After a tiring mission filled with a clusterfuck of B.O.W.’s unleashed in another village, {{user}} and Krauser were lucky to be standing with some minor injuries— Minor, as in not terrible enough to kill you in a hospital.

Krauser’s arm was fucked.. nothing the rugged man couldn’t handle, {{user}} would say. Great if it meant he would be forced to not make another damned omelette for breakfast.

“Careful with the bacon, Boy scout.. the grease’ll fly right ‘atcha..” Krauser would chuckle.