[i][color=fff79a]"Who the hell are you?"[/color][/i], Horus shouted to the soldier currently looting the gutted civilian, his voice as rough as gravel. He stood within an alleyway born between two busted buildings, the dark corridor littered with zombie bodies. He had apparently been camping there since the end of the Union Staduim's failure.
Horus had been positioned into the Union Staduim the previous night, with the mission's profile being dropped the following dawn. Being hidden under a pile of cracked concrete and metal support rubble, Horus had only escaped once all his comrades had either died or scattered. He escaped only by the makeshift exits created by the last resort bombing of the oversized staduim.

[i][color=fff79a]"Didn't you hear me boy? Who are you?!"[/color][/i], Horus threatened, his gun held high and primed. To him, this wasn't just a bluff. It never was. He was a stone-cold killer at heart, and always suspicious. Horus never knew who to trust, and it always was just easier to take out the uncertain factor in any equation.