Character blog for Nyx Ashkala of Balmung/Mateus. Seeker of the Sun with an obsession for firearms, being an independent shithead, and cigarettes.Follow backs will be from @guns-smoking.
(I wrote this blurb because the quests completely inspired me, however, I’m also falling asleep so don’t expect much, lmao. It’s not done.)
He’d left her.
He’d actually left here there, like a jackass.
The timing was horrid. Absolutely hellbent on destroying everything before that vital moment when he’d have to leave again. His mind was torn between an actual connection, lust, desperation, and a call to duty he’d never felt himself pulled to before.
Nyx hissed through his teeth as the frigid air of Ishgard lashed against the stubble on his face. He tugged the thick, lined coat that concealed the inkings on his neck from the world further up until his face was obscured enough to begin this trek home. It was well past the twelfth bell and nay a single life could be seen on the streets.
She’d been wanted by a thug, a man who couldn’t be scorned by a woman, and he’d mentally left himself back in her room, that instinctual need to protect springing into action. But instead, his body had moved of its own accord. His heart had a mission that his mind disagreed with.
Rook had already placed his preparations at an undisclosed location and he found the pack with ease despite the snow having drowned it from prying eyes. It smelled like the bar. Like Rook. It comforted him to some degree even though he would never admit to it.
The Seeker hoisted the thing into his back and reached into a coat pocket for a pair of leather gloves fitted with fur from some fiber bearing creature, and began pulling them tightly over each finger. He’d only snapped out of the early process of travel when something fell to the ground. The red spade shone brightly atop the corporeal bitterness that lined the street and he reached for the card that hosted it. The ace of spades. She’d tucked it into his coat as he left and even now he wondered why she’d been content to lose a card from her deck. What did it mean to her? The explanation had been lost in his haste to get moving.
Some stirring in the chain of rumor had hinted that all who were willing to offer a hand in Garlemald were to convene at a specified place and time, but he’d missed it by several suns. His only choice was to pay for a private service to drop him in the wilderness outside of the main city. Regio Urbanissima. He’d manage to find someone, but only by the skin of his teeth. He’d not be arriving with the others, but he’d still manage to get to Garlemald no matter the cost.
—————Several suns later————-
His feet landed on solid ground after far too much time in the skies. Nyx wasn’t quite fond of leaving it for extended ranges towards the heavens, but he’d endured. Much to the disapproval of his stomach and his head.
They’d named the Camp “Broken Glass” and as he treaded ground, his coat pulled as close to his body as possible, he realized why the name had stuck.
The sun had already begun to disappear beyond the mountains when he’d arrived and to his surprise, someone amongst the machinists had prepared a cot for him in one of the annex buildings just south of the aetheryte. What little fire they could conjure up managed to keep the cold at bay enough that everyone inside would be able to sleep with some degree of comfort.
Golden eyes analyzed every soul within his temporary housing and he eventually laid back on the cot, one that might have been a touch too short for him. After all, telling organizations that he was a Miqo’te often led to… misunderstandings about height. Nyx had been about to roll over when the voices of two Garlean refugees made his ears raise the slightest bit. He’d almost failed to notice their allegiance until he noted a very familiar insignia across the shoulder of a jacket.
His jaw set and he went deathly still, finally rolling over just so that they wouldn’t know he was eavesdropping.
“Do you really believe they’re here to save us? Have you lost all sense? We’re going to be delivered soon and then we can fight back… These savages won’t pull masks over all of our eyes… You’re too soft.”
“You’ve lost all reason, all sense. We can’t do this on our own. It’s certain death if you run from them and deny their aid… Do you want to end up like your family? Stubborn… and very dead.”
Nyx’s eyes widened as the conversation continued on, but more to his horror was the realization that he’d been misled to attend a Garlean recovery process. He sucked in a breath and his fingers dug into the cotton of the cot. Tonight, Grace would remain at his side, her body polished and her chambers filled.
A hushed breath spoke into the fabric and a huskiness settled in his chest, one that came out in a whisper, “Garleans… they’re helpin’ tha Garleans… Wha’ fresh hells is this?”.
Time slows down when it can get no worse
I can feel it running out on me
I don't want these to be my last words
All forgotten 'cause that's all they'll be
Now there's only one thing I can do
Fight until the end like I promised to
Wishing there was something left to lose
This could be the day I die for you
(More writing to sustain me xP. Can’t be held responsible for typos. In the car sooooo…)
The seasons had already begun to fly by, even in a land that made them nearly impossible to detect. Despite parts of Garlemald being desolate and seemingly forever frozen, Nyx had witnessed a few telltale changes that tipped him off.
And even with all of this, not much changed about him either. His thirty sixth season came and went, not a soul to celebrate or remember it. It served no purpose anyways and he didn’t resent the silence.
A’lluca periodically came to his quarters for a briefing on whatever it was that was going on outside and Nyx silently cursed his injuries healing at a snail’s pace. The healing magic that had been applied to them had been under duress, making them rushed and in need of finessing later on. Several surgeries later and the Seeker was still awaiting a clearance.
His fellow Seeker continued trying to patch up a torn past with him and each time he felt like her attempts would eventually work, but it typically had the opposite effect. Instead, he felt further from her and the others stationed in the militaristic country. The desire to set out alone was eating at the recesses of his mind every day until he found their presence almost grating.
——————-
Today’s briefing at least brought good news with it. A recently thought lost squadron was found holding out in an abandoned outpost and brought back to the makeshift headquarters that Nyx was in. He’d also been updated on his status, which was upgraded to “stable and able”. His nose scrunched as A’lluca said it with far too much pep for his liking. Even as she removed the bandages around his middle, he groaned at her when she leaned in to kiss his cheek, “Oh c’mon, not even a smile? You’re really starting to worry me, A’ri….”.
Her words fell short as he reached up and pinched her lips together. Both of her eyebrows lifted in surprise and she placed both of her hands upon his to move his giant one, “Hey!”.
He smirked crookedly at her before he dropped his arm into his lap and both eyes shifted to look at the window in his room, “Nyx… It’s Nyx”.
The redhead pouted and threw her hands up dramatically, brows now furrowed, “Where did you even get that nickname? It seems like it came from a bad place”.
Nyx’s smirk fell off of his lips and was replaced by a thin line, his jaw setting as he breathed in. Both ears had pinned against his head with his irritation, but the lilt came out anyways, “Find my cigarettes an’ I may tell ye…”.
A’lluca’s eyes lit up and she clapped both of her hands together before she got to her dainty feet. The bushy appendage behind her might as well have belonged to a dog, wagging with simple happiness, “Progress! I like it! I’ll be right back, stay there!”.
And as she jumped from her chair, disappearing into the hallway, the door clicked loudly behind her. A shout could be heard from the other side followed by an answering laugh, deep and amused.
The Seeker peered over his shoulder at the person who managed to capture his attention with a rather direct, specific question… although not quite unexpected since he stood in Ul’dah’s market row holding a hefty firearm that he’d been ogling as he’d passed by. His tail flicked behind him with curiosity as he took them in, his attention going back to the vendor that watched him with a nervous smile.
The cigarette between his lips shifted to the opposite corner of his mouth and he cleared his throat before he spoke with the thick lilt he was known quite well for.
“Hmm…”, the somewhat primitive looking matchlock was placed back down upon a velvet cover that stretched the length of the stall he stood in front of.
“They’re nae hard t’use, bu’ they’re a bastard an’ a half t’master. Any arse can shoot one, bu’ hittin’ somethin’ with one is tha rub. Yer a dead feck if ye miss.”
Suddenly, the air sucked from his lungs and he felt like he was downing. The room was spinning, as much as he knew it wasn’t. Each attempt to inhale caught in his throat and he wondered if he’d somehow fallen into a river and the last several bells were a hallucination his mind had concocted in his final moments.
A hand rested on his shoulder and suddenly his soul returned to his body with a rather dramatic jerk of his body. Nyx’s eyes darted to the side and he watched her form his peripheral.
She was an incredibly attractive Seeker of the Sun. With hair a shade brighter than a summer sunset, fiery and red, and eyes that glimmered like emeralds, she was every bit the image of a wild coeurl. The woman’s smile was infectious and her frame was perfect in every way… except when eyes met her tail. It was shorter than usual and had obviously seen trauma with its bobbed appearance. It didn’t stop her though, instead jerking side to side with mischief as she spoke. A’lluca’s voice was melodic and musical, and it commanded attention without force.
“I know it’s a lot, but for what it’s worth, we’re all still here fighting. Most of us, anyways.”
Nyx’s eyes continued following her as she stood and splayed her hands out in front of her, stretching herself as she finally looked to his face, “Ye say most… m’guessin’ I knoo who tha straggler is…”. A’lluca’s ears pinned back and an expression of remorse spread across her features.
“If your guess was your father, than yes…”, she hesitated and green eyes rested on him, “When your mother passed away, he began coming here on expeditions trying to find some way to dismantle the Garleans from the inside, but as many do, he found himself drawn to them. While we see them for what they are, some find them rather charismatic and are unable to work against them.”
Nyx’s body stiffened and he sighed slowly through gritted teeth. Both fists curled in on the blanket that covered his lower half and sharpened nails nearly tore through the fabric.
“Weapons specialist, m’guessin’?”
A’lluca nodded and refused to make eye contact with him. The bob of a tail behind her twitched erratically as she sifted through the words in her head, “Magitek specialist. It would seem that he has a bit of an issue that should sound strikingly familiar to you”. She canted her head with an awkward smile and a finger raised to point at the ridiculous amounts of tattoos that covered her fellow Seeker’s body.
A shiver made its way down his spine and a feeling of something catching in his throat made him uncomfortable enough that he tried to rise from his bed. The splitting pain of wounds healed far too quickly resonated his entire being and he fell back against his pillow again. A sheen of sweat covered his face and he growled at the back of his throat.
“A’rihan, you should probably rest. One of our medics had to patch you up quicker than expected so you’re going to be in a lot of pain for a few suns.”
“Nyx.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Nyx. Cut that A’rihan shite. Dunnae appreciate tha name.”
A’lluca’s face almost seemed sad at his sudden demand and she reached outwards to touch the man’s shoulder. The blonde caught her hand, almost pulling his own back just as quickly, and decided to press it back towards her. Her touch made him want to curl up on himself and the sensation was foreign to him. It was the first time he realized he didn’t want anyone getting close to him. She let forth a soft gasp whenever he moved her away from him and her brows knit together when she noticed he wouldn’t look at her, “I’m sorry we all failed you earlier in life. We want to make it up to you but you’re going to have to let us in to do that”.
“I dunnae deal in emotions, lass… M’nae ‘ere to settle on past deeds either…”, he kept his face turned away from her and instead watched small winter birds flit by the window behind his makeshift bed.
(Here’s a continuation of the blurb I wrote a few weeks ago. Trying to get everything set up for Endwalker. We’ll get there someday!)
What is Nyx's favorite comfort food when things have gone south?
Nyx is a simple guy with simple tastes.
If he’s stressed, he’ll easily turn to something like eft steak, Antelope steak, marmot steak… did I mention that he likes steak? A side of mashed popotoes or some sautéed carrots will have that mood turned around pretty quick.
The thudding rang out through the container over… and over… Nyx’s ears went numb after a few moments and he hissed under his breath with ragged, short gasps as another creature rammed into his temporary shelter.
One hand steadied him against the inside as old crates and mechanical pieces threatened to batter him into oblivion. The Seeker felt his legs almost give as wood collided with the back of his shins. Another hiss of pain escaped his lips as he faltered, falling to a knee and throwing his ears back as he desperately sought an end to the jarring.
And then it stopped. Everything became still and quiet. He secretly wondered if Damask had fallen victim to the massive worms that had surrounded him, but no sounds ever came to him. Perhaps the snow had started up again, or with his luck, a larger ‘thing’ had feasted on them.
/Sputter…Splat/
He didn’t have time to feel. Everything came rushing to him far before the pain ever struck.
Amber eyes slowly crept upwards to where his right arm hung lifelessly against the metal walls of the crate behind him. A large, organic needle-like spear had sunk its way through his forearm…
Another. There was no reaction as it shot through the crate into his side. Again. Another joined that one through his left thigh, almost piercing through.
The pain came coursing in like an electric current through his body and his voice sounded foreign as he cried out in the darkness.
/Was that…me? Am I…dying?/
Precious life fluids sprang to life from his mouth as one last needle shot forth through a hole that now shone light through like a beam. Nyx could smell it, warm and metallic. Despite it, he felt suddenly exhausted. A nap sounded particularly nice.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, A’rihan.”
————————————-
He shot straight up and immediately regretted it. Pain unlike any he’d felt before radiated from his stomach throughout his entire being. The sheer shock of it made him double over, grasping at this stomach before vomiting to the side of his bed.
Bed?
“If you keep this up, you’re going to reopen your wounds…”, his eyes focused towards the source of the voice and amber eyes fixed on a small Seeker woman who toiled with a rapier in the corner of the room he found himself in. Her red fur gave her a bit of an edgy appearance but her equally piercing crimson eyes made him narrow his eyes as she dared him to combat her warning.
The room itself was simple enough. Dark, metal walls made up the entire thing and his very crude, filthy bed was one of two pieces of furniture. The other was the chair that the woman sat in next to a reinforced window. Beyond that, fires seemed to blaze in the distance, lighting the sky up like the world’s end was creeping up on them.
“A’lluca…”, Nyx’s voice sounded ragged but he acknowledged her. His gaze moved down to look at the bloody dressings that covered his entire torso and he imagined that the same could be said for the rest of him. Somehow he could even move the arm that had been skewered. Not broken… but sore as the Hells.
“I’m surprised you remember that name, much less me. I underestimated you, I see”, the Miqo’te twitched the end of her tail in anticipation before she smirked. Both of her hands had begun to polish the rapier across her lap and she now stared at him time to time like some long lost lover.
“How could ye forget? Still obsessed with me?”
“In your dreams. I’m only here because your father asked me to be. You’re lucky I showed up when I did or you’d be worm fodder. I found you while they were opening the sardine can.”
She straightened until her posture made him almost uncomfortable. The blonde visibly cringed before he joined her in the serious atmosphere, “Dunnae feel like m’on the same page, bu’ m’nae in tha mood t’argue”.
“Wow, a first… but that is neither here nor there. I have a job to complete before I’m allowed to show you where to go”, she seemed almost eager, chomping at the bit, to speak her piece. Nyx merely watched her before he sighed heavily. She took this as a sign of cooperation and her lips parted before she spoke.
“First of all, let it be known that if you cause any trouble, you’ll be eliminated. Your complete cooperation is a must right now. Secondly, if we find out that your allegiance is with your father, you’ll end up in the same boat. And lastly, let it be known that your little mystical surname is the only reason you’re here.”
A single, blonde brow lifted above a scarred eye and he inclined his head the slighted bit, “Please do tell…”.
A’lluca’s fangs appeared through her lips and a soft, almost triumphant sound riddled the air, “Ashkala is the clan name of the Garlean refugees, A’rihan. It’s protection… Your -mother-chose it, not your old man”.
A sound died on the air from his lips. It spat into existence before sniffing out into nothing. As A’lluca looked up from her rapier towards him, she noted the most curious look.
The large man had reached up and his fingers tangled in his own hair. Each one gripped at the sides of his hair tightly and he shuddered so that his broad shoulders quaked with him. He looked incapable of speech and his eyes hid behind loose, blonde locks.
“A’rihan, you lived in the Sagolii but… you weren’t born there. None of us were… I’m sorry.”
@Oh. you figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. it isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. it isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. it isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. that kind of intimacy... it means deep foundations. it means comfort. it means trust. maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. "oh" indeed.
>>Quiz thing<<
Tagged by: @bek-sc - Thank you so much for the tag!
I am tagging @adeat @thefreelanceangel @dardillien-ward @pirates-and-necromancers @phoebe-of-ivalice @guns-smoking @healerstail @daughteroflyrre @one-punch-talha
Tagged by @spellsandtales (Thank you!) Art by Fusspot.
The Kiss
You typically wait until the last second to believe the truth because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. You are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. The idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. Why let people get close enough to be rejected? You are enough for yourself and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick your hands against their shoulder. Until the kiss. That’s when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. “Oh”, you think. Despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. They won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation.
(With Endwalker looming ahead, I’ve been trying to write out some story for Nyx while I battle some pretty awful depression. Don’t expect greatness, but here’s some reading. I apologize for any typos since this was written on my phone.)
“Front Gate Breach… Did you fucking HEAR ME? Aleksander… answer your fucking pearl!”
“Aleksander…ALEKSANDER!”
“I ain’t feckin’ Aleksander… Bu’ ye ‘ave more problems than yer front gate bein’ breached…”
—————————————
**Fourteen suns earlier**
A large, three-toed foot caused dust to rise each time it plodded along a cracked and thirsty ground. Patterns rippled across its surface as if it tried its best to replicate the surface of the sun, the water scattering and snuffing out into the thick air before it could fully hide below.
The warking of a Chocobo, and a consequential cough as the dust choked it’s lungs, caused its rider to pull back the reins harshly before he joined it on the dried sands. A strong hand plucked the leather bits off the saddle and close to his waist as his boots added to the crunching around them.
A thick lilt was almost inaudible as a gust of wind enveloped them, “Jus’ think. Las’ time ye were here, ye wanted i’ t’be hotter”. The blonde Miqo’te elbowed the massive red bird next to him and it squawked in protest, head arching as it snapped close to his arm. “Believe me, dunnae plan t’be ‘ere longer’n we ‘ave t’be”.
The Seeker’s body was mostly covered by a scarf that clung around his neck, pulled up around his face so that the only things visible were the points of his ears and a determined amber visage. Bare shoulders rippled with ink work and tanned skin looked the slightest bit darker than usual. Thick work boots, laced tightly, treaded upon the dried lake beneath them without a hitch. A pair of hip-hugging leather pants were held aloft by a belt lined with more ammunition and tools than were likely necessary, but they were arranged enough that they weren’t burdensome.
The most noticeable detail about the man was the weapon that held closely to his back. It had a very obvious plethora of uses, but the form it held was that of a scythe, high above his head and glistening in the sun. Its wicked curved held an almost antique charm to it, but parts of it paid homage to the gunblades and firearms known by only Garlemald itself.
The thought of a homecoming for Grace made Nyx smile, the crooked grin creeping into the dimples close to his fangs. He often wondered whose weapon he’d recovered all those seasons ago and the thought of someone wanting revenge for improving its design made his tail twitch in excitement.
He’d already been traveling for some time, searching for the most remote entry to the empire that brought dread the world over. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but he wasn’t expecting the extreme change in climate. The last time he’d been in the hellscape, it was covered in a ridiculous layer of ice and snow, frigid to the point that he thought he’d die in his sleep if he had to take shelter somewhere. Thankfully, the destrier of a bird that he often figured would abandon him at his worst came through in a surprising series of events.
The current mission was something new. Knowledge that his father was, indeed, alive was jarring enough on its own. Unfortunately, the old man was found to be working under the Garleans either against his will or perfectly free. He’d said something that kept Nyx on his toes and his head swimming. A history in Garlemald… Had he really been holed up there this whole time or was it some sort of misunderstanding?
The Destrier jerked to a halt suddenly and Nyx’s eyes snapped forward and out of his own mind. A massive shadow crept towards them over the invisible horizon. Where the heat rose and swam with its false hope of clear oceans, a massive structure flew through the air like a giant crypt… Blood red hues clung to a black material that looked too organic to be leaving the land, like a great vulture, sickly and lurching.
Both sets of eyes followed it for a moment before they realized the thing was headed their direction. Nyx felt his heartbeat in his ears as he flashed glances around them. No cover. Not even the smallest hint of foliage. His bird companion seemed to understand the predicament, and like clockwork, began to run in the opposite direction from the Seeker. A few expletives escaped his lips before he sprinted after it.
As the structure loomed directly overhead, both of them fell to the ground, Nyx’s hands covering his head and the destrier’s beak pressed into the dirt as if two ilms of sand hid his entire body. It was in that moment that they both realized the massive Flying Fortress had continued on as if it hadn’t seen them at all. It was on a mission, perhaps seeing them or not.
The Miqo’te rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked over to his companion. The bird shook its head and fluffed up twice its size before it shook violently, dust shooting in all directions. If he hadn’t just experienced the massive craft, Nyx might have chuckled at the animal. Instead, he reached out and took the reins of the oddly compliant companion, tugging him forward and onward towards their original destination.
-——————
Suns passed by them like the slow, steady creep of death was behind them every step of the way. No signs of civilization showed itself and a few times Nyx questioned his ability to track his way. Even the usual stubbornness of his Chocobo had ceased and it simply went along with whatever the Seeker had him do, hoping that he’d find mercy on them both and head back towards Ishgard.
The horizon started to disappear for what was likely seven suns into their journey. Oranges and reds were swallowed up by deep purples and the smallest hint of real hid at the base of what looked like distant mountain ranges. The first signs of terrain change.
As before, the pair simply stopped where there were after Nyx made a few marks in the dried earth with a boot so they wouldn’t be disoriented come morning. A few rods and a tarp made for an easy shelter, but an odd wind had started to blow in once the sun had disappeared behind the range in the distance. The last gasps of orange cast an eerie glow on everything that could be seen, which wasn’t much.
Nyx had just laid out beneath the lean-to when he shot straight up. Chittering? Or howling… The wind that pushed dust along with it muffled a noise several malms away, but he knew he wasn’t hearing things as the great bird near to him raised its head and turned to face the same direction he’d looked.
/Skkkkkkeeeeee…. Aaaa…./
“Seven Hells… Damask… on yer feet… looks like we’re gonnae ‘ave company…”, the Chocobo clacked its beak as it stood, a foot pawing the ground as if readying itself. Nyx slid forward and out of his temporary bedding, a hand sliding out to grasp at the great scythe that hid beneath a blanket. As his fingers gripped the length of steel that made up the vast majority of the weapon, the tattoos along his arms glowed with a bright blue, the ornate details rippling down his flesh until each one had joined the first.
The Seeker took on a wide stance and his ears flattened at a new sound. His hearing was much more valuable than sight since the sun had disappeared entirely. All he could see were the crimson feathers of the beast beside him…. Which didn’t make the click, click, clicking sound surrounding them any less formidable.
He heard it every now and the. With the rushing of the wind, but it mostly drowned it out. One sounded behind him… then a few fulms away. A flash of silver and gold shone briefly in the light from his body, and then disappeared in the dust. He turned just in time for a flash of teeth and barely managed to side step it, although he found himself grazed by an unsightly appendage.
Again. A flash of teeth and another round of flailing claws breezed past him. This time Damask caught it with a kick of strong legs and the blood curdling scream they’d heard in the distance became disturbingly close for comfort.
“Aye, we’ve gotta get oot o’here… they’re underground. Damask, let’s go!”, he reached out just as another massive jaw lurched from the sands in front of him, sending the Chocobo hurtling to the side with a sickening thud. Thankfully he’d only been knock led away as far the Seeker could tell, but he was down for the count. It was time to draw them away or the bird would be a meal for what was likely four or five very hungry sand worms.
Nyx turned on a heel and ran in whatever direction fate would have him. A blur of blue was all he could see with inhuman screams sounding behind him. They reacted to sounds, to vibrations. Each step elicited a noise from them and it was obvious he’d become the hunt. The weapon in his hand dragged the ground as the Miqo’te continued forward. Added noise ensured they would follow but one misstep would be his last. Every now and then he knew he heard them breach the surface and then dive back underground.
Stopping would be suicide, and though his legs felt like they were on fire, he continued. The chase seemed endless and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer unless Lady Luck was on his side. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he’d definitely be disappointed if his story ended before he’d gotten answers.
Just as his mind had convinced him he’d need to come to terms with being eaten by massive worms in the deserts of Garlemald, he found himself tripping and connecting rather harshly with something metal. It echoed with the collision which also made his ears ring. “Fuck’s sake!”.
When he managed to open his eyes, realization struck hard and heavy. It was the supply crate that he’d hid in many many moons ago when he’d had to breach a laboratory. The writing on its side had a bunch of gibberish about medical things he’d rather not spend time on. With no hesitation, he rushed to the front of it and flipped up a metal door that rose with a little force. When he managed to get inside, he slammed it shut just in time to hear something outside colliding with it in a similar fashion to his discovery.
They had intentionally crashed themselves against, one after the other. The crate shook violently each time but somehow managed to hold its own. He was safe, for now.
