urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:domyshare I see my red door and it's heading into black Zero 2008-07-21T18:59:45Z urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:domyshare:1646 2008-07-21T18:59:45Z 2008-07-21T18:59:45Z Zero sat at the center of his cell, tin arm plate in his hands, idly flexing the armor over and over at the elbow joint. It <span style="font-style: italic">squeaked</span> now. Not the typical noise of basic movement of the piece, either, but the clear, unmistakable sounds of metal that just hasn’t been properly tended to.<br /><br />The mostly quiet prison probably just made it sound a lot worse than it actually was, but it didn’t matter; it shouldn’t have been there at all. No self-respecting Longcoat <span style="font-style: italic">squeaked</span>… (Except they did. A lot. Metal. Leather. The uniform wasn’t designed with stealth in mind. Intimidation over function.)<br /><span style="font-style: italic"><br />Squeak, squeak, squeeeeaaak</span><br /><br />He doubted any of those IPD idiots kept oil cans on their person. He wasn't even sure if they all had <span style="font-style: italic">guns</span>. urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:domyshare:1247 2008-04-30T14:40:09Z 2008-04-30T14:40:09Z Hate mail goes here.