Inguene ventures deep into the liquor soaked, darkened corridor. Shreds of
hull plating lean in like hungry fingers.
"Still good!" reports the security officer.
-
He comes back, unharmed.
-
He reports he has found a strange, growling thing.
-
He slips on some booze and impales his groin on some metal debris.
-
"I CANNOT TAKE THE SUSPENSE!" you scream and fire fifteen rounds into Inguene's back.
-
You commit horrible suicide.
-
You commit nice, quiet, peaceful suicide.
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