thought of exit through the main doors.
"Jesus Christ!" Mark exclaimed. "What now?"
He directed the frantic query at Black, staring at the Subversion head honcho over the top of Miranda's tousled blonde hair, her face still pressed against him.
Dax wasn't paying any attention to Mark, he was staring in disbelief at the closed doors behind which the horror undoubtedly continued. Beyond which lay the separated head and body of his eviscerated friend.
"What the hell? You're shutting everybody in? There are still people alive in there! Our friends are trapped in there! You can't do that!"
"Pretty sure we just did," Tempest said solemnly, while Black merely stared down the hallway where the throng of security formed an impassable wall. "Anybody alive isn't going to remain that way for long. You saw what happened to your buddy when he wasted one tiny second. It's going to be a whole lot messier in there now. Anybody fancies the idea of going back inside on a fool’s mission to find people who are already gonna be ripped to shreds can go right ahead, but not through these doors. They stay closed."
"You can't be serious!" Face streaked by runny mascara from tears still coursing over her cheeks, Miranda raised her head from Mark's shoulder, trying to pin Tempest in her gaze. The broad-shouldered black-haired Tempest might not have been as towering and physically imposing as Black, but his dark slate eyes and sharp hatchet face adorned with a myriad of steel piercings was just as intimidating at this precise moment.
"You can't leave people to die!" Miranda wailed. "You just can't do that!"
"These doors do not open again," Tempest reaffirmed with a dangerous edge grating in his voice. "They stay shut until we get to the truck and back."
"Back?" Dax echoed. "You plan on coming back? What the fuck for?"
"That room has to be contained," Black said curtly.
"Contained?" Again, Dax sounded like an idiot mimic with the inability to do anything but repeat what was said.
"Yeah."
There was another table just outside the double doors, further up the wall, this one laden with gig fliers, posters, and other paraphernalia related to this event and others. The taciturn Blizzard moved swiftly to this piece of furniture and upended it without a thought for spilling the contents all over the carpet; gig advertisements with bloody images on them that looked gorier than photographs of an autopsy fluttered everywhere.
With the table turned on its side, Blizzard stamped on one of the uppermost legs with a savage downward force and it snapped right off with a splintery crack. He snatched it up and thrust it through the handles of the double doors, creating a crude, but temporarily effective means of keeping those doors shut.
"There are people in there!" Miranda wailed, still trying to ram that point home to people it seemed lost on.
"Not for long," Tempest persisted. "How many times do I need to say the same thing? I'm very sorry, but your friends are either dead, as good as dead, or liable to be turned into something you really don't want to contend with."
"Will...will they help us?" Julietta said, gesturing towards the cluster of security way down the hallway, none of whom had yet made any advancements towards them. The hopeless edge to her query suggested she already knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
"No." Black said. "They're here to ensure nobody like us gets out."
"What? What?" Dax asked. "What do you mean? You sure as hell seem to know a lot about what the fuck is going on. So what the fuck is going on here?"
One of the four black-haired women
"Jesus Christ!" Mark exclaimed. "What now?"
He directed the frantic query at Black, staring at the Subversion head honcho over the top of Miranda's tousled blonde hair, her face still pressed against him.
Dax wasn't paying any attention to Mark, he was staring in disbelief at the closed doors behind which the horror undoubtedly continued. Beyond which lay the separated head and body of his eviscerated friend.
"What the hell? You're shutting everybody in? There are still people alive in there! Our friends are trapped in there! You can't do that!"
"Pretty sure we just did," Tempest said solemnly, while Black merely stared down the hallway where the throng of security formed an impassable wall. "Anybody alive isn't going to remain that way for long. You saw what happened to your buddy when he wasted one tiny second. It's going to be a whole lot messier in there now. Anybody fancies the idea of going back inside on a fool’s mission to find people who are already gonna be ripped to shreds can go right ahead, but not through these doors. They stay closed."
"You can't be serious!" Face streaked by runny mascara from tears still coursing over her cheeks, Miranda raised her head from Mark's shoulder, trying to pin Tempest in her gaze. The broad-shouldered black-haired Tempest might not have been as towering and physically imposing as Black, but his dark slate eyes and sharp hatchet face adorned with a myriad of steel piercings was just as intimidating at this precise moment.
"You can't leave people to die!" Miranda wailed. "You just can't do that!"
"These doors do not open again," Tempest reaffirmed with a dangerous edge grating in his voice. "They stay shut until we get to the truck and back."
"Back?" Dax echoed. "You plan on coming back? What the fuck for?"
"That room has to be contained," Black said curtly.
"Contained?" Again, Dax sounded like an idiot mimic with the inability to do anything but repeat what was said.
"Yeah."
There was another table just outside the double doors, further up the wall, this one laden with gig fliers, posters, and other paraphernalia related to this event and others. The taciturn Blizzard moved swiftly to this piece of furniture and upended it without a thought for spilling the contents all over the carpet; gig advertisements with bloody images on them that looked gorier than photographs of an autopsy fluttered everywhere.
With the table turned on its side, Blizzard stamped on one of the uppermost legs with a savage downward force and it snapped right off with a splintery crack. He snatched it up and thrust it through the handles of the double doors, creating a crude, but temporarily effective means of keeping those doors shut.
"There are people in there!" Miranda wailed, still trying to ram that point home to people it seemed lost on.
"Not for long," Tempest persisted. "How many times do I need to say the same thing? I'm very sorry, but your friends are either dead, as good as dead, or liable to be turned into something you really don't want to contend with."
"Will...will they help us?" Julietta said, gesturing towards the cluster of security way down the hallway, none of whom had yet made any advancements towards them. The hopeless edge to her query suggested she already knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
"No." Black said. "They're here to ensure nobody like us gets out."
"What? What?" Dax asked. "What do you mean? You sure as hell seem to know a lot about what the fuck is going on. So what the fuck is going on here?"
One of the four black-haired women
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