The large blast door had proven to be the safety they were after, and how amazing it was as they collapsed behind the metal guardian, hearts in their mouths. Their fairytale wouldn't have been complete without strife still, and they were staring it down.

The long hall stood before them, almost the dead of a moonless night. There were rays of hope though, struggling through the pathetic gap the door made before it lost the will to move.

Though even that hope was disconcerting, as it itself was a survivor of the clouded and rainy skies outside, the monster's outside.

So, with the storm to their backs and the unknown to their faces, they had a choice to make, and they wouldn't have long to make it.

A flash of salt filled water reminded them of why they had ran, and it reminded them to be quick. The next step was closing the door, but that would mean leaving August to the mercy of world, not that he needed mercy.

Still, they'd peer through the gap, even as the water gushed in, even as the insanity gushed in, they had to see it, had to know if it was the right decision.

They'd see him, their savior, and they'd hear him too, one explosion after another, from the echoing of tank shells, to jets soaring overhead, to the cannons of destroyer class ships.

And so, they had seen it before, and now they knew he was the real deal, but where did he get such technology, such power.

It was far beyond what they had expected him to be, even after what they had seen of him before. The forms he took, the way he looked, the energy they only read about in books, all foreign.

It left them at a loss for words, and before they knew it, their hearts had begun to race once more, and so, they decided to lock out all the monsters, before it was too late.

The door would begin to pull shut, the hinges unable to open it, but close it still, concerning. As the metal thing began to exclude the outside, they'd see them, from the cusp of the bump that was the road at the shore.

The three refugees that were washed away, they were back, tattered, bruised and even scarred, but they were back. They ran for the door, under the uneasy calm of the skies and the ocean, but they wouldn't make it.

The metal giant was all but dead, and it wasn't going to be moving after that act, that was it, its final stand.

Thus, they had to watch them run for they'd never reach, and even worse, from below, the ocean, more monsters.

They lunged over the tens of feet embankment, landing and collapsing the pavement under their weight. They had similar skin to the monster that had forced the groups retreat, spongy, gray, but with the addition of writhing slimy veins.

Their bodies that of a misguided apes twisted and slender, jagged like rocks from the sea bed. Their hands three pronged knuckled spears, and their feet of hooves. As for their faces, a feature less mass presented itself, sinks and ridges being all that it had to offer, a seam in the center, pulsating.

They wouldn't get to see the creatures in action still, even as they dashed towards the refugees, leaping many feet at a time like escaping gazelles.

The door would seal them inside, and for a moment, they forgot the dark that consumed them, as they looked at the dead metal giant, hoping for it to move again.

The copper cube Bob had would attempt to light up, reminding them why they were there. They'd lift themselves from the crouching positions they had assumed to look out into the unforgiving world, and thus, out of the harsh water that washed over the uncertain grounds they stood on.

They had to go forward still, even if they had become cowards of no choice of their own, they had to own the decision.

They'd feel the rumble and shake of the kaiju outside, but they heard no banging on the door, no screams, not even the bout of the monsters, and that was their reality, they had won.

They were the survivors, the three that escaped, and perhaps if they had waited three seconds more, it would have been six, seven being a willing sacrifice to the world.

They would continue their stride waning through the water as it was, and all the while with nothing being said.

It was done, and they had to make the most of it. So, walking through those safe halls, solid, impenetrable, even if shaking, they kept going down, following the stairs to safety.

They kept going, and they kept getting safer, passing more doors, stories tall, capable of holding back any threat, barely slipping through the gaps they made trying to open. It was comforting, as if they barely made it through, nothing else could.

There wasn't even anywhere to hide, all the checkpoints, and small buildings along the way demolished and neatly sorted to the walls. As for the quakes, they were but a distant memory.

They would finally arrive at a point even comparable to that of people's living quarters. Though, even then, their echoing footsteps and labored breathes was all the sound they had to remind them of people.

It was a dangerous place after all, only having people present to improve what already was, digital and mechanical, otherwise, the nanobots took all manner of shapes and sizes to keep the place running.

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The situation was obvious too, as the things were spread out across the floor like dust, useless, dead. It would even stir up recent memories, it looked much like sand after all.

And so, they'd anchor their heads straight, ensuring not to even catch a glimpse. It was not like they could see much anyway, only the feeling on their feet remained, and it never left.

A distraction would at last be found as they wandered the halls, a singular cube lighting their way, and to safety no better than what they had escaped.

Bob knew the place, and quite well at that, and so, guiding them to a storage closet, it was strange seeing all the doors and rooms blocked off along the way, sealed to nonexistence, the only other passage left being an elevator going even further down.

It had to have had a reason, so he thought to himself with fuzzy memory. It was a short walk, considering they had all the time in the world, but, perhaps it should have been longer, to prepare them.

They had gone for 'clothes', those fashioned out of materials strong enough to survive the anomalies energy, but they had found even more uncertainty in the midst of their confusion, perhaps it was a sign, to turn back.

I, if I had walked through the place—not as they saw it shrouded in darkness, but in its entirety—I'd be inclined to articulate it as such.

The door that they happened up on, the one that was supposed to be for a closet, was the younger sibling of the one at the entrance of the place.

It was dead though, ripped open from the inside, multiple meters of metal bent like crumpled paper. It wasn't the door alone either. Standing at the gates of that hell, looking left, the hall, the one that lead to the elevator had another feature, the debris.

The walls had been blown open as if something had torn through them, and it was from the inside. Thus, there was no surprise when the insides were no better.

If one was to brave a step further into that place, the floor would refuse them that curtesy, for it was no longer there. A trench, painting the complete picture of the devastation.

It was as if something had bore its way out of one of the many enclosures and tore its way through everything in its path. The walls, floor ceiling, everything.

Indulging in that everything, were the walls, not the ones of the structure, the ones of the island itself, the foundations of the place. The thing dug through the nigh iron pillars like dirt, leaving a hole up into the place.

As for what that place had on its inside, apart from an immediate exit sign, well, that was quite interesting.

It was no longer a storage closet, and I suppose it never was.

Thus, all the other oddities the place presented made immediate sense. The shelves, boxes and racks that one would expect were nonexistent, instead, there were vats and vertical tables, chains and cells all surrounded by reinforced concrete structures.

That much was fine, a stomach wouldn't mind it, but there was more.

In the fluid filled vats were hands and feet, in each no more than three pairs, organs, in each, enough for three people, but there were no people.

The tables still had remnants of 'people', most only in pieces, their top halves hung by each hand, no head, no organs, on the inside. They were sprawled out on the floor for all to see, laid out like decorations, or maintenance pipes, yes, that made more sense, the scattered feet laying on them, anchors.

The remaining cells were not without fault either, piles of bones and only pieces of what would have been assumed to be people.

If I was to walk further in, I'd stumble upon a large coil of silver metal, a story or two, as wide as noble fir, melted. The smell of burnt earth still fresh in the room, surprisingly, the smell of rotting flesh, not so much. In fact, the metal was still melting, the occasional pulse of energy vibrating it, allowing it to deteriorate even further.

Then there was what ran past the metal behemoth and into the bare rocky walls, holes, they must have been man made. As that deep down, the earth that was placed was as hard as iron, so the claw marks and scratches on the walls, along with the piles of inconveniently placed rubble had to have an explanation.

It had to make sense somehow, even the entrails than ran like pipes into the further recesses of the rocks had to have had a reason.

So, I did see all that, but did they, could they, in such dark, see all that. They saw some of it. They'd stumble through the destruction, fixate on the stomach turning sight of the remains, forcing them to hold their sustenance down once more, and look away.

Yet, they still continued, looking for the clothes they sought, but they were nowhere to be seen.

It was all a matter of perspective though, as Bob with his reliable PC could easily ping the transponders in the lead reinforced suits, and he did.

As for where they were, those holes that were to the back of the place, that's where the signal came from.

It would all be fine though, as from within one of those interesting holes, one of the many people the place seemed to have been missing emerged, and he was wearing one of the suits.

It feigned a resemblance to a dark aged astronaut's, the head a thick glass bubble too foggy to see through, though it should have been clear.

The body, a de-saturated black, almost baggy overall, it looked full really, it should have been tight fitting, but not bulging.

Yet, it was still solid, bolts and screws holding its plates together in seams around the figure, but barely.

Then, there was the powerhouse of the thing, its exoskeleton made of carbon fibers and steel alloys keeping it standing, and moving under all that extra weight.

It was the second best protection they could have had in that moment, they just had to get some for themselves.

As for what the figure was doing in the hole, and as for why all the other suits were in the hole, well, Bob's sensors didn't tell him that much. In fact, they barely told him anything but what he needed to know, that the things were to the back of the room.

"Ah… H-hello there… you... Jack, it's you in there… right…? At least, t-that's what my sensors say… w-what's going on here… l-looks a lot different than w-when I was last here…? Haha…" He spoke with a desperation for familiarity, a hope that he was right, his voice even fading and him ignoring it.

"Ah-…y-yeah…" Jack sighed with his words, his voice even having cracked at his first word.

"Oh t-thank the heavens… b-but you almost sounded like Susan for a moment there…? I-I'm just glad to see somebody…" The small man had practically fallen asleep standing, thinking he was safe.

"So why are you down here…?" Jack had a valid question.

"W-we… the outside isn't s-safe anymore… and I—" He cleared his throat. "Before that… w-what happened here… what's a-all this…?" An even better question, from the genius.

The man standing nine feet tall with the help of his suit seemed to freeze, and even if the suit made it seem that way, he was still, and neither did he respond.

They stood their looking at him, the light bouncing off his helmet making them avert their gaze, and he said nothing. Ten seconds past, and he said nothing, thirty, nothing, a minute, nothing, two was the limit.

"Uhhh… Bob… is you're friend ok…?" Cali was starting to feel a familiar but unremembered feeling of discomfort in her gut, and she didn't like it, especially with May getting heavier by the second.

"Tsk... I'm fine… it's just that… I… It's just that… I…" It would hold its glass enclosure. "It's just that… I… it was a lot you know…?" He'd break his still frame.

Then, he began his approach, and Cali backed away.