[i][b]Guts - Umbrella Siberian Research Facility[/b][/i]

The air seemed to crackle and distort, as lightning flew from a distorted space. With a gust of salty air, a skeleton appeared. Flesh wrapped around the bones as fiber and metal weaved itself into an identifiable shape to cover the being, foremost being an immense slab of sharp iron that could barely be called a sword. With a gasp, his working eye grew bright, and the black swordsman filled with life, looking around at his surroundings.
Guts found himself in an odd building, one of metal corridors and strange lights. The materials of the walls were odd. They appeared to be some smooth metal, not the stone and wood one might expect. A faint, dull pop pop pop was barely audible above his head. Behind him was a shuffling noise, and soft footsteps. Guts turned around, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. An undead approached, its rotting flesh giving a pungent stench as it hung off the bones. Guts swung the Dragonslayer overhead and down, its gargantuan mass cleaving through the zombie with no trouble. The sword left a large gash mark in the ceiling above him; it was no wonder the slash felt slower than normal. Looking to the sides, Guts observed that the hallway would be too narrow to even make a horizontal slash. On the other hand, it would funnel enemies nicely. Guts pulled out his repeater bow, and mounted it on his metallic arm, loading a clip of bolts. "I can't tell from here if it's night. This might be an Apostle." he said to himself, walking down the hallway.

At least he wasn't stuck on a damned boat anymore.