There was no other way to put it. Clay was scared. He was terrified. The boom came from nowhere and shook the whole building. Hard. At first, he thought the missile hit the building, but then he fell through the hole and down to the collapsed basement. Ray was yelling his name and for a few moments he couldn't breathe.

"Spenser! Come on man! You hear me?" Ray yelled down to his fallen friend. He saw his body drop and quickly realized how screwed they were. Ray was worried about the kid, but also about the mission and his other teammates.

"Spenser!-" Ray continued to yell.

Feeling came back all at once and Clay rushed some words out of his mouth, "I'm good.. go... I'll meet you in a bit." He didn't even know what he was saying, but Clay could not let himself fuck up this mission.

"Alright, you better be up here soon" Ray squashed down his worry and went to the other building. Jason needed him, his team needed him.

Clay was holding in his breath until he heard Ray leave. He let out a grunt of pain and some ragged pants as he tried to devise a plan to get the hell out of this hole. Clay went to stand up and could not. He felt serious pain. His knee and leg was being crushed by a slab of concrete. The pain was so intense and sudden that Clay felt dizzy.

Dread showered him as he realized that he would not be getting out of this hole without some help. He grabbed his comm to call for help, but he heard nothing.

"Brave six to Bravo one..." Nope, not even static, "FUCK! " No one was coming. He had to get himself out of here. Pissing Hayes off worried Clay more than the predicament he was in. He could not let the man down. He needed to earn his respect.

Looking around from his compromised position on the floor. Clay realized he needed something to wedge under the slab of concrete. He sent an imaginative thank you to Mrs. O'Hearn, his 6th grade science teacher, who taught him about levers. With no other choice, Clay grabbed his rifle. He first tried with the butt of the gun and eventually he was able to raise the concrete just enough to slide out.

Relief flooded him and his fears of being trapped lessened. Clay could feel everything as sat up and dragged his bruised body against a wall. He was covered in grim. He could feel the grit in his teeth and his uniform was stained dark with dirt and oil.

"no no no." Clay whispered into the darkness as he touched his leg. It wasn't oil, it was blood. His leg was bleeding heavily. Before he could try to stem the flow, Clay heard footsteps and they weren't friendlies. The men spoke in Pashto. He understood clips of the conversation and realized his team was in danger.

The ammo fell through the cracks right next to him when the men dropped it. Clay stood up fast in a panic. He had to bite his tongue to stop from screaming out in pain. His leg hurt so bad that his vision swam to the side, but he shoved himself into the shadows and hid.

Clay reached for his backup gun because his rifle was cracked in half. He tried to steady the arm holding his glock. He pointed it at the ammo where one of the men was making their way towards it. He knew his aim would be off and firing the gun would lead to his sudden death.

In that moment, he prayed to anything that would listen. Ironic because Clay didn't believe in God. The man grabbed the ammo joking with his buddies about how they were going to blow up the Americans. Once the man made his way out of the hole, Clay knew he had to warn his team.

His vision had still not fixed itself and Clay's leg was on fire, but he needed to tell Ray. Trying to think like Macgyver, Clay grabbed his rifle's laser scope. He shone it through the hole to try and warn Ray about the impending danger. He shone it for a few minutes, until standing became to much of a feat and he had to sit down. He hoped they got the message and his team was safe.

The rocket launcher went off and he worried for his team. He leaned against the rubble and waited. He would give himself 30 minutes until the men left. If the team did not come to get him, then he would get himself out of this damned hole or die trying.

The men celebrated their victory and Clay refused to believed that they had anything to be victorious about. Still, fear ate at him. He was so tired, but his adrenaline was thankfully pumping, not allowing him to fully fall asleep.

He dozed off into a pain filled concussive state. Gunshots. His eyes snapped open and his training took over as he shot up, gun ready.

Activity kicked up the dust at the opening of the hole. "Eagle Eagle."

Clay yelled repeatedly. His gun trained on the shadow.

At those words, Hayes breathed a sigh of relief. The kid was alive. He popped his head in and his hand out. "Let's go home kid."

Clay's knees went weak when he saw Hayes. He grabbed the hand and allowed his body to be hauled from the hole.

Once out, Clay could see he was covered in blood. Ray immediately jumped into action. "What's wrong? Are you hit?" He was patting him down frantically. Hayes was checking his eyes for a concussion and his full body weight was against Sonny.

Clay could hardly respond. He felt the pain and the exhaustion as he used up his last ounce of adrenaline. "I'm good. Jus' the leg." With that, his body pitched forward and he passed out.