The pant and sweat as they run through steel corridors. Blast doors slam shut behind them, one after another, barely holding under the pressure building up behind them. The ripping sound of decompressing atmosphere fills their ears. The space outside the reinforced windows clutters with debris.
They keep on running, vainly trying to stay ahead of approaching
explosions. Light flashes in the depths beyond the windows and their eyes are almost
instantly overwhelmed. The whole building shakes them to the ground in a tangled
mess of limbs and bodies.
Everything is noise and the smell of burning; not even their
sense of touch surviving the ripping of plastic and metal. All they can see is
white light, burning through contracted irises and melting its shape onto retinas.
Some manage to struggle to their feet and grasp for the
walls, only to feel exposed wiring instead as the walls around them peel away
from the heat.
And then the sound goes too.
They all wake up, still in a pile, on something painfully
solid.
*beep!*
“Hello, it is time for your rehabilitation.”
*beep!*
“Please, do not be alarmed.”
*beep!*
“Hello, it is time for your rehabilitation.”
*beep!*
“Please, do not be alarmed.”
*beep!* *beep!* *beep!*
*beep!* *beep!* *beep!*
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