Michael kicked open the door to his squad car, hand already on his gun. Damn wackos, this guy had come to work firing. He and his partner, Ryans, both approached the elegant, glass-fronted building. “Jesus.” He murmured. The sight of the bodies strewn across the lobby floor jolted him. He took a deep breath, motioned for Ryans to follow. Four other cars had arrived.

They stepped up to the door of the building, guns drawn, and slipped inside. The guy wasn’t in the lobby, he was done here. Michael picked his way over bodies, moving steadily toward the stairs. Four other cops moved alongside him, three moved to clear the elevator. They pushed the button, then stepped back and aimed. No one walked- or crawled- out, and a chorus of “Clear!” sounded.

Michael entered the stairwell with two other men, and they began their ascent. At the third floor landing, they heard a door open somewhere above them, saw light. Someone was entering the fourth floor stairs. Everyone proceeded with caution. “Alright, move.”