Syrus was baffled. Someone had been in the closet, someone had ejected that clip. But with no where to go, and Syrus's revolver on the door... How the hell...
Syrus couldn't think strait. The com opened up with the kid singing, then that laughter again. "When I get my hands on that little bastard, I'll rip his head clean off his body," Syrus said in all seriousness. Now with this kid playing his games, they had someone armed, mabye hostile, a threat of unknown importence or strength, and Syrus was having more flashbacks with each moment.
He saw the boy standing there, a confused look on his face. Syrus couldn't shoot a harmless kid. He was above such horrible tactics. Then the pink mist that followed the explosion, the kid had been a walking bomb. His squad, all KIA. The mangled bodies blown apart and strewn across the courtyard. The blood, his arm was in extreme agony. His howl of pain and sorrow, and the subsequent loss of memory. He didn't know what happened after that, but the report said when he'd been found, there was more than just the bodies of his comrades lying dead in the street.
"I won't ever let that happen again," Syrus shouted to banish the memory back into the recesses of his mind. He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. He pulled his revolver, popped open the wheel, unloaded the hallow points, dropped some armor piercing rounds into the wheel, and slapped it close. He cocked the hammer back, and took off at a fast walk down the hall, kicking in each door and manually scanning each room down the sights of his weapon.