Chris slumped into the padded VTOL seats, then immediately regretted that action with a small gasp of pain. Blood loss, exhaustion and a horrendous headache combined to prevent her from even registering the trip but Chris was relieved when the VTOL touched down in front of the League. With another hiss Chris prised her battered and bruised body from the surprisingly comforting embrace of the VTOLs seats and hobbled her way into the building.

“Okay then. Which way’s the way to the Hospital wing?” She asked aloud to the others nearby.

In all honesty Chris was a little bit in awe of her team mates, and maybe slightly jealous, and they’re ability to just shrug off their injuries with a joke and a laugh. Sometimes she wished she was somewhat impervious to attack, it would make everything so much easier. But then again, a small smile crept over her face, this time a few months ago she’d barely been able to do anything in even a training session. And now here she was striding, well more limping than striding, back from terrorist attack she could easily die in, or worse, with nothing more than a bullet wound and possibly some internal bleeding.

Her smile faded along with the warm fuzzy feeling she had been revelling in.