LALE FELT like one of his major organs had been ripped out.

There one second, gone the next. No blood (Except for the trickle out of her forehead oh God). No pain (Agonizing). Just an emptiness that was filled with the beating of his heart, too slow and too constant as he pulled the trigger again.

And again.

And again.

How many more did he kill? How many more fell, while he felt nothing? No remorse. No fear. Just a heartbeat.

But not Fereldson's.

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"Snap out of it!" Bradley was shaking him, his fingers digging through his suit and awakening his senses. Lale's eyes focused on his. To his shock, he realized that his vision was blurred with tears. "You're alive, okay? But you're not gonna be for long if you don't snap out of it!"

"I killed her," Lale's tongue felt thick and heavy, like he hadn't used it in a century. It was like Bradley had awakened his mortal self. The one that was thirsty, and tired, and just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. And cry, maybe. In a place where no-one could see him, deep inside. "I fucking killed her."

"She was on the wrong side of this battle." Lale had never heard Bradley speak so venomously before. "But you're not. Come on, man!"

Lale did not want to 'come on'. But, as he slowly awoke from his stupor, he noticed that the gunfire was still assaulting his ears, and his fingers were cramping from pulling the trigger, and his grey suit was stained with blood. Not his own.

He and Bradley were behind the cage of the elevator, and, beyond them, Ichabod was shooting with his tiny pistol. It was more effective than Lale would've thought.

Lale groaned and sat up from his position against the cage and leaning on his friend. He clasped Bradley's hand, ignoring that emptiness for a moment. Live first, grieve later. "Thanks, man."

"Just don't do that again," his wiry comrade grunted, though his eyes betrayed more concern than Lale would've liked. He turned away and grabbed the lethal rifle, former stoniness chipping away by slowly rising anger. He didn't need pity - he  wanted the bastards that had dared to rope Fereldson into her death dead.

"We need a plan!" Ichabod yelled, throwing himself behind cage alongside them as several more hostile advanced on them. He swung open his cylinder, and the lack of gleaming bullets was evident. "We can't just keep going on at them like this!"

"You got a better idea?" Bradley retorted, poking his rifle around the edge of the cage and firing wildly at the opposing soldiers, who ducked, but didn't slow their progress.

Lale stayed quiet, assessing the situation. They were still inside the warehouse, defending the elevator. He knew that, if anyone got down it, it would be game over. But the stairs were unguarded, as well as the porthole behind the warehouse, which was no source of ease for he and his fellow marines. If Amelia and her friends were killed ... the thought shuddered deep within him.

I can't let that happen. I won't let another person die. Not today.

"We need reinforcements," Lale finally decided, brushing his palm against his eyes. His vision cleared, and he wiped the tears on his suit. But from where? All of the marines have been deployed!

At that moment, the cage netting began to shudder, and the familiar mechanical whooshing of the elevator started up. Lale tensed and gripped his gun tighter, not daring to believe that his wish would actually be granted.

The pedestal below the elevator brought the creaking box to a stop. Their view of the other soldiers were blocked, and Lale held his breath as he heard the doors open. Friend or foe ... Friend or foe.

There was the almighty ringing out of gunfire, so ferocious and violent Lale clapped his hands over his ears, forsaking his rifle for his eardrums. Fear clenched its mighty fist within his chest. Guns. Not volt-guns. The people in the elevator were not there to save them, but then why were they shooting at their own men?

Finally, after a millennium of skull-cracking exchanges, the auto-rifles quietened. Lale didn't even reach for his own; they were outnumbered and alone, and his own last wish was fumbling away, drowned out by his fearful heartbeat and the icy needles of impending death -

That didn't come.

Lale unclenched his fists, frowning. Why am I not dead yet? There was silence in the warehouse, and Bradley and Ichabod seemed paralyzed, holding their respective guns like kids with soft toys. It was up to him to check it out.

Grabbing his weapon, he rested his finger casually on the trigger - ready to pull at a moment's notice - before standing. A second passed. Then another. Lale inhaled, then twisted around the corner of the cage and whipped straight for the entrance of the elevator, his rifle an extra appendage and his hands twitching with adrenaline.

But, instead of visors, his eyes were met with grey suits and dark curly hair. Amelia! The momentary surprise and joy that the occupants of the elevator were not, in fact, hostile - but rather the nerd, Luca, and Tina and Amelia - faded when he thought about how close they had come to death.

"Lale!" Tina was clutching her own auto-rifle, though her hands shook. She had dropped to her knees, the muzzle of her weapon aimed up at his chest as Amelia slumped against the back of the elevator.

Her cry reignited his smarter side, and he immediately crouched to access the situation. Even though it had been daggin' stupid - even suicidal - of them to join the marines' fight, it selfishly warmed his heart. But he hid that relief, because none of them looked free of wounds.

"That was damn stupid of you," Lale grunted, helping Tina to her feet. "The elevator's got metal mesh, so any of the bullets that missed you could ricochet - and then hit you."

"Lucky us," Tina replied loudly, before holding her hands to her ears. "I think I'm deaf."

"That'll fade," I hope. He held his hand out to Amelia. She took it with a wince, her palm clammy. She didn't get to her feet before her knees gave, and Lale quickly dipped to catch her before she fell. "Amelia?"

"I'm fine," she murmured. She was still holding her own auto-rifle, and she slung it over his shoulder. Her body leaning against his, he settled her behind the elevator's cage once more, before returning to help Luca.

"I'll take that," Ichabod took Tina's auto-rifle and fired at the remaining soldiers. Lale watched for a moment, somewhat in awe in the professionalism and the coldness of the British man's actions, before helping Luca to his feet. Blood was welling on his suit's arm.

"You good?"

"No. I just got shot, man."

"It's a flesh wound," Lale informed him. If he was the type of person to do that, he would've rolled his eyes.

With Tina, Luca, and Amelia safely out of the way and recovering from facing death head-on, Lale turned back to the task of shooting any suspicious bastards. But it didn't look like there were any suspicious bastards to shoot.

"You guys stay put." Along with Bradley, they took off for the surrounding area of the warehouse. The carnage was almost unreal; and there were more bodies than Lale would've liked. Smoke rose from the haphazard electric fencing, which looked like it had been knocked down by a wrecking ball. The earth was peppered with bullets and blood, but there were no other living people in sight.

The roar of an engine brought their guns up, and a fleet of Jeep-like vehicles rushed past, throwing sand and soil in their faces. Lale shrank back with a cough, before firing blindly at the tail-gate of the one bringing up the rear; the cars slammed through the remaining fencing, knocking it aside like it was a tumbleweed instead of an electrified metal fence ten feet high.

The jeeps dashed off into the distance, and silence took over once more. Lale lowered his gun, and felt more exhausted than he would've reckoned possible.

"Looks like we showed them," Bradley finally spoke, his voice hoarse. Lale did a double-take at his friend's appearance - bloodshot eyes and white knuckles from clasping the trigger, and blood and dust-covered clothing.

He assumed he wouldn't look much better.

"Let's hope," Ichabod grunted, swinging his gun over his shoulder. "I wonder what the head honcho will have to say about this."

"Let's stop," Lale suggested. Now that he had finally slowed down enough to notice his bodily pain, a headache was forming behind his eyes. "Let's just stop thinking and get back down there to figure out what the hell's going on."

"Sounds like a plan." Bradley shrugged and clapped Lale's shoulder, before turning and heading back into the warehouse. It took a few moments for Lale's eyes to re-adjust to the gloom, but they were immediately drawn to the three Learners, who looked slightly more lively.

Their grey depths landed on Amelia, who stood and started walking towards them. "We found one of those guys before coming up here," she crossed her arms over her chest, no evidence of returned wobbliness, but it seemed more like a nervous gesture.

"He tell you anything?" Lale questioned, internally chiding himself for feeling surprised. It seemed like the Learners could do a lot of things not expected of them, and the curly-haired woman in front of him was no exception.

"A lot of things," Amelia confirmed. She hesitated. "And I don't think it means good things for us."

Lale sighed - this time he wasn't surprised. "When has anything about ERAA meant good things for us?"

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