The Unnatural Disasters

1, p2. All the reasons not to trust strange women: Pixel

My name is Em Mwesigwa. I'm currently male. And right now?
Honestly, I don't know what the hell is going on. There's a random woman in my house, potential death from an unknown threat...
Plus, there's a history assignment due tomorrow that I've barely started.
"What?" I grin. "Are the aliens attacking the White House already?"
I should probably feel bad about teasing the woman- Luda, apparently- while she looks like she's about to have a panic attack. And yet: by the time I've looked back at her, she's already slipped back into a mask of kind calmness.
Of course. She's one of those people. The ones who are always exhaustedly calm on the out, the ones who are constantly trying to hide the fact that their internal monologue consists of nothing but angry screeching.
Honestly, I should have known.
"Take my hand," She states- ignoring my question, of course.
"Why?"
"Take my hand. Please."
She really wants me to hold her hand, doesn't she?
I consider my options. I could just leave. Do nothing. Outright refuse her offer. And if I don't?
I don't think I get to turn back from that.

I study her hand.
What the hell. I need a hobby.

I take it. Blink for a moment. Find myself in an entirely different place.

"What the-'' I exclaim; but Luda's gone, as quick as we arrived. She appears to have left me somewhere that looks remarkably like the staff room of my old primary school. Seriously! The resemblance is uncanny.

Blue spotted carpet, flattened and ground down with time; cheap white cabinets with flaking paint; maroon painted door to my right and an old leather sofa, complete with small TV, forgotten in the corner.
There is a difference, though. My school's staff room never had a giant, angry, robotic spider trying to smash up the interior design in it.
As far as I know, of course.

"As if my life isn't enough like a B movie already," I mutter aloud. "What's next? The busty woman in an inaccurate spacesuit?"
Somebody laughs: this is the first point that I notice the floating fire extinguisher trying to hit robospider. Said spider, by the way, isn't being a gracious host- it hasn't spent a second glance on either me or magic extinguisher, which I should probably be thankful for.
"Who said that?" I ask, stumbling back towards one cream-painted wall.
"The magic fire extinguisher, obviously."
The voice is male with what sounds like an Irish accent. I spot a pair of glasses floating in the air by the extinguisher; blue and rimless, at the height at which glasses usually go. Well! That's not something you see every day.
"Well, I'm sorry if invisible guy holding a fire extinguisher wasn't my first idea."
I'm probably being pretty useless here: I doubt that whoever owns this place likes it being spidered up. But what am I supposed to do? Pick locks at it?
"It's cool," says Invisible Glasses Man. "Get it all the time, honestly. Name's Charley, by the way."
"Pixel."
'Pixel' is my go to handle for account names and videogames. I don't know why I didn't just go with my actual name; guess this entire thing feels like a videogame, really, between the dumb outfit and the monster that's... 
not actually attacked me yet?
The spider turns round. Red eyes spot me.
Ah! Spoke too soon.

The spider comes barrelling towards me, at a pace I feel shouldn't be possible for something the size of your average family car.
It's going to hit me, I think. It's going to hit me, and either kill me or injure me badly enough that I have to explain the situation to Dad, and honestly? I'd prefer dying. Charley is doing his best to fight the thing, with nothing but extinguisher foam. But- as I have mentioned- our dear enemy Robospider is pretty damn huge, so it's about as effective as using a pencil against a lion. Wait- I wonder...

I back up against the wall. What does this thing have against me, anyway? What did I do?
These are good questions that should probably be discussed at a time when I am not in danger of death-by-arachnid.
Plan. Plan. Plan. Wall. Think. Plan. Need a plan. Have a plan?
Have a plan.
The spider appears to grin. I know, it's impossible; this thing must have barely enough of anything to understand more than 'smash thing now'. But in the light, in my confusion, in the weirdness of all that's going on, the spider's scratched metal looks like a twisted, twisted smile.

But I look the demon in the eyes and mirror its horrid grin.
Wait. Wait. Continue to time.
Its face is far, far too close.
Wait. Wait.

Jump.

I crash to the side, shoulder slamming onto the surprisingly hard floor below me. Robospider doesn't notice this.
It slams its way into the brick wall I'd been just moments before: without the agility or intelligence to turn around at the last second, it's trapped itself in a mound of rubble and earth.

I am, of course, extremely lucky. If the wall had been an indoor one, if it were plaster, if we weren't underground...
Oh! We're underground. That's convenient.
Okay, so I didn't notice that. But I judged from the layout that this was an outer wall- I was just going to run it into another room, preferably one whereI had a chance of not dying. When I was backed up to it, I'd noticed the wall was solid, but...
Well, I did not believe it'd work this great.

Good ol' Robospider appears to be dead now: any components in there seem to be crushed by tonnes of soil and presumably also some very confused worms. I get up off the floor, dusting myself off.
Fun fact: if you deliberately drive the robot trying to kill you into a brick wall, it gets messy.  Don't try this at home, kids! There's debris- brick, plaster and soil- everywhere.
I look up at Charley, whose expression I cannot read for obvious reasons.
"Sorry," I mutter, looking round at the rubble.

I hear something. It sounds like- well.
It sounds like Wonderwall being played on a wind instrument, accompanied by occasional screaming between notes.
Sounds weird, doesn't it?
But I'm on an adrenaline high.
So I nod goodbye to Charley, and, open the door to whatever's next.