[center][h1][color=red]Brian "Short-Fuse" Muller[/color][/h1][/center]

Oh what joy Short-Fuse was feeling as he was accending those stairs was hard to explain. It was like the immense excitement a dog would feels whenever someone opened a door, eagerly awaiting whatever good stuff their man master was going to do to them. Whatever that 'good thing' could possibly be, only the Texan himself knew. Perhaps. He wasn't a very rational man, but somehow he'd survived so long in that wasteland so it couldn't be too bad, right? Or he was just really, really lucky. Short-Fuse was quite the ways up the stairs when he would have wanted to turn and taunt those sorry losers behind him, but something else ganked him first. 

He couldn't breath as Khaliya grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards with that superhuman strenght of the power armour. And oh boy, was the janking and not-breathing part painfull. Short-Fused was about to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, with all that tossing and turning going on, but that was when the sound of Doom itself reached his explosion-damaged ears. All he could whisper under his breath, which was slowly coming back to him and therefor making no sound, was [color=red]"...Holy Hell..."[/color]

It was an abomination like he'd never seen before, and good God was it ugly! And Short-Fuse had seen some ugly mothers out there, both radioactive and just plain ol' ugly. This thing was the works of nightmares, which certainly didn't sit well with a man who'd had his brain shaken too many times already. As it passed him and Khaliya, the only thing that ran through his mind besides the various bits and pieces of conversations over the radio about the buggers, was how much explosives did he need to seal those critters down in the metro for good?