The thrum of the metal rang through the air even after I came to a stop. I’d reached my target; a reinforced door, identical to so many others in the complex. With the labyrinthine mess of metal walkways and the dozens of doors, I might have missed it. The only thing telling me I was in the right place was the smudge of ash left behind from when the soldier had put out his cigarette on the wall.
Hm, did we see that?
See, this is why you don’t put out cigarettes against walls, dammit. Coil tried to wipe the smudge away and it’s still visible enough to be used to identify the door next to it at a glance weeks later.
That and it’s just a plain gross thing to do whether it’s visible or not. Just… fuck smoking in general, honestly.
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