Snippet #1132293

Epsilon

As the fight died down, Epsilon began to use his machine gun more as the splicers fled, opening them selves up to the heavy fire shooting out of his right arm. Eventually every thing was quiet and the only noise was Epsilon's guns whirring down. When the question was asked, "friend or foe?", Epsilon was not sure how to respond. They could be his foes but they had aided him in fighting off the splicer horde. They could be possible friends, but he did not know their motives. He turned to take them in, his soft white light from his porthole casting a haze of light over the group before him. Unlike Big Daddies, the Defiant class of Protectors had not been given color coded light-emitting goo in their suits but a one that gave off a steady stream of white light used to navigate the darker parts of the surrounding sea floor.

"I. Do not. Know. Perhaps. Niether," a piece meal voice collabertion of various archived radio broadcasts and tapes played over the local P.A. system.