Thread: War is Hell [Flassche x Happy]

Day one The last thing Lance remembered was the light, the terrible, stabbing, insistent light that blurred everything in his vision. There had been smoke in it, and fire, and the terrible, terrible torn limbs and spewing human blood but most of all there had been the light, and that was all he could remember for sure. Everything else was pain-tainted. Impossible to recall. He rubbed his temples as he sat back up, his 62 tall frame pressing back at the seat. He could hear the plane engines roar to his right side. A vast metallic bird bringing him once again back to the embrace of war and death, home. He placed the notes he was reading earlier back in his backpack, glancing quickly once more at the names on the list. It had been three years since his last command. Three years since he had to juggle with the life of his comrades. He had once been a fine officer, committed and honorable. That all had changed since the He shook his head again, shaking the thought from his mind. The doc told him the guilt would fade in time. Alcohol helped though, if briefly. He was to be stationed in Afghanistan, close to an urban settlement, yet small enough to be called a piss hole. He knew the type of terrain, feared it even. Standing up straight he arched his back once more before grabbing his gear. As he stood up to walk to the door, he glanced at his left side. One of those paper pushers was watching him, like a hawk one might say. The nose had healed quite nicely since he last met him, incredible what todays medical treatments could do. In the three years since the incident he had been working AR missions. Advance Recon was typically a high risk low success situation. The men called it suicide tours. For three years he did those, until finally the higher-ups decided it was time to lead a team again. The docs even spoke of positive effect a team might have on one. Fucking paper pusher. He mumbled as he got out of the plane, quickly making his way towards the HQ. A few handshakes and a brief, not to mention horrible, speech later and he was standing in front of another pencil pusher. They must have grown them here or something. The man eyed him wearily, glancing at him and back at the paper several times as if he did not trust him. Twice he was asked to state his rank and full name, as if the idiot could not see the captain Insignia on his shoulders. Yet twice he had calmly stated his full name. Captain, Lance Carther. His doc would have been proud to see him cope with his anger so professionally. He even flashed the man a brief and warm smile, thought that probably would have been lost due to his hard gaze radiating ice and death at the man. Grabbing his bag once more, the twenty seven year old made his way towards the mess hall. Compared to airline food, the military mess hall was a 5 star French restaurant. He dumped his bag next to his table and made his way towards the kitchen, running his long digits through his short dark brown hair. He smiled politely at the woman standing at the other side of the table. That was one rule he always kept Dont anger people who handle your food. He had seen tougher men than him cry pathetically on the toilets. If marines where tough, lunch ladies were tougher. Imagining the fat woman holding a machete whilst storming up a hill produced a small smile on his face, one she apparently mistook for flirting. Grabbing his plate and a can of milk, he moved towards his seat. He placed the items on the table carefully, only sitting down once he was sure the lunch lady stayed where she was. Stuffing the first bite in his mouth he savored the warm liquid. A bit salty, yet the soup was good. He was just about to bring the spoon to his mouth again when a pair of soldiers entered the room. His expression never changed, yet he eyed them wearily. They seemed to walk. Stiffly. The two of them laughed casually as they passed a small rugby ball. Closer and closer they got, apparently walking towards the kitchen. Lance sighed as he recognized one of them from the documents he had studied in the plane. A few more soldiers walked into the room, taking seats left en right. Some looked relax, yet one or two appeared to be watching the two ball throwing soldiers too intently. Then it happened. The ball accidently changed course and sped towards the table Lance was sitting at. He felt his right hand twitch as he almost reacted on impulse. Forcing his hand to stay where it was, he closed his eyes as the ball hit his trey and smashed the bowl that contained his soup. Part of him wanted to grab his knife, yet he inhaled calmly, faking shock even. The room quickly erupted in laughter whilst the two soldiers pretended to be shocked at the events that had transpired.