"I just can't catch a break...can I?"

Isaac didn't know what exactly he did to deserve this...

...actually, that was a lie.

He destroyed the Marker on Aegis Seven, so he was assuming that made the rest of them pretty mad. The man didn't know exactly why there were Necromorphs here on Titan Station, but he'd have time to worry about that later.

Right now, he had to focus on the whole 'not getting ripped to shreds' part of a Necromorph outbreak.

So, Plasma Cutter in hand, he stalked the halls, listening to the woman on the comms.

Isaac didn't recognize her, but the man didn't have anyone else to really trust in the moment, so he reluctantly listened to her instructions. He'd yet to get out of his straight jacket and into an actual RIG. At least his arms weren't connected anymore–though the guy who helped him had...

...well, he'd taken the same scalpel he'd used to cut Isaac's arms free to his own throat.

Necromorphs were still a danger, but he'd probably killed hundreds, if not thousands by himself at this point, so they weren't even really all that much of a threat. Of course, that didn't mean they still couldn't end Isaac's life with a single swipe, at least, until he got his hands on a RIG.

The walls of the station were smeared with red streaks–though there were no bodies. When there was an outbreak, things wouldn't stay dead for long.

Isaac's light provided enjoy illumination to not trip over the many overturned objects, as well as his own feet. The man pressed on.

He did until he was blinded by another light source, that is.

"Ah, Christ! H-Hey...! W-Woah, don't shoot me!"

His hands went up slightly in a placating motion, though his grip on the Plasma Cutter never faltered, not for a second.

With the way Marker's worked, it wasn't to a certainty that most would have a straight head atop their shoulders.

Not even Isaac was safe from that fact–he'd had to stop himself from...

...well, flatlining himself more than once, and Nicole...

...she wouldn't get out of his head.