On one side of the chamber, its floor filled with dense fog roughly to the knees, the blond John Pierce clutched the truncated stump of his right shoulder, well on his way to grinding his teeth into dust, groaning unrestrainedly in inexplicable agony.
Leaning close to that same side, the Infected Yeti stood hunched, its four partially-crystallised arms flailing in an attempt to catch a pesky flying fish, swimming through the air and using the needle on its forehead to pester the monster further.
Elsewhere, hidden to even perceptive eyes below the fog, a faceless enemy lurked.
Additionally, were two others.
Upon witnessing their leader sustain such a fatal wound, and moreover one that appeared to affect him in such an unusually dire manner, it was as if a switch had been flipped.
For the instant that wound was inflicted, something severe occurred, and...
"John...!"
As if it were no more than an illusion, the fog had lifted, revealing all that lay beneath.
