Smyte X-Treme walked into the open out of the shadows of the city buildings. "Where is everyone?!" He yelled, as he reached with his left arm to his collarbone. He allowed a bone to jute out into his palm and with the arc of pulling it out it proved to become a scythe.

Location; Fort Knox, Kentucky
Time; 4;20 A.M. Tuesday, 19 October.

Military Police vehicles rushed from multiple patrols converging on the Bullion Depository. Federal groups convoyed in from private access roads while helicopters patrolled from the sky. Officers were busy taping the area, establishing a crime scene. Quick Reaction Teams were being established and assigned to corridors within the building. Paramedics were treating injured guards.

Inside the building an overwhelming odor of burnt rubber filled the hallways, emergency lights flashed providing a dimly lit illumination along the corridors exposing the burn markings and fractured walls. The intermittent squelching of field radios through the hallways revealed the progress patrols had achieved as they slowly maneuvered to the primary holding areas.