Mitchell pov.
He blindly dashed to the cover 30 feet away. He hoped that no one would notice and didn't flinch when a bullet grazed his shoulder. It happened a lot. To the point where you didn't think twice about it. Gideon's voice crackled to life through the coms "Mitchell where are you? We got separated I need your position." Right as he was about to answer he felt a bullet rip through his leg. He yelped and face planted into the ground. He groaned in pain and embarrassment as he put his arms underneath him attempting to lift himself up (Imagine Push up holds. Like the gym warm ups xP I hate gym) Blood welled up and soaked his pants legs. Having it black it didn't look like blood. Just a shiny sleek spot barely noticeable until caught in sunlight. He growled in frustration and sprang up as adrenaline rushed throughout his body. He limped slightly picking the pace up to a slow sprint. Vaulting over the cover he landed directly on his bad leg. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out and shook his head as black dots danced in his vision. He leaned against the cover and growled again as he noticed more blood pumping from the wound. Fatigue washed over him as his body craved more blood. "If I keep going like this in gonna pass out" he mutters. "Can't patch up here though. Too open." He says and noticed it had been quiet. He still decided to move his instincts kicking in. As quick as he could he moved to a crumpling building. It still had its concrete supports but erosion hadn't done it well. Along with the war and explosives. He remembered before the war. Everything was so different so surreal. It was actually living. Not in fear, Not suppression. A race for power was always the issue. Power, everyone had to have it. This rush always resulted in one thing. Chaos. And Irons found that out the hard way. As Mitchell began to pale from blood loss he let his legs carry him not really paying attention. He plopped down and grabbed his knife his mind working in a blur. He acted like he was programmed to do this and cut the pant leg. He peeled the sticking cloth off his skin and cringed at what he saw. A hole about an inch was present. Along with a bloody bone poking out. He knew what he had to do. He sure as hell didn't like it but knew it was necessary. He cut off a piece of cloth and shoved it into his mouth. Mentally praying this worked and he didn't f*ck up his leg more he laid his hands on the leg gently. His overactive nerves immediately caught the change in pressure and he groaned into the cloth. Yup this was gonna be fun. He prepared himself and suddenly put all the pressure he could into the leg. His eyes widened as a excruciating pain wrenched through his leg. He screamed "F*CK" into the cloth it muffling the sound. A slight pop sounded and Mitchell slumped down unconscious.
Mystery pov.
Footsteps sounded as the figure approached Mitchell's unconscious form. Target acquired. That was to perfect. The person chuckled. "Let's get going old friend"
A/N I gave you a hint there. Did you guys pick up on it? Anyway I updated! Dedicated to ssmanton42 for waking me up from my 'not updating' faze. Sorry for the minor descriptive details there with the wound. If I disgusted you sorry lol