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!IMYfe1j54Y 11/22/10(Mon)00:55 No.12887866>>12887657
Sighing once more, he cuts the tip from his cigar, places it in his mouth, and lights it, taking in a deep drag and causing the tip to burn a fiery red before pulling the cigar from his mouth. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he slowly exhales through his nose, sending twin plumes of smoke from his nostrils like some dragon of old.
Bravo did well, fought hard, and won the day. It didn’t go as expected – but of course, what does? A flick of his wrist brought up camera feeds from various troops. If they weren’t cheering or celebrating in some way, they were slumped over controls, leaning against walls, against anything, all with their eyes closed. Yes. Rest. They had earned it. Every last one of them. Even if it was for one moment, he would give it to them. A chance to rest their heads, to think not of war, but of all the other things that other men would do. A chance to be a man, a human, more than some faceless clone in some army doomed to die an inglorious death among thousands with not one to remember them.
But he would. Every single one of them. They were his men; he owed them that much. Another flick of his wrist, this time the camera feeds closed to be replaced with a blank screen with a blinking vertical line. They had done their part and earned their rest; but there was still much work to be done. |
