Stepping out of the cover, a barrage of gunfire erupted, with countless bullets shooting towards Palmer.
Palmer walked as if he were strolling, neither dodging nor blocking.
He strode forward into the rain of bullets, heading towards certain death. Yet, he showed no fear, his face flushed with excitement, and his eyes bloodshot.
His heart was pounding violently, fresh blood pumped fresh oxygen to his entire body. His lungs expanded, breathing deeply and rapidly, his whole body becoming hot, like a fully activated machine running at high speed.
Danger thrilled Palmer, bringing a maddening thrill, akin to surfing on the sea. He almost wanted to laugh out loud.
At the moment he raised his handgun, that eerie, ghostly voice echoed in his mind.
"Palmer Clarks."
In the chaotic and hazy gray-white mist, an unknowable presence reached out countless arms towards him, lifting him until he faced the blazing white multiply-eyed anomaly.
