Only when the re-enforced door slide back into place did Isaac allow himself pause. He took a long deep breath as the snarling and pounding hit the door from the other side but made no signs of getting in. Isaac's eyes flickered quickly around the room, and he saw with a deep sense of relief there were no vents from which more of the creatures could burst forth from. So long as he didn't open the door he could allow himself a few minutes rest in peace.
He lowered himself to the floor slowly against the right bulkhead, allowing his fingers to uncurl painfully from the grip of his Plasma Cutter – which he had until then been holding in a white knuckle death grip – and flex them a few times. Grunting as lances of pain shot through the protesting digits he didn't press it further, instead glancing down to inspect the damage to his Rig, and with no surprise he looked like shit. It was riddled with cuts and gouges from claws and talons, and as Isaac twisted his neck he remembered with the stinging pain his neck was red raw from the splash of a Puker's vomit that had luckily only caught him with a glance as he'd dodged to the side.
But in truth, he didn't know how long he could keep this up. His entire body ached and he was running on fumes, adrenaline and copious amounts of chemicals, and fuck even his own mind was turning against him. Not to mention the hordes of undead flesh monsters waiting to rip him to pieces and bring him back to life. In fact, as he listened he realised he could no longer hear them outside, more than likely they'd gone back into the Ishimura's mass network of vents to try again when he dropped his guard.
A half smile touched the engineer's lips at that. He'd been here before not three years previous and run the same rat race as he was right now. What goes around comes around it seems, and between the hallucinations, the utter feeling of dread, and once again the Necromorphs, it was beginning to feel much like home, albeit slightly less dangerous – but only slightly. No more Hunter, for one. By god Isaac had never felt more terrified in his life and this ships halls had made him feel fear many times. Until he'd fried the fucker in the shuttles engines he was beginning to believe he'd never be able to put it down for good.
As he blinked once more, he watched as the room twisted around him. Symbols flashed across his vision like strobe lights, and Isaac gripped his head as pain tore through him despite his urgings for it to all just go away and leave him the fuck alone.
"So do you want me to go, Isaac?"He didn't want to open his eyes. For once, please, don't let it be her. He didn't want to face her, not again. He screwed his eyes up tighter but he inexorably found them forced open. He ground his teeth to resist, but he couldn't, and his eyes opened right onto the fucked up face of his girlfriend, Nicole, with her bloody, torn uniform, gaping eye sockets and mouth from which shined a brilliant and almost blinding light. If not for the symbols that now scrolled the room, his red tinged vision and the fact she was covered in blood, it may have been almost angelic. He watched as she walked slowly across the room and he turned away from her, not wanting to look.
"Why will you not accept me?""Because you're not real!" Isaac snapped back and pain flashed through his heart at those words. He gave a shudder, his fingers curling into fists again, clenching so tight the Rig's gauntleted gloves dug into his palm hard. He noted, quite curiously, she hadn't attacked him. Or rather, he hadn't attacked himself. She usually made him did that in these situations. But this time it was less aggressive – other than the pounding in his head she hadn't made a single angry move against him. Her tone was almost sad, a change from the anger that usually poured forth.
He felt her hands on his chest, passing through the armour of his Rig and seemingly touching his very skin. His mind cried out at the touch, and he found himself almost wanting to press back against it, but didn't. Her left hand snaked up his neck and cupped his cheek; the warmth of her palm was there. It may as well have been her. Slowly she turned his head to face her, and this time he did not resist. He did not have the strength.
"You don't want to, do you Isaac? You want me, don't you? To make us whole?"As he looked into the gaping holes of her eyes, he felt no repulsion despite being so close up. He knew it was just his mind going against him – or was it, fuck he didn't know anymore – but he didn't care, for once. He didn't have it in him at that second. He was numb, every inch of him was. He just wanted this all to stop. He wanted to be in her arms, with her, and all of this – the Ishimura, the Necromorphs, was all a bad dream. He knew what she meant; he'd heard The Marker's Illusions tell him those same three words three years ago. But he didn't want to take it that way, not this time, not now. He didn't want to accept that it was just his mind.
"More than life itself..." Isaac replied finally, his tone soft and echoing his pain – his sheer loss. His heart broke once more at his words but as he blinked, she was gone. The room was normal and he found his Plasma Cutter in his hand again. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the norm. No symbols, no Nicole. Slowly, Isaac got to his feet, shoving a fresh clip into his Plasma Cutter and giving his suit the once over. He pushed the encounter out of his mind, knowing he couldn't get distracted as he walked towards the opposite door to the one he had came through, arms straight and ready to fire. He'd have to suffer until the day his heart stopped beating – which, depending on the locals, could have been very soon.
Isaac found himself almost hoping it would.