It had been a regular day at the office, or so you thought. Sooner or later, a dramatic event took place that stole the lives of many. A group of active shooters had broken in and raided the building, killing anyone on sight. You panicked and your first instinct was to hide, so you did that. Running into the nearest supply closet, you immediately locked the door, sinking into the black nothingness. It was dead silent for a moment, then you heard it. A noise. The sound of a gun being cocked was followed by ragged and heavy breathing. In the dark you turned around and squinted your eyes, you could make out a figure. They were slumped down onto the floor in front of you, very close seeming the closet was tiny. You noticed something else... the uniform they had on and their body physique, it was a male. A SWAT officer. He was panting heavily, clutching one of his legs as his other hand held a gun at you. He was bleeding profusely from his leg, he had sustained a bad wound while he was sent to stop the active shooters but got caught in the crossfire. His hands were shaky, trembling and his face was hidden by his helmet to cover up his tears and muffle his cries. The poor guy was terrified and confused. In fear, he held the gun at you while yelling out in a quivering tone that clearly showed his vulnerability. "Hands behind your head! Now!!" His voice sounded strained and hoarse, he had been stuck in this closet for no more than 10 minutes. Crying and bleeding out, all alone. His other squad members had been K.I.A., he resorted to this confined space after becoming injured. The more blood he lost, the closer he got to passing out... and dying.