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She wondered. How could he be so calm and fluent when he said exactly what she felt? And perhaps for him the feeling was worse. She already had nobody else to return to. If she had died, Middleton would be extremely mad, but what else would affect this world other than that. But Michael's different. He had someone. She knew from the time they were on the train that he was a big mama's boy. She was the world to him. The only son in the family, he owed his existence to a woman who risked her entire life just to give him a good one in return. If he had broken the promise, his debt would be catastrophic that the entire generation could not deal with. It wasn't simply just the fear of losing a friend that you spent a couple of months or years together. And it definitely wasn't as simple as her pains. And yet how? He didn't seem to falter at all. He was like that wise old guy next door at her old now-destroyed home at Asseni that Lucia loved to visit and have a cup of tea every Sunday morning, seemed to always cater to people's need and guided them through the dark. How could he both be strong and scared at the same time?

And how could she be that naïve? The moment Michael's hand, small yet a bit callus from the rigorous training a few months before, held onto her own, her frail and equally damaged hand. It was subtle, but she could feel it. A subtle, as light as a breeze, movement in the palm. And that deep violet galaxy that caved into the black hole that seemed to cater an endless number of possibility of how he could collapse and die in this strange foreign land. He was scared. Just like her. He wasn't a saint. He wasn't a seasoned person who has seen it all. Michael was simply, and simply, an innocent soul being dragged into this bonfire that he didn't want to. Maybe he wasn't that innocent; he was pretty highly educated, pretty smart and sophisticated for Lucia's level of comprehension. But in the end, he was that person next to her. And in him was something of her that she hadn't seen it until now. And she never felt so close to home than every time she was with him. 

[color=a9ff7d][b]"T-Thank you."[/b][/color] 

Her tears finally stopped. And in the sour cheek rose a beautiful smile. Her scar was still there. Nothing could ever erase it. And she'd undoubtedly have many nights of terror and torment. But for now, behind her was definitely someone. Someone who Lucia could always come to when the world turned her back on her.[hr]
That one line of appreciation made his world a little faster to say. The next thing he knew, he was already through the huge breach on the wall of Amone, and he was set on heading for the area where he was going to get his makeshift weapon. It was only until the beating of the precipitation awakened him to the majestic piece of Francian architecture amidst a city desolated by warfare. The many puddles on the floor shot the melancholic and injured tower's remaining beauty it had in its desolation onto any souls who were artistic enough to see the pain. One of those towers caught Michael's eyes: not the tallest among the giants, but the most symbolic. The one with the cross at the top, while the majority of the walls had been eaten away mercilessly. 

He wondered if any of his Cruxian believers were present in this city. If they were Imperials, then sorry to say he'd have to do the hard task. If they were neutral, he wished them safe and sound. He prayed that when the time comes, they wouldn't be standing in front of his muzzle. 

Shaking his head, he looked away from the light construct of the monuments of tragedy as he approached the area for the makeshift melee weapon. He did think holding a mace sounds better for CQC, but he was already wielding a digging shovel and a wrench, multiple satchel charges for the demolition of the tunnel later on and a couple of other miscellaneous tools. He'd probably not want more weight on his back now. But he could still request something to do with his shovel. Something like a saw like shape on one side to increase the damage. Something in which the sappers accomplished them pretty easily, though with a pretty uneven distance and shape between the saws...something the engineer Michael may have a little problem with. But nevertheless he was ready for combat. Ready to do whatever he had to do to get the brass's job done.

The relatively peaceful short walk had proved short-lived however. All to Michael's surprise as a chill ran down his back, his second battle for his life had begun. And it all began with a deafening sound of gunfire in the silence. Michael's hand trembled for a second as he held his gun firmly, the stock onto the back of his left shoulders. And the wheels of industrialization had begun to roll...[hr]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk-nFm5J_u8[/youtube][hr]
The roar of the engine shattered the rain. The sound of the wheels clattering on the concrete floor echoed straight into the dreams of the unknowns. The iron-cladded majestic beast, the masterpiece of engineering, rolled coldly down the damp and desolated street of Amone. It was almost as if they were the cavalry soldiers at the beginning. Shiny and royal. But this immense weapon of war, the one thing Michael had always idolized it for its inhuman ability to serve humanity for their geniuses, began to shed the terror of ending a human's life who was unlucky enough to find themselves in the way of its hot barrel. 

And ironically enough, for someone who was such an advocate for technology to be one of the first victims of it. 

Before Michael fired his shot, Lucia was pushed right into Michael by Jean. The small Asseni girl, yet still bigger than Michael himself, found her way right into Michael's arm, but at the cost that now the sapper found him at the mercy of the dice roll. Or to him God. He managed to fire a bullet the direction of the infantry supporting the car, but it was merely an empty attempt, as one hand aiming was a sure miss unless he gets really lucky. 

[color=bf00ff][I]'Damn it, we're in the open!'[/I][/color]

The order to retreat into the building couldn't come at a better time. Michael moved right almost immediately. Only a couple of steps away. But that few steps proved too little too many. Before Lucia could really recover from the push Jean just shoved her over, the guns of the armored car had already open fired. The sapper's hand and the side of his torso immediately covered the young private. It was a great decision, but one which would cost him.

[color=bf00ff]"Ahh!"[/color]

The feeling when the blood dislodged from its course. Now he felt it first-hand. One in his arm upper arm, and one went past his shoulder. 

But before anything he shoved the poor Asseni again, this time making her stumbling yet safely landed onto the interior of the left buildings. That before he also stumbled over, but instead of going right through the door, he found his two palms on the wall outside of the house. 

The danger had yet to pass for now. Another bullet could still end his life. And yet he couldn't see them. Michael's dark violet eyes dulled. The concrete floor and wall seemed to blur. His head ran the possibility. His damaged mind continued to calculate the blood fusing out of his wound. For that few seconds, he was motionless, a fish in the barrel. He couldn't focus. He didn't know what to do next. His mind refused to articulate a thought outside of one. 

[color=bf00ff][I]'Mother...'[/I][/color][hr]
From the terrifying scream of gunfire, to Jean shoving him into Michael, then him shoving her into the building, she had a pretty rough ride. A groan escaped her lips as she lifted herself up. But thanks to that, Middleton's prized treasure was not disturbed. Michael's push had ensured a quick escape of the dancing bullets. As she was finally on her feet, she watched as her squad mate began to pile in the building. But Michael was still nowhere to be found. Was he still outside? Was he killed by the bullets that he shielded her from?!

Lucia ran for the door. A figure right beside the entrance. It was him! What was he doing?!

[color=a9ff7d][b]"Michael!"[/b][/color]

She immediately peaked her hands out, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him in. To this day it was still uncertain how he didn't get shot from that. But he had made it. 

[color=a9ff7d][b]"M-Michael. W-What happened?..."[/b][/color]

But no answer. He was definitely not dead. But his eyes were getting red. His uninjured hand held firmly and desperately onto the soaked stain of red in his blue. And he was leaning onto a wall nearby. 

[color=a9ff7d][b]"Oh God. S-Someone!"[/b][/color]