' What a pain in the ass.' Alexander Hudson thought to himself, as he rested peacefully against the concrete rooftop. The sky was clear when he settled into his ambush last evening but now the dark clouds were starting to cover the crystal moon. The wind was blowing south, he could tell from his animal instincts; a storm was brewing nearby.

Hudson praised his prey for the choice of his cover. The mountains loomed like a protective giant against the vast stretch of unhabitable land. Houses in rubbles, streets empty and institutions deserted for years. 'Póg mo thóin. – "Kiss My Ass."  He scoffed to his own amusement. He liked breaking the will of his targets but he took special joy in the desperation of Target #12A.

The governor had personally approached him for this battle and paid him handsomely since it was a government based cleansing. Hudson wasn't patriotic or nationalistic. He has been a state deploy in the enemy territory his entire life but things are changing. Divide between the two sides are deepening, this is a volatile state. Once you are caught in the enemy's territory you are to be discarded. Jared, Vincent, Brendon which are not his real name, are just alter egos in the waves of thousands Hudson created in active militancy. The state didn't care what means he used because Target #12A seems to be a real deal for the government, he could tell by the sound of it.

Desperation is a funny thing. The thirst for solace makes people crawl through the desert towards a mirage, and when they discover there's no water, they'll even drink the sand.

The Sound of brakes screeching pulled him out of his trance, he slowly pulled himself back on his feet and laid belly down, peeked through his night-vision Nr.1 Barrett M82 rifle. There were two black SUVs, he aimed at the tires of the first one. His eyes deepened ocean red and A smile crept over his face, " Gotcha."

The tires bust by the impact as the cars swirled out of control. The first crashed into the concrete upside down, the second followed crushing its metal straight into the centre. Flames enveloped them as Hudson expected before everything came to a halt. He waited for survivors, rubbing the back of his neck before leaping down the rooftop onto the side of the road.

Nightcrawlers...these monsters don't die until you crush their heads.

Of course, he could sense their movements. Six people in the car. Three dead. One passed out. Two alive out of one is his prey, Target #12A. He tore through the right side of the vehicle, reaped the car door off the metal junk.

" Prisoner 378, Cell 12, Is that you?" He dragged the man out of his car, he fought back by firing rounds at Jared's chest. Jared didn't want unnecessary falaties and the second glance he knew the man wasn't who he was looking for. He made it quick with only one blow before leaning and looking at the back seat.

Prisoner 378 was conscious but immobile due to restraints. And something else that he wasn't aware of was that Target #12A is a woman. Handcuffed and bleeding, he instantly knew that she was from the other side, i.e Nightcrawler. Her skin was glowing, her lips were blossom red. Her murderous eyes looked at him with disgust and she hissed in pure contempt.

' Sanguisge' He scoffed, looking at her lowly. Sanguisge. Blood-sucking annelid. He said in his mind. No Survivers, the terms were very clear. She is to be disposed and put to rest for good.