[h1][b][i][color=39b54a][center]Felix Hausten[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/04e4ee377a162567df4ec598c5494dd4/tumblr_inline_o8irfb3jTm1tae3h3_500.gif[/img][/center]
[center]Location: Boston Heights [/center]

His eyes followed Marc as he watched him go to work, talking about his old pal like his friend had done nothing wrong. From what Felix knew, nobody in the millitary was very, attached to what was considered right. Everyone did something dark when they were enlisted, that's what he had heard. So he found it hard to believe the guy who got killed and was some inside guy was some saint on the battlefield, but he shoved that thought aside. 

He took the bag in his hands and passed it between his hands before smirking. He heard the slam. He could feel it vibrating through the walls. Not the actual feeling of the door slamming. But the excitement. In reality it was just in his head but he was sure there was an atmosphere building, the air was heavy with anticipation as he followed behind Marc, a manic smile on his face which he quickly forced down to a smaller less threatening smile.

He peeked in after Marc, hoping he would see what all the fuss was about.