INBOX (ARCHIVE)

[20mentholkools]

--- » 003 » 012
RICHARD B. RIDDICK

Comments

audio;

[c24]

[ An audio transmission suddenly starts in the middle of someone sputtering urgently. It's ratty at best, plagued by the ebb and flow of constant static that seems hellbent on cutting in at the worst times. ]

—ing this? This is —imm of Team N—bi. If anyone copies, the s—nged. It's— I don't even—It sh—n't be —ng possible.

[ It cuts out with a sharp crackle before easing back in, only to pick up a sudden clank of metal colliding with a hard surface and the decidedly obvious curse that goes along with it. ]

—ou doing? I said st—ck! You h— no clue w—t you st—

[ The static stopped for just a moment of tense silence before a quick gasp and a wet growl rebounded from somewhere. Whoever they are, their shoes scrape across the ground in some attempt to run as something whirring and snarling hits the transmission with an ear-piercing charge.

There's shouting but nothing intelligible until the ratcheting teeth of something steely come to life and blankets every other noise, tearing at something hard, but not indestructible. It splits and fissures, almost sounding like the split of gristle and bone, but it's hard to tell if it's the transmission or the static making those sounds. ]

Anyone —y?! You —ave to come help! We're— We—

[ The whirring ceases, but not the screams of something angry, or maybe it's just the slide of metal squealing against metal to overwhelm the audio and effectively end it. ]