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Glasses and red scar-Chapter 6
"Area 37-B, 4 Vipers, over."
"Noted, proceed with investigation, over."
"Dororo-san, you are supposed to say over. You could say, following the rules? Over."
The other side of the sound only transmission device hang up. The room was once again quiet.
The two investigation team had gone out three hours ago to examine detailed information about the Viper's planet and their main base before we secretly attack. Everyone else stayed in the ship, including Giroro Senpai, who seemed to grow more and more impatient by the second. I wondered if he was worried about his nii-san or he just disliked being left out on the front line of the battlefield that much?
"And now we are connecting to Garuru Chui." Mois pressed some buttons on the main computer.
"Garuru Chui, how's the situation down there in area 12-C? Over."
"Everything's going according to plan," the voice of the other platoon's Taichou filled the room, "the condition of their base is just like Kururu expecte
Glasses and red scar-Chapter 4
I glanced at my plushie of Senpai. After considering and looking at it over and over again, I gave up to the desire and packed it in my bags with the rest of my stuff.
We were leaving Pekopon temporarily for a mission. The HQ back on Keron had discovered a new extremely large group of Vipers on a yet to be identified planet, and we needed to eliminate them before they became any threat to the Keronjins.
After making sure I brought everything needed, I walked down to the control room where everyone else was waiting for the departure, except for some of the members of Garuru Platoon, who were setting up for the launch of the ship.
"Hey Senpai," I sat right next to the red Keronjin who was cleaning his guns by his tent Wait, he brought his tent with him?!
He shifted his body, moving further away from me, and refused to take his eyes off his guns.
"What were you saying yesterday, Senpai?" I giggled.
"I, I don't know what you are talking about." He said quietly.
Playing dumb now, are
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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