[There is a certain sensation one gets - in a workshop, in war zones, in loading bays, that eerie creeping feeling down your back of what would happen if all of the machines came to life. A certain, almost alive silence, like one is being watched happens in those moments. The splash of their footsteps just a little loud, the cadence of their breathing echoes like it might give their position away to deadly machines that could - by no logical means activate again.
None of that logic really helped the electric feeling up one's spine, or the pressure between the shoulder blades. It's just before Miles' hand finally reaches the doorknob that the metal shrieks again, suddenly, howling some banshee like defiance...
One of the cutters teeters, buckles under the strain of rust, roots and the punishment just levered on it, and slams back towards the far wall.
WHAM!
Taking some part of the hull with it, it crashes backwards off into ... emptiness.
Fresh, cool air, damp to Miles' face, and the roar of rushing water issues forth from the new gap.]
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None of that logic really helped the electric feeling up one's spine, or the pressure between the shoulder blades. It's just before Miles' hand finally reaches the doorknob that the metal shrieks again, suddenly, howling some banshee like defiance...
One of the cutters teeters, buckles under the strain of rust, roots and the punishment just levered on it, and slams back towards the far wall.
WHAM!
Taking some part of the hull with it, it crashes backwards off into ... emptiness.
Fresh, cool air, damp to Miles' face, and the roar of rushing water issues forth from the new gap.]