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my shoulder, "If it were not for you're keen instincts, we'd be skipping through the gulag cutscene right about now." My blush intensifies to the point where one might have confused it for a mild sunburn. I feel small droplets of sweat run along my back and down into my southern hemisphere, mimicking the conditions of wet womanhood.

It was then that a certain sensation made itself known to me. Some might call it the '6th sense' (in general not the Shyamalan film) or 'Spidey Sense ™️' in the case of the late and great Stan Lee. Whatever it was it directed my vision upwards. I threw my last thermite grenade and watched as two flaming bodies ran off the roof, only to be clipped by Lancelot as they made their futile escape. "Brilliant thinking my boy" he says gripping

grass and before we knew it we were in full out war. Lancelot and I ran against the walls to cut off their line of sight and we made our way to the opposite ends of the structure. "Stick to me" he whispered, "I would stick on you and in you my captain" my brain blurted out. Lancelot peeked around the corner as I watched from behind to cover his six.