Gunfire rose up and around, very briefly, like a distant cry for help. It was short, sharp and in small bursts. No voices. Then it fell silent again. A strange happening no doubt. A city in such ruins would not have seen such an outburst of action in quite sometime. This wasn't just one gun. It was a squad of them.

Again, they rose in volume, firing in bursts; short and sharp, before dying down. What was happening on the outskirts? A battle? A war? A slaughter?

The firing lay silent for some minutes, and then, there was a cry. Not from a gun, but this time from a man. A painful and high pitched scream of terror, before like the guns, the scream fell dead too. There was another final outburst of gun fire, before with the sound of a pistol shot, everything went stone dead quiet again.

What had just broken the sound of the gentle breeze? Surely no-one with weapons had any interest in coming so close to a city like such, and yet, the gunfire had indeed proven that someone had gotten close. Yet, had they gotten too close for their own comfort?

For some minutes, nothing rose up again, and the distant echoing of the shooting settled down. However, sound picked up again, as footsteps began to echo themselves down the abandoned city streets, bouncing back and forth off the walls. The owner of the steps ran, as hard as he could, his breath pounding off every broken door and window, his heart pounding in his ears. His helmet was scratched and his suit torn, but he didn't stop sprinting for his life, clutching a large rifle in his hands. Briefly, he turns back and looks down the street, before slowing his pace ever so slightly and sliding the gun round on its strap to his back. He closes his eyes, still running before breaking into a heavy, tired jog. Even that doesn't last much longer as he stumbles a few steps then falls to his knees, the buckles on his boots and suit jingling as he does, harmonically with his dogtags that are engraved,

"Cpt. Alexios Torez - 108th Airborne Squadron"

He pants heavily, resting his palms on the stone covered floor before quickly grabbing at the radio on his chest. He presses the button and calls out, his voice echoing for miles across the dead streets, "This is Captain Ale.." he suddenly stops and looks down at it. The device is smashed and useless. In a final burst of energy, he slams the device down to the ground and calls out, "Shit."

This last burst was his final amount of energy though, as he collapses on to his back, panting for air. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls a flare from the attachments on his sleeve, and lights it, the red smoke billowing up to alert any of his surviving team members of their captain's position.

That was the last thing he could manage to do though, as he sighs his final conscious breath of air, and loses his vision.