[h3]Michael Sonnen[/h3]

Quicker than most, Michael got the basics of his arm down. He held it in his hand and made sure, at least twice, that the safety was [i]off[/i]. He touched his scar out of several emotions, none more than fear. However, beyond that menacing trepidation was a powerful need for vengeance. It felt both overwhelming and necessary. 

Among the other soldiers, if he could call them that, Michael positioned himself near the only person he had spoken to. He had twelve shots to play with and another to replace the first should he run out. On the fringes of his mind, he realized he was still carrying his pickaxe. [color=red][I]Should I run out of ammunition, I always have this to rely on.[/I][/color] 

He held tight to it as the rusted elevator hummed upward, creaking and scraping with age. Michael couldn't put his finger on why he had blindingly charged into the fray with this band of strangers. All he could imagine, all he could think it might be; was his torturous guilt over Courtney's death. 

[color=red][I]I couldn't show you in life, Courtney... The cancer that Galatec is. So maybe in death, if you're watching and not rotting in the ground... maybe you can see through my eyes, the evil thats in theirs. [/I][/color] 

Outwardly he heaved. Outwardly his muscles tensed and his palms became moist with sweat. On the inside, he felt how he looked on the out. Full of adrenaline.