls within holds no bounds in an ocean of blood. Yet no matter how hard I paddle I find that I’m always following the current of the stream but I don’t know any other way. For the first time in my life I’ve killed people. I had always made it a policy before to cripple and maim but never to kill. It wasn’t my job. Even after Vanis was executed in the streets I couldn’t find it in me to murder. Markus never told me to get revenge in that way and so I never did. I can’t help but feel responsible. Yet what happened then was something that I can never forget and in what I’ve done now I wonder just how much restraint I’ll have in the future. With more and more blood and bodies piling and that god damn lieutenant… Whoever promoted him I hope burns in hell. There is nothing about that promotion that was warranted. The blood thirsty tyrant sends his legions against the merciful who fight to save their lives and to preserve their future. The federation may not have started the war but under what fucking pretense would they believe they have anything on the empire? Blood sucking zombies starve its army of life and laugh it off while they pull men from their homes and scream charge for their amusement as we drop dead in the dust! I… I can’t help but feel so much anger. I’ve never been more angry in my life but I’ve held it inside. I’ve held in every emotion to stop from losing myself. I’m trying to get a grip but I can’t help but feel it slip with a bomb in the ear and a body in the grave there’s nothing that can restore a feeling of evergreen when all you see is blood and grit… I don’t want to linger on these feelings but I already know that with every passing day I’ll see less and less of the people I am near. The fucking assholes and the people of pure heart who I’ve come to appreciate. I knocked down this sorry excuse of a man and although I know he’s a strong man himself I know he won’t survive. He’s the kind of rat that gets caught in the trap just when he thinks he’s got his prize. You can hear it in the way he talks and you can see it in the way he walks. I can’t say I’ll be sad to see him gone. Maybe I’ll have regrets in not doing the job myself. I’m talking out of spite but… I want this war to end. If it wasn’t for you, Markus, and the gang I don’t think I would be fighting for the Federation. I never wanted to come here in the first place but you said you were here. I trusted in that and maybe when you get this letter I won’t be here anymore. Knowing my luck you’ll probably get them when I’m dead or have left to greener pastures… hell who am I kidding. I’ll probably spend my whole life in the Federation if Markus stays there. He says he has a good thing going here. His older sister has a lot of the business “wrapped around her thumb.” I drew a lot of pictures. I’ve secretly been making portraits while most people have been asleep or in the privacy of some corner. Some bastard tried to take my canvas from me and were it not for an NCO getting in the middle of it I probably would have cracked the rest of his ribs… Still… I’m sure you would like them. I’ve got them all in my memory. I’ll just remake them. I’ll try to get some rest. I guess I’ll write again when I’m in the mood. [/color] [/hider] [hr] [color=gray] Franz awoke with a cough. Tired eyes pried open as the blood red sky returned. He was more conscious this time. Something about this place was… familiar. Memories of the past flooded in and he remembered Wagner’s beautiful face turned blackened with darkness and bitterness. Sweat poured down his cheeks in his fever. He felt his face and chest, noting nothing had been destroyed. But there was something ahead as far as he could tell. After gathering himself he approached the door. Exiting the hallway he found himself in the train station, the building behind him gone as he turned to view it. He was just here… Not very long ago it seemed. He retraced his steps and found even the place where he had knocked out that racist. It felt damn good, but… not here. Upon that very same spot laid a corpse, the very same as the man he decked, it seemed. It spiked the man’s adrenaline. With a crack of lightning he whipped his rifle from its resting position. A crack in the clouds. Suddenly a bolt slapped the ground, breaking the foundation with a thunderous roar as from afar came that figure- that damned figure! The mist rolled in, thick as fog. It was smoke of some kind and walking knee deep in it was that man with a mask. Even from where Franz stood he could feel the man staring him down with those bulging goggled eyes. Fingers caressed the clouds of death riding beside him as though they were demons for him to command. A true hell monster wrapped into a uniform. Was this the reaper? Is this what form it possessed? Franz held firm, he remembered what had occurred in the last encounter. He would not budge so quickly this time… it was just a dream… right? Loading his rifle he took aim and dropped to a knee, aiming right for the man’s face as he came closer, walking at a brisk pace with some kind of firearm hidden in the smoke. What was it? He fired the first round, the spinning metal twirling fiercely as it honed in on the man’s skull. He dashed! It missed! Another round prepared as the figure closed the gap. 500 meters. He aimed for the legs this time, he had to stop this advance! Fire! Miss! 400 Meters! The chest? He had to act quickly! Fire! Miss! 300 Meters! How was he so fast? Was he riding the smoke? Fire! Hit! No! It just clipped him! 200 Meters! Shit! Shit! Shit! Don’t let him come any closer! Fire! Miss! Fuck! 100 Meters! Franz took a deep breath. As the next clip loaded in he watched the movement patterns and looked for deviation. On the 3rd step he moved slightly down for two steps. On the 8th step of every dash he moved slightly to the left. On the 12th of every cycle he was moving slightly right. Count… Count… Count! There! Fire! Hit! 5 meters! The running body’s head cracked wide open, the blood spray shooting from the back end as the smoke coated his body in the fall. Panting… Panting… Had he done it? Franz collected himself for the moment, breathing hard with a gasping start. He took slow steps toward the smoke, covering his face as the fog caused him to cough. He thought for a moment and moved away from the center of its strength, no need to waste time here. With that he shifted toward the outside ring, looking for any more of his kind. It didn’t appear so. He needed to leave. The train, he wo- Something touched his shoulder- Turned around abruptly he felt that firearm press against his rib-cage, looking down to it as the smoke hovered but centimeters from his face. He grabbed at it, trying to pull it away as the smoke grabbed his arm. It dispersed and suddenly the man in the mask was there again. There was smoke leaking from his wound where blood should have been. The firearm’s smoke dispersed, revealing a shotgun to be pressing against him as he quickly looked up to face this threat. “It’s my turn, cod.” With a loud boom the insides became outsides with [color=9e0b0f]a flush of metal casings spreading the crimson paint across the canvas[/color]. Eyes widened in relentless fury as the pain was real. It was very real. He gagged on his [color=9e0b0f]blood[/color], the shock settling in as the soldier dropped instantly. Eyes locked onto the ground which turned into a dusty area. His mind tried to process the pain he was struggling through. He tried to gasp but found nothing there. He needed something- anything as the world grew darker. He looked around with his eyes and… the birds? Vultures landing upon… the bodies… it couldn’t be… was he… the trench? He couldn’t… focus… Eyes flickered as his tongue came loose with rag-dolled limbs. He couldn’t control himself anymore. He simply laid there in that pit underneath a body above him. Then there was a loud clap of a boot touching near his face. Vision was becoming blurry and it doubled. He felt numb... so very numb. The boot’s tip grabbed the side of his nose pulling his face to look at the man in the mask who held a pump action casually. He tilted his head, staring at Franz as if to judge him proper before listening to the call of other voices. At that moment the man in the mask looked to the voices, to Franz, and then removed his boot from the solider. Steps faded as the man left, only the smoke left behind. [/color] [hr] [color=Silver] Franz awoke with a gasp, feeling pain in his chest as he stood from his sleeping spot. He fell to his side trying to recover and listened as a soldier looked his way. [color=white] "Don't jerk it too hard, private. Got a march to catch." [/color] The door of the train closed. Franz snapped. Slamming the door open from a rushed stumble upward he looked for the soldier, breathing heavily as soldiers looked to him oddly. He ran through the cart, shoving aside a poor boy in the way and digging through the crowd to find that bastard! He had to be giving him these nightmares! He had to be! Swimming through the current he found himself going nowhere, checking every face, nook, and cranny before ending up right behind his squad with no sight of that bastard… Was he… Oh god… Franz trembled internally at the prospect of madness settling in. Paranoia crept and crawled on his back as he took deep breaths as quietly as possible. He needed to be an anchor… He had to be an anchor for his squad. He couldn’t lose it. Not here. Not now. Just… march… Focus on the… march… As time went on Franz considered what he had gone through and remembered that they were supposed to get off the train about this time anyway. He had shoved a boy trying to get off and now that he realized that he felt rather bad. He was surprised some officer didn’t break his face in and somehow he got away from punishment yet again. What he stole in reality he paid for ahead of time in dreams. Was this some kind of morality check? Maybe it just happened to be massive coincidences… But why the man in the mask? Who was he? Did he matter? Was it some kind of… oh what were they called? Harbinger? He was pulled out of reality for the longest until the sudden crash of the waves sent him on edge again. He watched as death carved holes into those poor souls. The fallen crashing into the world with speeds unholy. This slaughter was merciless. Yet… as the dust settled and the blood soaked the ground Franz felt something interesting within. Nothing. It was hard to describe, he supposed, but he looked upon the corpses and felt nothing. Was it the shock? Was it just trauma overdone? He saw soldiers commanded to their death and he couldn’t help but feel nothing. In fact, he laughed a little thinking about it further. Here they were to play this little game of life and death with orders to rush into certain death. He felt something trying to claw its way out from his throat. Piercing his tongue into an upright position with strained movements as it slammed claws into the roof of his mouth, causing his neutral gaze to undertake a narrowed, furious expression. The claws tried to climb out from the mouth, teeth clamping onto said claws before they could escape. Franz bit down on his wrath. He clutched his teeth and grit hard with a deep growl brewing beneath. Blood-lust swirled into his mind as the madness split into joy and anger. Joy and anger that he had to suppress within but a broken mind doing the job for him as once more he felt nothing. As soon as it came the feelings were fleeting. Neutrality overtook him once more as he pulled out his pack of Brimstone and lit a stick knowing those lives wouldn’t be coming back. He had to move on. Death was a shock to all, but as he spent more time near it and as he remembered the many he had lost he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he was growing numb to it. That was a bad thing, surely, but it was truth, he thought. As he traveled he seemed to forget where he even was, focused on keeping himself in check. Check… He had to check on his friends. He moved to talk with Michael… although he was busy with Lucia it seemed. There was Jean and Kalisa, which, seemed rather inevitable at this point. They would make a good pair, maybe. Diana and Reyna there as well… Well, he supposed he would just lurk behind, watch over the herd for now. There wasn’t anything of interest- or was there? Something which brought attention to his eyes was a new Darcsen. She was attractive as well. Rough around the edges, yes, but from where he stood it seemed as though she had seen her own share of troubles. He could relate. Not to be rude, he ought to introduce himself to the Darscen. Jean had enough girls to deal with anyhow, pulling one off him for a moment wouldn’t hurt. Still… He thought about Green Fox. He had read about the man when he was studying in the Federation. An esteemed sniper with feared hunting prowess. He had heard so called professionals and military experts say that he was just a tool of the empire. That his ability was exaggerated for propaganda and his fame but a ruse. Franz knew better, however, because his research on the man as well as personal experience stories from the few Imperials he had come across had something to say of the man, although none were too willing to say much more than needed. Throughout the beginning of the war he had heard of a man slaughtering Feds that matched up with his research. It was him. He could use that information to stay alive. But… He was a hero if he was being honest. Franz loved Green Fox. He was an idol that never lost his shine. But this Middleton would probably sacrifice them to try and kill his hero… His hero… Even though he wanted to keep his allies safe he didn’t want Fox to die. He had too much emotional investment in that great man. If the time came… Focus, Franz. Franz approached Inès calmly, flicking his cigarette ashes to the side as he pipped up. [color=#0d4a87] “Welcome to hell, I’m your tour guide: Franz Blau. Good to see another Darcsen.” [/color] He offered his free hand to her, a proper shake in order as he maintained a mostly neutral expression. He even offered her a cigarette.[/color]