[Durability/Falling]

gistfile1.txt

But then I guess the spore
remembers: It eats backbones like
me for lunch. And if we’re a little
too tough to chew, it spits us out.
Something throws me against the
wall. I rattle around on the floor
for a moment like a pebble in a
pickup; then the spire opens its
throat and shoots me halfway to
the goddamn jet stream. Suddenly
my guts are in my boots; all I see is
orange streaks and dark blurs. And
then I’m out, the human spitball,
shot into the sky like a watermelon
seed. I hang there in midair for a
moment, a tabletop Manhattan
turning on all sides, God’s own
middle finger jabbing up at me
from a dark gray pit dead below.
Then I’m coming back to earth and
one hard fucking landing. I land
back on the spire ass-first and off-
center, like dropping onto a freefall
waterslide. I roll, bounce off
into space again, grab some bit of
alien corkscrew plumbing my body
somehow knew was there even
though my brain didn’t see it. I
hang on for dear life: bait on a
hook, thirty stories up. One
precious handhold away from
street pizza.

Crysis: Legion, HIVE