1 Entrance at Zevrin

The concrete jungle of Zevrin lied in ruins. Its streets were litered with spent bullets, corpses of bandits, ruined cars, and the conditions of the city were ruined by the rain of artillery. Once belonging to a long dead republic, it was the home of numerous nomads and what was the populace of the dead nation. An average day here was being shot.

"Aah," sighed a bandit, relieving himself as a yellow stream hit the concrete. Finishing up he zipped his pants and went on his merry way. With a wave of the hand he confirmed to his fellow bandits that he was well. "Idiot." Muttered one, tracking his friend with a hunting scope. The small rifle he carried only had 5 bullets in it, all 7.62 bullets. They were well aware of the more advanced rifles, his was a mere bolt-action rifle but knowing the neighborhood and its hiding spot had its major advantages.

Or so he thought, before a burst of bullets had entered his friend's thorax.

"No!" He screamed, quickly turning his scope to the area that the bullets came. All he saw was another building. A sizable hole in it and plenty of windows. He tried remembering the sounds of the gunfire, trying to think what type of gun they used. "Crap .."

Plenty of bullets came to his previous position, finally he was able to remember the gunfire. Goverment issued rifles. He merely waited in the corner, waiting for the gunfire to stop so he could take his chance. He counted two rifles, a fireteam? He hoped it was only a fireteam. It didn't seem the bullets didn't stop soon, they kept coming and coming ..

When the noise finally stopped, he took the opportunity. Running back to his previous position he raised the scope to his eye, finger quickly going to the trigger ..

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

His back felt heavy, blood coming out of his mouth. He could only think what went wrong before his eyes curled up. His body falling hard to the floor.

"How many bullets wasted for one guy?" Asked operative Sarbuk, lowering his rifle.

"We couldn't risk. Check him." Commanded operative Raylan.

Sarbuk groaned as he digged through the bandits small belongings, only managing to scrounge up an open bag of chips, energy drinks, bandages, and a mirror. He took the chance to view himself.

His hazel brown eyes were still the same, a bit red from staying up for two days straight. His short black hair covered by his green FAST helmet, his tactical headset covering his ears as well. He didn't look human anymore, but that was the job he supposed.

"Terrors of the wastes, right?" He asked Raylan.

"Terrors of the wastes." He confirmed.