And then began the distant bursts of gunfire that echoed all around from both ends of the exit. She jumped back and reached for her right hip instinctively, and it served another debilitating reminder how empty that area was with nothing slung or holstered. Several fire fights she had endured, and this would be the first potential encounter with nothing but her bare, exposed self.

“Dorm hallway One-A contained!” a gruff male’s voice shouted as her sense of hope suddenly sparked. “Checking for room one oh four!”

Heavy yet careful footsteps plodded closer, each with easily sensed urgency. She couldn’t help but call out for help, fighting off her sense of exposure attempting to lead her back under the fallen bunk. “This is Samantha Knight! Of one-oh-four! I’m alright!” she shouted, remembering just now to check herself for any cuts or bruises, finding nothing more than scrapes and dust.

The soldier appeared around the corner, followed closely by another who kept his six. “Pilot accounted for!” he shouted into his headset as he extended his hand. From his opened glove she could tell from every inch there up to his helmet and color-coding that he was from the PMC (private military company) Hexa had been hiring for almost a year, and he was decked out in as much gear as you’d expect from someone more of an NAU or EU-level military grade.

She without hesitation ran forward and took grab of his hand as he returned the reassuring grip, unable to make eye contact through his helmet’s visor, but she felt too much relief to care. Now I just need to ask about everyone else and if they’re OK! Knowing they would have the facilities floorplans down like the back of their hand afforded her the opportunity to come up with a way to make such request on the fly. Maybe they-

“-RPG!” the other soldier still in the hallway roared, before she felt herself yanked down to the ground with sudden, ligament straining force.

Another explosion knocked the wind out of her yet again as more dust and debris was violently thrown their way, and whatever chance she had to breathe back in immediately after was cut short by the soldier falling over her. Several coughs later along with a struggle to catch her breath, she could tell the soldier wasn’t as well off. His groaning in pain, although muffled through a closed mouth, was intense.

She gave up on her attempt to negotiate her way out from underneath him and instead focused on what she could see in front of her, and after a few seconds she noticed several holes shredded through the back of his thigh and up to near his waist. He squirmed as he tried to get up, unable as his collective joints were out of commission.

As he continued to force the impossible, more blood poured out, bringing back more nightmare images Sam had tried to forget. She remembered feeling blood splatter across her face as it sprung out from Ms. Sur’s neck after trying to cover for their escape. She remembered how paralyzed she felt that instant, and it mirrored how she felt now in this different yet similar circumstance. She could do something for him, or for the both of them, but what? And there was so much bleeding and signs of blinding pain.

Her world started to spin, too, just like last time. Dizziness. Queasiness.

“Nuñez!” he finally managed to shout out through clenched teeth, looking over his shoulder as best as he could. “Nuñez!” he again shouted in vain towards his silenced partner just on the other side of the wall out in the hallway. “Damn it! Motherfuckers!” He finally put his strength into his arms to roll over, leaving Sam now free to get up and out of the way, unknowing her inability to do such. He then reached for his pistol holstered just over his left leg as he heard several footsteps rushing their way.

She never knew what it was like to wear the helmets they did, but it gave them something of a heads up as the first two shots had her immediately covering her ears and curling up in fear, letting out an incidental shriek as the first approaching figure was taken down through the wall. Whoever it was had plopped down like a ragdoll right into the doorway as the PMC soldier continued firing through the wall, but this time his shots were not the only ones. Several sailed back in their direction, and as a few zinged over her head, one went right up the soldier’s area just under his exposed armpit.

She didn’t need blood on her this time to hear that same sound once more, putting the death grip her fear had on her sense of reality even tighter. That sound only meant one thing, and she was too afraid to turn and look as the soldier gurgled and sputtered as he tried to breathe through the uncontrolled coughing spurts.

The feelings of blacking out encroached on her vision rapidly as her heart beat out of her chest. Her hands and feet were numb, violently quivering in place. She desperately wanted to get up and run but couldn’t find a single muscle to comply.

And then the sounds of more feet approaching rapidly served as a final warning that it was move or die right there on the floor of her dorm room, a room where she was supposed to have felt safer than anywhere else in the city. And as she finally had another flashback jump in to take the place of those that were focused on watching the blood of others spilled, the memory of finding the working motor skills to aim and squeeze a trigger roared back. She rolled over and grabbed the only grip she could see with her limited vision: it was a heavy, just below standard length rifle she had only perhaps seen once or twice in movies, and it was it was mounted to a single-point bungee sling, barely allowing her to pull it her way and press it up against her shoulder at a low angle.

Come on, damn it! She struggled to pull the barrel over enough to get it into view of the hallway door, but with a third effort she was able to see the bright glow of a reticle suddenly come into view. And as the bright red double-circle was now filled with an all-camo wearing figure turning the corner, she didn’t think twice to pull the trigger before he could pull his own weapon’s sights over her head.

**BDA-DA-DAH!!!**

The standard three-shot burst ripped out from the rifle, dropping the figure over his former squad mate, and cueing Sam to make a proper run for it while her adrenaline was serving more positively than not. Without any chance for proper thought, she rolled back towards the dying PMC soldier and reached over to unhook the sling from the foregrip mount. And with that same motion, she hobbled awkwardly over to the edge of the door frame, shouldered the rifle once more, propped her back up against the frame, then used it to support her as she leaned over.

She saw two more no more than five meters out near the end of the connecting hallway, prompting her to pull the barrel over to line up the reticle and squeeze the trigger over and over. She couldn’t even breathe right anymore, only able to hear the ringing of her ears and nothing else as her pummeled shoulder rang out in pain. She didn’t even realize the rifle was out of rounds, only that the hallway was now clear aside from the clouds of dust.

She didn’t even know how much time had passed before her hyperventilating came to somewhat of a pause, just enough to realize her Underground’s communication device going off in her pocket that she had forgotten she ever put there to begin with.

“Sam, are you OK!? Respond!” Devin’s voice shouted the second she clicked on the button with her freed left hand.

It took a few seconds to come up with the focus to get anything out of her locked up throat. “N-not now! Not now!” She took her hand off the communicator, gasping for air, and finally realized the folly of sitting where she lay. She scooted over back into the room, looking back and forth haplessly until her eyes set gaze upon the still PMC soldier who saved her life initially. His body laid motionless, face to the floor. Wincing, her gaze fell to her feet, where she took a long, unwanted look the bodies of the two dead intruders.

The armor, Sam, the gear… their weapons… the magazines…

The selfish, beyond insensitive thoughts sickened her even more, but they kept repeating themselves over and over as she inched closer. She could now hear more voices approaching, and the words weren’t in English. Another look down, and she realized at the very worst she could avoid defiling her late rescuer’s body and instead take from those a little bit closer to her body height and breadth. The one closest to her had a still-leaking hole in his head she avoided eye contact with at all costs, focusing only on finding his armor rig’s quick-release tabs. And by the time she finished fitting it to herself a minute later, she didn’t think to grab anything but what was already right there in front of her, and she immediately felt the further added weight of the rifle that looked nothing like anything she had ever seen in person or perhaps even in movies.

This has to work, she thought as the voices grew closer. She shouldered it despite the horribly awkward front-heavy nature of the rifle and mounted herself to the door frame, but this time to the one in front of her as she waited once more. But the footsteps never approached despite the time she afforded herself to prepare. Gunshots in the distance continued as the shouting continued, triggering her to rethink her situation.

If anything, this means I have a chance to take another route out of here. Going towards that direction seems like it’s walking into a deathtrap. Maybe I should go the back way.

She eased her way into the hallway, optic pointed down the hallway with no bodies in sight. She then snapped around and took off back the other direction and towards the door that would lead her to the courtyard from earlier. After busting through and turning a hard right to take herself back around towards the directors’ offices, she could now hear other running footsteps besides her own. One more corner quickly came up that she knew she’d have to take another turn at, unable to determine if those were more PMC soldiers or intruders. But as she approached that very corner, another coming around from the opposite side let her know which one using the butt end of a rifle stock to her head.

The blow was a glancing one, only managing to knock her balance off enough so that the ensuing collision of their bodies sent her falling backward.

**BDA-DA-DA-DA-DAH!!**

Her rifle was no longer square on her shoulder, but she squeezed the trigger anyway while fruitlessly fighting the rifle’s violent bucking upward. After expending those five shells, it immediately seized up as a mixed reaction of confusion and panic took over, only to quickly fade with her assailant falling down right next to her, yelling out in pain. Her eyes inadvertently darted right towards the hand he was gripping, noting she had shot off part of his right hand, setting off the escape reflex as she backed up, feet scuffling until she could stand up. She shouldered her rifle once more before remembering it had jammed up. Hands trembling furiously, she freed her left hand from the foregrip and searched for anything to clear it, not having any knowledge of handling cased weaponry.

The assailant at the floor below her managed to look up to see her frightened return gaze and started to crawl away back to the corner from where he had come from. His weapon had fallen to the side, but he elected not to force any move he’d regret, hoping to get away with his life and the rest of his body intact.

Sam finally caught sight of a charge handle at the upper left side in front of the receiver, noting it was halfway engaged. Without thought, she started jerking at it, taking several strong but futile attempts to get it to move. But with one last all-out attempt along with a shout of desperation, it moved back all the way, snapping back to the return position as a case was ejected and flung forward.

And with a huge breath, she rounded the corner and swung the reticle of the mounted sight over the back of the retreating assailant, squeezing the trigger without hesitation.

The rush of adrenaline fueled by her sheer determination to survive rivaled that of what she experienced vs Revenant the other day. Without a moment to spare for calculating her next move, reflexes and instinct, what little there was that could apply to the situation, commanded her every move by this point. After the last casing of her spent rounds hit the tile floor below, movement well down the hallway had her change direction and head down a different hallway than planned.

She squeezed into a cutout where a pair of restroom doors stood beside her, allowing her to catch her breath even if just for a moment, trying desperately to listen for footsteps over the thumping of her heart that beat with an intensity as if it were seated between her ears. And with those passing seconds, her frenzy of scattered thoughts finally settled on one option: the communication device. Devin had tried to contact her earlier, and perhaps it was something her life might depend on.

“Devin!” she whispered through her panting, but it was the response that would spook the last of her gathered senses out.

“Sam!” Al quickly responded through the device. “Where are you! Are you alright?!”

Wh… Dad?! What the hell are you doing with Devin’s communicator?!

The first thoughts to mind were that either Devin had surrendered himself for God knows what reason, or that her father had been a part of the operation. The latter, however, drew a stronger reaction as she found the breath to respond:

“Dad! Wha-why!? How?!”

“OK, you’re fine- that’s a good thing! Now! Get to the hangar as soon as you can! I will be waiting for you there!”

Her breathing rate continued to escalate. “Huh!? Dad, what’s going on!?”

“Don’t-! Look, calm down! Don’t say anything else to give your position away and just focus on moving! Alright! We are moving out, too!”

We?! Who is with him?! What the fuck is going on!?