Open - Veteran PTSD

”Delta foxtrot alpha, this is rover come in! ...Delta foxtrot alpha, this is rover do you come in, copy?”

_____The sight was… odd to say the least. Morpheus stood behind a boulder, mud and branches covering his body for ‘camouflage’ as the old man spoke into a pinecone, yes a pinecone. Grey eyes slightly hazed as Morpheus was once again trapped in an episode recollection of his years spent in the service. The pretense, well he did not fully know but without recalling anything around him he assumed he was within enemy lines and tried to reach command for mission update.

_____Frame rolling out from his cover until he slipped into a bush and poked his head out carefully before ducking back down and trying to radio base camp once again. Surprisingly however he was well hidden His beard the only hint of his location as the white hair was dotted with mud and leaves. Eyes scanning from his cover as he held the pinecone to his ear and spun the top until it almost snapped off.

”Delta foxtrot alpha, this is rover requesting missing statis do you copy, over? Damn it I’m flying blind out here! Recon and adapt!”

_____Morpheus rushed out of the bush in full sprint, hands held to his chest around his cane, though to him was an ak-47. The sound of an explosion resounding in his mind as he rushed into cover again and poked his head out. Hands lifting his cane up as his finger moved to pull the trigger, despite his odd actions he at least made the ‘clicking’ sound that followed out of ammo. Cussing Morpheus pulled his weapon back and reached for his pinecone again.

”Delta foxtrot alpha, this is rover im pinned down requesting back-up do you read me, over! Damn jamming towers!”

_____Morpheus waited until he no longer heard the sound of ammo, with a quick rush he moved forward Frame sliding over another rock as one could expect from a army vet before he slammed against a log and began holding part of it with his cane. His view was the enemy who was once keeping him pinned down. With a loud grunt the log cracked in two and Morpheus rushed forward deeper into enemy lines. He was on a mission, and it would be unwise stay in one place.

”I’ve been found by one, need to keep moving. Disable the tower, radio base command for backup… first find ammo and coordinates. Move soldier move!”

 

"Marcus" still couldn't believe it. When he had read the e-mails and dug deeper into the whispering that one could actually feel physical stimulus in this place it had been something the mercenary had to explore for himself. Marcus Caine rapidly touched his thumb to the tips of his fingers in rapid succession, his head swimming as nerves that had long since been dead registered the light brushing of skin against skin. His breath seemed to escape him as a throaty laugh slipped past his guard and the long forgotten sensation of joy began to consume him. He dug his nail into the palm of his hand, savoring the bittersweet pain that he had long since been denied feeling. That singular chuckle quickly cascaded into an avalanche of laughter.

Marcus had found it strange that he spawned in the wilderness rather than in a populated area, but at this particular moment in time he couldn't have been more grateful. Marcus couldn't be to sure how he would have reacted had he been among the prying and judgmental eyes of others. Out here, surrounded by naught by the avian call of birds he could let himself be overwhelmed and react how he needed to. He tamped his left foot, testing the sensation of the impact shooting up his leg. Another chuckle escaped his lips and he pressed at his eyes that had since begun to well up. Marcus closed his eyes and took in a lung full of the sweet forest air and allowed himself to slip into total bliss for the first time since he could remember.

This isn't real. This cant last.

Disappointment slipped into his mind like a poison, slowly turning the exhilarating moment into ash before his very eyes. In this forest, no, in this place he could as he once might have been but nothing good ever lasted. Mathias Crowe still sat in his crummy apartment in downtown Jacksonville, the phantom pains waiting for his return. He had never hoped that this would last. Hope was a foolish notion to cling to. Marcus chided himself silently for allowing such a childish sensation to overcome him, no matter how fleeting it had been. He could enjoy the moment but never be over come by it. The old and strangely comfortable numbness solidified itself as the dominant ruler of his mind once again as he brought up the player menu and scrolled for option to log off. Mathias had more important things to do than Marcus Caine would ever have.

His attention snapped to his rear, instinct and reflex taking over as he readied himself at the deafening smack of wood against wood. A chill ran up Marcus's spine as he took in the spectacle. For the briefest of movements he thought he was staring down the barrel of a rifle with the way the elderly man who brandished it had proned himself out behind a log and taken aim with his stick. Marcus allowed himself to relax slightly before remembering just exactly where he was. This was a place of magic and mystic, and the old man very well may have been readying some spell that could skin him alive.

Marcus fumbled through his menu, frantically searching for his spells so that he might better defend himself against this new aggressor. Within moments he located his most powerful spell, Flamethrower, a weak starter spell but unfortunately the best he had at the moment. Marcus readied himself, searching for cover that he might quickly use if things turned south for him. Marcus had selected the Acrobat Mastery so he might get himself out of these very situations should they arise but he doubted how well he would fare against one of the older, more powerful players that likely stalked this place. 'You lost old man?' The Pyromancer asked sternly and stubbornly held his ground.

 

_____No matter the mental state of Morpheus those words always enraged him. He was old yes, he did not need people calling him 'old man' because of that. Growling as he turned to face the speaker before he rushed forward. Arm pulling back as he got ready to Upper cut the man's chin for his words while saying a few of his own words to get a point across.

"I'm not old... I'M AGED WITH EXPERIENCE!"

_____While he was mostly out of his partial flashback he still seemed to have reason to be angry as he glared at the male for calling him old. As his frame might have relaxed to standard army at ease it was clear he was ready to throw another punch if the male dared to call him old man again. But after a few moments of the hostile air around him Morpheus relaxed just as quickly as he snapped at the man.

"You friend or foe soldier? Where am I? What in sam hell is blocking HQ?"

_____Morpheus dropped back into his flashback, hand lifting his pine-cone to the male as he grumbled and looked around for anyone listening. If the Male was foe, well Morpheus had no worries he could deal with him, or whatever sort of torture he tried. Morpheus brain was a diamond enforced chromium vault with so many layers of identification Morpheus found himself locked out of most of it rather often.
@Marcus Caine

 

Marcus furrowed his brow at the elderly mans calling him "soldier". That wast a title that he had held personally in some time. Well, maybe Soldier of Fortune, but society didn't glamorize the killers for hire quiet like they did the noble and self sacrificing serviceman. In fact, his profession was usually outright demonized. Not that he cared for the trivial opinions of others. Caine took a step back from the snow haired man, putting a bit more distance between the two of them as he considered to size him up.

The wizened man appeared almost feral, covered in mud and twigs as he was. And that stare... Those eyes... It was like the man was staring through Marcus, staring at something far off in the horizon, searching... Marcus wasn't sure how well this software could portray the true facial of the people engaged in this game, but he knew that look all to well. He had even been accused of having that same blank faced one thousand yard stare himself on more than one occasion (though he refused to believe it). And the way he spoke into a pine cone, like it was a hand mike...

'Jesus Christ,' Marcus whispered to himself, barely audible to his own ears. It had been a long time since he had seen it this bad. His mind drifted but for a moment, returning to a former friend. A friend who had barricade himself inside his own home in a stand off with police whom he though were Syrian Regulars trying to get inside the wire of his old COP. This man was a veteran, or he was a convincing enough actor to portray this particular condition well enough.

It was pitiful, if the man's symptoms where genuine. Marcus had only had one relapse in his life. A particularly real museum exhibit that portrayed what a lineman endured during the Vietnam War. Confined in a little room, the narrator reading the pages from a recovered journal, realistic brush lining the recreated fox hole. And then the sudden flash from direct fire, the deafening crack of rounds snapping over head. It had been enough to make the man dive into the fox hole, pissing himself while frantically searching for his nonexistent rifle. It was the single most embarrassing moment of his life. Marcus could still feel the unwanted pittiful gazes being cast at him. The anger... Not just at himself but at them. Like he fucking needed or wanted their pity.

It was then Marcus decided he wouldn't pity this man. They had both chosen, like so many before them, to endure that bullshit hell. This man had fallen back into that hell, where ever it was, however long ago it had been. Even if he was faking it, Marcus wouldn't take that chance. You didn't leave a comrade to fight the enemy by himself. You dug in deep and returned fire with him, come what ever may. So he would defuse this grenade the only way he knew how, they way he had done it with his friend in the past.

'Commsec has been compromised,' Marcus said in a low and quiet tone. 'I have no fucking clue how they did it, but Battalion would have abandoned this freq,' Marcus said as he took a knee and faced out, scanning for what ever enemy haunted this man. 'We're on our own. We're going to have to make it back without support.'

Even if this man where to knife him in the back right now, slit his throat and take what meager goods he started with Marcus would have been alright with that in the end. Angry, absolutely. If that was how this played out, Marcus would just hunt him relentlessly until the favor was returned in kind. But this was a game, and Marcus feared that this man wasn't in it. That fact alone was worth the risk.

@Morpheus

 

_____Morpheus did not fully get the situation, or how the other person chose his terms. While he could link that 'commsec' was the same as his 'radio' and the overall hint they had been alone in enemy lines now. Clicking his tongue Morpheus moved to regain cover behind a rock before waving his hand for the male to follow. It was almost comical if you thought about it. Two people treating the game almost akin to a military drill.

_____Waving to hold as Morpheus made a quick glance over the rock before rushing like a bullet to the next cover. His quick glance, and the way he, despite age and build moved without sound hinting to his old nature more. How he was able to swap signs quickly to relay full on messages to others, it was a old trick of trade he mastered early and it helped him out of a great deal of messes as he moved forward again.

'Eyes open, silent advance, bird whistle at trouble.'

_____The message waved over his shoulder as Morpheus kept moving forward. he needed to gain information, he needed to know what was going on in his unstable state of mind. There was to many issues with his focus as he moved forward. Nothing matched what he could recall, nothing looked familiar and he could have sworn he watched a deer with glowing antlers in the distance throwing the old man off. Where in SAM hell did he end up getting deployed now?

@Marcus Caine