Night 46: M41-50 Hallway
[from here]
622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.
He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.
622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.
He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.
Depth Charge wasn't quite sure what he'd expected from them when it came to the Institute's nightly torture sessions- sound, fury and a whole lot of psychotic scrap, probably, the whole cliched shebang. The fact that it had been such a smooth operation both surprised and revolted him. The fact that he hadn't even realised what was going on downright terrified him.
How could he have let them just... walk out the door with his own roommate? Was he crazy? Was he smelting stupid? Primus, he'd watched the enemy invade his turf and take out one of his soldiers, and what was he doing now? Sitting at his desk in the dark and wondering. Wondering just how far he'd managed to fall in such a short space of time.
Where the Pit was his common sense?! Depth Charge felt his fists tighten. He should've seen the warning signs when the nurse had appeared at the door, but no, he'd... he'd...
No. He had to focus. Somewhere, upstairs, the Scarecrow was being held captive, and with him was some sadistic son-of-a-gear that needed to be taught a lesson. The crowbar under his mattress suddenly looked like the height of technological sophistication. A nanoklik later and it was in his hand and the door flung wide open. Tonight, it was war.
[To here]
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