"Copy, two streets over." Aidan replied monotonously as he followed the hand of his superior's GEAR to catch the general position of the warehouse.

His first impulse was to outright walk out and march there and ignore everything around him as if there was no real combat taking place on the streets of Martenstown. He sighed and crouched, resting on his right knee as he waited for the coast to be cleared by his colleagues; he did not realize how time flowed past him while he patiently waited for the situation outside to change, but neither did he care to know anymore. Everything was past him: his GEAR's destruction, the constant worry of being at peril while out of his GEAR, the health condition of the 101st, Esailia's disease and the secrecy revolving around it. A promise was a promise, though, he wouldn't dare to not provide the woman with the needed drugs, lest he would be less than nothing and being nothing is a low place to be already. Once he was given the green light, Aidan stepped out and crossed the street in a hurry, running at a comfortable pace; he only looked left and right before and after he cleared the distance, pointing his small caliber PDW up and down the street. He didn't know for what he did that, since he was pretty sure there were no enemies on foot and it wouldn't take much thinking power to realize that 5.7mm ammo could not dream to put anything beyond a small dent in a GEAR's hull. With a guttural grunt of frustration, he picked himself up and continued his trek towards the warehouse, checking his corners out of habit. There was nothing going on anymore, the wind would lift and fly plastic bags like kites along the roads now populated with abandoned cars. Save for the ominous, distant rumbling of vehicles he could not recognize and a car alarm blaring somewhere to his right, silence took over the city.

Advancing towards the warehouse, his attention was caught by green, flashing cross across the street that was affixed to a white building. The canine instantly changed his direction and headed straight at it, his jog turning into a dash; he didn't care if there were cameras filming him stealing prescription-only drugs, he had an errand to tend to. He stepped inside and the moment he noticed the ceiling surveillance camera, he quickly aimed at it and squeezed the trigger once with the intermediary phalanx of his index finger, the holographic target reticle centered on the body of the camera. He placed the weapon on the counter of the drugstore and vaulted over it so he could slam his body into a door to open it and try to find a list, a manifesto that would tell him where he could find what he needed. He rummaged through the abandoned agendas, dossiers, folders and PADDs until he found what he needed; he took the list with him and ravaged the drawers and compartments until he had a number of pill boxes lined up on the counter: Rituxan, cortisone, Imuzan, Trimethox. Once he was finished hoarding the stuff he needed, he stuffed them in the pockets his jeans and shirt provided and headed out through the backdoor.

"Alright." He told himself. "Maybe I didn't have to send that cryp-" he only managed to mutter so much before he felt his whole world crash violently, his eyes unable to follow the sudden motion of the world falling in front of him.

He realized he had been knocked down a second after he found himself on the ground, his PDW nowhere to be seen and a warm feeling emanating from his right temple. He didn't lose any precious fraction of a second as he rolled away and pushed himself back up, adopting a fighting stance; at first he did not realize what he was confronting, but to him it did not matter, he had an errand to carry out. He knew he had his knife stowed in the concealed pistol holster, but Aidan decided against going for it jut yet. As soon as he realized his attacker was a high-ranking officer, he regretted not drawing his knife earlier.

[color=00a651]The scar-faced and burly Lynx had managed to exit his GEAR rapidly after evading the Roughriders - not that he knew their names or designation. He'd dumped an emergency upload of his machines core into the nearest Imperial datanode on a secure frequency, and then triggered the 'suicide' protocol for the machine, stopping any of its' information from falling into enemy hands, as well as destroying almost any forensic evidence that could be recovered too. 
He'd rapidly evaded and escaped on foot following that, moving through the conveniently abandoned buildings and narrow sidestreets toward the warehouse. He might still be able to infiltrate on foot and at least verify the princess' location, if not recover her personally.

He'd moved through the streets, cutting through rear alleys and service roads to swiftly avoid the local militia and the ever-moving LDF unit. An explosion and weapons-fire from the near-distance told him that the real enemy had made their move, and the fighting had restarted after its' brief pause. 
His momentary lack of attention was almost his undoing as a canine emerged from a door opening onto the service street. With a growl he quickly and smoothly ensnared him in a CQC hold, slamming him to the ground and smashing him in the temple with the butt of his pistol in the same instant. He stamped on the canines' hand and the fingers around the butt of a PDW, before kicking the weapon out of reach with a clatter across the rough asphalt and cement of the alley. Impressed as the man; a GEAR pilot by his garb and build, much like himself, rolled to his feet and quickly adopting a fighting stance. He did the same, and began to circle, his handgun held ready, and his other hand open as he waited for the canines' next move.[/color]

Aidan's heart sunk once he realized that the thing that connected to his temple and made it bleed was the pistol the lynx was holding in his hand; he gulped, but he kept his eye contact to the enemy. He could feel his knees begging to jerk and tremble, fearing that his life could end in any second now. There was no way for him to walk away from this situation and that inability woke Aidan properly from the lethargy that took over him. He circled in opposite direction from the lynx, keeping himself at a stable distance from the threat; he slowly raised his arms and opened his palms, showing them to the commander that they were empty. He blinked nervously and licked his lower lip, trying to think of a way to get himself out of the tight situation without ending in a body bag.

"Okay, champ, you got me." He started talking, unsure whether the lynx understood or not. He ignored any other sign of aggression from the feline pilot as he tried to somehow placate.

"Look, my GEAR got fucked up, you took away my weapon, that's it, you won. I'll just bugger off and return to my mom's womb, you can go and brag that you fucked a dog or something like that." He continued, his eyes affixed to the lynx's. Aidan's concentration was at a maximum, trying to follow the movement of the arm holding the handgun with the help of his peripherical vision; he tried to determine whether it was lowered or not, so he kept circling around, trying not to trip over the debris as his vision was locked forwards. He progressively bent his knees, preparing his leg muscles for whatever came next.

"Uh, don't get the wrong idea, it's not that I like it up the ass or anything, but I don't know how you guys refer to fucking someone up, as in, properly screw them over. Uh- as in, destroy, obliterate-" there was a flinch, it was the signal he needed. 

He flinched his own right hand, hoping that the lynx would be distracted by it. But he didn't wait to see any reaction, instead, his leaped from his place, bull rushing the lynx, his vision clouded by blurry motion and dark edges; he only felt the impact of hitting the ground and maybe a gunshot, he wasn't sure about that one though. He felt cold, warm, angry and scared at the same time, he could hear himself hyperventilate and his own heart screaming and running in fear as it tried to escape his thorax. He threw his left and right fist where he could, he didn't feel much happening to him, no could he realize whether he was socked in the face with something or not; all that he knew was that he managed to gain control over the armed hand and pin it down, but at the same time, he knew he was struggling for dominance. He tried to reach for his knife, but he fumbled a lot as he tried to pull the shirt up and grab the thing by the handle; he lost his balance at some point and grunted hard as he crashed on his side, but at least he managed to get a tight icepick grip on the black bladed knife. He suddenly went deaf, so this time, he was sure there was gunfire right in his ears, but again, he felt nothing but fear and rage. With an explosive set of motions, pushed, pulled his knife, trying to cut lacerations into his foe. He didn't know how effective that was, but he knew he managed to stab him in the right arm, burying in the whole thing; just as he was about to pull the blade and attempt to finish off, his world got rocked again and this time, he was flat on his back, trying to determine which side was up and which one was down. He couldn't tell if he was able to stand up and walk away, but if this was his final moment, at least he knew he wasn't tied to a cozy chair behind a thick layer of metal and instead, he was covered in the blood of his enemy and fought to the last breath. Valiant or not, he did his job as best as he could, his lack of skills rendered his fit body useless.

[i]I am not so important.[/i]

[color=00a651]The lynx frowned as he followed the canines' rapid conversation. He quickly grew irritated with his waffling, and his insults. All of this was delaying him from moving onward. Getting bored quickly, he readied himself to make a move - before the opposing GEAR pilot moved first. The lynx counter-moved pouncing forward himself, but slipping on the ground as he sprang forward. The collision with the smaller, but still fit and sturdy, man was hard and jarred him enough to lose his breath and fumble the handgun. A gunshot blasted out, well wide of the target but the concussive sound loud enough to jar his senses. The LDF pilot skidded to the ground, still wheeling his arms and swinging blind; a hit caught the Northener on the upper thigh, hitting a pressure point and another whammed into his stomach, doubling him over enough and stunning him well enough for the canine to make a grab for the handgun. He struggled to free himself, clashing with the other pilot and shoving him away long enough to pull the trigger and send another concussive wave of sound over them both, although his foe caught the worst of it. 

Seeing him reel back, the lynx pulled his aching hand back up and was caught unawares as he was assaulted by a flurry of knife strikes. The jabs and slashes were imperfect, but fast and in earnest. One trimmed a whisker from his muzzle and another bit into his side, only enough to break the skin. As he clumsily turned away, the canine got home a resounding blow that sank the black-bladed tactical knife up to the crossguard in his bicep. Staggering with the explosive pain of the wound, the Lynxes' arm went slack, the pistol clattering from his hand and onto the paving of the street. Bent nearly double, he yowled in pain as the sensation blasted up his arm and into his brain. The enemy GEAR pilot reached for the blade, and he snarled angrily in response, lashing out with a powerful kick to the canines' mid-section that sent him flying and crumpled to the ground. The lynx hissed and staggered as he felt blood pump out of his arm and his side, spots dancing before his eyes. Slumping half-standing to the wall, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the blade. Pulling it out would make it worse. With a guttural snarl he spat at the prostrate GEAR pilot, and looked to the roof of the warehouse rising above the nearby buildings. 

He couldn't make it there now. Not like this and with the militia and LDF looking for him. His only chance was to escape and evade... if he made it. But he could track and trace the princess, and this unit of GEARs. They would lead him right to her. And then he'd have another chance. 
He looked down at the blood-soaked canine one last time, before he shoved himself away from the wall and staggered onward, dragging one foot after the other as he headed for the outskirts of the town.[/color]

Waiting proved to solve nothing, so the only thing left for Aidan to do was to check himself. Raising his head to try to look down at himself was enough to make him sick, the world seemed to lag behind compared to his head motion; he nearly lost the power in his arms when he saw himself all bloody and torn. With the sickness came an even more sickening, deaf pain radiating through his abdomen followed by a sharp, burning sensation. He tried to sit up, but he fell on his side and with the whole racket, he started to feel pain in his left bicep too, where the old gunshot wound was. He had to put a lot of effort to pull himself on to his feet, using whatever he could grab to make himself stand up; the world spun and shook, black spots and stars filled his vision as he steadied his knees to support his own weight, his stomach turned and squeezed. To top it all off, he identified a bullet hole on his shirt. 

[i]I'm hit[/i] was all that he wanted to say through the comms and wait for someone to pick him up, but he knew that the town was too hot for exfil just yet and Ken was busy with strafing. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to pull through and just keep going, but the more he tried the more stiff his body became, he also became more and more aware of the pain growing in intensity. [i]I'm not walking away from this one[/i] he thought grimly. [i]I need help[/i] his brain insisted, but another part of him outright refused.

[b][i]I am not so important.[/i][/b]

[i]I'm bleeding out. I can't feel my legs-[/i]

[b][i]I am not so important.[/i][/b]

[i]I want to go home-[/i]

[b][i]I am not so important[/i][/b]

[i]Mama[/i]

Along with the image of his own mother looking up to him before his departure five months ago, he saw the black feline's ears and black hair as she embraced him; both of them always made sure to smell nice, no matter what the occasion. Both of their individual scents filled his nostrils, which was enough fuel to make Aidan stagger forwards, leaving a long blood stain along the wall he used to keep balance. He could feel hot goop pour between the fingers of his other hand holding the wound and it seemed that with every other clumsy step, more would come out. When there was no more wall to help him keep his balance, he had to slow down his pace so he wouldn't fall flat on his face, fearing that it would be his last fall. He glanced over the PDW and against any logical thought process, he picked it up and continued to stagger on, counting on its weight to balance his movement as he advanced towards the warehouse. Once there, he wasn't sure what he wished to accomplish, but nonetheless, he was determined to get there in a timely fashion. His vision was mostly locked to the ground, but he managed to avoid bumping straight against the ATV parked near the warehouse. He recognized the vehicle, judging that it was the fireteam lead by Esailia.

[i]Es. Her meds. I need help.[/i]

[b][i]I am not so important.[/i][/b]

Instead of walking out to make contact, he leaned against the wall there and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, putting a lot of effort in controlling his desperate need for air and the nearly overwhelming urge to groan and grunt with every fiery pulsation radiating through his abdomen and left arm; his skull, spine, humerus and inferior ribs vibrated with every pulse and amplified the pain, keeping the canine as sober as possible. He had that one morphine shot he managed to save, but he knew that it would make him sleepier and becoming too cozy in his current state would be fatal.

[b][i]I am not so important.[/i][/b]