>>12091396At the time of Burns's inquiry Holt was currently buried under a pile of smoldering rubble from the concrete wall. It did not provide the sort of cover he had hoped for, either that, or the luck of
those trips the draw heavily turned against him. Regardless, this shit fucking hurt. A few minutes after the plane had pulled up to begin retreating, the debris clump could be seen moving; weak at first, but stronger bit by bit until several smaller chunks near the bottom were thrust aside by a hand clad in torn gloves pushing its way out. Naturally it was the grunt, gripping the snowy ground tight for support in pulling the rest of himself free with no shortage of curses...or snarls of pain.
"Fuck....damnit!" Was the first thing he had to say about the situation, coughing up dust and appraising himself for wounds before he even got off the ground. There were a many, so many he didn't even bother counting. Suffice to say, his uniform was shredded and bloody to the point it wouldn't be serving on the line of duty ever again.
Only after forcing himself into an unsteady limp did he turn to look at the new guy here, face unreadable behind a mask that surprisingly weathered the attack better than the rest of him. What the hell were these made of? "I deal in ice, not flying. I got one, but I wouldn't send it against a fighter plane...kind of out of its league." From there he looked back to the sky, or rather, the plane darting across it. "I don't think we want to see what happens if he comes back with a squadron."
