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One Word to Describe pt 6STORM
RED Medic hated fighting when it was storming. Not because of the rain, or the lightning. It was the thunder that scared him. Growing up in the time period they were in, he was younger during wars. The thunder reminded him of the bombs going off, and shook the thin man to the core.
He was currently hiding out in the sewers beneath 2Fort, huddled in a corner. Part of him wanted to run at the cries of his class name, but most of him wanted to go deeper, hide from the loud booming noises. He knew he was going to get chewed out by the Soldier when the battle finally ended, but he didn't care. He just wanted the thunder to stop. He had his eyes closed, and his gloved hands over his ears, in a pitiful attempt to block out the loud noises.
And, it was working. A little too well. He was shocked that no one had found him yet(Scouts loved taking these sewer routs). What he didn't know, what he HAD been seen. The strong smell of cigarettes brought Medic out of his daze. Hands still clamped
something cute goes hereFebuary was a cold month. Especally out here, in Coldfront. It wasn't called Coldfront because of the balmy beaches. Oh, no. It snowed here all year round. The only time it didn't snow, was around August, when the snow turned to mush. Cold slush, and made the dirt mud. August was a misrible month, one they hated fighting in.
But, this wasn't August. It was snowy Febuary. Valentine's Day, in fact. The Announcer graced them with the day off, but only because it was Friday. He hated this holiday more than any other. Everyone acted so mushy, and he often found gifts on his desk, placed there usually by the Heavy. Today, however, he found two extras. One, was from their Scout. The boy had taken a liking to Medic, but in a more fatherly way. This gift was no romantic box of chocolates. Instead, it was a box of his favorite tea. He smiled and decided he'd get the young man something as well. Maybe some extra cans of Bonk. While he himself hated that drink, the Scout adored it.
The other gift,
Vanilla character biosCharacter Bios
real name: Dieter
age: late 20's
Hair: short, Black
Dieter's a shy man. many often wonder how someone as shy as he, ever got into such a war. he still sleeps with a stuffed bear(a gift from his mother when he was a child), until Soldier blows it up. his parents were killed in a war when he was a child. he still has nightmares about it. he likes sweets, hates spicy foods, and loves anything cute. he doesn't know english very well.
real name: Dante
age: early 30's
Hair: short, brown
Dante's a tough man. years of being alone made him the hard, tough man he is today. he befriends Medic quickly, and often protects him from the rest of the team. he was friends with the RED Medic before the war started. he likes salty food, hates bigger food, and has a soft spot for adorable creatures(like Medic. lol). he hates RED Spy with every fiber of his being.
real name: Alfons
age: mid-to late- 30;s
Vanilla ch. 6Vanilla
In the weeks that followed, Sniper and Medic got closer and closer. But, the RED Spy became more and more persistant, to the point where he targeted only Medic. Sniper would often lose sight of the young German, only to see him shuffling out of Respawn, often behind their Pyro(who seemed to grow quite fond of the little German, and would do its best to protect him when possible).
A knock on the door startled Sniper, who was busy taunting the enemy Pyro with body shots(he enjoyed teasing the enemy that way).
"Who's there?" He barked out, barely glancing over to the door.
"I-it's me, Herr Sniper..."
"What's the code word?" Another body shot, the Pyro freaking out and looking around for where they were coming from.
Sniper stood up and walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it. Medic stood there, blood on his suit and a deep gash on his arm. He was shaking, and Sniper saw tears in his eyes.
The Australian reached out, grabbed the German, pulled him
The celebration lasted the night. There was drinking, singing, and other forms of partying. Medic had his fair share of drinks, which amused much of the team, since the tiny man was quite talkative when he was drunk. Of course, no one could understand a word he said, but it still amused them.
At about midnight, Sniper felt a tug on his shirt. He turned, to find the little Medic, looking up at him. Sniper set down his drink, and turned to the German.
"Hey there, Medic... What's up?"
The smaller man fidgeted, before leaning against the Australian. Sniper could tell, that Medic wasn't as drunk as he was hours earlier, and it shocked him to see the German lean against him so willingly. Still, he couldn't help but wrap an arm around the young man.
"I... Vas zhinking about vhat you said earlier.... How you... Don't vant to lose me. Vhat did you mean by zhat, Herr Sniper?"
Sniper looked down at him, a bit shocked. He almost forgot he'd said that.
"I.... Well...." Sniper suddenly
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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