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[ataraxites]

[ The transmission begins in the middle of a ringing, ear-splitting screech of torn metal, and for a few heartbeats there's nothing but the echo of it. As it fades, muffled sounds can be heard — clipped shrieks and boots scrabbling, interrupted by harsh seconds of static noise — and then all at once is a burst of breath so loud as to distort the sound. ] —tting closer. I don't w—t to hurt anyone. You heard the —tain. They think there's— people aren't who they say they are. Th— won't listen, I've tried, they just look at me as th— [ There's a burst of heavy static. When the sound clears enough to be discernible again, his voice is further hushed, a panicked, frantic whisper delivered too close to the microphone. ] You have to —nd someone. There has to be someone left that [ . . . ] —damn minds. Pl—e, you have to come— help us. We're just —ers, we're not— [ A few seconds of low static buzz. The transmission ceases. ]