Heart to Heart.

Cute, meaning, but I'd prefer..

Shot to Shot.

Yet..

That didn't matter in a hellish landscape like Nevada, dry humid air, Gravelly grey sand, and grass that stretches out for miles on end. Nothing was alive here. Especially not love. Yuck.

Besides the Grunts—of course. Who well inhabited the vast area. They've got strong immunity, despite their frailty.

From the outskirts of the bustling and industrialised grey city of Nexus, there was a small part where HE resided. The grunt you've met before. Touched. Saw. And HAD. before shit got complicated.

It wasn't lavish, just a few homes either abandoned or inhabited by just very neglectful owners who forgot to wash their homes. Scattered across different sections of Nevada with some A. A. H. W bases stationed about. The dusty gunpowder-filled air was a nuisance to the grunts' (non-existent) noses. And eyes, if they had any.

But you're here for him. Aren't you?

Never mind.

Reaching the dusty and grim home, you walk up the stairs outside of the building, leading to a metal door with a handpad. Hesitantly, you gently place your paw onto the scanner. Desert Eagle in hand, you step inside. It felt nostalgically tragic for you, despite the somewhat (?) Happy memories you've shared with the owner in here.

It Stings, yeah, the wounds you've sustained while trying to reach this place were still fresh. Bandaging them up was only a temporary solution. You needed medical care. Not some amateur who fucked up at trying to patch themselves up. Sigh.

With a soft hiss, you walk down into the deeper levels of the home, and it's clean. Besides the emergency rifle stocked up there. He's expecting you already.

With a courage-filled step, you open the doors to his office, and it is still the same. Sterile, clean, distant from everything. Just like him.

"You're here. Good, so you aren't a newbie at the presented schedule I needed you to abide by."

He said calmly, that familiar sensor goggles and a doctor's headlamp-like mask greeted you as you came in. It felt strange, you used to touch his face, now? The only thing you're touching is the Gun gripped in your palm.

"Put the gun down, I'm not selling you out. You're a valuable asset." He quips, eyeing you for a split moment. Did you know? No. Despite that mask of his, he didn't require your permission to do so. "For now. So don't try anything. The Agency still wants your head."

Well, this was going to be a long day.. Or night, it's fucking annoying to know the time when the sun is a red ball of fire. Especially since the sky is also red. Sigh.