growled Simmo, frowning like an eyebrow avalanche, ‘Mrs Spud, as well as cooking fine fish and chips in canteen and always giving The Sergeant his daily feed for free, also gives damn fine good blow job at no extra cost. There no feeling on this world that her false teeth not conjure, so don’t you fucking be disrespecting Mrs Spud or The Sergeant be very angry man!’ His voice had risen to a roar.
Mongrel was looking down, kicking his size thirteen polished boots against the bottom of the counter, guiltily. ‘Sorry, Sarge,’ he muttered. ‘Really, really - sorry.’
Simmo deflated a little as Jam pushed Mongrel out of the way with a tut and slapped his hand on the counter. He beamed up at Sgt Simmo with the sort of insane wide-faced innocence that had deceived many enemies and sent them to their graves.
‘Hi there, Simmo old buddy,’ said Jam. ‘Listen.’ He leaned in close, much to the obvious distaste of Simmo. ‘This - um - Mrs Spud ...’
‘Yes?’
‘You and her - you a bit of an item then, or what?’
Simmo stared at Jam with eyes that had watched one thousand, four hundred and seventy-two men scream at the point of death.
‘Yes,’ he rumbled. ‘That a problem for you?’
‘No no no!’ Jam beamed. ‘Listen, hey man, it’s your choice, she has a fine set of, um, cheeks, I’m sure, and those muscles in her square jaw surely must mean that she does what you said earlier, give a man a good BJ, and I’m sure that when she sits on your fucking face and pisses it gives you a happy warm glow inside - but hey, I need some fucking ammo and our Comanche leaves in five fucking minutes. So be a good lad, and open the fucking gate.’
Jam grinned up at Simmo.
Simmo’s fists had clenched. Then he relaxed, deflating once more, and leered at Jam with teeth that had stripped the flesh from a dead comrade’s thighs to keep a battle-weary Simmo from starving in the field. He laughed then, an explosion of rattling sound like bones in a tin can, which only confirmed in Jam’s mind that The Sergeant was not used to laughing.
Simmo hit the buzzer, there was - predictably - a buzz and the huge iron gate behind him unlocked.
‘Thank you,’ said Jam, checking his watch.
‘I know you only fuck with The Sergeant.’ The huge soldier grinned and as Jam strode past a hand the size of a shovel slapped him on the back, nearly sending his face through the iron gate.
Jam coughed, and forced a laugh.
‘Yeah, just fucking with you.’
Sgt Simmo frowned. ‘You have three minutes. Get what you need and return here for the paperwork.’
‘Will do.’
Mongrel followed Jam through the gate and into a wide strip-lit corridor that led on for as far as the eye could see. Doors and gates opened off this central corridor, feeding into hangars and testing stations, into firing ranges and mock terrorist positions; into stores filled with everything from 9mm clips to torpedoes and tank shells.
They headed for the ammunition warehouse, but on the way Jam suddenly stopped at an unmarked door. ‘Hey, Mongrel, come take a look at this.’ Jam pointed at the unmarked military-green door, which looked just like so many of the other military-green doors.
‘I do not think we should,’ said Mongrel uneasily.
‘Come on, don’t be a pussy!’
‘Simmo might be watching,’ whispered Mongrel.
‘Fuck him!’
‘Shh! He might hear!’
‘Ahh, fuck him. Come on, you need to see this ...’ And Jam was already pushing open the green portal leading into a monumental underground chamber with a dirty stone floor and bare rocky walls stretching off into the distance. The lights were dim, and Mongrel squinted in the gloom as the door slammed shut behind him. A heavy boom echoed through the chamber, making Mongrel jump.
‘What is it?’
‘Over here,’ said Jam, heading off across the dust. Mongrel followed, frowning. He could see nothing and such a huge chamber would not normally be wasted on empty space. Spiral never wasted
Mongrel was looking down, kicking his size thirteen polished boots against the bottom of the counter, guiltily. ‘Sorry, Sarge,’ he muttered. ‘Really, really - sorry.’
Simmo deflated a little as Jam pushed Mongrel out of the way with a tut and slapped his hand on the counter. He beamed up at Sgt Simmo with the sort of insane wide-faced innocence that had deceived many enemies and sent them to their graves.
‘Hi there, Simmo old buddy,’ said Jam. ‘Listen.’ He leaned in close, much to the obvious distaste of Simmo. ‘This - um - Mrs Spud ...’
‘Yes?’
‘You and her - you a bit of an item then, or what?’
Simmo stared at Jam with eyes that had watched one thousand, four hundred and seventy-two men scream at the point of death.
‘Yes,’ he rumbled. ‘That a problem for you?’
‘No no no!’ Jam beamed. ‘Listen, hey man, it’s your choice, she has a fine set of, um, cheeks, I’m sure, and those muscles in her square jaw surely must mean that she does what you said earlier, give a man a good BJ, and I’m sure that when she sits on your fucking face and pisses it gives you a happy warm glow inside - but hey, I need some fucking ammo and our Comanche leaves in five fucking minutes. So be a good lad, and open the fucking gate.’
Jam grinned up at Simmo.
Simmo’s fists had clenched. Then he relaxed, deflating once more, and leered at Jam with teeth that had stripped the flesh from a dead comrade’s thighs to keep a battle-weary Simmo from starving in the field. He laughed then, an explosion of rattling sound like bones in a tin can, which only confirmed in Jam’s mind that The Sergeant was not used to laughing.
Simmo hit the buzzer, there was - predictably - a buzz and the huge iron gate behind him unlocked.
‘Thank you,’ said Jam, checking his watch.
‘I know you only fuck with The Sergeant.’ The huge soldier grinned and as Jam strode past a hand the size of a shovel slapped him on the back, nearly sending his face through the iron gate.
Jam coughed, and forced a laugh.
‘Yeah, just fucking with you.’
Sgt Simmo frowned. ‘You have three minutes. Get what you need and return here for the paperwork.’
‘Will do.’
Mongrel followed Jam through the gate and into a wide strip-lit corridor that led on for as far as the eye could see. Doors and gates opened off this central corridor, feeding into hangars and testing stations, into firing ranges and mock terrorist positions; into stores filled with everything from 9mm clips to torpedoes and tank shells.
They headed for the ammunition warehouse, but on the way Jam suddenly stopped at an unmarked door. ‘Hey, Mongrel, come take a look at this.’ Jam pointed at the unmarked military-green door, which looked just like so many of the other military-green doors.
‘I do not think we should,’ said Mongrel uneasily.
‘Come on, don’t be a pussy!’
‘Simmo might be watching,’ whispered Mongrel.
‘Fuck him!’
‘Shh! He might hear!’
‘Ahh, fuck him. Come on, you need to see this ...’ And Jam was already pushing open the green portal leading into a monumental underground chamber with a dirty stone floor and bare rocky walls stretching off into the distance. The lights were dim, and Mongrel squinted in the gloom as the door slammed shut behind him. A heavy boom echoed through the chamber, making Mongrel jump.
‘What is it?’
‘Over here,’ said Jam, heading off across the dust. Mongrel followed, frowning. He could see nothing and such a huge chamber would not normally be wasted on empty space. Spiral never wasted
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