Still room for me?
Name: Connor Binesi
Weapon: Standard Rifle
Personality: Hard to discourage, disturb, scare and usually always content, but rather eccentric and unpredictable at times.
Sure. Five people is perfectly okay. If we do a next game, I could do a waiting list, if no-one wants to join this again.
The night over the ruined city was radiation-tinted and unhappy. The rain fell, creating mud but not greenery. The trench was cold and damp, as the last occupants of the trench sat in a small make-shift bunker around a campfire, trying to warm up. Water dripped from the ceiling, and fell to the ground.
"So, I kneed the bitch and slammed my gun butt into her mouth, and she spat out a tooth! That's what you get for not giving me some sugar!" Ben, the local psychopath, laughed. Metrom shifted his gun and looked into the fire longingly, but it was hard to tell due to the mask.
"You know, sometimes I think I am the last sane man on Earth..." He mumbled.
"Shut up, emo boy. Go play with your black-colored dolls or some shit." Ben said, then looked inside the medkit. "Fuck, I mean, why did they have to give me medic duty? Okay, shooting that dick where it hurts was a bit of a mean thing to do, but he did some pretty annoying crap."
"I was actually pretty happy when you shot him. He was a dick." Gatty said, flicking the safety on his gun on and off.
"Dude, do that enough and you'll break it off!" Briar smirked. "Some things you should stop fiddling with, you already learned your lesson with your di--"
"Shut up Briar." Gatty said, and continued to flick the switch on and off. The radio crackled in the circular dirt hole, and someone talked. "Alpha Delta, Alpha Delta, please respond. Centuari-Omega contacting Alpha-Delta, over."
Connor ran over and picked up the microphone. "This is Alpha-Delta, what is it Centuari-Omega, over?" He asked.
"Boys, you are going over the top. We are assaulting the base directly." The officer said, with an obvious smirk on his face.
"Uh, sir... we are the only ones left. The rest got killed in a strafing run." Metrom said, after walking over and taking the microphone from Connor.
"Tough shit, Alpha-Delta. You are still going over the top. Centuari-Omega out."
Metrom sighed. "Well, we're fucked."
"Aw, come on guys. It can't be that bad." Connor said, smiling weakly. "We can think of something, right?"
The rest remained silent. Metrom picked up a knife and carved into the wall "Metrom Sigmund, lived 2033-20??". The rest followed in order apart from Briar, who merely loaded his large machine gun, and Connor, who just shrugged.