Six was never the same after the war. The metallic clang of a dumpster closing and a garbage truck in the morning would bring him back to the enemy tanks running over innocent houses and villages whilst he and his surviving mates hid cowering in the bushes waiting for the metallic monstrosities to pass. Praying the next cannon fire would not be in their direction. They held their breath and eyes as the whirring roar of the machine went away.
Seven had been seeing Six about his trauma for years and in all his years of therapy had never encountered such a severe case of PTSD. He tried to get Six to go back to those moments so he could confront and overcome them but many sessions would end with Six screaming in the fetal position on the couch. Seven looked down in pity at the cowering Six and sometimes it seemed hopeless... But dammit Seven wasn't going to give up on a human being the government had used and thrown aside as shrapnel. There had to be a way.
That night 7s wife asked "what's wrong honey?".
"Oh just this client... " he replied, as he 8 the 9 his wife had served him.
Many of the jokes are contributions from our users. If you find anything offensive and against our policy please report it here with a link to the page. We will do everything to make this an enjoyable platform for everyone.