“Now, I would very much like to know where Pyroshark is.” Corbec continued. “Go to hell.” Corbec folded his arms, thinking. “How are the living conditions here?” “What?” “The living conditions, how are they here? As good as the weather?” Corbec pointed at a gap in the canopy. The rain had stopped during the night, and now the sky was a dazzlingly clear blue. Squirrel Dude only now realised he was incredibly disoriented. Last that he knew, it was pouring with rain and the middle of the night. “Well?” “Um… They’re good in the bunkers, and OK in the villages. I can’t say that there’s anything wrong with them at all, really.” Corbec nodded. Squirrel Dude knew where Corbec was going with this. He was trying to find particular problem and exploit it, then follow up with a hollow promise of better conditions, vast sums of money or even a pardon for his activities. But Squirrel Dude had come straight back with nothing for Corbec to work on. He was surprised, though, when Corbec switched around to a totally different point entirely. “Alright, sod all this. I’m going to make a deal with you. You, my friend, are going to lead us to where Pyroshark is. When you’ve done so, we’ll let you go.” “You’ll what? Seriously?” “Yes, we will. You can go back to your people.” “I trust you about as far as I can spit you.” “You have my word.” The truth was, Squirrel Dude only knew the last location Pyroshark had been at. The largest and most secure of all the bunkers on the island. There were no guarantees that he would still be here, and Squirrel Dude knew for a fact that it was the most heavily guarded. Of course, Pyroshark had his habit now of popping up anywhere, so Squirrel Dude wasn’t sure if he was still there, but he saw it as a good risk to take. He’d lure the Floodians into the best chance the Forsaken would have at trapping them, then run off to get help. “Then we have a deal.” [i]Four Hours Later.[/i] Squirrel Dude dropped dead to the floor. His mouth was gaping open, eyes glassy and dead, and that came with a spectacularly large crater in his forehead where Girly Spartan’s bullet had exited his body. “Bravo! Bravo! Excellent shot indeed!” Corbec said, lowering a pair of binoculars, which he handed back to JS, the original owner. Girly Spartan beamed a radiant smile. To be praised by the Emperor himself was a pleasure that few ever received, yet her smile wasn’t true, and being an expert liar, Corbec noticed this. “What’s wrong? You pasted the bastard cleanly from what range?” “Only about eighty metres.” Girly modestly admitted. “What went wrong then?” “I wanted to hit him in the back of the neck, but I got more at the back of his head, instead.” She sighed. The silenced shot had been an expertly aimed one, but already Girly was becoming something of a perfectionist. “So, why did we toy with him again?” JS asked. “After all, we knew where Pyroshark was anyway.” JS was referring to the satellites watching Pyroshark’s movements around the island. He had gone missing despite their constant scrutiny until recently, when a satellite spotted him entering a bunker complex. He also had yet to leave it via the front door, so unless there was an underground way to reach another bunker, he hadn’t gone anywhere. “Well, you can’t tell me that toying with people like that isn’t fun, can you?” Corbec said. “No, but-” “Then there’s your answer! Anyway, are we ready to get this started off with?” Corbec, Girly and JS096 stood together amid the dense jungle surrounding the bunker position that Pyroshark was supposed to be cowering in. A dirt road, rutted with tyres that had churned it into mud from the recent rains, sat to their left. It ran all the way up the side of the island’s tallest hill, which was something more akin to a small mountain. The soil was rocky and tough, but still the hardy jungle foliage bloomed, providing the perfect screen for the Floodians to hide behind as they advanced. The road they had followed on Squirrel Dude’s instructions took a left turn a little further on, and cunningly hidden in a sheer rock face was the main bunker entrance. A solid Titanium bulkhead door, that looked for all the world like just more of the rock face, was flanked on both sides by two masterfully concealed gun nests. Made out of logs and trunks harvested from nearby trees, they were draped with camouflage netting, fallen tree branches, and other foliage. The effect was quite convincing. Had they not known where to look, or had the benefit of spy satellites on their side, they might not have known it was there. On either side of the road, the surviving Floodian volunteers awaited the order to strike. However, the time wasn’t right. The Floodians weren’t sure as to what was inside the gun nests, but they wanted them dealt with quietly, that much was certain. Girly Spartan took aim with her Walther 2000 again, grumbling about various things impacting her ability to work. She took a breath in, and became as still as a statue in her crouched position. She didn’t blink, but focused intently on her work. Staring down the scope of her rifle, she noticed two “shuffles” of movement within the first gun nest. She waited for the shuffles-most likely people-to move again, and give her a good idea of where they were. They shifted slightly, and she fired once, the silencer ensuring a barely audible whisper and scoring a confirmed hit, then another, provoking a yelp of pain. “Damn! I must have missed!” She cried, looking to Corbec and JS. “Take aim again! Look!” JS said, observing through his binoculars. Two Forsaken militiamen had tentatively emerged from the second gun nest in response to the yelp. One was walking over to the first impromptu bunker, pistol drawn, and the other was cautiously poking his head out for a better look. Girly didn’t wait for orders and wasted the man peeking out of the gun nest with a headshot. The last Forsaken wheeled around, terrified, then headed for the hidden doorway into the main bunker. “Wait one moment.” JS warned. Girly’s trigger finger relaxed slightly. The man seemed to be fiddling with something, though his torso blocked all view. Then, the bulkhead door swung open. “Now!” JS hissed. Girly pulled the trigger and the militiaman’s brains painted the scenery. “Everyone! Move up! Head for that entrance and eliminate all threats.” Corbec ordered. His AK47 was slung over a shoulder, and he finished screwing a silencer onto his pistol. JS joined him, the silencer already attached to his M4 machinegun. Corbec was able to stow his AK now because the camera was no longer attached to it. By now, everyone was entitled to a little customisation of their equipment. For example, Corbec used some extra tape to secure his old camera to one side of his newly-acquired helmet, and his bright red bandana was tied around the other. (Of course, Corbec’s favourite, battered pair of sunglasses still shielded his eyes.) JS had a small belt of ammunition looped around his helmet-to match those around his torso-and Girly Spartan kept a tally of her kills in pen marks on her own helmet. The Floodians secured the entrance without incident, finding that none of the enemy had survived Girly’s handiwork. They looked to Corbec and JS for their next move. “Alright everyone, this could well be it. The viper Pyroshark is cowering inside this very complex. Your actions are being watched with pride by your countrymen, and will go down in the annals of history as some of the finest acts our country has ever accomplished. I’m proud to have worked with you.” Corbec looked at the group. They were clearly moved by his brief speech, being the patriotic saps and easily bought over retards they were. He flashed them a roguish smile which, though fake, was extremely convincing. It was the type that made men respect him and ladies want him. “But remember: If you’re the last one standing, you’re not fighting hard enough.” He nodded to JS. “OK, two people hold up here, watch our backs and prevent any escapes. Everyone else, make sure silencers are affixed, and form up on me to enter. We’re to sweep and clear each level. Make sure there are no survivors.” JS ordered. He secretly wanted no-one left alive to talk of his involvement with the Forsaken. If anyone got out with that news, his career-and his life-was over. With that, the eleven Floodians not watching the entrance or already dead advanced inside.