"There are no challenges when you are facing death. There is no secret path you must take to avoid being killed, or killing without the intent. When there is an upcoming danger, staring you blatantly in the eyes, there are no ifs, ands, or buts. You do what you have to do, when you have to do it. It's a simple kill or be killed tactic, really. If you were being chased by something viscous and sinister...something that was out to destroy you, wouldn't you react? Wouldn't you fight to save the pathetic excuse for a life just to live a little bit longer, and then die eventually?" "You're right. We are put on this world to die. Maybe that is not a straight purpose of why the cardiac muscle pumps blood through these veins, but you can't deny that it is the inevitable. We are all going to die eventually. That's what makes a human a human. The fucked up part is that the first 2-4 years of our toddler years, we don't understand shit that's going on, but we learn. You think I remember when my mother tried to feed me dried mangoes from a can on an early Tuesday morning? Hell no. I don't reminisce on shit I know nothing about. Once you hit 5, that's when the memories come in. If you think about it, 4 years of our lives were a mystery to ourselves, but we lived it and that's all that mattered." "Now you're expecting to live for years on end. Who the hell promised that? My ex girlfriend got hit by a bus for not looking both ways before crossing the street to get to the whore house she was going to every Thursday night. No one promised her forever, and now look at her. Six feet underground. She died a short life, as a whore." "That's what makes me think...if I could choose a way to die, it'd be the way I want to die. If I wanted to be scorched alive going to take the trash out one day, then so help me, I would continually throw myself into those situations. It'll make the percentage of that happening sky rocket, wouldn't it? I know that I don't have a choice whether I live or die or not. But I sure as hell have a choice on how I'm NOT going to die. And if you're listening to this, then I'm obviously still alive, because there is no way in hell that I will die by these things." "Kai out." Kai Russo rubbed the top of his pale and bald head with a chiseled hand while the other fumbled with the tiny recorder he held in his other hand. He eventually discovered the grey button that spelled STP engraved onto a button that was next to the red button, which meant record. He pressed it once and the click that answered in return was the only sound that cracked through the building he was crouched in. The sound was loud enough to let Kai listen to the distance and width of the building he was in, determining the information by the echo. The echo didn't help tell him how to get the hell out of there though. It was hard to remember whether it was broad daylight or pitch black out there. He fought hard to remember what time of day it was before he fell into the roof of his new "home." No answer came to him though. The time of day, even the day, wasn't a necessity anymore. Who gives a damn about what day it was? Kai had that mindset still taped into his head. The 5'11 man made his way across a broken piled of fiber glass, wood, and some other debris that was littered around him. Foot after foot stepped over the rubble carefully, trying to make as less noise as they possibly could. He only wished to reach over to his precious rifle. There was a polished glint on the end of the extended barrel and Kai made a mental note that it was indeed daylight out there. That meant that they were on the move. Those bastards attacked during the day. Who does some shit like that!?