Angela sat warily on the edge of the bed. The clicking of heels on the cement floor made her twitch and reach for the gun that was not there. The hospital personel had taken it away when she'd been brought in, and with good reason. The battlefield did things to a person. It was standard procedure to take away weapons, for fear they would have a break from reality and try -and most likely succeed, given the training they'd had- to harm others.<br/>Nearly every sound made her jump- they all reminded her of Detroit, where her unit had gone in search of the home base for the monster making organization. And found it. Oh God, had they found it. It was in an old Ford Motors warehouse, probably where the first model T had come out. Not that she cared. That place was hell on earth now. The things she'd seen...<br/><br/>She shuddered at the memory of the misshapen things that had attacked her unit. They weren't even human anymore, not after what had been done to them. And somehow the machines knew to keep thier faces -or at least the eyes- relatively untouched. The sight of those all too human eyes so filled with pain, attatched to what she'd seen...She'd almost dropped her weapon from the terror. What if<span style="font-style: italic">she'd</span>been caught? Where would she be right now? Or...maybe<span style="font-style: italic">what</span>was the better question.<br/><br/>With an effort, she laid down on the bed, though every instinct was telling her to keep on guard. She suddenly remembered that to day was graduation at the academy. Her stomach clenched. Strider Unit would need more hands to replace the people they'd lost in Detroit. She sincerely hoped that no one would end up there, that no mentors would end up mentoring kids meant for Strider Unit. With the thought of mentors, her mind suddenly turned to the one she'd been told would pick her up; Lieutenant Tyson....His last name escaped her. Would he be bringing his apprentice along?