General Matthew stood at the open window of his twentieth-floor office, gazing out at the toxic skyline. The double doors burst open behind him. He turned to face a dark figure in a leather trench coat, face obscured by bandages, moving with a pronounced limp.

  "Who are you?" General Matthew demanded as the figure closed the distance between them, stopping mere inches away.

  "You don't remember an old friend?" The voice was familiar, sending a chill down Matthew's spine.

  "Hello, old friend." Matthew's voice wavered.

  "What do you want?" The figure's hand moved to his pocket.

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  "Sorry, old friend." The gun appeared, pressing against Matthew's temple.

  "What do you think you are?" Matthew snarled. The figure chuckled, reaching up with his free hand to unwrap the bandages, revealing a face hideously scarred by burns.

  "You're alive?" Matthew's eyes widened in shock. The figure forced him back against the window until he was half-suspended over the drop.

  "Long live the army." Ron's burnt face twisted into a smile as he gave Matthew one final push.

  "Nicht das Gesicht!" Matthew's scream ended abruptly with a sickening impact twenty stories below.

  Ron limped to Matthew's desk and lowered himself into the chair. The door swung open again as a soldier entered. "General Ron, what do you want us to do about the other leaders?"

  "Kill them," Ron replied without hesitation.

  "Yes, sir." The soldier's footsteps faded away.

  Ron sat alone in his newly acquired office, a smile playing across his scarred features. Everything was going according to plan.