44 45 54 4f 4e 41 54 49 4f 4e_FLOOD

The red light flashes faster. Something in the back of your head -- no, not Valerie, but an instinct, of sorts -- tells you to duck back into cover.

A faint clicking sound.

And then everything is ringing. The walls shake, dust on the ceiling showers down upon you. A bright flash -- not of lightning, but of something far more cruel -- appears in the hall, and the various papers and debris on the ground are rapidly kicked up in a concussive wave. The air smells of smoke, dust, and ... something worse. You rub your ears, groaning, attempting to shake free of the high-pitched whine. It slowly subsides, but is replaced with a different sound. Pain.

You peer down the hall again.

A giant hole is blown into the wall opposite where the red light was blinking. One of the two men is completely missing. The soles of his boots are all that's left, melted and glued to the floor from the extreme heat of the blast. Everything else of his is now a red paste. His companion is a few feet away, blown back closer to where you are now. He chokes and sputters, breath ragged and shaking. Both his legs are missing, one arm is twisted in a direction that it definitely shouldn't be in, and his other arm grasps weakly at his chest. His jacket has fused to his flesh. Instead of a pale, peach-colored face, it is a deep red, with blackened charred spots. He turns his head, his skin making a sickly crackling noise as it does so. He looks towards you, but has no eyes -- the concussive blast must have burst them. Just blood. He chokes again, blood spurting from his mouth.

Then, more footsteps. A figure approaches from the T-junction. They are clad in body armor, a helmet with a glowing visor covering their face. A rifle is slung over their shoulder. They produce a pistol and put the survivor out of his misery. The gunshot is loud, and once more your ears ring. The figure watches the body go still and glances around. You're peeking out carefully, and thankfully they don't spot you.

They produce a hand-held radio. "Two scavengers. One killed instantly. The other was alive, but wouldn't have lasted much longer. I put them down so I wouldn't have to listen to them moaning."

A voice crackles on the radio. You can't hear what it's saying.

"Alright. Still no sign of the target yet. I think they're still in the apartment complex across the street. I'll keep you posted. Over and out."

They slip the radio into a belt pouch and walk back down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

You shiver, looking at the grisly scene.

NOBO44Y W49LL H45LP YOU, 50REP41RE FOR 54HE WORST

Breathe. Breathe.

I'm back.

The ringing has stopped, but the sound of the blast and the finality of the gunshot still echoes in your head.

I'm here.

Shake it out. Don't think about it. Get past the bodies... or what's left of them... and get to the sniper. That's what matters. That's what these scavvers wanted to do. You can't bury them, not physically. But this is what they came here for. This is what they died for.

I know you can hear me.

You steady your breathing. Alright. You can do this. Let's go.

I'm not here to make you scared, no.

You hold your breath and sneak down the hall. You keep your eyes focused on the corner turn, not the grisly scene. Don't breathe in the smell. The air is still hot. A few embers flicker on the floor, the aftermath of the explosive's flash-heating effect. You grit your teeth. Your steps are silent, muffled by the blood.

Oh no, I like you.

The corner. No lights, no explosives. You're safe. You peer down the junction. Emptiness. Eyes, scanning, darting. No traps, no tricks, nothing to stop your progress. A door, at the end of the hall. Slightly ajar.

I think you've got guts.

Blood pounds in your ears. Your teeth grit harder. Steady your breathing. Steady, steady. In, out, in, out. Your grip tightens on the pistol. No, no, you won't kill. Maybe wound, but you won't stoop as low as killing. You're not like this bastard. You wouldn't kill in cold blood like that. No, you're better. You'll get him.

You've got anger in you.

You arrive at the door. The sniper is at the window. Rifle ready, looking out the window. Their radio buzzes again.

But it's not regular anger, no.

"Still no sign of them. Doubt they made it far. They woke up not that long ago, I doubt they're awake enough to make a move at me. I'll keep watch."

It's focused.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

More buzzing from the radio.

It's like a scalpel.

"Yeah, I'll set up another mine later. Maybe I'll hide it on the mostly intact one, just in case their friends try to search the body."

It's brutal, but not crude. It's refined. It's useful.

Buzzing.

I like it.

"Mhm. Over and out."

This sniper's been waiting for you.

Lightning flashes, thunder rumbles. The pipes in the walls rattle. The sniper mumbles something about it, but doesn't turn.

I can't wait for you to look them in the eyes as you kill them.

The door is open. The sniper has their back turned. Your breathing is steady, and your jaw hardened.

Oh, it'll be beautiful. I know you can do it.

Alright. Let's do this.

Let's do this.

HUNT. AIM. EX48ALE. BRAC45. SQUEEZE. KI4cL. RE50EAT.

You gently place a hand on the door. You wait for lightning, for thunder. As the thunder rumbles and the pipes rattle, you test the door. It doesn't creak. A smooth opening. Good. You won't need the thunder to mask the sound.