|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 5:04 pm
R ixaka the Fallen & D ust_in_Darkness
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 5:19 pm
B r i e f - H i s t o r y
1935
xxxMarch
xxxxx* Germany begins re-armament, in contravention of the Treaty of Versailles at the end of World War I.
1936
xxxMarch
xxxxx* German troops re-occupy the Rhineland in contravention of the Locarno Treaty.
1938
xxxMarch
xxxxx* German forces march into Austria, annexing the country.
xxxSeptember
xxxxx* Germany annexes the Sudetenland of Czechoslovakia, on the signing of the Munich Agreement by Germany, Britain, France, and Italy.
1939
xxxMarch
xxxxx* Germany annexes the remainder of Czechoslovakia.
xxxAugust
xxxxx* Germany and Russia sign a ten-year non-aggression alliance.
xxxSeptember
xxxxx* German armed forces begin an intensive attack on Poland, with aerial bombing of several cities, troop movement into Polish territory, xxxxxxxand naval bombardment of Danzig.
xxxxx* England and France declare war on Germany.
xxxxx* Canada declares war on Germany.
xxxxx* Russian armies invade Poland, part of a secret agreement with Germany to share Polish territory.
xxxNovember
xxxxx* The Soviet Union attacks Finland, following Finland's refusal to cede territory near Leningrad.
S e t t i n g
Main Setting:
A British Air Base Near London England.
Skies over Germany.
- - -
Battle Fronts in Sicily, Italy and France (quite possibly).
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 5:58 pm
C h a r a c t e r sRixaka the FallenCharacter's Full Name: James (Jimmy) Thompson
Age: Eighteen
Sex: Male
Appearance: Jimmy
Position: PilotDust_in_DarknessCharacter’s Name: Mark Summers
Age: Twenty
Sex: Male
Appearance: Preparing for Takeoff
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 7:34 pm
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
November 21st 1939
'Its the beginning of a war and not just any war, a world war.'
Nothing but grey skies and the pitter-patter of on and off rain, drizzling down the side of the jeep. The clear drops painted the windows with streams of water, dribbling down the side as the tires rolled through the puddles at a top speed of eighty. The highway was barren, one paved strip of land dotted with yellow dashes, not a soul in sight. It was dismal to say the least, knowing that you've signed up for a crash course in fighting only to be flung into battle, the mud catching, sucking your feet in so deep that it becomes more of a struggle to move then to be shot down by friendly or enemy fire. That was the thing about war though, no one really say a victory. Thousands had already died, more innocents executed by band fire of a rifle or a hand gun, it didn't matter, just another body, just another number. War was numbers, big numbers, small numbers and something just didn't add up.
'Why do we bother fighting in the first place?' Those were the thoughts of James at the age of ten. He didn't understand and, like ever boy nearing the age of puberty, he had thousands of questions each lined up in his little head waiting to be answered.
A tree spun, unfurling in the wind as the truck whipped down the black highway. His thoughts were lost once again, the decaying greenery around him deeming perfect for the months of war that laid ahead. A sudden spark, a thought that had yet to resurface in his mind appeared, like lightening.
'I'm going to like Papa! I want to be a soldier!' At the age of thirteen he was a rogue, or so claimed his mother. They had remembered the day and time exactly when he had claimed to want to join the military just like his father. It was just like any other boy around the country, always buying into the glory of the gory wars, the flags, the triumphant trumpets ringing him in as a hero. He wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to shoot the bad guys dead. He wanted to be the hero of the world but most importantly, he wanted to be like his late dad. The dad that he had never really known.
His father was a pilot in the first World War, one that had never lived long enough to see his boy grow up. All that were left were dusted memories and a box of medals.
It was odd, even now that Jimmy had decided to follow his announcement of five years ago. German and allies were advancing on Poland, the war was only just beginning and thousands were dying every minute.
"Hey! Jim, snap out of it you moron!" snapped a black haired man from the black as he slapped Jimmy across the back of the head.
"Hey idiot, what was that for?!" Jimmy exclaimed as his head twisted around from the front passenger's seat to stare devil-eyed at the smart a** in the back.
"I was talking to you, or did you just happen to tune me out, mush for brains!"
'What a smart-a** reply...' "Roger cut it out you a**, can't you see I'm thinking?"
"Who ya thinking about, your girlfriend?" Roger snorted as he took a drag on his white, finely rolled cigarette. "Or how about some of that foreign a**?"
"Roger, cut it out!" Jimmy fumed, blushing darkly as he turned around in his seat.
"And now that I have the air-head James' attention I would like to announce a thing or two!"
Jimmy rolled his eyes and propped his head on his hand, staring blankly out the window. If he could give up anything, he would, just to be able to return home one day, the war over, his family safe and smiling and that one person, the one of the photograph in his pocket in his arms.
After all, why would a man go to war now of all times?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 20, 2010 9:41 pm
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill ---------This place was not home. It was cold and lonely. And for some reason everything here had to be so damn wet. It was impossible to go outside without your clothes becoming damp. No. This place was by no means the home that Mark had once known. Shivering a bit, the dark haired solder tried to think of better days. When he thought about the way things used to be, it cheered him up a bit. It was enough to keep him going until he remembered where he was.
---------At times like these Mark had considered flying a plane across the Atlantic straight back to Arizona. Oh, to feel the rays of the warm sun again... Logically, he knew he would not even make it half way before running out of gas. The only thing that would wait for him would be a dark watery grave. It was hardly the way he wanted to go. Still, there were times when he thought that it was worth the suicidal risk. Planning his way back to the states kept him occupied for the most part. It was one of the few things keeping him still sane. During battle he would often fantasize about giving himself an injury; a quick bullet in the leg should do the trick. At the least he would be shipped out for a few weeks. The lucky ones got to go home. So why was it so hard to pull the trigger? He had shot down plenty of German planes. He had killed men just like him. Was he that much of coward that he could not even consider putting himself through the pain?
---------He reasoned that the stress of such news would ruin his mother. Remembering her face it was impossible not to recall the look she had after his brother’s death. That torn expression. Those defeated shoulders. On top of that there was that feeling of never being able to help. Realizing that there was nothing that would ever bring his older brother, his role model, back was a bitter medication. That had been the whole reason why he had joined this insanity to begin with. Revenge. He had wanted to kill as many Nazis as humanly possible. Then he would be a hero. What a stupid idea he thought with a bit of acidity. Now that he was here, there was hardly anything he would to go back.
---------The enemy probably had the same desire to return home deep down inside them. Nobody really wanted to fight. They just did. Orders are orders he would tell himself, Follow them and you’ll eventually get back to where you wanna go. Besides it was easier to think about them as just being targets. Picturing them as the devils painted across all the tabloids was much easier than looking at the real deal. Once you had a face in your head it was impossible to get out. With every face came a name. A family. A story. In the end, every death brought you a little closer to that never-ending guilt. It was just a tiny step closer to breaking down completely. It brought him that much that much closer to pulling that trigger. Maybe the next death would be the one that finally led him to do it. But really, who could honestly tell?
---------“Hey! Jim snap out of it, you moron!” A voice called out. Even though the call was meant for another, it was loud enough to catch his attention. As Roger went off on one of his usual rants Mark could be thankful that he was not the subject of ridicule. It seemed that the one thing Roger was good at was talking. Perhaps I the solder did less of that he might actually realize one day that nobody really ever listened. It must be a sort of coping method. Some blabbed on and on while others fanaticized about pulling the trigger. It might be better for him to pick up a similar habit. Must be healthier that way.
---------"And now that I have the air-head James' attention I would like to announce a thing or two!"
---------“Just get on with it already." he said becoming a bit testy."Some of us are actually trying to rest, believe it or not!” His patients had gotten a bit thin due to the lack of sleep. At least that was what he would like to reason it to. In truth these last few months had made him callous. Much more than he would like to admit. In this world you had to be tough. A nice attitude would only get you so far.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 21, 2010 12:33 pm
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
Dark...damp...
Jimmy was already back to day dreaming before Roger tore another conversation from his bitter, rather loud lips. "Hey, look whose up! Now we've got everyone awake and rearing to go!" he chuckled, inhaling another stick of cancer before stamping the bud out into the ash tray located in the door.
"Roger, if you wouldn't mind shutting your trap for a moment, I'd like to get some driving done here." Replied Gus from the driver's seat. He was a rather tall individual, heavy set and strong, not the kind of guy you want to mess with especially when he had already seen the battle field and come back with more then just scars. "And if its something stupid about your fiancé then I don't want to hear it, got it?"
Jimmy sighed a breath of relief, for a moment he almost believed that Roger would shut up.
"What's up with you Gus? I thought your lovely lady was rooting for you back home, or are the rumours true and that b***h has been making with the corp."
Jimmy slumped, nope, he wasn't going to shut up any time soon.
Gus jerked the wheel to the side send all three passengers against the nearest window or person. Jimmy ate glass, his cheek bouncing off the window before his forehead jerked forward. "Gus, cut the crap, drive straight!" Roger snapped, spit flying from his lips, the only other thing insulting the driver other then his words.
Gus jerked the wheel again and pulled the car to an abrupt spot at the side of the highway. He turned around and glared at Roger from the driver's seat, his arm hooked around the fabric head rest. "Roger either shut the ******** up or get out of the car. Everyone else here is ******** sick of your attitude. Now shove it and be quiet so the rest of us can have some piece of mind before we're out on the battlefield. Got that?" His eyes were cold as ice, pale blue and sharp like daggers. His face was solid and concrete with his eye brows knotted steely in their resolve to hold to look of one very pissed off man.
Roger was quiet. He tried to glare at Gus but the coldness, the pure hatred freezing his eyes had already won the mental battle, but not the war. He reeled back into his seat slowly, his shoulders stiff and hunched forward as he whipped out yet another cancer stick, the fifteenth of the ride to the air base. The sound of the metal lighter shot a blaze in the car, the screeching metal making Jimmy cringe in the front. The cap shut and Roger tucked the lighter deep into his jacket before crossing his arms. "Have it your way, boss," he muttered, cigarette bouncing on his lips. Roger took a deep puff and blew it out, his head facing towards the ceiling.
He then closed his eyes, shook his black hair out of his eyes and kept silent.
Gus, after a few minutes, was satisfied and turned around to look out the front of the car again. He turned off the low playing radio and shifted gears. He cranked the shift gear into drive and pulled off of the highway bunker and started driving down the road at the constant speed of eighty.
Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. 'At least someone here knows how to shut him up,' Jimmy thought, leaning his head against the window. He was glad there was Gus to keep everyone in line because he already knew that he would have been unable to shut the jerk up himself without a fist fight breaking out. Although Jimmy didn't care for Roger, he had to admit he held some, fleeting, respect for the man. He'd been through hell and back and yet he kept fighting. The guy was certainly one for a record books then again, thats what war did to you, it made you cold, impenetrable, pessimistic. It was like war was the grayness that swallowed your life in gunfire, screams and agony.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 21, 2010 11:26 pm
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill ---------…It just had to keep on talking...
---------In Mark’s mind the only thing worse than being pushed into battle this very instant, was having to endure this car ride. It was always going off about something. His lover, his time on the frontlines, his time off the frontlines… And if all of that failed to get the attention of his audience, which it almost always did, he would go off on some long rant about never being heard. The rest of the passengers seemed to have enough common sense to practice the unspoken courtesy. So why? Why on earth did It- Roger have to keep going on?
---------Gus, the driver, stepped in- figuratively speaking- in hopes to bring some order to things. Of course, not even the seasoned solder could conquer the monster that was the thing that would not shut up. It was only when talk about Gus’ girl that the driver truly became peeved. Roger had crossed a line that no man should ever cross. It was no surprise at what happened next.
---------At the sudden movement of the car, Mark’s face crashed straight into the headrest of the driver’s chair. Part of his shoulder collided into Roger's elbow creating even more discomfort. His jaw clenched as he tried to shake off the embarrassment of being caught off guard. It was a low blow to his precious pride. But the others did get it a bit harder than him, so he could hardly complain. In fact, he was almost happy. Even with his now hurt cheek he was grateful for the moment of mandatory peace.
---------Oh thank God for Gus! he thought as he rubbed his cheek. The man was admittedly a force to be reckoned with. Not the sort of guy that anybody- besides Roger- wanted to tick off. As long as the driver enforced order it was hard to really care how. Without that single voice to keep the peace, who knew what would become of Roger? In Mark’s head he had the distinct image of forcing the loudmouths head underwater. In the back of his head he fanaticized about holding it there until that final bubble burst. Not the cleanest method, but it would be so satisfying. Just so long as It stopped talking. Yes, Roger better get down on his hands and knees and really thank God for Gus.
---------Relaxing into the new mood of the car Mark found himself developing into a bit of a pleased mood. Not really joyous, but it was still somewhat happy. It was impossible to be fully at ease, but moments like these were rare. It was good to enjoy them while they lasted. Who knew when the enemy would swoop down to kill more than just the mood. He had been caught in the middle of a raid before. It had been horrible. What had started as a simple night of laughter and merriment turned into pure chaos. More than half of the unit had been shot down before they even knew what was going on. The rest were forced to fight for their lives. Out of their usual element the group barely stood a chance. Mark had been one of the fortunate ones who had made it. If he took anything from that night, it was to never let down your guard. The moment you let your defenses down you let them win.
---------Rest could wait.
---------He could not let them win.
---------Not now.
---------Not ever.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 22, 2010 12:22 pm
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
The last leg of the trip took over an hour however it was a very calming hour for Jimmy. The rain had really started to come down at the time, the windows cold with his warm breath fogging the glass with whiteness. His head was still propped up on his hand as his glazed eyes stared out the window, hardly blinking.
His chest rose and feel periodically, almost as if he were asleep which, to be more precise, he was not. It was a trance like state, his mind wandering around the world, taking in small details from outside. He always figured that that was the most important thing, the small, little obscure details, the ones that lead to a person's twitches, habits, knacks. He had spent most of his days at the army base learning this. For instance, he picked up that, every time Roger recalled a memory of battle his shoulders would tighten, or if he was remembering something more pleasant his eyes would shift towards the left as if following a reel of film before his own mind.
Jimmy leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, lowering his head to try and catch some sleep. Now with Roger quiet in the back he had all the time to reconcile his own thoughts and put things into perspective. It would only be a matter of time before the jeep reached the base.
That time was more then an hour.
The rain was fading slowly, following the grey clouds westward as variations of blue peeked through the horizon. The sun would be coming out soon only to set in a few hours. The days were growing slower and shorter adding a bit more anxiety to Jimmy's life.
The car pulled up to the blockade. Gus rolled the window down and looked straight at the two soldiers dressed in uniform. His arm hung out of the car as the two approached the vehicle. "Id please," asked the taller of the two, as he held out his ungloved hand for the papers.
"Sure," Gus replied as he leaned over the middle armrest in the front to pull the dashboard door open. He retrieved the crinkled paper before rotating in his seat to hand the paperwork over to the uniformed men.
They looked at the sheets briefly and nodded. "Everything seems to be in order," the shorter of the two spoke as he handed the papers back. He then raised his thumb to the sky and started backing away from the car.
Before them, the barricade was removed and the jeep started forward slowly. It would only have ten minutes until they reached the actual base. From there they could see the remnants of previous bombings, the craters of explosive, indented earth.
Jimmy had rolled down his window to get some fresh air as he watched the scenery fly by. 'At least it'll only be a few more minutes until I can stretch my legs and get moving again.' He thought on a positive note.
The base was like any other in England. A long stretch of asphalt in the centre followed by rows and rows of buildings. The jeep would pull up to one of the barracks, Gus parking in his parking spot. The engine would shut off and cool as Gus got out and made his way around to the back of the vehicle to unload all the duffel bags. "Hey Jimmy, Roger, Mark give me a hand would you?" He said from the back as he unlatched the hood and let it slowly rise to the sky only to stop its rotation above Gus' head.
Jimmy pushed his door open and slid out, stretching his arms and legs as soon as he was on his feet. It felt good to be moving around once again. After a moment of stretching, he swiped his brown leather jacket with trimmed fur and the symbol of the British Air Force and pulled it on. He then stuffed his hands into his pockets, out of habit, as he made his way to help Gus unload.
Roger was sleeping, head laying against the rest, arms crossed over his chest. There was one thing you never did to Roger. That was wake him up. If anyone were to wake him up then all hell would break loose. At least for now, he had struggled to wake and then moved his grumpy a** out of the car leaving Mark as the last one to leave.
Roger grumbled under his breath as he swatted the hair out of his eyes. He would stand there as Gus and Jimmy took on the duffel bags. It was typical Roger, let others dot he hard work and safe your strength for when its really needed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 02, 2010 11:49 am
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill ---------Resting in silence of the car was significantly more pleasant than having to endure through the pains of a conversation. There was something about talking to other solders that he could hardly stand. The men’s words were often innocent enough, but something about them always reminded him that he did not belong. It must be something in the accent. England had been home to him for all of four months after his birth. After that his mother had left his father and older brother in hopes of a better future. A life in the land of the free; a new opportunity.
---------As it turned out he had basically turned his back on the sacrifice his mother had given him, for the opportunity to go chasing ghosts. Setting foot on his motherland had been an experience in itself. Then he was forced to go through the pains of the paperwork proving he was not some sort of spy. After all of that he was allowed the privilege of joining her majesty’s royal army. Through the weeks of boot camp he came to realize just what people really thought about his agenda.
---------Stupid Mark from the states just wants to beat up the bullies that killed his big bro.
---------Comments like these had made him more than a little unwilling to speak up. And if there was one thing that these men hated more than his foolish motivation, it was the lack of motivation from the rest of the United States. While Europe suffered North America seemed to be taking its sweet time deciding when to step in. Why? What was it going to take for the US to realize just how badly things were going on over here?
---------On this though, the car rolled to a stop. Good. He needed something to change his current train of thought. Distractions were always a blessing. If he had continued on he knew he was to drive himself mad. He might as well hold on to his last bit of sanity as long as he could.
---------"Hey Jimmy, Roger, Mark give me a hand would you?" Gus called out to the passengers.
---------As the car emptied Mark quickly slid out to join the others. Stretching out his tired legs he went around the car in attempts to get the blood circulating. That annoying tingling feeling that came when his foot fell asleep was never pleasant.
---------Grabbing a bag he made his way to wherever they were going. It did not take long to realize that not everyone was contributing. Roger was just being his whiny self as he lazed about. It could at lest look like It was trying to help. What a poor excuse for a solder… he thought sourly. It was lucky for Roger that he was a half decent pilot. The man had some skill that was useful.
---------If it was not for that, than he was sure that Roger would have got what was coming to him a long time ago. In this bitter reality, not all friendly fire was an accident. A very hard learned lesson.
---------It just took one well-aimed bullet to silence a man forever.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 02, 2010 4:55 pm
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
Jimmy placed the army green duffel bag on the ground before tossing one, single-handed, at Mark just after yelling 'catch'. He then picked up Roger's bag and tossed it at him giving him a rough, thirty seconds to respond. Unfortunately the oaf was too conceded to even listen to what Jimmy had warned him about, rambling on about one of his legendary exploits in the turret for him to care about what one, younger boy said to him. So it was only due justice that the bag hit Roger dead in the chest, knocking him back against the truck. His head hit and bounced off the car door frame with a soft thud followed by a siring pain pricking up the back of his neck to the back of his head. Dazed, he quickly swung his head back, opened his squished eyes and turned to glare at the culprit with such conviction it would make a normal person shift uncomfortably or turn a very pale shade of white.
"What the hell was that for!?" he growled, kicking the bag away from his feet from where it had landed previously, after Jimmy had fully warned him about the flying duffel bag. "You trying to start something with me?" he hissed, puffing up his large muscular arms as he rolled up his white, long, cotton sleeves in an attempt to look menacing, his eyes darkening within seconds of sunlight deprivation with the black bangs shifting over his animal eyes.
"Hey, chill. I warned you that I was going to throw it, its your fault that you didn't catch it," Jimmy replied coolly with a light shrug.
Roger growled deep in his throat. Within seconds he had caught the younger man off guard, moving swiftly for an odd brute. He grabbed Jimmy by the exposed collar of his shirt out of complete spite of his own lack of attention span. "Don't give me that you son of a b***h," he started as he slammed Jimmy into the truck before raising him up off his feet.
At this point Gus was alert to the occurring squabble between Jimmy and Roger. He seemed only slightly displeased that Roger was picking on Jimmy but he had known Jimmy for quite awhile. He had, however, stepped in to block off the two groups, mainly to stop Mark from butting in. He knew deep down inside him, and he might not want to have admitted it, but Mark was more likely to kill Roger then Jimmy was.
He may have been able to shut up Roger in the car, but it was about time that Roger had a taste of his own medicine. He also would not allow any one else to interfere because of the regulations of brawling on the base.
Jimmy winced when he hit the jeep and stared at Roger, cocking one eye brow as he was lifted into the air. "Relax. I can't help it if you choose not to pay attention to me and my warnings," he said, gripping Roger's wrist. He then started to dig his fingers into Roger's tenants and twist it out to cause physical pain to Roger, enough so that he would be let go of.
Roger's face contorted in pain as his wrist felt the pressure of Jimmy's grip on it. After a few minutes he let him go and then took a step back to cradle his arm. He eyed the half-smiling Jimmy with an angry expression before pulling up to his full height, towering over the small, meek looking individual.
"You ******** twrip, I'll give you something to smile about," with those words, he hooked his fist back and charged, attempting to dislocate Jimmy's jaw with one power packed punch.
To most people's surprise, Jimmy ducked and kneed Roger hard in the gut causing the brute to spat out a small portion of saliva and then stumble backward, clutching the painful spot.
Contrary to many people's beliefs, Jimmy was pretty strong and smart for his age. He was also, usually, level headed and cool, the kind of person that a person would assume to be weak but, in contrast, he was the opposite. It just so happened that Roger was one of the few people who got on his nerves, and it was only ordinary for him to protect himself if one attacked him first. He was unlikely to make the first strike unless said person was to piss him off enough.
Deeming that he had damaged Roger's pride enough for the moment, he picked up his duffel bag, swung the pine green sack over his shoulder and stuffed his hands into his pockets before starting to walk away from him. Jimmy then moved over to Mark and Gus asking, "[ b]if we are ready to go, shall we get to finding the barracks?" he let a small smile cross his face, as if being thrown into a jeep and then held above the ground was nothing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 19, 2010 9:22 pm
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill After getting his bag from Mark had the intention of head straight for the barracks. It would be nice to get some rest, but more likely they would be put straight to work. No rest for the wicked. He had made it all of fifty feet when he heard the commotion break out. The first thought that came to mind was a surprise attack. Even in the heavily guarded base it was theoretically possible for a spy to sneak in. Grabbing for his gun Mark made a quick turn to the source of the noise.
“You trying to start something with me?" Roger hissed from across the way. Pausing, the situation became very clear. Chuckling a bit he took his hand off the firearm to watch the show. Maybe Jimmy would finally give Roger that long deserved punch to the jaw.
When the tussle got physical he was slightly bemused to see Jimmy thrown into side of the car. Roger was begging for a challenge. He would have given pretty much anything to get the opportunity to switch places with Jimmy right now. The fight would be over before It even knew what hit him. Sadly this it was not to be. Mark would have to wait for his own at It. To a certain degree this was almost an initiation ceremony for Jimmy. He wanted to see the younger pilot step to the plate. He was silently rooting for him. But in all honesty, he would probably feel the same way for anybody who had the luck of getting into a fight with that piss poor excuse for a solder.
When Gus stepped up Mark was expecting the man to break up the brawl. It was a bit of a surprise to see him not approach the others, but him. Normally the two got along just fine. They had this unspoken agreement to not bother the other, so why was Gus trying to stir up the pot? His eyes narrowed at the other. This was probably to be expected. In all fairness he did not have the best record. Even still that still did not make him any less peeved. He was not about to pick a second fight- one a day was plenty- but he was sure as hell not going to let Gus leave without realizing what the solder was about to cross. ”You pickin’ sides?” he growled.
“Easy, Captain America. Just keeping the peace.” Gus responded in as calming a voice as he could muster. What the hell was with the attitude? He was acting if he was some sort of wild animal.
”Is that so?” Mark asked skeptically.
“That’s right. ’Sides the kid knows what he’s doing.”
Before he was able to come up with any sort of witty comeback he heard It start howling. He turned his head back to the scene of the action just in time to see Jimmy drop his competitor straight to the ground. Very nice! Perhaps it was the well deserved violence, but Mark was instantly put into a better mood.
“If we are ready to go, shall we get to finding the barracks?” Jimmy said obviously pleased with himself.
”Sounds good to me. Ready to go peace keeper?” he mockingly asked Gus. Now that the tension had died everything seemed a bit better. Even the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter through the foggy fort. Picking up his bag he started heading back to his original destination. Joining a brisk stride he joined up with Jimmy. ”Nice going back there.” he said indicating back at Roger –who was still attempting to blow off his shock. It was a well deserved complement for such a performance. ”Hopefully, he’ll actually manage to learn his lesson this time.”
“Doubt it.” Scoffed Gus as he kept an even stride a couple feet behind.
Well, one could always hope.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 20, 2010 9:04 am
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
Jimmy was strolling down the concrete and away from the parking lot when Mark caught up to him. ”Nice going back there.”
"Thank you," Jimmy smiled in turn to the flattery. He then went and rubbed the back of his neck feeling a bit embarrassed from the sudden attention he had received.
”Hopefully, he’ll actually manage to learn his lesson this time.”
“Doubt it.” Scoffed Gus as he kept an even stride a couple feet behind.
"Com'on now, if he does try anything stupid, I'm sure there wouldn't be a problem if we reinforced the lesson again." Jimmy replied as he shifted his bag on his shoulder.
"I HEARD THAT!" Roger yelled from the distance as he mulled around, picking up his things. "Next time I won't go easy on you!" he yelled from what seemed like across the base.
Jimmy stopped and sighed, shaking his head. He didn't feel like encouraging the man into another fight. It wasn't that he couldn't win, it just wasn't his thing to go picking fights with other people although he did like to joke about a few things others wouldn't really want to or would take disrespectfully. "Calm down Roger, I'm sure if you really wanted to get into another fight that someone else would love to take it up. Just don't go picking a fight with me," he shouted back with a calmness unforeseen.
Roger gave Jimmy the middle finger as he walked up to and then past the group, his hand curling into a tight fist as he passed by them quickly. He was grinding his teeth in anger. "Stupid brat," he growled under his breath as he began to force a distance between him and the group.
"Well, I hope he doesn't go and get himself hurt outside of the battlefield. That would be a pity," Jimmy said more to himself then the group. "Anyways, it's getting late, we should probably be off to the barracks and then off to lunch." Jimmy spoke, cancelling out the quiet of the area. He then flashed a smile, shrugged once and started heading towards the barracks. At the very least they could hope for Roger being in a different one, but that was most likely, not going to happen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 11:14 pm
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill “Com'on now, if he does try anything stupid, I'm sure there wouldn't be a problem if we reinforced the lesson again." Jimmy replied. This guy was letting It off way too easily, but his choice was his own. Personally, Mark would have made sure that Roger was not getting up anytime soon. A few days in the infirmary would have done It some good. Plenty of time for him to bother some poor unsuspecting nurses with his tall tales of bravery. And for the others? A needed break from the relentless noise.
“Next time I won't go easy on you!" Roger said still desperate to preserve his honor. The guy was just making a fool out himself. Not to mention everyone around.
“…Just don't go picking a fight with me,” Jimmy advised. He really should not waste his time with words. Not that Mark had to tell him; Roger cut in front of the group flipping off his new enemy. Some muffled insult followed, but there was no point in trying to discern it. It was all the same old crap that ever left the pilot’s mouth.
“Well, I hope he doesn't go and get himself hurt outside of the battlefield. That would be a pity,” Jimmy mumbled.
“Would it?” Mark asked. The amount of sarcasm used was drowned out by honest puzzlement. The loud mouth was always going off listing the number of broken hearts he had left behind. So how many of those dames were really real? How many would actually care if the guy never made it back? It was thoughts like these that really made him wonder.
“Yes. It would.” Gus replied literally slapping him out of his train of thought. Mark rubbed the back of his head where the injury had been inflicted. That was so like Gus. The appointed leader keeping peace in the midst of a war. Both Jimmy and him seemed bit too kind to be solders.
Once they made it into the barracks they were met with the site of Roger heckling the attending secretary. His hands gripped the collar of the latter. It seemed that somebody was already trying to earn back some of his damaged pride.
“-Look! I just want to change my stationing. Is that so hard to do?”
“I am so-sorry I don’t assign the bo-boarding. I just tell people where to go.”
“Do you even know who I am? I AM-“
Roger probably would have continued to bother the poor guy if he did not eye them enter. With an overdramatic huff the man hurried off desperate to put some room between himself and the group. “I’ll be back to continue this conversation later.” He growled at the poor secretary.
As Gus got the necessary information from the shaken up solder, Mark could not help but raise his eyebrow at the site he had just seen. Loosing to Jimmy must have really gotten to It. The whole situation was amusing in a way. By throwing this temper tantrum he was giving them the silence they had all wanted to begin with. Wonder how long it’ll last… he mused.
“…your bunks are just down the hall and through the double doors.“ the secretary directed them. Readjusting his duffle bag, Mark followed as Gus led the way to the beds. Even he could not deny that some sleep would be nice. A nap would do his head wonders.
Through the double doors were rows of metal bunk beds. There were around twenty to thirty by the looks of it. Most of the beds seemed to already be claimed. A few actually had men dosing in them. Apparently he was not alone in his desire for a bit of shut eye. Gus was able to spot two adjacent bunks that were still unclaimed. The thin mattresses provided were still folded in half revealing the coiled springs on the bottom. It was certainly not his first choice for lodging, but it would do. Throwing his duffle bag down, Gus sighed, “Home, sweet home. ‘Ey Boys?”
Following suit Mark tossed his bag down on one of the lower bunks. He had always preferred the bottom bed. Less climbing. Less competition. As he set up his area he could not wait to rest. As soon as the mattress was rolled out he jumped unto the bed and announced, “Okay, for the next five to ten minutes nobody bother me, mmkay?”
“Yah, we’ll see how long that lasts Summers.” Gus laughed as he worked on making his area look a bit more appealing. Not that any amount of work would make this place feel like home. Everything here was far too cold. Even the blankets were cold.
“Hopefully longer than it takes for Roger to realize he’s gotta come back. I don’t think there are any other beds available. What a shame.” Mark scoffed right be closing his eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 8:14 am
J i m m y / / T h o m p s o n
---Pilot
They sky was greying a bit from the small window at the back. The clouds had covered the disappearing sun in a cloak of flat, foggy darkness. The bunking room appeared darker and colder then it had before. Jimmy walked into the room, slowly taking in the details. Mark was right, there were few bunks left. To avoid dealing with Rodger, Jimmy had claimed the bunk over Mark's and tossed his bag up there. "You sure you don't want to top Mark?" Jimmy asked as he placed his foot on the first step of the ladder, gripping the bars tightly.
It looked like he was already settled in so Jimmy let the question slide and continued up to the top bed. "It's got some view," he chuckled lightly as he laid down on the flat pillow, his arms behind his blond hair.
“...for the next five to ten minutes nobody bother me, mmkay?” Mark said as he settled into his own bed under Jimmy's.
Gus had just chimed in “Yah, we’ll see how long that lasts Summers.” He was already starting to flat out the bed a bit, fluff the pillow and unpack a few little belongings. Once satisfied, he too laid down on his bottom bunk. Gus stared up at the ceiling for a moment before letting his own eyes close. He too, was glad to be somewhere else with his own peace and quiet from Rodger.
“Hopefully longer than it takes for Roger to realize he’s gotta come back. I don’t think there are any other beds available. What a shame.” From what it sounded like, Mark would be out in less then a minute.
Jimmy was unable to fall asleep so easily like the other two. Instead, he got out of his bed, made his way down onto the ground, very quietly and headed off to the washroom. It was fairly easy to spot the washroom with the door labelled with a small sign. He walked in, pushing the door with his finger tips. Upon entering, he noticed that there were no windows in room, only the dim buzz of the electric light bulbs hanging overhead. Jimmy sighed and moved over to the sinks to freshen himself up.
At that moment Rodger walked in. He paused in the door way instantly noticing Jimmy standing at the sink. He groaned and was about to turn around when Jimmy turned off the taps. "I'm leaving," he announced to Rodger as he dried his hands and face off with a paper towel. He then threw it in the trash can and started towards the door. He paused before a moment, opening the door only half way to say something to Rodger. "You probably should go and grab a bed soon. There aren't many left." With that comment Jimmy left leaving Rodger to the washroom.
- - -
By the time Jimmy had returned it was already lunch. Many of the other bunk people had headed down to the large cafeteria to be served a small, warm meal of the daily special. It could have been worse, they could have been in the field eating cold canned beans in freezing temperatures carrying tones of weight on their back. Jimmy shook is head of the thoughts. He was a pilot not a foot soldier.
Pushing his thoughts away, he walked over to the sleeping Mark wondering whether it was a good idea to wake the guy up or leave him be. There was a fifty percent chance that either could go the wrong way. 'Oh well, might as well get wake him up and deal with it now,' he thought as stood over him. "Hey Mark, lunch time." He said as he kicked the metal bed frame.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 11, 2010 1:42 pm
M a r k_ S u m m e r s
Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world:
"We are still masters of our fate.
We are still captain of our souls."
--Winston Churchill Mark was asleep almost instantly. Take rest when you can get it and don’t be to picky; Two of the first things he was instructed on when he joined up this battalion. Now that the great annoyance was out of the picture he might actually be able to have the first peaceful rest he had so greatly missed.
----
The wind blowing through the sky was creating ripples across the desert floor. The golden sand seemed to dance into the hard red soil blending into a pallet of wondrous colors. A bright ray of sunlight shown down here, almost as to emphasize the beauty of this scene. Whoever claimed that the desert was a barren wasteland had never seen the splendor of such a lovely sight. There was life here; in the succulents that blossomed best in the scorching heat. It was like watching lilies floating on a lake of warm orange water. There was life in the many inhabitants that burrowed deep underground not willing to reveal themselves to unworthy eyes. Yes, there was life everywhere.
Then the ground began shaking. An earthquake? He was familiar with the feeling, but these sorts of phenomenon were not common here. In California sure, but not Arizona. What was going on? The shaking got harder. His perfect scenery came crashing down all around him. Chaos. What the hell was going on?!
“Mark!”-
----
“-lunch time.” Called out a voice.
Mark awoke with a sudden snap. He was immediately up in the upright position. His hand automatically reached for his weapon tucked in his jacket holster. He would have drawn it if he had not noticed the cause of his sudden alertness. Jimmy was standing over him. There was no attack. This revelation made him both relieved and slightly peeved. The scale would have probably tilted more towards the latter if it had been anybody other than one of his companions.
“Oh Jesus, Jimmy,” He started as his hand clutched his heart. Things like this were slowly going to kill him. “I could have blown your brains out.” The statement was not a threat or anything. He was in no way kidding either. He would be the first to admit that he was a bit trigger-happy. One good spook was all he needed to give him reason to start firing; an action that Gus had reprimanded him for time and time again. There were one too many bullet holes in the old jeep for the driver's liking.
By this time his mind had finally clued onto the reason why he had been awakened. Food. His attention was peaked at the thought of a warm meal. Some food was probably a good way for him to calm his nerves. He swung his legs out of the cot and stood next Jimmy. ”Guess we should get some grub then…” he said attempting to show any signs of eagerness.
Through a pair of large metal doors was the cafeteria. Everything seemed to be made of metal; the counters, the tables, and even the trays. And here I was thinking that metal was a luxury… Mark scoffed. These could all be melted down into bullets. The more weapons and ammo available the quicker this God Damn war would be over. It was a shame that nobody had the brains or the balls to mention that to whoever was in charge of this place.
Grabbing a tray, he joined in the line of men waiting for their meal. When his turn came around he was handed a plated filled with slightly burnt chicken, undercooked potatoes, and what appeared to be over boiled vegetables. Ew. Maybe it was just a cultural thing. Not enough good American cooks in Europe. He had spent too many years in the states. His, previously British, pallet had been transformed into something that survived on nothing but greasy fried food. If he tried to look at the meal in a different light perhaps he would find it to not be so bad. He sniffed the food experimentally. The entire plate smelled rancid. Delicious, He thought sarcastically as he stuck out his tongue. He made no attempt to hide his disgust. It was not his fault that the cooks could not whip up a decent meal.
Mark headed to one of the tables that seemed to have the least amount of people present. Gus was sitting their already half way done with his plate. The other two men present were just finishing up. As soon as he sat they left heading off to do their own thing. It was just like being in high school again. I guess even the military has cliques. Tossing his plate down he said a silent prayer before he took his first bite. It tasted worse than it looked. God, he wished that he could have a decent meal again. If he somehow managed to survive this war the first thing he was going to do was have a home cooked dinner. For now the best he could do was cover the plate in salt hoping that the over dose of sodium would somehow trick his brain into believing that what he was eating was not complete garbage.
Once he could no longer bare to stomach the excuse of a meal he looked at the other two present, ”So anything eventful happen while I was out?” He would have said anything to have a reason to stop eating. If he was going to stall he might as well get caught up on the events that had taken place.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
