Guess Combat Boots Black の小説・ストーリー

Spring came early to upstate New York, and a hot spring at that. I crunch a stick under a pair of steel-toed combat boots I found in the depths of the suitcase I packed. Yet another thing that just appeared in my closet. I’ve never worn anything like them in my life, but they’re incredible for stomping. “I’m surprised,” Seb says.

Their footsteps were barely audible, muffled by tactical boots with thick rubber soles. Zean walked at the very front. His black tactical attire fitted snugly against his sturdy, broad frame, while the bulletproof vest on his chest tightened in sync with his steady breathing. A dark-silhouetted, short-barreled assault rifle rested firmly in his embrace. The man's sharp face appeared ice-cold beneath the dim tactical indicator lights mounted on his combat helmet.

They looked to be all black clothes, and also had combat boots along with them. “What time is it?” I asked him still looking down at the black clothes in the bag. “10.50,” he responded immediately, and I looked at him and nodded. It was time to get ready.