The scientist of the QSS Osamandius collapses before you.

And even in the dim, eerie, violet light, you can see a strange purple-black icker running down his chin.

His strained words echo through the metal passageway you stand in.

The Osamandias is lost.

The scientist was only able to get a few words out,

only register a few thoughts

before he collapses in front of you.

His head smacks against

the rubberized metal flooring

of this corridor,

and you are all still bathed

in that emergency protocol

fuchsia light in every direction.

What happens next is up to you.

Holy shit! So there are B, the survivors. All right, no one make a move, Mr. Stabs.

This is a job for you?

Excuse me? Should anyone go near him?

He's a man and he's help. What's that coming out of his mouth?

All right, all right, all right. Everyone just calm down.

Give me a second. And I have my hand kind of on a holster of my heavy laser pistol.

Oh, yeah.

But I'm not drawing it. One of my hands is resting kind of. It's almost like instinctual.

...