[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181223/ff8bde1d7486adffc986d690d075a416.png[/img]

[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 9th - [b]What it truly means to be human[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
[hr][/centre]

[color=Silver]	Freya listened to what Inès had to say, mostly about her realisation of what they'd descended to. As a long-term soldier, one who'd fought for three years on the bloody battlefields of another continental war, the Oceanic lass herself had never gone a day herself without questioning and realising the same deformations of her human reality. People on the frontlines were too afraid to do anything worthwhile, whether that meant living or dying in the wondrous trenches. After seeing the slight passing of distress onto acceptance, Freya shook her head and let out her own glum huff of air. It was a true mental struggle and battle itself to really maintain the truth behind her personality, morals and virtues. Jean was a clear example of someone struggling to hold onto that true nature, yet Freya was the polar opposite. She'd fought for so long and lost so much that it wasn't a case of pretending that everything was going to be okay, it was simply accepting that the world was full of disappointment. As a naive teenager, to a young adult, she'd enlisted on her own accord into the war and had lost so much in those three years. Inès was clearly someone still struggling to find her own pretty little place in this god-forsaken shit show that was the Great Europan war, to which there was nothing great about it by any means, and Freya resonated with that past trauma she'd felt herself. Being conscious, understanding of the true human nature in the battlefields was terrifying, and losing yourself to the endless barrages of bullets, artillery shells and mortars was enough to break down even the strongest of men.

	With a quick shake of the head, Freya chuckled lightly to herself, though there was a hint of pain in that small expression of laughter. It was difficult to understand, and for Freya it was even harder to express her explanation in words that anyone else could fully take an understanding toward. The world was a fucking dreadful place, but for some reason Freya always thought to never pretend that everything was okay, but to simply take what little privileges she had and to express them when she wasn't on the frontlines.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"It's a dreadful thing, war. To battle the inner demons and the wretched that stand before you is something completely different, and can be more damaging than the war alone. But...I've just learnt to get on with it. Someday, and at some point, this will all be over. I don't know whether I'll be there to see it through, but there'll be a future when a man, woman or child can at least get by without having to worry about conscription, conflict or all that other shit. A...A friend of mine, Naomi, well...she always smiled, no matter what the situation was."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]For a short moment, Freya staggered in her speech, having not mentioned that name for months on end out of fear of breaking down. But here, Naomi could at least be able to produce a lesson, or simply a way of dealing with the stress of the battle.[/color] [color=FF0202][b]"The battle will break us. The war will shatter us. But if there's one thing that you need to remain human, it's to enjoy the company of those around you, the ones you find kindness and warmth being with. The battlefield does terrible things to people of all walks of life, but to look at the ones you love, like and work alongside is important for keeping your humanity. When the time comes, you'll be able to express your true selves towards those you grow close towards, just as I did."[/b][/color]

[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img]

[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 9th - [b]Push on[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
[hr][/centre]

[color=Silver]	There was nothing in this world that could've ever brought Jean's mind to rest in that moment. For every second that passed, a strong ache pumped blood through the veins of his skull and dove them straight back down into hell only seconds later. With every breath was the trembling sensation of instability, unbreakable distrust in his own morality and the inability to put faith in the world around him. The war had truly taken its load and burdened the entire package onto Squad 1's backs, with Jean left to carry the entire excess weight around with him. People around him had been shot, injured in the fighting or broken by the unending siege that had just taken place. There was tension in the warm eyes of those who'd once been innocent. For a minute, even Lucia held a grim look that vouched for vengeful intent. Imperial bodies were still scattered throughout the streets and within the empty rooms that the Squad had previously been held up in, holding nothing more than a silent presence to further expunge the free and pure air of the building. Jean's eyes met Lucia's for a moment, to which they both shared an innate sense of grief and punishment. Had the world flipped itself once more for everyone? Perhaps, but Jean was still adamant to make what little he had left in the world count. There was no longer a family waiting for him back home, nor was there a chance for resting and relaxing when the war finally would come to its conclusion. A life of misery seemingly laid its pavement for him, and there were only a few who could've truly saved him from such a devastating fate. Even though he had his eyes on two close allies in particular, Jean never fully felt justified to talk to them or share his compassion, as he could imagine their stress to see him leeching off of their beauty, success, grace and innocence in order to find comfort in the terrible existence he now suffered from. To Jean, it was unlikely that they would ever look at him with the same love he may have felt for them.

	One of the worst skirmishes that accompanied the cognitive war he'd been suffering from was the justification for killing. Right now, all he had to really continue pulling the trigger time and time again was the will to survive, that natural human instinct that would kick in for his own personal safety. However, with every man or woman he'd dropped onto the floor through the gun's explosive shot, their ghosts were left to lay upon him whenever he slept, dreamt or even thought. Were these Imperials really the enemy? Obviously he could not say such suicidal thoughts out loud, as many would look at him with either a sense of hypocrisy or a punishing glance for sympathising with the invading force. However, to Jean, these were just the same people in the same situations as the Federation troops were. Some were likely conscripted into the army, being promised great pay and a prosperous life afterwards to commemorate their victories, yet here they were going through the thickest of wastelands just to achieve such destinies. Whilst it was a common consensus to see the Imperials as savage killers, even Jean couldn't understand why they weren't taking into account the younger generations that wanted to go home to their families, or were scared of truly being killed on these battlefields, which many of them were. How many families had Jean torn apart to save his own, now orphaned life. It was only a miracle that the Francian was to turn 18 years of age in a few days, because if he were to return home there'd be no future waiting for him.

	With his heavy boots cluttering against the weak floorboards, Jean approached the barely visible windows, watching the rain continue its descent upon the street. Blood had now begun to soak into the sewage system, draining away with the other litres of water to go with it. Those who'd been killed in the firefight were left, mostly face down, in the cobbled floors of the road or pavement. Casings and bullet shells were seen scattered along every corner, from either the automatic fire of the Federation gunners or the Imperial armoured vehicle, whilst a lot of webbing, unexploded ragnite grenades, letters to the home, olden newspapers left behind from past civilisations, debris from the collapsed buildings and sweep of the winds left the world outside their hiding space a desolate, and apocalyptic, ghost town. In the daylight, now clouded overhead with endless miles of mist, there was nothing but a darkness amongst the roads of Amone. Jean was scared to continue, and he wiped another tear from his eye, hoping no one saw him shed another tear anymore than what Kalisa had unfortunately seen.

	He held his bandaged hand close to his chest, still feeling a searing pain from ever second it throbbed and robbed him of his own blood. Every moment was like torture, but after a while the cut would surely heal itself. Without the appropriate field-dressing stations further behind the Federation lines, there was nothing more they could really do than just dress up the wound and hope for the best. It was more of a gamble for someone like Michael, who still had the potential of dying if he'd lost too much blood before it was attended towards. Same went for Thomas, it seemed. Either way, Jean sighed and looked towards his soldiers, those who seemed to painstakingly follow him for advice and guidance on the frontlines. And with a rather trembled hand, he removed his helmet, letting his long Darcsen hair finally spread out and hand loose across his neck. Finally, he began to open his mouth again, knowing that Isaac's group had finally returned. At first he directed his words towards Isaac himself, who was awfully curious about what had happened.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"They..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He sighed heavily, deciding to euphemise the entire bloody details to the bludgeoning they'd taken.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"They stormed the building. There's...nothing more to say. Just...prepare to head out, Lance Corporal. You helped a lot in that skirmish. T-thanks..."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Without having much more to say on the matter, afraid that he may find himself breaking down into tears once more whilst being pressured to recuperate the memories he wished to forget forever, Jean turned back to the rest of the Squad, still talking amongst themselves, resting, taking a breather or reflecting on the recent scourge they'd been thrown into. He was plagued with broken irises as he stared many of them straight into their own eyes, bleeding his pain into them. It was sorrowful to think that this generation of young adults were being forced into committing atrocities beyond the human morality relevance. There wasn't much to really point out other than they were fucked, royally, and that their innocent lives of growing up would be forever tainted. Whether they'd grown up under the protection of a rich family or tussled with the hardest street thugs beforehand, the war was everything worse than those hardships. And so, Jean looked towards them for further psychic assistance, before finally clearing his throat to get their attention.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Uhh...r-right. Michael and Thomas, get in the middle of the group. Shocktroopers will take point and lead the way, whilst the rest of us...just keep up and watch every corner there is. We're...gonna move around the outskirts of the street ways. It...it might delay our arrival time to our objective by a few days, but...I...I can't risk us anymore than we are. The tunnels will have to wait, whether the fucking...fucking commanders care or not."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He tensed his hands, clenching them into angered fists, only to unclench them immediately once his bandaged hand began to hurt more than before. Jean gritted his teeth and sighed heavily, attempting to calm himself down. Clearly, he was no longer the same person. Conflicting emotions of great trauma and sadness were starting to show the side effects of frustration and stress, but what could anyone else do.

	For a moment, Jean looked down to his webbing and hips, seeing the strange mask still looking up at him with more dust and soot laid across its lenses. He was truly in a muse over what it could've possibly been for, or why they'd been given it, but Jean knew by all means that there was a plan or purpose to its servicing. Either way, he felt as if the mask reflected his face perfectly: a still image without any proper emotion. The only times he seemed to feel any sense of realistic emotion was when he looked into the adoring eyes of Kalisa or Reyna, who still were the only two to give him the biggest light. Every time he thought of them, it did help ease his pain, but he still felt like they were never going to like someone as broken and irresponsible as Jean was as a Corporal. What else would they expect from someone as cowardly as everyone seemed to brandish him as?

	And so, with his order in set, Jean put his helmet back on and slung his rifle around his shoulders, beginning to walk forward. Amone was a labyrinth of streets and underpasses, where nowhere really seemed like the right way to go. All the signs had been torn down during the Imperial occupation of Amone to ensure that potential spies, or future liberators, from the Federation would have a harder time navigating the entire maze as much as they had originally. Jean knew the name of their destination, but not the directions, and it was a case of simply trying to find it to the best of their ability. There were still pockets of Federation soldiers and strongholds located throughout the entire city, so there was a chance that Squad 1 could encounter one to set them on their way, but that was hopefully by chance. Knowing Jean's luck, they'd be dead before they saw another friendly face ever again. And with that in mind, they began their walk into the rainy day.[/color]

[centre][hr][sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 10th, 0104 hours - [b]Push on[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
[hr][/centre]
[color=Silver]	Jean waddled through the cold night, rain still beating down upon the Squad as they silently wandered through the blackened streets of Amone's districts. Where they were now was beyond any of them, but one this was for sure, they were out in the open and running out of energy. The rain made their uniforms heavier and harder to move in any flexible way. All of the downpour was getting to them, and the watches and several broken clocks listed in crumbling homes said that it was beyond midnight, beyond a time they should've been roaming the streets. Whilst activity was at its lowest then, there were still rumours of Imperial [i]Twilight Soldiers[/i], specialised in combat during the night. Whether or not they were a scare ploy from the Imperials to stop attacks during the dead of the moonlight or whether they were true, Jean didn't want to have anything to do with those chances and instead looked for an alternative option.

	Before the fatigued squad was a crumbled building. However, it had a roof still, and inside there were some small rooms on a raised upper floor. It'd be safer from the flooding rainfall still beating down upon the earth, by far, and so Jean simply walked ahead, taking the first strides up the sloped rubble to reach the upper floors. Once inside, there was a shielding from above, protecting the group from the rain. The night ran cold and the distant, yet infrequent, echoes of a rifle shot or two could be heard in the distance. Marksmen were sometimes in their prime during the night, so taking cover was a priority for Jean and the others.

	Inside was a complex of several rooms. Almost all of them lacked furniture and bedding, most had only piles of bricks or torn curtains to lie down on. Even though there were still signs of life in the forms of a stray cat or two, it felt as if they'd wandered into yet another graveyard for the fallen civilians and soldiers of Amone. Dust and soot plagued every corner whilst the shadows of the moonlight barely reached every corner. Some of the doors were still luckily on their hinges, albeit barely, and were still awaiting to be used. Jean wandered first, putting his life in potential jeopardy, with his rifle raised. One by one, he wandered into the rooms, preparing for the potential sign of Imperial life to gun down on the spot. Luckily, for the poor Francian, there was no sign of any human life, or death, amongst the several rooms they had to choose form. Once he'd analysed them all, even checking the structure integrity with a few boot stamps on the floor, he re-emerged outside with his face as glum as ever.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Everyone, inside."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]In his loud whisper, Jean started to course everyone towards the inside of the building. It wasn't exactly home, but it'd have to do. Either way, he knew everyone wanted to be alone and tired, sleeping amongst their friends against the cold floors to rest their fatigued bodies. They'd barely been lucky on the 9th, and now the 10th had even more possibilities of death, now that they'd wandered deeper into the world of Amone. For a moment, he met his eyes with Reyna's, whose shone out brightly even in the midnight sky, before returning his gaze to the floor.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"There's only two or three bed frames. I-Injured get priority. Everyone else...s-sorry you're gonna have to go on the floor. I'm going to t-take night watch. No questions to be asked about it. Just...get your rest everyone, we have a...a dangerous day tomorrow, most likely. If anyone needs me, I'll...be in this chair...with my rifle...and my...thoughts."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean's voice slowly brittled away into a small mumble, where he pulled up the somewhat uncomfortable chair and placed it somewhere outside the rooms. The position wasn't exposed to snipers, though it did hold some good reconnaissance possibilities if he continued to watch out from it. He wasn't sure if anyone was going to come to talk to him, seeing how tired everyone seemed to be, but he couldn't sleep. Not him. Never him. He couldn't sleep. Thoughts of the couple, his family and now his friends were lurking on his mind. Since he'd left Hill 58, he'd suppressed the emotions that his family were now gone, and made now hint to react to it, but now..? It was breaking him. Once everyone was inside, Jean sat on the floor, not even bothering to go in the chair, and stared blankly out into the night street, waiting for some sort of light to finally reach him.[/color]

[centre][sub][@Bushman501][@Jacky][@Yam I Am][@Conscripts][@CFProxy][@FalloutJack][@Brithwyr][@SMS][@Landaus Five-One][@Daxam][/sub][/centre]