Dante Romero's Story

Romero kept his face protected mostly, sometimes moving his arms to absorb the force of a punch to his body if he couldn't avoid the attacks completely. He retreated away from Aeryn, back towards the exit his lab techs had used earlier to escape. "This is fun. A little painful, but fun." Romero said stoically, it was hard to tell if he was serious or just taunting Aeryn.

The necromancer continued to back away towards the exit, until he would eventually be stepping through it. He searched out of the corner of his eyes for the panel that would close the door, eventually reaching out to it to hopefully close the door in front of Aeryn's face.

That would buy Romero enough time to get away or find a suitable weapon to use on the would-be hero.

The door dropped downwards, but Aeryn wasn't about to let Romero get away that easily. The silvis' arms shot out and he grabbed the side of the door as it slid across, grunting with effort as his silverite-enhanced muscle strained against the mechanisms. The sound of grinding metal and breaking machinery began to come from the door, as Aeryn forcefully pulled it open enough for him to dive through after the retreating necromancer. The door remained in place, halfway open, its inner workings distorted and broken.

The time had been bought, however, and Romero had quite a lead on him. Aeryn broke into a sprint, launching himself down the corridor after Romero at high speeds, each footfall accompanied by a burst of energy that propelled him forwards like a cannonball. He stayed hot on the man's heels, though each corner turned slowed him down as he was forced to redirect his momentum.

"What's the matter?" he yelled after Romero, "Not got quite as much fight as you thought you did, huh?"

Arien followed after the chase at a safe distance, his vampiric agility enabling him to keep up. He held back away from any possibility of being caught in the crossfire, though, for self-preservation was (as usual) his utmost priority.

"Foolish to think I assumed I had any fight in me. I'm not a fighter." Romero's voice echoed through the mostly empty halls, the only people who remained were security officers and scientists packing up and looting the facility. They didn't care about Aeryn or Romero's fight, they were cutting their losses. The job was done. The mission was complete.

Romero knew this as well, but he could give Aeryn something to remember. That was the plan, anyways. If anyone came down to be the hero, make them regret it.

"Let me introduce you to X-12. Yes, it sounds a bit cliche, it's more practical than anything. Short version of experiment 12." Romero said, the sounds of door after door closing and locking echoing through the halls. It was clear that wherever Romero was, he was intent on locking himself somewhere safe.

Not safe from Aeryn, but safe from whatever beast he had just released.

Down a hall came a man, he was naked, pale and gaunt. Almost sickly. His body was wet, but seemed to be drying. He looked towards a few security officers heading for an exit, then towards the sound of Aeryn. His pale white eyes piercing the growing darkness of the failing facility.

There was something unsettling about the gaze, like the man was dead inside. He had no humanity left, it wasn't like Romero's apathy. This man was warped, tortured, robbed of everything that made him man.

He was a weapon with no purpose, no soul, no reason to live except to kill everything and everyone where he was released.

For now he stood quietly, statue-esque at the end of the hall.

Aeryn stood as a silvery beacon in the spreading dark, as lights began to flicker. The aura of silverite around him was visible in the shadow, luminescent. The young silvis came to a halt at the end of the hall, by the first of what was, by the sounds of it, many doors that Romero was hiding behind. He turned when he heard footsteps approaching, amidst all the others that were retreating away.

"Experiment twelve, is it?" Aeryn repeated, eyeing the gaunt man warily. The bracers upon his wrists flourished into life once again with a ripple of gold in readiness. "I'm guessing there's more to him than what it looks like. 'cause he doesn't look like much."

He pointed a finger at the strange man, "Hey! You, experiment twelve. I don't wanna fight you. I wanna punch the voice in the ceiling till it shuts the hell up. So if you just wanna head for the exit and not go all 'mindless weapon' on me, that'd be great." He sighed, shrugging, "Not that I expect you will. You don't have the 'hearing words' look to you. Doubt you're registering a word I'm saying."

The man's staring eyes were unsettling, for sure, but Aeryn wasn't cowed. He held his ground for the moment, unwilling to strike first, but also unwilling to turn his back on the strange figure.

Arien lurked back around the corner, watching the experiment stare down the corridor at the end of which he assumed the would-be hero was located from a safe distance.

"Let's see what your toys can do, big man," the vampire murmured under his breath.

Experiment twelve listened to Aeryn, even if he couldn't really understand him anymore. Any humanity he had in the past was taken by Lochlyn's team of scientists. The gaunt experiment had a few visible tattoos, one even said 'Proud To Be Terran'. The reality that this was a man made monster would probably hit a soft spot in most.

It even hit a soft spot in Romero. He just ignored his own humanity, it made you wonder who the monster really was.

X-12 shuffled along towards Aeryn, body jerking violently every few seconds. The man spit up off-color blood, it was more orange than crimson. It seemed to coagulate a lot faster than it should have. The experiment's skin began to tear, revealing his bloodly muscles and tendons.

Then his body began to grow, to expand, the sickening sound as his muscles and bones stretched unnaturally bouncing off of the walls. The experiment let out a bloodcurdling scream that cut through the air like a flaming sword through microwaved butter.

Blood dripped from his torn body, skin tearing at his eyes and mouth. He was beginning to look like an oversized decaying corpse, but he was alive. In a sense. Physically.

X-12 charged towards Aeryn, his body expanding more and more until he could barely fit in the hallway. He ignored any, if there was any in the first place, from scraping against and tearing the metal of the underground complex. All it knew was pain, pain at the hands of men under the others of a man who was driven by pain.

But, that didn't matter. It was life and death, Aeryn had a fight on his hands.

"Alright, ugly, let's dance."

It wasn't that Aeryn wasn't disgusted by what had been done to X-12 (or more accurately, whoever X-12 had once been), but rather that he could see in the man... the thing's eyes that there was nothing left to be done for it. At least, nothing that he could see. Putting it out of its misery was, he figured, the best thing he could manage.

As X-12 charged, Aeryn drew in a breath and planted his feet. The silvery energy around his arms expanded, beginning to glow more brilliantly as it formed into two massive gleaming silver-white hands, easily the equal of X-12's own limbs. He met the hulking thing's charge head on, slamming the palms of energy forwards around his own arms and catching it with a grunt of effort. His feet skidded backwards across the metal floor until they planted against the door behind him and found more solid purchase.

Aeryn growled, his face contorting with effort. He pushed back against X-12, held it in a deadlock for several long moments.

And then he released it. The silvis' hand-projections vanished and he propelled himself downwards between the experiment's legs even as the force and momentum likely carried it barelling into the wall behind him. Sliding along the ground, Aeryn quickly regained his feet with a hop, spinning around to face X-12. The bracers on his arm flashed bright gold as he extended his hands forwards, and lightning jumped from his fingers with an almighty crack to zap towards its hulking form.

"Strength's nothing without flexibility, without the wisdom to use it well. Took me a while to figure that one out myself, so don't feel bad about it taking you a while to catch on." the young man quipped with a cocky grin.

The hulking creature crashed into the wall, nearly going through the metal despite the metal's own strength. X-12 turned only to be met with lightning in it's face. The creature let out a loud grunt, it didn't like the pain, the burning feeling. It was enraged.

X-12 fought through the pain, reaching out to grab Aeryn with the intent to then slam him into a wall. To break him if he could.

As this went on, and he was safe from X-12's rampage, Romero stepped out of the room he hid in. He began down a hall towards one of the other exits to the facility, hopefully one that wasn't blocked by debris or that would lead him right into the path of any law enforcement or military.

"Turn back." Romero's voice echoed through Arien's head, "Meet me at the spaceport, I'll wait for you. My ride won't like it, but they have no choice but to wait with me." Romero found a suitable exit, a staircase leading up to what used to be the underground parking garage of the Jupiter Corporation building. Maybe he could find a car to use, one that wasn't destroyed in Lochlyn's fight with Hatyara and the police.

"Resilient motherfucker, aren't you?" Aeryn muttered.

He met X-12's reaching hand with a burst of force, aimed to both knock the limb away and propel himself a few feet backwards out of reach. From there, he swept forwards, lashing out with a series of kicks and punches. Though the strikes themselves fell far short of X-12 for the distance, each was accompanied by a mirroring lash of gleaming energy, strikes of force that slammed violently towards it with every motion. Each swing flowed smoothly into the next, each sweeping kick carrying its momentum onwards into the next. A bead of sweat formed on his brow from the maintained exertion.

As he moved through the last flowing strike, Aeryn's hand went down to the sword at his hip and drew it from its sheathe cleanly. The hefty longsword seemed hardly to weigh him down at all. Clutching the weapon, he dove forwards, aiming to duck and weave past X-12's reach in order to thrust the weapon into its chest.

At the end of the hall, Arien looked up sharply at the sound of Romero's voice in his head. His green eyes glinted in the darkness as he watched Aeryn and X-12 fight, but he did not linger for long. With a new destination in mind, the young vampire turned and moved towards the exit that he had come from, and from there onwards out of the business district.

The creature was slowed down by each struck, not that he had any speed to work with in the first place. Even if there was no real damage being done Aeryn pretty much had the advantage, X-12 attempted to swat his enemy as he ducked his attempt to grab him.

All the same he found a sword being thrust into his chest. There was visible pain on his ruined face as his strange blood seeped from his wound. The creature retreated from Aeryn, reaching for the sword to pull it from his chest. It didn't like the pain.

If the source of the pain was removed the pain would come to an end, right?

Romero found a team of Jupiter Corporation security guards getting ready to depart in a truck, running over to them. "Take off those uniforms, some of the cyborgs wore the same. I don't want the police on us." Romero said, climbing into the truck with the others.

Some of the men and women climbing into the back of the truck. A sight that probably wouldn't be off in the current climate. But, Romero had to deal with the fact that he and his men weren't being attacked soon.

Coming up the street from the business district was a large silver pickup truck, men and women sitting inside and some sitting in the back. They had guns in hand and a few even waved towards those manning the barricade on their end of the street.

"We need to make it look more convincing." Romero said, "What do you mean?" The truck's driver asked, "You're about to find out." Romero answered, giving a mental order to his horde of undead cyborgs. A few in the area began to converge on the truck, lunging at the men and women inside and riding in the back.

Romero knew he was in no real danger, and he wouldn't care if he was, the suited man just sat stoically as his mindless drones pulled a few of his own people from the back of the truck. Tearing them apart as their comrades, in confusion, fear and anger, opened fire.

"Jesus, open fire. Clear a path for them." Lennox ordered, Invictus Elites and NPA Enforcers stepping past the barricade to open fire on the hordes attacking the truck or that might be deciding to turn their sights on the rest of the area.

It was amazing that anyone, anything, could get out of the de facto no man's land that was the business district, but stranger things had happened in Wing City, on Terra.

The trenchcoated man stared long and silent at the uncovered dead masses that lay before him. A sneer spread across his shrouded face. There they were - hundreds of souls simply awaiting his call. First, however, he needed to know what he was dealing with...

He stretched out his open gloved hand and a single zomborg was ripped from the ground where it stood. It flew across the street like a ragdoll before slamming into the man's grip. The creature's skull cracked in his clenched hand. He brought its face up to his eyes and drilled his gaze into its soul. His powerful predatory consciousness probed the rotting docile mind of the undead cyborg. As the necromancer sifted through the muddled layers of the undead's mind, his will gripped a single psychic thread - a chain - like a serpent entrapping its prey. He followed the thread through the astral and spiritual plain in search of the will that had chained the mind and soul of the undead.

"I can see you, whelp." he growled through the necromantic channel that tied master and slave. "I can see your mind. I can see your soul. I can see every spirit chained to your weak and unrefined will. Your legions will fall before my impregnable domination like a forest to the inferno. They will sever their bonds with you and kneel before my power! My ravenous wraiths, rotting hordes, and skeletal armies will rend them in their bloodhaze! Then I will come for you and RIP YOUR MIND AND SOUL APART!"

The trenchcoated man tossed the zomborg into a nearby wall with a flick of his wrist.

"Darkness calls to you, friends." the Figure's voice echoed through the realm of Death. "No longer shall you suffer the injustice of Life - the cruelty of the Living. However, your time in this world is not yet completed. Return to us, so that you may bring your former brothers and sisters into the comforting embrace of Death!"

"Rise, tormented souls! Rise from your sleep! Hear the call of your master! RISE!!!" his voice thundered.

A wave of energy erupted from him. It carried only a modicum of his dark hatred and fiery rage, but it passed over the army like a demonic inferno. As it washed over the corpses, they began to jerk and convulse as their spirits were chained - their minds shackled - to the will of the Necromancer. Tongues of blue flames erupted in their eye sockets as they were infused with his passion - his being.

The corpses slowly rose to their feet and gazed at their new master. They hungered for command. Any command. Kill or maim? Destroy or build? Instead, the man in the trench-coat simply turned around and walked away. Both he and the corpses shambled towards the darkness.

Romero and his men were busy getting ready to board their ship. Romero stopped suddenly when he heard the voice echoing through his head, "You alright?" One of his escorts asked, "Nothing. Just bravado and no bite." The necromancer answered, "Continue on." He said to his men, turning back towards the city.

"Soul?" Romero's voice shot back, a blanket of his own mental power shooting back to retain control of his own legions of cybernetic undead. The surge of power back at the usurper to Romero's title of general over the cyborg zombies would be much greater than one would initially expect.

It was clear that either Romero had some skills, tricks up his sleeves or was actually much more powerful than he looked.

"You see no soul, dog. The notion that a soul even exists in me anymore shows your lack of depth. For all of your purple prose, your creative tongue, you do not have eyes to see that your power isn't real power. It's an illusion, a figment of your delusional imagination." Romero continued as he fought back even harder against his current enemy.

"In layman's terms, you're full of shit. I care not for your challenge, but I will defend myself against your... ham."

In the aftermath of the escape, Dante stood in Lochlyn's office with several of the higher ranked mercenaries and Jupiter Corporation soldiers. The door to the office slid open, Hannibal making his way in with another group of mercenaries and Lochlyn's soldiers.

"You're late. This is a first." Dante said, "Had to take care of something. Has he called yet?" Hannibal asked Dante, "Not yet. But, he should be in no time." Dante answered.

"Incoming transmission from The Janus." A soldier said, tapping a few buttons on Lochlyn's desk. A holographic image shot up of Lochlyn seated in what appeared to be a throne in the middle of a facility or a spacecraft. The ageless man was stoic was usual, silent for several long moments.

"There aren't many places they could go." Lochlyn finally began, "Burn everything to the ground and do it with discretion." The Englishman ordered, "Aether City, Siren, Hanzai, the prison if you have to. Create chaos, war, rebellion, anger. Show no mercy." Lochlyn continued.

"What's the plan exactly?" Dante asked, "The blame game." Hannibal answered in Lochlyn's place. "The people on this planet are already volatile, some hostile or distrusting of others. We can attack Aether, make it look like terrorism, the government will crack down if we leave evidence pointing to a small town." Hannibal explained.

"And, we can attack and slaughter a few small towns and blame it on the government in retaliation for the attacks." Dante added, "Or, because they're just dicks." A mercenary said, "What about the ones who escaped?" Hannibal asked.

"Put a bounty out on them. Make it very high. I want the woman alive, John and the Serbian can die for all I care. Sold into slavery. They're bigger threats right now. Their connections and skill." Lochlyn answered, "But, doesn't the woman have connections on Terra? And what connections does the Serbian have?" Dante asked.

"I'll take care of the woman's connections on Terra. Just kill the Serbian and John." With those words the holographic display disappeared.

"I'll keep searching for the woman with the gems." Dante told Hannibal, "Mhm. I'll handle the rest." Hannibal said, "Everyone... move out. Let's start a war."

"Or two."

Night was steadily falling on Solinus City, it's bright lights shooting on to render the stars in the sky unseen. It was a shame. At least Dante thought so.

The Spanish man watched as the stars faded from sight from atop an apartment building, letting out a sigh. There was something about what he saw that resonated in him. Made him feel something.

That didn't last long, the man was still a shell of his former self and the humanity he felt was crushed by the void that was Dante Romero. He looked down at the street, watching the people and the cars that went by. The city was beautiful, it was a shame that is had to be on Terra.

Solinus City itself was a light in the darkness that consumed Terra.

"This is perfect."

Dante stood on a corner across the road from the NPA field office right there in Asteria City, his eyes focused on it for only a moment before he looked around at all of the cars and people making their way to work and appointments. The Afro-Spanish man took a step back from the street as white van sped down the road.

People nearly crashed into each other, and some actually bumped other vehicles, as the van cut through traffic and almost caused a pileup. Angry people shouted and yelled at the van's driver, some whipping out their phones to call the police and report a hit and run. The law wouldn't have to look very far as the van turned off from the road and headed straight towards the NPA office's front entrance.

The driver ducked down, clearly hoping to avoid bullets, debris and glass when, if, he made it all the way to his target.

Dante began to cross the street as this happened, delivery trucks already on the scene breaking off from the normal flow of traffic and moving up closer to the building. More began to approach from other directions. In total there had to be about ten trucks, each one blocking traffic. The drivers of each truck jumped out, quickly scrambling to open their truck's back doors.

Out came men and women dressed in dark blue jumpsuits and wearing armored vests. Most of them carried rifles, though a slect few carried what seemed to be grenade launchers. Those with the launchers fired them in many different directions, mostly towards the NPA office and the street.

The fired shells didn't explode normally, they did burst open to spread tear gas. The attackers were hoping to confuse the people around them, keep them from knowing what hit them until they were hit ten times over if it could be managed.

"We're ready to move." One of the attackers said, she and the others taking cover behind their trucks and newly abandoned vehicles.

"Give the order."

The swerving van was the first sign that something was amiss as Shelly was caught in her tracks. Her initial assumption was that it was a vehicle out of control, rather than the start of something more sinister, even as it hit the stone steps and bounced precariously into a railing. It lost most of its momentum clearing the steps, and the building itself was sturdy enough that it came to a rather abrupt and forceful stop as it collided with the concrete walls that formed the framework of the doors.

The audible sound of folding metal colliding with concrete and broken glass fell quiet as the van sat, partially lodged in the front entrance of the building, and for a moment it seemed that the crisis had passed. Given that the van more or less barred entrance into the building - as well as departure - it would take climbing over the vehicle to enter or leave the building, unless one wanted to climb through the twisted metal and broken glass of the front windshield.

Outside, people gawked in dismay at the car accident, still oblivious that it was only the precursor to something more sinister.

It was Shelly who took note of the other vehicles breaking free from the traffic and she dropped down behind a parked police car on the street side. No one as seated within it, and its driver was likely inside, but it would afford her some cover from hostile eyes as she drew her firearm from her jacket. Flipping the safety off, she threw a glance around the bumper of the car to see vehicles congregating at the front of the NPA office. There were shouts from all directions as people panicked and fled in all directions from the scene.

Shelly had  a clear shot at any number of the men spilling out of the back of the vehicles, but she was alone out here if they returned fire. She flipped her phone out and dialed in a number to report the situation to the people still inside the building. It would perhaps provide them a faster reaction time, knowing what they were facing outside. The van lodged in the doorway would provide a barricade of sorts against those trying to enter the building, but the security guards would likely be outgunned if the men made it inside the building.

She had her gun in hand while she stayed on the phone reporting everything she was seeing, and she had the sense to know that her eyes where more valuable than her gun at the moment.

She ducked back behind the car as she reached out telepathically to try and glean the surface thoughts and intentions from the men spilling out of the vehicles in front of the building. She would only have a few moments though to pick up what she could before the fired shells began to billow gas outwards across the street.

Shelly threw her coat over her face as the gas overtook her, but it swiftly marred her vision as the fumes filled her eyes and her lungs. The coat afforded only minimal protection as it burned down her throat, leaving her coughing violently with tears stinging at her eyes and blurring her vision. Every instinct screamed at her to get out of the gas, but it was everywhere.

There was a voice speaking her name on the phone that she put back to her ear.

"They're using tear gas," she managed to choke out before she found herself doubled over coughing and retching onto the hot pavement.

___________________

Shelly's timely phone call afforded some measure of comprehension as to what the NPA would be facing if the attackers breached the building, but it would take time to reinforce the front lobby. Gas masks where being distributed to those being sent to assist at the front, but for the moment only two security guards stood between the attackers and the rest of the NPA building. Fortunately the van provided a barricade that would stem the speed at which they could flood the building, and both guards had taken a knee at the top of the interior lobby steps, with a pair of white marble pillars for cover. The interior steps where too spacious to bottleneck the attackers should they make it over the van and into the lobby, but both security guards where prepared to fire at anyone trying to clear the van to gain entrance.

"Go." Dante said, the blue-clad terrorists tossing each other gasmasks and slipping them on to avoid being brought down by their own tear gas. That would be embarrassing. "Okay. Let's move!" The female leader commanded, the Jupiter Corporation assault force moving in towards the NPA building slowly. Every once in awhile two soldiers breaking off in search of other exits, entrances into the buildings sub-levels.

They couldn't afford to be ambushed, the terrorsts wanted to remain in control of the situation. They were very clearly trained for this kind of event. Many of them were former soldiers who had become mercenaries or disillusioned by war and it's high costs. A far cry from your run-of-the-mill terrorists.

The thoughts Shelly picked up from the attackers ranged from apathetic and greedy, probably from the mercenaries among their ranks, to excited about the attack and the prospect of violence. But, a few stood out.

'Get in. Destroy it all.' repeated over and over as if someone was trying to remember it, trying to stick to the game plan.

The back doors to the totaled van flew open, the driver tossing himself out onto the ground. He was bloodied from the crash, a hand covering his mouth to protect from the gas. He stood up quickly, rushing away from the scene of the 'accident' and the tear gas.

"Inside." The female commander ordered, several of the terrorists climbing ito the van from the now open back doors. The soldiers got up to the front, aiming their weapons out of the busted windshield. "Surrender now! I promise we won't hurt you if you do!." One of them shouted to the security guards in the lobby.

"Veronica!" One of the Jupiter Corporation soldiers to the rear of the group shouted, eyes focused on Shelly. He was cautiously moving towards her, not taking any chances. She could have been a black belt in some strange martial art that makes heads explode. "We've got one here." He said, raising his rifle on Shelly.

The female commander, Veronica, broke away from her people at the lobby entrance to sprint towards Shelly and the terrorist watching her cough up her lungs. "Hands up and drop everything your hands." Veronica said to Shelly, "If you have any weapons on you tell me now and I won't have you shot. I'll get you a mask if you're honest."

Veronica didn't seem to be any taller than Shelly, blonde hair and green eyes peeking from beneath her own gasmask.

"You only get one chance to become my hostage." Veronica added.

The NPA's saving grace to the surprise attack continued to be Shelly's capacity to monitor the movement of the attackers from outside. It was she who warned the interior that several of the terrorists numbers had split off from the main assault, and to warn those within the building to expect attacks against other entrance points.

Her reports where broken up with the gagging induced by the tear gas. She needed to get out of this smog... Her eyes were red and puffy and tears ran freely until everything was just a blur.

When the man stepped out of the haze and Shelly could make out the blurry outline of the rifle pointed at her, she froze as best she could between the retching. She moved slowly, laying the gun down on the pavement at her side while returning the cellphone to her pocket.

She wasn't a moron. She could barely see, let alone shoot, and the man had the shot. If he hadn't taken it, he likely wasn't planning to.

By the time Veronica reached her and started barking orders she had her eyes pinched shut against the tear gas, but it did nothing to relieve the irritant.

"Look, I'm not a part of this. I was just on my way to work," she managed to utter. "I don't have any other weapons."

She doubled over, her forehead against the pavement and one arm across her stomach as she warred against the nausea.

"I'm a security guard over at the social security office on State Ave..." she lied.

An NPA agent might make a valuable hostage, but a security guard less so... if they bought the lie, and if they didn't search her and find her badge inside the wallet in her coat. Two big ifs, but it was the best she had under the circumstances.

"It's your lucky day." Veronica told Shelly, stepping closer to the woman and reaching out to pull her to her feet. "Give me your phone. Everyone has a cellphone." She said, "Get her a mask." The woman ordered the Corporation soldier, "Yes, sir." He responded, casting a glance at Shelly before he jogged off towards one of the trucks the attackers arrived in.

Veronica stared out from beneath her gasmask's visor at Shelly, her blue, formerly green, eyes never leaving the woman even once. It was clear that Veronica was trying to gauge Shelly. There were things that made her suspicious of the woman.

What security guard carries a briefcase? Why was this so-called security guard going to work from the NPA HQ? As far as Veronica was concerned, her new hostage was a liar. But, she'd keep that to herself for now. She now. One NPA agent didn't matter much. Veronica's leader had a bigger picture to paint.

When the earlier soldier returned with a gasmask, Veronica snatched it away. "Put this on." She said to Shelly, holding the gasmask out for her to take. "And then follow me. I need a bargaining chip."

When Veronica asked for the phone, Shelly knew the gig was up - if Veronica had believed it in the first place at all. She had left it on the line, in the hopes that the people on the other end would realize what was going on, or overhear something of use.

The motion of being pulled to her feet was making her nausea nigh unbearable. She put her hands on the trunk of the car to keep on her feet before fishing the phone out of her pocket and placing it on the hood.

She might as well have been blind by this point. Even the gas mask couldn't relieve the irritation of the chemicals that had already gotten into her eyes. She had to be led along by her arm as she struggled to see through the haze of blurred vision.