Alex stared through his sights in silence, centering the diopter's focus on the cranium of an individual some three stories down, across the street. Through the special-issue earplugs he heard higher decibels at a muffled roar, but quiet sounds he could make out in detail. This made him almost uniquely privy a rare and strange sound. A sound that now haunted him. He wanted to hear that popping sound that followed a split second after the gunshot. The wet, fleshy noise of a skull bursting open like a ripe fruit. It fed into a hunger locked away in some dark corner of his own mind. A hunger that desired, simply, that he murder every living thing in that abandoned village just to hear each individual cranium make that distinct pop. He ignored the urge, but... that sound. It haunted him. Alex wondered if this was what it was like to be a borderline psychopath.