Warning: Violence
The memory comes on the heels of a combination of cold and fear, washed through with a wary anticipation that something needed to be happening. It was too quiet, too still for things to be considered even remotely safe, and it leaves you feeling anxious and worried. And then the voices come, shouts in the distance, but you can't leave where you are. This is your post, your assignment, and you know that if you leave, take even one step out of the room, you'll jeopardize everything that you have been working on. So you try to calm your fears, to focus on the task at hand, but even that becomes impossible when the sound of gunfire erupts too close to your location.
No longer are you filled with what you should be doing, no. Now it becomes a task of what you have to be doing, and that's saving yourself. Somehow, this clears your mind, gives you something to really focus on, and as you gather your equipment, the bags that you've brought with you, the world erupts around you in a flash of searing heat, blinding red, and a pain so sharp that for a precious moment, there is nothing else other than that. Your ears ring, muffling the goings on around you so that even the gunshots that fire oh so close are barely recognizable. The back of your head throbs, and dimly you know that's not a good thing, but there's a weight baring down on you, making it hard to move your arms, your legs, to do anything other than exist as a fire rages somewhere nearby. At least it's warm, the only solace in the destruction, and that's your last thought before you sink down into the darkness as it winds its arms around you.