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You were on your way to the kinematics testing grounds for another few laps of jumping through hoops to rack up points on a scoreboard you do not understand when they jumped you and your escort, a swarm of shining fangs and bright teeth and corrosive gas and sound that was wrong -- you crept in here, in one of the maintenance tunnels -- waiting for your body to knit itself back together. You've left a lot of blood behind but you're about ready to move again.
How long has it been? Is everyone else alive? You should . . . get your bearings.
You hear the fast sound of running feet, heavy footfalls, shouts, commands. You can recognize the stern stacato of the guards speech by rote now. There's a group of them passing by this door, right now. A large group.
You might want to avoid them, for now - they might not treat you kindly. Or you could open the door and go with them? Surrender? Slink back to your cell...
