Rando swore outright, about to pray that he'd misheard something. Rather, his first reaction was to open the door to the stairs. The lights blazed on and nothing, he wasn't dead. He walked down the steps, counting them. Fifteen from head to foot, still alive. The space was empty, wall to wall blank. Rando turned back toward the staircase, which was when he noticed the door.
Hand on the control he cautiously keyed the door. It slid open, his skin hadn't melted off yet. The space within was a number of shelves, with a few scattered clay jars. Magnificent hand crafted pieces. A similar design was rendered to each, an insect of some kind coupled by a location. A park, a garden, a city for example.
The stench of his work became the forebearer of his appearance, Flying W had descended the stairs as well.
"Quaint, are they empty?" W snatched one, reaching over Rando's shoulder.
His examination covered the contents, dried out husks of what once had been animals. Flying W made no move to touch or remove them.
"It's too bad he left these here, such a horrid locale. Hutts..." With that he replaced the cover of the jar and set it on the ground.
Rando moved out of the way, the other man removing the other five jars. Then the shelves and finally he stepped into the closet and closed the door. He returned in a couple of minutes thereabouts, ecstatic.
"What's so exciting about a closet?"
"What's so exciting about death at the hands of the other crazies looking for medical treatment?"
The front door was blown open. Someone else had a few choice words on the state of the kitchen. Flying W had left the drained corpses where he'd cut them. A keen distraction, who knew if the cause of the gore was still around after all.
Rando was about to throw himself into the small cramped space when a hand stopped him.
"Take the cover off every jar, space them six inches apart, and then immediately run through this door. Do not look back or stop."
Flying W disappeared, Rando did as he was told. With that he flung that door open, the first step in had been a hole in the floor. He passed six rungs of a metal ladder on the way down. But he'd managed to close the door.
"Where are we?" Rando rubbed his bruised head.
"I'd say a rudimentary sewage system beneath the battledome. Or a very good facade. Sounds like fun doesn't it?" Did this place smell worse than the corpses? His nose felt like it had shut-down completely.
Above, the party in search of the med facilities had finished their sweep of the rest of the house. The basement was all that was left.
Four of them strode down, taking no effort to hide their entrance. Survival at this point was all that was left, thought had been ruled out. A woman among them clenched the stub where he arm had been, wrapped in a used under shirt she'd already stained the lot of it red.
"Cleo! C'mon, just one more step and I'm sure it'll be here! C'mon, one more ste-" Her companion fell silent, eyes darting from one side of the blank room to the other. Then to the floor.
His last thought was of an evening on Raxus Prime, so long ago before the pain removed any chance of even that.
Cleo screamed, but there was nothing to do. The three behind her were too confused to make a retreat, she wasn't in the usual condition to beat them around to escape. They were trapped on the stairs, until the next fellow stepped off from the foot to investigate.
The once stoic basement was alive with the chittering of new life. Thousands of insectoid legs began to reach up and over the edge of their jars. Having been in contact with the moisture in the air, they'd been given new life. Escaping their purposefully dried shells.
And they were hungry. Working as a single entity they struck, with barely a minute passed they'd already begun to drag them down and off the stairs.
"We'll be safe so long as we stay in an environment with more or less moisture in the air than where they hatched. So, unless Gerba manages to completely alter the environment within the battledome, I'd say we're alright." Flying W was ahead, walking down the muck spread track running on the edge of the pipe.
They stopped at another ladder, Flying W began to ascend.
"If I'm right, we'll come out on the main street in the middle of the new found mob."
Rando ascended first, poking his head out right where he didn't need to be. The bacta tank. With Flying W pushing him to continue he was caught between.
Something bit him and stayed there.