Dedicated to Nameless from Pokrovskiy
0
Joker
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Madness and control
When action is required, willpower is needed to accomplish it. Cast aside all hesitation, boldly follow a new path.
The expression on the face of their commander Atley Alis was confident and firm, there was not a drop of fear or doubt, not even any excitement. And it was very much felt that Lis was not playing, and this was not a pretense, not a mask of confidence, put on the face of an inside frightened and confused person, but a real inner strength that came from the depths and involuntarily reflected on his face. Both the commanders and the mercenary soldiers: the unclean and black, seeing such Lis, perked up, calmed down and also with joyful excitement, casting aside doubts and fear, rushed to carry out his quick and clear orders. And, if at first, perhaps, they were a little confused, now there is no trace of their confusion.
Marcus was standing at the top of the fortress wall, his head bare, on which dark hair had grown slightly. His face, under the very eyes, so as to hide the shameful tattoo, was covered with a black mask-shield.
“Fast! Explain how to proceed!” Lis nodded a little nervously towards the box. They used the reds’ supplies and poured the “mixture” that Marcus made into their stock. Marcus began to show, he set fire to the fuse himself, which was surprising, because he was a scientist, not a warrior, threw the ball far down from the wall into the enemy crowd. There was a deafening roar, fire broke out and smoke poured out. From the explosion, the reds scattered like chips in different directions. Kors’ mercenaries grabbed the balls: they understood everything. Marcus looked at what he had done with a crazy, unseeing look; even through the roar, the screams of the wounded and crippled people were heard. He turned to Lis, and he bared his teeth in satisfaction:
“Run, do more! More is needed!” Lis turned to the black warriors. “Help him fill up the gunpowder and bring it here! Faster!”
“Yes, sir!” Marcus shouted, and as if not realizing that he had killed or maimed several people with his own hand, he rushed down the stairs to his workshop. Marcus was in euphoria, some kind of frenzy and wanted to fight like everyone else, and only later he would be able to soberly think about it.
