He's never loved and hated so much at the same time. The pain he'd acclimatized to, at least to some degree, but it was the mental aspect that was the hardest. His whole body is shaking with effort and frustration and a myriad of emotions and it's only magnified by the pain.

He's bleeding and then, just lower, is the same harshness. It blossoms red almost immediately as Mike's entire body jerks forward, unable to keep himself up for much longer. He yells loudly, sharply, the sound echoing across the walls and only barely manages to remember.

"Thirteen, sir." It's strained, though it's hard to tell if the strain is from anger or pain or the desperate need to come. It's all three of them to some degree, and his legs feel like they're made out of lead, though he forces himself to get back into position. His left leg gives out but he's scrambling to put himself upright again, panting with the effort. HE can't take much more.