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It felt just like Hill 58 again, but this time the stench and the taste, it was all in one place, nowhere to go, just like how they were now. The atmosphere could drive any weak minds to insanity. As the squad was gathering up after the car had retreated, Michael took a quick look in the rooms that were once a battlefield, and now a graveyard. There were no time for grace and respect for these brave but tragic individuals. It was a horrible fate for such brave souls. Michael didn't know whatever sins they had committed, and hoped that if they did, they would face appropriate salvation, but he knew that to be standing in front of the guns, and to go down in a fight, was something not many people could do. Not that he could do properly. Damn it, he could've sworn he wanted to take someone down right now, but his shoulder had been shattered. This wasn't a game that he could undo at anytime. His mistake costed him his arm, and now he had to bear the consequences. 

But at least he could hope for the tunnel. That's right, they were supposed to be heading there as one of the objectives. He couldn't run away from that. Nor could he shelter in the tunnel. It's a fight or die, or both. He could definitely be able to cause some serious damage though. Now that he remembered that map, it may look a little sophisticated to the untrained eye, but a man of expertise could see through the fact that the tunnel's weakest links would be at three different locations. Not that it would collapse the entire tunnel but access to the upper floor would be cut off, and rescue would take a lot of time. If he managed to pull that one through, then god help the ones who got stranded inside. 

Still, that time would have to wait, as Jean began to gather the squad together with Michael agreeably moving gradually into the center as he was injured. Michael had no objections at all to such a plan. The higher ups had been assholes to the entire squad so far, yet displayed ambiguity, if not no guidance at all, of when they should reach the tunnel. And he had been injured as well. In a narrow, dark, humid and claustrophobic tunnel, fighting underhanded and handicapped would be the worst thing you could be facing. A nice break he wouldn't complain.

Time began to march as the squad began to shift away from the relics of the old building, old battlefield, into the cold wet street of Amone as the echo of the guns began to distance themselves. But never could he once walk in a true sense of safety. Even though he was surrounded by comrades, he knew that a shell could kill him and his squad right there. A sniper fire, maybe from Green Fox himself, could take his head off. Or even an ambush just like before could also send him walking to the pit. If that wasn't enough, the rain was trying to replicate each and every bullets that had been fired that day onto the poor exhausted squad. Dragging his wet boot as it flopped with every steps on the street, the sapper was crying inside in joy the moment the squad found a shelter for the entire squad. A crumbled, depressingly ugly ruin that was once called a house. But nevertheless, that was a place to shelter from sniper fire, one that they desperately needed.

Michael was given the bed as he was the injured one. Not that he would complain about being given the privilege, but it passively did give him the more impression that he had been a deadbeat of the entire squad. At least Thomas probably had been doing a lot of damage before getting pummeled like that. But still, after he lay his tools down on the bed frame, Michael went to the room next door as he took off the outer layers of his upper clothing and forced the water out of his own convenience. His hat as well, but he could always let it dry. But this shirt he'd have to put this back on again. He wouldn't last through the night without it. To sleep on wet clothing, that cozy warm feeling of new uniform surely didn't last long.

[color=bf00ff]"They did a good job..."[/color]

He uttered silently as he looked down at his arm and shoulder. It would probably need some proper dressing, but he owed this to those two.