(If I cant post yet, please forgive me.)
Beads of sweat irritated him as they tickled the very top of his forehead, and his arm muscles burned everytime he went down. Sex was always a wild ride for him, which usually left him and the woman exhausted afterward. Thankfully, this wasn't such an occasion. Ran and a few other Sergeant Grades were in a circle, betting on how many push-ups could be done.
"Comeon, you fucking pussy! Work those fucking arms!" One of the upper Sergeants shouted into his ear, reminding him of his late guardian. Such a thought, and such motivation, inspired him on to beat the other Sub Sergeant he was competing against by thirty three pushups: a new company record of 410 in one and a half minutes. "Motherfuckers. Motherfucking assholes" Ran swore through a toothy grin and a light chuckle, accepting the money from each of the NCOs, who were undoubtedly disappointed at this.
"So what do you think we've been called for on this ship, Sub Sergeant?" One of the Soldier 2nd Class asked, heaving a heavy box from the supply room to the kitchen, getting back to work. "Fuck if I know" Ran's voice seemed to boom toward the lower-ranking, but still experienced, Soldier. "Now get that food to the kitchen upstairs. I'd like some food later on tonight." Being Space Marines, they were treated like shit. And this particular group was the worst-behaved, and thus were relegated to grunt work. "I might just have your sister to eat tonight" Despite the simplicity of this insult, the remaining Sergeants howled with laughter towards the poor Soldier 2nd Class, who flipped Ran the bird.
At that moment, a Master Soldier dashed into the room, knocking the Soldier 2nd Class over, as well as the food he carried, which ellicited a single "FUCK!!!" from all of the Space Marines working in the supply room. "We're goin' to war, motherfuckers!" The Master Soldier said, not bothering to hide his southern accent. "Pack your rifles, boys! We're gonna pop this Master Soldier's Combat Cherry!" Ran shouted, cheering with the rest of the men in the supply depot. They were crazy. But as Space Marines, they had to be. They treated each other like shit, but loved each other like brothers do. With grimey hands would they crawl through the muck and dirt and spit and sweat and blood and grime and gore of combat.