"You need to make yourself scarce," crackled a voice down the comm.-line.
"Blend in. I can do that," she replied.
"No tricks, Kyra," he warned.
"Me? Tricks? Never."
"Always. No playing hero, we don't have time. If it's someone that's not on this team, you leave them. Don't try to save everyone."
"Fine, fine," Kyra muttered, touching the earpiece to cut it off.
She pulled her gun halfway out of her back pocket, keeping a hand on it as she moved silently through the warehouse.
"Alright, got a label," came a new voice. "A-374."
"Got it, Zack. Thanks."
" Kyra muttered to herself, moving through the stacks of boxes.
There was a scuffling sound coming from up ahead. Kyra pulled her gun out, holding it straight up, finger straight and off the trigger, as Max had taught her. She carefully turned the corner, eyes wide to catch any light that was present, trying to see through the gloom. Something ran out, knocking her to the ground. She was smart enough to not scream, although the stench alone was enough to make her want to. Kyra writhed in agony as her stomach was ripped open, still not making a sound. She could feel her flesh tearing, the blood exploding from the veins. She could feel it, spilling across the floor beneath her. She heard the growls of the creature as it ripped her open, but they seemed to be getting farther away, as if in a fading dream, but the pain was real enough. Kyra felt her eyes slide closed, welcoming the blackness that would take her away from it all.
"Get off her!"
The weight was relieved, but the blood was more.
"Kyra? Kyra. Kyra, stay with me! Kyra!"