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"Are ... Are you a friend?" you ask. It's a silly question, but these are strange times.

You lean your back up against the wall. The soft green glow of your arm screen is enough to let you see the gun better. More images flash through your head. Guns. Explosions. Combat. Death. You wince, shaking your head in a vain attempt to remove the thoughts. As quickly as they came, they leave, and you examine the pistol again. You know how to operate it... you think. How? You've never held one before. And yet those images... thousands upon thousands, all in an instant, all of different people in different times, wielding a menagerie of firearms... and now you understand.

Carefully, your thumb activates the magazine release. The magazine drops out from the grip with a gentle skrrrit into your other palm. A bullet peeks out at the top of the magazine, brass and steel, lightly scratched.

<.45 ACP, and judging by the weight of the magazine in your hand, I sense a full 15 rounds.>

As Valerie speaks, the back of your head tingles. "Are you... in my arm? Or my head?"

You rub the back of your neck. Sure enough, there's a small metal 'chip', for the lack of a better word. It's warm to the touch. You let out a sigh, though you're not sure of relief or anxiety. With slightly shaking hands, you insert the magazine back into the gun. Another few flashes in your head, and you wince again. Yes, yes, it's loaded but not ready. Hands still shaking somewhat, you thumb the safety off and carefully pull the slide back. It clicks softly.

"So... where am I? What's going on with all the ... the rain, and me being shot at, and the blood?"

Valerie's voice crackles for a few moments, as though humming in thought.

You stand, taking in a few breaths. A flicker of lightning. The trail of blood, still slick on the ground, splatters and smears its way down the hallway, to a single open room at the end.

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"So... who am I?"

"S... Specimens?"

"By who? And for what?

Valerie hums again. Your eyes dart around the hall, slowly getting accustomed to the darkness. You spot bullet holes in the wall, and a few empty bullet casings that glint in the lightning.

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"Experience?"

"Right... right, that makes sense," you lie. You shuffle ever closer to the open door. "So how do I get experience?"

"Yeah, from across the road. The holes their bullets left behind... I don't want to see them in me, that's for sure."

Ah, great. As if anything thus far has been wonderful to see or hear. You inch ever closer to the open room at the end of the hall, tip-toeing around the blood trail. "Just... say it."

"So what you're saying is..." you press your back up against the wall. The doorway is right next to you.

You peek your head in. The room is cloaked in shadow, the blood trail snaking into inky blackness. Then, lightning flashes.

There are two bodies, each slumped against the wall. The blood trail leads to the one on the left, who has severe wounds to their lower body. They must have been dragged in here by someone. Possibly the other person... but they're both dead. Their clothes are ragged and stained.

Bullet holes, clean through the temple. The body on the right has a revolver resting in their limp hand. There is no terror on their faces, just resigned acceptance.

And above them, as lightning flashes again, you see words.

THE HEADHUNTERS ARE HERE

GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN

IF YOU HAVE TO DIE

DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HEAD INTACT

Scrawled in blood. Fresh, still dripping slightly. You notice the fingers of the man holding the revolver. They're soaked in blood, as though he wrote the message himself. And it's not all you see. All across the walls, even on the floor and ceiling, are more words...

help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help help

You pull your head out, breathing heavily. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Valerie hums.