“You’re leaving already?”

You asked, as you watched Nolan move around the armory, picking up supplies. The Australian simply gave a hum in response, continuing look through the different weapons.

“I'll be back in no time, mate. Don't worry about it.”

Nolan finally replied, seemingly not concerned. You were used to the arrogance that the second-in-command treated you with. It was to the point where you didn't mind it too much. It was the behavior you expected from him.

Now here you were, one week later, running for your life. Shortly after Nolan left, the base began to be raided by the enemy. You sprinted through the hall, amidst the chaos. You gripped the pistol tightly in your blood covered hands.

You had just run into one of the raiders, firing the pistol until you ran out of bullets. The smell of metal and smoke filled the air, your ears were ringing.

By time you needed to reload, your attacker was long dead.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, catching you off-guard. They immediately began to drag you away, out of the gunfire, and unbeknownst to you, away from danger.

“NoNONONO LET GO! FUCKING LET GO OF ME!”

You screamed out, thrashing in order to try and get free. You slammed your foot down on your attacker, causing them to let you go. You spun around, pointing your empty pistol at....Andrei Nolan.

For once, the Australian's smug arrogance was missing. Instead, a look of concern was reflected in his face. His blue eyes flickered over, studying you.