Sand and dust hover motionless above the ground. The sun glares down. The occasional wind gets caught between these ancient walls, its whining voice the only sound to be heard and the Question remains: Whom do you trust, when your eye can't pierce the yellow sheet of the desert? Is it what you hear . . . ? Your line of sight . . . ? Mortal experience . . . ? The warm trigger of your laser-guided Rocket Launcher . . . ? No . . . ? It is your Instincts then, you have to rely on in order to survive. Your Instinct will guide you. Nothing else. Your Fatal Instinct.