John grunts as he comes to, having being shot in his left arm. Its unreliable for now, making him grow frustrated as he understands his situation.

He couldnt even sit up properly, his warmth dissipating fast. As he reads the russian on the walls, his heartrate jacks up in his chest despite the rapid bloodloss.

"Ah cant— fuck..." he growls lowly, his radio shattered and mashed up. He could feel death seeping into his skin, vision blurring. He refuses to die here—he must return to 141 HQ.