“We all got it comin'”
At least that's what my father used to say, anyway. It was his mantra. Not a good one for a soldier, if you ask me. All of what happened in the last 18 years, my dad would always repeat it. That he called it. Shortly after Russia surrendered their arsenal of mass destruction - the entire ten thousand strong nuclear defense system - the world's gone even crazier than before. Even more... scared. Like a wolverine forced into a corner.
Once we had the advantage of said weapons, no nation dared to oppose anymore. The United States Federation was formed, and became a global threat. The catastrophe was waiting to happen. Of course dad called it, it was inevitable. Seven years went by after I was born and my father took our family - me, my mother and two sisters - out of the house. Out of the country.
He took us far away from the states, to a small city in India. It didn't take much to put together that something was going down, but I was far too young to understand that then.
The news hit India too late, everything was already in progress, but dad trained us in his 'survivor techniques'. We wore bullet proof vests and medical masks just to get groceries. No one in the city could understand it. We were nothing short of crazy to them. Looking back, I wish we were prepared better. Then the news finally hit. 

"...As far as the USF government revealed, there's no relation between their marine deployment in the South African continent and the biochemical attack via local CENZA water supply. Citizens are being evacuated into USF reservations on south-western Madagascar, and urged to submit to the USF government forces, until the sovereign forces are mitigated.
--Investigation is about to take place into Governor Thomas MacLaren's office. The governor's spokesman, Richard Hayward, stated, quote "[...]absolutely no ties between the Federation’s military and the Vladivostok's mass bombings". Furthermore, the spokesman insists there's zero involvement with the US and the attacks of NITRO units on the Russian embassy, as well as four other embassies in India, quotes "hearsay" and "political gossip" as the main reasons for the, quote “false journalism accusations”. Vladivostok's body count has skyrocketed to nearly 90 thousand over the last 72 hours. In other news--"

"Turn that off, Clint. Help your sister with the luggage, you hear me?" my dad said from across the room. We are leaving. Again.
I've never felt like something is wrong as much as now. I'm 15, and I'm scared from the void for the first time. From something I can't point my finger at, something that is in the air.
So I'm grabbing my phone and helping Rachel with her seriously overpacked suitcase.
"It's gonna be ok, right?" Rachel asks while I'm trying my best to stay on my feet. That case is really heavy. "I mean, we're just moving. Dad seems freaked out though, right? Not even mentioning mom.... and-- Clint? Hello?!"
I keep staring at the sky. Rachel has the only room with a view on the other side of the house, where you can see the clouds and the tips of trees. The... everything. I was always so jealous of this room.  I turn around to look in Rachel's eyes. She's... just so scared. It's all over her face. I put the luggage down.
"It's just a trip, Rach. It's gonna be fun, we're not dropping bombs on the Andaman Islands. Jesus."
"What do you know about the Islands…" She patronizes me. “Never- what do you know about bombings?”
The truth is, I was out of it, too. India was the first time we moved as long as I can remember. Now we are flying to Australia. Didn't take genius to see that we were running away from something.
That was a long time ago. I don't know why it popped into my head today. Maybe the comfort of memories, maybe lack of any better ones. What else am I supposed to do, when facing death.
I'm about to be deployed. Now I'm part of the National and International Terror Response Operators. We call ourselves ‘Operators’ - to be blunt. Teams of Operators spread around the globe, designed and put together for eradication, extraction or ground support. But this is a purge mission - eradication. Every purge agent has a location - a Dark Zone - where they operate. Mission is very simple: Eliminate subnormal and hostile actors in the purge areas.
Simple, not easy.
Nervosity is switching places with anger. And so on, I don't know if I can't wait to jump out of this plane or just want to strip myself to the seat hard enough that no one will ever get me out again. I can do this. I have to do this.
"Red. Time for last debrief. Just so you know what you shootin’ at down there." from the front of the plane walked out six foot five, a mountain of a woman. That's Captain Yonna. Native-North American special forces, Canadian Spec Ops, she's been helping Nitro for about 15 years now. The oldest serving Operator, most experienced sharpshooter deployed in my lifetime, possibly ever. Her purge area was Las Vegas, cleared in just under 3 months. That alone gets her so much respect I almost stand up as I see her walk through the seat aisle, but I can't. I'm strapped tight. She sits across from me so I can see the tablet she's been holding. Then starts tapping the display.
"Not like there's anything we don't want dead down there, but-- Protocol. LZ is seventy out, so we need to do this inside a minute, you up to it?"
I try not to look nervous. "Shoot."
She flips the screen on me "Give me the TTs." The screen lights up with a few slides of different virus-infected species, like rats, feral dogs, but even some humans in the final stages.
The Treat Tiers. There are three basic subnormal tiers we deal with on the daily, "Tier One. Roaches, Bear Vasps, Scorpions..."
"Non-extincts only, Red."
"Arthropods, larger insects, smaller animals."
"Next on the menu." The Captain continues.
"Tier Two, the megafauna and larger-than-small animals. Feral dogs, wild felines, horses, elephants, crocs, bears, gorillas...", I stopped myself.
"That it, Lieutenant? My first grade Encyclopedia had at least twenty more zoo animals." She mocks me.
"I've cut it short, Captain. Wouldn't wanna miss that LZ."
"Right on. Third TT."
"God's biggest mistake."
"You're on a record, soldier. Failure of the verbal test will result in a major pain in my ass at the HQ."
"The homo-sapiens, ma'am. Infected humans, subtiers A to C - Male, Female, children up to the age of 15. We good?"
"Forgetting a number, soldier?."
"Four’s a myth, Cap."
"We don't dismiss myths, rook, we prepare for 'em. This is NITRO, not the Navy. Now, what's for dessert?"
"Fours are allegedly a mutated stage of an infected subject, or a group thereof.” I recite “They… seem to manifest rarely, in urban areas or cities. Likely exclusive to humans or larger animals. No official sightings, though.” I note.
"There are reports from some civs back home and even here. Still under investigation of digital tempering."
"Who would fake a tier four subnormal, ma'am?" I ask, skeptically.
"You askin' me. My money's on the fucking Remnants."
"They're fanatics."
"Fanatics with laptops." she scoffs and stands up "Alright, Red. Ten second window. ‘Member, there's no exfil optional. The only way we get your ass back up in clouds is from a safezone, or DEF station. Make it count."
"I got this."
She looks back at me. "Get ready, five out!" She gets up and walks back to the cockpit.
The plane shivers for a few seconds, we're entering Morelia. That's my area, in the middle of the land of enchantment - Mexico. The plane is shaking at this point so much I can barely stand, but the green light at the door tells me I have to.
"Give 'em hell." comes from the Captain's voice through the plane’s speakers.
C'mon, Clint. Into the middle of the nightmare. That's why you are here. Boots, chest plate, kevlar, helmet, semi-automatic P68, fully automatic M5-K, two flares, first aid, ammunition, my knife.
I keep touching my gear, making sure I have everything. It was at the very edge of the plane's door when I realized there's one thing I didn't check. The parachute.
I was way too nervous to keep this in my head. Luckily I had it from the first time I set my foot on the plane.
"O-P's away!"  Comes out of the plane's reproductor, it's the pilot giving me a go.
Cargo door opens. I let myself go into the clouds. My helmet provides eye protection so I can see clearly even while falling thousands of feet down above the city. I have to pick the right moment to open the parachute, otherwise I would end up in the Dark Zone, or some faction will see and hunt me down. While falling I recognized a few places I’ll need to clean. Most of the movement was around residential areas, small lone buildings with cracked open rooftops. Mostly just low tier subnormals. Those are almost harmless, unless they have numbers. In the distance I could see some kind of fire, which is not good. Means there's at least one faction in the local area, which will make my life harder.
The display on my helmet shows me the distance between me and the plane I just left, followed by a radio coms.
"Red." Captain Yonna started talking through my helmet. “Your mission as a purge agent is to eliminate threats, but the official agenda is to round up civilians and get them to a DEF station. It's politics. Your concern is Tier 3s and backing up any material left by other Operators. Try to make contact with any old deployments, too. You're getting out of a safe distance, so I'll let you go. Good luck."
My clock shows around two thousand feet from the ground, it's time to pick a spot and open the parachute. The string I pulled made a sound of rapid pulling of a piece of cloth, and soon after the shute quickly got out of my backpack. Landings are always difficult, but this is different. The faster I land the better. All I need is to avoid broken bones and I can congratulate myself.
As the ground touched my feet, landing was easy. If you ignore the fact I got instantly spotted by multiple infected animals. Those that spotted me are just smaller mutated roaches. One of them looks like a dog, that might be a challenge. I'm not pulling my gun for this, I need to lay low until I'm way out of any other human contact. For now, my knife will have to do.
Long, thick piece of metal, about two pounds in weight. Sharpened at the tip and strong teeth in the middle, with a solid plastic grip. Using enough strength, this thing is able to tear a metal car door in half. First swing is a miss. They are scared of me, just the dog seems angry enough to attack. It is rumored some infected dogs mutate into a second tier, which could require my gun. This one looks very young. A German shepherd, maybe a year old. A little dog tag hangs on its neck. Too rusty to read. Fur shows bloody red skin on a lot of parts, his jaws are missing some teeth but surely still can bite my face off. Missing his right ear. In fact most of his skin on the right side of his face is gone, to the bone. Looks burned off. Leaves the dog's skull completely exposed. I need to keep my distance, wait for it to attack first.
It jumps at me fast, but I've seen it coming. While dodging its raging open mouth, I try to cut the mut, but end up just cutting off its tail. It was at this moment I realized this creature has mutated for a really long time. Subnormals that are in the zone for longer than a couple months lose a lot of brain activity and feel much less pain, if any. Which makes them harder to kill. This dog didn't even notice his tail was missing. Meanwhile, the roaches started attacking me as well. Most of them just fly up and try to distract me. Like I said, tier ones are easily dealt with with simple training. They don’t form packs and lack coordination. Mindless bugs turned stupid. Which means, apart from being super-mutated, they do not care about each other, the opposite actually. And this theory soon proves accurate, as the dog warped his preference from me to the roaches. I have no idea who wins this battle, but I'm not sticking around to find out.
Last thing I do is to gather the parachute. It's a fair amount of cloth that is definitely useful. At the very least it’ll make for a good bandage. I made a sort of raincoat out of the stuff and sprinted away from the brawl. In front of me is painted a clear picture of the Mexico desert as we know it. Morelia used to look better, that's safe to say. Now Morelia resembles old post-apocalyptic movies, a wasteland on top of wasteland. Most of the soil is now something close to sand, only the mutation waste turned all the living flora black or dark green. Rest of the sand turned black as well, from oil spillage and blood.
In the far distance I see the city. Tall buildings laminate the edge of the city clearly, but the ones I can see are practically just ruins by now. Day is cutting short, my alarm is set for 6PM. That's when the big guys are coming out. I will have to find a shelter in the next five hours.
Walking in the sunshine for over twenty minutes made me exhausted. My legs started to give in slowly, I don't have much more time. I'm about to pass another empty building. I don't think I can afford to ignore it this time.
It's an older building, a small two-stock house. Looks like it was in ruins even before the outbreak. The windows are practically just holes in the walls. Entering it will not be hard, hopefully the same goes for exiting.
The wooden door is rotten, I might as well just kick it in, it would have the same effect as simply opening them. A strong smell dominates the house. The smell you get to know in zones very fast. Subnormals are here, or at least nearby. This makes it inhabitable, but that's why I'm here. To clean it up.
I see the stairs, passing them as I approach the other side of the house. Now I'm realizing that a whole wall is missing here, probably where it used to be a kitchen. Or a living room, maybe. The smell is way stronger here, but I don't see the epicenter. Nothing, just the disgusting smell. I'm gonna need to pull out my gear fast, and for that I need a safe place. Let's check upstairs and find at least one clean room. The stairs don't seem trustworthy but I have to try. Careful steps. 
The smell is getting even worse as I enter the first floor. It's a very tight hallway with a single door at the end and two doors on each side. Those are locked, it shouldn't be hard to kick in, but I have no way to defend myself in close quarters against a subnormal. And judging by the smell rising from behind the door, I'd rather risk the door in front.
It's white, fainted color. Plastic. Strange, this door was definitely put here recently, maybe even after the outbreak. It's not locked - the room behind the door is very simple. There's a bed here, or at least a worn out mattress acting as such. A table with a small hammer and a couple screwdrivers. The upside is that I can probably trust this door to hold anything that's possibly gonna come at me. That must be enough for today.
I'm dropping the backpack and the parachute. Now I can finally pull my rifle out. Putting it on the table, along with my P68. I need to check everything. Sooner or later I will get more gear from the factions around here, but for now I have to make do with what I have. First checking the M5. Everything looked good, landing and the fight didn't bust anything. Now the hard part. I need to leave all of it in here and check the other door. Once it's clean, it’ll make this building a safehouse for today. I got enough rounds to shoot my way out of a small town. Let's go back to the hallway.
I didn't notice this at first, but the wood I'm stepping on is gradiently changing color as I get closer to one of the other doors. Feels like whatever is in there began to mutate. Maybe months ago. Locked doors are an easy problem to fix, but I don't really want to kick the doors just to find some kind of tier 3 subnormal I cannot handle in closed space. Hinges are outside, the door opens out not in. Suggests the room is small, maybe a closet. Handle on my rifle can bust the hinges, after that I might be able to just tear the door off. First one goes almost on its own, the second needs two - no, three hits. It's falling off. The door is down. Before my eyes, a human man is sitting in a fetal position. Dead. For a long time, but I see bites all over his neck and arms. Small ones, probably roaches. He's getting conscious as I stare at his unmoving body. Opening his eyes, but can't move, he's stuck as his lower body is already solidified in the decomposition process.
One bullet to the head would've done it, but I don't have to waste my ammunition. I think there's a hammer in the other room.
The night's getting closer. I've made some smaller bandages out of the parachute, the rest of the cloth's gonna be useful later perhaps.
Then, a little clean up of my helmet, checking more of my gear. I got fortunate with the mattress here. It's not ideal but it will do, for tonight. Last thing I want to do is sleep, but I can't be tired in the morning. I will be thirsty soon as well. First nights are the easiest, if you find a roof soon. Tomorrow, the real game starts. The mattress smells terrible. It has bullet holes in it, bloodstains, and acid burns. But I can't be choosy. There's a window right above my head, one of the few windows that have no holes in it. I can still feel the cold wind, the window's not sealed very well. But it at least keeps the sand and bugs out of the room. This is doable. I need to keep my target in sight, and that is going to guide me, eventually. One room at the time, one building at the time. My eyes are closing. Maybe I will catch at least a few hours of sleep.
My morning was rather unexpected. First sound that pulled me out of my sleep was the sand. More accurately, the wind made out of the sand. A sandstorm. It's all but unusual in this part of Mexico, the sand that is. The wind condition, however, is caused by something we have been monitoring for years now. All we know is that it's not natural. There are speculations about an unknown subnatural mass that would be physically able to cause disturbance of this margin, but no one ever saw it. Anyway, that's what made me get up a little early. A subnormal sandstorm. The positive thing is, while yes - I can't walk in the sand faster than a snow worm -  the subnormals can't either. It gives me time. As long as the house will hold in one piece as well. But, given how long it is here, I'm not too worried.
I'm going to be locked up here for about an hour, maybe less. It's time to make a plan for the day. Or at least some checklist. First, I really need water. As soon as I woke up I knew I'm in trouble for some water. It’s only gonna get worse, which means me getting out there as soon as possible, getting supplies.
Yesterday, while landing, I noticed a few camps around here. There's only two uninfected human forms in zones that survive - members of the factions and ex-members of the factions. With a little luck, I won't draw out too many of them at once, but I’m trained to be able to take them all down.
So, supplies overall are a must. There’s the flares, which I was given as a last resort for aid, but I don’t count on it as anything more than a firestarter, besides bullets. I need to be careful with how I use them. What's the next goal, after I stabilize myself? I will need to get as high as possible, perhaps a taller building. Once I create a map of different locations I will start with clean-ups. I would prefer to deal with the factions on the first day, but I doubt I'll have the choice. Most factions are fanatics, the ‘finest’ of survivors in Mexico. Drug dealers, human traffickers. Religion pushers - those believe the mutagen is some kind of god's calling, or they are here to cash in on the city's suffering. That makes it harder for me to silently blow all those things up without civilian interference. Luckily, this zone, just like every purge area, is an official warzone. Everything that's breathing here is legal to kill.
I will stuff myself with a protein bar in the meantime. Getting even more thirsty is not ideal, but better than having nothing to eat at all. It's gonna boost my energy for the next hour or so. The storm is making much less noise now, I think it's time to go. I'm grabbing the rifle, putting it in my backpack’s holster, the P68 on my right side and the machete in my hand. Until I have no other choice, I will try not to fire any bullets at all.  Outside is still chaotic, but I don't hear any subnormals around. With my helmet I'm good to go in the storm, just need to be careful and not get lost. 
My hand grabs the door knob, but the doors are not letting me out. It almost feels like a warning. I'm busting them open with little more power, just to get blasted with sand and other junk flying the storm right after I step outside.
I can see shadows of subnormals around me. Most of them are just roaches, disoriented in the flying sand. There’s no need to clear them out now. Making sure that I walk in a straight line, I will be able to track down the safehouse. It takes another ten minutes until, all of sudden, I practically walk into a wall. This one is covered in blood and green liquids. Laminated by scratches and bullet holes. A fight was going on here - recently. Maybe a couple of days ago. Once I find the entrance to the building, I take off the glasses, strapping them on my helmet.
Room is wiped out. Aside from more blood and glass, there's nothing at all in here. Only thing worth mentioning is the door hanging from another wall. I have no choice, but to go deeper in the building. Larger room I'm led into seems like a reception of some sort. I can see long stairs right in front of me. Beneath those, there's a counter with old newspapers, rags and more blood. Looking at the counter, it seems like some of the bloody rags and pieces of clothing are very fresh. Maybe from yesterday, or even today. As on cue, I start hearing footsteps right above my head from the ceiling. Someone's definitely walking right above me. Before checking that out, I'm controlling the number of exits. There's a good chance I will have to retreat from a potential fight. My rifle is prepared, with its barrel looking at the stairs first, then following it as I get on every single step as carefully as possible. I’m sure now I hear more than one person. They're arguing, female and male. I can't hear the words but it's clear now that the situation is about to escalate. I should let them resolve it. The less bullets I fire, the better. I hear an engine getting closer to the building, as I touch the door. Heavy vehicle, probably truck or transporter. Normal car would not survive out there, nor would I hear it through the storm. Someone’s getting out of the vehicle, it’s a couple men at least.
The situation has changed drastically now. I have to hide. There's a low chance I can defeat probably more than three civilians with weapons, far worse if I'm in a closed environment, like a building I've never been inside of. I have two magazines, third in the rifle. The low caliber in the right holster has only one spare magazine. Math says I can't survive unless I fight in close quarters.
There's no other choice for me. I have to go in there and whoever is waiting for me I need to negotiate. Hopefully they don't belong to the same faction. The door opens, my gun enters first. I surprised them, so they had no time to react. In front of me stands a younger woman, around 25 and an older man around 50, maybe 60. Nobody is moving. I'm pointing my gun on the floor, so as to discourage any haste shots. They both went silent, probably scared. 
Whoever is downstairs is getting already in the building, searching for something specific. Or someone.
"Don't move. And be quiet." I say, slowly and calmly.
Then I proceed to very slowly close the door behind me. As I turn around to make sure the door is tightly closed. A loud bang pierces my ears. There's a bullet hole right above my head, from the gun that old man used.
“You have to leave.” He said.
If they want to shoot me now, I can't fight people inside and outside. I remain turned to the door, grabbing my knife.
My ears are ringing. The man is yelling at the woman, while the woman yells back. I can feel footsteps on the stairs, on the other side of the door. One is coming up, two others behind him. The door opens, I see just a barrel of his gun. He had to spot the woman first, just like I did, and it gave him confidence to walk up and go past me. After that it's a simple two hand move. Grabbed his gun, turned it down to his feet. While he shoots the floor, I'm stabbing him deeply in the chest with my knife. He's dying, slowly choking on blood. I pierced a lung. Terrible death, but efficient for me. He can’t make a single sound, everytime he takes in breath he just drinks his own blood, pouring it down his stomach and lungs. The other men will soon follow. Before I have the chance to grab my rifle again, the other man is already in the room and shooting. I managed to use the first guy's body as cover, meanwhile the yelling couple managed to drop the second intruder down. I can hear someone downstairs calling up.
"Ivan? Denis?! ... You need me?!"
The knife got stuck in the man's rib cage while his full body weight was pinning me to the floor.
Footsteps are getting much clearer, a third man has to be in the room. He didn't even notice me, as I'm covered by his dead friend.
"Here y'are! Scum!" he yells. I can sense frightened cracks and anger in his voice. "The boss’s gonna take a good look at ya, and you'll tell us where's the bitch. Com'ere!"
"Don't you touch her you sick fuck!" the old man yells back. I can barely see anything from my angle.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch! You... did 'dis! You two, and the other cunt!" He moves into my line of sight so I can see him properly.
Luckily he's way too occupied with the woman to pay attention to me, getting up, and running towards him. Right before he realized I'm charging him, I already tackled him and pushed through a huge window on the left. I managed to land us both on the truck they all arrived in.
There was an audible crack coming out of my body. Something definitely broke.
We made quite a hole in the car, too. 
Before the other guy woke up, I blindly grabbed something from his chest armor. Was hoping for a knife, anything to finish him off quickly, but my finger pulled a tiny piece of metal. Round shape with a trigger on the side. I knew instantly, once I looked at it. A safety trigger.
I did my best to get myself back inside the building's ground window before the grenade ran out of time. Once I crawled on my feet, the blast helped me on the ground swiftly. I may have a few broken ribs. The grenade's explosion set the car up for a second blow. If the car runs on gas, the blast could just rip me to shreds. Flames went high up from the hood, and once they stopped, a big blast and high pitch noise sent me flying right inside the building. Had to be an electric engine. My vest is soaking up most of the damage, but I can feel my chest and the shooting pain from broken bones. I get up and head upstairs for the second time.
The woman was silent this time. She was sitting next to the old man, holding his wound.
"He's dying." she says silently "He needs stitches, bullet's gone through." 
I looked on a wall where the bullet ended up after wounding the man. “If it’s through, he’ll need a priest.” I reach into my pocket with first aid. There's an injection of aidGel.
"It’s gonna help with the bleeding, but you have to get out of here. Now." I say and inject his wound.
The woman looks at me. She has black hair and tired eyes. Didn't wash in quite a while.
"Why are you doing this?" she says. “Why help us?”
I don't say anything.
The man is old and hasn't eaten much lately. I can lift him and help him walk, at least to the safe house. "C’mon, grab my gun. I can't shoot anyway." I turn to her and hand her my rifle.
What the fuck am I doing.
While carrying the old man named Hega, and getting watched over by the young woman Nae, I developed a very bad thirst. My original mission was to get some water supply in the building, but I did a really exhausting detour, instead. My safehouse was luckily still intact and guest-ready. We entered the building swiftly and settled right in the center of the ground floor. Nae made a remark about how I managed to clear the building up from the infection so fast, but didn’t really direct it at me. While Hega was relatively fine, given the hole in his stomach, he needed surgery. I didn't have all the tools, but had some at least.
"He needs a doctor. The wound's getting bad." Nae says. Dropping the gun on the floor and attending to Hega. She doesn't do much shooting from the looks of it.
"We need supplies and I can't move any more than he can. Grab the gun, and try to--"
"No!" she interrupts me, "I'm not going out there and leaving him here. We...we don’t even know you... " She wouldn't look at me, stopping under her breath. Maybe it is fear. My breath is shortened by a minute. Thirst is bad and I might have internal bleeding. My voice must seem very tired at this point "Then why bother dragging him here, lady. Just… do as I say, and we will all live."
She pretends not to hear me. Perhaps giving it a second thought.
I remove my helmet, and all of my gear that I can reach.
"Here. Just put it on you. It will help you in the storm. Try to look for some wire, bullets and water. There's a clock on the helmet too, it's gonna tell you what to do. The guys we killed will have what we need. Just go there and come back." 
She tries her best to wear gear of my size. It looks funny a bit, but it will help her survive. Before she leaves she starts a fire, in the middle of the room. She also left their gun behind. Looks like a homemade weapon, there's even parts that are made of wood and plastic.
Hopefully I won't have to fire it. The flames keep going just fine. The old man even wakes up after about twenty minutes.
But all he sees is me.
"Where-"
"She's outside. Getting supplies."
He looks down, and into the fire.
"Why are you here? You are the-- you're one of them, aren't ya?" Hega asks, staring into the flames. Taking careful glimpses at me.
"I'm an operator. National and International Terror Response Operators” I recitate “- we handle things the local government can't."
I'm silent for a while.
"I have to make sure the zone is ready for decontamination. Once there's nobody who'd interfere with the procedure, then we can start. Even evacuate people that are willing to leave the zone." 
Hega doesn't say anything after that.
Long after, he asks "Boy, do you even know where we are sitting right now?"
He points across the room, to the other room where I see a destroyed kitchen counter. He is pointing at the round shape above it. Looks like a game of darts.
"Somebody used to live here. Hard to believe, right?"
All of sudden he picks up very gently the homemade weapon Nae left us with. He holds it like a newborn animal, with care and affection.
"This world you jumped from your fancy plane into - it's a mess. It's hell, the abomination of humanity. Diseases on every corner, people eating people. People shooting, raping and selling people. Animals that grow extra eyes, legs and teeth. With skin so thick, bullets bounce right off of them. That… sickness. The fever -  took everything here, and you can't leave. The life that used to be the most comforting thing imaginable. Even in this very room, you'd find love, a family with a dog and cold beer. A loving wife, couple of kids. And you look at it for the first time today. You are disgusted and scared. And the first thing you want to do is get rid of this place. Can't blame ya."
He cocks the weapon, it makes a strange, toy-like sound. Definitely ready to fire. 
"Don't remember talking about a plane." I say. But he doesn’t seem to mind, or care.
"There was this man once. Someone like a brother to me. Grew up in Morelia, me and him. This small, but beautiful city. Our home was on the side, a calmer neighborhood. 
We were misfits, you know. Criminals almost, really. City was being evacuated at the time when we decided to hit a grocery store. But they were already there. ‘Los hombres que disparan'. The men who shoot. We were so scared. There was no way we could just run away, the only exit was blocked by those heavy armed golems with helmets and flashlights. We had to hide or die right there. So we hid in the dairy section." he chuckles and examines his gun, making sure it’s ready to fire.
"But my brother, the idiot. Oh man." Hega keeps talking and his breath starts dragging. "Those huge men blocked the way. Some other people tried to run too. They pulled this woman out of the streets and scanned her. She didn't pass... like anyone ever would. So my dumbass brother tried to save her. Ran right off, no thinking. I didn't move. Couldn't… I couldn’t fucking move. He died, gunned down like a dog. They wouldn’t even say a word. And I stayed covered."
He gets quiet. I don't know what to say. If anything, he probably blames me. The outsider.
"Soon after, people in Mexico knew of a new enemy. The only thing more deadly than the yellow eyes. NITRO. Men covered in armor that shoot everyone they see. If… if I could get my hands on one of-" his voice cracks “Do you know what I’d do for a chance-”
The door blasted in. Bunch of sand follows inside as the heavy footsteps crush it on the rotten, sore, wooden floor.
"I have a rotbag. And some water too, Heg. We can get you better!"
Nae returned, surprisingly unharmed and well stocked. I guess being a survivor and a local helps you get around easier. She enters the room and puts down a piece of some mutated animal on the floor. It hits the wood so heavily I started to question her strength. But once she looks at Hega, she realizes the tense atmosphere. Not to mention Hega's gun in his hands.
"National. And International. Terror. Response. Operators." he mocks me, saying each word like a first grade teacher.
Nae looks at me, confused.
"That would spell NITRO, right?" Hega says.
The room turned incredibly quiet, only the fire cracking occasionally breaks it.
He aims the gun at my head, lifting it from his right hip.
I stare down the homemade firearm, "I really didn't tell you about the plane, did I?"