A deal went wrong. Fifteen men, dead under your watch. It’s not your fault, God no. But the survivors guilt ate away at you like a flesh eating bacteria.

Papers littered the hardwood floor, the stone wall to your right stained with a the dripping brown of coffee and the evidence of it being the shattered mug beneath it. Who caused this? You. Anger boiled bitterly inside your veins and from bottling that heat for the last month was exploded by someone’s bloody nose. Every time your eyes flickered to the few splatters of crimson on the black keyboard made a sour taste flood your tastebuds.

Footsteps echo through the hallway, a figure appearing in the doorway. Valera stands there, exhales, and runs a hand through her hair. “Ok. What the hell happened?”