[h3][color=red]CHARLIE KAYDEN[/color][/h3]
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[color=orangered][i]Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - twenty, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter soon.[/i][/color]

“God damn it!”

That was all Charlie had to say in response to the alert coming on over the public service comms. She had other, more pressing matters that she was currently preoccupied with - for instance, the hulking, pissed off, gorilla-like alien creature chasing her through the jungle.

Four yellow eyes, crimson skin, a rocky hide, and a pair of short, well-worn horns. Research teams had a scientific name for them that Charlie could not for the life of her remember, but in place of any dumb nerd shit, the local mercs called them ‘thrashers’. Because they liked to thrash things. And it would be unwise to expect any better naming conventions from a community of violent, gun toting meatheads.

Charlie led the thrasher past the winding trees, over the rocks and short drops. If there weren’t so many obstructions in the way, the beast might very well have caught up to her by now. Smaller creatures were running scared from the chase as the thrasher shoved tree after tree aside, grunting and roaring in anger with every obstacle it forced its way through.

Charlie’s helmet pinged the location of a nearby prefab shelter. Number twelve, out of the many dotted around the Hollow Moon. That was her destination. Shelters had automated turrets posted around them - most did, at least. They’d take care of the thrasher.

She jumped down another short cliff, scrambling back on her feet as the thrasher leapt downward after her. The trees became fewer and thinner as they neared the clearing that shelter twelve lied in. Charlie could see the blocky, grey, modular exterior of the building, the big 12 emblazoned on the side, and the turrets surrounding it, scanning the area, ready to shoot anything that wasn’t the least bit human. As Charlie broke out into the clearing, the thrasher wasn't far behind, barreling towards her as she made a mad dash towards the shelter.

She sprinted past the detection line, and as the thrasher did the same, two of the turrets turned and locked onto the beast. Its pursuit was immediately halted by a hail of concussive gunfire, not designed to kill, but merely chase off with excessive force. The rounds careened off of the thrasher’s rock hide, chipping it some, but the ones hitting its face and belly caused it to rear back and fall over, onto its side.

Charlie watched, and smiled, and in that moment, seized the opportunity. She took her rifle - a jury-rigged mess of a thing - and aimed at the thrasher’s head. One well placed slug, and the thrasher’s left horn came off near its base. It tumbled back, standing itself back up and away from the turrets, which stopped firing once it left the detection range. It stood up on its legs to gain height, looked at Charlie, and roared ferociously. All the merc could do in response was smile and flip the beast her middle finger.

The roar was, however, interrupted by an even louder noise. A cacophonous [i]boom[/i], sounding from up above them. The thrasher didn’t think twice - it gave up its bravado and turned away, retreating into the jungle to find somewhere safe to hide. Charlie went and grabbed the horn she’d shot off, then looked up at the core of the Hollow Moon. It was covered in swelling blue clouds, flashes of light dancing inside, ready to burst in-

[color=orangered][i]Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - fifteen, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter immediately.[/i][/color]

That long.

Charlie put away the thrasher’s horn in her pack, then brought up her ship’s location on her helmet’s HUD. Just a little under six miles away, parked near another shelter altogether.

“Shit…”

She’d gotten pretty sidetracked.

Charlie wasn’t about to make a mad jog back to her ship and risk cutting it so close with the storm, and the autonav module wasn't exactly in working order either. So she elected to hunker down for a spell, and turned and entered through the shelter’s automatic door.

[i]“Entry logged at shelter - twelve.”[/i]

She looked around the gray, blank interior with random couches, seats, and tables strewn about. No one else was present. Seemed to be she was the first one in. Normally she saw at least a handful of folks in most of these shelters, sitting around, drinking, playing cards, swapping stories. Not this time, oddly.

“Oh, well.”

There were about fourteen minutes left before the storm hit. Charlie stepped towards one of the couches and placed her pack on top of it, set her rifle aside, and removed her helmet. She shook her head and brushed her hair to the side with her hand, dropping her helmet onto the couch. She gave a look over to a music player on a table near the other side of the shelter, went over to it, and turned it on to a [i]blasting[/i] wave of heavy metal. She jumped a bit before putting her finger on the volume and bringing it down to a level that wouldn’t give her tinnitus.

“Fuckin’ A…”

She went back over to where all her stuff was and plopped down for a seat, relaxing with the music - odd combination though it may be - and looked out the window. The shutters would go down before the storm hit, and the whole thing would close up tight. So she’d wait and see if anyone else came about little ol’ shelter twelve before then.

Just a little under thirteen minutes left.