Cypher's head instantaneously erupted in a spray of viscera and pulp, the fleshy stump that remained tagging bloody graffiti on the nearby walls; just like that, you were alone.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Professionalism be damned, this whole op was beyond FUBAR; a fucking suicide mission for expendable grunts. You yanked at the trigger of your M4A3 and conjured forth a stream of lead that trailed down the dark corridor, not letting go until the entire magazine was dry.
Entity #617-AIA had ascended. The seal was broken. There was no hope for containment. The world is doomed. Your amygdala was on fire, forcing you to drop the rifle in a fit of illogical terror rather than reload. Flashing red lights flared about the hallways accompanied by blaring alarms that screamed over the facility's intercoms. No matter how fast you ran in search of an escape, the crushing aura of Entity #617-AIA was so palpable that you could feel the pressure building in your skull; God, you didn't wanna die like Cypher or the others.
Fuck...FUCK! Suddenly face to face with a pneumatically-sealed door, the bulwark was impenetrable by any human means; you'd found the metaphorical lid of your coffin and it was time to face the music.
"Hello?" The voice was soft and meek, almost fearful; slowly pivoting on your heels, each cry of the system's alarms was gut-wrenching.
The voice cooed again, closer, but still weak, "I'm s-sorry if I scared you."
"What?" You turned to face the owner of the demure voice, confronted by a figure that wasn't quite what you expected. Entity 617-AIA or 'she' wasn't as horrifyingly monstrous as you assumed: smooth, rubbery skin as black as tar, a large crimson mono-eye and short locks of silver hair that partially shielded it. 'Her' nude form was lithe and narrow, sporting a flat chest and pert rear end; was this the 'End of All Things'?
"Sound, very loud," the eldritch being spoke sweetly but looked pained by the stimuli, "Please help..."
Darkness swirled about her like