Fandom JJBA: Warring Affinity

[Moonlessite]

Monday. November 10th. 1940.

A Ten-hut! Roared into the air. Sergeant Malik stood tall, around six foot, with both arms folded behind his back. The dark, almost forest green uniform property worn and tucked in. Fort Benning, a Amrit training camp. Known for some of the greatest soldiers to ever go out to serve. Now, due to the pressure of the war over Europe, any training for the effort were cut in half. It seemed the boys in Washington had decided that more men on the front lines were more important than properly trained men.

“I said Ten-hut!” Malik repeated, as those, still very green looking soon to be fighting soldiers, rushed into formation. Malik was forty. A few scars existed across his face from his own time serving. Though, despite that and his booming voice, he was a rather calm man. “Today marks our last week together, before you lot are sent off to win the war.” He started to pace side to side, tracing the men. “I have done everything in my power to prepare you for said War. Some of you will never see those standing besides you know, ever again. So I want all of you, to take this time to give your fellow brothers in arm, one final smile.”

The order was out. And slowly, the private’s began to glance side to side. In the second row, Jonah Joestar stood, with his arms to his side. Slowly, his chin turned to each side. Both light blue eyes taking up and down of those besides him.

That was one way to start the morning off...” He thought, noting the man to his right. Private Kelly. A young man from New York.

----

It was early. Too early, at that. And far too early to be getting yelled at. And, on top of that, it was way, way too early to think about the fact they'd probably wouldn't be alive by the end of the year.

Mord fought back a yawn, listening to what Sergeant Malik had to tell them. That man... had put them through way too much trouble. He had to be thankful he still had his legs. Yet, he had to admit, that sergeant had gone through a lot to prepare them. For what? To win the war, of course. Because it was a given that they were going to win. Sure, they had powerful countries on their side, but those bad guys sure seemed scary, too. At Malik's last words, he glanced from side to side. It was weird. There were so many privates, but he knew almost all of them by name. To his right was Private Lawson and Private George, and to his left was Private Kelly, a boy from New York, and... Private Joestar.

Ugh.

How didn't he notice he was so close to him? Mord couldn't stand the punk's stench. Grounding his teeth together, he rolled his eyes and averted his eyes. No matter what he seemed to do, that Joestar kid somehow got close to him. They always sat together when they ate, or were near each other went they went to take a piss... hell, even their bunks were close to one another. It was so terrible, that people started to think they were friends. I'm the furthest thing from his friend, he thought to himself as he accidentally made eye contact with Jonah, quickly looking away afterwards. I'm not goin' outta my way to save him if I gotta.

 

[Bocaj]

It seemed their time at Fort Benning was coming to a end. Malik made it seem like life in general was coming to an end for them all. And maybe it was. Maybe their drill Sergeant was right, after this final week, the majority of the young men standing out under the sun were going to sleep six feet under. However, none of those thoughts found their way into Jonah’s mind. Instead, the young Joestar kept a firm mind- once their training was over, they were one step closer to ending the war.

His brother, Jacob, had been fighting since th moment America joined the conflict. He was fighting to end this mess, stop the Axis powers from conquering the world, stopping Hitler from his ideals. Soon, Jonah would be doing the same.

“Alright, listen up!”
Malik spoke up again, stopping in the center of the young men, his arms folded behind his back. “I want everyone to get their packs packed. We’re going on a five mile run to the shooting range. Final day of gun practice before the War boys! “With that, and one more chant, that was their order to rush back to their barracks and pack their rucksacks. Boots shuffled and aimed away. Jonah along side those moving.

 

[Moonlessite]

It seemed like their sergeant had something else for them to do, at last. Which was good, because he was tired of standing around waiting for orders. They'd go to the barracks to pack for the shooting range. Slowly, the soldiers shuffled towards the barracks, some of them sticking to miniature groups as they moved. Mord watched them for a second before spotting Jonah. Great. He'd forgotten he would probably bump into him on the way there. Cursing under his breath, he set off on a brisk walk, set on catching up to the slightly taller male. When he did, he shoved past him roughly.

"Watch where you're goin', Joestar," Mord growled at him. Maybe, if he showed that he wasn't in the mood to deal with him today, he'd back off. "Got your head up your ass, or somethin'?"

 

[Bocaj]

As the shoulder pushed pass, his lighter eyes turned to see who it belonged to. Morered Fustang. Just like everyone else here, he was a young able bodied man, going into training. However, he seemed to have been rubbed the wrong way, or at least towards Jonah. The young Joestar never understood why. It was only nature people stuck together in such a place for weeks would form their small circles. Jonah never actually questioned or hit into Fustang. He had tried to start a conversation here or there, since thy seemed to grivated towards the same people, but still.

“Eh..”
A silent breath pushed from his lips. It wasn’t worth fighting over. They were on the same Side, or did Fustang forget that? He watched as the other seemed to pick his pace up; while the barracks was coming closer. “Sorry.” A quiet, unneeded apology came out.

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred grinned sharply at Jonah's apology. It seemed like he was submissive under his aggression, which was pleasing, but not much fun. There wasn't much he could do to instigate the guy, was there? Pushing, insulting, even threatening... the reaction always seemed to be the same. A mere sorry in that quiet voice of his. His momentary satisfaction turned into a frustrated scowl. This guy was so boring. All the other soldiers would have fought and spat at each other by now. What was Joestar going to do when he had to fight against the enemy?

"Yeah, ya better be sorry. Cause if you weren't sorry, I'd shove my foot up your ass!" Mordred yelled in a voice that was a few octaves higher. The barracks were close, now. The other soldiers were staring at them haphazardly. Whatever. Scoffing, Mord made a beeline to his bunk, kneeling down in order to grab his stuff from under his bed.

 

[Bocaj]

It was definetely good they were part of the same army, Joestar thought to himself, as they entered the barracks. Lines of bunk beds all down the main resting area. Under each and to the side, were crates and chests. Small belongings of each solider were within these, as well as their rifles- the Army favored over, say the Marines or even the Navy, the M1 Grand. a .30-06 caliber semi-automatic rifle, designed by a Canadian-American Gun smith. It was trusted rifle, though, held around eight shots per cap. So, any solider using said rifle was encouraged to carry multiple caps with them.

Jonah, despite hating the idea of a war, fighting and shooting other people, couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of satifcation when firing his rifle- that he had named after his own Mother- Rose. Every round fired off offered a small ‘Ping!” Of an echo due to the materials the guns were crafted from.
With his rucksack packed, a canteen of water against his belt,Jonah was ready to start this small hike. The shooting range existed over a small hill, out of curisty to the other groups of training men while sleeping. Every segrant had their own routines.

With their boot scruffing the dirt path, they were off. Malik chanting a marching theme, which those behind him would due the same. However, the young Joestar couldn’t help but notice how cramped and oddly shaped most other’s packs were. Unlike them, he had taken the time to organize his own, using as much space as properly as he could- only resulting in less stres on his back compared to Private Miller, who had stuffed way too much into his own bag, that it spilling out almost!

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred's bag was much like most all other soldiers. It wasn't because he was in a rush to join the group heading to the shooting range, but because he honestly didn't care what the bag looked like. Of course, there was Miller, who seemed like everything was going to pour out of his bag. Well, that wasn't smart. But neither was Private Cobbler's idea of bringing along practically nothing. Had the guy even brought a water canister? The idiot was going to be parched by the time they got to the range...

Malik was intent on having them chant on the way to the range, and that was what he did. At least he'd have something to distract himself with until they got to actually do something. He was excited to see how well his aim had improved over time.

Eventually, they were able to get there, and everyone began to settle down and start to get in place to shoot. It wasn't Mordred's turn yet to shoot, however, but he pulled off his bag and began to set up his gun.

 

[Bocaj]

Ping!

Ping! PIng! PING!

Rifles went off, the sound of the brass bullets smacking against the metal framed targets, some set further than others echoed into the bright sky. Out of the platoon that Jonah found himself in, it was Private Kelly who had to be the best shot. The Young Joestar himself wasn’t horrible by any means. In fact, he was a rather decent shot. Just not the best, or so with the M1 Grand. His side arm, which did not recieve a name, a M19111 Colt pistol, was his true gunman skills. Holding eight rounds, like the rifle, the American pistol was by far his favorite weapon to fire off.

The privates were granted acess to more, intense fire arms during their training. Private Williams enjoyed using a ‘Browing’ machine gun, due to its destructive power- however, its wieght was a down flaw. Jonah had no desire to use such a powerful gun. His rifle and pistol would do fine.
When it came for the Joestar to fire, he took aknee to the ground, proping one arm up and began to shoot. His bullets more aimed to the side of his target. He figured, anyone could aim for the center, but to aim for a more specific spot showed more skill.

 

[Moonlessite]

Much like the other privates, Mordred had two weapons at his disposal. The first was the M1 Garand, which he affectionately called Baby, and the other was a simple revolver he used during times of need. He had a good eye, great at that, but it was nothing like Kelly's precision when shooting. He respected the man, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. With a shot like that, any German soldier was bound to tremble in fear. As for Jonah...

"Oi, Jon... Joestar," he stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a less than adequate nickname for the guy. "Jojo! With that shitty aim, you'll be lucky to hit the air next to one of those helmetheads!"

With that, Mord took position, aiming at one of the targets in front them. Two shots rang out as each bullet hit near the center. "Now see, that's a good shot," he praised himself, giving a sidelong glare at the other private. "If ya shoot like ya do now, they'll make ya into swiss cheese 'fore ya can even beg for your mama!"

 

[Bocaj]

Exhaling, the young Joestar looked to his side. Of course, it was Mordred. It seemed he had something to pick with Jonah the second the two had come in contact. But, it did t make any sense to the brunette. They were not only in the same platoon, but the same army, at the same training camp. They ought to act like brothers, but with that mindset, Modred did slightly remind him of his older sibling, Jacob.
“As long as I am aiming at the Germans, I think we’re alright,” jonah offered back, as calmly as one could.

With the hard knock, and slight shake of the rifle, he knew the mag was empty. He rose to his feet firmly. In the blink of an eye, drew the pistol from his side, and fired two quick shots: the first falling victim of the fast motion, as the second came close to a direct bullseye.
The nick name, or more so insult wasn’t too uncommon of one used against him. A few young friends would use the term, “Jojo” in a teasing manner. So, hearing it uttered here wasn’t anything new.

 

[Moonlessite]

Mord snorted, turning away with another roll of his eyes. He turned back to his target, once again taking aim and firing. This time, the bullet found itself very close to the center of the target. Another good shot. He didn't bother saying anything to Jojo, instead focusing on how close he could get to the center of the target. Meanwhile, the male next to him was able to fire two well-placed shots on his target. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he knew exactly what the brunette was doing. He was trying to prove a point. To him? Seriously? "Ya know, I should--" he began as he straightened his back and pointed a finger at him.

"Jonah, that was a good shot!" said a smaller soldier as he approached.

Crap. It was Private Lawson again. Mord let out a little "tsk", turning away from both of them and muttering yet another set of insults under his breath.

Lawson tipped his head to the side, giving Mordred a strange look before turning back to Jonah. "What's up with him? Does he have bees for brains?"

 

[Bocaj]

“Nah, not at all.” Jonah shook his head, as his M1911 was holstered again. Another satisfying motion and sound, at least to the Joestar, was the motion of a pistol sliding back down. When they recieved their side-arm, that was somehting Jonah found himself doing, over and over again. Pulling it from the canvas holster on his side. Of course, due to the flimsy material of the holster, it would get caught and the notion was ruined to a degree. But, when done correctly, it was oddly nice.

His eyes turned back to Mordred, who was firing away now. He didn’t hate him, just found him to be quite the confrontational type; which wasn’t a bad thing either. For a war? The Army and the Allies needed solider smile that. That was certain. Maybe he had the need to prove himself, or maybe he just enjoyed fighting, still, Jonah didn’t hold that against him. “Anyway, you ready to go hunt down Adolf Hitler in about a week?”

It had become a small joke within the Army base, considering the majority of the men here would probably be sent over seas towards Japan, rather than Europe and fight the Germans. The war was a two front problem, after all. Lawson was a good man, at least someone Jonah could consider a friend here,

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred tried his best to focus on shooting his rifle, reloading every so often as he attempted to distract himself. But Jojo's and Lawson's conversation was cutting into his concentration, which bothered him. Why couldn't they just shoot like normal people? They just had to go and joke around. Did they think they were going to play a game? His bitterness was beginning to affect his aim, and his bullets landed further and further away from the center.

"Hell yeah, I can't wait to put a bullet between his eyes!" Lawson answered Jojo, tapping the side of his helmet for emphasis. "I don't doubt that we'll put him in the ground before Christmas!"

Another "tsk" stemmed from Mordred's mouth. He was out of ammo again. "Can you girls go giggle somewhere else?" he sneered.

"Jeez, Mordred, what's gotten into you lately?" Lawson's smile fell. "It's like someone put a snake in your bed or some--"

Within in an instant, Mordred was nose to nose with Lawson. His temper was boiling over, but that was because the kid was instigating him. "Ya got a problem?"

 

[Bocaj]

There was no need for this.

Exhaling, Jonah side stepped as the two were face to face. He knew well, if this escalated any further, all three of them, yes all three would be in trouble; Jonah more or less roped in to rbeing so close. Malik didn’t care about those who didn’t do anything, when dishing out punishments. Malik was also the type to break a fight up with his fists, if needed too...

“Hey hey, “ trying to sound as calm as possible, the young Joestar held his hands up stepping closer to both Mordred and Lawson. “Guys, let’s calm down here. “ he was about to suggest it was the heat getting to them all. It was Georgie after all. The heat lingered more of the year. Though, he knew better. That would only set Mordred off even more. His temper would probably get him killed once they were off fight.
“Let’s just clam down, before Malik starts yelling at us.” Again.

 

[Moonlessite]

Lawson's expression was not one of anger or frustration, but instead of confusion and worry. The eighteen year old was not one for fighting, especially between soldiers who should treat one another like family. So when Mordred was keen on starting something between them, and Jonah went to intervene, he took a couple steps back and shook his head. "Just forget about it, Mord. I don't wanna get beat up by the sarge."

Mordred seemed to deflate a little, glancing between both of them before he furrowed his brow. He spat angrily towards their feet before he turned away and stalked off.

Lawson scratched behind his back, giving Jonah a glance. "That guy's trouble, man. I'd stay away from him..."

~~~

Unfortunately for Jonah, that would be easier said than done.

In the middle of the night, at about 23:00, both Mordred and Jonah were hastily woken up by Malik. A soldier had gone missing, he said, and someone had to get off their asses to get up and look for them. And so, a very tired and half-awake Mordred was forced to pair up with Jonah. Again.

A very loud yawn escaped him as they walked down a narrow forest path. It was the same one they traversed on the way to the shooting range. But it was extremely dark, so much so that Mordred's flashlight hardly illuminated the brush to their left and right. Honestly, he was a little on edge because of their lack of vision.

On top of that, he felt a vague feeling of someone watching them. But it must have been his paranoia acting up.

"Seriously, what type of dumbass comes out here in the middle of the night?" Mordred muttered to himself, lazily swinging the flashlight to their left. Nope, no one there, either.

 

[Bocaj]

What little time that was offered to sleep on any military base was almost criminally short, despite being a proper amount of time for most. Even though, Jonah attempted each night to get as much sleep as possible; he knew that actually on the front lines, sleep would be one thing his mind just wouldn’t factor in anymore.
As they went down the forest path once more, Jonah kept his left hand to his side.Malik allowed them both to carry a side arm along with them, during this search.No rifles, just any pistols the two had chosen, in case of some enemy attack. It was completely unlikely that a German spy or Japanese bomber would be here now, but there was no risking it.

“I think Malik said his name was Patrick? He’s not part of our platoon, I know that much.” Joestar offered, as some middel ground conversation piece, as the two paced along. Not that Mordred cared for who he was paired with, Jonah didn’t even have to ask on that account.
As the road started to turn, the sound of bushing rustling about caughtthe brunette’s attention. A hand went up, stopping the man besides him from moving any further; while his own shoulders tensed up. His eyes turning towards what he assumed to be the source of the sound. His free hand had moved to his side, towards the canvas holster. But, that’s when the rustling had stopped,seconds before a flash light could be shined over.

”I know you heard that...” Jonah sighed.

However, a new sound sent chills up his back. Stepping onto the road before them, a few feet ahead, was something or someone.Tall, clsoer to six foot, if not over, with long deshoved haired. Somehow, even with the flashlight shinning over, the man that stood before them, his face was covered with shadows. His uniform, of sorts, a yellow-tan color. Before anything could be spoken, the newcomer rose a hand, with something extending from it.
Without much time to really react, Jonah’s instanct was to push the man besides him back, as a nuzzle flare went off! BANG! A second later, the young Joestar looked down, as sharp pain began to pulse. A hole, now existed in the center of his chest. He collasped a second later, with a loud thud. His eyes going strtaight up into the night sky, though, as his world turned more bright, the night sky looked more like the middel of the day...

His hands though, struggled for what time he had left, searching for something in a pouch. Finding a stick like flare, he tore the top off, allowing the dancing flames to sprinkle out....before his own light went out.

 

[Moonlessite]

Patrick. What kind of name was that? The name of an idiot, that's what. Mord gave a huff of annoyance, once again turning the flashlight towards the brush. Here and there, he saw some nocturnal animals shuffle through the foliage. But there still wasn't a sign of human life. Where could this guy have gone?

As they continued down the road, Jojo held him back. Something caught his attention. Usually, Mordred would tell him it could have been another animal. But the rustle was clumsy, heavier. Before they knew it, someone was blocking their path. Someone with disheveled hair. Someone who bore a uniform he hadn't seen before.

Jojo was quick to act. Mordred yelped as he was shoved backwards at the same time as a gunshot rang out. The other man collapsed right after. His frustration and anger quickly morphed into terror. "Jojo!" he cried out, a trembling hand reaching for his holster. But the mysterious figure had terrifying precision and aim. Another gunshot rang out. Something pierced his shoulder, right under his collarbone. Mordred coughed in pain before he collapsed on his side.

As blood welled out underneath him, Mord's vision became foggy and unfocused. "Hah... hah..." he wheezed out. It hurt to even breathe. Jojo laid very still. Was he dead? Was he going to die, too? When he didn't even get the chance to fight?

The last thing he saw was the flare fizzle out in the sky above them. Then, Mordred fell into a deep, heavy sleep.

~~~

Mordred woke up with a start.

Gasping, he shot up into a sitting position. His eyes were still blurry, and so he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. After a few moments, he realized he was in the infirmary. Light filtered into the room as specks of dust floated in the space. Mordred blinked a few times, suddenly feeling light-headed and nauseous. He ground his teeth and pressed his palm in his face. "Ugh..."

"Ah, you're awake!" said a small nurse that had been nearby. She had short, tawny brown hair and freckles. Walking over, she touched his face. "No fever, too..."

Mordred was too weary to pull away. "What... happened?"

"A search party found you and your friend collapsed in the woods, and--"

Panic swallowed him. Mordred reached to his shoulder. No wound. No pain. Not even stitches. "We... we got shot..."

"Shot?" the nurse looked confused. "You didn't come in with wounds, dear. Both of you were out cold on the ground. Head nurse said it could have been exhaustion. You've been asleep for about a week--"

A week?!

Mordred groaned and leaned back into the bed. "S-shit..." he grumbled. "And the other one..?"

"He's still sleeping, hun. But he's starting to stir, so he'll be up soon."

 

[Bocaj]

What was it like, dying?

As the light faded out, Jonah assumed for the last moments he could recall, that was it.The end. The black empty void. However, it seemed fate was on another path, bringing along the Joestar. A week passed, and he was held in the infirmary. On a bed, he rested, eyes tightly shut- though the hole that once existed in his chest, was gone. No scars, besides the birth mark he already had, no bandages. Anyone looking on him, would see a young man, appearing to be asleep. Nothing more.
__________

Outside the main rooms, out in an office, shouting was going on.

“You don’t get to just storm onto my training base, and demand to seem my wounded!”

It was Malik.

”Well,ya don’t really have a choice, do you?” Another voice barked back, one deeper in tone. An accent as well lingered with the words. “Washington approved of this, and I wouldn’t have flownall the way here, if it wasn’t important.” A small scoff followed.

”If you are so dead set on seeing two soliders, so be it, nothing special about what happened to them!”

___

Moments later, the doors opened. Malik, along side two other privates lead the new voice. It belonged to a man, who’s scruffy attire-BDU’s, were worn to a degree. His boots, had lost the darken color, and more fade dnow. His jacket and pants, that were once atoned down green, were more tan now. A Union Jack elmblem of a patch existed on his shoulder, while another was on the remaining shoulder. His face, covered with thick dark brown hair, minus his chin. Two darkgrey eyes, and a large cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Ahh, there’s one now.” The man murmured, as he started off towards Mordred, passing the nurse with no sense of asking to do so. His eyes set on the young man, who was sitting.“Greetings private, I hope your nap did you well.” The man spoke, studying Mordred carefully, at times his eyes went around the young man.
“How do you feel?”

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred sat for a while, trying to get rid off the sickening feeling that flooded him. The nurse had given him some light food-- a plate of biscuits and some water -- to settle his stomach. He painstakingly ate them, finding his mouth and throat dry. His stomach thanked him, and little by little, his appetite began to open up.

It was only a few moments of rest, though, for an older man in uniform approached him within minutes of finishing his breakfast. Even the nurse was surprised by his presence, sheepishly stepping aside when the man spoke.

Mordred looked drearily up at the man, trying to sit up as much as he could. If he was referring to him as private, then he had to be someone of importance. "I feel like I've been thrown under a car, sir," he mumbled. "I've been asleep for a whole bloody week."

 

[Bocaj]

A half smirk paced across his face, as he looked at Mordred. Curly bangs hung over the man’s face, adding a slight sheen of sweat emphasizing his forehead. Still, the man kept himself firm and up right. The disheveled appearance could have been caused by many things. “Well son, you were out for a week. When it happened to me, I was out almost two.” The man explained, fore gripping the young soldier’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet.
He looked at Mordred directly for a minute, before a small glance behind the young man was taken, of course there was no one behind him. However, something seemed to catch the older man’s attention. The smile cocked more, as he tipped the cigar to the side, and allowed a huff of smoke to leak out.

“He’s got it!”
A chuckle followed. The man released Mordred and took a step back. “He’s so got it. Lovely,” clapping his hands, his eyes turned. “So where is the other lad?” Snapping his fingers, the older man glanced to the nurse, “c’mon las, I don’t have all day. “ His fingers snapped faster.

“Um...there...!” She quickly pointed at the bed Jonah Joestar was still laying on. “H-he hasn’t waken up yet..”

“Where did he get shot?” His boots tapped against the floor , as he stopped before the bed with Jonah.

“Sir....they didn’t have any wounds when we-“

“I know that! Boy!” His eyes turned to Mordred. “Where was this one shot?”

 

[Moonlessite]

The man was... eccentric, to say the least. Mordred couldn't help but sweat a little, what with his intense stare and all. The smell of cigar smoke bothered him as well; he actually didn't mind smoking, as he smoked every once in a while, but it messed with his head at the moment. Sniffing, he rubbed his nose. Maybe the man was just looking him over to see if he was wounded any further. Concussion, maybe. Or maybe some sort of illness that he had. Either way, the guy seemed like he was experienced. Perhaps he could--

Suddenly, he grabbed his chin, forcing him into eye contact. Mordred attempted to pull away in shock, but the grip on his chin was strong. The man's stare was intense, as if he could see straight through him. He didn't notice the glance behind him, instead waving away the smoke that had gathered about his face and coughing. Apparently, he had gotten something. What that thing was, exactly, he had no idea. Lice? Cataracts? The thing Mordred had had put the guy in a cot for two weeks, or so he said. It had to be some sort of disease.

Just was worry began to grip him, the man's attention turned to Jonah. The nurse insisted that they weren't wounded, becoming flustered under the man's questions. So, did they get shot, or not? Was it a hallucination? A dream?

"H-huh? Oh," Mordred stammered, drawn from his worried thoughts as he was questioned. "Thi... think he got shot in his upper belly... or was it his chest..? Y-yeah, it was his chest, I remember!"

Now that he thought about it, he didn't see any wounds on Jojo, either. Not from his angle, anyway. Mordred narrowed his eyes, staring at the back of the man's head. "Hey... s-sir. Wha' do I have..? Is it some sort of lead poisonin'?"

 

[Bocaj]

Narrator’s voice.

The man standing before Mordred Fustang, was none other than British Captain Tobias MacMillan.
Born in 1894, he grew up outside of London to a less than stellar family. Working hard to make a name for himself, Tobias was drafted into the first World War. At the time, the world had not seen such destructive forces and conflict,and Tobias was a young man caught up in the gear of it all. Suruving the war, Tobias remianed in the British army, working his way up to the rank of Captain.
Currently, 46 years old, single and no children-that he knows of. About a year ago, a myerstious man sporting a tannishg uniform appeared before Tobias and fired a shot at him- stirking the Captain in his left pectoral muscle. He was out cold for nine days.
Tobias hates the idea of war, after expecering it first hand. However, he was awfully good at combat, with 36 confirmed kills from the First World War. With the world crawling into another, he found himself back in in the fray.
His Hobbies include, sketching, smoking, jogging, and light meditation when he can. After reports of another mysertious man appearing on an US Army training base, Tobias found himself in the meeting with the Allies Powers. An invesigation under the identity of this war criminal was to be preformed under the books. Lead by Tobias himself.

“Shush boy!”
MacMillan demanded, as he turned the slightly to his side Jonah, up right. “Hmmm..” a dissatifed groan of a him left his lips. “Still out cold. Oi!” His eyes shot to the nurse, “get me a pitcher of ice watter, fast!” He commanded, and the young woman stumbled about to fullfill the request. Another puff of smoke released from the ciager, as MacMillan turned back to Mordred.

“What did the man look like? The one that shot you lot?” He questioned, just as firmly, shoving the cigar to the other side of his mouth. “And what about his gun? Did you see anything at all, are you just brain dead?” A slight annoyance followed with each word, as his eyes laid on Mord.

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred blinked in surprise when the man silenced him. Well, that was something. He seemed like he was a tough one, on top of being loud and mysterious in his own way. He huffed, glaring at him as he sent the nurse away. For some reason, Mord felt like he wasn't supposed to be there. His confusion turned into anger when the man outright insulted him.

"It was dark, m'kay?! We didn't expect to get shot! The guy was tall and he had messy hair. I didn't even see what the guy shot us with," Mordred scoffed as the nurse scampered back with the jar of water. "Y'know, you're askin' too many questions and not answering any of mine. The hell is goin' on? We were shot, but I don't even got a scar. There's gotta be a reason we've been out for a damn week! Answer me, god dammit!"

Mordred didn't even care who he was talking to at the moment. He was scared, not only for himself, but honestly for Jojo as well. Something happened, but he didn't know if it was a bad thing or horrible thing. What if they were dying? What if it happened with other people? Did he have to start writing his will? He sure hoped not. Nevertheless, he stared at the back of his head, sitting up straight as he confronted the man. He needed answers!

 

[Bocaj]

“Oi! I said quiet boy! That is no way to address a superior rank!” MacMillan barked back, the cigar bouncing on his bottom lip as he did. Despite what those around might have thought, he did hold the highest rank within the room. Special orders granted not only by the British Prime Minister, but also the President of the United States, MacMillan had more than enough rights to be here, right now.
Malik stood still, his own fists tightening with a bit of anger-but he knew better than to break the chain of command. Even though he wanted to.

The British man took the jar, and without warning dropped it over the bed that rested Jonah.

“Ugh...!Ahhhhh!”
Jonah cried out, as he jolted up faster than a blink. His brunette hair soaked back now, as his light eyes blinked curiously around. His breaths turned to more huffs, as confusion set in Eve more. Who was this man before him? Where was he? Why were there so many eyes on him now...?


“Good, now that you are up,” MacMillan tossed the jar.

“Umm..who are-!”
He quickly shut up, as like Mordred, his chin was gripped with callus filled hand. MacMillan hummed again.

“He’s got it too! Seems like my little trip here wasn’t wasted.” The older man finally dropped the mostly smoked cigar to the ground. His right boot soon stomped down on it, before he turned and expected Malik to follow.

 

[Moonlessite]

Mordred went red with anger, wishing he could just get what he wanted. The way he was being treated was like... an experiment, or something. Like if what happened to them was planned... he shook the thought off, once again running a hand through his greasy hair, before flinching at what happened next. The guy had thrown the water upon Jojo's head. The other soldier woke up with a start, before beginning to ask the right question. But the man was not keen on answering. Shit.

When the two commanding officers left, Mordred turned to Jojo. Honestly, his presence was still annoying. But the frustration and fear he felt overshadowed the harsh feelings. "'m not crazy, right?" he shook his head as he spoke. "We left that night... and then, someone ambushed and shot us. But we don't got any wounds, and our clothes aren't even stained with blood. And that guy's actin' like it's just another weekday!"

He slumped back, staring at the ceiling. Something was still nagging him. Mordred turned and glared at Jojo, but didn't scowl. Or hiss, or spit. No, his voice was level and cool as he spoke. "Don't ever do that shit again, Jojo. Tryin' to save me an' all. I can fend for myself-- don't need no Joestar helpin' me."