Beyond the Walls <revenant>

>"He's bleeding badly! Someone get the styptics and sutures, this wound isn't going to close itself!"
>"Alright, seems to be fine, but we're going to have to keep an eye out for infection if we want him to live."
>"What do you mean, 'Throw him back in,' he's barely fucking conscious!"
>"Also, that -thing- nearly took his arm off! He won't survive another moment in there."
>"What if he dies this time? What if it kills him?"
>"Is it worth-"
>"Yes sir."

>"Hey, you dead or something?"
"What?"
>Dirt.
>There was bare soil beneath your feet.
>Cold too, like the tundra.
>"Well, you're awake, at least."
"Barely. Can't seem to keep my eyes open."
>"Whatever they gave you, it should be wearing off soon."
"Right."
>They were correct in their statement.
>The sluggish feeling in your body, as if your blood were replaced with tar was fading.
"Class A's. Huh."
>For some reason, no matter how hard they tried, none of it worked the way it should on you.
"So, Six, what's the plan this time? You going to claw my shoulder to bits, bite my foot in two, or some other bullshit?"
>"No. There's no point."
>You scoffed.
"Wow. Pacifism, from you of all people?"
>The claws flashed towards you and stopped right before they entered your throat.
"Just get it over with. I'm stuck here with your scaly ass 'til I die of old age. You know, if they don't do some anomalous mumbo-jumbo to keep me going."
>"You think I don't want to kill you? I only wish I could give you what you seem to crave. I desire to see the blood spray from your body after I'm finished carving it to pieces."
>The claw being dragged down your back should've gotten the hint across to you.
>Instead, it only made you laugh.
"Oh, I'm sure of that."
>You had the bright idea of reaching up and patting it on its armor-plated face.
>And there went one of your fingers.
>Bitten off, replaced with a searing pain in the shape of the missing digit.
>You didn't scream, you didn't even flinch.
>After being locked in here for months, pain was a sensation lost to you.
>After all, they wouldn't let you die.
>Not when you were apparently the only fucking thing standing in between the big ass lizard next to you and certain destruction of all life.
>If only you could go back to being a cop.
>Looking at the bright side though, this place had great healthcare.
>That missing finger would be back after you were invariably sent unconscious by Six's attacks.
>Maybe one of these days.
>Maybe you'd die.
>At this point, you didn't care anymore.
>"As always, your blood tastes awful."
"Then don't bite me, asshole. Scratch that, just fucking tear my head off or something."
>It snorted at you.
>"If I was capable of ending your miserable life, I would. I'll have to settle for hearing your screams as I take you apart."
"I hear ya', you scaly asshole. Talk big and do your fucking job or shut your trap."
>It fucking sighed after you said that.
>That wasn't a sound you'd ever expected to hear.
>"I want to escape this frigid room and hunt ever single one of those researchers down. These walls are impenetrable, so I can't. I'll have to settle for you."
>It's massive head tilted, and one of its many eyes caught your gaze.
>How the fuck could a giant, world-ending lizard look depressed?
>They were stuck here though, like you.
>You wanted nothing more than to either escape or die, so maybe it felt the same.
>It didn't help that it was around forty degrees in this damned room at all times.
"Maybe one day."
>"Hmm?"
"It's nothing."
>It wasn't nothing.
>You had a fucking kid, somewhere past these walls.
>That was your main reason to bust out of this box.
>You didn't care that Six would bust out too.
>It was your problem, but there wasn't much you could do to stop it besides arguing with it.
"Hey, Six."
>"What?"
"You think they have bugs in here?"
>"What are you planning?"
"Nothing yet. Not one for planning when I don't know all the pieces."
>"I've tried to breach containment many times. It always ends the same way."
>Shit.
>It picked up on your idea.
"What would you do if you got out?"
>"I'd end them all. They speak of anomalies, but the spark of life is one itself, residing in all of them."
>Whatever it was trying to say just went over your head.
>"They are a mistake, a disruption, like myself, like you."
"Huh. Neat."
>It was glaring at the wall panel that both of you knew contained a hidden camera.
"Is that why I can't die?"
>"I don't know. I think you're simply too ignorant to know that your body should be dead by now."
>You took a few strides back and slapped its flank.
"That might be it. Too stubborn to keel over."
>"Do not touch me."
>Its body was warm, a sharp difference from the icy air of the room.
>Instead of heeding its words, you tucked yourself between its two front limbs, much to its chagrin.
"You know, Six, you should give up this whole 'hard-to-destroy reptile' thing and just be a space heater."
>You were already drowsy from the warmth.
>It exhaled sharply and cocked its head back to look at you.
>"I presume that you're staying there, despite my desire to not have you touching me."
"Absolutely."
>You patted its thigh and closed your eyes.
>Gotta make this not a shitty experience if you can.
>If that means bothering the shit out of Six, and being a little creepy, then fuck it.

>"They're not here."
"What?"
>You sat up from your slumber, actually feeling well-rested for once.
>They tried giving you a bed and other comfort items, but Six destroyed them almost immediately.
>So that was out the window.
"Why is that important?"
>"They're all distracted right now."
>The usual safety lights weren't on either.
"What the hell is going on?"
>That's when a bubbling, acrid fluid started to pour into the room from slots along the corners of the ceiling.
>"A breach."
"Okay, and why is there suddenly acid jetting in here?"
>"Safety protocol. Faulty, of course. I've broken the balance caused by the acid already. It'll weaken the walls, but nothing will happen to me."
>Shit.
"What about me?"
>It looked back at you, almost as if it were raising an eyebrow.
>"What about you? I've been trying to get rid of you. This acid should end you rather quickly."
>What portion of Six's claws began to lengthen, and it started to walk towards the wall.
>You felt betrayed, but what did you expect?
>This was just the way Six was.
>You'd have to find your own way out.
>Which would be hard, because the acid was already beginning to pool on the floor.
>And Six was punching holes in the walls with its claws, climbing towards one of the acid vents.
>So much for indestructible.
>Then, your very own Deus Ex Machina came in the form of Six losing grip and sliding down the wall, tearing gaps in the material.
>After it leapt up once again, your view towards the gashes was unobstructed.
>They might serve as proper footholds.
>With that idea in mind, you took a running start and jumped onto the wall.
>The first detail you picked up was the fact that torn metal had a tendency to be sharp.
>Evident because of the blood now running down your hands and arms.
>The pain wasn't there, though.
>You just pulled yourself up at a crawling pace, but it was quick enough to put some distance between you and the now acid-doused floor.
>Six had already carved a path through the ceiling, and was long gone.
"On my own again. Great."
>Now wasn't the time to mourn, though.
>With great effort, you continued scaling the wall, rending flesh and bone along the way.
>At least your boots were holding up against the acid and sharp metal.
>What the fuck were they made of, anyways?
>It took a few minutes, but now you were hanging off of the edge of the chasm that Six carved into the wall.
>It was at least four meters of solid... whatever metal or alloy this was until a rough exit appeares on the other side.
>At least you were clear of the acid.
>You had to be a little more careful now.
>Indirect actions towards you could still kill, and without the accelerant provided by the administrators, you wouldn't heal as rapidly.
>Revenant, they called you.
>8270.
>What a cosmic fucking joke.
>A glance at your hands revealed flashes of white bone and bloodied tissue, with thin tendrils of both knitting the flesh of your palms back together.
>This was your curse.
>Six didn't know that you couldn't die.
>It just knew that it couldn't kill you.
>Only you knew how to die.
>There was one way out.
>That statement was relevant across your entire life.
>Down to this moment.
>The one way out of this clusterfuck being the tunnel through the wall.
>So you got your exhausted, injured, barely-awake ass moving through the passageway and into the next room.
>An observation area, it appeared, with screens lining the walls, likely peering at the cell you had been in from many angles.
>Wonderful.
>The path of destruction led through another wall instead of the actual door, leaving behind shredded remains of brick and steel.
"Hey! Six! You here?"
>Your voice echoed out into the darkness, the dim passage seeming to soak up and kill your voice midair.
>There was no response.
>No power, no light, nothing of that nature either.
"Anyone?"
>After failing to receive a response for the second time, you decided that it was useless to try again.
>So instead, you scrambled blindly through the room in search of anything resembling a portable light source.
>Which you found in the form of a dinky little flashlight.
>Pushing the switch forwards resulted in it emitting a small cone of light, enough to see with, but not enough to keep a thorough eye on your surroundings.
"It'll have to do."
>You stepped through the door, which was knocked to the floor and shredded to pieces, much like everything else Six decided to deal with.
>The hallway was an empty expanse of pitch blackness, stretching out in either direction for a long distance.
>All of it streaked with crimson.
>Bodies lay on the floor, bitten, shredded, torn to pieces, missing limbs and large portions of their bodies.
"Six?"
>You couldn't die.
>Just had to remind yourself before your heart decided to drive itself to bursting.
>Whatever was here wasn't a threat to you.
>So you stepped forwards, into the darkness, ready to fight anything that jumped out at you.
>Nothing did though, as you walked through the quiet hall, stepping over bodies and pieces of destroyed equipment.
>A twinkle against one of the researchers caught your attention, which you took a knee to inspect.
>It was a pistol.
>With five rounds in it.
>The hole going in one side and out the other of the woman's head told you where one of them was spent.
>You stood up and continued onward.
>Lights started to flicker, ventilation systems started to whir back to life.
>The emergency power must have come back on.
>You slid the flashlight's switch back and tucked it into your right pocket.
>It would be there if you needed it.
>Besides, it left you with both hands holding the pistol.
>What a natural, reassuring feeling, the weight of it in your hands, your body naturally shifting into the proper stance.
>Whatever else was in here couldn't be near as dangerous as Six, and none of it could hurt you anyways.
>So then, why were you shaking so much?
>Was it the idea that whatever was here, whatever horrors lay within this place could escape and wreak havoc on the world?
>Maybe it would all end, the world and all, leaving you trapped in some void until the universe also decided to end.
>There was a lack of understanding on your part on how the whole 'can't die' thing worked.
>After taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you realized that-
>Movement.
>Something further down, moving almost faster than your eyes could detect.
>The shriek of stone against the tile floor sent a chill up your neck.
"Six? If you're here, answer me!"
>No reply, only more creaking, scraping.
>So, being the smart person you were, you walked towards the source of the sound, pistol at the ready.
>The scraping ended when you turned the corner-
>And ended up face to face with a statue.
>You stepped back and raised your gun, looking for signs of movement.
>There was not a twitch.
>It remained stationary, though the odd face that appeared to be spray-painted on the oblong head appeared to be staring back at you with malice in each of those beady fucking eyes.
>You wondered if a bullet would do-
>And you were on the ground, facing downwards.
>You stood back up, and looked at the statue, which was now standing over you.
"Huh. You must've pushed me over. Can't do much else, can you?"
>Silence was the only response, as expected.
>Then you were back on the ground again, body slamming into the floor at an odd angle, resulting in a stinging feeling shooting up your ankle.
>It happened when you broke eye contact.
>Shit.
>It wasn't killing you, at least, but this would be a pain in the ass if it continued to knock you to the ground every time you needed to look elsewhere.
>Your foot was torqued to an odd angle, which wouldn't make it easier to get around on, for sure.
>While keeping your eyes on the statue, you reached over and twisted it back into place with a pop that made you recoil.
>Jesus, this wasn't natural.
>None of it was.
>Still keeping your eyes on the thing, you stood and backed away, all the while feeling your eyes itch with the need to blink.
>Goddamn weeping angel asshole.
>All you needed to do was round the corner again and find a door or something.
>It was hard to walk backwards without keeping an eye out behind you.
>You would've used your pistol, but there was a chance that it'd be a waste of ammunition.
>Backpedaling would have to do.
>Staring at the painted face of the statue, making your way over bodies that you could barely perceive.
>You felt along the wall until something shifted.
>It was a button.
>A door opened up beside you with a hiss, and you dived inside with a haste created by sheer desire to not have your ankle broken again.
>A button was present on the other side, which you slammed, resulting in the door in front of you closing.
"Eat shit, you concrete fuck!" you shouted through the door.
>It probably couldn't hear you, but that didn't prevent it from making you feel a little better about this entire nutroll.
>Now you wouldn't have to deal with the thing, but now you'd have to find a different path.
>You just hoped that Six hadn't escaped yet.
>Now that you didn't have to bother with the statue anymore, you were free to explore and investigate your surroundings.
>Beyond the door, there were no lights.
>The ventilation system here was down as well.
"Power's down here. Great."
>You decided that there wasn't anything else to accomplish by standing here and waiting, and started moving forwards.
"Six? You in here?"
>You shifted the switch on your light forwards, and it shone out, cutting through the dark and revealing a near pristine corridor.
>You halted at once after hearing something further down the hall.
"Could you guys just get out in the fucking light so I can shoot you?"
>"How about we avoid the fighting for now."
>European accent.
>Clanging footsteps rang out in the dark until a masked figure appeared in the light.
"What the fuck are you doing walking around with a Greek mask on your damned face?"
>A tragedy mask, to be specific.
>He was a researcher, by the look of his clothes, but he must have sustained an injury to the face, because there was blood running down behind it.
>"Weird circumstances. Aren't you 8270?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
>The tone in their voice was almost excited.
>"You were in with six-eighty-two, correct? Where is it?"
"I don't know. Been looking for it since it clawed its way out of the cell. By the way, you guys should've really done a better job with that."
>He shook his head.
>"Tell me about it. We should keep moving, by the way. I know you've got regenerative capabilities, but that's no reason to-"
>You raised the pistol at him.
"You've only got a level two clearance from the badge on your coat. I'm guessing you missed the bit where level threes and above are the ones who have full info on how I tick."
>"Oh dear me. I've made a mistake."
>And they laughed.
>Which was the most bone-chilling sound you've ever heard.
>"Does that matter anymore? We're all going to perish from the nuclear warhead beneath the facility anyways."
>Nukes?
>Jesus.
>Would that even kill Six?
>Or any of the things here?
>"Put the gun down. I can't be killed, and even if I could, it certainly wouldn't be to a damned bullet."
>That didn't stop you from shooting through the left eye of the mask.
>With a click, crack, and bang, the bullet lanced through the space between you and into their face.
>They staggered backwards for a moment before regaining their stance, and laughing.
>Blood seeped down from the damaged eye, leaving sanguine streaks down the otherwise perfectly white surface of the mask.
>It almost looked like it was crying blood.
>"Did you -have- to do that? This body's going to fall apart faster if you damage its integrity further."
"Kind of the plan. Unless you feel like walking away and leaving me to-"
>"To what? Hunt down the lizard on your own? You've got a gun, and that's it."
>He... he had a point.
>Right when you were about to fire a rebuttal, they chimed in again.
>"The Foundation has been trying to get rid of it for many, many years."
>They started walking down the hall, beckoning you to follow.
>There wasn't much else you could do, already having wasted one of your shots.
>So you followed.
"What are you, anyways?"
>"SCP-035 is what they call me. Otherwise known as the only one here that can actually get rid of the hard-to-destroy reptile."
>They seemed serious, and you couldn't help but believe them.
"How? How are -you- going to take that thing down?"
>"Easy. You see the body I'm using, correct?"
"What do you mean by 'using', exactly?"
>They tapped the mask, creating a slight ringing.
>"This is me. I'm the mask. Now, I shouldn't be telling you all of this, because you'll be able to use this against me, but I'm going to trust you with this information."
"If you can keep Six- the lizard, I mean, from getting out and wreaking havoc, then I'm not going to stop you."
>"Hmm. You... you seem to have an attachment to it, don't you?"
"Probably. Six was kind of the only thing I was able to talk to for months. Sort of Stockholm Syndrome, I guess."
>They turned right at an intersection of hallways, and you caught a glimpse of large, black doors on one side.
>"I want to make sure that it is fine with you if we end up going through with this."
>As they walked, moving past another group of corpses, they looked back at you over their shoulder.
>"Six won't exist if you put the mask on it. Their mind will be cleared, and I'll take control."
>Once again, you didn't care what happened, as long as you, your wife, and the kid you apparently have are okay.
>Fuck everything else.
>"I'll have a body that isn't wasting away, and the Foundation won't have to deal with one of the greatest threats to existence anymore."
"That... sounds like a good plan."
>"Now, if this body breaks down before we get there, you're going to have to either find a body and take it to me, or take me to a body."
"That's a bit morbid, don't you think?"
>"So is the imminent death of humanity, any other life in the universe, and quite possibly the universe itself."
"Right."
>That rendered you speechless for a period of time, which you were sure that thirty-five was pleased about.
>He... it, they, what the hell should you call the damned thing?
>It talked like a man, so that's what you were going with.
>Anyways, he continued to lead you somewhere, and you trailed along behind him for what you could estimate for ten minutes.
>"Stop."
>He held up an open hand in the air, gesturing in case you didn't understand English.
"What is it?"
>You raised your pistol, just in case something needed to be shot.
>"You hear that?"
>There was nothing but the two of you, breathing, the occasional pop of electrical wiring, and the vents.
"Nothing."
>"Let's keep moving."
>The compound was in a terrible state, as you saw while moving through it.
>There were so many dead, an innumerable amount of lives lost in the most terrible ways.
>Some were disfigured, burned, frozen, torn apart, melted, or some other signature left behind by a thing that shouldn't exist.
>"I told them. I told them that this would happen. They didn't listen. They're too worried about losing power, about someone else taking the reigns from them, and showing that there's someone that can do their job better."
>He sounded calm, despite the obvious hate in his words.
"You've got your chance now."
>"That is true. Also, be quiet. The M.T.F. has arrived."
"What?"
>You were able to hear the crackling of a radio, and near silent chatter from quite a distance.
>"They're going to gun us both down if we don't take them out first."
"We could just go around them, you know."
>"You've got a pistol and regenerative capabilities. They've got assault rifles, body armor, and fresh bodies."
>He stood behind you as you glanced beyond the door.
>Nine people.
>Armed to the teeth.
>They looked like someone took the concept of SWAT and ran them through the imagination of a violent teenager.
>You weren't likely to get out of this one without a few holes.

>This wasn't a good idea.
>Something in your head told you that you didn't have to fight them.
>So you stepped out, around the corner, directly in view of the soldiers.
>And dropped the gun.
>"Contact!"
>"Hold your fire!"
>You let out the breath that you'd been holding for the past few minutes.
>All nine of them had their weapons trained on you, verdant lasers on your chest, arms, legs, and head.
>"Resistant properties, aim for the limbs and neck!"
"Holy shit, guys! Don't fire, don't-"
>Instead of the shots erupting from the men in front of you and sawing you apart, you heard four shots in rapid succession from behind you.
>Blood sprayed from the weak points in the armor of the ones hit, and immediately the corridor was filled with bullets.
>You dropped to the ground, avoiding most of the fire, but the stinging pressure in your left shoulder and calf told you that some wounds were acquired during the short firefight.
>A glance sent to your left showed you the absence of the masked man.
>He left you behind, to the mercy of these soldiers.
>"Report!"
>"One, three, four, seven, and nine are alive. The others are... incapacitated."
>"Where is thirty-five?"
>"Down the west hall."
>You tried to play dead to the best of your ability, but to no avail.
>One of them grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you up into a standing position.
>The green lights of their low light vision equipment made the surrounding area hard to see as your eyes adjusted.
>"Eight-two-seven-zero," they said, letting go once you were on your own two feet.
>The insignia on their shoulder was marked with a 'VII', reminding you that four of their unit just died.

>You stepped back.
"Yeah, that's the number."
>You heard one of the soldiers behind Seven pipe up, asking, "What do we do about him?"
>"We can't exactly kill him. His properties prevent that."
"Then why were you shooting at me if you knew this?" you asked.
>Once again, you couldn't be killed through the acts of any others, save for one person.
>Who you wouldn't meet here, for damned sure.
>Seven spoke up while lowering their gun, "We weren't aiming for you. The one in the back, the masked one. Oh-three-five. We've been tracking them."
"Are they that dangerous?"
>"You don't know the half of it. Let's get moving after them. One, stay behind and tend to the fallen," Seven ordered.
>"Understood," they replied.
>Then they removed a small container from their vest, a vial of some fluid.
>You were interrupted by someone tossing an assault rifle into your hands.
>After catching it and giving it a cursory inspection, you looked up at who should be Three.
>"You used to be a cop, so let's hope that sense of justice or morality has stayed with you, because we're going to need a helping hand here," they said.
>You still weren't able to tell their gender by their voice.
>It was so synthetic, which rendered that effort that was a practical impossibility.
>The rifle in your hands was also something you've never seen before, a piece of tech that looked as if it were pulled straight from a science fiction story.
>"Fall in behind Nine," Three said, then gave you a prompting nudge.
"Sure."

>So you proceeded to follow them.
>It was quiet to an unsettling degree, though the occasional chatter between the soldiers you were following kept the drowning silence at bay.
>Why they had decided to trust you was a mystery.
>They did know about your history as a police officer, and the record that followed you was one that told of your honesty and unshakable sense of morality.
>That didn't mean anything at all, though.
>When you're at the wrong end of a gun, seeing the burst of smoke and light following that click, a fucking sense of justice wasn't going to keep your brains from being splattered out the back of your skull.
>It didn't stop you from being pulled out of the abyss of death, forced back into a body buried beneath ten feet of soil, hard packed dirt, and stone.
>The taste of earth and rot hung in your memory, as well as choking, gasping, suffocating beneath the ground.
>You never stopped breathing, the heart within your chest never stopped beating, and you never stopped clawing away at the ground from below until you tore yourself out from beneath it.
>You weren't allowed to die, not yet, not until that bastard was dead.
>Nine, the soldier in front of you, lifted their hand in a halting gesture once you and the others reached another intersection.
>The following quiet was punctuated with clicking and buzzing sounds that were almost imperceptible.
>"Three, flash out," Nine whispered.
>Instead of Three throwing a flashbang, as you would expect from the command, they strode forwards, not making a single sound.
>They shifted their hand forwards on the rifle, and you heard a single, resounding click.
>It was a rifle grenade, evident by its trademark launching sound, that was launched around the corner.
>An eruption of light, pressure, and sound was emitted beyond that wall, reaching around it just enough that you felt a pop in your ears.
>Nine looked around the corner after the explosion, then shouted, "Go!"

>You weren't exactly prepared for the sight of it, but there were a few people running around in some odd garb.
>Robes and shit, the whole ensemble.
>The more ridiculous thing was the fact that they all had automatic rifles.
>AK-fucking-fourty-sevens, the lot of them.
>The fuckers were blinded by the flashbang, it seemed, and some of them were on the ground, probably knocked clean out cold by the burst of force and light.
>Flashbangs, man, they aren't anything to fuck with.
>You were standing in the center of a group of ally soldiers, primed and ready to fire upon a myriad of not-so-innocent probably-terrorists.
>There was a rifle in hand, and you had it aimed at one of the robes.
>It brought you back to the days of being an officer, though you'd never used a gun like this.

>As you watched the squad around you start firing, you also saw the people before you fall.
>Bullets ripped into a pistol-carrying woman who screamed until her throat was blown through.
>That was your cue.
>Another robed figure was booking it the fuck out of there, but you were having none of it.
>The rifles were odd, sure, but they were well designed.
>Next to no recoil, and they were accurate in your hands.
>Accurate enough to send a bullet right into the calf of the runner.
>A flash of blonde hair spilled from the hood of the robe as they fell, long and moving with the air.
>You shot another three gunners before they could recover from the flashbang.
>Pools of blood were made from the emptying bodies of the recently shot, and you looked over at your squadmates.
>They were untouched, even as the robed guys you thought dead were standing back up and firing.
>Apparently, it's hard to aim without half a head.
>And beyond them, the blonde is crawling.
>Footsteps sound from your left, and gunshots begin.
>Two strike your shoulder, sparking pain and forcing your aim off of the shorter man you were shooting apart.
>That's what this turned into: shooting people to pieces.
>After another few seconds of shouting and gunfire, you heard an exclamation of pain.
>Four was down, shot in the chest, right through their armor.
>This situation was deteriorating quickly.

>Time seemed to slow down for a moment as you took stock of the situation.
>Two targets to your side, one of which just disabled your left arm.
>A squad member down, screaming as they fall to the floor, still firing away at the living-dead robed folks.
>The blonde one just pulled out what looks like a grenade launcher.
>And you're right smack in the middle of this.
>The hall behind you is still clear, but holy hell is there a lot happening.

>That grenade won't do.
>It'll leave you blown apart, not something you'd like to do, really.
>The explosion will also kill most, if not all of the team.
>So, you lift your right arm, bracing the weight of the gun on your left's forearm, and damn near empty the clip into the blonde.
>There went her eyes, her hands, and a bullet struck the weapon she was holding after a few more tore into her.
>So... she wasn't an issue anymore.
>Maybe to the cleaning crew though.
>At the same time, you called out to the others.
>Seven was the closest to you.
"Seven, Nine-o-clock!"
>Bullets whizzed by your face, and their -hands- disappeared, blown apart.
>How the hell they were so accurate was lost on you.
>The guns could only help so much.
>At least the more pertinent threats were gone, and comparatively, you got out with nary a fucked up thing.
>The other robed figures were shot apart, literally torn limb from limb by consistent rifle fire.
>These fucking bullets.
>It was over in what felt like half a minute.
>You looked over to see Four being patched up by Nine.
>Everyone here survived.