Silent and quiet

You flick the selector to safe, let the AK hang and draw your knife.

The guard on the truck hood never wakes up. You sneak closer and plunge you knife into his neck. He spasm for a short time and you hold him till he becomes dead weight. You slowly ease the body to the ground.

You slip between the trucks your boots soft on the stone. The extra magazines and grenades shift with every move, metal clinking against metal no matter how tight you pull the straps. The weight drags at your shoulders and pulls your balance low.

Inside the nave, lamplight flickers long shadows between the pillars. Two slavers talk in low voices near the altar with their backs half turned. You move along the wall, slow and silent.

Ten steps in and a loose grenade spoon taps the buckle of your belt. The tiny metallic tick. Both men spin.

You rush the nearest your knife already driving for his throat. He jerks his rifle up and the muzzle catches your chest rig your magazines clatter loud against stone. The blade still finds his neck, but the second man has time to shout.

Footsteps pound from the side aisles. A third slaver appears from behind a confessional his pistol raised. You throw yourself sideways, but the gear slows you down. The first bullet punches through the dump pouch and sparks off a magazine. The second takes you high in the chest, right where the stacked grenades sit.

You hit the floor hard. The impact jars everything loose.

One grenade rolls free, pin still in, but the spoon flips away with a soft ping.

Three seconds.

You try to crawl, but your arms won’t answer. The slavers back away fast with eyes wide.

The blast fills the cathedral with fire and stone.

Everything goes white, then black.

GAME OVER