!!0ZviLFh59My 02/04/12(Sat)22:52 No.17809648|
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It was the Thing In The Couch; you recognize the spindly appendages immediately. It's funny, what goes through your head when you're half-unconscious from oxygen deprivation, but you think it's the perfect design for a machine - exoskeleton, check, sensor cluster, check, centrally-located processing unit with multi-terrain limbs, check. It clacks along with a kind of laborious but efficient gait, and all you can think of is how it must've been designed to fold up, to hide in things.
It bounds across the room. You vaguely register a Thompson roaring and bits of wood raining down upon you as the Spider bounds nearer. You know what it's going for.
You lurch to your feet before you know what's happening, knowing damn well you're too late, knowing damn well your remaining five pistol rounds aren't getting through that metallic hide, knowing you're fucked worse then a Thai hooker during a Friday port-of-liberty call, but you move. More shots, more chaos, you stumble and fall backwards over Minna just as the Spider stabs it's long, slender fore-limb through your body.
You grab it with your free hand, pulling yourself along it a little more, keeping it wedged in tight, and reach underneath the spider with your pistol, ramming it into the hollow you knew you'd find, where the legs fold up like a landing gear.
"THIS is what you need, you green fuckface," you hiss, and then there's gunfire, gunfire and nothing more.