❍ ❍ ❝ 𝕿𝐖𝐎 𝕲𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 ,
╰───➣ we're just two 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 standing
in the 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 of you and 𝒎𝒆
trying to 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 how
it 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 to have a 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕. ❞ ೄ
: : : : : ‹‹ ◌ ⁺ ˖•̥◌ ▬▬▬▭ ˚ 𖤐 ❪ 𝙱𝚄𝙲𝙺𝚈 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚂 ❫...
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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
𝕽𝑨𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬𝑫𝑨FEARFUL CRY AS HE DIVED FOR COVER, THE FRONT OF HIS BODY LANDING ON THE BLOWN-UP GROUND WITH A HARD THUD. His hands frantically searched for his gun which he had lost his grip on during the fall, grasping it in his muddied hands as shaky breaths escaped him.
He couldn't even pinpoint how long he had been in this battle against the Wehrmacht soldiers. Too long. Was the only form of answer he could come up with as pellets of dirt smacked harshly against his face due to the outrageous amount of hits they were enduring.
Fires had broken out, buildings aflame as soldiers scream and run for their lives . . . again.
Raymond stood alone. He had lost Bucky when the first building blew up, knocking them both off their feet and landing them in separated areas, running even further away from one another to survive the attack.
Gabe and Bucky had been right; the battle at Azzano was nasty, way worse than either party had expected. They were outnumbered once more, their guns half the size of their enemies' weapons. In the words of Lieutenant Morris; they fought savagely. It was transparently clear to Raymond that they planned on taking no prisoners.
The Fossum let out a short cry when he felt a body collide with his back, terror striking every particle in his body as he wriggled. It was the heavy, crushing weight of a human, but it didn't take long for Raymond to realise that it stayed still; motionless, . . . dead.
He grimaced as he hoisted the body off of him, on his knees now as he held his gun in a weak, shaky hand. His eyes were so focused on the dead body of a man he had seen strolling around the trenches once or twice that he didn't even notice someone approaching rapidly from behind him.
Raymond was tackled, his gun flying out of his hand as he rolled against another person. Their hands were tightly grasped onto his jacket, their eyes meeting as the Wehrmacht soldier snarled at him; baring his teeth like a savage animal. Saliva bubbled in his mouth, Raymond scowling as he fought the hold.
He managed to free a hand, swiftly punching his attacker in the jaw with enough force to knock his head to the side. Raymond used this moment of flaw to push the man off him, diving to hastily crawl over to his discarded gun.
A claw-like hand latched onto his leg, drawing him back. Raymond panicked when he felt the man beginning to clamber his way up to his body, hand outstretched for the gun also. He must've lost it during the fight, so getting someone else's was the only way he could have a stream of defence.
