Tom got up, and he made sure that his eyes weren't puddles on the ground. John was dead, a metal rod nailing him to the dumpster. The soldier that sat there holding his head through the whole gunfight wandered around, his eyes microwaved. The one who was also apparently an agent coughed up blood in the corner, and the helicopter that they all rode in on was a few hundred feet away, at the end of the crater it left in the permafrost.
"What's your name?" Tom asked, to whichever one answered.
"Stake, I'm private... Stake..." the soldier said. The other agent coughed up a huge amount of tar-black vomit.
"I'm calling you hyuggh, then." Tom said. Hyuggh flipped him off.
"Alright, enough small talk. How are we going to get the hell outta here?" Tom said.