Well, I've been laying off this hoping for more people to read the last part, but whatever. Oh, and I am currently playing RE5, but don't expect to see too much from the game in here. But I love the game!

Two men, standing in front of several sheets of metal meshed together like the scales of a fish. They appear to just be staring off into space, and at maximum zoom, I can see that they have the red eyes of someone whose soul left long ago. If my emotions still existed after all of these years of killing, I would feel sorry for the people here, but I can't. Not now. I hold my breath and squeeze off one shot. The 7.62mm round shatters its way through even the reinforced skull and shreds the infected man's brain matter. His stunned friend receives the same treatment. Not bad shooting from two hundred feet with a suppressed weapon.

I stand and run to the sheetmetal with the space between it that passes as an entryway. I switch to my Mk23 and pass through, sweeping the small intersection of alleyways, seeing it to be clear. I look at my GPS and see that there is a small BSAA station marked on my map and head towards it by the path to my left. As I come to another intersection, a woman unexpectedly rounds the corner. I stop, lowering my weapon, about to speak, when she turns. The blood on her face and her snarl upon seeing me tell me she won't give me her phone number. I raise my weapon again, cursing myself for letting my guard down and squeeze off a double tap. As her death rattle escapes her lips, I hear more cries from around the corner. I bet her boyfriend was pissed. I run past the intersection and six men follow hot on my trail from the paths on my left and right.

Sprinting the whole way, I occasionally turn around to squeeze off a shot in their direction, hoping to at least slow them down. Finally, I see the BSAA station ahead of me, asquat,white,concrete edifice,boarded up against intruders. Well, I'm not about to take that **** I aim and squeeze off six shots, the remainder of my magazine into the sheet of plywood blocking the window directly in front of me. The holes are well spaced, allowing the plywood to soften enough for me to plow through it into the station. I roll and turn around to cover the window, reloading as I turn. Strangely, the people have left me. But if anything, the quiet only makes my adrenaline pump harder.