Damian
Rebel Camps. Southern Wall underground
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Damian had a frequent frazzled feeling, the feeling of unease, of insecurity since Lance visited them. The rarest of times he had these feelings ever since he joined the rebel faction, and had grown into likeness to his comrades, to the community, and even what they built inside the tunnels.
The feeling gave him paranoia of some sort, checking his weapon so frequently – the ammo inside the magazine, the safety switch, even he dismantled it as he cleaned and oiled the components.
'If only these were laser guns, I don't have to oil them.' Damian grunted.
His comrades did the same, too. As soon as word had spread, a word about the Special Homeland Forces.
