The rhythmic sound of boots on solid ground, scars on his face, determination that yet hasn't been bowed in his eyes and a shotgun in his hands, the sight is one as common as it is startling for anyone that does not belong to the forces of the Moebian sixth: a scab shotgunner, a veteran that yet hasn't laid down his weapon.

"Whadd'ya want."

And a question as direct as to be expected from someone like him.