Last Nite.

Like most of the time these things happen, I cannot recall its advent, the events which made up it's start. I do remember death, some of these deaths of my own hand, and running...always running.

But I was with friends. Three or four of them. On the run from someone somewhere, but we ran together.

The earliest memory was boarding the platform. Each time we reached a new area, there was a platform in a building. I believe the interior of each edifice looked the same: all walls made of tile the colour of corn kernels' many shades of yellow. Dim lighting, sometimes yellow, other times orange. The platorm was always by the bathroom.

Our final mission would be carried out in the rain. "It never rains in --" the last word I can't remember now. The Leader takes off running, his figure already rendered tiny by distance, descending a gradual decline. We follow him quickly, the rain washing over us, to a diamond fence, where soldiers convene for a meeting. We fugitives (?) wait in shadow.

One soldier is steps out before the others (I see only his back, washed in light), and he appears suddenly to be stabbed by several targeting-lasers. A barrage of bullets follows, and he is killed.

One of my foolish comrades, later, points his targeting-laser at a husky soldier near the fence The soldier turns around, intending to shoot my comrade, but does nothing: he is defenceless.