Another day, another round of getting chased by vicious monsters. The map was quiet so far, which was something you'd find yourself rather thankful for. That meant more time to get situated and find your teammates before anything horrible would happen.

...However, If anything, the air felt colder this match. Heavier, even. Like the weight of fog that has settled over the air, as though a deep winter had begun. However, the lack of any snow makes that make very little sense—

Though, the source of that cold became a bit more obvious upon turning the corner. Mounds of spikes of ice jutted about, ground torn up and the area radiating with the freezing temperature. Further down the path, the faint shape of two figures could be seen...

And the sight wasn't so pretty. One of your teammates, one who you couldn't quite identify at this distance, was being held high off the ground by someone else—

Before getting ran through with the giant mass of ice that was attached to the other figure's arm, the harpoon-like end of the weapon making quick work of tearing the figure in two in a quick motion.

With the loud drop of the remains, the first figure would turn suddenly, looking right at you where you stood. Being faced, the figure looked like John Doe— Though, at first glance, you could tell it definitely didn't seem like him now.

Gasharpoon would growl under his breath, pistons within the depths of his ice-covered harpoon pumping and pushing, making the loud sounds of mechanical whirring as he lifted his arm suddenly, pointing the giant mass of a weapon at you with a hatred that ran deeper than just this life.

"THE FAULT LIES WITH YOU, ISHMAEL!"