[ He's got one foot on the stairs when the knocks come. He shouldn't be able to hear it as clearly as he does, he knows that - the insulation, the sheer density in the masonry surrounding him. It shouldn't be possible, and yet he can practically feel it reverberating through the wood beneath his shoe.
Suddenly, ghost doesn't seem so far-fetched.
He should've been moving during those seconds, he realizes in hindsight. Could've taken them and been right behind Mace by the time they burst through, but his knees had locked and he'd frozen in place trying to comprehend the surreality of it.
It's that son of a bitch that snaps him back into frantic action, knife in hand, left hand on banister, only just enough presence of mind to skip his own stair rather than fall through it.
When he makes it to the top, he falters again for just one second.
It's on his lips, it's in his breath, it's louder than he would've ever intended but it's completely beyond a conscious choice: ]
What the fuck--
[ They don't have eyes. Three o'clock doc does not spin so much as kindly and politely turn around toward him, head tipping in either acknowledgement or scrutiny. Kind of hard to tell when they don't have fucking eyes. In either case, it peels away from the group and toward Ian's direction.
Words fall out of his mouth so quick and so loud they might take a little longer to decipher. ]
Backup, backup, backup-
[ Directed at Mace, because of the net. Can't be under it when it drops, and he wants to drop it now. ]
no subject
Suddenly, ghost doesn't seem so far-fetched.
He should've been moving during those seconds, he realizes in hindsight. Could've taken them and been right behind Mace by the time they burst through, but his knees had locked and he'd frozen in place trying to comprehend the surreality of it.
It's that son of a bitch that snaps him back into frantic action, knife in hand, left hand on banister, only just enough presence of mind to skip his own stair rather than fall through it.
When he makes it to the top, he falters again for just one second.
It's on his lips, it's in his breath, it's louder than he would've ever intended but it's completely beyond a conscious choice: ]
What the fuck--
[ They don't have eyes. Three o'clock doc does not spin so much as kindly and politely turn around toward him, head tipping in either acknowledgement or scrutiny. Kind of hard to tell when they don't have fucking eyes. In either case, it peels away from the group and toward Ian's direction.
Words fall out of his mouth so quick and so loud they might take a little longer to decipher. ]
Backup, backup, backup-
[ Directed at Mace, because of the net. Can't be under it when it drops, and he wants to drop it now. ]