"Where's Ved? Why hasn't he come back yet? Does anyone know where he went?"
On a modified off-road vehicle sat several burly men, each towering over six feet with shoulders spanning more than fifty centimeters. The cramped space was filled with the strong acidic smell of sweat.
A cursory glance revealed that each of the brawny men had knives at their waists—M9s with gray titanium blades and double-sided blood grooves, menacingly sharp. There were also Ontario Sabres, Tridents, Master Trackers...
The gear wasn't uniform, ranging from machetes to bayonets to tactical knives, but they were all standard-issue weapons in service. Protruding from the black backpacks at their feet were the dark barrels of guns.
They were undeniably a gang of ruffians, but the casual sitting postures of each man made the atmosphere in the room a bit more relaxed.
The mission was complete, and they would soon be leaving the barren wilderness devoid of any entertainment. Everyone seemed happy.
