[ The alarms make him jump -- which isn't particularly difficult, given the fact that he's wound up tighter than a spring. Then the recorded voice is going off, and he thinks, SHit, they found us. He's about to start demanding Goto's location, asking if she's okay, and then she responds before he can. He sighs in relief. ]
Wasn't me, either. Look, just hurry back--
[ ... And then the recording continues (and Peter hates recorded emergency messages, hates how goddamn calm they always sound), and something cold and heavy drops in his gut. Peter has a moment to think, The hell do they mean by "unable to contain"? before he hears the brief rapport of gunfire, ending with an all too human, all too wet scream from behind one of the doors. And then he hears the scraping of dragging footsteps, hears low, almost metallic moans coming from behind not just one door, but all of them.
One of the doors collapses under the combined weight of grey, ashen, too-thin bodies, skin covered in wiring and tubes and glinting metal, and Peter has just enough time to pull his blasters from his holsters and back up to the entrance. Another door collapses, then another, then another, and Peter is quickly realizing there's a hoard of motherfucking Reaper zombies standing between him and his partner; that he's got his back to a door he can't open, because Kasumi has the transmitter; and that he's so. Fucking. Screwed. ]
Goto. I've got a problem.
[ It's all he can manage to get out before a pair of unnatural blue eyes finally spots him, and a grating scream cuts through the directionless moaning. The creature leaps at him just as all the others turn to face him, and Peter thinks, I'm so fucked, before he begins firing. ]
no subject
[ The alarms make him jump -- which isn't particularly difficult, given the fact that he's wound up tighter than a spring. Then the recorded voice is going off, and he thinks, SHit, they found us. He's about to start demanding Goto's location, asking if she's okay, and then she responds before he can. He sighs in relief. ]
Wasn't me, either. Look, just hurry back--
[ ... And then the recording continues (and Peter hates recorded emergency messages, hates how goddamn calm they always sound), and something cold and heavy drops in his gut. Peter has a moment to think, The hell do they mean by "unable to contain"? before he hears the brief rapport of gunfire, ending with an all too human, all too wet scream from behind one of the doors. And then he hears the scraping of dragging footsteps, hears low, almost metallic moans coming from behind not just one door, but all of them.
One of the doors collapses under the combined weight of grey, ashen, too-thin bodies, skin covered in wiring and tubes and glinting metal, and Peter has just enough time to pull his blasters from his holsters and back up to the entrance. Another door collapses, then another, then another, and Peter is quickly realizing there's a hoard of motherfucking Reaper zombies standing between him and his partner; that he's got his back to a door he can't open, because Kasumi has the transmitter; and that he's so. Fucking. Screwed. ]
Goto. I've got a problem.
[ It's all he can manage to get out before a pair of unnatural blue eyes finally spots him, and a grating scream cuts through the directionless moaning. The creature leaps at him just as all the others turn to face him, and Peter thinks, I'm so fucked, before he begins firing. ]