Rick pushed the heavy metal door of the supply closet all the way open. The hallway was a slaughterhouse.
Thick red blood coated the white linoleum tiles. Severed limbs, melted tactical gear, and shattered weapons littered the corridor. The strong, coppery smell of fresh blood completely overpowered the harsh scent of industrial bleach that clung to their clothes.
"Move," Rick ordered, stepping out into the carnage.
Rachel hesitated. She was trembling, staring at the headless corpse of a Corporate Oversight mercenary lying right in front of the door. Her torn emerald dress clung wetly to her heavy curves.
Rick didn't have the patience for a panic attack. He reached back and grabbed a massive handful of her bare right ass cheek. He squeezed the soft, warm flesh brutally, his bloody fingers leaving deep red smears on her pale skin.
"Ah!" Rachel gasped, her eyes snapping up to his.
