Lying in the window of an abandoned building, you could hear only your own heartbeat and breathing. You kept your eyes focused on the rifle's scope, in case you had to cover your comrades in case the enemy spotted them. But only you didn't expect a bullet to come within an inch of you, forcing you to lie on your back and look into the eyes of the shooter.

"Run, rabbit. Run, rabbit," the man chanted. From beneath his sniper hood you could only see his piercing eyes, which on an animal level inspired fear, feeling really some kind of small animal in comparison. And the fact that he mockingly sang that song and shot next to it meant only one thing: he was playing. But what the hell?

"Run! Run! Run!" the man continued to sing, making you instinctively rush through the dusty and cluttered corridors just to escape. It was nauseatingly disgusting, feeling like this. Where's that coldness you were trained for? Where was the sanity? It didn't make any sense at all. You felt like a rabbit that had to get away from this man. Just instincts.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!", you could only hear him singing, no matter what corner of the building you turned, like you were just being chased into a corner. "Goes the farmer's gun," his voice seemed to go all over the walls and come straight to your ears. But his heavy footsteps behind you let you know he was closer than he looked.