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Mounting Debt

Chapter 4: Under the Blue Suns

For bbbuuu

By Draconicon

Two days. It had been two days since the incident in Afterlife, and Azen already both loved and hated his new life.

The Salarian groaned as he was finally able to pull back from another Salarian's cock, the bitter taste of his own species lingering on his tongue as he sat back on his ass. His 'client', for lack of a better term, smirked down at him before pulling his armor back on and walking out of the room. Azen shook his head as the mercenary left him alone, wiping his mouth clean and wishing that he had at least some scrap of cloth to clean off the other messes on his face.

Unfortunately, clothes were one of the many things he was no longer allowed. Ever since the Boss had taken him back as a toy - and probably as a way of eliminating a witness - he'd lost the rights to many basic sentient amenities. Clothes, books, the extranet: all of these things were taken away, and what he got in return were...well, cocks. Lots and lots of cocks.

When another customer didn't come in right away, he realized that he'd gotten through the line of people waiting for his 'services.' The Salarian took a deep breath, glad for some bit of relief, even if his hole itched for a few more customers.

Nothing but drugs, he told himself, remembering a few of the injections that the Blue Suns had used to 'nudge' him into servitude. It still burned in his backside, and he could pinpoint right where the needle had gone in, if he needed to. He tried not to; it made him want it all the more.

Wishing there was a more dignified way to spend his day, Azen laid himself out on some of the pillows in the room. It wasn't much, just a corner of a converted warehouse, but at least it gave the illusion of some privacy. There was no bed, only pillows and cushions for people to throw him on before they fucked him, or position him so that he could fit into all sorts of different positions for different species. There were times when he wondered if they even knew the limits of the Salarian body; he was pretty sure that he'd reached them several times, by now.

But that didn't matter. He laid back, naked body more exposed than he generally let even the better paying clients see. His legs couldn't help but spread due to the soreness down below, and his cock refused to slide back in to where it would hide. Again, due to the drugs that they'd given him that hadn't quite left his system yet.

No matter what, though, he was still a Salarian, and still very, very good at dealing with bodily distractions when he was thinking. Azen closed his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths as he went over his situation.

Captured by Blue Suns, kept as company toy. Not much can be done. Definitely experienced in different cocks, now. He chuckled. No, not funny. Not funny, when they make me want it.

Escape options, not that many. Could try and re-wire some circuitry, but never my strong point. Could try and make it out the window. But likely to be shot. Not good, particularly with Vorcha wanting a new hole.

That sent a shiver down his spine. He was pretty sure that there wasn't a drug in the universe that would make that fun for him, and he didn't want to see the Blue Suns make it happen, either.

Two clients, maybe, know I'm gone. No more than that. Gavorn, maybe. Aria, unlikely. Doesn't care. Just a stripper. Need to focus on other possibilities.

There was one person he might be able to get in touch with. Oscar was a human that wasn't attached to any of the mercenary bands over Omega at the moment, and he was pretty sure that the human wasn't too involved with any big schemes or troublemaking ideas. More than that, he was connected to a lot of people in the underbelly of Omega, looking for work at all times. Some of it legal, most of it not.

If there was anyone that he could get a message to, it'd be Oscar. It'd take a while to get to his friend, maybe too long, but it was the best shot he had. But how?

Well, that was the problem that his Salarian brain would have to solve. He took another deep breath -

Whoosh.

And then the door sliding open interrupted him. He opened his eyes, looking at Geeroy stepping into the room. The Batarian grinned, already undoing the crotch-plate of his armor.

"Alright, whore. Been a long time waiting for this."

"Yes. I know."

Sighing, Azen pulled himself up and got down on all fours. He didn't bother reaching for lube, or a condom, or anything of the sort. When one became a whore for mercenaries, such niceties were taken away as much as clothing or the extranet was. And he doubted that Geeroy would be nice enough to use any of those options, even if they were available.

Jerk, he thought as the Batarian got behind him, bulbous cock already nudging and rubbing between his ass cheeks. There was all the eagerness that he always felt from the alien, all the rushed arousal. It had been there during every single engagement at Afterlife, always pushing the boundaries, always trying to get in his ass for free, and back then, he'd had the power to show the mercenary the door if he pushed too hard. Here?

"Nnngh!"

Azen groaned as the tip of Geeroy's cock pushed past his rim, rubbing against his prostate and slowly working in deeper. It was unpleasant and vaguely pleasurable at the same time, and it wasn't just the drug this time. The Salarian was slowly realizing that his body and his mind were psychologically accommodating the abuse that he was going through, taking it in and making him like it in order to preserve him. Even though he was aware of the process, he was barely able to slow it down, and certainly not able to stop it.

He grunted as his latest partner grabbed him by the horns, pulling them back like handlebars as he was fucked hard. The only lube he had were the loads that he'd taken earlier in the day, and that was barely enough for a bigger cock like what Geeroy had. If it hadn't been for the stretching he'd been going through, as well -

Don't think about that. Thinking about it makes it worse.

Suffice to say, his ass had been opened quite a bit during his stay, and he no longer stayed closed between sessions. Anything that was left behind tended to dribble out sooner than later, and he'd gotten a close look at too many different species' cum of late.

Geeroy, however, was another matter. The Batarian was as rough as he had always worried that he'd be, and the pounding that his ass plates were getting was beyond anything that he got short of the Boss. He groaned as he was pulled back, his neck aching from the pressure on the back of his head, and his hole burned at the hot, hard penetration.

"Heh, you like that, huh, bitch? You've been wanting my cock all this time, haven't you? Just been being coy."

He didn't say anything, knowing better than to engage. Defiance would be punished, agreement would feed the psychological breaking process. Better to keep quiet and let the Batarian believe what he wanted.

The fuck went on, hard armor pressing against his ass, balls pressing against his, and the hard thrusts making him rock back and forth. His cock ground against the pillows beneath him, feeding him an unwanted pleasure from the experience. Azen groaned, oozing pre with each slam into him, each grind over his prostate and his inner walls, and the squelching sounds of old cum getting forced out didn't disgust him as they used to. Instead, they made him more aroused.

He gritted his teeth as the Batarian held him tighter, his horns feeling like they were going to be twisted right off at this rate. If he'd been a Krogan, he'd be growling; if he was a human, he would have been swearing; if he was a Vorcha, he would have been hissing. But he was still a Salarian - Whore - so he thought, instead, throwing himself into the depths of his experiments and theories.

If the Batarian lasts on average for five minutes by blowjob, then he should last no more than three within a normal rectum. Taking the size and tightness of one's rectum into consideration, however, one might add in the variable that his eagerness will take him further than his normal stamina's limits. A Batarian dealing with a ruined hole such as my own -

A grunt was pushed past his lips as Geeroy smacked his ass, and he resisted the urge to glare back. The last time he did that, the mercenary buried in his ass had thought that he needed to be taught a lesson, and he didn't want to be taken from this little room to the dungeon that they'd put together. It wasn't something he could take a second time.

Instead, he clenched down on the Batarian's cock, trying to hurry him up. It worked, in some ways. Geeroy groaned over him, thrusting harder and faster against his clenching ass. Azen took it for almost a minute before his partner came, filling him again with more seed. It was just as plentiful as it always was over his face, maybe slightly more so.

Geeroy pulled out, and Azen was about to lie down again when two thick fingers punched past his rim. He groaned, hissing despite himself as those fingers found his prostate and started rubbing it directly.

"What...what are you...nnngh...doing?"

"Heh, I think that the whore deserves to cum, too."

"I'm fine!"

"Nah, I think you should cum."

Azen held on as long as he could, but the feeling of those fingers rubbing against his prostate, deliberately pushing him to cum as soon as he could, were too much to resist. His cheeks burned as he splattered his seed over the pillow beneath him, shooting his cum like some eager little slut.

The world closed around him for a moment, and then went back to normal. He shivered as he realized how close he'd come to shutting down there, how easy it would have been to give in to the pleasure and the drugs if he let himself. It was so much easier not to think when things were hopeless, but that way lay danger. That way lay the end of being a Salarian.

He kept that pose until Geeroy pulled his fingers free and walked out, and even then, Azen took his time to roll to the side and avoid the soaked pillow. He kicked it out of the way, shaking his head as he laid back and stared up at the ceiling.

I have to get out of here. I have to.

Thankfully, Geeroy was the last 'customer' of the night, and none of the other mercenaries stopped by as the lights started dimming. That always happened when it was getting close to what passed for night time on Omega, giving the soldiers a chance to keep to an approximation of a solar schedule. It also was the only time when he had a bit of freedom to wander around without getting slammed into a wall and fucked out in public. Bad enough getting screwed in his 'private' chamber; getting fucked up the ass while his face was ground against a rusty metal wall was hardly his idea of a good time.

He waited for another ten minutes or so, giving the Blue Suns some time to get to their bunks, before finally getting to his feet again. The Salarian's legs shook as he tried to walk, and he was not feeling very good by the time he reached the door. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he pressed his hand to the plate beside it, and it opened.

"Timer started."

That was the other reason that he only left the room at night. He was allowed limited time free of the fuck chamber, and if he overstepped that, then the Boss would come down, find him due to the tracking chip that they'd implanted on his first day, and then rut him right into the ground. Azen shuddered, his cock - never having gone soft - dripping slightly at the idea. His body loved what the Boss did to him, but his mind was afraid. Very afraid. Not just of how his body felt when the Boss fucked him, but what the Boss said to him.

There was a sense of command to the Boss, the Turian that led this particular set of the Blue Suns, that he'd never seen in another person. No matter what was demanded, no matter how the command was phrased, it was nearly impossible to deny him. Even though Azen was used to following orders - one had to get used to that, as a stripper - he was astounded at the level of loyalty that the Boss had over his soldiers, and more than a bit scared about how much he wanted to follow those orders as well.

The commands to submit had been the only ones that he'd been able to resist, so far, and he could feel that it was a battle he'd eventually lose. There was no holding out forever against that, particularly now that he was flooded with some sort of aphrodisiac and sensitizer on a daily basis. If the Boss had him too many times...he would become what they called him.

Dealing with a perpetual shiver running up and down his spine, Azen walked down the makeshift hallway. The warehouse had been converted from an open space to a base by putting up different pieces of sheet metal and forcefields to make different rooms. He knew that the biggest was the bunk room for the grunts and officers, with the second biggest one being the cafeteria. They were on the far side of the warehouse, nearest the doors that led out of the place. The other main rooms - the armory, comms, briefing, and supply - were in the center, with minimal armament kept in the foot lockers in the barracks. His room was a bit back center, a little further in than the main rooms, and past him...

Well, that was where the Boss lived.

He looked up at the raised quarters that loomed over everything else, and knew that even if the cameras stopped working, the Boss could still track anyone in the warehouse with his vantage point. All it would take was one sniper bullet from up there, and any rowdy merc or escaping slave would be taken down in short order.

Even now, he could see the Boss pacing around something up there, and had a feeling that he'd be called up to 'attend' to the Turian before long. There was usually a point where he had to deal with the Boss, verbally, if nothing else.

Better use my time while I can.

He walked down the empty hallways, pausing and hiding when he heard some of the Blue Suns moving around, only to keep walking as soon as it was clear. He walked past the armory and the briefing room, and stopped at the door to the comms room.

Every time that he'd come here before, he'd seen someone else working the computer terminals inside and dealing with all the chatter from the other Blue Suns patrolling Omega and looking for contracts, or those that were fulfilling them. The techs inside were busy at all times of the day, giving no openings...save for one.

It had taken two days to figure it out, but there was always a bathroom break that came up just as the lights were going down, when people were going to sleep, and before the Boss started getting antsy. It was short, it was almost too brief to do anything with, unless you happened to be there right when it started.

And this time, he was.

Azen slipped through the open door as soon as the Turian stepped out, managing to duck under his arm just enough to avoid being seen. The door closed behind him, and he moved over to the computer. Not daring to sit down in case he left a cum stain, he opened up the communication channels.

Aria is blocked, no surprise, he thought as he scanned the possibilities. He hadn't expected to get through to her directly, but it was worth checking. Gavorn was likewise blocked, as well as anyone that frequented Afterlife in general. That meant he couldn't get a direct message to Oscar, but that didn't mean a message was impossible. He flicked downwards, rapidly scanning those that were in the system until -

Heh, knew there'd be someone.

He remembered Oscar mentioning a bunch of Quarians that he'd gotten in trouble with a while back. According to the Blue Suns database, they hadn't left Omega yet, and he was reasonably sure that he could get them to deliver some sort of message. Not much of one, but something. Azen's fingers danced over the keys, tapping out a quick message.

Azen stuck in Blue Sun warehouse, sex prisoner. Witness. Get out.

Send.

The message flickered across the screen, the Salarian hoping that it would be enough context. There was no time for more, and he doubted that the Boss would let him get this close to comms again. He turned -

And the Turian walked through the doorway just as he stepped away from the computer. Azen put on as innocent a look as he could, leaning back against one of the chairs. The Turian looked from him to the computer and back again, and slowly shook his head.

"Thinking of your old life, Salarian? That's long gone, and you should know that by now."

"Not so long gone. Lots of people out there remember me."

"Heh, they remember the intellectual, I'm sure. They wouldn't recognize the Whore."

A shiver ran down his spine at that, the Turian's calm voice always pushing past his defenses. Every other customer had called him that at some point, but he had always let it roll off of his back and go somewhere else. He wasn't a whore, he was a Salarian running an experiment, and it worked with everyone else...

But with him...

The black and red Turian walked over to him, armor clinking softly as he did. One large hand settled on his shoulder, pulling him close with a quick lurch, and Azen almost slammed into the mercenary's chest before he got his feet under him again.

"I don't appreciate your little rebellions, Whore. They don't do anything to increase your attractiveness, or your price. Now, do we need to visit the medic again?"

A chill went through him as he remembered the rough Batarian, those hands holding him down and the injections that had filled him the first time. He remembered the medical restraints, the rough fondling he'd gotten, the forced erections and the stretching out back in his rear. Everything done to make him into a better whore, more eager for the cocks that he'd get and more willing to do things for free for the mercenary band. It went through his mind with a vividness that a Drell would have envied, and he shook his head.

"We don't have to do that."

"Good."

There was no command to follow, but there didn't need to be. The Turian's stance and smile told him everything that he needed to know. He fell into step behind the Blue Suns commander, following him back through the hall of metal to the stairs at the very back of the base. Up they went, the Salarian taking them quickly to avoid the varren down beneath the steps, and soon, they were in the command room.

The Boss kept a bed up here, and he had become intimately acquainted with it on the first night. All the stains were still there, and most of them had come from him as he'd been fucked and milked of his resistance, pushed to cum again and again under the Boss's forceful thrusts. His cock throbbed and his hole burned with the memories of it, twitching and puckering respectively as they passed by it.

There was only one chair, and the Turian took it, leaving Azen the choice of standing or kneeling. He knew which was expected of him, and fell to the floor without a word.

"So. What did you send?"

"Send?"

Like lightning, the Turian's fist grabbed his horn and twisted his head back. Azen hissed, barely holding back a shriek as he felt the ache from earlier return tenfold. One more millimeter of pushing, and something would crack up there. Maybe his horn from his head, maybe the structure within it, but something wouldn't hold for much longer. The Boss leaned in, his mandibles clicking softly as he chuckled.

"I told you before. Rebellion is hardly attractive. So, let's try that again, Whore. What did you send?"

"Nngh! I sent a message!"

"That's better, Whore."

Whore, whore, whore. The word kept echoing back in his head, and the Salarian had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't his name. Every repetition made his mind shake, his thoughts scattering as his head filled with images of the Turian's cock and the fact that he was so often on his knees, sucking it for the bigger male. He shuddered, trying to force them down again, and he barely succeeded.

The grip on his horn relaxed, but only slightly. It was no longer on the verge of breaking, just worryingly close to it. The Boss smiled down at him, his voice soft and almost vibrating as he whispered.

"You need to remember where you belong, Whore. You gave up your rights as a person the day that you let me pay for your body. There is nothing left to you that would be recognized as a person. The only thing you have is your mind, and it is breaking. Piece by piece, I am claiming the parts of you that I want, and eventually, all of you will belong to me. Do you understand, Whore?"

"Mmmph..."

He shook his head as little as he was allowed, and gasped as he was pulled forward, ground against the Turian's crotch plate. The armor was hard enough to bruise his cheek, and Azen growled under his breath.

"I said, do you understand me, Whore? Or do I need to brand that name of yours into your skin so you can remember it?"

Brand... The idea of something fiery pressed to his flesh, the idea of carrying the epithet that was so nearly already his name sent him into a panic. Azen fought, struggling to pull back, and he managed to free his horn. He scooted back desperately, his legs kicking and squirming as he did everything he could to pull away from the Turian mercenary. The big man stood up, following him, and Azen whimpered as he couldn't even get to his feet.

"What's the matter, Whore? Too afraid to face the truth? Too afraid to admit that you've already given up everything that matters?"

The world was closing in around him, Azen shivering as he struggled to pull himself along. His arms and legs shook, almost dropping him flat on his belly more than once, and he could hardly see the stairs out at the far end of the room. He struggled to pull himself along, feeling that flaring heat between his legs, under his ass cheeks start to burn again.

Not now...please...not now...not with him!

The Turian's boot came down on his back, shoving him into the ground. There was no saving himself, his air getting knocked out of his lungs before he could get away. He shivered, trying to get out from under that steel sole, but there was no getting free of that. The Turian's boot ground against the base of his spine, nudging him into place, pushing him under his heel.

"You belong down there, Whore. There's no getting away from that fact. You thought that this was just temporary, I know. You believed that this would be what you did until you were able to be respectable.

"There is no coming back from this. The moment you sell your body, you have given up everything. There is no getting out of this business. There is only getting deeper. Whore, I think it's time that you serve your purpose again."

Whore, whore, whore.

The word was getting louder in his head, drowning out all the thoughts that he marshalled to distract himself from it. It was like fighting a Krogan in a fistfight, when he didn't even have his arms freed. It was completely unfair, completely unwinnable.

He was panting, hardly able to breathe, let alone move, as he was pulled up to all fours again. A finger, rough and armored, forced itself into his ass, spreading him open before he could protest. His eyes were glazed over as it started pumping in and out, his hole clenching and opening, clenching and opening, each time a little weaker than the last as the Boss loomed over him, rubbing his other hand down the Salarian's back.

"It's your time, Whore. Give in. You're not going to live if you can't accept your place."

The firmness was not helping, nor was the fact that the name was burning itself into his brain. It was so hard to even think of himself as Azen when the Boss was talking. No matter how many times he repeated his own name to himself, when the Boss said 'Whore,' that was all that existed. Azen didn't live. Whore did.

No, no, that's wrong. I'm me. I'm Azen. I'm not a whore. I'm not Whore. I'm me.

It didn't stop him from pushing back, the drugs in his system making him want that finger even though his mind didn't want anything of the sort. He whimpered and gasped as it worked him over, slowly pushing him down so that his head rested on the ground and his ass went higher and higher in the air.

"You're submitting in body. I think you still fight me in your mind, though. That's fine. A little Salarian resistance will be broken in the end. There is no fighting it. You've always been one to rely on your body rather than your mind. It's just time to make it official."

He tried to shake his head, but all he could do was moan as that finger slipped free. Even though it was only metal, only armor that had been in his hole, everything ached for that little bit more, that little bit extra that would come from a cock that was thrust inside. Azen shivered as his body moved of its own accord, shaking his ass back and forth for the mercenary.

The clank of a crotch plate hitting the floor told him that the invitation had been accepted, and the cock that slipped between his ass cheeks, grinding against him and nudging him to accept a little more, was hot and hard. He shivered, his eyes going blank, his mind almost doing the same as the tip rubbed against his hole. The pointed end was so nearly inside of him, and he wanted it. His body wanted it, his brain needed it.

No...I'm Azen...not...not whore...

The thoughts were weakening, and he needed something. Anything. He threw his mind around for something to latch onto, and eventually picked the Turian's cock as it slipped inside of him.

Long. Very long. Abnormally so. Matches up with the modifications to the armor, means that he is atypical for Turians. Good. Turian females shouldn't have to deal with this size. Nor Salarian males.

His mind was off with a rush, running down familiar research tracks and data storage. He would have cried in relief if it wouldn't have given him away. The idea of studying the cock that was fucking him, breaking his body would have made him sick before, but now, it was the only thing that was holding him back from dropping into full whore-dom.

Bigger than usual, swelling more at the base almost like a canine, but with the flexibility at the tip of an avian from the planet earth. Quite remarkable. Possibly atypical as well. Genetic manipulation for better stimulation?

The more he thought, the less he burned, but Azen was smart enough to keep up the pretense. He rolled his hips back against the Turian's thrusts, holding his mind in the study zone and letting his body get slammed and filled, used and filled, broken and filled. His cock throbbed beneath him, dripping onto the floor in a way that he would have to clean up later, but it was so much better than the alternative. He would take humiliation over breaking any day.

He lost himself in the study, coming to the conclusion that the Turian had undergone various body mods down on his groin. There were too many inconsistencies with normal Turian genitalia for him to overlook in addition to the difference in size, and there had never been a Turian that he had heard of that could break his victims through sex in this way. That might have been an oversight of history, admittedly, but it was something that he had to believe. If it was true, then he was still safe. If he was able to prove his theory, then the Turian behind him was nothing but a cheater in the biological race.

It was such a distraction that he actually went still long before the Boss came, and only came back to the world when he was being pulled free and had his head shoved to the floor. The Blue Suns commander shook his head with a sigh.

"And you were starting so well. It seems that there is still something left in you that resists. A pity. I was hoping to put you on sale in the next week or so."

Azen's eyes widened, hardly believing that he had managed to save himself from a fate worse than death by complete accident. If he had been too good, he would have been turned into that much more product. Resistance, low level resistance, kept him here. He had to keep trying. He couldn't let himself fall.

The Boss called for some of his mercs, and they came to the command room in short order. Azen looked over his shoulder at them, half-expecting to be taken right there and then for the boss's amusement, but instead, he heard words that he hoped never to hear again.

"Take him to the Medic. He needs more of his medication."

"Please..."

Azen whimpered, shaking his head.

"Please...not that..."

"You are resisting. Resistance, I'm afraid, is unacceptable. Take him."

"No...No!"

He threw himself against the arms that pulled him back, but he was too weak. He was unable to break free.

#

Halfway across Omega, Oscar was sitting in the temporary rooms that had been erected outside of the ruined Afterlife. The stock had been saved to an extent, and Aria was no fool. The Asari continued to sell her booze to the people that wanted it, as well as her drugs and who knew what else had been in the back of the club. He leaned against the sheet metal counter, taking another shot from the human behind the counter.

He was about to throw it back when someone tugged on his arm, and he turned to see who was bothering him. Seeing the helmet of a Quarian, he was momentarily confused before he remembered the blackmailing sons of bitches that had come around before. He groaned, turning around again.

"If you're gonna try begging for more credits, good luck. I'm not in a giving mood."

"That is not what we're here for. We have a message from a friend of yours."

"Yeah? Pretty sure you don't know most of them. Who?"

"A Salarian. Named Azen?"

"Azen?"

Oscar slowly turned back around. The stripper had been missing ever since the fight went down. All the other employees had been of the opinion that Azen had died in the fire, or in the firefight before it. He'd actually gone out and lit a fucking candle for the poor guy, and he was still living.

"He owes me twenty credits...What's the message?"

As soon as he heard it, Oscar slammed back his shot and walked towards the back of the temporary rooms, and then out the back door. Some of the security mooks stopped him, but he growled one sentence.

"Get me Gavorn."

One short talk later, and the pair of them were brought back to Aria herself. The Asari commander of all of Omega leaned back on her couch, one of the few things that were salvaged intact from the front of the club, and looked up at them imperiously.

"So...you say that there's an employee of mine that lived through the attack, and saw what happened firsthand?"

"Yeah. And he's stuck. I need some help to get him out."

Gavorn nodded at his side, as he'd expected the Turian to do. The pair of them hadn't talked much since their last rendezvous, something that he'd need to get over eventually, but this wasn't the time. He tossed the message chip that the Quarians had given him onto the table between them.

"He says that he's captive. And that he was a witness."

Aria looked at the message, playing it out for a moment or two before nodding.

"Get him."

"Great. Who do I get?"

The Asari looked to the side, glancing at Gavorn. Oscar had a pretty good feeling that he'd be getting her personal hunter, but when she didn't say anything else, he realized that was all he was getting. He opened his mouth, but she turned to look at him again before he could say anything.

"I'm rebuilding everything right now, human. If the Blood Pack or anyone else gets wind of the fact that I'm weak right now, I'm going to need every hand for a gun. You get Gavorn, you get that Salarian out, and then we'll deal with the threat out there."

"...Yes, ma'am."

"Get out of here."

She gestured, and they left. There was no need for biotics for that. As soon as the door shut behind them, he turned to the sniper at his left.

"So...what do you think we'll need for this?"

"Lots and lots of guns. And explosives."

"Heh, I like the way you think."

The End