Quote Originally Posted by Duos View Post
As Moroe dives frantically for safety, the FENRIR production prototype slams into the ground where she had been scant seconds before, slamming into the ground with lethal force and cracking the concrete floor. It leers hungrily at her from the crater, tail whipping back and forth like a shark fin through dark waters with the shriek of tearing steel as the bony spines lash across the floor, and then it rears up and bellows at her, the sound utterly inhuman and appallingly loud, a long, whip-like tongue lolling out of the corner of its very dangerous looking maw.

As the roar echoes loudly throughout the cavernous, dark room, the thing suddenly leaps at Moroe, long claws like baseball bat-sized butcher knives outstretched to shred her into pieces the size of a postage stamp. Her hurried, desperate return fire spangs uselessly off of the armored bone plates that cover the creature's hide, and it's only her finely honed soldier's instincts that keep her from meeting a swift end in the creature's jaws as she slides underneath the thing. It misses her by mere centimeters, and as it lands claws send off a cascade of sparks as their grip sheds a series of ragged tears in the floor, whipping back around to face its prey with uncanny speed. It bounds off the floor once again, this time sliding to the side and spinning around to bring it's claws across in a gut-wrenching slash and to whip at her with a lethally sharp tail, the spines glinting dangerously in the bruise-colored light of the room. Again, Moroe is saved only by reflexes; the creature is preternaturally fast, and the deadly limb only scrapes her arm-but even a grazing blow is enough to send her flying, blood droplets from the scratch spraying through the air, black in the dim light.

The monster rumbles like a cross between a freight train and an oversized housecat, scenting the wound, and slows its assault, beady eyes locked on its prey as it slowly closes in. Somewhere inside it's head, it processed the sweet scent of blood and wondered how its first meal in a while would taste.
"What is this thing?!"

That was a question to which Moroe would dearly have liked an answer. Whatever this fanged monstrosity was, it made Kojima's creations look like plasticine models. She clambered to her feet after being thrown across the room, panting heavily. Though she'd barely started 'fighting', she could already feel her muscles starting to ache. It was taking everything her body had just to stay alive from moment to moment. If it hadn't been for her unusually compartmentalised mind, she would barely have been able to think.

"At a rough estimate, I have less than 30 seconds to live. Time to brainstorm..."

Could she reach the exit? No. If her movements became that predictable, she'd be caught. Could she hide? Not a chance. Fake her death? Not against something clearly looking for a fresh meal. Even as she eliminated these options, her rifle spat out another useless volley. There was something morbidly fascinating about watching a living(?) creature shrug off sustained gunfire as if it was nothing. Seriously, how could something this manoeuvrable be so completely unstoppab-

Wait. Wait wait wait. Just in time, Moroe sensed the trap in her own thoughts. How did she know that she couldn't defeat this creature, when she'd barely even tried? Up until now, she'd been firing more or less at random, while desperately dodging its attacks. Now, though, she saw the futility of such tactics. She couldn't run, hide or surrender, so staying on the defensive served no purpose but to delay her death for another few seconds. She'd seen this before, in others who'd succumbed to fear. They stopped thinking about how to win, and just became obsessed with surviving. They threw away their chances in the pursuit of 'safety', never realising that they were nailing their own coffins shut. Well, Ishimaru Moroe wasn't going to make the same mistake.

With new-found focus, she gazed at the creature which was slowly advancing on her. With it going at this speed, she no longer needed to devote all her energy to defence. For whatever reason, it had given her time to act. She decided to use this time to level her rifle at its horrific maw, wait for that mouth to open, and fire straight into it. Now she would find out if this thing's armour was as tough on the inside; And if it was, well, she'd just try something else. If she died here, it would be while fighting for every last chance she could get.