Last night mike toasted heartily with the rest of the Rough Riders, raising his voice till little more than gibberish was heard. Some sneaky crewman had kept his cup full, but he couldn't remember who, let alone how, he suspected one of the Gear techs. Someone toasted him for protecting the team, which mike didn't really believe, but played along anyway. 

[i]"Cheered for being a wall/bullet stop?"[/i] he thought. [i]sure...why not? 
[/i]He should have used the mini guns more. 

The thoughts continued the rest of the night, until the last few sober brain cells coaxed him to take his leave. What little dignity he had left was preserved as he stumbled into his quarters, shut the door, and fell onto his bed. His head and arm resting on the floor, snores rumbling through the cabin.
Mike fell tail over ears as sirens and bells sent a deafening cacophony through his splitting head.

"MOTHER OF _!" mike coughed before his brain slowly put the pieces together. "attack?.....ATTACK!"
Jumping unsteadily to his feet, mike wobbled, and with sheer force of will, gained his balance and burst from his door, sprinting for the armory. He ran 20ft down the corridor, before he noticed the lack of chaos.

"........." mike frowned and back stepped back into the common area, pointing at bade without looking as he sat down.
"Not funny sir....." he said, holding his head.