Army Of Two -

"It’s not 'extra' ammo, it’s insurance ," Salem retorted. He checked his Aggro meter. It was blinking white. He was practically invisible, which meant the insurgents were currently pouring everything they had into Rios’s position. "Hey, Big Guy? You’re glowing like a Christmas tree. Maybe stop being so popular?"

"Do your job, Salem," Rios grumbled, his shield vibrating as a hail of 7.62 rounds slammed into it. "Flank left. Now."

The courtyard erupted in a different kind of noise—the heavy, sustained roar of a SAW. In the chaos, the Aggro shifted. The red glow bled away from Rios and settled onto Salem. Army Of Two

Tyson Rios didn't look back. He was a wall of muscle and Kevlar, hunkered down behind a rusted-out shipping container. "Because the back door involves a three-story climb, and I’m not carrying your extra ammo up a drainpipe."

"Rios, tell me again why we’re taking the front door?" Salem shouted over the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a nearby technical’s heavy machine gun. "It’s not 'extra' ammo, it’s insurance ," Salem retorted

The dust in Somalia didn’t just sit on you; it became a part of you. Elliot Salem wiped a smear of grime off his ballistic mask, the painted-on grin of the metal face-plate catching the harsh afternoon sun.

He reached the perimeter of the insurgent nest. Two men were frantically reloading, their backs to him. Salem didn't pull the trigger immediately. Instead, he keyed his comms. He was practically invisible, which meant the insurgents

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