"Alright, clear the building: Anything moves, don't take any chances."

First one soldier entered, then another, followed by the fox sergeant in the rear. Their training taking over, they scanned the aisles methodically, searching for any signs of movement. And in the back, the father noticed a fourth soldier approaching from the back of the store. Mac was currently stuck between two groups of soldiers, who would most likely kill him on sight. Without hesitating, the father began to move towards the front, staying out of sight, Towards escape.

Keeping his head down, he watched as the flashlights lightened up the corners of the room, and crept ever so silently towards the front door. It didn't help that the soldiers were dead quiet, listening for the faintest sound to betray Mac. After a tension filled thirty seconds, he found that the sergeant was about to make his way down Mac's aisle. He panicked, and looked for a way out, but it seemed there wasn't one. Without thinking, he looked down, and saw a glass bottle, empty but incredibly useful. He grabbed it, and hurled it over the shelves, watching as the sergeant got ever closer.

Smashing loudly on the other side of the store, all the soldiers whirled around towards the sound. "We have movement, on the left side of the building. Didn't get clear sight of it, but it was quick. Might be a Runner. Stay together, ladies". They regrouped in the center of the store, and approached where the bottle smashed, weapons ready. It was now that Mac broke into a quiet stealth run, trying to make as little noise as possible. Unfortunately, some glass from the windows crunched under his heel, and the sergeant whirled around, spotting him. 

"FREEZE!" The sergeant shouted towards the assailant, but Mac paid no heed, and broke into a proper sprint. Rounds were fired, and punched holes in the wall just behind the father, as he jumped through the window hole. "Dammit, follow him!". A split second after Mac had left, the soldiers gave chase, and ran after him. They had guns, but also a tonne of weight on their backs, slowing them down. It was going to be a close call.