Erwin had been on the alert since the warning klaxons went out and security was ordered to organize. He was running on almost no sleep (everyone was these days), but it was an unfortunately familiar feeling. At least it wasn't freezing. He'd grabbed his rifle and some of his other gear and he was looking for another member of security to team up with when the inky blackness rolled down the hallway towards him. He opened his mouth to yell and then staggered as all of his senses were assaulted by a flicker of things which should not be. Then the sound of pipes, high-pitched and fluting off in the darkness.
Tikeli-li! Tikeli-li!And then everything was horrifically wrong again. A fine mist and light rain were tip-tapping off of his helmet and running off of the zelt he wore as a rain poncho. He shouldn't be here. He should be aboard the ship. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake the sense of dread that began to flow through him. All around him were the battered, broken shells of buildings and craters. Upturned automobiles and burned
( ... )
Elsewhere, Robert cautiously peered around the edge of a burned out house somewhere in eastern France. It was raining there, too, and Robert had been seperated from his buddies. Never a good thing. Part of his mind wondered what was happening. The war had ended years ago...but that small voice was quickly drowned out by the urge to find the enemy. Find the enemy and kill him. Kill him so that he couldn't kill Robert. He took another quick look, then darted across the space between buildings, heart pounding in his chest as he waited for a crack from a sniper's rifle. Once across he paused a moment, panting, the helmet on his head heavy and cold, the spattering of water on the metal half-drowning out the sounds of the battlefield around him
( ... )
Mud. Blood. Snow. Rain. It all blended together into a hellish cold and damp that seemed to seep into his bones. He adjusted his zelt, wiping a damp hand against his trouser's legs in a vain effort to dry them. He flexed his fingers and then wrapped them around his rifle, numb fingers gripping the weapon as he cautiously crept onward. He could feel cobblestones through the soles of his boots, the hobnails and heelplates clattering softly as he peered through the strange mist.
He squinted, freezing as he heard the distant clatter of boots. They were here. He raised his rifle, hugging the side of the street as he moved onwards. He'd find them. He would kill them. He'd finally be free of this hellish war, if he only killed enough of them. His mind was gibbering at him, fear and adrenaline mixed with a sense of duty to his homeland driving him onwards.
He could hear them getting closer. No choice now but to face them. But that's what he'd been planning on all along, wasn't it? He whipped around the corner and fired, squeezing off the entire clip of his rifle as fast as he could pull the trigger before ducking back behind cover, shoving more ammunition into the firearm almost as soon as the distinctive 'ping' of the ejecting clip filled his ears.
And just like that the battlefield around them erupts in a cacophony of gunfire and explosions. Erwin isn't alone anymore. There are other Germans - faceless, moving forward at a run, throwing grenades as they leapfrog forward. Erwin hurled himself down behind a pile of shattered rubble that had once been a building and took a moment to steady himself before he popped up to fire a shot. Keep moving. Keep shooting.
The thunder of gunfire surrounded the two men as they closed on each other, slowly but surely, through the ruins. Robert dived behind a pile of rubble, hugging the ground as he began to crawl forward, flinching as bullets cracked and whined overhead, an unlucky soldier behind him catching a burst from an enemy machine gun. He fished in his combat jacket (Wait, wasn't he wearing a shirt and tie earlier...?) for a grenade, pulled the pin and hurled it forwards before continuing onwards. This war, this damn war. He had escaped it. Left it behind. But it was never going to end, was it? He would be fighting it, fighting them forever.
He was back in it again...back in the war. It wasn't Iraq though, not the Middle East. It was rainy, damp, more like Europe or some parts of the US. Booth didn't have time to look and think though, he only had time to shoot. He was wearing protection, though he didn't know where it had come from, and he had a rifle. He fired, as fast as he could, his gaze flicking around as he searched out a place and then dove for cover. He fell back fairly easily into Ranger mode, but his heart was still hammering in his chest, his brain still screaming at him to wake up, that this had to be a dream.
It has to be, because in none of these wars (not where these men fought them, anyway) did an 8-foot tall winged creature join the battle, leaping from the ramparts of a nearby castle to lay waste to artificial soldiers with a claymore.
The gargoyle roars at the panicking soldiers, sending the men scattering and scrambling to ready their guns, from which Goliath takes cover. He regrets, now, not having taken a shield from the castle as well.
Germans scatter as the gargoyle sweeps through like a hurricane. Erwin barely manages to get out of the way as he scrambles for cover. His shaking hands try to load his rifle - he has to kill the enemy before they kill him. It's the only way out of here.
A warm glowing hand comes to rest on Erwin's shoulder, the energy soothing and healing. Danny stands next to him, calm and composed in the midst of the chaos.
"Hey, relax." Danny says softly. "Calm down, clear your mind. Don't you think there's something weird about Goliath being here, Erwin?"
Goliath...? The name and the gargoyle are familiar. Familiar in some strange way. Robert shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the tendrils of the Nightmare King. That's right. He's on a ship. Stacy. He's not in France. This is a nightmare. A horrible, deadly nightmare.
Booth definitely thought there was something weird about it. But, whatever this was, Stacy was responsible for it, and weird seemed an unchanging constant anymore. He shook his head, wishing he could wake up. He knew this was that Nightmare Guy or whatever his name was. However, the bullets flying around him seemed very real.
Tikeli-li! Tikeli-li!And then everything was horrifically wrong again. A fine mist and light rain were tip-tapping off of his helmet and running off of the zelt he wore as a rain poncho. He shouldn't be here. He should be aboard the ship. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake the sense of dread that began to flow through him. All around him were the battered, broken shells of buildings and craters. Upturned automobiles and burned ( ... )
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He squinted, freezing as he heard the distant clatter of boots. They were here. He raised his rifle, hugging the side of the street as he moved onwards. He'd find them. He would kill them. He'd finally be free of this hellish war, if he only killed enough of them. His mind was gibbering at him, fear and adrenaline mixed with a sense of duty to his homeland driving him onwards.
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Angriff!
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He could never know peace.
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The gargoyle roars at the panicking soldiers, sending the men scattering and scrambling to ready their guns, from which Goliath takes cover. He regrets, now, not having taken a shield from the castle as well.
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Germans scatter as the gargoyle sweeps through like a hurricane. Erwin barely manages to get out of the way as he scrambles for cover. His shaking hands try to load his rifle - he has to kill the enemy before they kill him. It's the only way out of here.
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"Hey, relax." Danny says softly. "Calm down, clear your mind. Don't you think there's something weird about Goliath being here, Erwin?"
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"Shit...!"
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