The plan was insane. They both knew it. But there was no other option.
So Civilian ran into the darkness with the radio strapped to his side, knowing that every step took him closer not just to danger, but maybe to the inevitable end.
He took a deep breath. No mask this time. He had taken it off.
The air inside the building was foul, thick with mold, dust, and something rotting he chose not to identify. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, with nothing to hide his scent, he smelled like prey.
“Get ready. It’s moving!” crackled the radio at his hip.
He froze. Ears straining. His heart pounded like a drum. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but he’d recognize it when it came.
He was right.
Heavy footfalls thundered down the corridor. No stealth, no hesitation, this thing knew it had the advantage.
No more waiting.
He ran.
Didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. He felt it behind him, too close. Not running. Charging.
The soldier’s voice barked in his earpiece, urging him on, but Civilian barely registered it. All he could focus on now was the rope. One chance to grab it. Miss, and he’d be nothing but a smear five stories down.
Now.
He jumped. His fingers closed around the rope.Teeth clenched.The coarse fibers burned his palms, but he held on. He swung. Below him, the jumbo-sized nightmare shot past, unable to stop, its momentum carrying it over the edge. A shriek. A crash. Silence.
Civilian dangled, trembling from exhaustion. But alive.The radio crackled, reminding him someone was still out there, waiting.
“It’s all yours,” he panted.
“The path is clear.”
He kicked to build momentum and swung himself to solid ground, rolling over the railing and collapsing, forehead against his arm, lungs dragging in breath. Then he reached for the radio again.
“It’s done. I’m out of here. See you up top.”
But there was no reply. The silence stretched too long.
Then: “Hell of a job,” the soldier’s voice rasped.
“Now get out of here. Far as you can. And promise me you survive, because I left you my tags in your pocket. Don’t forget—someone’ll come for them someday.”
Click.
Radio silence.
“Soldier?”
Nothing.
“Goddamn it... SOLDIER?!”
Nothing but static.
With shaking fingers, Civilian reached into his pocket and there it was. Cold metal.He hadn’t even noticed him slipping it in.The truth settled like a weight in his chest: Soldier had known.He never planned to make it back.
Civilian sat there, staring at the tag, unsure what he was supposed to feel. Anger? Grief? Gratitude? Maybe all of it. Maybe none.
But one thing he knew for certain:
He had to keep his promise. He had to survive.
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