A bullet buried itself in the wall of the old transit tunnels near Arlington right above Ryan's head, chips of stone and dust came falling down upon his hands. That was one of the more closer calls he's had all day and if he wasn't crouching down behind some rubble his blood would have given the underground passage a much needed new coat of paint. Others around him were less fortunate in the survival department; merely a few meters away from him was a body tightly gripping a battle rifle and that was the whole reason he'd made it up this far to the front. When he saw the rifleman in question fall, Ryan knew he had to get to the body first or else someone else would run off with the spoils. In all honesty it wasn't really the rifle he wanted, merely the ammo; his own weapon was running low and he was down to his last clip despite the fact that he had been firing on single shot mode for the past few days now. In the brief moment of respite Ryan gave himself he gazed back at their own lines with most of the men cowering behind old railway carts and rubble. He found the whole thing ironic to be honest: they use cover to protect their lives, claim they fight to protect the lives of their families and even hired him to be a medic saving the lives of the wounded in the safety behind the lines. He would have been doing just that if it wasn't for the fact that medics who remain behind the lines don't get much in the way of spoils of war. If they were so concerned with human life, then why did they declare war with their neighbors a bit further down the tunnel? You'd think "humanitarians" such as them would realize not many people still remain upon the world. The young mercenary medic chuckled and reached into a satchel on his belt and took out a pack of cigarettes and something to light it. He popped one of the fags in his mouth, flicked the flint on the lighter and brought the flame to his own little addiction. With a deep inhale of smoke and a calm exhale of relief, Ryan set his mind a bit at ease, blocking out all the shouting, crying and shooting around him. He didn't even care that a bullet whizzed right by his ear. He just sat there with a nice cigarette in his hand and the thought "fuck it all" in his head.