[i]The figure on the ground was not a man, rather, a teenager, and inside the armor, he seemed to be in one piece. The armor itself, however, was going to need work. The woman beside JJ set her medical bag aside, and set about releasing his dented helmet.[/i] Where is the release, monsieur? [i]She asked calmly. She sounded like she was a trained professional when it came to being a medic. If JJ knew much about military training, she displayed textbook performance for a field medic. [/i] Under the right side, by the collar. [i]the kid replied, voice still flickering between his normal and that which was distorted and robotic.[/i] [i]She reached to the area he described, and she pulled the tiny release switch, the helmet opening with a mechanical his. He reached forwards on his own and pulled it off, tossing it to the ground next to him. Breathing heavily, he had a nice shiner on his eye, the bruise continuing to his cheek. He was moderately tanned, his hair a mess, covering his ears. His eyes, despite the rest of him, shined with a mischievous and rather bright aura. The woman spoke as he leaned back again.[/i] Please, stay still. I do not wish to hurt you. [i]Her voice carried a soft, yet distinct French accent. She was very fair-skinned, her hair a light, light shade of blonde, her eyes a steely blue, expressing concern. [/i] Look, I'm fine... I'm ok.... [i]He protested rather weakly, out of breath and hurting pretty bad from where the rounds had struck his back from Wilson's minigun.[/i] You're lucky to be alive. He does not normally let people live.... Which leaves me wondering why he did not kill you. [i]She said.[/i]