There’s nowhere to go. They’re trapped with the cluster of houses just behind themselves that build an enclosed, tight half-ring. The only path available is one too thin for him to go through, notes Tango, very aware of his giant, clunky body.

“You need to hold on,” he says.

Pen looks at the bauble with venom in her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to d-!”

“- I SAID HOLD ON!” barks Tango at Pen, who flinches together immediately and places her hands onto the console in-front of herself, bracing herself next to the two sticks still jutting out. She grits her teeth and feels the damp continue to grow in her eyes, as she realizes that she listened to him again without thinking. A loud, whining sound is audible all around them as something seems to be building up in a high-pitched intensity, which stings deeply in her head as it screeches, as it howls.

She wants to cover her ears, but her hands don’t leave the console for fear of being reprimanded again. That JE-

(Warning: Unsecured Operator !) Engage Rear Thrusters? (Warning: Low Fuel)

Y/N

They launch forward like a flash of lightning. Pen’s vision becomes a blur as the force of their sudden, jolting movement slams her back into the seat like before. It's as if a great hand were pressing against her body. Everything becomes a blur. The heavy, blanketing snow that crashes down from above, as if the skies were trying to bury them, the distant pine-wood trees that are swaying on the mountainsides on either side of the cliff, the howling mechanical quadrupeds connected to black tethers. Their eyes. Their red eyes. It all mixes together into a flurried jumble in that single instant, as her body shakes and her bones jostle and vibrate.

The wind howls, the wolves howl, the coils howl; everything coming together into a deathly, ghostly wail that slices through her sensitive hearing. Pen wonders for a moment, as the noise cuts her sensations deeply; is she screaming again? She can’t tell.

Everything goes black.

The world is shaking, thinks Pen, floating in the vague darkness. It’s like an earthquake. No. It’s like when she was in a box. Sometimes it shook, kind of like this. Her body presses itself further back, as she drifts into a mixed state of half-wakefulness and half-unconsciousness in that moment.

How long has it been? Since the lights went out? She’s scared. It’s dark. It’s dark…

Something brushes against her chest, shaking with her and offering an odd disturbance to the empty void of her lack of perceptions. The little ring shaking in her pocket.

Pen’s eyes open again, as now that single second has passed, just in time to see the red flashes of a dozen glassy gazes lunging at them only meters away. The red glass eyes of the boy that they themselves have now lunged straight towards are right before her vision. Tango’s fist is raised for a direct strike to the creature. They’re right in the center of the pack. The eyes. The red eyes. Pen feels them digging straight into them both. No. Straight into her. Her frail body janks to the side, her elbow striking painfully against the metal wall as Tango spins around, dodging in a pirouette as one of the mechanical, four-legged creatures flies past where they just stood a second ago. They spin past the boy on his left side, a foot apart at most. Tango had opted to dodge at the last moment, instead of striking. They’re gliding, moving like they did down in the ruins. Everything is shaking though. Pen feels sick. Nauseous.

Black cables flail around in the air as the pack runs after them, the wolf who missed its shot, lands on the ground, before turning to chase after them with no hesitation. Tango seems to land from his evasive movement and now slides backwards, still facing towards the pursuers, but not slowing his pace in the least. Pen slams forward now with a yelp towards the console, her hands just barely managing to catch herself as she is pressed down towards it face first. The forces now pushing her from the back, as if its fingers were in her hair, trying to press her head beneath water. Her rail-thin arms strain with everything she has to hold herself upright. The 'boy' doesn’t move as they gain a greater and greater distance to him, he simply turns his head to watch them fade away as the wolves run after them.

The cables, which vanish into the thickness of the snowstorm, slowly grow taut as he dissipates entirely from their vision, leaving only red eyes to shine in the distant mess that soon vanishes as well.

The bauble hisses and she feels herself being watched. Tango lurches back around in another spin, turning to face forward again, all in one sliding movement. Pen is once more thrown around like a child’s plaything, subject to forces too great for her to even consider fighting. She laughs as her head hits the padded seat behind herself, nonetheless making her feel a little dizzy from the direct shake of the impact. Why is she laughing? She isn’t sure.

Her eyes meet the small corner window that looks out behind them. She sees nothing. Did they lose them?

No.

She hears them. She hears the howl. They’re still coming.

Pen breathes, but it feels difficult to do. She looks at her hands, they’re wet. She only now realizes how hot it’s gotten in here. In her panic, she didn’t even notice that she was sweating this much. How could it be so hot in here?

A window pops up, grabbing her attention as they slide forward. But as she looks at it, it pops away a moment later.

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WARNING!

Reactor Status: CRITICAL !

Cabin mRem: 22 !

>>>Killing High-altitude Oxygen Scrubbers

>>>Killing Rad-Flushing Systems

Pen wants to ask what it said, but she can’t open her mouth. Something feels weird.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Tango, as if reading her eyes as they glide forward. The world before her vision zooms along, trees and rocks flying past them as nothing more than vague blurs, each disturbance giving off an audible ‘foom’ to her sensitive ears as they pass them.

It’s hot.

Pen closes her eyes, feeling deeply nauseous. It’s hot. It’s hot. Her chest is heaving, why is it so hot? She feels sick. The air is becoming too hot to breathe, it feels like being inside of an oven. But somehow it also feels thin and… weak. Like every breath isn’t bringing her the satisfaction that it should. Her head is spinning, her entire sense proprioception leaves her, as her awareness of herself becomes vaguely floaty and distant.

It’s hot. She can’t breathe. Pen wants to tell him, but she can’t, her body isn’t responding right anymore. Something feels weird. Pen thinks she feels her lips move, but nothing comes out, except for a bit of gunk from her shaking stomach. She wants to throw up, but something isn’t right. The air doesn’t feel right.

- SUB-PROTOCOL OVERRIDE -

>>> Restoring Sub-Environmental Safety Systems

[FOXTROT] - CRITICAL MISSION ASSETS ENDANGERED

“Fox- what? No! No- no- no… damn it!” curses Tango.

The whining of the coils slowly becomes quieter as there is a new sound. Like a great hissing, like a gust of air being blown out and away all at once. Fresh, icy air touches her skin as there is a waft of some of the outside world coming in now.

Pen's eyes shoot open wide, her cheeks also growing just as wide, as she just barely manages to close her lips in time. Her hand clutches her face and the other grabs the hatch as she jumps up, twisting it open to lean outward, as she violently begins to vomit out into the snow below. Her body clenches and convulses on its own as she retches, as if someone were grabbing her by the gut and squeezing her tightly together, compressing her insides out of herself.

She heaves again, spewing an indiscriminate, tannish goo out as she feels the incredible heat wellowing out from behind herself to meet the frozen, mountain air. Tango's body hisses. Her hands gripp the rim of the hatch and feel the hot metal of the suit. How far have they gone? She looks up between each compression of her body, but doesn’t recognize anything around them.

“Hey,” calls out Tango from behind her. She looks back, vomit dribbling from the corner of her mouth. “Do you have electric lighting these days?”

“W- What?” she stumbles out, unsure what he means.

“Like down in the ruins, the lights, you know?” he asks, sounding somewhat tense.

“N-no?” asks Pen, unsure where he was going with this. "We only use fire. Nobody knows how to make first-people lights."

“Shit!” curses Tango and she flinches as he swears again. The bauble zooms, looking at her. “No, no… I’m not mad at you, sorry,” says the man. Pen spits out everything left in her mouth and then another time for good measure, before pulling back inside and closing the hatch. Though she still feels gravely nauseous, as she plants herself back down onto the seat and holds her eyes tightly closed. The world spins. “It was a trap.”

She isn’t sure what he means, but isn’t strong enough to open her mouth and just sits there instead.

“I should have known. If those houses were burning wood to keep warm, then the lights should have been flickering. FUCK-!” She jumps again, jostling as he yells once more and feeling somewhat scared of the man’s voice now, as if she were sitting on a powderkeg. It's dangerous when people start swearing. That's when they get the most violent. “- There wasn’t even any smoke coming from the chimneys. Damn it! They never used to do anything like this…”

Pen doesn’t say anything, feeling rather fearful of Tango's anger. But just pushes herself back into the seat, holding on as tight as she can as the world around her spins as if they were in free-fall. Her fingers turn white from pressing down into the arm-rests so tightly. She stays quiet. If she’s good, he won’t yell at her again. If she’s good they won’t hurt her. She has to be quiet. Her body is shaking.

It howls.

Pen’s ears perk up and her eyes shoot open. Was that the wind? Or are they still after them? She wants to tell him that she heard something. Her mouth opens to speak -

“- We need to keep moving,” says Tango before she can say anything. “Hold on.” His body leans back forward and the coils begin to whine in a build-up again. Pen’s heart beats faster, as she squeezes her eyes so tightly shut that she feels a strange rumbling in her ears.

Nothing happens.

The coils die down, the whine leaving again and growing quiet. Huh? Warily she opens her eyes.

- SUB-PROTOCOL OVERRIDE -

>>> Killing Automata Driver

[FOXTROT] - Please Engage OPFOR

“What? NO-N-“

There is a prolonged whining sound shifting from a high-pitched hum to a deep, low buzz before it fades away, taking the man’s voice with it.

It’s quiet. Pen still doesn’t say anything, not feeling brave enough.

A minute passes. It’s still quiet and she musters her courage.

“T- Tango?” calls out Pen. Nothing comes back to her except the sound of the raging snow storm outside. The lights are still on, the console and the cabling are still buzzing with life. They’re still standing. But Tango is gone again. All Pen sees is the blurry snow blowing past the screen. Her eyes look up to the little bauble above herself. No light shines through it of any color.

“Tango?”

The wind howls.

Pen’s heart begins to beat faster again. She’s alone again. What should she do? What should she do? Something catches her eye. Something red in the bottom corner of her vision.

Pen looks down at the window showing the space behind them. Showing her a dozen red eyes that stare at them from the distance. Vague silhouettes come into focus, as they slowly make their approach. What should she do? What should she do?

“TANGO?!”

Pen’s chest heaves as she looks around herself. She should run… She should run! Maybe they just wanted Tango? If she jumped out and ran now, maybe…

…Maybe…

Her breathing slows a little as she catches her own thoughts and she grits her teeth and lowers her head, her broken, bloodied fingernails digging into her palms. Her gaze locks itself forward towards the two sticks jutting out of the console. The controls. Something red flashes in the corner of her eyes just as she pushes her body forward as hard as she can, her hands smashing the sticks down as far they can go.

They explode into motion again and this time, Pen is sure that she's screaming as the world flies past them.