Avyle stumbled as he stood, evading a shot, and watching the airship. He wanted to drop his AK, just drop to his knees, and put his hands behind his head and become a captive. But no. Most of him said no. He set off a radio transmission, from a american radio. "Comrades, I request assistance. Most of my squad are wounded, and we are still awaiting evacuation from Sepulcher." The transmission ended with a sudden moan of pain, and a roostering of an AK47 assault rifle. Then.. gunshots. And then nothingness. Avyle and several of his squad members had set up a bit of cover, shrapnel and rubble mostly. Two scavengers returned with more ammunition, and a few grenade launchers, and a shotgun or two. He sat with his back to a wall, and smoked his cigarrette, "Zis one is hell, comrades.. Zis one is hell."
