[u][b]AVALANCHE[/b][/u]

The spray of hot water ended with a squeak of steel and a loud exhale that sat in between fear and relief. Lachlan ran one of his hands through the slick black strands of his hair as he stepped out of the stall and towards the mirror. A wall of condensation had formed onto the glass which Lachlan rubbed off with a smear of his hand. Just as he was about to grab the towel hanging off a side rack, he paused midway and chuckled. It was abrupt and sudden like the hiss of a boiling kettle. It was the prelude to a question that had been hanging on his mind ever since M15 and M16 dragged him onboard the Minerva Force program. 

How the hell was this normal? How was any of this normal? 

Yes, the tours in Afghanistan and painstaking hours of boot-camp had helped but they were preparing him for insurgents and enemies of the Queen instead of extraterrestial invaders. There had been many firsts each member of Minerva Force had done today. The first to see an alien. The first to kill an alien. The first to successfully win against an alien incursion, he could go on and on.....

Yet, for all the fanfare in the base, Lachlan couldn't help but let his pessismism win out. The stares the other personnel were giving him as he walked into the base's retreat room made his skin itch. He could imagine some members of the squad who would eagerly soak up the attention like a sponge but dealing with the aliens was a duty, not an achievement to be proud of. Three bodies wouldn't be the end of it. It would be the beginning of what was to come. His bones seem to become more heavier as the Nepalian trudged his way towards the fullly stocked bar cabinet. He flipped open the cabinet door curiously and the benefits of a internationally funded organisation glew at him ominously in amber light. 

" Oi, oi, oi, gents!," A loud racuous voice made Lachlan turn around as a crowd of base personnel strode into the retreat room. Their yellow flourescent vests marked them as the base's auxillary personnel; engineers, service cleaners, the like. They clambered messily into the retreat room in a tangled mess. " Looks like we've got an alien killer to keep us company!"

Lachlan politely coughed. " I wouldn't exactly call myself that - " 

" How's 'bout you pour us a drink." One of the base personnel leaned onto the bar top towards Lachlan, a bemused look on her face. " Tell us how it all went down? Frankly, I prefer the word of someone on the ground than waiting for Command to give us the official report." 

" Yeah, is it true one of ya boxed them to death?" Another person piped up.

" How many fingers do the fuckers have? Do they have...uh...you know...private par-?"

" Did you see their spaceship?" 

" Don't be ridiculous, Carl! They were in the middle of the Atlantic." 

Lachlan let the storm of conversation pass over him for a few minutes, waiting patiently for the din to die down. When it didn't, he deftly retrieved an block of ice out from the cooler and took out his kukri. He whacked the back of it against the ice at an diagonal angle, causing a high pitched wobbling whine to reverbate through the bar and break apart the clouds of gossip. 

" If I'm going to talk, I'm gonna need a drink to loosen my lips. You gents up for it?" 

The crowd cheered in unison as an answer and Lachlan signed as he got to work hacking away at the ice with his kukri. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too shitfaced before debriefing began.