Tarkov- The Rogue

Chapter 4- A blur

He walked out of the building alone.  His uniform was covered in blood, he was breathing heavily, and his head was pounding.  What had he done?  It seemed almost like a blur.  All he remembered were the screams.  They bounced around in his head, as if mocking him.  What had he done?  Why did he do it?  How could he do it?  They were his brothers in arms, friends.  Suddenly he fell on one knee and proceeded to vomit into the street.  He couldn't believe it.  Forcing the thought aside, he picked up his rifle and kept walking.  

Time had long since stopped registering to Knight.  What day, month, or year was it?  He had no idea.  Only thing he knew was sunrise and sunset.  He had run out of food, and water was dwindling.  Only thing worse was his ever-growing fatigue.  Every footstep became heavier, breathing was difficult, and the pit in his stomach grew every second.  The only thought in his head was that he must keep going.  He must never stop, lest the vultures of Tarkov start closing in.  He had no idea what he was supposed to do or who to contact for extraction.  Suddenly, the blackness closed in, and he finally let himself black out.  

Knight was awoken by voices.  He opened his eyes just barely to be met by 3 scavs, picking through his gear.  Adrenaline spread through his body as he sprung up with surprising strength holding his knife.  His rifle was taken but if he was quick enough, he might be able to take them down.  This thought was immediately shattered when he found himself staring down a 12 gauge shotgun barrel.  No single movement was faster than a trigger pull.  Knowing there was no way out of this, Knight begrudgingly dropped his blade and put his hands up.  The scav kept the gun trained on Knight while he reached down and removed his pistol from it's holster.  "So now what, are you gonna kill me?" asked Knight sarcastically.  The Scav then pressed the muzzle against Knight's temple.  "Silence American swine, go, walk, now," the Scav said in broken English.  "Fine," said Knight as he slowly started walking.  

The death march had begun.  Knight's fatigue was at an all time high.  Certain parts of his mouth no longer moistened, and he almost felt his face sink in.  His vision became blurry and even breathing became a herculean task.  Any time he stopped or attempted to drink or eat something, he was hit in the legs or back with the shotgun stock.   Silently, Knight was planning his revenge on this scav.  Just as he felt his knees buckle, they came to a stop in front of a large gate.  "Where the hell are we?" asked Knight weakly.  "Inside, now," said the scav.