Orc Tyrant

Sindura's forehead was pressed against the cold metal.

He closed his eyes, trying to relieve his headache by pressing his skin against the edge of the turret hatch.

He could hear voices coming from somewhere outside the tank, getting louder and louder.

He ignored them.

Many occupants don't like to stay in their tanks for too long, but Sindura found that his tank is more comfortable and safe, and the Shield Guardian heavy tank is extremely reassuring in appearance and inwardness.

He named her ‘’Silent’’ after a battle he was not sure if anyone remembered it.

He likes to stay in her whether it is when the ignition is running or when the engine is turned off as it is now.

This is his country, where everything is in order.

When he has a headache, he just wants to stay here.

His voice became louder and louder, and angry words flowed into the tank from the open hatch above him.

Don't be at this time!

He cursed inside, not when he had a headache.

He exhaled and tried his best to ignore the voice.

"You have to pay."

A female voice said, her voice was very high, with a bit of grumbling.

He recognized the voice, of course.

"This is more than I can pay--"

Another voice said, a male voice, with a nasal voice, and a little pleading.

"I really can't afford it, look at—"

The voice was suddenly interrupted.

"Also, Lieutenant, sir."

The female voice said, Sindura could hear her enjoying it.

"It's all you asked for. Besides, you can't afford to try it."

Another voice sounded, a male voice, roaring like a wave scouring the cliffside rocks, but the voice was too low for Sindura to hear.

But it doesn't matter, he doesn't need to hear clearly what the other person is saying to know what he is going to do.

The big driver is doing physical work, of course.

Soon, a stammering shout came into the cabin door, probably because of a broken tooth.

Sindura closed his eyes tighter, he just wanted them to shut up.

The headache is like a ball in his head, pressing behind his eyes, and illegal drugs usually bring such sequelae.

But he can't do without them.

When he escaped from the **** of Arkham, he couldn't do without the red, green, and powdery cuties anymore, without them he couldn't even sleep.

Without them, Oak’s roar would continue to reverberate in his ear canal...

"What about now? Lieutenant, sir."

The woman said slowly, and Sindura could hear her smiling.

"I can't pay...I—"

There was another sharp yell, and something hit the tank shell.

After a moment of silence, there was a man's roar, mixed with wet, heavy breathing.

That's enough!

He had a headache, opened his eyes and blinked to dispel the blue and pink stains flying in front of him.

He got up and grabbed the outer ring of the hatch with both hands and pulled himself out of the tank.

When he jumped on the track and on the ground, they all turned to look at him.

Hundreds of silent behemoths of steel are lined up in all directions, and the body is covered with a dust cover.

Every 100 meters, there is a lighting ball with dark yellow light to dilute the surrounding darkness.

Sindura took a deep breath and looked down at the man curled up on the ground. His blood splashed on the ground and he was covering his bleeding mouth and nose with his hands.

He could see his rank braid hanging from the uniform of the 985th regiment.

"enough."

Sindura's mouth was very dry, and his head still hurt as if something was burning in it, so he knew he must look like he had just rubbed the machine pedal.

Dust and oil covered him, making his healed wounds obscured, and staining his smiling skull tattoo.

He licked his lips and looked at his gunner.

The big guy dropped his eyes and rubbed his chin.

The woman in the low-cut gray dress wanted to say something, but Burrell turned her head to look at her, and the prostitute with a sharp expression immediately took a step back, lowered and opened her hands in a soothing gesture.

Sindura hummed, looked back at the lieutenant who was still whimpering on the ground, walked forward and squatted down.

He recognizes this person now.

Commander of the 12th Squadron, Yadu.

"Yadu, right?"

Sindura said with a smile.

"Ahem..."

Yadu raised his head, the lower part of his face was still bloody, his nose was flattened, and a hole could be seen in the middle of his teeth.

He was panting and nodded.

Sindura smiled at him, trying not to let his headache affect his expression.

"The problem is, Lieutenant, you don't seem to understand what debt is."

Sindura paused, blinking with a headache.

"I didn't take your IOU, but unfortunately, you owe money as if you owe this lady, so before they continue, I want to know how much you owe and if you can pay it back."

Behind him, the prostitute wanted to say something.

Sindura raised a hand and she stopped.

He smiled at Yadu again, the lieutenant did not move, and took a breath from his broken teeth.

"Six hundred..."

Sindura replied in a low voice, changing his breath as he spoke.

"Six hundred?"

Sindura forced a smile, trying to avoid closing his eyes because of the headache.

It has never been so bad since Arkham escaped.

He turned to the prostitute, she was just one of his many profit tools.

"You just do it for six hundred yuan?"

"he--"

She was about to speak again, but Sindura raised a finger.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Can you afford it?"

He turned to ask Yadu.

"Can not afford."

The young man replied only panting.

Sindura nodded, still closing his eyes.

Six hundred yuan is not a big number, but most of the people who come to him are facing some problems, which cannot be measured by the income level of the average person.

They are a group of forgotten soldiers on a forgotten land. Oak on the other side of the river is a kind of pressure for everyone. Frequent assembly, mobilization, and patrol make everyone exhausted to the extreme. During the rainy season, the fortifications are wet every day.

Everyone is tired and has accumulated a lot of stress.

So, between the billions of ammunition and the increasingly corrupt reserves, there are some that soldiers will want to buy with money-stimulants, painkillers, better food, and those that can create dreams or It is something that makes people forget, or a tender body.

After a while, they had enough money to provide the soldiers with almost anything they wanted.

They saved the money silently and continued to work efficiently.

The war never came back to find them, even after the recent rumors of the pale tyrant arrived.

Sindura was not worried, he and his crew would not go back to fight—at least not for the time being.

The flood season has arrived, and Oak is no longer a threat.

"Mr?"

Disturbed by a low whisper, Sindura opened his eyes.