"Fight or flight?" [i]Timothy quizzically whispered to himself as he scrambled to gather weapons and munitions. Leaving the ship meant certain death. Staying inside guaranteed a firefight, one in which the odds were certainly not in his favor. He hopped to the life support systems and looked for any sort of breathing mask or apparatus he could use to safely exit the vessel. The necrons were drawing near, but he found a rebreather. Not a permanent solution, but one that will last him an hour or two.[/i] "Flight it is." [i]Timothy armed himself with the newly acquired rebreather mask, a pair of silenced pistols, a few cans of VX and tear gas, and his muzzled rifle. He zipped up his suit to ensure no skin showed and prayed to a god he didn't believe in before exiting the armory. [/i]