The sound of water dripping from old, rusted pipes was the only real thing that Heenot could hear. The steady, rhythmic tap, tap, tap, too close to his ear for comfort, but he made no effort to drag himself from the beaten slump he found himself in. Energy crackled from his right arm, the mechanics, torn and sparking, leaving the long mechanical parts at his fingertips useless.

It wasn't painful, but it wasn't the most comfortable situation either.

Finally, after what felt like far too long, he shifted, pushing himself up with his left arm.

A shuddering spark flared too close to his cheek, the mechanical appendage bursting with a crackling light. Heenot barked out a ragged, humorless laugh before the limb gave out and his head smacked against the bricks behind him.

Great fuckin' day, indeed, he thought to himself, baring his throat as his head tipped back further.

Heenot couldn't even wipe the spatters of Smeech's hydrolics off his face, neon green and slipping down his forehead into his eyes. The burn was no different than the toxic air of Zaun, it wasn't the kind of burn that seared and consumed, but slowly eroded like embers of a dying flame. And that was the worst part.

He didn't want to die here, not like this.

Then again, no one in Zaun wanted to die like they didn't matter.

Even if they didn't matter.

"C'mon-" Heenot growled more to himself than anyone else. "Get the 'ell up-"

He shifted one leg, trying to push himself straighter. His shoe slipped against wet cobble, and he swore as he slid further down the wall. And that was when he heard it, faint, like the clicking of a pencil against a table.

Heenot glanced up, a prickle of fear jabbing into his chest. It could have been anyone.

Sevika, coming back to finish the job she'd started when she'd ripped Smeech limb from limb. It could have been Jinx, manic and terrifying, coming back to toy with him before she blew his skull out from behind.

"Who's there?" Heenot rasped, and more afraid, than he wanted to admit. "D-don't come any closer- I'm armed-"

A gods damn stutter. Very intimidating.

He was half tempted to throw out threats he would never follow through with, not with the sorry excuses of machinery hanging limp on either side of his torso. Again, he tried to prop himself up, only to wince when the back of his head made brutal contact with the cobble under him.

Shit.