In spite of all the things he'd seen in Gamindustri, Jack couldn't help but feel amazed by the sheer scale of the Planeptune Markets. Almost as far as the eye could see, the massive skyscraper stretched up from the ground, each floor containing all manner of stores and shops. The crowds were pretty well-populated, around the sides, so he felt like a lot of people were watching him walk through the front doors beside the large group of women that had come along for the trip: MAGES., Tekken, IF, Falcom, Nepgear, Cave, and Compa. He didn't even know Compa or IF knew any of them, besides Cave, who insisted on tagging along.
Had he accidentally made contact with each member of a secret society of some kind?
Seemingly ignorant of the looks people were giving her big male friend, Compa led the way towards a set of tables offset to the right of the entrance, with Jack following along behind them. Compa stopped next to a table, and set herself down in a chair as the others crowded round. "Alright, Mr. Lunny," she began cheerfully. "When the girls and I go shopping, normally we meet back around here once we're finished. Keep your phone handy so that we can call you if anything comes up." Jack gave a nod.
"Got it," he whistled. "Anythin' else?" Compa thought for a minute.
"Ummm..."
"Knowing you, Mr. Loondumb," IF interjected, "Your ideal place'd probably be floors one hundred to one hundred and ten. That's where they sell all kinds of stuff for fighting and dungeon-crawling, and normally where Falcom and I go." Jack grinned at her.
"Well, that's me set, then." Compa smiled up at the group in front of her.
"Great!" she beamed. "I don't really have the cash today, so if something's too big for you to carry, you can just bring it down here and I'll look after it." Falcom frowned.
"You sure, Compa?" she asked. "I can just...y'know, give you some money, if you want. I have too much of it." The nurse shook her head in response.
"I can't just take your money; You're my friend," she stated firmly. "So you go and enjoy your money. Buy yourself something nice!" Falcom looked a little disheartened by the statement, but straightened up again. It was at this point that Jack noticed she was up to his nose in height. God, she really was tall. And athletic looking...
...she could probably kick his arse if she really tried.
"Alright, guys, same as always!" Compa said cheerfully, waving. "See you back here later!" The group of women assembled said their 'Bye' lines, but immediately conglomerated into one group and headed to the elevator at the far end of the building, giggling and talking all the way into the sealed glass container. Jack followed behind as the doors closed.
"So..." he began, eyeing up the rows of buttons. "...where, uh, where are you lot goin'?" MAGES. shrugged slightly.
"I intend to visit the chemicals and ingredients markets," she replied, leaning on her cane slightly. "That starts on floor sixty."
"I'm headed to the same place as you, Loondumb," IF added, reaching into her oversized coat and pulling out her Nep-sized Beretta 92 replica, racking the slide slightly to check it had nothing in the chamber, then putting it away. "I need a new concealed carry piece. My one kind of sucks, now that I think about stopping power, and that sort of thing." She looked at him, glaring slightly. "I'd say that cannon of yours is partly to blame for that train of thought." Jack raised a brow, smirking, as he stepped away from the control panel to allow someone else to choose where the glass lift would go. Tekken timidly stepped forward, and pressed the fiftieth floor, then the one-hundredth, then finally the two-hundredth. A few eyes went wide at this. "T-Tekken?!" IF sputtered as the elevator began moving upwards. "Why're you going to the two-hundredth floor?!" Tekken shrugged.
"Well," began the grey-haired woman as she rubbed her bicep awkwardly. "I've been meaning to buy a blindfold to...help me sleep better. So...I figured...why not get one that works?" Jack looked over all the shocked facial expressions of the Neps, not counting the confused faces of Cave and Nepgear. He cleared his throat.
"What's wrong with the two-hundredth floor?" he asked. "What's up there?" Falcom stared at him flatly.
"Let's...let's just say that if you like being whipped and tied up by someone else for your own carnal desires, then you'd love the two-hundredth floor." Jack almost instantly understood, wincing.
"Oh, right..." he muttered, pacing slightly as their ride slowed, reaching the 50th floor. "One-stop bondage shop. Got it. Gonna stay away from there." As the lift doors slid open, MAGES. walked out.
"I will see you all at a later time," she stated calmly. "Until we meet again." Jack offered a small wave as the doors closer, the lift rose, and MAGES. disappeared from view. Then, he paused, and looked at Nepgear. The lilac-haired CPU Candidate was standing at the back of the lift, looking worried, so Jack put his hands in his pockets and stared at her.
"You got anythin' you're here for, Miss Nepgear?" he asked. Nepgear's response came as expected. She jumped slightly, and began looking even more worried.
"U-Um!" she whimpered. "I...I really don't know, I just saw all of you leaving the basilicom and I wanted to feel like I had people to hang out with so I followed you all and I have no idea what I'm doing here." Jack raised a brow and shrugged slightly.
"At least you're honest," he mused, scratching his chin. "You wanna come look at weapons?"
Nepgear hesitated, then nodded.
Jack glanced at Cave. "Et tu, Madame Seins Enormés?" The woman folded her arms and rolled her eyes.
"I understood that," she said flatly. "You did not call me by my name in Ancient Loweean." Jack tilted his head.
"Nah, that was French, love. Got it right, too."
"No, it was Ancient Loweean. And you don't speak it very well."
"Whatever it was, I referred to you as 'Miss Cave'. And I damn well know I did, because I force-studied every language on Earth for three months."
"You didn't."
"Then what'd I say that's got you so pissed off?"
"You called me 'Miss Huge Breasts'."
IF immediately let out a sputtering laugh as Jack stared in her in shock. "Ah, bollocks," he muttered, covering his smirk and pacing slightly. "Seems like I'm just losin' touch with languages. Awfully sorry." Cave, however, had an instant counter, as per the usual.
"One thing you don't seem to lose touch with is your perverted obsession with women's chests," she replied calmly. "In fact, you seem to find them irresistible, if I consider what your eyes seem to focus on whenever we converse." Jack dropped his arms to his sides and glared at her. For a second, his eyes looked at her chest, but then he managed to slap himself back to reality and stare at Cave angrily.
Tekken covered her chest defensively, stepping backwards. "Pervert..." she whispered, eliciting a sigh from Jack, laugh from IF, worried noises from Nepgear, and a victorious smirk from Cave.
A short while later, on the 100th floor...
Jack couldn't help but grin at the sheer amount of firepower that a single floor of the supposed tend held in store. As far as the eye could see, the entire floor of the almost convention-center sized room was stocked with stand after stand, each advertising and selling a huge variety of guns, knives, explosives, swords, axes, hammers, rocket launchers, and weaponry of all kinds. The crowds around the stalls didn't look out of place, either; Most of them were women wearing armour, helmets, or masks, and most seemed to be packing heat of some kind.
Upon exiting the elevator, IF was immediately greeted by a few people through waves and small cheers, but those died down as they saw Jack and Nepgear. Whilst he was used to such stares, these ones were...different. They weren't awe-filled. They were curious stares. It wasn't people wondering who he was, because they didn't care. All they cared about was how he carried himself, and what he was able to do.
These were Jack's kind of people.
Silently, he followed behind IF, eyeing up the stands to his left and right. "So, where're we headed?" he asked calmly, scratching his chin as oh fuck was that a magazine-fed rocket launcher he just saw
"Like I said in the elevator," IF began, glancing only slightly over her shoulder, "I need a new CC weapon. My one doesn't stop anything. So we're going to visit the sales guy I bought this one from to see what he thinks." Jack shrugged.
"Whatever..." he muttered, scratching his head as the group turned a corner at the end of an aisle of stands, then headed towards a market stall that was in the middle of the row. It had a large white-lit translucent glass back, and the words 'Gage's Guns' in thick red letters above. The back wall was covered in all kinds of weaponry, and the front desk had a sniper rifle casually balanced on it via a bipod.
All of them were tiny in comparison to Jack's weapons. Perhaps they were just built to scale for the Neps?
On the approach to this stand, Jack dropped back and looked at Cave. The redhead offered a brief glance at him, before continuing to look miserably ahead. "Oh, God, every weapon here is tiny," Jack said, regardless of if Cave was paying attention or not. "You're all very small people."
Cave just let out a huff. "You're a big guy," she replied calmly, prompting the man beside her to groan.
"Jesus Christ, we'd almost gone a week without a Bane joke, and you just had to bugger it up." He glared at her. "Fuck you, Cave. Fuck. You."
"You wish you could."
"Hey, that-!"
"That what?"
"...I'm not gonna say anythin' else to you. Thought you, of all people, could appreciate that the guns here are tiny..." he muttered, pacing ahead to keep up with IF.
"A weapon's size negatively correlates to the user's sexual organ size," Cave called after him, gaining a few looks from people nearby. "That says a lot about you, Mr. Glovebox." As she continued walking, she noticed a young man in a hoodie and gas mask that was clutching an old wooden bolt-action rifle and a bottle of Loweean Vodka, squatting next to a Planeptune Military Surplus tent. The man was staring blankly at her, so she paused and stared back at him as people continued to walk by.
"A nuuuu," began the man in a strange accent that was muffled by the shitty milsurp gasmask on his face, "Cheeki breeki, iv damke." Cave raised a brow slowly, then sighed, and shook her head as she walked away.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Karl," she began sternly. "Get out of here. Go get a job." Karl just nodded at her as she left.
"OK, I guess I'll speak to you later then, Cave," he said, taking the mask's drinking straw and dipping it into the vodka bottle in front of him.
Jack was watching the whole interaction from the nearby market stand that IF had dragged them to, and gave a slightly amused look at Cave as she moved up beside them. "Who's that?" he asked. "One of your mates?" Cave sighed, shaking her head and folding her arms as she assessed the store's wares.
"Not really," she replied. "That was just Kommando Karl. Just someone I went to the military academy with."
"You were in the army?" Jack asked, surprised. Cave nodded.
"One and a half years of intense special forces training."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Hold on, I'm pretty sure I've heard this before, somewhere."
"Out of everyone in the academy, I was the only one to make it into the RRoD," Cave continued. "However, along the way, many of my classmates began to drop out. Karl was one of them." Jack glanced back at the man in question, observing him through the crowds as he squatted in the middle of the floor.
"Well, he doesn't seem to be much different from the average /k/ommando..." he mused, scratching his beard.
"As far as I know from those who kept in contact with him, he still lives with his mother, constantly posts on the Weapons board of N-Chan, and is obsessed with ex-military weaponry and equipment."
Jack chuckled.
"Heh. Slavshit."
For a moment, they both watched as Karl put a cigarette into the filter of his gas mask, then looked back at IF. The brunette was standing in front of a man in a wheelchair as he explained to her the nuances of the different weapons laid out in front of her. Jack stepped up next to IF to listen, which, for some reason, drew the man's attention. "Well," laughed the man in a rather gravelly tone. "Miss IF. You didn't tell me you were bringin' your famous friends." He extended a hand. "Name's Gage."
Jack leaned over the desk to shake his hand. "London. Jack London."
"'Course I know who you are. Your face's all over Leanbox." He leaned back in his wheelchair, eyeing Jack up and down as IF sighed. "You're lookin' a little light on firepower, there. You storin' a pistol in a disk, or somethin'?" Jack shook his head.
"Nah, I've got about fourteen weapons stashed in my disk." Gage raised his brows in surprise.
"Fourteen?" he said in a curious way. "Hell, I sell weapons, and I don't even have that many on me at once. And all in a disk..." He stared ahead slightly, chuckling, before flicking his eyes back up at Jack. "...damn." Jack shrugged.
"At least they're concealed. Concealment's why we're here. Miss IF's lookin' fo-"
"Stop calling me 'Miss'!" IF cut in angrily. "Just 'IF' is fine! You're probably older than me, anyway, so stop using condescending language!" He looked down at her.
"How old're you?" he asked.
"Twenty three."
"I'm not even twenty, yet."
IF's jaw dropped.
"Are you being serious?" she gasped. Even Cave looked surprised.
"Well. You truly are my junior. It seems like this job has been babysitting, the whole time." Jack turned and glared at her.
"Fuck off, Cave, you're, like, fifty," he retorted sharply. "Plus, you still dress like a slutty maid. I'm damn sure I saw your fuckin' outfit in a sex shop." Gage and IF covered their grins as Cave narrowed her eyes.
"For your information," she snarled, "I'm thirty two, and this costume is something I picked out myself from one of Leanbox's top designer stores."
"Which one? Leather and Lace, or some bollocks?"
"Well, it's unfortunate to consider that regardless of what I wear, I'm fine to be seen by the other gender. Unlike you, who turns into a wallflower upon losing even a few garments of clothing." Jack jabbed a finger at her.
"Hey, fuck you, it's normal for a bloke to not like bein' seen starkers," he snapped. "And it's definitely not a good thing for you to not mind men seein' you naked either. You must be pretty bloody used to gettin' naked in front of men. You comin' along to fight through that strip club in Leanbox must've been a fuckin' homecomin', for you." Cave grit her teeth.
"The visit to the psychologist's office must have been a homecoming for you, Mr. Glovebox."
"No, it wasn't. You're fuckin' projectin', 'ere. And anyway, I think it's worth notin' that you're even here to argue with me. Because if I hadn't stepped in, you'd have been beaten and raped to kingdom come by those gangsters." Cave froze, and a look of slight disgust set over her face.
"...I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
"I was just pointin' out that I had to save your shapely arse from Russian gunmen. If I didn't, your arsehole'd be the size of a real cave."
For a moment, Cave stared at him in disbelief, and IF shared a similar look on her face. Finally, the redhead's expression hardened. "Mr. Glovebox, I'd appreciate it if you kept your little comments to yourself, and kept my past out of this."
"Or what?" he shot back. "What the fuck are you gonna do? Huh? Tell the CPUs I'm actin' out of line? I'm on a fuckin' vacation, and by fuck, if I get told I have to enjoy it, I'll talk shit all I want because that's what I enjoy. So what the fuck are you gonna do? Stop me 'enjoyin' my vacation'?"
"What I will do, Mr. Glovebox, is use an electrical attack on you with a power of fifty thousand volts. It'll knock you to the floor, and you'll just lie there wetting yourself. And you can be sure I won't pick you up. So I suggest you stop trying to act the big man, or all the people around us will get to watch you writhing in pain." Jack glared at her, leaning forward.
"I'd like to see you try, you silly cunt: I'll put you in the fuckin' ground." Cave leaned forward as well, glaring even harder at him.
Before the argument could come to blows, IF cleared her throat. "If you two could keep your lovers' quarrel on a leash, I'm trying to buy a gun, here." Jack and Cave stared at each other even more, before straightening up. Jack immediately turned, and began walking away.
"I'm goin' to the toilet," he said firmly. "And then I'm goin' back to the basilicom. You can fuck this 'day out' shite if that bitch is gonna be followin' me around." Cave just folded her arms.
"I'll contact the CPUs and say that I refuse to follow you, anymore. This level of abuse is unacceptable." Jack just gave her the finger as he walked away.
"I wish those mobsters'd killed you back in Leanbox!" he called out, disappearing through a nearby doorway that led to the bathrooms. Cave rubbed her face and sighed, turning back to IF.
"Are..." IF coughed. "Are you alright, Cave...?" Cave slowly nodded.
"Yes...I'm fine. I can only hope Mr. Glovebox is beaten to near death at some point soon." IF rocked her head side to side.
"Liiiittle bit extreme, Cave, but whatever."
Just as they turned back to the stand, there was the sudden sound of a burst of full-auto fire, and people screaming.
Meanwhile, in the tunnels leading to the men's bathrooms...
Jack was still muttering to himself as he pissed. The bathroom, being the men's room, was completely void of people. That 'Karl' guy and Gage were the only men he'd seen, so he didn't understand why there was such a large bathroom...
Ah, well.
He'd decided to go to the far end of the room and use the urinal there. Basic men's law: Don't use the middle urinal. That's just fucking weird.
As he pissed, he thought back over everything he'd said to Cave, and sighed.
She was just doing her job...why was he being so mean to her? He used to get on with her. What changed? She was actually pretty nice. She helped him during the nightclub incident, and she ended up hospitalized because he'd been an idiot.
"...agh." he groaned, zipping his trousers up and turning to the sinks so that he could wash his hands. "I'm gonna have to apologize, aren't I...?" Whilst he cleaned himself up, he considered exactly how the hell he could apologize for being THAT much of an arsehole.
As he finished washing his hands, he pulled out his N-Gear and pulled up Cave's texts, leaving the sink to fill up so that he could wash his face.
You: Holy shit.
Caverino: Anyway, that's how I lost my driving license.
You: Oh, you absolute madwoman.
Caverino: I know.
You: Also, question. Do I still owe you that massage?
Caverino: Yes. I'm sure you can't wait to get your hands on my firm rear, broad back, ample chest, and powerful legs.
You: stop
Caverino: I am only teasing. Though it seems likely that you would be interested in kneading the tension from my muscular body and listening to my moans of pleasure as the sensations run through my body.
You: cave no
Jack sighed.
They really did get on well. Why was he being an arse to her?
Thinking carefully, he began texting her his apology, deciding to step inside a stall so that he wouldn't look as awkward standing around in a men's toilet, texting a girl. He sat down on the small seat, and locked the door. For a few minutes, there was silence.
Just then, the door to the bathroom on the opposite end of the room creaked open, and the sound of two heavy sets of footsteps resounded around the tiled room. It seemed like they were pacing...
Wait.
That pacing was the one that they'd been taught in training; The tactical advance. It had a very specific sound to it; Heel toe, rapid. Two individuals.
Maybe he was just confused. Maybe someone was walking like that anyway.
Suddenly, down the bathroom, there came the sound of a loud bang as a cubicle door was kicked from its hinges.
"Clear!" yelled a loud, slightly garbled German voice.
A few seconds later, this repeated, but louder, as it got closer.
Jack got onto his feet quietly and put his N-Gear away, looking around for an escape.
Up above, there was a large air vent. Perfect.
Bang
"Clear!"
As quietly and quickly as he could, Jack clambered onto the toilet seat and pushed the vent out of place.
Bang
"Clear!"
For a few seconds, Jack struggled, but finally got halfway into the vent.
Bang
"Clear!"
He replaced the vent cover just as the door below him literally flew from its hinges and smashed onto the toilet. He was finally able to see the perpetrator.
Below him was a man in a full set of tactical gear, wielding a modified G36 and wearing a full helmet and balaclava. On his sleeve was the emblem of the KSK Special Forces unit.
'Fuck me,' Jack thought. 'What the hell is he doing here?!'
"Clear!" the German yelled, before stepping out of view. The sound of a radio rang out. "Sir, this is Sergeant Gruber. Men's bathrooms are clear. Women's bathrooms contained three hostages. I have sent Private Götson to take them to the main floor. Over." There was a hesitation.
"EXCELLENT!" the voice on the radio replied. That one was pretty fucking Russian. "Keep Juarez in the bathrooms so he can keep it clear. Don't want any stragglers trying to escape. You, get your ass up here."
"Copy that, on my way," 'Gruber' replied, beginning to leave the room. "Juarez, you stay here."
"Gotcha," came the response. That one sounded Colombian. Maybe Mexican. After a few seconds, the door closed on the opposite end of the room, and the sound of casual pacing could be heard.
'Right, his guard's down. Time to strike.'
Silently, Jack lifted the cover from the vent, and peered around the bathroom again. On the other side of the room, patrolling near the sinks, there was a Mexican man in an ill-fitting polo shirt, aviator sunglasses and jeans, clutching a MAC-10 with a suppressor. He looked to have been about thirty. Probably a cartel member, by the looks of it. The man hesitated briefly, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of earbuds. He stuck them into his ear and pressed play on them.
Jack just hoped the guy had gotten rusty since his training.
Spinning around to drop down the hole, Jack lowered himself stealthily onto the tiled floor, and crouch walked to the small wall between the sinks and cubicles. Thankfully, Juarez didn't hear him. As far as Jack knew, the headphones could've been a trick, and he was actually listening for people not being careful.
As he stealthily approached, Jack was making a decision.
To kill, or not to kill?
Considering that he was with the KSK guy, and the KSK guy mentioned 'hostages', and there was Russians involved, Jack decided to go for 'kill'.
He swept low beside the corner of the wall, near a sink. Juarez began approaching from his left. As soon as he idly wandered past, Jack moved.
He sprang forwards, grabbing the man's gun and wrenching it from his hands whilst delivering a powerful kick to the man's ribs. As he recoiled, Jack got a better grip on the MAC-10, attempting to bring it to bear on his opponent.
Juarez reacted fast; He yelled angrily, and converted his momentum into a right jab that connected with Jack's face, then followed up with a knee to the stomach and an uppercut to his jaw.
Jack staggered backwards in pain, dropping the gun. He bumped into one of the walls between the cubicles, but was quick to step forward again with his fists raised, eyes on his opponent. Juarez quickly pulled out his earbuds, taking up a boxer's stance. "Let's go, you little puta," snarled the man. Jack narrowed his eyes.
"Bring it, cunt."
Vasquez stepped forward quickly, taking the initiative with a powerful but sloppy left hook. Jack sidestepped the shambling attack, and as his opponent passed, raised his knee into Juarez's face. The Hispanic man let out a cry of pain, his head snapping backwards as he clutched his nose and backed off. Blood seeped between his fingers. He moved his hand to check on his hand.
Bad move.
In a flash, Jack was upon him with his combat knife drawn upside-down, delivering a rapid slice to the man's stomach, then following up with a stab through the shoulder. Before he could scream in pain, Jack barged into him and slammed him against the mirror, pinning his arms behind his back. Making sure to keep the pressure up, Jack didn't relent, slamming Juarez's face into the mirror as hard as he could, cracking the glass.
The man's glasses fell off his face as Jack grabbed his medium length hair, yanking his head back. "Who the fuck are you, and why're you takin' hostages?" he demanded. Juarez was breathing heavily, but managed to release a breathless 'Fuck you'. "Wrong answer!" Jack snapped, before smashing his face into the mirror again and throwing him into a sink. The porcelain appliance simply gave way under the man's weight, causing the pipes beneath to begin spraying water up in a powerful jet and spray its contents all over the room.
Juarez lay on the floor groaning, coughing from the force of being winded, bleeding from his stomach, and sniffing through a broken nose. The man began to pick himself up but was quickly kicked onto his back. Jack delivered a punch to the face, before reaching down and using his knife to cut straight down the middle of his shirt.
Then, he ripped it off Juarez's torso, and stepped back.
The Hispanic man coughed, shakily rolling onto his front and attempting to pick himself up again. Before he could actually get into a standing position, Jack had taken his shirt and stretched the fabric over his face. His screams were muffled slightly by the thin fabric, but Jack kept it up, manhandling Juarez over to the water pipe that was letting loose a powerful jet of water. Once he was there, Jack kicked the back of Juarez's knees, and pinned his arms behind his back.
"And here I was, thinkin' you knew how to put up a fight!" he snarled into Juarez's ear. "Now, you've got one chance to tell me what the hell you're doin' here, or you get to go boardin' and not come back." Juarez shivered, and hissed through the rag.
"Fuck...you..."
Jack shrugged. "Ah, well."
He slammed Juarez's forehead against the tiled wall with a sickening crack, before holding his face directly over the powerful stream of water. The liquid splashed all over the rag as if it were being poured on him, and Juarez began violently thrashing and emitting garbled screams for help and mercy through the torture.
Jack remained steadfast, his face stone-cold as he listened to the man's lungs filling with water.
After two solid minutes of Juarez sputtering and spasming beneath him, the man finally lay still with one final twitch, going completely limp. Holding him there for another minute, Jack finally let him go, but placed his head on the pipe as added insurance. He stood up, and stepped back from the body, looking around.
One broken mirror, a destroyed sink, one dead Mexican, and his ego hurt from when Juarez hit him. He was pretty sure he'd chipped a tooth.
Sighing, and scratching his head, Jack considered his predicament.
There was a hostage situation in the building. The KSK (He remembered a whole squad of them jn training) was working with Russians, and probably the cartel members that had been drafted in for training. Those were only three of the groups that he knew of; There were probably more. There were over 200 floors of the market building, and they said they had hostages. They wouldn't have been able to take the whole building, no matter what, so he was probably looking at a force of a few dozen guys, all as equally-trained as him, and probably a few hundred hostages.
He paused.
Fuck.
The girls were out there.
Jack grit his teeth, and narrowed his eyes, sweeping up Juarez's MAC-10 and beginning to root through his pockets.
A grenade, a Colt .25 pocket pistol, and a radio.
Securing these, he turned to leave, but noticed something on the sink.
Lying there in near perfect condition were Juarez's aviator sunglasses.
Jack grinned, picking them up and putting them on as he left the bathroom.
They'd attacked Planeptune.
They'd betrayed the programme they'd been signed up for so they could commit crimes.
There were innocent people in the building.
He had just waterboarded a Mexican so effectively, Guantanamo Bay would've raised brows.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon, he was carrying fifteen weapons, and a whole host of women were held captive behind a fuckload of well-armed enemies.
These odds were fucking ridiculous, and that's the way he liked it.
He violently booted the door open that led back into the marketplace, drawing the attention of the soldiers that were patrolling the area. Instantly, he had a sea of guns pointed at him.
He grinned, pulling out his shotgun and racking the pump.
"Let's rock."