Stomp Stomp Stomp Stomp
"Crap. That's a lot of footsteps… What to do, what to do…" Dominik looked at the dead body and back to the observation room.
Stomp Stomp Stomp Stomp
The iron-shod rhythm of boots pounding against stone echoed down the corridor, a sound that made his blood run cold.
"Nope. That sounds like too many for me to deal with." He stood up without hesitation, leaving the dead body behind, and made a beeline back to the observation room.
After making it through, he slammed the heavy wooden door shut and locked the click, but he knew it wouldn't hold. Not against dozens of high alert and soon-to-be-angry cultists.
He spun around, darting his eyes across the room. It was a space designed for observation, not defense. There were no wardrobes to duck into, no heavy curtains to slip behind. The room was sparse, filled only with brass consoles and cushioned couches.
