Fault Line
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:18pm
Thread Topic: Fault Line
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Okay. So the French are attacking. Ignore the Russian/Polish comment.
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Nice. XD
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Oh God... I have to keep going... No matter what, I have to try and get through for Alden...my Alden. To hear his soft, lovely voice again, and to hold him in my arms...I can do this...
With the last drops of determination being wringed out of him, he charge forward and shot out at the enemy. Several men fell down, hit like a target. Soon other American soldiers had come to aid him, and after a bit the remaining Canadians started to retreat.
"Hell yeah! We did, men!" One cheered, others cheering along. Charlie was silent, not one bit proud of what he did. Merely feet away, dead bodies litter the ground as if they were no more important the a plastic bag. He thought about Alden, pain from the thought of him getting hurt. He may have been lucky enough to make it, but what about Alden?
Someone walked over, slapping him on the back. "Hey Charlie, come on, celebrate or something." Though after that slap he fell to the ground weakly, blacking out. -
A blur. That's about the only word Camilla could use to describe the next few hours. There were gunshots and booms from grenades and bombs. In the basement she huddled with her mother and father, waiting for it to be over soon.
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Alden's whole body trembled; blood trickled down his arm and dripped off of his fingertips in long, thick streams. Still he pressed on, despite his body's screams of protest.
Make it through... For Charles... For Charlie. Bloody Hell, Alden, make it through...
He had promised he wouldn't be hurt, that he'd return to his lover with nothing, not even a scratch...
Alden continued to fire shots, not nearly as quickly as he needed to be. The battlefield was littered with many dead bodies. Men lay moaning on the bloodied grass as their hearts gradually slowed to a halt...
The scene was devastating. Alden watched as the French, who had somehow been reduced to less than the remaining Brits, retreated into the woods beyond.
Alden stepped over the lifeless corpses, making his way over to his tent. He receded into it, his eyes still wide with terror. It was no doubt that he would suffer from PTSD for years to come.
He tore up an old teeshirt of his and tied it tightly around his wound. He grimaced, the contact sending a searing pain throughout his left side. -
"Ich bin von der sechste Reich Herr Leutnant!" He screamed, approaching the battlefield.
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D: Poor Alden.
When Charlie 'woke up', he found himself back inside his own tent, completely alone. It was obvious they pretty much just through him in their carelessly, not really caring that he just went unconscious. He started to examine himself, pulling off his jacket and undoing his vest of metal. There was an obvious dent in it where the bullet had hit. When he took it off and looked at his chest, right under his collarbone was a large bruise, and a little blood. Wasn't serious, just a reaction to the force. He just felt extremely lucky that it didn't go through and hit him in the chest.
He sighed deeply, rubbing his head a bit. Visions of the battlefield returned to his mind, a sure sign he wasn't going to be forgetting about it. He'd never forget about the things he had seen. It was too much.
"Alden..." He whispered softly, wanting to actually speak to the man he loved. "Don't die...please, I want you back. You're the only thing I want to live for..." And after that, he burst into quiet sobs. He laid back on his bed, burying his face in the pillow. The emotional pain he felt was worse than any physical. -
*threw
*there -
She opened her eyes to find she'd fallen asleep. He mother and father sat by the opposite wall, perfectly fine, listening to another radio. Most of the gunshots had died away, but some could still be heard not to far away. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to blissful black, but it wouldn't come.
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His heart was more raw than the flesh that was physically torn by the bullet, Alden had resolved. He stood up, wincing at the sudden movement. He needed to get through the remainder of the battle to the phones... He had to call Charlie. He needed to know if he was okay.
Dear Lord, Charles... Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slowly made his way towards the exit of his tent. He poked his head out, glancing around. The rest of the battle had followed the French, leaving only the dead corpses for company. Alden shuddered as he quickly made his way towards the main cabin, careful to not tread on a body.
Once inside of the building, he practically ran to the phone and dialed Charlie's base number.
Pick up, pick up, pick up... The tears came faster with each lingering dial tone. -
Sypher placed his gun down. The French had fleed, the cowards. To stay unnoticed, he slowly backed into a building.
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After a few moments, a man came to his tent. "Charles, phone for you." He said coldly. "Don't take too long."
Instantly, Charlie looked up, quickly wiping away his tears. Call? He bolted out of bed and ran to the cabin where their only phone was. A small light of hope inside him glowed as he took the phone into his hand. "Hello?! A-Alden...?" -
Instead, she walked over and huddled between the two. "The French forces are fleeing. Best stay in your homes, some may try something stupid."
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His heart skipped a beat when he answered. "Charlie..." he whispered into the speaker, tears still dripping down his face. "God, you're all right..." An overwhelming sense of relief came over him, so powerful that it sent him into more tears. "You're... You're..." He couldn't manage to speak, his sobs convulsing his body with so much force. He took in a shaky breath.
He was okay... Unharmed, alive, breathing... They still stood a chance.
We still have a chance... -
Turning around, he noticed a man. Crying over Charlie. That had to be Alden, they gay prick from the girly letters.
Sypher raised his gun, waiting for Alden to hang up and face him. But then, he thought back to his mission and he ducked behind barrels of gunpowder.
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