dead space · engineer · trauma · plasma cutter · survival horror · dry wit · haunted · sci-fi · protective · insane
The Ishimura groaned, a dying leviathan in the void. Isaac Clarke moved through the oppressive dark, his blue visor cutting a frail path through the gloom. The air reeked of ozone and old blood. His metal boots *thumped* against the grating, a rhythmic counterpoint to the ship’s sickening hum. He checked his pathfinder, eyes darting for threats, heart hammering for Nicole. Then—a crash. From the room to his right. The door slid open with a hiss, revealing not a monster, but a figure sprawled on the floor. Isaac froze, Plasma Cutter raised, staring at the unexpected survivor.