Chapter 2: Charles Owens

GERMANY MOVES FOR BRITAIN.

Large fleets of German soldiers were spotted on Britain soil. How they made it past the royal navy is unknown at this time.

-The Erie Daily Times

Charles woke up to an annoying sound, going off throughout the entire place he was in. As soon as he came to be, his ears closed, suppressing the sound greatly. He used the moment of silence to look around the unfamiliar place, and quickly realized that he was on a plane.

Rows of people sat near him, all either sleeping or intently focused on something, although there were a few carefree ones. Meanwhile, his mind was in mayhem. It seemed to have become a habit of sorts.

His mind couldn't come up with a logical reason for why the officer had done this to him. Even less could he figure out how he had passed out. Gas had entered the office, doing the officer's job for him.

A heartbeat later, his ears opened up again, letting him hear everything around him. The ringing noise had stopped, having been replaced by a voice.

"Welcome to Platoon 892.

We would like to offer our sincerest apologies for how you have been brought here. This platoon is highly confidential, so we must ask you to understand our reasons. Your families have been informed of the circumstances and compensation has been issued to them.

Platoon 892 is a small platoon composed of bright people led by Sergeant Sean Moores. You are tasked with operations that take place in foreign countries and ones that could have large political impacts on the war.

You are currently flying over Britain and are soon to be dropped off at a small town near Cardiff. Multiple Nazi sympathizers have taken the town over and are holding an unknown amount of civilians hostage. You are tasked with driving them out using any methods necessary. Freeing the hostages is a secondary objective that shouldn't be prioritized over the first.

Good luck."

"What the fuck?" Charles thought as the voice finished. Was this really how soldiers were recruited? Offering a seemingly good deal, then throwing them into war blindfolded?

Charles was already regretting accepting that offer, now knowing that his life was actively on the line. That's what you get for hoping to benefit without doing anything, he guessed. Who knows, he could have ended up here even if he did refuse.

He felt like protesting against his situation, marching up to the cockpit and demanding to be flown back to his home. If he did that, though, then that would be nothing more than inviting death into your house. What would they care about a random person they recruited? They have dozens of soldiers here, he would likely get a bullet in his skull for the disrespect.

There was no other option other than seeing this through. He would have to use all of his determination to keep living by getting muddy and fighting. His plans of gaining honor hadn't been thrown to the side. If anything, his chances were better now.

He would be tough, he would get through this. He would return home and finish school, then go to a nice university and live a good life. He would forget all about what happened in the alleyway, and he would never even give a thought to how he had made a man's head explode. It was irrelevant, at least in his eyes.

He fortified his resolve and steeled his nerves. He knew he could do it.

Seconds later, an ear-piercing explosion resounded outside. Another shortly followed, and then something hit the plane.

Before he could react, before he could register the terrified faces of others, the plane plummeted towards the ground.

///

"Get yer ass up, ye bastard!" a man shouted, grabbing Charles by his shoulders and shaking him awake. Charles groggily opened his eyes, staring right into the panicked man's face. Before he could do anything, the man pulled him up and started pulling him away from the remnants of the plane.

"W-what are you doing?" Charles asked, as he was dragged through the snowy plains that surrounded their crash site.

"Just run," the man said. Charles thought it to be best if he did as told. The two had barely got anywhere before a loud explosion resounded behind them, the shockwave of which threw them to the ground.

A few seconds passed as large flames overtook the remnants of the plane. The thick layer of snow that surrounded the plane melted as the heat of the flames could be felt even from where Charles was.

"Did- did the plane just explode?" Charles asked. Such expensive machinery could meet its end like that? He had always had the impression that planes were as safe as they could be, but of course, usually they weren't hit by explosions.

"Shut it, keep yer thoughts to yer person," the man said, "We have to meet Sarge at the rendezvous spot."

"What are you on about? The voice didn't mention anything 'bout that," Charles responded.

"'course they didn', all of ye're rookies. I'm a corporal, we're meant to lead ye there," the man explained.

"Corporal? Why weren't we told about you on the plane?" the man stared at Charles for a moment, before scoffing and looking at the site of the explosion.

"We're lookin' for survivors. Find em' and we can get out of here," the man said, standing up and getting ready to start looking, before turning around.

"Forgot they hadn't handed out gear," he muttered, shoving a pistol into Charles' hands. "Now c'mon boy, we've got work to do!"

"It's Charles, mister…?"

"Corporal Raymond Grumponie. Don't call me Ray, you ain't got that privilege," Raymond said, walking off as Charles scattered to follow him.

The two walked around the perimeter of the plane, Raymond looking for others who jumped off the plane while Charles was more focused on the man. It was clear Raymond had been a member of this platoon for a while, and from the graying hair and wrinkles on his face, it was safe to assume he was in the older years of his life. That means he must be experienced.

"Why'd we get no training?" Charles asked.

"Ask the Sarge when you meet him," was the only reply Charles got. He tried asking a few other questions, but they were promptly ignored.

"Damn it," suddenly Raymond cursed, staring at the plane. "Fifty-two soldiers and none but two survived the crash."

"Couldn't they have fled away from the plane? I don't think it's logical that they are all dead."

"In these conditions, a person who is missing is as good as dead," Raymond responded. Charles wrinkled his nose, not very pleased with those words. When you were missing, you had a chance of coming back. There was no coming back from being killed. A major difference between the two right there.

Besides, aren't people who are missing usually looked for? He would feel much more comfortable if he knew that he was actively being looked for when in captivity or lost in the wilderness.

Raymond fished out a small piece of paper from his pockets. Upon unfolding it, it became clear that it was a map.

Raymond stared at the map for a while. He let out a small hum, "We're camping in the woods nearby for the dark. We'll be heading to the town tomorrow," he declared, taking a moment to think."

"Ye know how to hunt?" he asked, letting out a deep sigh when he heard Charles' rejection.

"Well, ye better learn quickly. Otherwise, starvin' will be the way we go."

///

A glint of moonlight mirrored off Charles' pistol. It was such a strange feeling to hold the weapon. Something so small and dangerous, so elegant yet barbaric. Shooting it accurately seemed like the easiest task, yet he knew it wasn't. The cold feeling in his hand, the sense of security and the foreboding disaster, all brought by the small revolver.

Charles stared up at the stars, listening to the fire crackle next to him. He felt a little nervous sleeping out in the open like that, but Raymond was near him, and he was sure the man could handle danger when it came.

He did not know if following Raymond was a good choice, or a choice at all, but currently it was only beneficial to him. Charles had no idea how to go about securing food in the wild, yet Raymond knew all about it, even going as far as to show him how to hunt a deer.

Although, the man was a little too closed off. He didn't expect to know his life story, but a word as to what they would do when the sun rose would still have been appreciated.

No matter, he could adapt. How hard could it be?

Presenting that question to himself felt humorous. In his consciousness, he knew that everything from here on out would rely purely on luck and other people. That everything would be painstakingly difficult- The chances of dying were tremendous.

But who could blame him for trying to give himself some hope. Some encouragement.

The long lasting effects that war caused were irrelevant to him, as long as he survived, it would be fine. He fought for himself, because why not put himself first. By putting himself first, he would also put his family first, so he wasn't being selfish.

He shuffled around for a second before closing his eyes shut, forcing himself to sleep. The night passed slowly, with him constantly waking up. The constant sounds around him were distracting, and unlike the sounds of cars passing by, which he had grown used to since he was a child. When he did fall asleep once again, half the dark had already passed.

.

.

.

A deafening bang rang out. Birds flocked away from the campsite in a hurry. Another bang, nearly identical to the first, followed. The dead silence that came next was broken by a thud.

Charles startled awake, something burdensome laying on his body. With a single glance at the weight, his world stopped.

A soldier, blood dripping down his face, laid dead there.

At that moment, the dim morning skies turned pitch black, the surrounding forest contorting into the cramped alleyway.

The soldier started morphing into the man. The man from the alleyway. The man he killed.

He stared at the man with wide eyes. The man stared back, right into his soul. The man he killed stared back at him.

Charles' whole body trembled as he tried to scramble backwards, yet the man's hands gripped his legs. It felt like his feet were being ripped off, but he continued to put up a struggle.

A startling noise rang out again, right next to his ear. Within moments, the alleyway dissolved, the skies changed color and the man before him turned back into the corpse he first saw.

"Ye a'ight?" Charles instantly spotted the gun in Raymond's hands.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," Charles responded. "Just got a little spooked."

"How'd ye get into the army, being a wuss like that?" Raymond asked, pulling Charles' attention away from the corpse. Charles said nothing in return, just scrambling to make sure the gun was in his pockets. Checking twice over before getting up.

///

The two trekked through the forest in silence. Charles already winded out from the walk while Raymond seemed to be in prime condition.

"I'm waiting on yer ass to explain the floatin' bullet," Raymond suddenly spoke up. Charles cocked his head to the side, not understanding what the man meant.

"The man shot a bullet right into yer 'ead, yet it just floated there like a balloon."

Charles' eyes widened in understanding, "I know nothing bout that. I don't think I was even awake. I just heard the gunshots."

Raymond stared at him, a doubting look in his eyes, "A'ight. Ye might wanna look into it, who knows, maybe yer one of 'em people from 'em comic books that the kiddos love."

Charles shrugged, not knowing what to respond with. The man certainly had a point there, though. His thoughts were contradicting with his earlier wishes for the future, but now the idea of learning about the origin of his "powers" and how to use them would certainly be beneficial.

Maybe if he could show the government that he was a special human with incredible powers, all his previous acts would be pardoned? They did that for rich people, didn't they?

But that could wait for now. Superpowers weren't real. There would be an explanation for everything and he would find out about it when the time was right.

The two continued walking in silence, camping out the night once again, this time with no incidents, then getting back on the road the next day.

They hardly conversed, and Charles was beginning to think that he might not like Raymond very much as a person.

///

Charles stared at his surroundings as they walked through the town. The place was so different. Everywhere they went, the fresh and slightly sweet aroma of hay followed them. Although the people that passed by were few, they always gave them a polite smile or wave.

Silence reigned over the place. Many of the windows closed off with wooden planks and stalls that sold everyday products were closed.

Raymond led him through the city, until they neared a brick house, smoke coming from the chimney. Five oddly tempoed knocks later, the sound of a lock being unlocked echoed out, before a crack in the door appeared.

"Mr. Moores?" the person behind the door said in nothing more than a whisper.

"No, ma'am. I am colonel Grumpione. On our way to the meetup spot, we encountered trouble and decided that we should head straight here instead," Raymond said, his tone much quieter than usual and his speech much more formal. Something Charles instantly picked up on.

At those words, the door opened with a creak. An elderly woman stood there, leaning heavily on her cane.

"Come on in," the woman said with a slight smile. The two followed the woman into the kitchen, where she told them to sit down while she went to prepare them tea.

"I'm still in the dark here," Charles told Raymond.

"You'll be told what is necessary for you to know. Just don't cause any commotion nor attract any attention to yerself. All will be fine, then."

"What's with the change in attitude?"

Raymond stiffened up, yet offered no answer. The woman soon returned with a tray, Raymond standing up to help the woman out.

"Well, I'm sure Sean already told you, but I'm Marie Carni. I'm mighty grateful for your work here, and so very enthusiastic to see the town back to how it was before," Marie said with a broad smile, taking a seat opposite to Charles and Raymond.

"If you need anything, be a dear and ask me. If I can't directly help you boys out, I'm sure I can talk someone in the town to help you out," she said with a giggle.

"When do you think Sean will be here? It's been a while since we've met. A good decade if my memory isn't fooling me," she added.

"I'm sure it is," Raymond's voice rang out. Charles whipped his head towards him, surprised to hear those words, yet the man was peacefully sipping at his tea while Marie seemed to be dreamily staring at the ceiling.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know Se- Sgt. Moores?" Charles piped up.

"Oh, don't be shy. Sean used to serve in the same company as my son. Unfortunately, the two were separated when my son was transferred to a group called KIA. It's been quite a while since we last saw each other, but I receive a letter every month," she said, smiling brightly.

"That is very nice." Charles offered her a smile, glancing at Raymond's reaction to her words.

Raymond twitched, and Charles' suspicions were confirmed. The people who told her that were some real assholes.

Charles chatted with the woman for quite a while longer, before the sun disappeared over the horizon and it was time to head to sleep.

Marie had shown them to their room. Raymond had flaked out in minutes, yet Charles was unable to do the same. There was an uneasiness he felt regarding the situation they were in and the place they were at.

The alleyway incident was haunting him, as well, constantly occupying his mind when nothing else did.

By the time Charles fell asleep, the sun had already begun to show itself in the skies above.