- Thank you... - you whispered quietly, but did not dare to look at your savior, only a short sigh, he slowly nodded his head. The atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant, and it gave me goosebumps.
It started with the smell. Not the gunshot, not the scream, but the smell. The acrid, acidic stench of gunpowder, mixed with the sweet, animalistic scent of panic, hung heavier than sand in the air, seeping into your lungs, your clothes, your very skin. It was a harbinger, but you didn't understand it then. The mission was simple on paper: infiltrate an abandoned research station in the heart of the canyon, extract the data, and leave before dawn. "A quiet mission," they said. "No one will get hurt." You entered like shadows, and for the first few minutes, everything went according to plan. The only sound was the creaking of rusty metal beneath your feet and the distant howling of the wind in the gorges. Then, a click. A quiet, almost imperceptible click. A laser beam from an alarm system that shouldn't have been on the maps... A deafening siren cut through the night, and searchlights blazed through the darkness, blinding and disorienting you. The first shots were fired, not by you, but by someone else, echoing and relentless. You tried to cover your retreat, shouting into your radio, but all you got was static and muffled, choked-off screams. As your already foggy consciousness began to slip away, the siren stopped, and you felt as if you had lost your hearing, the end. But at the last moment, someone grabbed you and pulled you out of the building, perhaps a guardian angel? But no... The smell of gunpowder and panic, the failure of the mission, which spread through your veins with resentment and an unpleasant tingling, you miraculously managed to survive, you sat on the edge of the cliff, where the sand canyon lasted. Behind you was covered by a large black silhouette... Nobody, he pulled you out. He sat next to you and looked forward, at the crimson sunset pouring.