[centre][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181008/b02a8e514a847d83c3d8892fffdb6f35.png[/img][hr] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkftRe3lt-k[/youtube] [h2]"Those who seek death will live"[/h2][/centre][hr] Every second passed since the dual explosion in the infirmary was every second filled with adrenaline as Michael rushed down the tunnel in the other direction from Reyna. He was committed now. There would be no secrecy from now on. He would be more than willing to empty a cartridge or bash an Imperial’s head in. As long as it pushed him closer to the goal he had in mind. Rushing past the checkpoints where he memorized earlier, Michael knew it was one of the few signs he was on the right track. The other ones? The sound of screaming Imperials. Oh, they were pissed. For sure. When only two Federation soldiers just blasted hundreds of hours of work and endangered the very lifeline of Amone’s Imperial forces, they wanted a piece of them. For Michael, two of these men were running in his direction, on their way to investigate the explosion. He could hear their footsteps etching closer and closer. There were no hiding spots good enough. The corner he turned from was the direction they were probably heading down toward. Choices were scarce. He had to kill them. Michael quickly had his carbine on his left shoulder, his legs creeping backward, reaching the tunnel T-section he just turned from. Just as he edged half his body behind the corner, sights of the two Imperials were in his vision. It wasn’t even a clear vision to be exact. Their only indication of location was their footsteps and the dim parts of their body, visibly disjointed but still moving objects. And here, every moving object is an Imperial. Praying on those loose evidence alone, a deafening bang momentarily sliced through Michael’s eardrums. His comically short silhouette on normal days flashed by the shot as an eerie vision, his eyes deadly white by the luminescence. The bullet lodged into one of the Imperial’s neck. His death came agonizing as he would squirm on the floor for minutes. And unbeknownst to the other soldier, he would die even faster. Michael quickly followed up with another shot, but unfortunately missed. The Imperial retaliated but was way too late as the snapper knew better than to poke his head in the open. Between his friend and Michael, the choice was obvious. The Imperial surged forward, bayonet ready. He turned the corner and tried to swing for Michael’s direction. But unfortunately for him, Michael was a lot shorter than he imagined. The swing missed its intended target, and his error was paid with his life, as he felt a knife plunged in his stomach, and shortly after in his neck. After the second soldier fell to the ground, Michael instinctively ran back to his corner, but after a few seconds later he realized that there were no more enemies. For now. The first Imperial he shot was still alive, but Michael knew his life is now by the minutes. Perhaps Michael pitied his agony or worried over he’d draw too much attention with his last few moments. Whatever the answer was, the injured soldier was put down with another shot to the head. His obstacles gone, Michael went deeper in. Moments later, he found himself at the end of the branch. The target room. Explosives were quickly laid out, and fuses sparked. The explosion of the successful destruction emboldened the Edinburghian. He was one step closer to a job done, and one helping hand given to the soldiers on the surface. Time to move to the next target. But as always, someone was always there to stand in his way. Either combatant was completely unaware of the other’s approach. The light in the sector had been snuffed out by the explosion. The only thing keeping him navigated was the creeping light rays barely and sporadically creeping into the narrow parallel space. This soldier was having his skills more stoved up his hand, as his movement was much more silent. His hands clutched tightly on the rifle, his iron sight lined exactly where his eyes were locked on. His strides slow and short. He could hear Michael’s approach getting fainter and fainter as the sapper slowly faded into the darkness, knowing the danger of ambushes when he walks into unknown territory like this. But when Michael’s carbine hit the light, a bullet tore through the air. A gasp escaped his lips as the bullet slammed into his shovel. An inch further left, and he’d be dead. Michael returned fire twice with his carbine. But apparently, his enemy was still alive, and he was thoroughly behind a crate as cover. So Michael ran back, found a small cover in the form of a small corner and hid there. For a relative minute, silence once again took over. Both soldiers knew the other was there, but the fear of an ambush kept them from approaching each other, hoping that the other man would make the mistake of charging into the other one. But none made the call. The Imperial too experienced to be reckless. Michael too fretful for an attack. To him, the Empire wasn’t easy prey. They were experienced, knew their expertise, and they were on their chosen ground. But the longer he waits, the tighter the noose around his neck. More soldiers may already be at his very corner. There were no options; he had to attack. As faithful and religiously devoted Michael was, sometimes the leap of faith was a stupid idea. It drove the idea of blindness. Of rashness and irrationality. But at the same time, he knew just as well the values of actually taking the step and the random nature of life, sometimes disgustingly so. But he wasn’t going to simply embrace a blind charge. No. If he was going to be brash, he would be calculatedly brash. [color=fff257]“Huh?”[/color] All of a sudden, the Imperial soldier heard a stomp on the ground. Then, from the very corner of his eyes, something landed right beside him. A small rectangular metallic container full of explosives. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Not even waiting for his rationale to kick in, the Imperial soldier immediately vacated his cover. He didn’t need to see it. Nobody throws something except for it being grenades. A second or two late and he’d be in pieces. He retreated as further down as possible waiting for the explosion. ...which never came. What came instead was that five-foot-tall Fed that he was hunting down. And he was already on his face, closing the distance surprisingly quickly for a man of his height, his shovel firmly on his two hands, ready to strike. It turned out the explosive was not lit. It was just a ruse to make the Imperial vacate his lofty and secure cover. The whole plan hung right on the instinctive reaction of a soldier, and it had worked. He was tricked. Michael could dimly see the man trying to regain his posture through the creeping light, but he went through. He couldn’t doubt himself here. He charged his shovel he took the other day fully entrusted to take over his normally more powerful carbine. Right before the Imperial could shoot, the sharp edge of the shovel slammed into the gun, cracking where it landed. Then a hit to his stomach, also from the sharp edge. And then finally, a chest hit. It was fatal. [color=fff257]“Mother...”[/color] That voice... The soldier collapsed. If he wasn’t dead right away, he would be soon. The only solace for the latter case was that he would not be conscious enough to feel the pain. His only last word struck a recall. It sounded...familiar. [color=bf00ff]“Heinz?”[/color] It was fresh in his mind. After reeling back from the adrenaline of the fight, Michael finally found the time, albeit very short, to identify the normally faceless enemy. It was the man he conversed with back in the inn. The man who Michael could find the respect he needed to have a civil discussion about politics and war without devolving into a shouting match. The man whose example could possibly be a powerful tool that could avoid so many unnecessary conflicts. And ironically, in one of those unnecessary conflicts, he had just been cut down brutally by the person he personally also respected. Letting the light where they both stood shone on his face, it was just confirming his suspicion. It really was him. His stiff motionless face replaced the once stoic demeanor of Michael’s first impression. The tag Michael found inside his uniform was the final nail in his coffin: Corporal Heinz Noel, 45th Jaeger Unit. Along with a letter placed within the same pocket. To his mother, never delivered, soon replaced with a death certificate. His eyes drenched. But time was of the essence. It denied him the human moment of grief. So he quietly put the things into his own pocket, retrieved the explosives and headed for the demolition sites. He left in no more than two minutes.[hr] His branch was done. He somehow managed to accomplish the difficult task. Funnily enough, there weren’t that many Imperials to move against him. Of course, he had to dodge or kill quite a number of them to get back to where he came from, but it didn’t diminish the fact that the attack on the infirmary was correct. Nevertheless, due to the time taken in the gunfight with Heinz adding onto the cat and mouse chase, Michael had lost more time than he anticipated. Unbeknownst to him, that was an improbable string of chances rivaling the existence of life in the universe itself. On his way out, he saw a set of backpack almost exactly like the one he was wearing. Upon closer inspection, he found a couple of tools lay right nearby, tied to pieces of cloths, soaked in crimson red. It took a few more seconds for his memory to kick in that this was that intersection where Reyna and he had agreed upon, and that she would take the task of destroying the room nearby. [color=bf00ff]“Reyna?”[/color] Alarms kicked in the instant he pieced things together. That possibility crossed his mind, to which he desperately tried throwing it out. It couldn’t be that quickly. [color=bf00ff]“Reyna!”[/color] She was there by the corner close by, sitting against the wall. Her signs of life weren’t visible. Oh no. Please. Please. Don’t let this be. Don’t let there be another one. She’s not meant for this. Please. [color=bf00ff]“Oh God thank you.”[/color] She still lives. Her breathe still felt. Her pulse still pumped. But she needs to get out of here. It wasn’t even the least of the danger Reyna was completely out of her body right now. Her eyes barely opened and her weak muscle resistance barely counted against Michael. Still, with all the extra equipment he was carrying, the weight was excess. Emptying all the strength he had remained, and even further beyond, Michael dragged Reyna from the wall she rested on. One arm below her waist and one arm behind her knee, the sapper lifted Reyna like he lifted Lucia the other day. Step by step, he found the unusual strength he thought he didn’t have, gradually speeding up to a jog as he carried the Vinlander back to where his comrades ought to be waiting. Then... [h3][color=red]BOOM!!!![/color][/h3] A mist rolled right into him, engulfing them both. A powerful shockwave shoved him into the wall, his left elbow crashed into the hard rock, sending a needle cut shot of pain straight all the way up. His head spun like he was being spaghettified. Life felt like a fleeting dream now. A touch of a finger and it could lift off the ground. Forever. The light was visible from the corner of his eyes. He needed to move. His collapse right here at the brink of safety was there, but his steps were firm. Each stomp carried an unseen, unheard, hidden willpower of a man fighting for something other than survival. He didn’t care he may die. Not anymore. Thoughts of his mother’s pain did not cross his mind. Thoughts of his departure did not cross his mind. He was willing to die. He was willing to give away his life at this one moment. For Reyna. For someone who may or may not worth more than him. [color=bf00ff]“You’ll be safe.”[/color] He whispered. Another step forward.