The reinforcements were already massing outside. I had maybe two minutes before the doors blew in and the next wave of mercs poured through. Two minutes to find out if this massacre had meant anything.
I sprinted through the blood-slick hallways that held the testament of the carnage I had created, boots splashing through pools that mirrored the emergency strobes in dark, pulsing reflections. Brass casings crunched underfoot, corpses staring up at me with glassy eyes that still hadn't caught up to death.
The corridor opened into the detention block. Rows of steel doors, observation slits like staring eyes, the stench of disinfectant and old terror baked into the concrete.
First cell—empty cot.
Second—empty.
Third, fourth, fifth—nothing but buckets of filth and silence.
"Come on…" My hands were shaking as I tore through the locks. "Come on, Margaret. Be here. fucking be here. Please—"
Sixth, seventh, eighth.
Empty.
