The Favourite Brother: Complex Edition

Worthy and insane opponents

Chapter 24:

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{Meanwhile, at the perspective of the enemy—a convoy of five armoured, and two companies strong of troops is seen marching down the valley.}

They don't have a destination, because their mission was to objectively hunt down Ooarai tanks, to take out the armoured category, and finally use their force to take over infantry bases... However, while logistics and strategy according to tanks is what they're good at, as well as naval battles—infantry logistics, nor strategy according to that branch is ironically not their cup of tea. Granted, this is an entirely new experience to them. They have no idea how destructive this is gonna be, despite the fact all of it is a faux. A con. Kayfabe, all of it.

While the use of a marching band is tempting, they need to realise that they're in a war where their enemies are most likely guerrilla fighters, and exposing their position would lead to their downfall.

The General, Michael Brikerton, sits beside the cupola where Darjeeling pops her head out. Has she ever stopped drinking tea? Will she ever stop drinking tea? One may never know.

Against his will, Michael submissively sits and has a chat with the dear queen of St. Gloriana. She urges for him to have tea, but he declines...sometimes in a demanding tone, but he reassures her it's from battle stress.

Especially when he recently heard of a fort being taken by Ooarai marines. He has many reasons why he's battle stressed when they're getting their ass handed to them by inexperienced conscripts relying on guerrilla warfare. Granted, some of them are Aussies.

It was all quiet down in the valley. They cross a pass—sandwiched in between a hill and a hard place. By which I mean a mountainside.

All the sounds they could hear are the squeaks of their tracks, the stomps of their boots, and the chatter among Michael's troop.

He usually tunes out every philosophical bullshit Darjeeling spouts from her mouth, and is really deep in thought, but when broached about the subject of the relationship of his friend, he was more than open.

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Michael: "Me and Ray have been mates ever since childbirth. May...sound unusual without context, but at the time, his parents were at the UK. His father and my father were best friends as well, so us being besties is just fate... Both of us had no problems with it."

Darjeeling: "How is Ray like growing up?"

Michael: *He laughs shyly.* "That top bloke is like a crack-fiction book. You understand, and misunderstand at the same time because of its unpredictability. At best, Ray is a considerate person... But the world made him a cynical goon, and I wish I was there when he was in his 'episodes'. Don't take my word for granted though; Ray is still considerate. He's just a sarcastic wank."

Darjeeling: "I see... Could you please elaborate 'The world made him a cynical goon' part?"

*Michael sighs, and looks to his right. He stares deeply into the forest with a hundred yard stare, and he does this for so long, Darjeeling thought to poke him to wake him up, but she doesn't want to be rude and pushy. Eventually, Michael answers...light reflects his eyes, which indicate he's...slightly weeping.*

Michael: "It's just... So many things happen at once, that made Ray... I wish I was there by his side...to comfort him and...stuff... You know people with destroyed psyches often uses humour – usually self-deprecating ones, and hefty amounts of sarcasm to cover their true side? That's Ray... I tried taking him to a therapist, but that therapist...ended up getting what Ray's feeling, because of how much he's...being an annoying prick. Then again, if I was being told I'm a patient, when I'm clearly the therapist, by a patient who thinks he's a therapist—I too would go insane."