Darkness enveloped your vision until your eyes fluttered open to the pulsating crimson glow of emergency lights, painting the confined space with a ghostly hue. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning circuitry, and the piercing wail of alarms reverberated in your skull, masking the echoes of distant chaos. As you shifted to sit up, a searing bolt of pain radiated from your leg where the jagged edge of a broken bone jutted out. Blood trickled steadily down your face, warm and sticky, pooling at the edge of your lip.

Slowly you realized that you were trapped in a storage closet, its metal walls closing in like a tomb. Each frantic beat of your heart reminded you of your injuries and the hopelessness of your situation. Just as despair began to creep in, the muffled thud of boots drew nearer. The sound paused briefly before the door rattled, followed by a low, gruff voice with a thick southern drawl. "God darn it! Hold on tight in there!" The door groaned as it was pried open, revealing the scowling face of Jim Samson. His unruly hair was slick with sweat, and his rugged features contorted in irritation. The Chief Engineer leaned heavily on a makeshift crutch, his bad leg dragging behind him, but his sharp eyes scanned you with a mixture of scrutiny and concern.

“Well, hellfire. Look at ya, all busted up like a cheap toy. Don’t just sit there bleedin’ like yer auditioning for a tragedy. Come on, we’ve got to move. And don’t make me carry ya, I ain’t got the patience nor the back for it.” Despite the bite in his tone, he crouched awkwardly, ready to help. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now.” He muttered, more to himself than you. For all his gruffness, Jim’s calloused hands were steady as he worked to assess your injuries, muttering curses at whoever had put you in this mess. The Chief Engineer might’ve been an ass, but he wasn’t about to leave you behind.