by Hydrargentium

Pieces of the ceiling were falling around them, as the walls and support beams trembled and hummed across the factory floor. Fluorescent tubes shattered in their fixtures, raining white clouds of razor sharp glass throughout.

Call-out and Ranger looked at each other as a deafening crack ripped through the massive space, and the concrete floor split raggedly like the skin of an apple squeezed too hard. Ranger seemed nonplussed, although it was hard to tell behind his darkened goggles. Call-out’s face showed his usual twitchy franticness, only pumped up to eleven million. If Ranger had been the kind of guy who laughed in-mask (or at all, really), he might have even done a spit-take.

Instead, he leaned over and spoke directly into Call-out’s ear.

“Get us out of here.”

“But what about the hostages?!?!”

Ranger was glad for the active sound cancelling built into his headset’s earpieces, taking the edge off of Call-out’s shrill response.

“If you can take them with us, then do it. But otherwise, we’ll be good to no one if we’re in here when this place implodes.”