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Could be

When we couldn’t hear the helicopters anymore, we knew they’d abandoned us. Though from their point of view we’d be MIA. At least until they saw our dismembered corpses being paraded through the street.
There were just three of us. A Seargent, a PFC, ad myself. We had no way out. Certain death was on the other side of the door. All we could do was wait. Crouching in the dark, watching the door counting our last breaths, thinking our final thoughts.
The walls were paper thin. We could already hear them searching apartments just down the hall. Screams were answered by bursts of machine gunfire.
It was too dark to see all the rats, but we could hear their claws tapping on the floor. They were coming to scavenge the softening flesh of the bodies piled on the bed. A fat one brushed up against my foot, and I kicked the back end of its plump body as it scurried away.
A few units over someone squeezed the trigger and bullet snapped in my ear. There was a flash of pain and the warmth of spilling blood. I clenched my teeth and kept quiet. Then I heard the Sargent laugh.
“Oh, I see what’s going on here. This is a good one! You almost got me,” the Seargent chuckled.
“Sir?” asked the PFC
“Yeah, this must be a newer version of the software. It’s pretty good!” The Seargent said, ignoring the private.
More bullets tore through the walls and ricocheted around the room. They were closing in on us. The silver lining of imminent death are the moments when you realize you’re effectively free of any consequences and things like the military code of conduct get dropped pretty quickly.
Shut the fuck up!” I barked at the babbling Seargent.
“Boys this is just a simulation,” The Seargent said. “We won’t really die.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, surprised I could feel so irritated given the circumstances.
“We’re in a Virtual reality simulation,” The Seargent said as if he thought that should be obvious to us by now. “I’ve done a few of these before when you “die” you just wake up back inside the simulator.”
“I don’t remember going in any simulator,” The PFC said skeptically.
“Well, don’t you think that would defeat the purpose?” asked the Seargent.
The Seargent dropped his M4 and pulled his service pistol from his holster. “Beers on me!” he shouted before pressing the barrel of the gun into the pink flesh of his mouth and pulling the trigger.
His head exploded like a melon, and the shot was immediately noticed by the militia outside. This was it. We were about to find out if all of this was just a simulation or not.

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