[center]South West, Chris[/center]
Dropping onto terra-firma with a light thud, the skin-headed bruiser from England slung his shotgun into a firing position and peered across the field of battle. His eyes picking out potential cover spots with a trained precision.

[i]What a shit hole.[/i]

Blood, dead bodies, burning mechs, it all reminded the scarred veteran of home as he quickly moved forward securing the LZ. It was one of the mutants that realised one of the dead wasn’t quite dead, but Chris had no time for a soldier who had lost his wits. He passed him by, the fog covering his movements nicely as he moved into the most forward position of all the assorted fighters, a real medley of mercenaries, just like he was used to. He was glad they were all lads, he didn’t trust no woman to be covering his back, and whatever was out there could obviously do a number on anyone unlucky enough to get caught.

When Achilles Heel chipped in, Chris was already there with his decision.

“I didn’t join this outfit to sit around.” Chris growled after his quick, professional, glance around the ruins of the battlefield. Unless one of his comrades was particularly forceful in stopping him, he would move forward using his training to his advantage, zipping in and out of cover between debris with his shotgun at the ready, as he made his way to the more solid position beside the remains of an office building, his back to the wall with a light thump as his head looked in each direction to check his position. He knew from his quick observation early on that the tank was close by, and he had already cleared a good deal of the battle field. Now he was immobile however, the sight of death all around him was getting a little unpleasant, even for him.

“Keep your eyes peeled.” He spoke quietly into his mic, listening intently before he attempted to move any further forward, he wanted to know how brave his squad was first before he made any moves on the tank. “If it’s clear I’ll get on that turret.” He told them, fairly certain they’d be able to guess he meant the tank turret, which was handily placed to lay down superior fire on anything that could be out there. His mask was stifling, but the fog was all around him, and he didn't want to be caught in it without the re-breather.