"Shit." Wires or monster- whichever prompts it is left alone as York keeps a solid eye on the almost luminescent purity of that white mask as he struggles to yank his arm free. This is not like the shapeless, shadowy things that had been chasing him. This is-

Something.

Someone?

The mask seems distantly familiar but he can't recall from where, all of him focused on leaning away from the wall without losing sight of that singular clean point in a massive fleshy hallway.