[Mercy] Failure To Communicate

[John Doe]

The entire facility was alive with vigor and gusto as waves of militia ran down the halls towards Section D. For the first time since they have arrived, these volunteer soldiers were finally in red alert. Some faces flashed with fear of an upcoming battle, others twitched in anticipation. Regardless of the individual feelings of these troops, they moved as a single huddled mass towards their target. The war was about to hit them, right then, right there, whether they were ready or not.

"...damn..."

Leading the pack of militia was a grizzled, orange-skinned humanoid. He raised his fist up as he stopped his pace, promptly crouching to his knees. Following suit, the remainder of his unit skidded to a halt as well. As soon as they stopped their hustle, the militiamen could overhear someone muttering down the hall.

"...ou've...idding me!"

The militia group's leader, the orange-skinned sergeant, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small photograph. The picture was taken on one of the many security cameras positioned around the station. It showed a black-haired, suit wearing asshole. He was smiling towards the camera as he free hand was positioned in front of himself, his fuck finger extended. The other hand was busy grasping a pistol that shot deadly at the militia in the background. Several soldiers laid face down on the floor around the smiling maniac. The sergeant crumpled the photo with his fist and stuffed it back into his pants pocket. The enemy was clear.

Turning back to face his men behind him, he raised his hand up in the air. He pointed towards two soldiers closest to him, then struck his index and middle finger out and trust his hand towards his eyes. Military code for "Watch my back." The grizzled vet turned back to the front, where he knew the target was waiting. He inched forward, still on his knees, doing his best not to make too much noise. He reached the corner of the hallway. The dug into his pocket yet again and pulled out a small mirror. It was a bit of a cliché, but it was effective. He placed the mirror on his combat knife with some string, and slowly peaked it over the side.

Doe was crotched over a militiaman's corpse, lazily digging through the man's belongings. After a few seconds, he violently shoved the corpse away, visibly pissed. "I've capped off dozens of these guys, and none of them have any fucking cigarettes!" Doe shot back up to an upright position, resorting to kicking the uncaring body in frustration.

The sergeant watched silently from his corner. He wasn't very keen on watching this vagabond desecrating his comrades, but he was a professional. Always strike when the time was right. The old soldier was just waiting for his target to slip up, to make one false move. Patience.

After a few minutes of waiting, the old sergeant got his chance. Doe pulled out his pistol and examined it for a moment. The shades wearing man then removed the magazine from his weapon to check the ammo. The sergeant acted, springing out from his hiding spot. Rifle poised, he took aim and fired a single round. The bullet struck Doe's pistol, making it fly from his hand and down the hallway, still littered with fallen soldiers. Two more militiamen rounded the corner as well, and all three men aimed their weapons at Doe. The orange-skinned sergeant coolly grunted to Doe. "Game over, come in quietly."

"Oh, there's more of ya. Great!" Seemingly unaffected by his odds, he grinned towards the trio of soldiers. "Listen, do any of you have some smokes? I could kill for a cig right now." The three soldiers stood steady, unflinching at his request. His smile slowly faded as more soldiers massed up behind the trio, and Doe was staring at a force three dozen strong. He exhaled through his, black smoke escaping through his nostrils. He looked behind himself and started speaking again. "No? Then how about we play a game?" He balled up his free hand into a fist, fire forming around it. "It's called 'Catch.'"

Doe threw the magazine up towards the huddle. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as every member of their ranks watched the cartridge fly towards them. They didn't take notice that Doe had his fiery arm extended. "Catch." A orb of flame emerged from his arm and towards the crowed group of soldiers. The narrow hallway trapped them like rats as the fireball hit the clip of bullets. The explosion instantly engulfed the orange-skinned sergeant, as the rest of his men flew off in all directions. The entire building shook and the walls around the soldiers bent and split out. Doe admired his destruction from afar, nodding in approval as a heap of rumble came into view from the smoke.

A cocky grin returned to Doe's face once more. "Don't hate the player, hate the game!" With that, Doe walked down the hallway, picked up his gun, and went on his way.