Surviving behind the line (Male reader x Countryhumans)

The first Operation

The next day had already dawned when Y/N ventured out into the bustling streets of Troyes, his mind buzzing with plans and schemes. His first task was to scout the town, identifying key buildings and potential targets for sabotage. While his search yielded little in the way of significant military installations, he did stumble upon the train station—a crucial hub in the city's logistical network, serving as a vital link in the supply chain to the front lines.

With the realization that disrupting the railway would effectively cripple the war effort in the region, Y/N resolved to infiltrate the signal box and wreak havoc upon its mechanisms—a task he felt well-equipped to handle, thanks to the insights gleaned from his parents' experiences as railway employees.

Yet, as he pondered his options, another idea began to take shape in his mind—an opportunity for a bit of personal retribution. Recalling the close call with the police officer just two nights prior, Y/N couldn't resist the urge for a little payback. His plan: to observe the police station, discerning patterns of activity and identifying opportune moments for infiltration.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the police station materialized before him, a formidable structure looming in the distance. Seizing the opportunity, Y/N settled onto a nearby bench, his keen eyes trained on the comings and goings of law enforcement personnel. It was a task that demanded patience and discretion, but one that he was willing to undertake in pursuit of his objectives, even if it meant hours of meticulous observation.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of fiery orange and crimson, Y/N rose from the hard bench where he had been stationed for hours, stretching his limbs to alleviate the stiffness of prolonged sitting. With determined steps, he made his way through the cobblestone streets of Troyes, his mind abuzz with plans and observations. Approaching the town's train station, he paused for a moment, contemplating his next move. With a decisive nod to himself, he entered the bustling terminal, the sounds of clinking ticket machines and echoing announcements filling the air.

At the ticket counter, a bored-looking attendant awaited him, his gaze fixed on the computer screen before him. "Good evening, monsieur," Y/N greeted the man with a polite nod, hoping to spark some semblance of enthusiasm. The attendant's response was a monotone murmur, devoid of any warmth or interest. "What destination and when?" he droned, his fingers moving sluggishly across the keyboard.

"To Paris main station, one-way ticket for the day after tomorrow," Y/N replied, his tone polite but firm, masking the impatience bubbling beneath the surface. Minutes stretched into an eternity as the attendant processed the request at a painstakingly slow pace. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he handed Y/N his ticket, his gaze already drifting back to the computer screen.

"Thank you," Y/N murmured, though the words felt hollow in the face of the attendant's indifference. Pocketing the ticket, he turned to leave, a sense of annoyance tugging at the corners of his mind. Exiting the station, Y/N found himself bathed in the fading light of dusk, the sky ablaze with the colors of sunset.

The morning sun cast its gentle rays across the quiet streets of Troyes as Y/N stood before the window, lost in contemplation. His mind buzzed with the intricacies of his plans for the police station and signal box. The former required meticulous planning, considering the movements of the attending officer during the night shift, while the latter seemed straightforward—a single armed man could easily overpower the occupants.