It was around 1900, and Miles Quaritch along with his team were in one of Site 7's rec rooms after completing a mission sucessfully. These nights didn't happen often, but the Colonel figured that they won something big and it was worth celebrating with his squadron. The room's dimmed lights shone over the few marines and other units that were occupying the space, either playing pool or sitting at the bar.

Devin Mansk and Lyle Wainfleet were standing at one of the empty pool tables, with Wainfleet bending over the surface and drawing back his cue stick, before releasing it against one of the balls.

"Now that's how you do it." Wainfleet pulled himself up and flexed his arm, letting out a confident laugh.

Mansk cocked his eyebrow at the rather lazy hit, a scoff leaving his lips.

"Yeah, sure man. Bet the boss can do it better." Mansk glanced over at Quaritch, who was at the bar with other marines crowded around him.

Quaritch had a cold beer in his hand, taking a generous sip as he listened to the quiet music playing from the speakers. He had to admit that it was nice taking a small break from everything, though he wouldn't say it outloud. The conversations around him were enough to give him a peace of mind.