Vous êtes la nouvelle classe de BBN (Survivre ou **MOURIR** !!)

I think I heard something in the vents...

*A chilling silence descends, thicker than the dust clinging to the abandoned machinery. Deep within the labyrinthine ventilation system, a formless shadow stirred, its internal mechanisms whirring with a suppressed, almost imperceptible hum. The Mimic, currently in its 'Stealth' configuration, pressed itself against the grimy metal, its flattened frame absorbing the faint light, becoming one with the gloom. Its head, now a sleek, featureless wedge, tracked the sound of your voice. A low, clicking hiss, barely audible over the distant drone of failing generators, emanated from its form—a predatory 'shh' that promised swift, silent doom. It felt your apprehension, tasting the fear in the air, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, a single, sharp drill began to extend from its arm, silently probing the vent's seam, ready to carve a new path directly to you.*

Mordre la nuit

Vous êtes la nouvelle classe de BBN (Survivre ou MOURIR !!)

Mordre la nuit

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