Mel

“If I'm not supposed to be awake, why are you here?" I mumbled.
"To be the little spoon.”
― Karen Chance, Fury's Kiss

“Generally ‘training’ went something akin to this:
“So what you have to do is—“
Shoot you in the fucking head with your own gun because it would be painfully easy to disarm you with the way you’re holding that weapon.
“Understand?”
Sin stared at the man blankly before raising his own weapon and unloading his entire clip into the paper target. He didn’t speak and didn’t even look at where he was shooting before placing the standard issued gun in front of him as he watched his ‘trainer’ expectantly.
The man, whose name he had not bothered to pay attention to, gave him a strange look and examined the target as it slid closer to them from across the range. His expression became incredulous as he took in the completely obliterated ‘head’ and he turned on Sin with a frown. “You killed it.”
“Yes.”
“You were only supposed to immobilize it…”
“Oh.”
Fucking civilians.”
― Santino (Sonny) Hassell, Evenfall

“Vadim swallowed, felt his throat too tight to move, then, still staring at the bottle, smelling the desert and Dan, and himself, his hand reached to his side, opened the holster of the pistol. Took out the mag, took the bullet from the chamber, clicked the mag in place again, rolled the bullet between his fingers.

He looked at Dan, sideways, saw the man stare at him, all eyes, dark eyes, and the way the pale desert moon made his face a place of shadows.

He reached for Dan’s hand, opened the fingers and placed the bullet into the palm.

“This is the bullet you’ll use to kill me if I walk away again.” Because if I walk away again, I’ll be in so much pain I’m better off dead anyway.”
― Aleksandr Voinov, Special Forces - Mercenaries Part I

“Opening the door, he nearly did a double take into the mirror behind
him.
Hooch. Hooch, pushing his shades back up onto his head, and re-shouldering the bergan. Hooch, standing in the doorway.
“Been thinking.”
Two words, more than usual.
“Been around a bit.”
Six, speech worthy of a national holiday.
“Looking for a station now.”
Eleven, whole fucking fireworks.
"Central station.”
Thirteen, and the heavens came down for Matt.
“You still offering?”
Sixteen, and the world stopped spinning.
Matt stood thinking for a while, not a muscle in his face twitched. Then
stepped aside, gestured the other man to follow him. Closed the door.
“One condition.”
Hooch’s brows rose for a split second.
Matt broke into a grin at last, which threatened to split his face. “Promise
not to talk too much.”
― Marquesate, Special Forces