Two survivors.

One laying in a pool of his own blood in the corner, barely breathing. The other crawling slowly across the rubble and gore coating the floor, with only the candle flicker of dying fires to light his way.

Outside the shattered windows the sounds of war would come through clear, if either man still had functioning eardrums. Bullets flying, bombs exploding, brief flashes of garish light illuminating the terrifying scene.

A sputtering cough from the corner, a wheeze, and silence.

One survivor.

Almost at his goal, dragging useless legs behind him as he reaches up to the desktop, and punches in a code he hoped he would never need to use. Bootsteps down the hallway, getting closer. One last desperate lunge, punching a final control.

Deep below the ground, a sudden rushing together, the bonds of matter torn, a chain reaction set in motion. A release, a flash of light.

No survivors.

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