Ferb Fletcher

“Harvey finished his walk and reached the door of his little house, but instead of using the front door, he opened the garage and looked at his own motorcycle, remembering what Julios had told him about his Royal Enfield. Harvey smiled as he ran his hands across the seat; he knew the strength of feelings a man has for his motorcycle. Harvey pulled his helmet from the hook and removed it from the black cotton bag. Within two minutes he was cruising along the narrow country lanes that led into Chigwell. His plain white shirt flapped in the wind and the cold air stung the skin on his arms like a burn. He was alive.”
― J.D. Weston, Stone Cold

“All the organs went into separate bowls, leaving me panting and sweating. My physique was not ideal for a dissection, or, rather, I did not have the figure of a butcher. By now, my apron had taken on the function of a hothouse, and my hands inside my gloves felt like slippery fish.”
― Annelie Wendeberg, The Devil's Grin

“It’s true. We worked him before we came in here.” He turned and walked toward me and smiled. “He caved quickly. Of course, he pinned it all on you.” “Bullshit,” I said. “There’s nothing to pin. Bear… Logan wouldn’t give in that quick even if there was.”
― L.T. Ryan, Noble Beginnings

“Yes, Camp Vrede.” It was one of the deadliest incidents in the alliance’s fight for peace. The large base was located near the Kuwait, Iraq and Saudi Arabia tri-border, its presence there sanctioned by the three countries, which welcomed its assistance in maintaining the area’s stability. The attack, by insurgents who opposed the alliance’s presence in the region, came in the middle of a heavy desert storm, and the number of dead and injured was high. Donovan remembered the incident clearly, USFID had been one of the agencies put on alert following it. “The United States lost people there, too,” he said. “Fifty-nine were killed there that day.”
― A. Claire Everward, Oracle's Diplomacy