Metal closed his eyes and sent a prayer up to whatever deity that might be listening in. It was like hellfire all around him. Mortars hitting uncomfortably close, bullets causing fragments of concrete to fly off the wall behind them and dusting them with small pebbles.
They were out-gunned and out-manned. The situation was fucked.
He glanced over at the person next to him. A still fresh-faced medic, who kept his hair a little longer than the rest of them.
If today was his last day, if this was his last hour. If this was the man he would die next to, he was okay with that.
He saw Trent check his magazine, "Pretty fucking close to Winchester…"
Metal couldn't help but smirk, "Hell then… Guess we'll have to get our shit together then."
"Tell you what…" Trent shouted over the sound of the fight they were in the middle of, "If we get out of this alive, I'll buy you dinner."
"Mean it?"
"Yeah."
"With a drink as well?"
"As long as we both make it out alive, yeah."