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"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter."

• Ernest Hemingway

Dev & Gru

By SniperSpartan-977

The view of the industrial district was in complete black and white. The thermal view completely nulled any and all shadows. Insulated rooves of the warehouses and factories were cold-black, windows and doorways showing up white-hot. One tall chimney was a blot of black, white smoke billowing from the top, obscuring a sizeable section of the three-quarter view from the predator drone.

Movement was immediately highlighted, small ant-like white-hot bodies moving through the dirt roads winding between the industrial buildings. They were circled with bright red squares as the intelligent friend-or-foe tracker noted a distinct lack of specific infra-red beacons. The system immediately flagged the ground-level infantry as hostile and highlighted them for observers.

Vehicles worked the same in that regard. A helicopter sitting idle on the rooftop of a low office building was a light greyish blot, the engine block glowing white and the rotors a barely visible blur. The FoF system flagged the vehicle by the recognisable engine heat signature, noted a distinct lack of IR-beacons, then popped a red square on it.

When the FoF scan of the estate was done, a terse female voice blared on the closed comms.

"Area is hot. Reading three technicals, one hind and at least two dozen foot-mobiles in the AO."

After a short pause, allowing the predator's view to shift left and right to the north and southern edges of the industrial estate - ensuring there were no stragglers being missed on the perimeter - a woman's voice answered in a soft whisper. "Copy that, Angel. We are still oscar-mike to the insertion point. Gotta do the sneaky stuff before you do cool-guy shit. Forty seconds."

High above the area of operations, unseen in the night sky the night camo clad predator UAV rolled left slightly. Tightening its orbital turn, the camera array just under the bulbous beak-like nose of the remote-controlled drone swivelled around to get a view of the western fences. Looking practically straight down, the predator spotted the chain-link fence that ran all the way around the industrial estate, interrupted only at the guard-post by the wide asphalt road that ran into the cluster of facilities.

The predator switched from white-hot view to enhanced night optics. Immediately its view of the estate turned from black and white to a shadow-less green hue. And instead of hot bodies lighting up brightly, this time it was lights, both conventional and IR that shone like suns. The guard post was a flood of white that almost washed out the drone's night vision entirely. Funnels of torchlight confirmed the locations of the foot patrols wandering the grounds and larger beams from spotlights bathed the few courtyards between the warehouses in white-out.

Exactly forty seconds after the report of motion to the insertion point, the predator spotted movement on the western fences.

Two green squares were outlined as the predator spotted friendlies moving into position.

Far below where the drone flew, creeping through the damp, tall grass, Gru had no idea he'd been flagged. Perhaps the little marine in the back of his mind recognised the friendly eyes in the sky were acting like angels on his shoulder, noting his position in relation to the enemies unseen to Gru wandering through the AO. But it hardly seemed relevant as the contractor knelt quietly by the chain link fence with his gun held at the ready, eyes sweeping the area in front of him.

He kept his weapon tilted slightly and angled down across the front of his chest-rig. All his important fighting gear hung from his front and sides. Magazines with ammunition along the left half of the abdomen, a zip-up pouch for bulkier gear on his stomach and his sidearm holstered on his right side. A dump pouch dangled over his left hip, and packed onto his back was an assault pack with long term survival gear, from a day-ration to a bladder with drinking water.

Completing Gru's get-up were his camouflage fatigues, shrouding him in the shadows and vegetation, with his baseball cap covering his cropped blonde hair and the visor pulled low over his pale blue eyes. The human's physique betrayed nearly a lifetime of hardship and strife. A toned musculature from the hells of boot camp, his posture from learning how to fight and kill in the school of infantry; even a small scar curling along his right cheek. A souvenir from combat action half a world away from home.

Many men would give their left nut to have lived the life young Gru was privileged to live. In honesty, Gru would give his left nut to go back in time and tell himself to leave that Marine Corp recruiting office well enough alone.

"Prep for contact," the woman's voice from the radio whispered softly within earshot of Gru's side. She had gone down prone, unafraid of the water pooling up from the dirt below their boots. "Set gats to condition zero."

Not really words out of the normal military vocabulary Gru was familiar with, but the order was sound enough. Easiest translation; "get ready to shoot some motherfuckers in the face."

Gru's gun was on first glance pretty standard. The uninitiated would have mistaken it for a standard sort of assault rifle fare used by militaries around the world. The trained eye would identify the HK416C for what it really was - an indestructible, ever reliable piece of death dealing machinery toted only by the globe's elite. How on Earth his employer had managed to source one was anybody's guess.

Gru quickly popped the magazine of his rifle and turned the weapon over, making sure it able to fire. Satisfied he was ready to rack up a bodycount, he replaced the mag and performed the same check on his sidearm.

With the Glock usually affixed in the holster on his right side thoroughly checked, he racked the slide with a sharp yank and slotted the gun back into the kydex. He gave the weapon a light tug to make sure it was secure before returning his hands to his assault rifle.

With a final preparatory click he tugged out the telescoping stock and rested the rubberised butt against his shoulder before glancing sideways.

It had taken Gru a good thirty seconds to go over his fighting equipment. Dev in stark contrast had torn through her prep in half that time.

Serin "Dev" Deveraux never explicitly stated what her military history was, not even to Mercury Dynamics Security recruiters. But her appearance told her story in many more words than her mouth ever did.

Dev was a powerful looking "dragoness," though despite her preferred species title she wasn't an anthro reptilian of the fire-breathing variety. She was a komodo dragon, a rare enough sight on its own. Even with all her kit she somehow managed to pull off a well-groomed, fashionable look. She wasn't like most of the female marines in infantry Gru had so lovingly called "momma-dogs." Dev had well-toned curves of an athletic super model dressed for tactical operations. She had a lean musculature from a lifetime of training and practice in her craft. The craft of operating where normal people didn't dare go.

She never said it blatantly, but Gru suspected she had served in forces of the "special" variety. It was in her eyes, in the way she carried herself, the way she operated with professional precision but with the demeanour of a civilian attending a casual event. Dev had told stories of quelling warlords in African deserts, racking up body-counts of insurgents in Afghan mountains, taking out slave traders in remote Chinese countryside. She even claimed to have been in North Korea once, but failed to explain as to why.

Gru figured he was probably better off not knowing.

Special Forces background, with whatever nation or branch it had been in, seemed to explain Dev's eagerness to get on with the job. Gru had never met anyone so well adjusted to the mercenary life before. Usually guys were just like him; paying the bills with the most dangerous work known to man just while he went to college and built up an education.

Dev revelled in the suck. She was like a giddy schoolgirl hoping to pop her cherry every time the word came from corporate HQ that there was a mission going. She was always the first in line to do something dangerous, like adrenaline was her Viagra.

And she always had a new piece of "Gucci" kit do it in.

Tonight she was clad as Gru usually recognised her. Dev's blood red hair was gathered up under the Ops-Core FAST helmet perched on her head. She wore Crye Precision warrior fatigues in a fancy looking AOR2 camouflage pattern, mottled greens and blacks covering up her taught ashy grey scales. She had black Mechanix Wear gloves over her hands to preserve her manicured talons, and she had a Crye plate-carrier tac-vest over her torso.

That paragraph alone cost somewhere in the three-thousands of dollars. The woman was a walking mil-spec brand advertisement.

In comparison to Gru's hundred-dollar kit he felt like he'd popped some tags from a military thrift shop.

"Ready, baby-cakes?" Dev whispered softly, shooting him an almost seductive glance.

Gru glanced down and just about caught the glint of her amber eyes behind a pair of yellow tinted Oakleys. Damn! That's what I forgot to bring.

Despite missing his shooting glasses, Gru nodded. "Good to go."

What on Earth would eye-pro do against a bullet to the face anyway? He took some comfort - what little there was - in the thought as he watched Dev produce a multi-tool and snip a hole in the fence.

The fence let out a light rattle metallic as Dev slipped through the hole she'd cut and tucked away the cutters before she returned her rifle to its rightful place against her shoulder. The AR15 she held had a longer barrel than Gru's weapon, and far more gadgets. It was about as dressed up as Dev was, customised from the stock right up to the muzzle brake in a plethora of gear that would make any brand-whore shit themselves with envy.

With Dev covering the area with that monster of a weapon as Gru followed through the fence behind her he became suddenly aware of how the dragoness had way too much income. The generous mercenary hazard pay was only feeding her lifestyle.

And while a woman spending all her cash on tactical gear and weaponry was a refreshing change from handbags and shoes, the sheer amount of her revenue she spent on things she could do without was still worrying.

Dev glanced back and locked eyes with the human again, as if to ask "you good?" Gru quickly reached out and gave her shoulder a light squeeze, the "ready to move" signal.

She didn't hesitate, bobbing to her feet and breezing forward in a ghostly silent sprint. Her rifle didn't once move away from her shoulder and her eyes remained peering through the hybrid-sights. On the move she switched left and right, covering multiple points enemies could potentially ambush and engage the duo from.

Gru on the other hand kept his weapon tilted across his chest as he ran after her. Even such a short sprint and he was starting to lose his breath. Already the differences in their military experience was beginning to show. A "Terminal Lance" versus what could well be a Delta Operator.

But Gru kept up at least.

Moving into the shadow behind a warehouse corner, Dev slung her weapon and very carefully peeked out into the well-lit open ground ahead. Gru in the meantime slid up behind her and gave her a pat on the small of her back, indicating he was in position and watching her back.

Dev gave a small "mmmmm" and smiled mischievously over her shoulder. "A little lower, Gru," she whispered. "And harder."

Gru rolled his eyes and looked down his sights again. And just in time too. Where he stood he had a good view over the main gate in and out of the fenced off estate. The checkpoint was bathed in floodlight and patrolled by four rag-tag individuals toting shoddy looking Kalashnikov assault rifles.

A truck rolled through the checkpoint on the blessings of the guards and the single working headlight beam cut into the little patch of darkness Dev and Gru had reserved for themselves.

"Shit! Down!" he hissed, grabbing Dev by the shoulder and dropping to the deck.

As soon as Gru hit the ground though, Dev landed right on top of him. He couldn't tell if she was caught up in the rush to find cover or if she was doing it on purpose. It didn't seem to matter until the truck veered sharply to the right and continued up the road leading into the heart of the industrial estate.

It vanished from view and Dev sat up. Gru tried to do the same, but the komodo dragon's weight straddling him kept him pinned.

"Dev?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Please get off me."

Climbing to their feet, they re-assumed covering positions. Only this time Gru moved up a little closer to Dev's back to whisper; "did you see the flags marking that truck?"

Dev shook her head. "Sorry, handsome. I was too busy looking at you."

Gru smacked her lightly on the helmet and indicated with a grave hand-signal for her to have a look.

The dragoness leaned, peering around the corner to sight the truck again. With a better look at it as the truck pulled up outside a block of offices up ahead it became impossible to mistake the insigne that had been plastered all over CNN for the past few months.

The truck was donned with flags of the Free Militant State - or the FMS. A radicalism militant movement responsible for ethnic and religious "cleansing" in a dozen countries fat westerners often couldn't point out on a map, never mind give a shit about.

Gru checked the thought for fear of being a hypocrite. He wasn't out here sliding through the shadows and aiming a gun at the FMS because he gave a shit about their holocaust movement. Regrettably, the only reason he was out there was because he was getting paid. He thought he'd feel better if he checked his hypocrisy. Truthfully, it only made him feel worse.

"Fucking Militia Shit-heads," Dev snarled in a hushed whisper, her flirty demeanour having dropped a little - only a little. "These cocksuckers are crawling all over the place."

"At least we know we're in the right area." Leaning around his comrade, Gru noted a two story office building on the far end of the open square. "Look over there."

He pointed at one of the lit up windows and Dev watched several silhouettes slide from side to side inside. There was the tell-tale cocking of an arm and the lashing out of a punch. Someone was being beaten to a bloody pulp up there, and Gru would bet his education that the individual on the receiving end was their objective.

"Looks promising," Dev nodded before she indicated the truck that had rolled in. "We need to hurry. Either that truck is full of FMS interrogators, or they're planning to move the objective."

Gru felt his stomach sink into his colon when Dev flashed him another mischievous smirk. "Oh, you're not thinking of doing what I think you are."

Unfortunately she was.

A few minutes of prep later, Gru was limping under Dev's weight. Dev had pulled off her helmet and let it hang from the back of her belt with her rifle hung by her side, hidden between their bodies where they were pressed together. She had one arm around Gru's neck while she drunkenly floundered hip-to-hip with the human as they made their way across the open ground.

Sneaking around would take too long, and assaulting through would pit the duo against overwhelming odds. So they went the route of deception. With imitation patches of the FMS logo pinned to their sleeves, they boldly moved through the well-lit stacks of weapons and ammo crates and idle vehicles. They could pass as militants easily enough as long as they kept their higher end gear hidden. Thus they kept their rifles and Dev's headgear pinned between them, partially out of sight as Gru pretended to help a drunken comrade to the barracks.

It worked, the few militants standing watch either just shook their heads at the sight, or merely averted their gaze. Clearly a militant on duty hitting the sauce a little too hard was not an uncommon sight among the FMS.

It wasn't until they were passing an ammo loaded flatbed truck with an officer-looking militant that Gru's heart really stopped. The man was a human clad in matching camouflage fatigues similar to Gru's. Perched on his head was a beret with a shiny cap-badge, and he carried himself the way ex-military would.

Spotting them, the militia officer's scowl deepened and he started walking over. Gru broke out in sweat, the one arm around Dev tightened while his fee hand slowly slid down to the handle of his pistol.

"What are you two..." the man started to demand in a loud voice when Dev suddenly saved the day by letting out a high pitched drunken laugh.

... and then something she hadn't been crazy enough to do until then.

Gru felt his eyes widen as the dragoness grabbed him by the collar, threw him into the side of the truck with a clang, and forced her lips roughly against his. Gru's head span as he tried to make sense of the woman's scent suddenly filling his every sense and the wet feeling of her tongue forcing itself into close-quarters-combat with his own. All he could see was her scrunched up eyes as she forcefully leaned into the kiss, hungrily grinding up against him like a woman possessed.

He did his best to join in, but he was too off-guard to really get into the kiss. Dev seemed to do enough convincing for the both of them, breathing sharply and moaning as she tilted her head from side to side, manically invading Gru's mouth with her tongue.

Watching through the corner of his eye Gru could just about spot the officer freeze mid-step with a sheepish expression. Blushing, the insurgent officer turned about face and quickly moved off to leave the "lovers" alone.

When he vanished from Gru's field of view the human quickly patted Dev on the shoulder, the signal to stop now. Though she didn't let him break the kiss for another thirty seconds... probably to be safe.

"That was close," Gru panted to catch his breath, looking both ways to make sure it was clear. "That officer almost had us."

"What officer?"

Gru gaped at Dev's mischievous smile, then sighed explosively. "Let's just keep moving."

They were able to cross the rest of the square without incident and slipped into the building. The hallways, like outside, were scarcely patrolled. They ghosted past a few inhabited rooms were individual insurgents were drinking, lazing about or playing cards.

The building was quite like a school, the cluttered hallways littered with rusty old lockers. Each room had mouldy chairs and tables stacked up in the corners and book shelves that were falling apart under dead weight.

"What is this place?" Dev whispered curiously as they carefully edged up a flight of stairs.

"What, they don't have schools where you're from?" Gru chortled softly. "Actually, that kind of explains a lot."

Dev huffed as she leaned out into the hall and checked both ways before crossing. "Meet me behind the bleachers," - she paused and leaned in close to whisper - "I'll show you a thing or two."

Gru thought back to that kiss just a few minutes ago and figured he'd been shown all he could handle for tonight. "Let's just keep things quiet."

Taking a knee the duo spent some time threading suppressors onto the ends of their rifles. As they quietly worked, the sounds of a beating grew louder and more violent. The wet smack of fists beating against wet meat were interrupted only by the heavy breaths of fatigued interrogators. They'd obviously been going at it for a while, and Gru only hoped there was enough left of their objective worth extracting.

Returning the stock of his weapon to his shoulder Gru moved up first and halted outside the door from where the sounds were at their loudest. He paused leaning against the doorpost to listen. Several more smacks of fists hitting an unconscious body rang out. Several heavily accented voices laughed.

Gru nodded to Dev as she took up position and got ready. Levelling his rifle, the human switched into semi-automatic fire and put a bullet through the lock. metal and wood splintered and Dev threw her full weight through the door. It swung right the way around, smacked into the wall and came off its hinges by the time Gru followed her into the room.

He only had a few seconds. But those few moments were enough time to take in the sights.

Five men were on their feet. A mix of anthros and humans, all in paramilitary gear mixing civvies and camo fatigues. They had the bread and butter of insurgency weaponry, AK-47 assault rifles dangling by their sides. There was one more taking a seat, though he didn't have much of a choice. The blood soaking his face and the front of his camouflage uniform was evidence enough of the brutality he'd suffered so far.

He didn't react to their dynamic entry, but the five armed insurgents did. Thankfully they weren't ready though.

Dev and Gru scattered like beads of mercury across a polished floor. Gru stepped to his left and with his back to the wall fired stationary while Dev's gun cycled as the dragoness zipped right.

The silencers on their guns turned what would have been deafening cracks of thunder into short puffs of air whistling from the extended muzzle. At most anybody in the next room would have heard the inexplicable "pak!" echo down the hallway. Easily enough mistaken for the sound of someone dropping something in the wooden floor.

The resulting thuds of bodies hitting the floor was much more distinct, and Gru hoped nobody was downstairs to hear it.

Gru braced and whipped out shots as fast as his finger could pull and as quickly as his eyes could identify targets. Dev had the right locked down and from his stationary position his arc of fire was clear to engage the left of the room.

The insurgents twitched, swatting at a swarm of invisible bees as small bloody craters blossomed across their bodies. Gru was switching targets so quickly he had to backtrack and put extra rounds in those that still stood when his last engaged enemy dropped before the rest.

A split second of extra perseverance and half a magazine later three insurgents were on the ground, added to the one Dev had put down. Despite the rich killstreak, Gru's shooting was overshadowed by the fact Dev had zipped her single hostile in the head, in full run within milliseconds of registering the threat. On top of that, she'd bodied the booger eater even as he stood half hunched over their objective, blowing him clear of the heavily injured hostage.

That left one hostile, and Gru turned to face the final insurgent. Unfortunately his rifle was still pointed away. The enemy's rifle was however pointed squarely at Gru's chest, the sight almost stopping his heart before that last trigger pull might do that in a literal sense.

Dev was on him. One hand pushed away the Kalashnikov and the other came up sharply with the knife she cleared from the sheath. The blade sank up to the hilt under the insurgent's chin and up through the roof of his mouth. She sawed down then out to one side before she gently lowered the gurgling hostile to the ground.

Dev casually flicked the excess blood from her bayonet and slotted it back in its sheath. Gru on the other hand was struggling a lot harder to hold his footing as well as his previous meal.

His heart was beating at a million beats per second as his chest and bowels were gripped in pants-wetting fear. Fortunately though Gru's bladder was empty, so he didn't have to run the rest of the contract with an ammonia reeking stain on his pants.

"So, that happened," Gru managed to say keeping an even voice. He suddenly noted Dev looked a little down and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you look so miserable for?"

Dev sighed and shrugged her shoulders sadly. "It's just a pity they didn't get to shoot back. It would have made things way more exciting."

"You got problems."

Gru knelt by their objective and cut his hands free. The beaten human was in a white and grey digital pattern camo uniform. United States Army if the colours were anything to go by. The nametape, his dog-tags and then a biometric check back at base would confirm the young soldier was Private Jason Ramirez.

That was their mission. A jedi-ninja smash-and-grab in enemy territory. Militants had captured the soldier during an ambush on troops a few days ago. Rescue efforts by the government were spread thin, so Mercury Dynamics Security had been employed to lend a hand. The industrial estate was one of multiple locations the soldier could have been held in. It was simple luck that Dev and Gru had struck hostage.

"Jason, take a breath," Gru whispered soothingly as the young man twitched to his touch. "We're government contractors. We're here to get you out, okay buddy?"

The poor boy was too badly beaten to make any other sound than a light whimper. His left eye was completely swollen and closed. Gru doubted the private had even heard his introduction properly. Something to worry about later. There would be medical assistance standing by on the extraction helicopter.

Considering they made it that far...

Jason Ramirez suddenly sprang to life. In a terrifying moment of sobriety the young army private lashed out and grabbed Gru by the collar. The contractor recoiled, but Jason had just enough strength to pull Gru into his wide-eyed gaze.

"They're coming," the beaten private wheezed hollowly. "They wait... in the valley... dreaming..."

Gru frowned, trying to translate as Jason slumped back weakly again. The dragoness beside him merely shrugged casually though.

"What do you think that's all about?"

"He's delusional. We have to move him now." Gru swung one of Jason Ramirez's arms around his neck and helped the young man up. "Let me guess. You got another hair-brained scheme for exfil?"

Dev's wicked smile spread. "Oh, yeah." She cocked her head and spoke into her headset mic. "Angel. Ready for the rain. Bring some noise, baby."

There was no response for a time, and for a second Gru thought his partner was just blowing cool sounding noises. Then he heard the infamous "wings level" report on his radio.

"JDAM at angels three."

"Oh, God... you didn't."

The resulting explosion drowned out Dev's whoops of joy as she skipped to the window in time to see a cluster of trucks disappear in a screaming fireball. The ensuing chaos was hardly fathomable and Gru hardly wanted to be any part of it. He carried Ramirez down the hall, down the stairs and out of the building to survey a continuation of the carnage.

Their air support wasn't letting up, dropping air-to-surface rocket after rocket. Every _"JDAM away"_ended another dozen or so lives in a hellish inferno of explosions ripping across the FMS camp.

Gru slowly looked past where Ramirez lazily hung from him and saw Dev bouncing slightly with a massive smile. He sighed.

"You're scary, you know that?

"Angel, package secure," Gru reported into his radio as he carried Ramirez for the estate perimeter. With the insurgents running around for cover and looking for buckets of water to put out the aftermath of the air-strike nobody noticed three figures hobbling off into the night.

"We are making our egress now, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Gru. Extraction is on the way. See you in the few."

~~~~

The bright summer skyline of Arcadia city sparkling like a pearly white city of marble made a nice change from the Kerfistan countryside Gru had been fighting in for almost a week straight. Seeing home again made the pant-wetting fear of firefights and the twelve-hour return flight on an uncomfortable cargo plane all worth it.

After securing Private Jason Ramirez, Dev and Gru's work hadn't been entirely done. They'd spent several more days hitting up FMS depots like the one they'd rescued young Ramirez from, ambushing insurgents, assassinating top-dogs in the hierarchy and generally keeping the KMS off-balance so the joint government task force in country could rally up and liberate the big cities from insurgent hands.

Hell, Gru didn't even want to think about it anymore. It was just some fucked up war on the other side of the globe that he could comment about in ignorance now. He'd been the Sheepdog for too long now. It was time to be a Sheep, and it was time to do Sheep shit.

Step one: Educate.

Arcadia University was a rather prestigious establishment. It wasn't exactly cheap to get into either, so Gru made every penny of his hazard pay with Mercury Dynamics Security count. He'd been looking forward to rotating home with some extended leave from work so he could start his first semester. He was planning to do some more smaller jobs with the security firm over summer then rotate home again for the last semester. After his first year he'd see how things sat and take it from there.

Already Gru could tell by crossing the sunlit campus full of eager young men and women balancing study and parties that university would be a cake-walk compared to boot-camp. All there was to it was study and talk to hot-girls. How hard could that be?

Quite tricky as it would turn out.

Finding his first class, Gru walked into the room to find a bunch of freshman like himself sitting about, chatting loudly. Only they weren't quite like him. They were much younger, like they were only just out of highschool. And the hairstyles ranged between out of control curls to oddly flat comb-over mohawks. Gru wasn't sure why it was the first thing he noticed about the boys in the class, but suddenly he felt very conscious about being the only one in the room with a neatly close cropped haircut.

Then there were the clothes. There were t-shirts with a great number of slogans and graffiti plastered across the fronts that simply didn't make sense, advertising racing teams and surf-groups that didn't exist, and every pair of jeans he spotted must have been tight enough to cut off circulation to the toes.

Gulping, Gru ignored the youngsters and edged his way to the front of the class. There were smaller cliques dividing up the lecture hall, but most of them similar youngsters holding rowdy conversations and somehow sitting comfortably in tight pants.

Plucking his ball cap from his head and stuffing it into his bag, Gru found an unoccupied seat skirting the aisle running down the middle of the lecture room. The girl occupying the seat beside the empty chair seemed about Gru's age, a generation above that dominating the room. Some common ground Gru figured as he cleared his throat to get her attention.

The vixen brushed a lock of silver blonde hair out of her eyes and looked up to meet Gru's unfordable gaze. She had pale silver and grey fur, with glistening blue eyes brought out by her darkened eyelids. She had a bit of a punk-rocker vibe about her with a trio of studs lining one of her pointed ears, the grungy black vest she wore and her baggy cargo pants that seemed to be ripped artistically at the knee. There were even some streaks of metallic purple running through her short, straight hair.

"Yeah?" she asked.

Gru resisted another gulp and grinned. "Can I sit here?"

The fox looked between the human and the seat before shrugging. "Sure. It's a free country."

Gru's mouth tweaked as he sat. "I sure hope it is."

"I'm Randa."

Gru was in the middle of pulling his notebook out when he froze and looked over the vixen beside him. She was wearing a pretty smile and held out her hand, leaving the unprepared human perplexed.

"Uh..."

Randa's half-smirk grew a little. "Normally when a pretty girl introduces herself the hot guy replies with his name."

"I'm George. My friends call me Gru," he blurted out, shaking her hand.

"Gru, eh? That's a funny name."

Gru didn't have an answer for that one, but it seemed his broad smile was either charming or cute enough to hold Randa's attention for the time being. And the exhilaration he felt was pretty intense either way. He was in school like a normal person holding a normal conversation with a girl. This was great!

Unfortunately it all went tits up from there. And it wasn't even Gru who fucked it all up by saying something stupid.

"Not funny for a mercenary it ain't."

Gru slammed his eyes shut hoping that voice had just been a figment of his imagination. "Oh, boy."

No such luck as a certain anthro komodo dragon slid into the seat beside Gru. In civilian attire Dev was still pretty operator looking. She wore a pair of fitted cargo bottoms in a black camouflage pattern and a light grey soft shell jacket.

"It's not too uncommon for mercenary's to have nicknames; right Gru?" Dev nudged with a sly smile.

Randa asked curiously, "You're a mercenary?"

"Actually, the term would be contractor," Gru droned.

Dev chuckled, answering Randa's question. "You'd better believe, pretty girl; this guy right here is a murderous ground-pounding sex-machine." Gru's cringe only fuelled her enthusiastic assault. "Wanna know what I don't get though? You're a well-paid contractor. You live a life of excitement and fuck-starting faces. Why the hell are you wasting your time with this over-priced school?"

Gru hissed at her like a viper, "Because I shoot people, Dev. You think I wanna do that for the rest of my life?" With a worried glance at Randa, hoping she hadn't heard that, Gru added, "What are you even doing here?"

"Job. Boss called me up. Told me to get you. We got pirates." Dev waited for her buddy to get it, but when he didn't say anything she exclaimed, "Somalia, dude! Somalian pirates!"

"I can't go to Somalia. I got classes."

Dev huffed. "Classes are cancelled. C'mon." she was out of the seat and walking to the exit just like that. The conversation was over and the dragoness had made the final decision.

Gru was going, whether he liked it or not.

"Fuck."

As he packed up, Randa must have noticed his slump. "Can't ignore the call of duty?"

"Yeah... what was that thing you said about a free country?"

Randa chortled. "Hey, I could take class notes for you if you want."

"You'd do that?"

The vixen smiled. "Sure. I'd be happy to help."

Gru decided there and then he liked this girl. He just hoped he'd live long enough to see her again.

~~~~

The ship was a glowing beacon in the midst of the ocean. The waves were calm and the vessel barely moved. Though Gru was pretty sure even in a storm the behemoth could anchor itself still with tonnage alone. She must have been at least a thousand feet from one end to another, the dark mid-ship dominated by piles of freight containers that didn't fit below deck.

The aerial approach was quiet despite the buzzing noise made by the helicopter bringing them in low. They swooped close enough to the ocean surface to remain undetected on radar. All they had to worry about was someone looking out a window and spotting their black silhouette in the darkness.

They were the only ones aboard the helicopter, not counting the Mercury Dynamics Security pilot and co-pilot. The vehicle itself was devoid of brands, a rental from a reputable enough South African company. Rental would be traced to a shell corporation in Hawaii if anyone were to check, making this whole trip extremely clandestine.

There was technically nothing wrong with Mercury operating out here. It was international waters, so jailhouse rules applied. But apparently their latest client wanted this kept as quiet as possible. Mercury Dynamics was all about customer satisfaction, so they called their most subtle contractors to the job.

That was what put Gru on the helicopter, he wasn't quite sure why Dev was allowed to go.

Preparing their gear for drop, their headsets crackled and the operations director back home in Washington was patched to them via satellite-connection. There was a little lag and a bit more crackle than an average landline, but honestly, with the ability to speak with someone on the far end of the globe in relative real-time, they had nothing to complain about.

_ "Alright you two,"_ the operations director briefed. "Stand by for your mission brief. Thirty hours ago pirates took a cargo ship known as the Nautilus Queen and forced the crew to abandon ship. They now own the Nautilus Queen but have yet to make any ransom demands for the cargo. It is the belief of our client that they may be after her particular package.

"The mission is a standard snoop and scoop. Locate and secure our client's package, then exfil. You can drop out in a lifeboat and activate your GPS or if you don't mind getting wet, go for a swim. Once your GPS beacon is active the chopper will double back and pick you up. However do be advised, it takes the helicopter thirty minutes to reach you from the aircraft carrier acting as our base of operations.

"The objective is a briefcase, marked in the manifest as PXZ-02716. The shipping company is not helping us locate the package on the ship, so your first course of action should be to locate the cargo manifest.

"Finally, thermal scans indicate exactly forty bodies aboard. That's forty pirates versus the two of you."

"We'll be discreet," Gru promised. The promise wasn't even for their operations director's benefit, it was for his own. The less contact they made with the enemy, the easier this smash and grab would be, the more likely he'd live to see the rest of his semester at college.

Dev noted the concern in her buddy's eyes, leaned in and roughly wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. In her mind it must have been an affectionate gesture. In Gru's mind it was kind of sore.

"Relax. This'll be a cake-walk," Dev assured.

"I'm gonna quote you on that."

"I admit nothing, deny everything and make counter-accusations."

The helicopter tipped back and they come to ahover over the cargo deck, right above a looming darkness on the ship. Gru kicked a spool of nylon climbing rope over board and the ends of it hit the metal floor of the open deck with a thud. He grabbed hold and slid to the bottom, landing as lightly as he could.

Taking a knee, Gru peered through the crosshairs of the EOTECH holo-sight mounted on his rifle - one of the many spare sights Dev had laying about her apartment and figured Gru might have some use for. Even his current helmet with forehead mounted night vision scope was one of the spare OPS-Core FAST helmets Dev had laying around as a spare. He was even packing a kevlar vest under his customary chest-rig, just in case.

Squeezing shut his shooting eye and opening his off-eye he peered through the pale green night-sight and cut through the shadows with invisible infra-red light. Nothing moved. No bodies showed up. They were clear.

Dev landed right on his heels and the spool of rope hit the deck between them. The dragoness secured it in her buddy's backpack and the duo ditched the drop zone. Moving off by about fifty metres, enough room for them to manoeuvre and conduct a firefight in case hostiles came investigating the sound of the helicopter, they found some cosy shadows and sat for a moment.

No investigation party came in the minutes that followed and Gru finally spoke up.

"Okay, how should we proceed?"

"What, you don't have a plan?" Gru shook his head and Dev gave a triumphant little chuckle. "Poor peasant. Never fear, for this mighty draconic goddess has a plan that will blow your socks off."

"Oh, good. And here I thought we couldn't get any more doomed."

She threw him a dirty look, then rose to her feet and started moving. "You head to mid-ship." As she moved her voice faded to the commlink in Gru's ear. "I'm going to he_ad up to the bridge. They'll have a full cargo manifest which we can use to locate our package."_

"That's actually kind of smart," Gru complimented as he directed himself in the opposite direction.

"A compliment? You looking to get lucky, big-boy?"

Gru didn't say anything back, deciding not to feed the beast.

Reaching the mid-ship before Dev got back to him he waited patiently a few minutes, then whispered, "Are you ready yet?"

"As much as your enthusiasm turns me on; would you give me a freakin' second? You can't rush art." There was a muted pause. "Okay, two baddies down. Bridge secure. I'm looking for the log now."

"I'll hold."

"Here we go. Looks like we got lucky. Our container is on the port edge of row eighty-eight. The doors should be clear to open. Container is marked Charlie-Echo-nine-four-three-one."

Even as she spoke, Gru was moving. "Nine-four-three-one," Gru repeated as he scanned the containers along the port side. Rows eighty-six and seven went past and he halted by a large rust coloured shipping container with white numerals branding the side. "Got it. Stand by."

Sligning his rifle, Gru undid the latch of the cargo container and cracked the door. His night vision cleared the pitch black interior and he stepped inside. Aware of the hollow sounds his footsteps made inside the container he walked as quietly as he could to a single pedestal welded into the middle of the container's floor. Mounted on it was a silver suitcase.

Gru quietly popped the latches and gently lifted the top of the case. Inside was foam padding, the kind that could be cut to shape to store things like chemical weapons, nuclear warhead cores, JDAM guidance kits, etcetera.

This one held a jade carving it looked expensive, but not as expensive as hiring a mercenary group to liberate it from some Somalian pirates. The carving was fully three-dimensional, of some sort of scaly claw - probably a dragon claw Dev would argue. Everything was dragons with her. she had posters and statues and other dragon memorabilia plastered all over her apartment. She even considered herself a "dragoness."

Speaking of which.

"Gru?" Dev asked in a heavy, mystical voice. "This is your gorgeous, omnipotent and painfully sexy goddess speaking. Do you have an update for me?"

The human snapped the suitcase shut and did up the clasps again. "I got the package. What's the next part of your so-called plan, oh-great-and-powerful goddess?"

"Oooh, I get all tingly when you call me that. Say it again."

"Focus."

"The logs indicate the crew were booted overboard in lifeboats. The pirates were obviously after the cargo and not ransom money. Unusual. Let's see... ah! One lifeboat left, mid-ship, port side. You can climb aboard and bug out."

Gru was already moving with his rifle held at hip height in one hand and the case in the other. "You on your way?"

"Nope, I'm gonna hang some pirates."

"Seriously?" he hissed. "That's not the plan."

"My plan, remember? You're welcome to join me, sweetness. You know how excited I get after a fight. You might get lucky."

The human growled with frustration as he saw one of the lifeboats Dev was talking about up ahead. It was one of those long-term survival boats with the insulated canopy. There was probably food nad water rations aboard for days as well as medical supplies. Everything to keep a crew warm, fed and safe in even arctic temperatures until rescue arrived.

The vessel hung on a crane assembly, lashed over the side of the Nautilus Queen.

"Dev, stop fucking about and get down here. I have the lifeboat in my sights."

"I'm hoping to get fucking about. Come on up and have some fun."

"Dev, I'm not kidding. Cut the shit." There was no more reply from the scaly operator. "Dev?" Gru hissed growing a little more desperate now. "Dev, respond immediately, that's an order, operator!"

A rattle of gunfire washed through the night air. The fire of AKs was distinct compared to the 'pop-pop-pop' of Dev's AR-15. The rattling of fire went on for a solid sixty seconds before suddenly everything went quiet.

"Dev, contact report!"

His heart stopped when he suddenly heard Dev's struggled screams on the comms. "Gah! Get the hell off me! Get off me, you damn dirty apes! Fuck off-..." There was a crash like someone dropped the mic and the comms went eerie quiet.

"Dev! Dev are you there!?" Gru waited a full ten seconds before he cursed, "Shit!" and backed into the shadows to think.

Things were going very bad. He was on his own against thirty-eight trigger-happy, unpredictable hostiles. There was no support, no quick-reaction-force as backup and a single miscalculation could end in gruesome death...

He figured Dev would probably love for their roles to be reversed right now. But that didn't help him in the slightest.

Decision time came.

Gru could secure the package and assault the bridge, probably giving his life to rescue the crazy bitch with a death wish who hit on him so often it made him uncomfortable. Or Gru could pack up and bug out, leave Dev to her self-induced fate and live with shame and guilt to a ripe old age.

... actually, that sounded pretty good. Especially the ripe old age part.

The lifeboat dropped out of its mounts and hit the water below with a crash, then bounced over the waves in the cargo ship's wake. Within seconds the lifeboat and the contents were safely beyond the searchlights of the freighter and was broadcasting a beacon for pickup.

Gru watched it go from the deck and sighed. The helicopter would loop around and secure the package on board. Mission accomplished.

He knew he'd made the wrong decision, but to hell with it. There was no changing it now. May as well live with it. So shouldering his rifle, the human moved out, fooling himself into thinking he had a well thought out plan.

In Dev's thought patterns it would have been considered a well thought out plan. Gru planned to attack the bridge and kill every motherfucker standing. Dev would be proud of the poor influence she was on him.

The closer he got to the stern, the built up area to the back of the ship, the better the lighting got. Lifting up his night vision Gru noted the increase of enemy activity. The pirates were keeping to the stern, probably making the quarters and the bridge their home for the long haul. He wasn't going to pretend to know what they were planning, but he wasn't going to pretend to care either.

Pausing in the shadows flipped up his night scope, waited for his eyes adjusted and moved when enemy sentries had their backs turned. Avoiding contact he slipped into an external stairwell and stealthily crept up the side of the conning tower. Every flight of stairs he paused to check his six, check his twelve and listen for nearby footsteps. Then when he was satisfied it was clear he'd move on up.

After the climb there was just one more corridor between him and his target.

In the open and in light he used speed as security and didn't stop moving until his shoulder bumped into the bridge doorframe. Immediately his left hand moved off his rifle and slid a cylinder from the elastic pouch on the back of his belt. The nine-banger gave a click as he managed to awkwardly work the safety pin out of the spoon with his thumb.

Gru took a deep breath, in through his nose, then a slow exhale through the mouth. He felt his heartbeat calm after the fourth breath, then opened his eyes with a set expression.

"I got a bad feeling about this," he mumbled, but he pressed anyway so not to give himself time or space to reconsider.

The bridge door swung open and Gru got a split second view of the situation. Dev was on her knees in the middle of the command centre. She was low and doubled over as one of the pirates pulled the stock of his AK from her gut.

With the pirate who'd struck her were two more OPFOR, both laughing at Dev's expense but with their backs to the human. Much more Gru didn't see as he released the object in his hand.

The flashbang's spoon flicked loose and the grenade bounced once by the time Gru slammed the door shut. The heavy steel bulkhead muffled the resulting roar of noise and light. Throwing himself into the door again like a yo-yo being pulled from side to side, he shouldered through with his weapon raised.

The pirates were a blubbering mess of confusion while Gru turned the command deck into a battlefield.

Two gunshots barked and the nearest enemy dropped onto all fours before slumping over onto his side. In the meantime Gru angled his gun up and let loose another round. This one caught the next pirate in the mouth, shattering dentistry and tearing up soft facial flesh. The human spun around and fell gargling tooth-fragments to the deck.

The third managed to get a burst of automatic fire loose, each one of the rounds peppering the conning-tower's ceiling. Gru put the final OPFOR down with a neat double-tap to the chest.

Whirling around Gru made sure to check the corners of the room as Dev scrambled across the ground to where her gear lay in a pile. She'd plugged and covered just in time, shaking off the effects of the flashbang grenade quickly enough to wrestle her way back into her tac-vest and work her rifle sling around her neck.

Standing a little unevenly the dragoness backed up towards Gru and put her back to his, both contractors covering each of the only points of ingress on their position. Normally both of them would want to displace as quickly as possible, drawing the enemy into a funnel that they could control. Unfortunately the sound of shouting voices approaching told the duo that time had run the fuck out.

"No wonder the military kicked you out, you fucking psycho," Gru spat bitterly.

"Hey, I just operate on a whole other level." Hearing the rattle of boots thundering down the corridor towards them, Dev enthusiastically worked her fire selector into full-automatic. "Here they come. Let's do this shit!"

The shouts and screams in Somali were louder now as men rushed the bridge. But the duo stood their ground.

Because when the enemy starts rushing your position, they expect you to run, they expect you to cower, and they expect you to die. They do not expect 210 pounds of assaulter standing ground, firing precisely alongside equally physical specimens, looking like the four horsemen of the fucking apocalypse looking for souls. The message sent was clear and simple: You want to kill me, bro? You want to kill my friend? You're gonna have to fucking earn it; 'cause we sure as shit aren't backing down.

The door burst open on Dev's side and she pulled the trigger, whacking out rounds in quick succession. Bodies were immediately piled over the threshold.

Gru ignored the ringing Dev's weapon left in his ears as he fired at pirates on his side. OPFOR stumbled and retreated as rounds pinged the steel bulkhead and they blind fired past the human. He leaned, sliced-the-pie on them and fired from his corrected angle. The pirate firing was thrown backwards into his comrades causing them to falter and hesitate.

Dev held her ground at Gru's back, making sure his six o'clock was locked down like Fort Knox. She'd never dream of leaving his side, especially not now. the fact he'd come to rescue her like a knight riding a white horse had her dewy, a state that had nothng to do with the loud motivating action they were milling themselves through right now.

Pirates fell through ghe door at Gru's side and he put a fully-automatic burst into the mass of them

One managed to slip through the hail of bullets hidden behind his fellows and opened fire at Gru before tripping and going down hard.

He had the downright inhumane state of the offending weapon and the fact the sights were obviously not zeroed to thank for the holes put in the wall behind him and not in his chest. Any AK enthusiast would have broken down in livid tears for the poor assault rifle held within the man's clutches.

Gru just counted his blessings and put two rounds in the booger-eater's chest. He screamed, he fell, and Gru had already switched targets back to the doorway before the pirate had even hit the ground.

An ominous 'clack' ended Gru's shooting cycle and he dropped the rifle into the sling, whipping out his sidearm with a single tug. The pistol continued blapping the fools as they streamed in, 9mm rounds tearing through two targets and forcing them to the ground. The next batch of pirates scrambled back for cover giving Gru time to cycle back to his assault rifle again and slot a fresh magazine into place.

Dev reloaded at nearly the same time, flicking an empty magazine to her right and bringing the next into place before the empty even hit the deck.

Minutes passed and they were still slinging lead. Mags were low, they knew at any moment they'd be forced to start throwing harsh language instead of bullets, so they doubled the mad shade flung. Dev was screaming out streams of curses as she switched to semi-automatic and landed a mixture of torso and head-shots. Skulls were split in two with ever other utterance of "fuck" that Gru had to admit sounded kind of sexy rolling off Dev's tongue.

Then he remembered he was knee deep in this shit because of her and his anger fuelled the continued killing of hostiles throwing themselves at him.

Something hit him in the chest, flattening against the kevlar in his flack vest. Gru stumbled into Dev's back and she caught him, pressing her own weight against him as a counter.

Keeping their ground they took turns reloading to their last mags, then pulled sidearms.

Then, as if a switch had been thrown the stream of hostiles ended. Gunfire turned to faint ringing and the rain of brass petals stopped. Gru stared at the locked slide of his glock as his last round had put a hole in the last pirate on his side.

On Dev's side she had two more rounds in her sidearm which she lovingly pumped into one of the already dead hostiles for good measure. The dragoness took a few deep breaths checking her gear in case she had a magazine hidden away somewhere that she may have forgotten about in the heat of the moment. As she counted bodies she could feel her partner trembling nervously against her back.

"I count forty. We should be clear."

Clear. No more hostiles to bother them. Good.

Gru turned and Georged Dev right in the face. Full body swing; came out of Arcadia, where he grew up, picked up speed over the west-coast, hooked in across the Pacific Ring of Fire and turned off the lights on Miss Deveraux aboard the Nautilus Queen.

Alas, they only flickered. Power was restored. Dev had a titanium jaw.

She recoiled, but with an already busted lip and her unmoved expression it was impossible to tell if Gru had done any damage; physical or mental otherwise. He was howling with pain however, shaking out his hand and cracking his finger joints back into place. The kevlar padding on his knuckles had done nothing for him.

Dev was on him a split second later. Gru couldn't even fight back and she had her lips against his, like back in Kerfistan only with double the violence. She tasted like pennies and the overwhelming musk of burnt out cordite filled Gru's nostrils. The assault was enough to push him back until he crashed into a console.

Everyone reacted to adrenaline differently. Gru got the shakes, and Dev got wet... very wet.

She was border line raping him, her hands making directly for his belt. Gru fought it. He punched her in the ribs, slapped her in the face and tried to pull away, but the actions only drove Dev deeper into him. Her tongue assailed the inside of his mouth until it had dominated the airspace and she practically bent him backwards over the navigation console. Pain lanced his lip where she bit him, quite unlovingly.

There was barely any fumbling to get his pants undone and he felt Dev's hand snake across the front of his shorts. Something in her must have overpowered him because Dev's touch caused a bulge to form.

It wasn't difficult for Dev to pin Gru to the ground. She practically lifted him up by his tac-gear and threw him down, his rifle clattering loudly with the rest of his gear. She kept him down with her weight, one arm on his chest-rig, the other undoing his pants. She was like a wild animal in heat. Her own pants came off with surprising ease and she was on him.

All basic courtship procedures of their culture had been bypassed in an instant. There was no romantic pause just before entering a loving partner. There was no anxiety to prepare for the coupling to come. Dev's slit was already streaming with arousal and her lips parted eagerly to let her human prey enter. His member was swallowed whole with one powerful downward thrust, her velvety walls choking him with the aggression of a hitman pulling a plastic bag over his head to silence him.

Gru wondered secretly how many guys Dev had killed in that manner - then with a sweat wondered how many had been ended in this manner.

Dev wasn't sitting still for very long. Hissing to herself, her large eyes blissfully half-shut and showing only a little of the whit eunder her irises she began to move. Her back arched and she gyrated her hips up and down, back to front, every movement sliding her lover in and out of her with smooth, wet motions. Undulating back and forth it was like she were doing an erotic dance of feral lust and pleasure.

He wouldn't let her kiss him anymore, keeping his forearm pinned defensively across her chest. Her teeth gritted in frustration, but she didn't stop bouncing and moaning. He hit her while she was enjoying herself, dug his nails as best he could into her scales and slammed a closed fist against her sides. Dev somehow took it as a sign of enjoyment, growing quite wild with pleasure and she went on.

Then from deep within something weird happened. All of Gru's pent up aggression, all his hate and all his hurtful malice came out in three little words whispered up at the dragoness.

"I hate you."

Gru suddenly hated himself. He hadn't meant to say that. He didn't hate her really, not even for what she was doing right now. She was his friend! She always had his back, as bat-shit crazy as she was.

Fortunately Dev didn't seem to take it to heart. She smiled, enjoying the words and hissed back, "Good. How much do you hate me?" Her pace increased, sliding up and down faster now. "Gods, tell me how much you hate me."

Gru was left for words as he clenched, trying to focus on anything else than the crazy woman on top of him. What the hell was wrong with her? What made her so fucked up? He actually feared to think.

"Hit me," Dev suddenly started begging.

Gru lashed out, striking her softly at first. He whacked her in the ribs, then recoiled and tapped her in the gut. She clenched just before each blow causing the human's weak strikes to bounce off.

All of sudden Dev had her hand around his throat and he felt his heart race. "Harder, you fucking sissy!" she moaned

Gru clocked her right in the face. His hand jolted with pain just like before. Dev recoiled and licked a little blood from the corner of her mouth as she moaned with renewed ecstasy. He hit her in the gut, harder again. She twitched and convulsed. The velvety walls she suffocated his member with vibrated as her powerful inner muscles began to ripple and spasm. Her hips weren't moving, but the sucking motions of her tunnel continued to milk Gru for everything he had.

It was too much.

His defensive arm turned offensive and he wrapped his fingers around her sleek neck, squeezing the taught scales and powerful muscles beneath. His free arm hit her again in the bottom few ribs. It was the blow that sent her over the edge. She doubled over, nipping him in the neck as he screamed through gritted teeth.

They came at the same time, Dev's honey running freely down her inner thigh and soaking the human's crotch while his length twitched; firing ropes of thick cum into her cervix.

Moments crawled by as they lay there connected, panting from the exertion, the aftermath of adrenaline, more exertion and the afterglow of a powerful joint orgasm. Gru's breathing interrupted a few times as he gulped hard wondering what the hell had just happened to him. Was this right, was it wrong? What would happen now?

Were he and Dev together now? Would that even work since they worked together? Did she even like him or was he just a fuck of opportunity?

The lizard lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. It was a watery expression he had never seen on Dev's face before. All her aggressive adrenaline-junkie mad-woman bullshit she had pent up in her three years' operating with Gru was finally spent and gone. She looked at him like a normal woman gazing at a lover.

Her next kiss was gentle and loving, and it provided Gru with all the answers to all his questions.

~~~~

Randa turned her head as something flopped into the seat beside her. Class was going to start any minute now, and the vixen was supposed to be getting out her books and notes. Only she couldn't stop staring with a pretty bewildered smile at the human beside her.

His shirt was a mess. There was some haggard stubble on his chin, his hair looked like his girlfriend - if he even had one - had been tousling it all night.

George Ruben, otherwise known as Gru, didn't just look like he had a bad few nights, he looked like he had a bad week!

"Wow." Randa struggled to find the words to describe him. "You look pretty beat."

Gru rubbed one of his eyes under the pitch black shades he wore as if to advertise to the world he had a hangover. "It's pronounced fucked."

"So how was Somalia?"

Gru sighed. "Oh, you know. Hot, sticky and tiring."

"We are talking about the trip, right?"

That had Gru pausing to wonder.

The End