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The blur over his vision, the feeling that the world was speeding behind him began to subside, as soon as Lucia tied the final knot on his arm. And he opened up himself to the sweet and earnest encouragements of two of the resident's angels as he would call. Even still, the pain burning around his shoulders and arm, his pumping lungs to keep up the blood intake made him ever want to doubt such an advice. He barely made it with a simple textbook example of an ambush, something that could never be expected like a weather forecast. And to think, this war had lasted over two years now, who knows how much longer it would last? Territories had been switching hand like real estate, and never had a decisive victory been achieved. It's just a matter of attrition, of which side having more assets on the table, more meat into the grinder. Who knows if the next battle he partakes in be his last? 

The sound of rattling gunfires screamed from all sides, having no signs of ceasing anytime soon. The screams of pain and losses, the tears of horror, the curses of inhumanity as soldiers from both sides, all human beings, all sons and daughters of God, committed sins against their very own brothers and sisters. Lucia wanted to throw all of that out. She wanted to just close her eyes and drift away to a distant world where she could be happy with her family and friends, now dead, and her newly found friends on the battlefields of Europa. But she had seen too much to know it would never happen. She could entirely live in denial, but that would not change the fact. Facts do not care about anyone's feelings. But such denials would. Before her was the boy who cared about her, and she had begun to care about as well, now lying motionless and void as he struggled to find himself again. If she had shut herself away now and lied down in tears, she'd die. Michael'd die. And there was nothing great imagination and illusion could do to change that. She had to protect him!

Hearing the sounds of the Sturmtruppen in the other rooms as they closed in on her squadmates, Lucia stood up on her feet as she clutched the Longfield Rifle. She knew there were a couple of her friends that were handling the defenses, but they were Imperial equivalent of shocktroopers. They are well-trained and capable. There was high chances that they would slaughter her squadmate and make it to the room where she, Diana and Michael were residing in. If they were to, at least Lucia would be their obstacle, a sharp fang of a razertooth, not a piece of junk. 

[color=a9ff7d][b][i]'I'm sorry Mr Imperial but if you come in here, I'd have your head blast open...'[/i][/b][/color]

She thought to herself as she cocked the bolt of her gun. She never wanted to kill anyone, but if they endanger anyone of her friends, she would not care who the hell that person is: a total commoner, a lovely father, a noble duke or even the Emperor himself. All are equal before her eyes: a threat that must be extinguished by all means. [color=black]BY ALL MEANS...[/color]

But luckily for the members of Squad 1, and perhaps for those Imperials who wouldn't want to feel the wrath of a five feet two girl, her squadmates were all fine. Pretty beaten up, but at least they pulled through. The Imperials had retreated both inside and outside the street, and the silence quickly crept in like a ghost. And soon before Lucia and Michael was Jean. His arm had also been torn by glasses, while his cleanly shaven neat face had been marred by the reds of their innocence. But he didn't seem to mind at all, or was just pretending to. But nevertheless, it appeared to the sapper in the room that, in an ironic twist, his position with Jean had been reversed. 

A sense of guilt suddenly ran through his mind, as the realization that he had been a drag on the squad for the entire battle. Not only did he allow himself open to fire, he also lost himself in the midst of pain and thoughts, where he should not. He let himself open, a liability that had to be taken care of, where he and others could easily die without a fight, while he should be standing with a gun pointed forward, side by side with his comrades. He knew that it was ok to let yourself open to emotions, but there was a time and place for that. And he definitely didn't do it at the right moment. What kind of a man is he to even behave like he is?

Michael slowly made himself a soldier again, as he used his other non-injured arm to support himself up on his feet. He still looked as if he could fall at any moment, but at least he had stood up. The gun was also back on his shoulder as he walked over to the rest of the squad.

[color=bf00ff]"I'm sorry for throwing myself out of that fight."[/color] He muttered. [color=bf00ff]"That car will definitely pay the cost for those bullets later on."[/color]