[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 27th - [b]The Scouting Mission[/b][/i][/color][/sub] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTVU7wIERzQ[/youtube] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] Within his proximity, Thomas and their fellow Darcsen talked away, chuckling lightly to one another whilst assorting their preparations for the task ahead. Preparations... That was all anyone could do? But could one soldier really prepare himself for what was out there? Out [i]there[/i] was more than just war. There was horror, death, destruction and an inhumane embodiment of mental instability. Thousands died. Millions could have, dare Jean predict. Bleeding wounds gaping open, spraying ichor without rest, these were plaguing not only the streets of Amone but also the entire lands of Francia. Europa was a mess. No war before had been fought on such a scale. Families were torn apart by the day and yet here he was, as well as his squad, standing and preparing to go out once more into the fray. They all knew that one day their luck would run out, or that a stray marksman would strike at their skull without a second warning, and yet they still went out. Time and time again. Jean was just pretending to be a good soldier, one who followed orders. What were those orders? Jean revised them in his head again and again, time and time over. He wanted to memorise every single bit of knowledge he had in order to stay alive. Scout ahead. Find pathways. Check defences. Leave. Scout ahead. Find pathways. Check defences. Leave. Map it all out. Mentally, it sounded just as easy as any other dull operation. But this was Amone. Amone was a festival of gnashing violence. There was no way it would be that simple. His mind had raced off to another cosmos. Making such an impression on his soldiers would be imprudent, disloyal and damaging to them to, or simply damaging to his reputation. Jean didn't want them to lose hope. In a way, hope was the main benefactor to driving them forward. Life was meaningless without hope. It fuelled their motives and gave them purpose. But when there was no hope, what happened then? Did they hollow out and become empty? All these darkened questioned flushed his mind, draining his concentrated thoughts back down into an imaginary gutter. Dash! Dash it all! Jean didn't want or need these thoughts to cloud his judgement. A task needed to be done. Potentially, this could save many more lives, or prepare those to avoid confrontation the following morning. Peppering showers continued to dribble onto their helmets and only a thin slice of cloth above their heads sheltered them from the majority of the downpour. Trickling patters soaked the metallic frames of their helmets and cleansed their rifles of any grime, dirt or dust. A perfect day for the imperfect weather; pathetic fallacy was a strong omen to the world. Finally, Jean clicked the bolt of his Longfield into place and dipped the tips of his fingers in a small tin of chalk laid about. Staff Sergeant Baker had introduced the sort of small strategy to help increase grip on rifles, though most soldiers claimed it was irritating. Jean didn't mind. The feel of chalk reminded him that he still had fingers. And if he still had fingers, he could still shoot. And if he could still shoot...he could still kill. Marauders of the war could still be made out in the distance, screeching in the forms of artillery shells, blasting gunshots or mechanical movement. Even as early in the morning as then, there was still some form of battle, near and far, that raged on. War had never been seen on such a vast scale. Jean found it...almost poetic. As technology grew and the ragnite stocks rose, promising riches and technological enhancement for all of humanity, it all came crashing down in a tragic twist of events. Hunters sought hunters, and prey found its own prey. Europa was never the most peaceful continent in the world, but neither was it the most volatile. But now, could the same be said? Such a romanticised idea of the nations battling it out, one last time to see who would claim the final victory for humanity, troubled Jean's view on it. It was definitely truthful that this was to perceived as the last war. The 'Great' War, so to speak, had the potential to be so damaging that no one would pledge violence again. But humans weren't like that. Jean wasn't a romanticist, not anymore. His writing had changed and his methods followed. Realistic writing, accounting his life and his days numbering away made for his pass time. With his mind set on writing, he opened his pocketbook and scribbled down more notes, notifying the events of the morning and sharing his thoughts to the vast audiences he never had. These private thoughts were never to be read, unless he made it through the war in one or two functioning pieces.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Dash it all."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He repeated the phrase within his mind, then spouting it upon his moistened lips, over several times.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"It's a Scouting Mission, Jean. Someone...has to do it. And they will, and it will be us who does it. Protecting lives is what we have to do."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] Even if it meant ending a few? Perhaps. Jean didn't intend on getting into conflict during their scout and scavenge of the enemy defences, but sometimes it was unavoidable and inevitable, just like war itself. Diplomacy was likely not an option. The only neutral zone of the entire city had been wiped out, scrapped and torn to shreds. Gas had once plastered the streets and hundreds of men, women and non-combatants were choked for the sake of a dirty experiment. Soldiers the previous night spoke of gas being used on a wider scale elsewhere on the frontline, as well as a large import heading off to the Principality of Gallia, their unlikely ally in all of this chaos. Of course, the constitutional monarchy over there would dare shower such hatred on their foes. After all, their backs were far closer to the wall than anyone else's. To his right, he saw Victoria and Luke finally join the scene and brace themselves. Jean took a peak at his stopwatch, tied to a bronze chain that hung from within his pocket. 0457 hours. Zero hour was nearly there. They had little time to prepare and get set, and now the daunting task was to come. Jean walked around, clipping and tightening the straps on his helmet and fixing his webbing once more. He wasn't scared, just anxious. There was plenty to be anxious about. He may lose his life, or he'd have to watch someone else fall in battle. Best case scenario, no lives would be lost in this mission, including the Imperial enemy. But the world was never fair, and Jean prepared himself mentally for the possibility of a conventional engagement, even if it meant getting his fists up close and personal. Once his gear was completely in check, he walked to the quad-who'd be accompanying him. Corporal Thomas Carter, Private Victoria White, Private Luke Godfrey and Private Inès Levesque. An unlikely assembly, but a rugged one indeed. All followed characteristics. It was better for Luke to volunteer himself for the group, as it made choosing the rest of the accomplices less stressful and more straight-forward.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Gather up, last minute briefing."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He at least tried to keep things professional, no matter how badly he made it sound. Either way, he was a compassionate soldier. Even seeing the ones he hated die was something of a nightmare.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"We'll be out there for about an hour or two. No confirmation on when or what's going to be out there, but that's our job to figure it out. We'll avoid confrontation, mark down anything worth noting and head back once we've gotten the eight [i]sectors[/i] written down. Keep pens and pencils, all of us are gonna make a note of what we see. Can't afford to lose the booklet with all the writing down in a firefight."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] As Jean walked by them all, slinging his rifle over his right shoulder, he felt Thomas' hand gently tap his back. When turning to meet his eyes, the two shared a sort of compassionate nod, as if to say [i]let's do this[/i]. Thomas seemed to have that look in his face all the time. One of confidence, one of morale-boosting charisma. If only Jean had that sort of charm, he'd be trusted by his own soldiers. Moving to the barricade of wooden stacks, sandbags and other scavenged layers, Jean lined everyone up behind him and stood by the nearest exit point. As the sentries on duty moved and began to clear the way for them to walk through, Staff Sergeant Baker moved to Jean and nodded kindly, trying his best to ease the mood. If it were another Captain, Jean would've disregarded his intentions and sold their kindness for aggression, but Baker wasn't so much of a bad guy. He'd done this himself, time and time again. He was fluent in the war, but not atoned to it as enough to lose his sanity. He was a man, and one who was the same as he'd been at the start of the war.[/color] [color=Orange][b]"Just a minute to go. You'll do fine, lads."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Quietly, he waved his hands towards the sentries, silently informing them to double their timing and to remove the barricade quicker. Even in the dawn of the morning dew, it was wise to keep things quiet as to not disturb the slumbering assassins that stalked their every motion.[/color] [color=Orange][b]"Take care, keep your head on your shoulders and get us some good information. If you can't, just get back and play things safe. Chin up. Head down. Eyes forward. You've got this, scouts."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] Finally, the barricade was cleared, and the walk of pity began. Jean moved first, hoping the others would follow behind as he unslung his rifle and clutched it within his chalky hands. Either side of them, a pathway-like canyon of sentries watched them intently, their eyes speaking for them in their gratitude for them going, instead of anyone else. Scouting missions were listed in the same lethality of raiding parties, though lower down on the spectrum due to no guarantee of conflict. Their formation was to be spread across the road, giving them freedom to duck into cover. Jean and Thomas would hold the centre-most areas of the formation to lessen the dangers of their squadmates, simply out of the audacity of their survival. Jean whipped himself clean of any negative thoughts. The time to focus was now. This could be a smooth mission, it just needed him to remain calm. [centre][b]---[/b][/centre] An hour passed. An entire hour they'd been out there, scavenging the wastes of the city streets. Part of their journey was unrecognisable. Scattered bricks and tonnes of unremarkable debris piles plastered the ground and roads around them. There was nothing short of destruction, and devastation didn't shy away from revealing itself. With every careful step, Jean felt himself silently growing closer to a mechanical churn coming from the general direction of the Imperial Frontline. Where did that frontline start? No one truly knew. There was no trench or general line of barbed wire to lay it out and mark down such a location. Instead, their instincts would have to check. Either way, so far was so good. Every now and then, Jean would signal his hands for one of the party members to check a house or two, making sure the rooms were empty. What they found in there could've been anything. Pre-war trinkets, small coins, photos of families and more than they'd found beforehand, regardless civilisation was barren and nullified by the aggressive aftermath of a large battle. Jean kept his head low, knowing that they were approaching the final street. Before them stood several large church towers, acting as holy beacons that supposedly guided the way for pilgrims to the Cathedral of Light. Its silhouette had been made out in the distance many times before, but never had it been seen up close. Jean yearned for such a sight, but the upcoming battle would surely force them to battle within its sacred lands. Confined like rats in a tunnel, they pressed on. Jean took a knee, taking a break as he listened out into the dawn's movement. He could hear strange engines burning away fumes like no more. A rumbling slander of Imperial machinery preparing its movement from point A to point B. None seemed to head in their direction nor did the sound of foot-soldiers. For a while, it felt like the city was completely abandoned, or potentially being evacuated, but Jean knew that the Empire was simply fortifying a concentrated area for the best possible defence. They knew an attack was coming. It was obvious. It was just a case of how fast they could prepare for it, or perhaps provoke it. Jean pointed to yet another building, writing down their latest findings of deactivated anti-personnel mines laid around, previously exploded. Bullet casings, though not very fresh ones, were still scattered around, and the remnants of sandbagged machine gun nests were laid in peace to remind the party that this had once been a terrible bottleneck. Not anymore, they hoped. Not anymore. Once he pointed to the building, he looked to the Darcsen and the Oceanic woman, signalling his hands and speaking in a loud whisper.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Check the building, make sure it's clear then see if you can spot anything in the distance or further down the road. Write down if you see any defences, soldiers or whatnot. Just head back once you're clear and we'll proceed to the final street corner, then we can get the fuck out of here."[/b][/color] [centre][sub][@Yam I Am][@Smike][@Jacky][/sub][/centre]