The moment they moved, Jelo did two things instinctively.
First, he kept his back near a wall, pressing himself against the cold metal surface of a large lab fixture so he couldn't be grabbed from behind. The last thing he needed was one of these things wrapping its twisted hands around his neck while he was focused on the others.
Being surrounded would be a death sentence, and Jelo had no intention of dying here, not in this bunker, not at the hands of some mad scientist's experiments.
Second, he started circling, moving laterally along the wall and forcing the monsters to move around obstacles instead of charging straight at him. Lab tables, equipment racks, storage containers—all of it became part of his defense.
He kept moving, never staying in one spot for more than a second, making them chase him through the cluttered space. Every step was calculated, every movement deliberate. He wasn't just running. He was controlling the battlefield.
