02.04.202X - Bastards
02.04.202X - BASTARDS Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Fuck the rain, fuck the asphalt, fuck running away. He wouldn't have believed it if he heard it yesterday, not with a hand on the bible, not under oath of perjury. Why now? He'd just gotten two weeks of leave approved, he'd just gotten away from the giant pressure cookers at Blue Grass and the fucking poisons they were “neutralizing”, he'd promised the wife he'd finally prioritize being a good fucking father figure to Tina, but instead– Him. A deserter. Leaving his post, leaving his comrades, leaving everything behind. Not in a million years. Never. fuck the gravel and fuck the disease and fuck the rain and Still, what choice was there? He let out a shaky, raw breath, copper in his mouth and lungs, raw, bloody copper ripping his throat open like a million hooks forcing their way out through his windpipe, and he kept going. A tired eye trained on the treeline, he cursed and swore and grit his tee