The world was a full of red lights and screaming alarms.
Heavy, metallic thuds echoed through the corridors as blast doors slammed shut, turning the pristine, white laboratory into a cage.
"Okay, so, on a scale of one to 'we are all going to die in a blaze of glory', how screwed are we right now?" Leo's voice crackled over their comms, his tone a high-pitched, frantic buzz of pure, unadulterated panic.
"Because I'm feeling a pretty solid 'blaze of glory'."
"I just want to manage my expectations."
Miles ignored him.
His mind was a cold, clear, and deeply focused instrument of tactical analysis.
He was a ghost in his element.
Chaos was his home turf.
He could see them on his internal heads-up display, the red dots representing the approaching security forces, dozens of them, converging on their position from every conceivable angle.
They were a tidal wave of boots and guns, and his team was a small, fragile island about to be washed away.
