“I’ll understand if you don’t want to shoot these guys,” he said to Helen as he raised his rifle and put an eye to the scope.  It wasn’t a long shot, only a block, but he wanted to be sure of a kill.

Helen’s response was barely a whisper.  “No, I don’t.  But I will.  They tried to kill us and would have taken everything we had.  We can’t leave them to kill us or someone else later. When an animal becomes rabid, you put it down.”

She took a knee next to him, raising her rifle with the ease and smooth movements of an expert.  Taking aim, she said, “I’ve got the one on my right.  You take the other one.”

Allistor put the red dot in his scope dead center of the left guy’s head.  “Three… two… one.” They fired nearly in unison.  Allistor’s target went down with a spray of red mist as his brains exited the other side of his skull at a high velocity.  Helen had gone for a safer target, drilling a hole through her man’s chest.   Both dropped out of sight as Twitch continued to scream, and experience points flashed across Allistor and Helen’s interfaces.

“We need to get up there and finish Twitch.” Allistor was conflicted even as he said it. They had no way to know who else was inside the building.   And an injured but still living Twitch might be very dangerous to confront.

The two of them left the cover of the corner and jogged toward the warehouse door.  Seeing that it opened inward, Allistor didn’t wait to see if it was unlocked.   He simply lowered his shoulder and smashed into it.  The door proved to be no match for his improved strength and momentum.  It burst open, swinging inward to slam against the wall behind it and bounce back at Allistor.  He ignored it as he swept the room with his eyes, his weapon following shortly behind.  The place was mostly empty.  There were three mattresses set in different corners of the large room, each with a crate next to it.  Empty beer bottles and trash littered the floor.  Near the center of the room were three chairs set around a steel drum with a metal grill set on top.

Helen entered a few seconds later, making her own scan of the place.  Fuzzy was right behind her, his nose twitching.  Both of them quickly wrinkled their noses in disgust.  “Quite the bachelor pad,” Helen whispered.  Her hands were shaking as they held her rifle, and sweat beaded on her forehead.  Allistor couldn’t tell whether she was frightened, or sick over having killed someone.

Without a word, he led the way up the rickety wooden stairs at the back of the warehouse.  Both of them winced with every creak and groan of the wood as they climbed.  They stopped at a second-floor office, which they quickly checked then ignored as they continued up the next flight to the top landing.  Here was the door to the roof.