A rumble shook the corridor as two isolated figures pounded past row after row of cold cement pillars. They stopped to glance over their shoulders in a patch of flickering grey light. How that one fluorescent bulb had survived weeks off the power grid and on reserve generator INTJ would never know, but he had more important things to worry about.

"Great, they're onto us, again," said INTP.

"Well we aren't going to get out of this godforsaken place if we stand around gawking are we?"

"I just need a minute," INTP said. He leaned over with his hands on his knees, "radios aren't exactly the lightest things to escape abandoned test facilties with."

INTP was a rather tall man. Lanky, with a soft face and brown fuzzy hair that matched his deep brown eyes. On his back was strapped a military grade radio. A single belt of shotgun shells was hung over his left shoulder and his utility vest bulged with various items that INTJ always insisted he didn't need. INTP liked to be ready for every contingency though, he knew a million things could go wrong with a plan. Case in point was their current expedition.

"Didn't I say you should drop it? There's no-one out there to hear us anyway," said INTJ.

"Says the one wearing a freaking hockey mask, can you even breathe in that thing dude?"

"Shut up, there's nothing wrong with-"

Before the pair could argue the point further, a door smashed open down the corridor and a crowd of what appeared to be sickly people in all-white jumpsuits piled out and into the dim light.

"Well, looks like it's time to get moving!" said INTJ.

The two heaved for air as they bolted down the corridor, scrambling right when another grey-lino floor split off from their path. Turn after turn brought them to a single small hallway with a set of locked double doors at the end and an opening leading off to the left. A green 'EXIT' sign buzzed above the doors.

"This looks a little more promising," said INTP.

The shuffle of a crowd of feet grew louder in the dimness behind them.

"Well you'd better get working your magic before we end up crispy fried," said INTJ

"You know they don't fry-"

"It's an expression."

INTP leaned down at the exit's lock and pulled a black container out of his vest. He opened it and took out two slender pieces of metal. He shoved them into the keyhole and listened carefully as they slid over the mechanism inside. INTJ turned and pulled a pistol out of the old holster he wore on his right hip. In contrast to INTP, INTJ was a stocky man. He had shaggy blond hair which he swept to the side. His square face was hidden behind a hockey mask and on his torso he wore a tattered green blazer, the sleeves of which had been torn off and the pockets replaced with steel plates. In the holster belt was also shoved a hefty machette. INTJ carried very little else. He liked to think he was good at predicting the future, the most likely outcomes. He was starting to question this more and more lately though. He hadn't foreseen their current situation or that the infestation had spread so far east in the technological development facility.

"You know, you'd think we'd both know our way around this place better by now," said INTJ.

"Well I guess this is what happens when you bury your head in your work and go home in a daze every day."

"Please, we both know you didn't go home."

"My office mattress served me well thank you very much and you'll be glad for my dedication when we finally pull this off. Now shut up, I'm working," said INTP.

Unfortunately they'd have to "pull it off" at a later date. INTJ raised his weapon as the first ashen face showed itself around the corner. A deafening crack filled the air and the figure stumbled back, a spray of red appearing on the wall. Two more shots and the creature finally fell to the ground. Its white clothing slowly turned crimson as it lay a pool of its own blood. No sooner had it fallen than a large group of the same pasty creatures rounded the corner. At least fifteen sets of milky eyes fixated on INTJ as the mob moved down the hall. INTJ pumped round after round into the group. A couple of them fell, but still the crowd advanced.

"How's that lock going buddy?" said INTJ, panic starting to creep into his voice.

"Well it's hard when I can't hear in my left ear anymore!"

"Are we looking at getting out before these things get any closer?"

"You'll be lucky," said INTP.

"No time for that!" said INTJ and grabbed INTP by the collar, dragging him into the off-shoot they had seen earlier as a half-destroyed hand reached out for them. The rest of the enemy arrived at the door in short order and continued after the pair. INTJ and INTP ran at break-neck speed before coming to a grinding halt as they faced a solid stone wall.

"Did they seriously put this here just for supply cupboards!" said INTP as he stared at the remorseless stone and two small doors with black labels reading "cleaning supplies". Both would-be raiders turned to see that they were completely blocked off from their exit by the creatures that pursued them. INTP pumped the action of his shotgun and INTJ slid his last magazine into his pistol.

"Well, this is crap," said INTJ.

"Any amazing insights into how we can get out of this?" said INTP.

"Nope, anything in your bag of tricks for us?"

"Nope."

"Fan-bloody-tastic"

The pair fired relentlessly into the group bearing down on them. A metallic taste filled the air and the smell of spent gunpowder was overpowering. Gun-smoke got thicker and thicker as the pair expended their amunition and it became more diffcult to breathe. INTJ gasped beneath his mask. INTP might have been right, why did he wear this thing again? The mob had gotten so close that INTJ pulled the machette from his belt and plunged it into one of the creatures' necks as it grasped his arm. A shot of blood sprayed out, painting his mask. Oh yeah, that's why he wore it. The duo was fighting with all they had left. INTJ slashed again and again as INTP ran out of shells and started butt-stroking left and right, desperately trying to fend of the reaching hands that sought to tear them apart. They both knew it was hopeless.

"I don't think we're getting out of this one buddy," said INTJ above the din.

"Any regrets?" asked INTP.

"Yeah, we never cleaned up the workshop."

"There's nothing wrong with the workshop."

"Are you kidding? I can't even find a screwdriver when I-"
INTJ was knocked to the ground by a flailing fist. The room got dimmer as the mob loomed over them. All that INTJ could hear was the hiss of the attackers and a faint beep. beep. beep.

Wait, what?

Beep. beep. beeeeeeeep.

A deafening explosion shook the walls and the double exit doors blasted inwards, taking with them a large portion of the creatures standing in the main hallway. They slid to the end of the corridor, scraping blood the entire way. Cement dust filled the air and a bright light shone through the exit. The pair heard the click, click, click of hard-soled shoes, the deep rumble of an engine and the piercing screech of metal dragging on the ground. A small figure rounded the corner. Covered in dust and lit from one side stood a young woman with a heart-shaped face, a delicate nose and flowing blonde hair. On her head was a black beret and she wore a pink lace-trimmed shirt with wide sleeves. Her legs were covered by black leggings which had been re-stitched in at least five places, over which was a short floral skirt. Her right hand rested on her hip, but most amazing was her other side. Extending down from her left shoulder was a powered prosthetic arm. Pistons and wires bleamed beneath a few brass plates. Gripped in the skeleton-like hand was a large chainsaw which she dragged on the ground behind her. Single-handedly, she brought the weapon up and gave it a whirr, glaring death at the now-diminished group of creatures standing between her and the fallen duo.

"Hey zomboes," said ISFJ, "heard you been messing with MY nerds."