"My man," Bobby said as Buck provided him cover fire.

He had the Pig loaded up and ready. Jack Johnson is what he called it. It was big, black, and it knocked motherfuckers the fuck out. With the belt properly fed, Bobby waited until the rest of the rifles were reloading before he broke out the covering fire into the bush. His ears were still ringing from the crash, but that felt like a month ago thanks to Charlie's bullshit. Buck had his back, popping off the shotty while another grenade exploded and sent those dinky dau motherfuckers running for it.