
“Why are we still here? Just to suffer? Every night, I can feel my leg… and my arm… even my fingers. The body I’ve lost… the comrades I’ve lost… won’t stop hurting… It’s like they’re all still there. You feel it, too, don’t you?”

This was a joke I couldn’t resist. And for that, I am sorry.
=============================
Alternatively they’d probably say some rather strong things about the way I run this plot; like why so many GOD DAMN TEARS?
I’m dangerous with plot. Dangerous, I tell you.
Dangerous.
Nothing is sacred.
Nothing is safe.





















