Dust mingling with the fog he dashed through, jumping over a mound of rubble, the sound of bullets whizzing past his ear almost deafening him as he squatted down catching his breath.

Looking at his bloody hands and clenching them to white knuckle fists banging on broken concrete.

“I-I can’t just run” he mumbled to himself

“Can’t run, can’t stay, can’t hide from them. There’s so much I fucking can’t do. What can I do!” Biting his fingers he scanned the rubble, eyes darting for something. Anything he could use against them.

Dropping into his knees and clutching his ears after a loud boom nearby.

“No guns, the smallest fucking knife imaginable!” Turning the knife towards himself he almost laughs at himself.

“Fuck… at least my friends died fighting, here I am thinking of just ending it…” footsteps drew closer along with spitting of guns.

Turning towards he sound he looked back at the knife, cutting himself before letting it bleed out, slumping over as the enemy finds him. Eyes rolled back, blood dried with dust on his forearm.

Poking at him with the ends of their guns one turns around while the other calls to others on their com device.

His eyes dart to the distracted enemy and the others back turned. Yanking the end of one’s gun before pulling himself up turning it and firing straight into their chest.

The other turned around readying their gun, firing at the proposed dead vigilante, using the dying man as a shield he fired at the second enemy nicking the shoulder before getting hit in the leg himself.

Exchanging bullets for moments more the enemy was down and he pulled the gun off both of them, taking the items from them to ready himself, tie up his bleeding leg and turn back to the roaring fire of war calling to him.

“I’m coming guys…” running back slightly limping, guns blazing.