For co-op with Cedric.

Running... What is definition of the word. Fleeing. Being cowardly. Or moving forward with a purpose. Jay was doing all three. He was moving forward with a purpose, fleeing cowardly from a horrible fate. Jay was the last survivor of the 239th Infantry battalion. The 239th was a force to be reckoned with. Whenever they were assigned to a mission, it was already assumed it would be completed. But this mission went horribly wrong. The Separatists' had ambushed them in a field near Fort A'den. The Separatist's had hit them with ATT's and a weapon... A new weapon of mass destruction. It had wiped his battalion out. They had been creamed. "Fierfick, I'm tired." He said to himself. He hadn't slept in two days. If anything he slept only for 45 minutes anyway. There was only one thing keeping him conscious. His Sargent's last words. "Get to Fort Kom'rk. Tell them Karhack succeeded." With that, his Sargent died. Those words kept him going. Through all the pain, and fatigue, he kept going. With sudden alarm, his head jerked. He realized he had fallen asleep. "Shab, I need a stim." He said, pulling out a syringe. Without warning, he injected it into his neck. Wincing in pain, he unleashed a slur of unsavory curses. "KARK, THAT STINGS!" He said, smacking the log he had been sitting on. Stims. They hurt like hell, but they got the job done. "What time is it?" He asked himself. He lifted up his chrono and almost fainted. It was four in the morning. No wonder he was so kriffing tired. But he couldn't rest now, he had to keep going. He groaned as he lifted himself off of his resting spot and picked up his pack. Fort Kom'rk was only 30 miles from here. The sooner he got there the better. There was a couple of obstacles in his way, but he needed to get to Kom'rk soon. For his Sargent, he would go for him. With that he picked up his pack and started walking....