You get a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. This John fellow spent the better part of his night with a lady friend voicing his discontent with the War and Witches in particular. After she walked out, you didn't think you'd see him again, let alone recognize him, yet here he is. You stare, not sure what to make of him. Evidence of heavy drinking surrounds him. Several empty glasses sit on the counter in front of him, his posture slumped and melancholic. He doesn't seem to have reacted to Rae's declaration; hopefully he either didn't hear or doesn't care. He instead takes another sip of what you assume is beer (you've never been much for alcohol) and continues to sit and stew. "Are you alright, Cleona?" Miranda's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a concerned hand on your shoulder. "Everyone's already seated." "Oh, sorry. Just zoned out is all," you respond.
Indeed, the only ones standing are yourself and Miranda. Rae's gone ahead and attracted a party of young men, talking jovially in a way you haven't seen since the start of the War. Dr. Wackett sits some way down the bar, carefully examining several drinks she's ordered. As she jots down some notes on her clipboard, your gaze slides over to Yetta. Looking very insecure, she stares at an unfamiliar drink as she tries to ignore the smaller group of interested men surrounding her and the Doctor. "Come on, Cleona. There's no reason to stand," Miranda says.[ ] Join Rae and her Rambunctious Men[ ] Sit with the Doctor and Yetta[ ] Find a spot for yourself and Miranda[ ] Go solo[ ] Other
>>20417618[x] Sit with the Doctor and YettaLet's get this started.
>Join Rae and her Rambunctious Men
[x] Sit with the Doctor and YettaYetta seems to be having trouble.
>>20417618[x] Sit with the Doctor and YettaDrag Miranda along too.
Nodding at Miranda, you take a seat on Yetta's right, "pushing" some of those interested fellows away. Unsure of what what to order, you get some "XXXX." The place is a bit lively, certainly helped by the entrance of five young women. Rae's talking up a storm in the corner, with a much more composed and reserved Miranda having her own conversations from a seat next to her. Taking a sip of your XXXX (a taste you don't much enjoy), you glance to your left. Right next to you, Yetta's still looking a bit uncomfortable, though she smiles when she notices you. Dr. Wackett is brushing off a young man, more concerned with finishing her notes. "Um, Cleo?" Yetta asks, "What...are we supposed to be doing?"[ ] What are you supposed to be doing?[ ] Other.
>>20418024[x] "Drinking, enjoying ourselves, and chatting up cute guys, like the one that's been trying to get your attention, Yetta."
>>20418024[x] Spending Rae's money and enjoying ourselvesYetta is adorable. Let's see if we can enjoy HER...
>>20418056>Sure, why not
>>20418056"Oh, you know," you say, "drinking, having a good time...chatting up cute guys like the one you've been shrinking away from since you sat down..." "W-what? Why would he want to chat with me?" You roll your eyes. "You're an attractive young woman, why do you think?" Yetta's cheeks grow a little redder at that statement. "But that's..." "Hey, you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, Yetta. Still, that doesn't mean you can't make some friends or have a good time. Kick back, relax, get to know some people. It's not every day we get a chance to meet people that aren't busy fighting a war." Yetta stares at her drink for a moment. "I guess you're right." Yetta turns back to where the young man had been, but finds him gone. A quick glance tells you he's moved on to Dr. Wackett. A little depressed, Yetta turns back to her drink. "...like you've work on some very important stuff, huh?" you hear him saying to the Doctor. "Why, yes! War-winning research, right here in Australia!" she answers eagerly. "Wow, something really important?" "Indeed. Important enough, it might just bring Australia to the forefront of world politics!" "All that and you're a Witch?" he says, overawed.
>>20418056>[x] "Drinking, enjoying ourselves, and chatting up cute guys, like the one that's been trying to get your attention, Yetta."Voting this one.
>>20418283 "Well, actually, no. I'm the non-Witch in the group, I'm afraid..." "Oh, that..." The conversation dies off pathetically from there as the young man awkwardly excuses himself, heading for the much more popular Rae. Sighing, Dr. Wackett returns to her clipboard, taking an occasional sip of several of the drinks. Seeing these two of your fellows down so early in the night is getting to you.[ ] Wingman time[ ] Try to dislodge some men from Rae[ ] Other
>>20418291[x] Wingman time. Let's get yetta laid.Also[x] Other, hit on doc.
>>20418291[x] Wingman timeLet's try to get these two cheered up.
>Implying I have the social experience to write this with authorityThis might be your birthday celebration, but you'll be damned if you'll let your companions suffer for it. "Excuse me," you say as you grab the shoulder of a man heading to the jovial group surrounding Rae and Yetta, "but do you have a moment?" "Oh, uh, sure," he responds, startled. You get up and walk a few feet away from Yetta and Dr. Wackett. "Might I ask your name?" "It's George, ma'am," he responds with formality, a little intimidated by you. "Well, George, I can't help but notice you're headed for the throng of people all trying to get a word in edge-wise to my friends." He nods. "You also seem like a stand-up guy," you say. A quick look-over tells you that isn't a complete lie. He nods again. "I might be a bit forward here, but is there any chance I could convince you to perhaps...talk with my other friend here? She's been feeling rather down for the past few weeks and could really use somebody to talk to, hang out with. I can't say it'll go where you might like, but..." You look back at Yetta, looking heart-wrenchingly pitiful as she stirs her drink in silence.
>>20418867 George follows your gaze and looks at Yetta, examining her. There's no denying that there's probably some less well-intentioned thoughts going through his head as he does so, but he at least is doing a good job of keeping that process from appearing on his face. "Hey, George, come on!" a fellow calls from much closer to Rae's crowd. George looks at his friend, then glances back at Yetta. "...Sorry, Bill. Maybe later," he answers. "I'll give it a go," he says to you. "Thanks. Don't try anything stupid, though; she has very caring friends," you warn him. "I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." His hand makes for an unconscious salute, getting halfway there before catching himself. "And if you might be able to convince your friend to talk with my doctor friend here, I'd appreciate it." George nods and takes your place at Yetta's side. Watching from afar, you see surprise come over Yetta's face, followed by an ever-so-slight smile. Making sure your quick conscript is being earnest, you give them a few minutes. Satisfied, you nod to yourself. The sharp sound of breaking glass interrupts you.[ ] What the hell was that?[ ] Ignore it[ ] Other.
>>20418878[x] What the hell was that?If not critical then[x] Hit on doc.
>>20418878>[ ] What the hell was that?>>20418926An interesting proposition
>>20418926I second this
>>20418878[x] What the hell was that?It's John being a drunk idiot, isn't it?Oh well. Maybe turning him into red paste will be a good way to work off stress, and breaking his arms and legs will be a good lesson for him.
>>20418926Tossing in for this one.
You turn to the source of the noise. On the ground by Rae's group, you spot the shattered remains of a glass strewn over the floor. The group has backed away from a man, startled. Miranda is shying away, but Rae seems to be angrily focused on him. It's John. "What the hell was that for?" "...damned witches...fucking war..." he mumbles, most of it lost under his breath. "I asked you what your problem was," Rae demands. "I've yer problm right here!" he yells with a slur, chucking another glass. "You know what I do to problems?" Rae responds as she calmly dodges the projectile. "I fix them." You start to make your way over, but Dr. Wackett tugs on your shirt. "It's best not to make a scene," she says. "The less attention the military brass pay to our night out, the better." It already looks like a scene to you, though.[ ] Rae's got this, return to what you were doing.[ ] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy.[ ] Join her[ ] Other
[X] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy.Eh, let's not get hauled back to the base.
>>20419178[x] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy.
>>20419178[x] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy.Keep a watch to make sure he doesn't try something until then, though.
>>20419178[x] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy.But keep an eye on John. As soon as he chucks a glass at us or Rae, we break him. He's a drain on the war effort and a traitor to the human race.
>>20419189He's right you know.
>>20419237>He's a drain on the war effort and a traitor to the human race.He's drunk. What do you expect?
You give the Doctor a nod. She's right; this night out might not go over too well, no matter what you say to justify it. It's best not to make it an issue. Glancing at the bartender, you notice he's already talking with some rather strong-looking fellows (How'd they skip out on the serving?). Acting quickly, you walk up behind Rae, putting a firm grip on her shoulder. "Don't make a mess of things, Rae. The management can take care of this guy." "Are you saying I can't handle this myself?" she asks accusingly. "No, you idiot. You're a Witch; you could thrash him into next Tuesday, probably. I'm saying don't do anything that could get us in trouble." You hope that's enough to get her to calm down. "...But-" Rae's response is cut short as John leaps at her. You have a split-second to react.[ ] Pull Rae out of the way[ ] Intercept[ ] Bat John away[ ] Other
>>20419315>on the servingOn the service, god dammit.
[ ] InterceptIf he's dead drunk, let's not just kill the fucker.
[ ] Bat John awayHARD
>>20419315[x] Sock 'imWe have a rep to keep, y'know.
[ ] Bat John awaySubwitches? more like boredwitches am I rite?
>>20419315[x] Pull Rae out of the wayGetting put in the stockade is not a good end to a birthday night.
>>20419315>[ ] InterceptProlly too late, but whatever
Alright, that's not OK. Reacting, you swiftly place yourself in front of Rae. His leap (if you can even call it that) commits him to a path straight to you...and your fist. "Idiot," you curse as you swing your right to his side. You don't put much into the blow, but it's enough to knock him to the side, moaning. He collapses against the side of the bar, clutching his side. Wary of his movements, you keep yourself between him and Rae. Then you see a glint of steel as his hand reaches out of his pocket.[ ] Wrestle it away[ ] Grab a chair[ ] Other
Stomp on his wrist.
>>20419424[x] Grab a chairBut don't hit him with it!Just use it to keep him away, like a lion tamer, until the nice burly men can take him away.
>>20419444I'm just going to agree with everything he says
>>20419492That's not very original.
>>20419444DO IT HARD. MAKE THE BONE SNAP
>>20419457Very much this.
>>20419424 Moving quickly, you bolt forward. Taking advantage of your height difference, you put your foot down on the offending hand's wrist. Hard. "Ahhrgh!" he yells in pain, dropping the object in his hand. Predictably, it's a knife. "That's serious stuff, there, John," you say. "Disliking the War is one thing; I'm pretty sure most of us here don't like it either. Threatening the War effort? That's another thing entirely." "Fucking Witches!" he curses. "'The War effort,' she says. What about the men, huh?" "What about them?" "You let 'em die by th' handful while you all sit nice 'n pretty!"[ ] Witches have died too, you know.[ ] You think their deaths don't affect us?[ ] Stay silent as you let the management take over.[ ] Other.
>>20419457WE ARE THE AUSSIE TAMER!
>>20419457This. Could be a locket or something, perfect fodder for MISUNDERSTANDINGS.
[ ] Stay silent as you let the management take over.Let the dumbass rant.
>>20419605>[ ] You think their deaths don't affect us?Or, damnit, alright. I'll agree with >>20419618
[ ] Witches have died too, you know.See SE? I don't agree with absolutely everything you post.
>>20419605[x] Witches have died too, you know.He's an idiot if he thinks Witches don't die.
>>20419605"Of course People die, you blithering idiot. It's a bloody war. Men and witches are dying all the time. Dou you seriously think it doesn't affect us when the men and women we fight alongside die?"
>>20419719 Only the Dead have seen the end of war
ooo! Subwitches! Yay!
>Vote faster god dammitYou don't have to say anything to this man. He's drunk, threatened Rae and yourself, and now he's about to get thrown out. All you do is increase the pressure on his wrist, eliciting a few more cries of pain before the big strong guys you saw pick him up and take him away. You sit back down at the bar, the mood thoroughly ruined. As quiet discussion nervously kicks back up, you stew in your thoughts. Sitting pretty? Such an accusation, even from someone like John, cuts deeply. You hate being privileged. All your life you've rejected the easy pleasure and positions, preferring to earn your way. He's full of complete bullshit with everything else, of course. Witches have had a few deaths already and have to deal with the fact that most people they serve with won't survive the War intact. It's hard for them. Hell, you four are the only survivors of an entire submarine crew. The fact that you're here, enjoying (or trying to) a night on the town is nothing short of a miracle.
>>20419802 But could he be right about abuse of position? Would a normal serviceman have been able to sneak out like this? Would they have been welcomed so readily in a bar they'd never been to in a town they'd never even heard of? Would- A glass slides your way, freeing you from your thoughts. "Here, on the house." The bartender gives you a solemn nod. "Thanks," you reply. Whatever it is, it's as unappetizing as your last drink. You drink some anyway.[ ] Call it quits.[ ] Fuck it; try to have a good time.[ ] Other.
[ ] Fuck it; try to have a good time.
Y'know, Fap Angel's stated reason for writing SWQ was making witches cry as they lose tons of big brother figures.Let's roll with that.Yetta (Or is it Rae?) has some pretty fucked up human torpedo time, let's roll with that too.[x] You think their deaths don't affect us? You think we aren't just as, if not more fucked in the head than most GIs? We lose our "Big Brothers" every other battle. Fuck you.
>>20419827Vote faster god dammit
>>20419802FUCK YOU KOTA YOU AUTISTIC FAGGOT
[x] Fuck it; try to have a good time.>My tripcode is showingWell fuck me.
>>20419809[x] Fuck it; try to have a good time.Magic is powered by alcohol. We must have more.
>>20419815 Once again, I agree with SE>hides in corner
>>20419809[x] Fuck it; try to have a good time.Let's at least try to not drag other people down with us.
>>20419835Wait longer goddamnit.
>>20419957>long enough for you? Fuck it. It's your birthday night out. Rae's footing the bill, your friends are here, and you'll be damned if you let it get ruined by something like this. You put on a more cheerful face and take a look around the room. Dr. Wackett and Yetta are where they were earlier, Yetta clinging a little more to that friendly George fellow you flagged down for her. Dr. Wackett seems intent on flipping through her clipboard's pages, but seems strangely half-hearted. Miranda is trying to calm down Rae, who is thoroughly pissed at the proceedings. You can catch a few of her complaints, consisting of various ways to say "My fucking fault, it was her birthday," and "I should have just tackled him." The crowds of men have spread out more evenly, no longer ganging up on Rae.[ ] Join Rae and Miranda[ ] Join Dr. Wackett and Yetta[ ] Go Solo[ ] Other
>>20419809Find some underage jailbait boys to molest.It's our birthday after all, may as well get ourselves a present.
>>20419973[x] Join Rae and MirandaThank Rae for the night out.
>>20419997then>>20419991But not in the creepy way. there should be some good end to this fustercluck
>>20419973>[ ] Join Dr. Wackett and YettaWhat the hell. let's spread these votes as much as we can.
[ ] Go SoloRead as [x] Find Hot GuyRead as [x] Find ShotaRead as[x] Get LaidRead as[x] Fapfiction
>>20420107All of my wants
>>20420107Yeah, why not?
>>20420107The people have spoken
>>20420107ThisI'll make you a deal, Kotters.You give me an erection, and I'll take care of it.
>>20420225>>20420190>>20420179>>20420178>>20420166>>20420136...kind of suspicious.
You pick up your glass and walk over to Rae and Miranda, not quite sure what to say. Miranda moves a seat over as you approach, insisting you sit between the two. "...Hey," you say to Rae. "Hey," she answers back. You're both silent, trying to think of something to say. Neither of you can find the words, however, and you both simply take another drink of your beer. As the bar's clientele slowly return to their normal level of liveliness and conversation, the two of you say nothing. Occasionally waving down the bartender for another drink, you and Rae simply keep taking an occasional sip as Miranda watches, worried. Finally, you turn to Rae at the same time she turns to you. You both chuckle a little bit, trying to stifle your laughs before they burst out into whole-hearted belly laughs lost in the rumbling background conversations of others. At a loss, Miranda's eyes widen and brow furrows. The two of you slowly stop, smiles on your faces. "Happy Birthday, Cleona. "Thanks, Rae." You clink glasses and chug the rest of your beer.NEXT TIME ON SUBWITCHES: NEW TIMEDue to classes, I'll be moving SuWQ to Wednesday at 7 CST, 8 EST. That's it for this week, however. See you next time.
>>20420254You ignored us, didn't you?We wanted good ending, with sexytime.
Something was cold. He couldn’t tell what it was, but there was a coldness there that hadn’t been before.Chrichton stirred. The cold came back, washing over him and making him shiver. Everything was so dark…“Where…” he managed to whimper.The cold returned, sweeping across him from head to toe…then toe to head. He whimpered again. “Mom…”“She’s not here…you’re all right,” a quiet voice said. Chrichton went still.“Who…”“Hush, American,” another voice said in broken English. The accent…French?Chrichton switched languages. “Please…sir, where am I?” Chrichton asked, with serious effort.The voices paused. “You’re in the hospital. Your eyes are healing,” the second voice said. “Can you feel your legs?”Chrichton’s heart pounded. Had he been hit in the legs? He couldn’t remember. “I…” he twitched his knees, trying to move. The motion sent a spiral of agony through him. He groaned and stopped moving. “They…hurt a lot…”“Better than not having them,” the first voice said.Chrichton tried to move his arms and got a similar result. “Why can’t I see?” he asked them through his teeth.“Your eyes are bandaged, Wallace,” a third voice said. This one was familiar, at least.“Luisa?” Chrichton asked.“I’m here.” A warm hand slid up his neck and rested there. He wanted to catch it and hold it. It felt like a lifeline. “Please rest. You’re lucky Letty was there on the ship, or you’d be blinded.”“I hurt…” he whispered.“I know. Shrapnel in the neck…we got to it in time. You’ll walk again.”
He felt a shiver of relief. “Thank God,” Chrichton whispered hoarsely. He shivered again as the cold returned. “Why…am I so cold…?”“Oh…should I turn off the fan?” Luisa’s voice asked.“Please.” The cold switched off. Her hand on his head shifted a little, then another warm hand appeared on the other side.“Better?”“Much,” he said softly.“Good. I’ll let you rest,” she said, starting to leave.“No!” he gasped, grabbing her hand with sudden, manic strength.“Wally, calm down,” she said. Her voice was nearly as rough as his, but he didn’t even slow down.“Please…don’t leave…” he managed, his voice trailing off under waves of fresh pain from his abused body. “Not yet.”She hesitated, then slowly brought her hands back to him, resting them on his temples. She brushed a bit of his hair aside and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m just going to sit down on the other side of the room. Believe me. I’m here,” she whispered.He relaxed back onto the bed. “All right…thank you…” he replied, his voice sounding as tremulous as he felt.Her lips lingered on his forehead a moment longer, before the warmth vanished. A faint sound of footfalls followed them, then Chrichton fell back into a dreamless sleep.
He awoke again as something moved on his pillow. Animal instincts flared up and he struggled.“Easy, Captain, easy,” a voice said. Chrichton shakily grinned.“Duberstein?”“In the flesh. How’s the neck?”“Good as new, I think,” Chrichton said. A rough piece of leather brushed his neck. “That doesn’t hurt.”“Awesome. Letty says you’ll be fine soon. You thirsty?”“Parched,” Chrichton said. Duberstein’s gloved hand slid behind his neck as he gingerly leaned forwards. Someone brought a glass to his lips and he drank deeply.“Easy, you’ll choke,” Duberstein said.“Who else is there?” Chrichton asked, smacking his lips.“Garms is asleep in the next bed. I’m here, Beyside’s in the john. Fisher’s outside having a smoke. Meeker’s in the next room, but he’ll be okay with a rest.” Duberstein paused. “Uh…Muller’s all right, I think, he’s in another ward. Kerlin’s in the hall flirting with a nurse, the lazy horndog. I think that’s it for the flight-capable.”Chrichton nearly gagged. “Jesus Christ almighty, seven pilots out of eighteen?”“Seventeen. And…yeah. Smith, Kelman, and Heidmack all got shot down. Smith’s alive, but…he ain’t flying again. His legs are basically gone,” Duberstein said slowly. “Vinnard’s in a coma. Might not wake up. Nobody knows what the hell happened to Eastmond, he’s MIA.”“I didn’t…see him get hit,” Chrichton said past a rising lump in his throat.“Nobody did.” Duberstein patted his back. “Look…you rest some, okay?”Chrichton sank back into the bed, reeling. “Where’s Luisa?”“I’m still here, Wallace,” her voice said. Her familiar warmth appeared on his shoulder as she rested a hand on him. “How much does your head hurt?”
>>20420250I can confirm at least one of those was not samefagging.
>>20420272Already started writing.Also, my quest isn't that popular.
“It…it’s bad,” he admitted. The shock of losing his squadron wasn’t helping. Another hand arrived on his forehead, and a funny tingle of energy trickled down his spine. “What’s happening?”“Relax, Wally, just giving you some medicine,” Letty’s voice said.“Oh…good. I didn’t…” Chrichton trailed off as something horrible welled up inside him. Ten casualties. Out of seventeen. The Paladins had been cut down, and he had just treaded water while it had happened.“Hey, his bandages need replacing,” Letty said, running a finger over the seam.He gently reached up and pressed his hand to hers. “Wait.”“Wally, you need a new dressing,” Letty said.The tears welling up in his eyes were starting to flow. “Wait.”Duberstein coughed. “I’ll, uh…go find somewhere else to be, sir,” he said. He made his escape as Luisa’s hand brushed Letty’s aside.“Wait a moment, Lieutenant,” she said. Letty huffed in impatience.Chrichton clamped a hand over his mouth as the tears turned into a racking cough. Luisa’s hand squeezed his shoulder, hard. “I’m sorry, Wallace,” she said quietly. “We couldn’t…I’m sorry.” Chrichton’s chest heaved silently, tears soaking the bandage. From the sound of her breathing, Luisa was tearing up too.Letty sighed, walking over to the next bed. A static tingle filled the air as she went to work on Garms.Luisa’s warm hand shook a bit on his shoulder. Then another one landed, then her head, as she leaned on him and silently joined in his tears. Chrichton made a strangled sound of pure loss. “I’m so sorry,” Luisa whispered again. “Please forgive us.”
As he regained a semblance of control, he found no room in himself for company, and dismissed the squad. Garms, his only roommate now, spoke up after the others, and Witches, were gone. “Glad you’re okay too, sir.”“What happened to you?” Chrichton asked coldly.“Canopy broke, tore up my shoulder. Nearly crashed from blood loss. Some Paladin…the Vatican ones. They saved me.” Garms shifted. “I already had mine.”“Your what?”“My…well. You know, I…Vinnard is…like a brother to me,” Garms sighed.Chrichton was quiet. “What day is it?” he finally asked.“It’s about noon, three days after the Marina blasted the last three Leviathans.” Garms shifted in his bed. “Rome’s safe. We lost a lot…but we won, sir. The Martians didn’t get a single survivor.”“Fantastic,” Crichton whispered bitterly. “More dead people.”“No, I mean the Martians didn’t survive, sir,” Garms corrected himself.“I know.”Garms was quiet for a long time after that. “Uh…Girotti left a note on your bedside table if you want me to read it to you,” he said.
>>20420305Same here.>Hides again
Chrichton sighed. “Sure.”Garms lifted the note and started reading. Before he spoke, however, he suddenly caught himself. “Oh…uh. I think…I think you’ll want to read it yourself, sir,” he said, dropping it back into place. “When you can…” he trailed off again.Chrichton huffed impatiently. “When can we leave?”“Hmm. Well, Muller will be up and about in a few hours. I’ll be set to go in a week. You and Meeker should be alright in…say six days? So a week.”“A week with no eyes? Fucking great,” Chrichton said.“Man at least you’ll be able to fly again. How the fuck you think Smith feels?” Garms asked testily.“I don’t even know what happened to him.”“He got strafed!” Garms grimaced. “Son of a bitch managed to land his plane intact outside of Rome, but one of the needles followed him and strafed the field. Got his legs shot out from under him, literally.”“They got that far inland?” Chrichton asked.“Apparently. The Paladins, the Pope ones, they spooked off the rest of the escorts, but the AA over Rome was thick as a forest, they didn’t even get a chance to fire at the city.” Garms shifted in his bed, groaning. “You ever fracture a rib before?”“No.”“Don’t try it. Letty said I’m lucky I didn’t shred my lungs with my own bones,” he said. He sighed. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, they say everyone who gets put up for the Silver Star feels like they don’t deserve it.”“Wait, what?” Chrichton asked.“The squad.” Garms turned to look at him, not that Chrichton could see. “Nobody told you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chrichton asked.“The whole squad got put up for a Silver Star for taking out two Leviathans.”“That was us? I thought the Witches got them,” Chrichton said.Garms shook his head. “No, Captain, that was you, me, Duberstein, Kerlin, and Muller.”“Kerlin and Muller got the second one?”“Yep. Well, and Vinnard, but he got hit pulling up.” Garms sighed again. “Dumb son of a bitch pulled up too fast, got clipped by a maser.”Chrichton grunted. “So…does that make me the highest ranked pilot left in the squad?”“Smith. He just can’t fly.”Silence met that grim statement. “Shit…” Chrichton said at last.“Yeah.” Garms rolled onto his uninjured side and closed his eyes. “It’s local ten PM. Get some rest.”
Kota you faggot.
(x) Touch fluffy wog
That's a wrap. See you all next week.