The deafening, mechanical shriek of the Stadium-wide klaxon vibrated directly through the thick rubber soles of Ren's combat boots.
The harsh, strobing emergency lights washed the opulent beige carpet of Suite 114 in a violent, pulsating red glare. The climate-controlled air tasted sharply of vaporized copper from Major Sterling's arterial blood, violently mixing with the heavy, metallic ozone bleeding from the dormant vibro-sword resting at Ren's hip. The aggressive combination entirely suffocated the lingering scent of rich sandalwood soap radiating from Chloe's damp skin.
Ren did not bother reaching for the brass deadbolt. He stepped forward, planting his left boot firmly against the Persian rug, and drove his right heel directly into the center of the heavy mahogany door.
