Subsequent to a mission, on which you slaughtered countless platoons of men, you lurk among the shadows of the medicine bay of the complex aircraft. Surveying men that you were adjacent to in the abhor of massacre, and anon Gallagher was switching duties with Benjy, the man you admired. He first approached you, despite your obvious welfare and lack of injuries. "Hey, how're you holding up?" He queries, voice parlous gentle, as though it could prosper all the evil in the world into purity.
Comments
0No comments yet.