???'s POV
Hi there, I'm Wolf Borys, and I am your average death creature as a 15-year-old Chaos Insurgency soldier from the Midwest. I had a week-long school break from my Ohio hometown of Fort Jennings in the restored US. Why that specific town you might ask? Well, that is the hometown and final resting place of my final human victim back in that snowy Dark Day: a barista named Catherine Borys. I still remembered that dark day when, under Kal's spells, barged into her café with a heavy M249 machine gun and slaughtered her fellow survivors before finishing her off with the same heavy gun and then, I shot her head with my pistol and then, I stabbed her neck and heart with a serrated hunting dagger. When the spell broke with Mr. Francisco Alissenda's death under Ceo in Francisco's own estate in sunny Valencia 3 years ago, I teared up at the young barista's demise. I still remembered how sobbed so hard the ground shook and the snow outside became a blizzard for a good 20 seconds.
I thought I was liberating the world from oppression, but I ended up turning the world into a graveyard instead.
The only good thing came from this dark chapter is that we did not throw the bodies of the victims to the anomalies we had later recaptured and re-contained in the restored SCP Foundation containment facility.
After my squad and I gave the honoring burials Catherine and the other victims deserved, I raised my M249 machine gun at the sky and emptied an entire magazine of it while screaming to the sky as if I could say sorry to the departed. As a death creature, magazines for any of our guns when we held them were unlimited. Thus, the world is blessed with free metal from the spent casings. After that gun salute, we picked up the scattered spent casings and recycled them as new household items. I still possessed two of the reforged metals as a spatula and a spoon back at the suburbs of Fort Jennings, Ohio in Catherine's humble suburban home next to a convenience store and a small arcade.
Now as I settled down on my comfy bed in this hotel here in Nagoya, Japan, I looked at the lights of the Ikigami Messengers' local nightly street festivals through the window. I already ate dinner on my way from the airport on that long-distance bus ride. I had a New York hotdog with bun and mustard drizzles on it. I then changed my Chaos Insurgency gear into my casual clothes in the form of white and blue pajamas that I had packed into my roller bags, tucking my soldier gear neatly for tomorrow's shooting range and tag battle at Nagoya's Shooting Center.
And then, as I lay down on my bed, the spirit of Catherine Borys, that Ohio barista with blonde, long hair and green eyes, appeared to me.
"How's your long flight?" she chirped.
"Long, exhausting, yet worth it," I replied as I stared at the ceiling.
"I see. So, what will you do here?"
"We will hit the shooting range tomorrow morning after breakfast and do some tag battles with the Ikigami messengers if they are available for an hour or less, and then, we will swing by the famous Nagoya Castle the brochures were talking about."
"Wow, that sounds like a nice itinerary you have, Wolf."
"Yep, I wanted to have some fun. Besides, the education system in the Midwest was better than the ones the humans had devised back before Kal summoned us from the Abyss with the six obsidian tablets in the middle of the Colosseum in Rome."
"Surely your sector leader Hänsel Pawel learned the mistakes of the humans."
"Yes."
The next morning came, and after a nice breakfast of miso soup and some bread, we had a taxi ride to Nagoya's Shooting Center south of the city center. There I, in my full Chaos Insurgency soldier attire with gas mask and weapons, entered and paid a 500-yen entrance fee at the receptionist desk. When I was offered whether it would be a shooting spree at the targets or a tag team battle, I first selected the first option, opting the second one for later.
After that, I marched to one of the shooting ranges on the left side of the big building decked in Kamakura architecture. One of the slots was vacant, so I took it and took a menace-like breath through my red-tinted gas mask. I whipped my M249 and aimed it at the painted thick concrete wall obstacle 10 meters away from the shooting line. I pulled the trigger.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
The muzzle spat out the bullets fast and in droves.
After consuming half of the magazine, I put the gun down, and I pulled out my grenade launcher, the mighty RGP-40.
I pulled the trigger and fired 12 rounds at the battered yet resilient wall.
Explosions happened 12 times, and the magazine refilled itself.
I panted for my breath. "That was fun…"
"Was it?" the spirit of Catherine asked while hovering near me.
"Yeah, it was. Worth the long trip."
I sat down as a death creature as a facility cleaner picked up the spent casings and gathered them in a bucket.