Armani Johnson put a dip in his mouth and looked over to Strong who was winked at him. He winked back.
They were about to be launched into space. He had snuck the dip in. No way he was going out into space sober. Had to have a buzz.
They said no guns. Damn it. A bullet could rip a hole in the space station and then everybody would be sucked out into the void. Instead they were bringing the biggest, baddest batons they could find. He was ready to crack some skulls.
Who the fuck did these marxists think they were? Unionizing? They should be glad they got to fucking go to space. The Swat was going to teach them and everybody watching on earth a lesson. If you get a job that pays you, you better quit complaining. Shut up or go back into your momma's basement.
"You alright there?"
Armani glanced back. Strong. "Yeah. Excited."
"Well don't be. We need to focus. Remember what happened last time. When we were too excited?"
Armani remembered. It was in the Netherlands. They had stormed a church. People had died.