The glow of the monitor painted Bernard's face in shifting hues of blue and grey. Two days. Two long days since Bytebull's World War 2: Frontlines had launched, and the anticipation still thrummed under his skin, a live wire.
He'd made his choice. USA. Airborne.
A click. A confirmation.
The loading screen flickered, then solidified.
His heart, a frantic drummer, hammered against his ribs. Everyone who knew anything about the war, about the legends, wanted in on one specific unit.
Easy Company…
The thought echoed in his mind, a fervent wish.
Everyone wants in after that Lieutenant Winters video.
That fan-made tribute, a compilation of grainy footage and stirring music, had cemented the lieutenant as a near-mythical figure in the pre-launch hype.
That guy's a legend, even if he's 'just' based on the TV show.
Bernard leaned closer to the screen, his fingers drumming a restless tattoo on the desk.
