Chapter 8: Killing.

"Alright boys, all of you are grown men who understand the hardships of having no roof over your head during normal times, let alone the inbound crisis on the way."

A hulk of a man in a ripped tactical uniform and a silver nameplate chained like a necklace around his neck was talking. He leaned forward, his oversized boots pressing the cheek of a bedraggled vulture in a sorry state. The vulture writhed on the ground, attempting to lift the heavy foot off his face, but to no avail.

The courtyard was split in two, one side occupied by a silent crowd with jeering expressions on their faces, standing proudly behind the hulk of a man, while the other side had split in two—those who wanted to rush forward and fight, and those who struggled to hold them back with all they could.