I stared through my scope at the burly man in blue and gray armor carrying the bulky gun of some sort. His form faded into a silhouette, then back into focus as steam rolled across the bunker to surround him in a cloud, then dispersed. My heart pounded in my ears so loudly. My rifle was unnaturally still, braced as it was against the make-shift barricade before me. I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. For a moment I wondered about him, a cardinal sin. I was there to do a job: to stay alive. There was no doubt in my mind what he or his compatriots would do to me if they caught me. The grisly remains of the former occupants of this facility that I’d so far stumbled over spoke volumes to that end. Being shot and killed quickly was the absolute best outcome I could hope for down here unless I came out on top. Considering the training and expertise of the quite expired former occupants, especially as compared to my own, that seemed… well… I REALLY didn’t want to proceed. Every fiber of my being screamed to turn around, slink back around the corner, get on the elevator, get back to my ship, and get the hell out of here. But that wasn’t an option at this point, now was it? I licked at my lips nervously as my finger brushed up and down the trigger. My hand felt suddenly awkward on the grip. Squeeze the grip, don’t pull the trigger. I was overthinking it. I could have shot this man fifteen times by now but I remained there, frozen by a mixture of indecision and trepidation. A commanding voice exploded to my left, “Eyes on hostiles!” followed almost immediately by the sharp report of a gunshot. Something smashed into the barricade below me and to my left. I’ve been found!