𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.
♥︎♥︎♥︎
Beverly experiences a flood of memories when she is under cryo. Every sensation from her past - touch, smell, tear, kiss, and emotion-resurfaces in exactly the same form. S...
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TW: War training and possible death.
[In This Shirt - The Impressibles] 1:40 ─〇───── 2:13 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
Beverly's POV
The concrete and muddy ground crunches underneath my heavy boots, leaves twisting together with the build-up of the woods. Trees blow harshly with the howling wind, letting the sun peek through leaves and beaming down on the ground. Steve's hand gently holds my shoulder whenever I nearly trip on the rocky pathway, stopping me from falling and cutting my chin. It's funny how times change, he is now the one having to stop me from hurting myself, instead of the other way around.
We enter the camp, hearing the shouting of the captains and commanders, training the upcoming war soldiers. Steve and I split up, making our way over to our respective areas. Men lined up next to each other, their hands behind their backs and their heads facing up, chins facing the sky. I replace the captain, he walks over to the tent where all the important people are staying.
"Soldiers! Into position!" I shout.
Some of them move, getting ready to fight. The majority of them stay still, laughing with each other. A few of them even point in my direction, laughing with their friends. I straighten my posture, an annoyed expression on my face.
"Alright ladies, who here finds it funny that a woman is training ya?"
A few of them raise their hands, either confidently or hesitantly. I laugh, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. Some of them joined in with my laughing, thinking that I was kidding. Oh boy, how they are so wrong. I abruptly stop laughing, a suddenly serious look on my face, scaring a few of them.
"Being lazy and rude ain't gonna get you to win the war." I holler. "If you don't want to die out there, then you need to be prepared. It is a brutal battle and without the right training, we ain't gonna win. So, if any of you wanna act like little boys, the exit is that way. Cause you ain't gonna survive with being a little bitch."
They stop laughing, a few of them obviously appalled by my choice of language. I begin walking closer to them, my hands tucked behind my back. I know I need to keep them there to be professional, but it is also preventing me from leaping over and punching one of their stupid faces. I march in front of them again, a stern look on my face.
"So, I assume you all want to train. Alright, get into position."
They all stand up straight, their hands behind their backs and their chins facing the sky. I shout instructions, and they quickly complete them. If any of them slack behind, I make them do even harder training, showing them the true horrors of war. They all break a sweat, huffing and puffing harshly. Once their break comes up, they all pray that their next tasks won't be as harsh as the last. Unfortunately for them, I'm only getting started.
