.:. You read me? .:.
It's always hard to take the 1st step, for fear things might not be as wonderful as before.
The situation hasn't changed at all. It was like that afew years back, and now even though some time had passed, it still remains unfaltered. Gunfire ringing inside his ears, white polished katarn armor smeared with dirt ironically, and the ground shaking under constant bombardment. His objective was a knoll, just that it was unbelievably heavily guarded. And just as constant as is change, "It's just tinnies." he thought to himself, and he forged on ahead.
He slammed hard into the wall, sharpnels missing behind him only by inches. It was a trench, a hole the arti support had so kindly "dug" for him. Forcing himself to slow his breathing, he glanced at the situation. He had managed to gain foothold along the slope of the knoll, albeit its just afew metres from where he started. It wasn't much, but he had to constantly remind himself that it means afew metres off the enemy's territory as well.
Blinking green dots on his HUD reminds him he's not alone, with friends he can, and has relied on. They weren't all "born" together, a ragtag team made up of some willingly, some rejected, and some a living memory of their previous unit. It might not seem much, but it counts as home to him, another home. Through the years he's shared more with them than he ever had with anyone else, they knew him like he knew himself, maybe even better, some maybe even knew things relating to him that he himself don't know.
He snapped back to real time, realising his friends are currently fighting as he was daydreaming. Timing the volleys of enemy fire, he lobbed an EMP grenade overhead and jumped out, charging on...again.
Like a vicious cycle it continues. He just charges on, putting his effort into making to the next cover, covering what little metres or inches that counts. There was sense of victory when he got a breathe of respite under cover. There were afew times he had to endure afew hits, but still managed to pull home. Then there were the times, luckily countable still, that being lifted off the ground and slamming back down hard was the last thing he remembered, until he felt the prick of stims injecting into him and being dragged among friends.
Again and again, it continues.
Again and again he found his conviction questioned, but it was just again and again.
Firing the last few bursts of his magazine, he ejected it and slapped a new one in. The battle was tiring him out. He had the bruises, the mental state, as well as his friends to prove it. He rested his head on the battle-hardened soil, looking at the ground he had covered and had yet to. Both were encouraging and discouraging at the same time. Calming himself down, remembering what his sergeant Skirata taught him, he cleared his mind and hymn the pledge.
Mhi solus tome
Mhi solus dar'tome
Mhi me'dinui an
And with that, he went again...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is what I want,
but like the passage itself,
you do not understand.
Either you do not care,
or just don't know.
Just like how you've hurt me
...
often.
Knowingly,
or unintentionally,
I do not know also.
Revealed on [4:05 AM]
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