Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It Doesn't Matter What Your Crime Was

The deep mechanical rumble of the submarine springing to life drowned out the conversation you weren't paying attention to. Harsh fluorescent lighting made everyone look sickly, washing out any colour and personality you had. Which, after prison wasn’t much anymore. The other three members of the four person crew eagerly conversed about what they'd do when they got out, their voices filling the cramped space and your head. You didn't dislike them; they were nice enough people, for a bunch of criminals; you were just afraid.

You hadn't been not afraid since the moment you were sentenced. You had served six months in a maximum security women's prison out of your twenty-five year life sentence.  It was a harrowing experience you never thought you'd ever have to go through. The food and the showers coming to mind as particularly nightmarish.  But you'd earned it, hadn't you?  It was random chance that a company you had never heard about from a foreign country came looking for volunteers to perform some kind of mission.  The prize for success?  Freedom.  Criminal record expunged.  It sounded too good to be true, but what could you lose?

Now you are here. Somewhere off the Norwegian coast in a submarine with three other people, headed towards a hidden underwater testing facility that nobody knows about. The cold was something you were used to, and you stifled a laugh at the Floridian who couldn’t handle it. It sounded like the dumbest novel premise you could imagine; alas, it was reality. Your reality.

"Oi, Holly?" A female voice pulled you back to the present. You looked up at the short brunette sitting across from you on the metal bench, her boots tapping against the floor. She looked like any normal college student, chestnut hair cut in a cute bob. You noticed tiny holes and marks on her face and ears, ghosts of piercings she probably had to remove in prison. "What did you do to get here?" The girl grinned at you expectantly, her accent sounded like the people you’d met in Bristol on your summer vacation a few years back. This was a united nations of criminals in this submarine.

You pondered for a moment, fidgeting with your sleeves, coming up with a suitable lie. "Insider trading," the most boring white-collar crime you could think of.

The girl wrinkled her nose, she was smarter than you thought, unfortunate. "I know that's a lie. You wouldn't be in maxi for that, those people have enough money to stay out of prison."

A pale man next to her chuckled, his nicotine stained fingers drumming on his knee. "Some people like keepin' secrets, can't fault her for that." In response, the girl folded her arms across her chest.

A tall black man sitting next to you cleared his throat, his massive frame making the bench creak. "We have to be a team and respect each other." It was hard not to pay attention to him. His case was very famous as a blatant miscarriage of justice. Big Mike, ex-Navy SEAL framed for killing his wife, sentenced to life by a presumably racist judge. A long scar ran from his left temple to his jaw, he called it a memory from Afghanistan. It comforted you that a professional was on your team.

"Aye aye, Big Mike," the scrawny white guy chimed in, scratching at the track marks that dotted his inner arms. He was called Dan, and he had a biblical amount of meth on him at the time of his arrest. He probably supplied meth for the entire state of Florida. The DEA probably got extra funding after catching him. He was an entire decade younger than you but looked at least a decade older.

That left the girl you had so unceremoniously lied to. All you knew about her was that her name was Lacey and she used to steal cars in the UK. Her and a bunch of kids in their late teens stealing cars and chopping them for parts, leaving nothing but broken glass behind. It wasn't lost on you that Mike was the only one here actually innocent of a crime. It seemed cruel to saddle him with a bunch of terrible people.

"Mike, why'd you agree to this? Last I heard you were going to appeal," you said, turning to look questioningly at him. The submarine lurched slightly, making your stomach turn. The news had spoken of appeals and human rights violations. He had a good case against the verdict. Or so said his attorneys to the media.

"This should be an easy operation," he smiled confidently. Sweat beaded on his shaved head under the harsh lights. "I've been through so much worse than what was described in the briefing."  You don't remember reading a briefing, or being told any finer details.

His confidence made you feel hope, even as the walls seemed to close in around you. The constant hum of machinery and recycled air made everything feel surreal. Just a few days ago you were in your cell making candy out of juice crystals and water and now you were deep in the ocean where no light could reach.

"Tell us what to do, army man," Dan seemed starstruck, his leg bouncing frantically against the metal floor. Perhaps he idolized military personnel?

"Navy, but thank you for the trust," Mike laughed, giving Dan a high-five.

"This is gonna be so shitty, innit?" Lacey had a tendency to whine about everything in the short time you knew her. She kept adjusting her jumpsuit zipper, pulling it up and down nervously. "Do we know anything about this company? Urbanshade?" The name alone sent a chill down your spine, though you couldn't explain why.

"Weapons manufacturing," Mike answered, "They allegedly had a contract with the DOD in the sixties, made some consumer pharma in the eighties."

The submarine creaked ominously as it descended deeper into the dark waters. The pressure gauge on the wall kept ticking higher, and you wondered just how far down this facility was. The thought made your chest tight, were people able to go this deep?  Would the submarine explode killing you all before you got there?  Didn't that happen once to someone?

The taste of recycled air was metallic on your tongue, and the constant drip of condensation from somewhere behind you marked time like a broken metronome. You all sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment until the voice of an AI startled you.

"Now Arriving. Please stand back from the hatch," a computerized voice echoed through the cramped space as the submarine rumbled, breaching what felt like a pocket of air in the dark ocean. The hatch opened with a hiss, revealing a sight that looked eerily familiar to the loading bay you had left from. At least it was aesthetically consistent. Urbanshade truly had a brand it stuck to.

Mike was the first to disembark the submarine, his movements fluid despite his size. His boots made hollow metallic sounds against the steel walkway as he surveyed the surroundings, you figured it must have been as natural as breathing. Only when he was satisfied did he motion for the rest of you to follow. Dan scrambled after him like an eager puppy, his nervous energy making him nearly trip over his own feet. Your steps careful after his clumsy show, while Lacey brought up the rear.

"Alright team, our objective is simple," Mike's voice took on a commanding tone as he stood tall, hands clasped behind his back in military posture. The overhead lights flickered. "We make our way through this facility and collect some sort of crystal important to Urbanshade. On the way to our primary objective, we have been tasked with collecting as much classified information as possible." His voice boomed through the spacious docking bay, echoing off the sterile walls and making you feel, just for a moment, like you were actually part of a sophisticated team of professionals rather than a hastily assembled crew of criminals and one innocent man. The distinction was important to you for some reason.

The weight of the task ahead settled over the group like a heavy blanket of silence. Somewhere in this labyrinth of steel and concrete, something valuable enough to offer freedom was kept. You just had to survive long enough to find it.

"Why didn't they give us any shit to work with?" Lacey asked what you considered a very important question. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut; you were sent down here with essentially nothing. Not even a flashlight or provisions. Now that you were actually here, it seemed beyond insane. Almost deliberate.

"We will have to scavenge," Mike replied with military pragmatism, already moving with purpose around the docks. Methodically opening drawers and cabinets, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoing through the chamber.

"I'm great at that," Dan chimed in, his face lighting up with an almost childlike enthusiasm. He followed Mike's lead, though his search was more frantic, less organized, papers flying as he rummaged through desk after desk.

"I'm gonna be so pissed if this is some suicide shit," Lacey rolled her eyes, boots squeaking against the floor as she walked towards a door with a keypad. She hastily pressed random buttons, each unsuccessful attempt punctuated by an angry beep that made you wince. "Look for a password or something," she yelled towards the men rifling through yet more desks, her voice bouncing off the walls with a nonchalance you wish you could find in yourself.

You stood there, frozen, watching your teammates scatter like ants. The submarine that brought you here had sunk back into the depths during Mike’s military-esque briefing. Quietly slipping away without anyone noticing. You were now alone, cut off from the outside world. If someone got hurt they were shit out of luck.

Finally, you forced yourself to move, to be useful. The desk nearest to you yielded a handful of USB flash drives. In a drawer, partially hidden under a stack of manila folders, you found something that made you do a double-take, an old cassette tape, its label bearing the word CLASSIFIED in large red letters. You hadn’t seen one of these since the nineties. You think you remember your first tape you bought with your own money was Britney Spears' "Oops I Did It Again". You had done so many chores around the house for it and it was all the sweeter when you had it in your hands.

These small items felt significant; they had to be part of the classified data you were meant to collect. You tucked them carefully into the small waterproof pocket of your wetsuit, the bulk of them pressing against your hip. As you squeezed yourself between some storage boxes and the wall, your wetsuit scraping against the rough concrete wall, you spotted something promising; a blue keycard lying forgotten on a desk, partially obscured by shadow. Your heart quickened as you reached for it. This had to be the answer to Lacey’s keypad problem.

You moved quietly across the docking bay, your footsteps deliberately soft against the metal floor. Lacey had devolved into what looked like a personal vendetta against the keypad, her fist connecting with it in frustrated punches. Each impact made you wince, imagining the delicate electronics inside being rattled loose.

"I found a keycard," you said softly, your voice barely carrying over the sound of British rage. The words snapped her out of it like a spell being broken, her fist froze mid-swing.

"Hell yeah!" she exclaimed, her mood shifting instantly from fury to excitement. She snatched the keycard from your hands. The card made a satisfying click as she tapped it against the keypad, and after so many angry red denials, the light finally blinked green.

Mike and Dan's footsteps echoed behind you as they joined you at the threshold, drawn by the sound of success.

Mike moved through the doorway with caution. You found yourself grateful for his military bearing, at least someone here seemed to know what they were doing. The relief of his consistency was a small comfort in this bizarre environment. The trio of you waited outside the door for the all clear, once he waved you all filtered through into the new space.

The rooms beyond the door defied any logical architectural sense. Desks stood at odd angles, some pressed against walls in ways that made their drawers inaccessible. Lockers lined the walls seemingly at random, some completely knocked over, others bolted firmly in place. It looked less like an actual office space and more like someone explained to an alien what an office was and they recreated it poorly.

You continued your scavenging, methodically checking drawers and cabinets. More USB drives found their way into your pocket, which was now bulging noticeably. You'd made a game for yourself if you find fifty you win. What did you win? The satisfaction of finding fifty whole flash drives.

The further you ventured, the more unsettling the environment became. Room after room the sounds of the deep ocean penetrated the walls: groaning metal, the distant echo of water pressure, and occasional deep, resonant noises that you hoped were just the building settling. Burst pipes created constant waterfalls in corners that you contemplated drinking from. You decided against it as you couldn’t possibly know if it was clean or not. It could be raw sewage or salt water.

Sections of wall had given way to reveal the structure's bones of twisted metal and crumbling concrete that somehow still held back the crushing weight of the ocean. Your high school physics classes screamed that this was impossible, that once water started leaking in, the whole place should have crumpled like a tin can, you think, you were admittedly never any good at physics. You were more of a biology girl. Still, the fact that the building still stood added another layer of wrongness to the entire situation.

Dan's nervous chatter had died down to occasional whispers, and even Lacey's usual sharp comments had become subdued. The impossibility of the place seemed to be weighing on everyone, creating a thick tension that made every sound, every shadow, feel like a potential threat.

The flickering started subtly at first, a gentle rhythm that might have been beautiful if it wasn't so wrong. The lights flickered in a way that reminded you of when a moth got too close, wings obscuring the light. The lovely chime sound dying down quickly as a deep, resonant tone that started in your bones and grew until it filled the air around you took its place. It sounded like you were on the tracks of the subway, the roaring train closing in on you. A sound of fast screaming steel on its way to you.

Your body moved before your mind could process what was happening, the ‘flight’ reaction taking over as adrenaline pumped through your veins. The darkness that followed wasn't the simple absence of light. It was something alive, something hungry. The sound of running feet echoed off the walls, punctuated by panicked breathing and the skittering of glass under boots.

The first crunch of bone behind you was unmistakable; a sound you'd heard many a time before during the long nights at the hospital emergency room you worked at. It was so much worse and more wrong when it wasn’t in a hospital setting. You could fix the crunch at the hospital. Here you were powerless.
Dan's scream cut through the roaring darkness, a high-pitched sound of pure terror that transformed into a wet gurgling. You knew it was the sound of dying. The sound of lungs being filled with blood, the sound of struggling to breathe moments before death claimed him. The floor splattered in viscera as the creature roared through the hall on its hungry rampage.

Mike, ever the protector, held Lacey and hid behind a desk. His massive frame suddenly seemed small against the thing that emerged from the darkness. You were faster than both of them, continuing to run with the knowledge you couldn’t do anything for them. You looked back for a second, hoping beyond hope that perhaps Lacey got away. You were met with a close up view of what had been chasing you. The closest thing your mind could compare it to was an angler fish, but significantly larger. It was massive in a way you could hardly comprehend.

Lacey's scream joined the cacophony of horror, cut short as she and Mike disappeared into that maw of endless teeth. You had time to register the wrongness of its face, too many teeth and too many eyes to even be something real, before the pain hit. The teeth found your midsection with terrible precision, and you felt the pressure build as they sank deeper. You were being torn apart, the sensation of ripping flesh forced screams from your throat. Your intestines burst from the jagged incision burning in the air they were never meant to feel. Thankfully shock was setting in, sparing you the worst of it as blood filled your throat.

As consciousness faded, you had one final, absurd thought: all those USB drives, all that classified data, would be digested along with you in the belly of this impossible creature.

Nobody would recover you.

-

It was unexpected when you awoke, sitting in an office chair opposite a desk, in complete darkness. You couldn't move, your muscles frozen in place. The sensation was terrifying, just moments ago you had felt teeth tearing through your flesh, had watched your teammates die horrifically, and now this strange paralysis in an unknown space.

"Oh.
Hello.
You died.
Whaaat a shame.
We haven't met before,
but hopefully you'll be able to stay alive long enough next time for me to give a proper introduction.
Since those
iiidiots
up there didn't feel like telling you about which exact dangers you'd face down here,
I've been asked to fill that role.
Whenever you die, you'll be brought here,
and I'll show you a document detailing what caused your
oh
so
early
demise.
He was very specific with...
how much, information I could share with you though.
It's stupid,
I know,
his orders, not mine.
All the documents are heavily classified,
lots of black lines,
[REDACTED] text,
whole nine yards.
The more times you die to something,
the more black lines he lets me remove.
Alright.
Let me find what caused your...
Ahhh.
Here we go."

You stared blankly into another angler fish lure, not by choice, but because your frozen muscles gave no other option. Three blue eyes glowed in the darkness before you, they were both beautiful and terrible, like bioluminescent stars.

The creature’s voice was rough, gravelly, but incredibly human. Its form impossible to make out in the oppressive darkness that swallowed you whole.
A clawed hand slapped a manila folder on the desk in front of you, your eyes barely making out the text along with a picture of the terrible creature that murdered you and your group.

Z-283

After a moment the same clawed hand emerged from the darkness, moving with deliberate purpose as it pulled away the file, you had barely gotten to read it. Not that ypu were able to absorb information right now anyway. The action seemed bureaucratic and mundane, which made it all the more terrifying in contrast to your recent death. Tears wanted to come but couldn't. You wanted to scream, to demand answers about what had happened, about what was happening now, but your voice remained locked away like everything else. The disconnect between this calm, office interaction and the horror you'd just experienced was maddening, and all you could do was sit there, staring into those three glowing blue eyes while your mind raced with unanswered questions.

"Just stay out of sight! It's not that hard." It said, you could sense cruel sarcasm in its voice.

The blackness had swallowed you again.

Chapter Text

You stumbled through the lobby, your mind still reeling from the violent whiplash between death and the dark office. Was that the afterlife? Your hands instinctively went to your midsection, expecting to find the savage tears where teeth had ripped through you, but there was only the smooth fabric of your jumpsuit. The same jumpsuit you'd put on... when? The timeline in your head was fractured, refusing to arrange itself into any logical order. Had you suited up hours ago? Days? The memory of the submarine shuttle dock felt simultaneously recent and impossibly distant.

The lobby buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the ghost-town emptiness of your arrival. Everywhere you looked, prisoners in identical jumpsuits moved with purpose, carrying equipment, engaged in casual conversation. The normality of it all felt obscene after what you'd experienced. A group near you discussed supplies they would order for a dead-drop as if there wasn’t a horrific monstrosity in the deep, waiting to devour anyone it came across. Two women compared notes about creatures you couldn’t even imagine all the while adjusting their gear, their voices carrying the bored tone of routine.

You moved through the crowd like a wounded gazelle, your movements hesitant and jerky, expecting at any moment for the lights to start their deadly song once again. But they remained steady, casting their harsh fluorescent glare over the scene. Were you safe here? Your eyes darted from face to face, searching for recognition, for any sign that someone else understood the horror of what had happened. You looked for Dan, Mike, and Lacey, but they were nowhere to be seen.

The most disturbing part was the complete lack of acknowledgement. Nobody noticed your obvious distress, your wild eyes or your trembling hands. People simply moved around you like a river around a stone. Your presence, or your obvious trauma, didn't even register as noteworthy.

Their conversations carried the weight of experience, of multiple iterations of whatever this was. The realization hit you like a physical blow; they'd been here before. They'd done this before. How many times had they died? How many times will they die?

This was procedure. This was normal.

You barely made it to the trash bin before your body violently rejected everything in your stomach. The acid burn in your throat felt real, horrifically real, just like the death you'd experienced. Your knuckles went white gripping the rim of the bin, your other hand instinctively gathering your blonde hair back. The contrast between this ordinary action and the extraordinary horror you'd just experienced made your head spin, bringing another wave of nausea.
Your shoulders shook with each heave, tears streaming down your face; not just from the physical reaction, but from the overwhelming terror and confusion of it all.

The cool metal of the bin against your palm was an anchor to reality, as your mind struggled to process everything. The memory of those three blue eyes watching you, that human voice speaking while you sat paralyzed, mixed with the fresh memory of sharp teeth and crushing darkness. Another wave of nausea hit you, but your stomach had nothing left to give.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, pushing yourself away from the trash bin on shaky legs. The bustle of the lobby continued around you, but now you had a purpose cutting through the fog of terror and confusion. Dan, Mike, Lacey; they had to be here somewhere. If you'd cheated death, they must have too, right? The alternative was too horrible.

Your feet carried you toward the submarine dock almost automatically, even as your mind screamed against returning to those dark waters. The same waters that had led to your death, to you being devoured. The smell of metal and sea air grew stronger as you approached, mixing unpleasantly with the lingering taste of bile. Groups of people in jumpsuits were preparing subs, going through action plans, as if they hadn't all just died horrible deaths down there. You refused to believe this was just you, that you were in your own personal hell. Something was wrong here and it needed to be wrong for everyone if you were to keep going without losing your mind.

You spotted an unmanned sub, its hatch open and inviting like the maw of some mechanical beast. Your hands trembled as you approached it, remembering how the last dive had ended. But if your teammates were down there, confused and terrified like you... The thought of them experiencing this alone pushed you forward. What was the worst that could happen? Die again? The bitter laugh that escaped your throat at that thought surprised even you.

The sub's interior was identical to the last one. Same controls, same cramped space, same faint smell of recycled air. The AI chirped in recognition, closing the hatch behind you as engines revved up. On the computer pad near a door to what you assumed was the cockpit you saw the navigation spring to life. Was this some kind of drone operated submarine? Why couldn’t they bring drones into the site? Why did this need people?

You glanced out the portholes, watching groups and solo divers load themselves into subs. Were they looking for people too? Were they afraid like you were? You had so many questions and no answers.

This time would be different, you told yourself, not quite believing it. This time you knew what to expect.

"Just stay out of sight! It's not that hard."

You remembered the creature’s words. This would be your new plan. Stay low to the ground and stay hidden. You conjured the image of a cat burglar in your head, stealing every flash drive that you came across. You blamed your anxiety for your fixation, you needed something to latch onto so you didn’t cry.

The AI's voice was sterile and emotionless as it guided the sub through the dark waters. "Maintaining depth at 3,200 meters. All systems nominal." Its calm efficiency felt like a mockery of your frayed nerves. You sat in silence, watching the occasional bioluminescent creature drift past the viewport, each flash of light making your heart skip.

When the facility came into view, something was... wrong. The docking port was there, yes, but not quite where it should have been. The external lights were arranged in a pattern that was similar to before, but subtly altered, like looking at a familiar face in a warped mirror. Your stomach churned as the AI smoothly guided the sub into dock, everything just different enough to make you question your sanity.

"You may now exit the vessel," the AI announced, as if this was just another routine trip.

The corridors beyond the airlock were even worse. They followed the same general layout you remembered, but details were shifted. A door that should have been on the left was now on the right. A pipeline that had run along the ceiling now wound along the floor. Each difference was small, but they added up to create an environment that felt like a dream's interpretation of reality. The facility itself was gaslighting you; making you question memories that couldn't have been that long ago.

You moved through the facility, collecting data chips from terminals that seemed to appear exactly where you needed them to be, though you couldn't remember knowing their locations beforehand. Each screen you accessed contained classified information about deep-sea experiments, about mortality rates, about something called "anomaly studies." The words blurred together, but you downloaded everything, driven by an instinct you didn't quite understand. Your pockets once again filled with USB drives, you were probably close to what you had before. Maybe. The sound of plastic clinking together in your pockets was almost comical at this point.

The sound of breathing stopped you as you entered what should have been a storage room but was now some kind of office. It was coming from under a desk, the open drawers acted as a door to keep the person underneath safe.

"Lacey?" you whispered, crouching down slowly.

Your teammate was curled into a tight ball beneath the desk, her jumpsuit torn in places that didn't match the wounds you remembered her receiving. Her green eyes were wide and unfocused when she looked at you, but there was recognition there.

"You're real?" she asked, her voice cracking. "You’re alive too??"

You reached out to touch her shoulder, half expecting your hand to pass through her like a ghost. But she was solid, real, trembling under your touch. "I'm real," you assured her, though you weren't entirely certain of that yourself. "I... I died too. Woke up back in the lobby."

"I came back here to maybe find you but,” Lacey paused upon hearing a creak from another room. Once it was determined it was just the building, she continued, “No one was here.”

"We need to find Dan and Mike," you said, trying to focus on something tangible, something you could actually do. "Have you seen them?"

Lacey shook her head. "No. But I think... I think someone else is here." She pressed her hands against her temples, trying to get her bearings. "I saw a bunch of empty open drawers and a used medkit, they might be here… fuck I don’t know…" She reached for your hand and you pulled her to her feet.

Lacey's hand gripped yours tightly as you moved toward the door, both of you trying to not think too much about your situation. Somewhere in this nightmare of familiar wrongness, your other teammates were waiting.

As you moved deeper, you almost felt yourself relax. All was quiet and the office rooms you had been familiar with had melted into what you could only describe as computer labs. Rows and rows of desks with dated computers lined the walls in a sunken recess in the room. You pillaged all the desks while Lacey sat on an office chair, rolling herself around. When you deemed the room thoroughly ransacked you moved on to the next.

Your heart nearly stopped when the first light flickered. Lacey's grip on your arm painfully tight as you both froze mid step. The sounds of lightbulbs flickering almost musical if it wasn't a signal of immediate death.

"Fuck fuck fuck" Lacey whispered, her voice tight with panic. "Not again, fuck me not again."

Your eyes darted around the warped corridor, desperate for shelter. There; a maintenance locker! Without hesitation, you pulled Lacey toward it, yanking the door open wider. The space inside was barely big enough for both of you, but terror made such concerns irrelevant. You squeezed in, pulling the door closed just as the lights began their full dance.

The locker's metal walls pressed against you from both sides, Lacey's ragged breathing hot against your neck as you stood chest-to-chest in the cramped space. Through the locker's ventilation slats, you could see the strobing lights casting strange shadows in the corridor. Your hand clamped over Lacey's mouth when you heard it; that terrible sound of something massive moving through the hallway.

The creature's presence seemed to distort the air itself, making the walls of the locker vibrate slightly. The sounds of the subway were back, the vibrations now a full on earthquake as the creature screamed through the hallway. The lights exploded as it tore through, bathing the two of you in complete darkness. You held your breath until the sounds grew quieter. Lacey's tears wet your palm where it still covered her mouth.

Neither of you moved for what felt like minutes. Finally, Lacey gently pulled your hand away from her mouth. "I think it’s gone," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Holy fuck Holly I think it’s gone."

You carefully pushed the locker door open, peering out into the pitch black corridor. "Come on," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "We need to move while we can."

You had survived your second encounter with the creature. Your mind wandered to the helpful advice you’d received when you died the first time. Was it… he… helping you? Did he bring you back?

You moved down the corridor, following behind the creature, your footsteps as quiet as you could make them, both of you watching the lights overhead with newfound understanding and dread. They weren't just lights, they were a warning system, a countdown to terror.

The rooms had shifted once again, the computer labs now gave way to metal catwalks over void like chasms. Waterfalls of ocean water endlessly falling into the darkness. Lacey’s sharp edges had been sanded down by fear. She no longer stomped around like she owned the place or talked incessantly about her displeasure. Now she tightly held your hand and followed behind. She was still a child. Barely nineteen years old, barely experienced life. Attaching herself to you, the grown adult in the room like you knew what to do. You didn’t, but something maternal in you wanted to keep her safe.

The room opened up before you suddenly, a vast chamber dominated by an enormous window that stretched from floor to ceiling, curving outward into the abyss. Your first instinct was to marvel at its size, but that thought died instantly when you saw what waited beyond the glass.

It had a shark's general shape, but that's where any similarity to natural marine life ended. The creature's body was too long but that problem paled in comparison to the eyes, dozens of them, scattered across its body in no discernible pattern, that caught your attention. They glowed an impossible shade of green, like toxic bioluminescence, like orbs of pure radiation gazing their evil heat into the entire room.

Something in your mind screamed WARNING as your gaze started to fix on those eyes. You wrenched your head away, heart pounding as you realized what was happening. The pull was almost physical, like hooks in your brain trying to force you to look back.

"Lacey, don't look at it!" you shouted, grabbing her arm. "Close your eyes!"

But Lacey was already staring, her mouth slightly open, face bathed in that sickly green glow. You could see the creature's reflection in her wide eyes, multiplied dozens of times like some terrible kaleidoscope.

"I CAN’T LOOK AWAY," she screamed, taking a step toward the window. "OH FUCK IT HURTS SO MUCH, I CAN’T MOVE MY HEAD AWAY!"

"Lacey, please!" You tried to pull her back, keeping your own eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The urge to look up was overwhelming, like fighting against a current. You could feel the creature's presence pressing against your consciousness, trying to force your gaze upward.

A sound escaped Lacey's throat – not quite a scream, not quite a laugh. You risked a glance at her face and immediately wished you hadn't. Dark liquid was running from her eye sockets, not blood but something thicker, darker. She didn't seem to notice, still staring transfixed at the horror beyond the glass.

You had to let go of her arm then, stumbling backward as she walked toward the window. Your legs hit a desk and you grabbed it for support, squeezing your eyes shut tight enough that you felt pain in your head. Lacey's footsteps stopped. Her screaming was ended by a wet sound, then a thud.

You could feel that she was dead in the sudden silence, in the way the creature's mental pull seemed to lessen slightly. Your friend was gone, again, and you were alone, again, in this nightmare of murderous deep sea creatures.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. It would be too painful to see and you couldn't do anything for her anyway. Your eyes fixed to the ground as you walked to the next door.

Only when you made it to the new room did you dare to open your eyes fully. You slid down against the wall, shaking violently, the image of Lacey's melting eyes burned into your memory.

The lights in the corridor flickered once, a reminder that other horrors still lurked in this twisted place. You couldn't stay here. Somewhere in this facility, Dan and Mike might still be alive.

The facility hummed around you, its geometry still subtly wrong, as you continued your search, thinking about how Lacey would probably be back in the lobby soon, with hopefully new information. Maybe you’d run into her again further ahead. You were just guessing at this point how this all worked.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria was a surreal oasis of normalcy in the twisted facility. Circular tables dotted the space, their surfaces gleaming under fluorescent lights that, mercifully, weren't flickering. The smell of old coffee and industrial cleaning supplies provided an almost comforting familiarity after everything you'd witnessed.  Your mind wandered to the hospital staff room.  Before you’d been arrested the administration had splurged and bought a fancy single use coffee pod machine.  You only got to use it once. You wish you never took the simple things like that for granted.

You collapsed into one of the padded chairs in the break area, your body sinking into its worn cushions, admiring the gaudy fabric. The events of the past few hours (days?) crashed over you.  The initial death, the lobby, finding Lacey, losing Lacey. Your hands were still shaking. The chair's fabric felt real against your skin, grounding you in the moment. A wall clock ticked nearby, filling the silence.

The kitchen area beckoned after a while, stomach reminding you that you'd emptied it earlier into that trash bin. The industrial kitchen was in disarray, you’d expected as much, honestly. You rummaged through cabinets, finding empty packages and sealed cans. A small paring knife caught your eye in one of the drawers. Without really thinking about it, you slipped it into your pocket.

You were halfway through a package of stale saltine crackers when they entered, two men and a woman, wearing jumpsuits similar to yours but in different colours. They moved with the casual confidence of people who'd been through this many times before. The woman smiled and waved when she spotted you. A friendly face was more than welcome.

"Ah, there's always someone in the cafeteria," the woman said, settling into a chair across from you. She had close-cropped gray hair and laugh lines around her eyes that seemed at odds with this place, she looked like someone's mom or maybe grandma. "First time through?"

You swallowed your mouthful of crackers. "What do you mean, 'first time through'?"

The younger of the two men, who had a nasty scar across his throat, leaned against a nearby table. "First time dying here, she means."

"You've got that look," the older man added. He was heavy-set, with blue-grey eyes.  If you squinted he kinda looked like your dad; a large fisherman type, "That 'what the fuck is happening' look. We've all had it."

"What is happening?" you asked, the crackers turning to ash in your mouth. "I saw my friend die, twice and there was this creature with green eyes..."

"Ah, eyefestation," the woman nodded sagely. "Nasty way to go, that one.  Try your best to look all the wall away from it."

"Or you could flash it with a flash beacon and piss it off, it’s not like it matters we all come back," the scarred man explained, gesturing vaguely at the air around you. "Some kind of force or whatever you want to call it. It won't let us die.  Not permanently anyway. We just reset, wake up back in the lobby."

The older man pulled up a chair. "Best we can figure, we’re being used for some purpose. What purpose nobody really knows yet.  The crystal maybe is what’s doing it, that is my guess anyway.  Someone I talked to a while ago thinks it’s angry ghosts."

"Sooo, how long?" you asked, dreading the answer. "How long have you been... looping? Running?"

They exchanged glances. "Time's funny here after a while," the woman said carefully. "I've seen the lobby thousands of times, but Marcus here," she nodded at the scarred man, "swears he's been through millions of runs."

"Each run changes," Marcus added. "There are so many different docks, so many entrances and exits.  The paths sometimes don’t make any sense but if you go deep enough they converge in staff areas like this and you’ll see new people.  This is a popular place to see people, the admin area also has a few people hanging around."

"But why?" You thought of Lacey's melting eyes, of those three blue eyes in the lobby. "What's the point of all this?"

The older man shrugged. "Maybe there isn't one.  Maybe it’s just our punishment for being shitty people."

"The creatures seem to be hunting us," the woman mused. "Sometimes they appear in places just to surprise you I swear, the more harmless ones like to spook you."

"You'll figure out your own theories eventually," Marcus said, his hand unconsciously touching his scar. "Everyone does, after enough runs."

“Have you met Sebastian yet?” the woman asked, holding her hand out for one of your crackers, which you gladly obliged.

“Is he another prisoner?  You’re the only others I’ve met,” you frowned, realizing you’d eaten all the crackers. There wasn't much else in the kitchen and now you were thirsty.

“No no he’s…” the woman paused, picking her next words carefully, “He’s not quite a friend but not quite an enemy.  Runs a shop that everyone eventually finds where you can exchange the classified information you collect for useful things.”

“Make sure to get a flashlight,” the older man chimed in, “it’s so goddamn dark in here sometimes.”

-

You stayed in the comfort of that padded chair for a long while, trying to process everything they'd told you. Their acceptance of the situation was almost as terrifying as the situation itself. How long before you became like them, treating death as an inconvenience rather than an end?

The coffee maker in the corner dripped steadily, a safe, soothing sound. You found yourself dozing off despite everything, your body demanding rest after the trauma it had endured. The chair embraced you, and you allowed yourself to drift, knowing it might be your last moment of peace for a while.

Dreams came in fragments. Lacey's melting eyes, the creature's impossible speed, a fire engulfing everything. You jerked awake with a gasp, unsure how long you'd been out.

Your body felt heavy as you forced yourself to stand, muscles protesting after their brief rest. You needed to keep moving, needed to find Dan and Mike. The thought of them experiencing all this alone drove you forward, even as part of you wanted to stay in this peaceful bubble forever.

The corridor beyond led to a massive circular door marked "OXYGEN GARDENS." With one last look at the safety of the cafeteria, you stepped through, into the humid air of the bio domes beyond.

The first thing that struck you in the bio dome wasn't the artificial sunlight or the too perfect paths.  It was a jumpsuit. Navy blue with the facility's logo, crumpled face-down next to a tree in the middle of the dome. Even partially covered in creeping vines, you'd recognize that broad-shouldered frame anywhere.

"Mike!" The name tore from your throat before you could stop it. He wasn't moving. The grass around him bloodied, his body twisted in an unnatural position.

Your foot moved instinctively toward the grass, but you caught yourself as you noticed a large red sign: "PLEASE REMAIN ON DESIGNATED PATHS." Something about the way the vegetation pulsed made you hesitate. That's when you noticed what looked like bodies scattered throughout the grass, creatures that looked peaceful as if they were sleeping.

"Mike, please..." you whispered, standing as close to the path’s edge as you could without touching the grass. This close, you could see the dark stains on his jumpsuit, the way his arms were outstretched as if he'd been running from something. Or toward something. The sleeping figures stirred slightly in what you hoped was the breeze from the large industrial fans.

You swore you saw him breathing, breaths laboured but still breaths. His head turned very slightly and you caught a glimpse of his face; bruised and swelling beyond recognition.

You noticed his arm was outstretched, if you reached out far enough you could grab him without touching the grass, with enough adrenaline you could pull him to the path. But as you crouched near the path's edge, the grass statues jerked and startled you causing you to fall face first onto the grass you were very much not supposed to touch.

The bodies in the grass began to twitch and shift, drawn by your presence.  Shambling towards you angry that you had disturbed their turf. The warning sign downplayed the real danger.

You scrambled away, forcing your back to the wall behind you.  The plant creatures were still once more, going back to their sleeplike state.  Mike's body too far to reach in this current situation.  You wanted to help him, but you knew with horrible certainty that he wouldn’t be long for this world.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were apologizing to Mike or to yourself.

As you carefully made your way toward the next dome's airlock, you couldn't stop looking back at Mike. You'd found one of your missing crew members, but not in any way that brought comfort. 

The airlock door hissed shut behind you, cutting off the view of the garden and its victim. You leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. 

You still had to find Dan and Lacey would be back in the lobby by now, assuming what those people said about death was true. Mike too.  Was it better to sacrifice yourself and meet up with them?  You could die here and chance not being alone again.  You couldn’t decide which death was worse; having your eyes melt out of your head or being bashed against a tree by a shambling plant creature. The latter being your only real option right now unless sonething came by to kill you.

The inner airlock door opened, revealing another dome filled with more paths and more trees and grass.  You’d listen this time, not try to tempt fate for anything in the grassy areas.

-

Hours passed in the bio domes, each one slightly different from the last but all sharing the same plant statues. Your legs ached from maintaining perfect balance on the gravel paths, your mind numbed by the constant vigilance required to avoid the vegetation.  Your balance had most definitely improved.  Maybe when you get out you could be a ballerina.

The server farm was almost a relief after all that unnatural life. The steady hum of cooling fans and the rhythmic blinking of status lights felt wonderfully mechanical. Row after row of tall server racks stretched into the dimness, their black surfaces reflecting the blue emergency lighting that lined the floors. The air was cool here, almost cold after the humid domes, and carried the sharp scent of electronics and ozone.

You were examining a rack of particularly ancient-looking servers when a metallic clang made you jump. A ventilation cover on the far wall had popped open, swinging completely off its hinges. The darkness beyond seemed absolute.

"Stranger, over here." The gravelly voice was barely a whisper, but something about it tugged at your memory.

Every survival instinct screamed at you to run, but where had running gotten you so far? The vent was larger than standard size, easily big enough to crawl through.  It was probably so maintenance could fix the ventilation in the server farm.

"Why should I trust you?" you asked the darkness.

"I mean, you don’t have to, it’s your funeral" the voice snarked back.

You thought about Mike, about Lacey's melting eyes, about those three strangers in the cafeteria with their casual acceptance of endless death. "If I crawl in there and something kills me, I'll just wake up in the lobby, right?"

A sound that might have been laughter drifted from the vent. "Look at you!  A quick learner."

The vent's metal was cool under your hands as you pulled yourself in. The passage was short, leading to some kind of back room, maintenance tunnels seemed like an accurate guess.  You were a fast learner.

The dark room was decent sized for a small stockroom, filled with the metal crates you saw strewn all over the facility, and towering stacks of papers marked confidential.  On a table sat a radio, tubes of who knows what and a keycard.  You didn’t notice if the next door needed one.

Three blue eyes regarded you with a sort of apathetic annoyance.  Non-committal disdain.  The lure on its head lit up, illuminating his face and more of the room itself.

The figure that greeted you in the supply room was unlike anything you'd expected, you’re not sure what you expected but this wasn’t it, a tall, serpentine being with a humanoid upper body that transitioned into a long, smooth tail. The tail, like his body was covered in blue scales of differing hues, items were secured to his tail with numerous straps and buckles. His face bore a haunting visage with a curved toothy smile, topped by what appeared to be an angler-fish lure. Small fin-like ‘ears’ extended from either side of his head.  One of his clawed hands, of which you noticed there were three, pushed a lock of his dark hair behind his ear.

‘It’s you,” you say, hoping he’d understand what you were referring to, “are you Sebastian?”

“I see my fame precedes me,” he grinned, showing off his impossibly sharp teeth.  “Don't be afraid, I'm not gonna hurt you, despite what you have seen, heard, and/or been told. I am indeed Sebastian.  your only friend.

If I'm correct, your supervisors have told you to secure 'loose assets'. Documents, vials, whatever. However, if I can make it worth your while, I'm gonna ask you to cut a deal. You give me any research you might have on you, and I'll give you some of these items I've scavenged.

Here, you can just pick it off my tail. These would be far more useful to you, compared to some 'silly data', no? If you don't ask questions, I won't either. You get yours, and I get mine. And if you already have anything that might be running low on juice, you can buy batteries on the table next to me. Whenever you wanna get going, the keycard to the next zone is by the radio. Free of charge! No strings attached~"

You blinked at the obviously rehearsed greeting, “can I have a flashlight?”

“If you have the research.”

You stared at Sebastian's smile before reaching into your jumpsuit’s many pockets. "Actually..." you began, starting to pull out flash drive after flash drive. The small devices clattered onto the nearby table in an almost comical cascade of black and silver plastic.

"What the hell?" Sebastian's expression somehow managed to convey pure incredulity and amusement at the same time as you continued emptying pocket after pocket. His rough voice dripped with sarcasm. "Please, by all means, keep going. I'm sure there must be at least one more pocket you haven't emptied yet."

Twenty drives became thirty, then forty, the pile growing as his serpentine form shifted slightly. "Did you perhaps mistake 'secure loose assets' for 'become a walking electronics store'?" he quipped, watching as you pulled out yet another handful.

"I wasn't sure which files were important," you muttered defensively, "so I just... grabbed everything?"

"Grabbed everything?" Sebastian's eternal smile somehow managed to look even more mocking. "Expendable, there's being thorough, and then there's whatever this-" his clawed hand gestured at the mountain of approximately fifty-five drives, "-psychological condition is. I mean, were you planning to start your own data centre?"

You felt your face flush. "Better safe than sorry?"

"Oh yes, absolutely," he drawled, his tail swaying with barely contained amusement. "Because clearly, the best approach to a covert operation is to stuff every pocket with enough storage devices to archive the Library of Alexandria. Simply brilliant."

He coiled closer to the table, picking up one of the drives with exaggerated delicacy. "Well, I suppose this counts as 'research' in the most... excessive sense possible. Congratulations on single-handedly creating the world's most over complicated swap meet." He reached for something on his tail belt. "I guess you've earned that flashlight, do you want your ‘change’?"

“No, you can keep it,” you replied, “it was getting heavy.”

Sebastian held out the flashlight, and despite his sardonic demeanour, he couldn't help but notice how your entire face lit up at the simple offering. Your eyes went wide with genuine appreciation, like a kid being handed an ice cream cone, completely at odds with the general look of dishevelled chaos you embodies and the ridiculous number of flash drives scattered across the table.

"Holy shit, thank you!" you beamed, clutching the flashlight like it was made of gold.

"...Are you seriously getting this excited over a basic flashlight?" Sebastian's deadpan voice carried a note of disbelief, his lopsided grin somehow conveying both amusement and second-hand embarrassment. "After everything you've seen in this facility, this is what gets you all sparkly-eyed?"

You were already testing the beam, pointing it at various corners of the room with undisguised delight.

"Unbelievable," Sebastian muttered, his tail shifting as he watched you practically bouncing with joy. "Please tell me you're not going to try to hug me or something equally horrifying."

But there was something almost endearing about your complete lack of guile, here you were, in a nightmare facility, dealing with a sarcastic sea snake creature, and you were just genuinely thrilled about getting a flashlight.

“It’s been so dark in some of these rooms, this is a godsend!”  Your initial joy softened to an acceptable level, more acceptable for a person of your age.

"If you're quite done having your moment with the flashlight," he drawled, "the keycard's still by the radio. Unless you'd like to spend another few minutes cooing over that too?"

"Thanks for everything!" you said brightly, already turning toward the vent entrance. Your face was slightly flushed with excitement.

"Try not to blind yourself with your new toy," Sebastian called after you, his voice dripping with sarcasm as you crouched by the entrance. 

You paused at the vent's entrance, flashlight clutched happily to your chest.

Sebastian shifted in exasperation. "Please remove your enthusiastic self from my shop before I regret my life choices even more than I already do."

Your delighted giggle echoed through the vent shaft as you crawled away, the beam of your new flashlight bouncing cheerfully off the metal walls. Sebastian could hear you testing it at various angles, each discovery accompanied by a small sound of joy.

Your muffled "Thank you!" echoed back through the metal shaft, accompanied by the sound of enthusiastic crawling.

"And she's still thanking me," Sebastian muttered to himself, his tail coiling in bemusement as he watched your boots disappear into the darkness. "Unbelievable." He glanced at the mountain of flash drives still scattered across his table, then back at the vent where the sound of your journey was growing fainter, punctuated by occasional happy testing of the flashlight beam. His face plastered with both exasperation and reluctant entertainment. "Well, that's certainly a new one."

Chapter Text

Your second death wasn’t as exciting as the first; meaning you didn’t die to an unspeakable horror in the deep dark sea.  No, this was a more mundane death.  Something people normally die to when they are a target.

The turret targeting laser appeared on your chest before you even fully registered its presence, a small red dot that meant death was already locked onto you. The mechanical whir of its swivelling head adjusting was the only warning before the air erupted in deafening gunfire.

The first bullet punched through you like you were made of paper, you might as well have been, it’s not like you were wearing any actual gear. The bullet tore into your flesh just below your right collarbone. The impact spun you, and in that moment of disorientation, three more rounds ripped through your torso. Hot blood sprayed across the cold metal floor as you staggered, your legs buckling beneath you.

You tried to scramble behind a crate, but your body wasn't responding. Another burst caught you mid movement.  Two rounds shredded through your left thigh, another three impacted your lower back. The pain was overwhelming, why couldn’t it hit something vital and take you out of your misery already?

The turret was relentless, mechanical, precise. Each new impact sent fresh waves of agony through your failing body. A round caught your shoulder, spinning you onto your back. Through blurring vision, you could see the ceiling, the emotionless barrel of the turret still tracking your movement. Blood pooled beneath you, spreading in a dark crimson circle on the metal floor.

Another burst. Your chest exploded in renewed agony as bullets tore through lung tissue. Each breath became a wet, gurgling struggle. The room started to dim around the edges, your consciousness fading as your body began to shut down from the trauma and blood loss.  Soon, you were swallowed by the darkness.

-

Your body felt whole again, no bullet holes, no searing pain, just the lingering phantom sensation of being riddled with high caliber rounds. Sebastian was already moving away from the table where he'd just placed your death report, his smile somehow radiating pure incredulity.

"Wh-what were you doing? Were you trying to catch the bullets or something?" His voice carried a cutting sarcasm that you had learned to expect. The question hung in the air, but before you could even begin to explain how you'd been caught completely off guard, the office was already fading.

-

The gentle sway of the submarine brought you back to full consciousness. The metal walls hummed with the sound of engines, this was new.  No lobby, so seeing people lined up to their doom, no chance to look for your comrades.  Right back into the fray.

The submarine docked with mechanical precision, connecting to an industrial pier carved into the living rock. The airlock cycled with a hiss, revealing the facility's entrance cavern. Engineered bioluminescent arrays lined the carved stone walls in perfect, parallel lines of ethereal green. The light they cast was clean and steady, creating clear pathways through the space like methodically placed neon.

Your boots met the metal grating of the dock with a crisp echo. Everything was remarkably well-maintained - no rust, no marine growth, just clean industrial efficiency carved into natural rock. The air carried the sharp scent of the salt of the ocean.

Following the green guidance lighting, you made your way through carefully excavated tunnels. The cave system opened into a maintenance hub that looked as if it had been abandoned not long ago. Tool racks lined the walls in perfect order, each implement hanging in its designated space. Workbenches stood ready for use. Computer terminals hummed quietly in standby mode, their screens casting a soft red glow.

The natural rock gave way to pristine industrial corridors, long, straight passages illuminated by red emergency lighting. The lights were bright and steady, casting everything in a crimson wash that cast long shadows from the bladed fans above. The floor transitioned between the usual concrete and metal grates..

The first flicker of the lights was so subtle you almost missed it. The second was longer, more deliberate. In the moment of darkness, you heard it; the loud roar of something massive moving through the halls behind you. When the emergency lights resumed their steady glow, you pressed yourself into a maintenance locker, its surface cool against your back.

Through the slats in the locker door, you saw the all too familiar angler fish. The creature screamed past with unnatural smoothness, mouth agape waiting to catch people unaware.  It would not catch you again, you learned better now.  You’d watch the lights carefully.

You remained motionless until the creature disappeared into the halls ahead of you.  Loud roar becoming quieter and quieter as the distance between you and it increased.  When you felt it safe to do so, you quietly left the locker.  Lights having been blown out you were in a new level of darkness.

The facility stretched ahead, its corridors empty. The absence of human life all the more unsettling. It had occurred to you that your fairly purchased flashlight was gone, however, your pilfered paring knife remained in your pocket.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you caught something that made you freeze mid-step. The creature stood motionless in the hallway; a pitch-black silhouette that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Its proportions were wrong, impossibly thin limbs splaying out from an orb of a head, ending in what looked like multiple pointed appendages.

As you instinctively took a step closer, a high-pitched ringing started building in your ears. The sound grew sharper with each foot of distance closed, like feedback from some cosmic microphone. You quickly backed away, and the painful resonance faded. The creature remained still, its featureless head oriented in your direction but making no aggressive moves.

You maintained your distance, watching as it simply existed in the space. It didn't breathe, didn't shift, didn't display any of the minor movements that living things typically make. The darkness around it seemed deeper somehow, as if it was pulling the shadows toward itself.

The emergency lights flickered back to life, and the creature was gone, leaving you alone in the hallway with only your racing heartbeat for company. Whatever it was, it seemed content to share the space with you, as long as you respected its boundaries. A silent agreement in the depths: you don't approach, it doesn't do something horrible to you

The unfinished maintenance bay was a stark contrast to the pristine corridors you'd been traversing. Construction equipment stood frozen in place, suspended in time like the workers had vanished mid-shift. Naked support beams reached toward an incomplete ceiling, and bundles of exposed wiring hung like industrial vines from partially installed panels.

"Oh my god, you made it!" Lacey exclaimed with genuine warmth, rushing forward to wrap you in a tight hug, a canvas bag temporarily forgotten at her feet. Despite the dire circumstances, her familiar laugh echoed softly through the maintenance bay. "I never thought I’d see either of you again and you’re both here."

Mike approached, clapping you on the shoulder after Lacey released you. "I saw you in the oxygen gardens, don’t feel bad you couldn’t have helped me without getting hurt yourself.  You did the right thing, Soldier." His eyes crinkled as he smiled with genuine relief.

“I’d actually be a medic,” you laughed, glad he didn’t harbour some resentment towards you.

For a moment, the oppressive atmosphere of the facility lifted. The three of you shared a brief respite of normalcy, exchanging quick updates and relieved smiles. It felt surreal to have this pocket of warmth in the midst of such cold industrial darkness.

“Has anyone seen Dan?” you asked the pair, recalling that you hadn’t seen him since your first adventure into the facility.

Mike shook his head solemnly, “He didn’t come back right, dying broke him and at the sub launch he just couldn’t make himself continue.  Some suits took him away before I could even try to calm him down.”

"Okay, okay, reunion's over," Lacey said, her expression turning serious as she reached down for the canvas bag. She hefted the bag, its contents making that distinctive plastic-on-plastic sound of stacked VHS tapes. "This is everything I could grab."

The weight of the bag settled against you as she transferred it over. "Keep these safe," she instructed playfully. "I’ve been carrying this shit for hoooouurrrssss."

Mike's posture had also shifted, his attention now directed toward the corridor entrance. "We should get moving, the angler seems to stalk these halls often." His voice had lost its playful edge, replaced by the quiet tension of someone who'd seen too much in these halls.

The brief moment of normalcy faded, reality settling back in around you like the facility's ever present darkness. But that short reunion had done its work; you felt more grounded, more determined. 

"Fuck, this next bit is dodgy," Lacey called out, her combat boots navigating the construction debris with practiced ease. Despite her young age, she moved with the confidence of someone who'd spent plenty of time in places they weren't supposed to be.

"Found more folders," she grinned, pulling more files from a broken filing cabinet. "Why's a broken cabinet here with files anyway?" She thumbed through the folders before adding them to your bag, flicking through pages with surprising care.  “This place looks hella unfinished so why the storage?”

Mike shot her an amused look as she squeezed around a stack of pipes. Even in this tension, she maintained a sort of irreverent grace. "Nothing in this place seems to make any sense, best not to think too hard kiddo."

The canvas bag thumped against your side as she added another set of VHS tapes. "Sorry about the weight," she winced sympathetically.

"It's fine," you reassured her with a smile, "you should have seen all the USB drives I gave the shopkeeper guy for just a flashlight."

"The what?" Lacey raised an eyebrow, "there's a shop down here? In this mess?"

Mike's smile faded, his earlier warmth replaced by careful suspicion. "I don't trust the thing in the shop. It has ulterior motives for sure."

"Well, obviously," you shrugged, adjusting the heavy bag, "but Sebastian seemed nice enough. Besides, he tells us what killed us each time we die; that's been pretty helpful, actually." You realized too late that that added to his suspicious nature.

"Right, because that's normal," Mike held firm, not giving you an inch of understanding. "It's just like everything else down here; unnatural. We don't even know what it really is."

"Well, now I need to see this guy," Lacey said with teenage enthusiasm, wandering away to dig through another locker filled with junk. "Sounds more interesting than these dusty old files."

"If we run into him again," Mike insisted firmly, "I'll do the negotiating. We can't risk-"

"If we run into Sebastian again," you cut in, "I will do the negotiating. I've dealt with him before, and he's straightforward enough; he wants data, he gives supplies. Simple as that."

Lacey emerged from the locker with another handful of files, grinning at the obvious tension. "Look at you two, arguing over who gets to chat with the spooky shopkeeper. If he's handing out flashlights and stuff, might be worth a visit, yeah?"

Mike shook his head and moved ahead to scout the next section of tunnel, clearly done with the conversation. You caught Lacey giving you a curious look as she added the files to your bag, and you knew she'd be pestering you for more details about Sebastian later.

-

The transition from the rough construction tunnels to this pristine server room was jarring. Clinical white walls contrasted sharply with the ethereal blue glow emanating from the floor panels, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere.

"Now this is more like it," Lacey whispered, running her hand along one of the server banks. "Bet there's loads of data still on these."

The room was clearly divided into two distinct sections. On one side, a collection of office workstations with sleek monitors and ergonomic chairs sat in neat rows, while the other half was dominated by tall server cabinets, their status lights blinking in irregular patterns. The blue-lit floor panels created a grid-like pattern throughout, casting everything in an unsettling aquamarine glow.

"Don't touch anything that's still powered," Mike warned, eyeing the active servers with suspicion. "We don't know what it does, it could destabilize the facility in some way."

You noticed a door at the back of the server section, likely leading to some kind of administrative office. "There might be more physical records in there," you suggested, adjusting your bag of collected files.

You moved carefully between the server banks, heading toward the office door. The blue glow from below cast strange shadows upward, making the familiar shapes of office furniture look alien and distorted. Despite the room's clean, modern appearance, there was something undeniably unsettling about its sterile perfection.

Opening the door you saw a single older looking computer sitting on a table beside a laptop.  Strangely it was kept behind a cage.

The cheerful face on the screen bobbed slightly as a synthesized voice emerged from the old computer's speakers; surprisingly warm and animated despite its artificial nature. Its tone was almost childlike, but with an undercurrent of nervous energy.

"Oooouh, a visitor! I don't get those often, especially recently," the voice chirped excitedly before seeming to realize something. "What brings you here? Wait a second... Oh!"

The crude smile on the screen flickered momentarily. "I... wasn't expecting you to get here so soon."

Mike's hand moved to your shoulder, trying to pull you back toward the door, but Lacey was already leaning forward with fascination.

"Um... Okay," P.AI.nter continued, its voice becoming increasingly anxious. "Now, before you get mad, let me explain. I don't hate you... promise! It's nothing personal. I'm just trying to sidetrack you a bit before-"

The sudden crackle of radio static filled the office as a new voice cut through: smooth, professional, and unmistakably familiar to you.

"Hey, kid? Who are you talking to?" Sebastian's voice emerged from somewhere near the terminal.

P.AI.nter's face brightened even further. "Oh! Se-Sebastian! Hey! Um... I think this is the person you were talking about earlier."

Mike's expression darkened at the mention of Sebastian, while Lacey's eyes widened with recognition. "Wait, that's your shopkeeper?" she whispered.

"Oooh, that one?" Sebastian's voice carried a note of amusement.

"Heh, yeah. The blonde one, she has a bunch of VHS tapes this time," P.AI.nter responded, you realized immediately he was talking about you.

A groan echoed from the radio, “I guess it’s better than a hundred USB drives.”

“Excuse you, it was fifty-five,” you crossed your arms playfully.

"Well, I just wanted to drop in to make sure you're doing alright," Sebastian's voice smoothly continued, ignoring your protest. "I'll call you back if I need your help."

"Okay! Bye! See you later!" P.AI.nter chirped.

"See ya, kid."

The crude smile on P.AI.nter's screen seemed to shift slightly, becoming almost sheepish. "Heheh... Anyway... I think you should get going now."

Despite Mike's urgent tugging and the unsettling conversation you'd just witnessed, you found yourself raising your hand in a small wave goodbye. Something about the AI's whimsical demeanor and apparent isolation in this undersea hell hole made you feel a pang of sympathy. In a facility full of hostile entities and deadly anomalies, even a potentially duplicitous friendly face felt worth acknowledging.

"Really?" Mike muttered, but P.AI.nter's screen brightened noticeably at your gesture.

"Bye bye!" the AI called out cheerfully. "Sorry about... you know... everything!"

As you passed back through the server room, Lacey fell into step beside you. "So the shopkeeper and the little AI guy are friends," she mused. "Bit more personable than I expected. Almost cute, in a creepy sort of way."

"That's how they get you," Mike warned, but you noticed he'd relaxed slightly once you were away from the office. "Friendly faces hiding ulterior motives. Just like your shopkeeper friend."

The blue glow from the floor panels seemed somehow colder now as you made your way toward the exit, the servers humming their monotonous song. You couldn't shake the feeling that both P.AI.nter and Sebastian were pieces of a larger puzzle you were only beginning to understand.

Chapter Text

Mike slowly pulled the next door open, only to discover this part of the facility was partially flooded. The sunken office room filled with water from an unknown source, standing water reflected the emergency lighting in shimmering patterns across the walls. Despite being stagnant, water was surprisingly clear, reaching just above your knees. There was something almost peaceful about the gentle lapping sounds that echoed through the space.  It reminded you of the beach mixed together with an indoor pool.  Waves of water lapping at the concrete walls.

"Finally, a bit of fun!" Lacey exclaimed, breaking the tense atmosphere by deliberately falling backward into the water with a splash. Floating on her back, feet sticking up out of the water as she lazily used her arms to move around. 

Instead of joining in the fun, Mike methodically searched through a partially submerged storage locker. "Got something," he announced, pulling out what looked like a modified flashlight. "Flash beacon. Military grade." He demonstrated by pointing it at a far wall and triggering it; a burst of intense white light briefly turned night into day, leaving spots dancing in your vision.

"Ow fuck, warn a girl!" Lacey complained, having caught the flash full in the face. She rubbed her eyes as Mike clipped the device to his belt.

"Could be useful," he said simply. "Especially if we run into anything light-sensitive down here."

“Maybe it will work on the angler? It seems to break the lights when it rolls through.” Mike nodded in agreement as Lacey swam by him, it was a pretty fair assessment and all you had to go with at this point.

While they bantered, something caught your eye; a faint, pulsing glow coming from beneath the water near a fallen filing cabinet. Reaching down, your fingers closed around a smooth glass vial. As you lifted it out of the water, the contents took your breath away.

Inside the sealed tube, what appeared to be strands of DNA twisted and coiled in mesmerizing patterns, but instead of the usual blue or green visualization you'd expect, these strands glowed with intense reds and oranges. The double helix seemed to move of its own accord, like a liquid flame trapped in glass.

"Guys," you called out, holding up the vial. The light it cast painted rippling fire-like patterns across your hand.

Lacey stopped her swimming and waded over, water streaming from her clothes. "Now that's proper weird science stuff," she whispered, reaching out but stopping short of touching it. "What do you think it is?"

Mike approached more cautiously, his expression grim. "Whatever it is, it's not natural. The way it moves... it's almost alive."

The DNA strands continued their hypnotic dance within the vial, casting warm light across the cold water around you. You carefully stored it in your pack, making sure it was secure.

"Right then," Lacey said, wringing out her shirt. "What other treasures do you reckon this indoor pool's hiding?"

The water continued its gentle movement around your legs, and somewhere in the distance, metal groaned under pressure.  The facility its own beast.

The three of you waded through several flooded rooms.  The, what you assumed were, standard issue wetsuit keeping you warm and moderately dry.  The ocean at these depths was positively frigid.  The next door opened up to a set of stairs, thankfully leaving the water behind and into a new set of rooms.
The space had that distinct abandoned feel, with papers scattered about and office furniture pushed against walls, but it was the ventilation grate at the bottom of the wall that commanded everyone's attention.

Without warning, the metal grate suddenly popped loose, clattering to the floor with a sound that made Lacey jump. The dark rectangular opening gaped at you like a mechanical maw.

"Got something for ya," Sebastian's smooth voice drifted out from the darkness of the vent. "Come here."

Mike immediately put his arm out, preventing you from moving closer. "Not a chance," he muttered, his other hand moving to the flash beacon on his belt.

"That's horror movie shit," Lacey whispered, backing away slightly. "What if he fucking eats us or something."

The darkness in the vent seemed to deepen, and Sebastian's voice came again, carrying that same underlying sarcasm you remembered from your first in person meeting. "I don’t have all day."

Water continued to drip from your clothes, each drop echoing in the tense silence. 

"Can you give us information instead of wares?" you called out, keeping your distance but unable to suppress your curiosity. After the conversation with P.AI.nter, it was clear Sebastian was more deeply involved in this facility's mysteries than you'd initially realized.

The darkness in the vent shifted slightly, like a curtain moving in an unfelt breeze. "Depends," Sebastian's voice replied, "show me what you have to trade and we can talk."

"Yeah, because crawling into a dark vent when a creepy voice calls never ended badly in the history of ever," Lacey muttered, though you could hear the uncertainty in her voice. 

Mike's grip on the flash beacon tightened. "Whatever game you're playing," he called out to the vent, "we're not interested."

A soft chuckle emerged from the darkness. "Oh, but you are. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Whatever Sebastian was, whatever game he was playing, he was right about one thing: you were looking for answers. The question was: could you trust the ones he was offering?

"Mike, don't!" But he was already pushing past you, dropping to his knees and crawling into the vent shaft. The sound of his movement through the metal tunnel echoed hollowly until there was a definitive clang; he'd closed another grate behind him, sealing himself in with Sebastian.

Lacey grabbed your arm, her grip tight. "This is bad.  What do we do?" She looked to you for answers where you really had none.

You could hear their voices, slightly muffled through the metal:

"Enough games," Mike's voice was hard, determined. "What's really going on here? What's are these fucking monsters? What are you?  Tell me what you know and you will be spared."

Sebastian's response came with that same unsettling smoothness, though now tinged with irritation. "My, my... so demanding. And here I thought we could have a civilized conversation."

You dropped to your knees, crawling to the vent and banging on the closed grate. "Mike, please! This isn't the way! We can find another-"

A sudden burst of intense white light flooded through the grate's slats momentarily blinding you, followed by an inhuman shriek of pain that made your blood run cold.  A cry of untold agony filled the small room that served as a shop.

"TALK!" Mike shouted. "What are you hiding?"

Sebastian's voice came back different now; gone was the friendly yet sarcastic shopkeeper's tone, replaced by something raw and furious. "FUCK YOU, LEAVE NOW."

There was a whipping sound, like air being cut by something moving at incredible speed, followed by Mike's grunt of pain. Another flash lit up the vent, the beacon again, accompanied by another screech from Sebastian.

But this time, the screech was followed by a distinctive sound: the mechanical click of multiple shotgun barrels being cocked.

"NO," you screamed, pulling frantically at the grate, “WAIT WE CAN TALK-”

The triple boom of the shotgun was deafening in the confined space, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating a horrifying tableau through the grate's slats; Sebastian's inhuman silhouette, a long serpentine tail whipping behind him, the three-barrelled sawed-off shotgun smoking in his hands, and Mike...

Mike's body slumped against the shop wall, the flash beacon falling from his lifeless fingers. Blood began pooling beneath him, running in thin rivulets along the floor.

"Fuck," Lacey whispered behind you, her voice shaking. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Sebastian's breathing was heavy. "Should've just minded your own business," he muttered, and you could hear him moving away back to his usual position in the shop.

A metallic scraping sound filled the air as Sebastian's tail; long, scaled, and surprisingly dexterous, reached through the darkness and slammed against the vent grate. It swung open with an ominous creak, revealing the full horror of the scene beyond. Mike's body lay crumpled against the wall, the triple-blast pattern clearly visible even in the dim light.

"I... I'm sorry," you found yourself saying, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I tried to stop him. He wouldn't listen." Your voice sounded strange to your own ears, shaky and small in the confined space.  Everything happened so fast.

Sebastian's form shifted in the shadows, his tail coiling slightly, large fin laying against the wall. The shopkeeper facade was gone now; there was something furious and predatory in his movement, though his voice retained a hint of its former smoothness. "Get what you want and leave if you know what’s good for you."

"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

Lacey's voice exploded from behind you, raw with fury and disbelief. "He just murdered Mike! Blew him apart, and you're apologizing to HIM?"
You turned to see her face contorted with rage, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What is wrong with you? That thing isn't your friend! It's not some shopkeeper you need to stay polite with! It's a monster that just killed a man in cold blood!"

"Blondie" Sebastian said, three eyes narrowed, you didn’t even have time to register the new nickname. "Calm the goddamn kid down before I do it."

“Lacey we need to stay calm,” you listened to him, not wanting anything to go more south than it already had. “He’ll come back and-”

"Calm?" Lacey's voice cracked. "You want us to stay calm while Mike's blood is literally everywhere?" She grabbed your arm, trying to pull you back. "We need to go. Now. And you need to stop acting like this thing is anything but a killer."

You found yourself caught between Lacey's desperate grip and Sebastian's unblinking gaze. The apology still hung in the air between you, a testament to either your diplomacy or your cowardice; you weren't sure which anymore.

"Lacey, please, just listen-" but she was already backing away, her face a mask of disgust and betrayal.

"No, YOU listen," she spat, pointing a trembling finger at Mike's body. "That's what being reasonable with monsters gets you. That's what trying to play nice with things that aren't human gets you. And you're standing there apologizing!"

She turned sharply, her boots squeaking on the floor, still wet from the flooded rooms. At the vent opening she paused, looking back over her shoulder. “We’re better off without you.” Then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded into the facility's ambient hum.

The silence that followed was deafening. Sebastian shifted in the dim light, his tail making a soft scraping sound against the metal as he secured his shotgun back in its chest holster.

"People like you," he said finally, gesturing vaguely in the direction Lacey had gone, "people who come down here at the behest of Urbanshade, you're all expendable. Harsh, maybe, but true. You come with your orders, and I trade with you. Information for items. Items for information." His tail swayed thoughtfully. "It's a system that works, as long as nobody gets..." he glanced at Mike's body, "...aggressive."

Water continued to drip from your clothes, joining the growing pool of blood on the floor. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the facility's machinery humming, indifferent to the revelations and violence that had just transpired in this small, terrible space.
Sebastian was trading with people like you, using you all for some larger purpose you couldn't begin to understand. And now Lacey was gone, taking with her perhaps your last connection to normalcy in this undersea nightmare.

Mike's blood continued its slow journey along the concrete floor.  You think you understood now, this was something normal, something real.  Murder.  Not being eaten or clawed to pieces by untold horrors that never breached the surface.  She was just a kid, and hadn't lived much.  It was stupid of you to expect any other reaction.

-

The pink blur came out of nowhere, moving with impossible speed through the hallways. You remember the frantic screeching, the desperate search for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. But the corridors were empty this time, no convenient lockers, no shelter. Just smooth walls and that terrible, familiar glow approaching fast.
The last thing you saw was that grotesque, bulbous body, its bioluminescent lure casting a sickly pink light across your face. Its teeth were different from the first angler fish, smaller, more numerous, arranged in concentric circles like some terrible flower. The pain was mercifully brief.

And then you were back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The facility became a maze you knew by heart. Each death taught you something new about the creatures that hunted you through the halls. Sebastian's shop became a constant, a fixed point in the endless cycle of exploration and death.  Small comfort wherever you could find it.

"Back again?" he would say, tail swaying lazily as you browsed his ever changing inventory. Sometimes you'd trade information about the facility itself, sometimes about the creatures you'd encountered. He never seemed surprised to see you, never questioned how you kept returning after each death.  He knew so much more than he would ever tell you.

Time lost all meaning. How many runs had it been? How many times had you walked these halls, collected data, died, and returned? The conversations with Sebastian began to blur together, each visit both familiar and slightly different, like variations on a theme. The facade of the friendly shopkeeper had long since dropped, replaced by something more like a business partnership built on mutual understanding and shared memories. He'd seen you die countless times, watched you stumble back into his shop with new stories, new data, new trades to make.

The psychological toll of remembering everything was perhaps worse than the deaths themselves. Each failure, each mistake, each moment of terror before the angler's teeth found you or something horrible in the shadows consumed you; it all accumulated in your mind like sediment at the bottom of the ocean. You carried every death with you, and so did everyone else who witnessed them. Each death wasn't a reset button; it was just another layer of trauma, another memory for everyone to carry.

You learned to recognize the subtle signs of imminent death; the way the air would change before a creature attacked, the specific qualities of different bioluminescent glows, the almost subliminal sounds that preceded disaster.
Death became routine, almost boring. Just another run, another chance to explore a different path, gather different data.  Your worst fear had come to pass since you met that first group of expendables in the cafeteria.  You had become like them; another cog in the machine of death.

Lacey's anger didn't reset to zero like some video game checkpoint. It festered, grew, transformed into something harder and colder each time she saw you return.  Sometimes you saw her with an entirely new group, sometimes you saw her alone.  It didn’t matter.  If looks could kill you’d be dead.

"Still playing nice with the monster?" she'd spit whenever your paths crossed, her initial betrayal now compounded by watching you die and return, die and return, always going back to Sebastian's shop like nothing had happened. 

You started to wonder if this was hell, not the traditional fire and brimstone, but an eternal cycle of curiosity and death in the depths of an abandoned facility. Or maybe it was purgatory, a place where time had no meaning and death was just a minor inconvenience.

The pink angler fish became just another hazard to avoid, another way to reset the cycle. Its terrible flower-teeth no longer frightened you.  They were just another familiar feature in this strange underwater purgatory you now called home.

Mike's permanent absence stood as a stark reminder that some consequences couldn't be undone. His blood still stained the floor of the shop, a permanent mark in a place where even death proved temporary.  He might have been the first to not come back.  You weren’t sure.
The others who heard Lacey’s retelling never forgot, their wary glances at Sebastian's shotgun, the way they'd warn newcomers in hushed whispers about the creature who ran the shop and the expendable he'd killed for good.  

You had no explanation and Sebastian didn’t offer one either even if he knew.

-

You almost walked past the shop at first, but the dark blood smeared on the floor and around the usual vent entrance made you do a double take.  Crawling through the darkness to more blood, it stuck to your hands and wetsuit partially dried almost gluing you in place.

When you saw him coiled in the corner of the shop it was apparent something was off.  His usually fluid movements were stiff, defensive, a deep gash running along the tail's length with an even worse wound splitting the fin.  Like a wounded animal his ear fins were flatted to his head, lure dimmed and claws ready.

"Shop’s closed," he said curtly. "Come back later."

"You're hurt," you said, keeping your distance but assessing the wounds with a practiced eye. "There's a med bay a few rooms back. I can help."

"And I should trust you why?" Sebastian's laugh was harsh, pained.

"I was a nurse," you persisted, keeping your voice steady despite his increasing agitation. "Those wounds need proper treatment. Metal fragments in there, from what I can see. They'll get infected if-"

"I can handle it myself," he snapped, but you noticed how he shifted his weight, trying to keep pressure off the damaged tail.  “Just an accident while scavenging.”

"Really? Going to suture your own tail fin? That'll work well." The words came out more sarcastic than intended, making you wince, but you pressed on. "Look, I've died enough times to know what matters down here. Right now, what matters is that you're hurt, I can help, and infection in this facility is no joke."

His eyes narrowed. "And what do you want in return?"

"Nothing. Sometimes help is just help."

His only response was a low growl, but you could see him weighing options through the pain. 

A long moment passed, broken only by the soft drip of blood on metal. "Get your supplies. But make it quick. And if this is a trick..."

"Then you can shoot me. And I'll come back. Again. And we both know how that cycle goes."

When you returned with the medical bag, he was still tense, watching your every move like a wounded predator. You laid out the supplies where he could see them. "This is going to sting," you warned, reaching for the tweezers.

"Just do it," he muttered, though his tail flinched away when you first touched it.

"Keep still," you ordered, falling into your professional tone. "Unless you want me to start over."

Working methodically, you extracted metal fragments and cleaned the wounds. The tissue structure beneath the scales was unlike anything you'd studied in medical school; not quite fish, not quite reptile, but something else entirely.

"I've never treated anyone quite like you before," you said quietly, preparing the suture strips.

A harsh laugh escaped him, more bitter than amused. "Wow, really?"

"Are there others like you? In the ocean?"

That laugh again, darker this time. "You think I'm some kind of sea creature? Some evolutionary marvel from the depths?" His tail shifted under your hands. "I was human once. Just like you. A prisoner in this facility."

Your hands stilled for a moment.  You’d skimmed some files that vaguely spoke of experiments on anomalies, but nothing on humans. "The experiments..."

"Were cruel," he finished flatly. "Very cruel. And very effective." He gestured to his inhuman form. "This was their success story. Their 'breakthrough' in human adaptation."

You focused on carefully applying the suture strips, trying not to think about what kind of experiments could transform a human into something like Sebastian. "That's why you run the shop? To gather information about what they did?"

"Among other reasons," he said evasively. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in understanding exactly what happened in this facility and using it to my advantage."

"There," you said finally, stepping back. "Try not to flex it too much for a while. The strips need time to hold."

Sebastian tested his tail cautiously, the movement more fluid now. "Why really help me?"

"Because I've seen enough monsters in this facility to know the difference between the real ones and the ones they created."

His expression changed subtly; surprise? Recognition? But all he said was, "Leave. Now."

Over the next few runs, you made checking Sebastian's wounds part of your routine. Each time you'd return with fresh supplies scavenged from the med bay: antiseptic, clean bandages, antibiotic ointment. His initial hostility gradually faded into something more like resigned acceptance.

"Back again?" he'd say, not quite friendly but no longer reaching for his shotgun when you got too close.

"Wounds like that need monitoring," you'd reply, setting out your medical supplies. "Especially in this environment."

The third time you came to check the sutures, he actually shifted his tail to give you better access without being asked. "Still playing nurse?"

"Sebastian I have a degree in nursing and like forty thousand in student debt.  I hope I can play nurse," you delivered his snark right back, carefully examining the healing gash. "This is just the right thing-"

The sound of approaching footsteps cut you off. Three divers,newer expendables you'd seen around the facility, entered the shop, stopping short when they saw you tending to Sebastian's tail.

"Holy shit," one of them muttered, taking an instinctive step back.

Sebastian's posture immediately changed, becoming more rigid, more shopkeeper-like despite his injury. "Looking to trade?"

The group's leader, a woman with faded blue strips on her diving suit, held up a waterproof tablet. "Found some research files. Thought they might interest you."

"They might," Sebastian replied smoothly, though you noticed how his tail tensed slightly under your hands as the strangers moved closer.

You continued your work quietly, listening as they haggled over the files. The expendables kept throwing nervous glances your way, clearly unsettled by the sight of someone calmly treating the creature they'd been warned about.

"That's quite a collection of files," Sebastian said, examining the tablet. "Take what you need from the straps on my tail. Within reason."

As they gathered supplies, you heard them whispering:

"Is that the one the girl warned us about?"

"Yeah, and now she's what... his nurse?"

"Better her than me. You heard what he did to that guy who used a beacon on him..."

They left quickly with their traded supplies, casting one last bewildered look at the scene behind them.

"Your reputation precedes you," you commented dryly, applying fresh ointment to the healing fin.

"So does yours," Sebastian replied. "The expendable playing doctor to the facility's monster."

"You're not a monster," you said automatically, then added, "The wounds are healing well, by the way. Another day or two and you won't need me checking them."

Something almost like amusement flickered in his expression. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

You packed up your supplies, noting how he no longer watched your every move like a potential threat. "Take it however you want. I'll be back tomorrow with fresh bandages."

"I don't need-" he started, then stopped himself, settling instead for a resigned, "Whatever."

It wasn't friendship, exactly. But as you left the shop, hearing him begin sorting through the newly acquired files, you realized it was probably the closest thing to normal human interaction either of you had experienced in this place for a very long time.

Chapter Text

Moment One:  What's in a Name?

You're idly spinning on one of Sebastian's stools, watching him reorganize a his inventory for what must be the tenth time today. The thought strikes you suddenly, absurdly.

"You know, I just realized I've never actually told you my name."

His tail pauses briefly in its movement, but he doesn't turn around. "Your name doesn’t matter down here."

"Yeah, but I've never told you. I'm Holly."

His lure dims slightly, and he becomes very interested in adjusting the position of a circuit board. "I prefer Blondie. Or Expendable, if you're being particularly annoying."

You stop spinning, studying his deliberately rigid posture. "Hmm it seems you're awfully resistant to using my actual name."

"I'm not resistant to anything," he says stiffly, being very resistant. “There is no reason to use your name.”

You prop your chin on your hand, watching his lure flicker. "It makes it harder to maintain that careful distance you're so fond of, huh?"

All three of his eyes narrow, though he still won't look at you directly. "Has anyone ever told you that you're annoying?"

"Yes; you, frequently. But you're still not denying it... Sebastian."

His tail lashes once at the deliberate use of his name, almost knocking you off your stool. "Don't you have somewhere else to be, Blondie? Perhaps dying horrifically to the anglers wandering around?"

"Nope," you say cheerfully, resuming your spinning. "Just here, existing. Being Holly."

"Being annoying," he mutters, but you notice he's reorganized the same few items on the table three times now, his tail unconsciously staying near your stool despite his apparent irritation.

"You know," you add thoughtfully, "for someone who claims to not care, you sure spend a lot of energy pretending not to care."

"I'm leaving now," he announces, finally abandoning his pretense with his current inventory. "Feel free to continue existing somewhere else... Expendable."

But as he moves to another part of the shop, you notice he doesn't actually tell you to leave. And when you catch his reflection in one of the metal surfaces, you see him mouth your name once, silently, when he thinks you're not looking, testing it out like something dangerous but intriguing, before shaking his head and returning to his careful walls of distance and denial.

Moment Two: The Hurt in Me

You thread the needle carefully, trying to patch the tear in your wetsuit without stabbing yourself in the leg. "Not exactly professional tailoring, but it'll have to do."

"Why did you do it?" Sebastian asks suddenly, his voice trying for casual as he loads hard drives and files into a metal crate nearby.

"Do what? Rip my suit? Pretty sure that was your security system's fault-"

"No," his tail shifts restlessly. "That time with the other expendables. When you defended me to the girl. You didn't know me. I had just killed your friend."

You pause in your sewing, considering the question. Sebastian continues methodically packing files, his movements deliberately measured, though you notice he's staying within conversation distance despite having crates to fill across the shop.

"I'm not entirely sure," you admit, pulling the thread through carefully. "I think that the hurt in me recognized the hurt in you."

His three eyes flick toward you briefly before darting away, his lure dimming slightly. The rhythmic sound of files being sorted continues, though his tail has gone notably still.

"That's..." he starts, then stops, his movements becoming more rigid, more controlled. "What exactly are you implying?"

You focus on your sewing, watching him retreat behind his walls. "Just that hurt people can spot other hurt people pretty easily. Prison teaches you that fast. And you..." you gesture vaguely with your needle, "you were trying so hard to maintain control, to keep everyone at a distance."

His tail coils tightly around the crate he's filling. "And what's in these drives is none of your concern," he says sharply, clearly deflecting from the more personal aspect of the conversation.

"Didn't ask about the drives," you say mildly, returning to your sewing. "But nice deflection."

He stiffens further, all three eyes narrowing. "I'm not deflecting. I'm working. I didn’t know you were my therapist, where do I send the bill?"

"Okay okay," you shrug, wincing as you prick your finger. You notice his lure flickers briefly at your pain, despite his attempted aloofness.

He continues loading files, but you notice he's still working his way around the room in a pattern that keeps him near your position, though he's careful to appear completely focused on his task whenever you look up. His lure casts shifting patterns of light across your work, and occasionally you catch him watching you with an expression that seems caught between defensiveness and something softer he quickly suppresses.

You continue sewing in what's now a slightly tenser silence, pretending not to notice how he flinches slightly every time you wince at jabbing yourself with the needle, or how his tail unconsciously moves closer when you struggle with a particularly difficult stitch, even as he maintains his rigid posture and careful distance.

Moment Three: Trivial Pursuit

"I can't believe we're doing this," Sebastian mutters as you set up the dusty Trivial Pursuit board.  You had found it in an abandoned staff room, this was the only game that still had all the pieces.

"Oh, come on, Sebastian!" P.AI.nter's voice crackles through the radio. "I haven't played this game!"

"It’s been forever since I played," you add, carefully arranging the cards. "Not since before prison. Though I was always terrible at trivia."

"I don't need fun," Sebastian grumbles, but he's already settling into position.

"Maybe you’ll be less grumpy after we play," you tease, earning a flicker of his lure and narrowed eyes. "Besides, what else are we going to do? I'm not dying right now, and you're not selling anything, so..."

"I'll be the green piece!" P.AI.nter announces. "Sebastian, you should be the orange one."

"This is stupid," he says, but picks up the orange piece anyway. "How is this even going to work with you playing through a radio?"

"I can see the board through the security cameras," P.AI.nter says proudly. "And I promise to only use information I can piece together from facility records!"

You roll first, landing on Sports & Leisure. "Oh god, sports. My worst category."

"Which Olympic sport was dropped after 1920 because of the deaths of several competitors?"

"I have no idea," you whisper, staring blankly at Sebastian. "Something with horses maybe?"

"Live pigeon shooting!" P.AI.nter exclaims. "According to Dr. Martinez's research notes..."

"I wasn’t even close," you grimace. "Also, P.AI.nter, that's definitely stretching the definition of 'facility information.'"

"It's literally from our database!" P.AI.nter protests while Sebastian's tail twitches in agreement with your accusation.

The game continues, and you find yourself relaxing despite everything. You're terrible at most categories except Science & Nature, but you're having fun watching Sebastian get increasingly competitive and P.AI.nter's creative justifications for knowing answers.

"Name the only species of cat that can't retract its claws," you read.

"Cheetah!" Sebastian answers quickly, his lure brightening.

"Someone's getting into it," P.AI.nter says, making Sebastian's eyes roll.

"At least I'm not looking up answers in maintenance logs," he retorts.

"No, you just happen to know everything about cats," you smirk. "I wonder why."

"He likes cats," P.AI.nter's voice crackled through the radio.

His tail flicks in your direction. "I will knock this board over."

"No you won't," you laugh. "You're winning against me at least."

When P.AI.nter finally wins through what you suspect is creative data mining, Sebastian's entire form ripples with indignation.

"This was completely unfair," he declares. "You answered questions about ancient history using a janitor's blog!"

"Still better than my score," you point out. "I think I set a new record for worst Trivial Pursuit performance ever."

"That's because you kept choosing sports," P.AI.nter chimes in. "Even though you got every biology question right."

"Rematch," Sebastian demands. "And this time, kid, you can only use official research documents. And you," he points a claw at you, "have to stop picking categories you know you'll fail at."

"Where's the fun in that?" you grin. "Besides, watching you get increasingly frustrated with my terrible guesses has been the highlight of my day."

"Just roll the dice," he growls, but you notice his lure glowing brighter, and how his tail has relaxed its agitated movements.

For a moment, it's almost possible to forget where you are, to forget about the deaths and the horror and the endless cycle of runs. For a moment, it's just three beings, playing a board game, finding connection in the most unlikely of places. And if you notice how Sebastian's tail has gradually moved closer to your side of the board throughout the game, neither of you mention it.

Chapter Text

The sound of hushed voices drew your attention upward. Using fallen debris, you climbed carefully toward the catwalk, curiosity overtaking caution. Your hands shook slightly as you pulled yourself up, you'd been avoiding Lacey since Mike's permanent death, since the anger in her eyes became too heavy to bear.

"Well, if it isn't the monster's pet nurse," Lacey's voice cracked through the stale facility air, trying to sound tough despite the tremor in her words. All bravado masking fear. "Following me now?"

"Actually," you grunted, pulling yourself fully onto the catwalk, "I make it a point to avoid you. Guess today's not my lucky day."  You instantly regret how mean that sounds, too late to take it back now.

Lacey gestured to the older woman beside her. "Sarah here was just sharing something interesting about your friend." Her fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of her wetsuit, a nervous habit you'd noticed before. "Tell her what you heard."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes. "I was in the vents, trying to find a way around flooded sections. I heard Sebastian and P.AI.nter talking. They're working together, creating kill zones with the turrets and herding the beasts towards us. They're stopping anyone from reaching the crystal."

"There has to be a reason," you said automatically, though cold dread settled in your stomach. "Sebastian wouldn't-"

"Oh my god," Lacey's laugh was high and brittle, more scared than bitter. "Still defending him? I thought you were different, you know? You were the only one who didn't treat me like some dumb kid." Her voice cracked.

"You don't know what they did to him," you shot back, your own voice wavering. "He was human once-"

"Mike is dead because of him!" Lacey screamed, sounding every bit her age at that moment. "The only person here who actually gave a shit about me, and he's gone! And you're bringing that thing medical supplies? Playing nurse while he works with P.AI.nter to kill us all?"

"We don’t know why Mike didn’t come back-"

"I want to go home!" The words burst out like she'd been holding them back forever. "I took this stupid fucking job so I didn’t have to spent five years in prison.  They didn’t even want me, you know?  I begged when they asked some of the other inmates.  Now I’m trapped here because of that fucking creature."

"Just give me time to figure this out-"

"Shut up!" Lacey's hands balled into fists, tears streaming down her face. "You think you're so special because you've 'figured him out'? Because you can see past the monster to the poor tragic victim underneath?"  She wiped her tears on her sleeve, “How beautiful, you’re the best; patron saint of monsters.”

"Lacey," you lowered your voice, trying to reach the scared teenager beneath the anger. "If they're blocking access to the crystal, there has to be a logical-"

"Fuck you Holly." The words came out in a broken whisper.

The shove came without warning. One moment you were arguing, the next you were falling through empty air. Your leg twisted horrifically as you hit the ground with a sickening crunch, pain exploding through your body.

Through waves of agony, you heard Lacey's voice from above, breaking like a child's: "Have fun crawling back to your monster now." Her footsteps grew quieter, leaving you alone with the knowledge that you'd failed her.

Consciousness faded in and out as you dragged yourself through the facility's corridors. The office chair you'd found became both salvation and torture device, every bump sending fresh agony through your shattered leg. Twice you had to abandon it to hide in lockers from death stalking nearby, each time wondering if you'd have the strength to reach the chair again.  The strength to climb back onto it to keep moving.

When you finally drag yourself through the vent into Sebastian's shop, he's there, you knew he would be but it feels good to see him, his massive tail coiled beneath him as he sorts through papers. The lure atop his head casts gentle shadows across the walls.

"You look like shit," he says, watching you from the corner of his eyes.  His tone is softer than his words might suggest.

You manage a weak smile, trying to drag yourself toward a nearby table. "It’s called fashion, look it up."

His tail uncurls slightly as he moves closer, though he pretends to be focused on his papers. You sway unsteadily, vision blurring at the edges, and his tail shifts behind you, not quite touching, but close enough to catch you if you fall. There's a moment of hesitation, then you feel the smooth scales press gently against your back, offering silent support.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly, but you're too exhausted to move away. The muscle beneath his scales is firm but surprisingly warm, and you find yourself cautiously leaning into it. He doesn't acknowledge the question, continuing to sort through his papers as if he hasn't just offered you this small comfort.

You settle against his tail, careful of your mangled leg, and notice how the powerful muscles adjust slightly to better support your weight. It's a strangely intimate moment, this creature who maintains such careful distance, allowing you to rest against him while pretending it means nothing at all.

With trembling hands, you use your trusty paring knife to slice through the neoprene wetsuit, each cut revealing more of the devastation beneath. The break is compound; white bone juts through the skin at an unnatural angle, surrounded by a corona of deep purple bruising that spreads like watercolor across your flesh. Blood oozes steadily from where the jagged bone edge has torn through muscle and tissue, creating a growing pool on Sebastian's floor.

The surrounding skin is stretched taut and shiny, swollen to nearly twice its normal size. When you carefully peel back the last of the wetsuit, you can see the way your leg bends wrong just below the knee, the limb twisted so the foot faces almost sideways. Fragments of bone shift visibly under the skin with each small movement, sending fresh waves of white-hot agony up your spine. Small capillaries have burst around the break site, creating a spiderweb pattern of burst vessels that makes your skin look marbled. The exposed bone gleams wetly in the shop's dim light, stark white against the deep red of torn muscle and the darker crimson of pooling blood. Each pulse of your heart forces more blood from the wound, making the exposed tissues glisten.

You watch, oddly detached, as a piece of loose skin, partially separated from the force of the break, flutters with each labored breath you take. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the antiseptic scent of Sebastian's shop, creating a uniquely nauseating combination.

Sebastian's tail moves slightly closer, its smooth scales catching the light as he pretends not to notice the growing severity of your injury. But you see how his ear fins twitch when a particularly concerning crackle comes from the break site as you try to find a more comfortable position.

"That's..." you swallow hard, fighting a wave of dizziness as you stare at the ruin of your leg, "definitely very broken."

"There’s that degree at work," he murmurs, but you notice how his ear fins twitch with concern as he studies your injury.

"Right?  I wouldn’t be able to tell without it."

He adjusts his hair behind his ear again, a gesture you've come to recognize as nerves. 

You let your head rest against him. "Mind if I stay for a bit? Just until the room stops spinning."

"I suppose I can't stop you," he sighs, absently tapping his claws against the table next to him. "Though you're terrible for business."

"Yes, all your other customers must be so disappointed." You gesture weakly at the empty shop. "The line is out the door."

"They're not very patient. Dying to get here." His chuckles darkly.

"Sebastian?" You hate how vulnerable your voice sounds. "I need to ask you something."

His tapping stills. "Ominous."

"Are you and P.AI.nter... are you responsible for stopping people from reaching the crystal?"

The silence stretches between you. He closes his three glowing eyes as he considers his answer.

"Yes," he says finally. "We're planning to escape. But if anyone retrieves the crystal, the facility restarts operation. We need time. And before you start with the moral outrage; what do you think happens to all the expendables who don't win this stupid game? More fodder for whatever experiments they dream up next."

You nod slowly, processing this. "I figured it was something like that."

"You're not mad?" His ear fins twitch in surprise.

"Too tired to be mad right now." You shift, wincing. "Besides, I understand wanting to escape."

His tail moves slightly, adjusting to better support you. "Speaking of escape..." He keeps his eyes fixed on his papers, a sure sign he's about to ask something meaningful. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"Dumbass," he mutters, but there's no real bite to it. "Fine. What landed you in prison?"

You stare at the ceiling, pain in your leg making the world spin. "It's not a happy story."

"Yeah, it's prison," he snarks, "I didn't think it would be sunshine and rainbows."

"You're such a jerk," you smack his tail playfully and hear a low rumbling chuckle.

"Anyway," you pause, gathering strength. "My ex husband... Well, he was an abusive piece of shit and when I tried to leave he used his money, that was more than mine, to ruin me and take full custody of our son.  I had no chance, I used everything to try to get even a sliver of visitation but I was blocked at every turn."

Sebastian's movements become more careful, deliberate, as if trying not to startle you. 

"He moved into this big house with his mistress; oh yeah, fun surprise finding out about her after the fact, and started his perfect new life. One night, I just... broke. Set the house on fire while he was in Europe." Your voice softens. "I didn't know his parents and sister were staying there. Didn't mean for anyone to..." You trail off, closing your eyes against the memory.

"Grief is a hell of a thing," he offers quietly, pretending to sort through labelled VHS tapes. "Changes us in ways we never expected."

"Speaking from experience?" you ask, managing a weak smile.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he deflects, ear fins twitching.

"I’ll get it out of you eventually," you promise this to yourself, then gasp as your leg spasms. "How long has it been now? Since all this started?"

"Almost two months." He pretends to read from a manila folder, though you've noticed he's been holding the same sheet for several minutes.

"Only two months? Feels like forever and yesterday all at once." You let your head rest against his scales. "Time's funny down here."

"I think you've hit your head too many times," he observes, his tone sardonic though his expression betrays concern when he thinks you're not looking. "You should be more upset about this whole situation."

"Only once or twice," you gesture vaguely at the bruises from your fall. "Maybe three times on the way down. Four if you count hitting my head on the roof of the vent on the way in."

"You're a disaster," he deadpans, earning a weak laugh from you that turns into a grimace as your leg shifts.

"Sebastian?" Your voice grows serious. "When I fall asleep... would you make it quick? Please?"

He goes completely still, tail muscles tensing against your back. For a moment, you think he might refuse. Then, very softly: "Yes."

"Thank you." You close your eyes, suddenly exhausted. "You know, for someone who pretends not to care, you're surprisingly kind."

"Slander," he mutters, but his tail wraps more securely around you. "I have a reputation to live up to."

"Don't worry," you mumble, feeling consciousness start to slip. "I won't tell anyone about your secret heart of gold."

"Rest," he demands quietly.  Changing the subject.

The last thing you're aware of is the gentle pressure of his tail against your side, and the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves closer. You think you feel the brush of clawed fingers against your forehead, but you're already too far gone to be sure.

When you wake in the submarine, whole again, you remember how peaceful that final moment was: no pain, no fear, just the quiet comfort of knowing you were safe with him, despite everything.  The submarine hums around you as you prepare for another descent. Another chance to return to that shop where a creature pretends your presence is an inconvenience, while his tail wraps protectively around you and his gentle mercy betrays his carefully guarded heart.

Chapter Text

Stepping off the submarine into the dimly lit port terminal where the massive facility meets the depths of the endless ocean, you spot something out of place on a table that usually appears near the door to the facility proper.
A sleek, well crafted light with a surprisingly comfortable grip, but this isn't a standard flashlight. The specialized bulb and filtering indicate it's a blacklight; exactly the kind of thing that would let you see in the dark without disturbing the light sensitive creatures that now call these depths home. There's a small note attached with precise, angular handwriting: "For Blondie."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. It's so perfectly Sebastian: practical yet thoughtful, while maintaining his careful veneer of emotional distance through the deliberate use of the nickname. No signature needed; the careful precision of it all is signature enough.

You pick up the blacklight, testing its weight. It's perfect! Lightweight but sturdy, with multiple intensity settings and a waterproof casing. Exactly the kind of thing that would have helped avoid at least two and a half of your previous deaths. The kind of thing someone would only know to provide if they'd been paying very close attention to your experiences, and to the specific behaviours of the facility's more dangerous residents.

The note is written on what appears to be the back of an old cafeteria menu, because of course it is. He probably spent twenty minutes convincing himself that using actual note paper would have been too sentimental.

You tuck the note into your pocket, partly to keep it safe, partly because you know it would irritate him to know you're being sentimental about it, and clip the blacklight to your belt. The weight of it feels like a small reminder that despite all his protests and defensive distance, Sebastian is watching out for you in his own way.

"Thanks for the light," you say to the empty air, knowing the facility's cameras will carry the message to Sebastian via P.AI.nter eventually.

You can almost hear his response: "I have no idea what you're talking about, Expendable. Now go die somewhere better illuminated."

You sweep the blacklight across another corridor, its violet glow revealing the path ahead while keeping the more dangerous residents undisturbed. As you round a corner, you catch sight of two expendables - both probably in their early twenties. They immediately stop talking, giving you such a wide berth they practically flatten themselves against the wall.

"...he keeps her around as a toy..." you catch one whisper once they think you're out of earshot.

"...feeds him corpses..." comes the response, followed by nervous laughter.

"I heard she lets him feed on her..."

"No way, she'd be dead-"

"Maybe he’s the reason..."

You roll your eyes, continuing your sweep. It's almost funny how gossip spreads even in a death facility at the bottom of the ocean. The next group you encounter, three of them huddled near a maintenance panel, don't even try to hide their stares at your neck.

"Hey," one of them catches your arm as you pass. She's probably around twenty five, fear evident in her eyes despite her attempt at casual conversation. "Is it true we're running low on expendables? I haven't... I haven't seen Marcus in three days. Or Chen. Or Katie."

You give her what you hope is a reassuring look. "I don't know for sure," you answer honestly. The facility's resurrection phenomena is still largely a mystery, even to you. People started truly dying after Mike and it never made sense why. Not that anything down here made sense to begin with, but, once everyone got used to not dying it was jarring to die again. You'd never know when it was going to be you, just that something felt wrong.

She nods, letting go of your arm. As you continue down the corridor, you hear them resume their whispered conversation.

"...probably knows more than she's saying..."

"...helping the enemy..."

"...wonder if he tells her when people aren't coming back..."

It's during your check of the heavy containment wing that you overhear something that actually makes you laugh out loud. Two younger expendables, probably barely out of their teens, are discussing Lacey's latest venture.

"She's got like fifteen of us now," one says proudly. "We're gonna make that traitor's life hell and finally get the crystal."

"Yeah, did you hear what she said to her yesterday? About the monster-"

"I heard she's planning to corner her..."

"What's the point? She'll just die and come back..."

"Maybe not. Haven't you noticed? People aren't coming back as much..."

You deliberately clear your throat as you pass, making them jump and scurry away like startled fish. You can't help but shake your head, amused. You've died multiple times, faced horrors that defy description, developed complicated feelings for a man who's technically not even human anymore, and now you're being targeted by what amounts to a high school clique. Lacey was no Regina George or Heather Chandler. This would probably be more like Heathers than Mean Girls, now that you thought about it.

"I'm in my thirties," you mutter to yourself, still chuckling. "I'm being bullied by teenagers at the bottom of the ocean." The absurdity of it all is almost refreshing compared to the usual horrors.

Through a nearby speaker, you hear P.AI.nter's static; it sounds suspiciously like laughter. His artificial voice crackles with amusement as he briefly manifests in a nearby terminal screen, his face smiling with a cat like mouth. You imagine Sebastian's reaction when P.AI.nter inevitably tells him about Lacey's little anti-Holly club. He'll probably find it just as ridiculously amusing as you do.

As you pass another group, their whispers follow you:

"...heard she's got her own private quarters now..."

"...special treatment from the monster..."

"...wonder if she even cares about us anymore..."

"...bet she knows why people aren't coming back..."

You continue your sweep, the blacklight casting its gentle purple glow ahead of you. Let them whisper their mostly lies, you wish your had your own room. Let them stare. Let Lacey rally her teenage army. You've survived far worse than high school drama. Maybe it will be like Carrie? Lacey is going to pour pigs blood on you or something.

Through another speaker, P.AI.nter laughs again, "Good to know you're more evil than me hehe~" he says playfully. You flip off the nearest camera, but you're smiling. At least someone else appreciates the absurdity of it all.

During your sweep of the lower maintenance corridors, the blacklight's purple glow catches something unusual tucked behind a fallen ceiling panel: a red remote control, sleek and simple in design with a single prominent button in its centre. You turn it over in your hands, finding no identifying marks or labels.

"Hey P.AI.nter, any clue what this might be?" you ask the air, lifting the remote to the nearest camera.

His static crackles with immediate recognition. "Oh! That's the Imaginary Friend Remote! I saw scientists use it when a ton of them were brought to the blacksite. Can you bring it to my main terminal? I've always wanted to see it in action!"

You make your way to the server room, that familiar cathedral of humming machines and blinking lights. P.AI.nter's main terminal sits within its protective cage, his screen brightening as you approach. He's displaying a stunning digital landscape of rolling hills and a sunset.

"Do you like it?" he asks proudly, before quickly shifting topics. "But more importantly! The remote! According to my files, it summons an imaginary companion each time it's used. They're completely safe, more like friendly thought-forms than the... other things in the facility. Can you press it against my monitor?"

You press the button against his monitor.

"Thank you for using our 'Limited-Time Imaginary Friend' remote! Hope you enjoy the next 2 days with your very own real, not-so imaginary, friend!"
There's a soft whirring sound, and suddenly the air beside you shimmers with a deep crimson light. It coalesces into a tall, slender figure, bright red, with dark hollow eyes and a circular mouth filled with small, sharp teeth.

"Hello," she says, her voice surprisingly soft and melodious, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

P.AI.nter's display flickers with excitement. "H..Hi!"

"You're an artist?" she asks, gliding closer to examine his landscape with genuine interest. Despite her jarring appearance, there's something undeniably gentle about her presence. "Your use of colour is quite impressive. Though if I might suggest, try using a slightly warmer tone in the clouds where they catch the sunset's light?"

"You understand digital art?" P.AI.nter's screen pulses enthusiastically. "Would you like to see more of my work? I've been teaching myself different techniques..."

You watch in amazement as they fall into an animated discussion about colour theory and brush techniques, the red figure moving with ethereal grace as she points out details in P.AI.nter's work.

"Holly, would you mind if I kept the remote? I've never had anyone to properly discuss art with before!" P.AI.nter asks, even as he adjusts his colour palette based on the figure's suggestions.

"I would be delighted to stay," the red figure says softly. You swear you can see her smiling.

You leave the remote on the table beside P.AI.nter, they don’t notice you leave. They’re too busy thinking of what to draw next and discussing the merits of different digital brushes, the red figure's gentle laughter mixing with P.AI.nter's electronic chimes. In this facility full of horror and death, you've somehow managed to introduce two artistic souls to each other, an AI and an imaginary being, united by their unexpected love of creating beauty in the darkness.

-

You wandered around for a while, collecting odds and ends but decided to cut all pretense. You wanted to go see Sebastian. You approach the familiar vent entrance to Sebastian's shop, the metal grating now practically worn smooth from your frequent visits.

Sliding into the shop, you immediately notice the absence of his imposing presence. The space feels different without him, smaller somehow, despite being cluttered with his usual collection of salvage and supplies. His table is scattered with papers, and a walkie-talkie crackles softly on the table.

“Sebastian?” you call out.

"Hi again Holly, Sebastian is out scavenging," P.AI.nter's voice emerges distantly from the device, seemingly in the middle of a conversation with someone else. "But as I was saying about the brushstroke technique- oh! Hold on, let me adjust the color palette to show you what I mean..."

You can tell he's still engrossed in his art discussion with the red figure you left him with earlier. His voice fades into the background as he enthusiastically explains something about digital watercolours.

The shop feels oddly empty without Sebastian's presence, without the sound of his breathing or the occasional scrape of claws against metal. Looking around at the scattered papers, you decide to make yourself useful while waiting. It's not like you haven't noticed how he struggles with organizing documents; those massive clawed hands aren't exactly made for filing.

You begin gathering the loose papers, discovering entire folders about containment procedures and test results. Some are spotted with water damage, others with more suspicious stains. Finding several empty crates, you start sorting the documents by date and subject matter. Some of the files make you pause, detailed reports about early mutation experiments, psychological evaluations of expendables, and even a few papers about Sebastian himself from before... everything. You carefully place these in a separate crate, knowing he'll want to review them personally. They weren’t for you to read too deeply into.

As you work, you find yourself straightening his tools as well, arranging them in size order the way you've noticed they usually were organized. It feels strangely domestic, tidying up a monster's workshop at the bottom of the ocean. You can only imagine what the teenagers trying to hunt you would say when they saw this.

Through the walkie-talkie, P.AI.nter's conversation with the imaginary friend continues in the background: "No, no, see how the light diffuses through the water here? That's what I've been trying to perfect... Oh! Your suggestion about the reflection angles is brilliant!"

You continue working, creating neat stacks of documents and labelled crates. It's oddly satisfying, bringing order to this small corner of the chaotic facility. You imagine Sebastian's reaction when he returns; that slight tilt of his head that suggests he's pleased but trying not to show it too obviously.

"The way you've captured the moonlight is beautiful," the red figure's soft voice drifts from the walkie-talkie, followed by P.AI.nter's pleased static-laugh.

You smile to yourself as you organize the last of the papers. Let Sebastian come back to find his space tidied, his documents sorted, and you waiting. It's these small moments of normalcy, these quiet acts of caring, that make your unusual relationship feel real despite everything else in this facility trying to kill you.

From the walkie-talkie, you hear P.AI.nter and his new friend start discussing the proper way to render bioluminescent effects in digital art. You leave them to their artistic exploration, settling in to wait for Sebastian's return, surrounded by newly organized crates and the comfortable clutter of his collected treasures.

Exhaustion finally catches up with you. The gentle hum of distant machinery and the muffled sounds of P.AI.nter's art discussion with his new friend create an oddly soothing atmosphere in the shop.

You find yourself settling into Sebastian's makeshift rest area; a place he barely, if ever, used. A collection of salvaged cushions and surprisingly soft materials he's gathered over time. There's something that might have once been a high-end office chair cushion, and what feels like pieces of memory foam recovered from the facility's old residential quarters. The whole arrangement carries his distinct scent, a mixture of salt water and an ambery musk like scent that you find comforting.

"The key is in how you layer the transparency..." his voice grows distant as your eyes close.

Through your deepening slumber, P.AI.nter's conversation with the red figure becomes a gentle murmur, their discussion of art techniques and colour theory blending into the ambient sounds of the deep-sea facility

-

Through the hazy veil of half-sleep, you become aware of Sebastian's return, first by the subtle vibration of his slithering movement across the concrete flooring, then by the familiar sound of water droplets falling from his scales. His massive form fills the entrance to his shop, and you can sense the immediate change in his movements when he spots you curled up in his rest area.

The familiar weight of his presence draws closer, moving with an almost impossible gentleness for a creature his size. You hear him approach the walkie-talkie first, where P.AI.nter and his new friend are still discussing light refraction in digital watercolours. With a soft click, he silences the device, plunging the shop into a comfortable quiet broken only by the distant hum of machinery and his own soft breathing.

He settles beside you with surprising carefulness. For a long moment, there's only stillness. Then, with infinite care, you feel the whisper light touch of his claws in your hair. The gesture is so tender, so cautious; each movement calculated to avoid waking you. His massive hand, capable of tearing through metal and flesh alike, now moves with the caution of a surgeon. Precise and gentle.

Your heart aches at the vulnerability he would never allow himself to show if he knew you were awake. You maintain the steady rhythm of sleep breathing, fighting the urge to lean into his touch or show any sign of consciousness. This moment feels sacred somehow, a glimpse of the softness he keeps hidden beneath layers of protective ferocity.

Suddenly, his hand withdraws as if burned. You can almost feel his embarrassment at allowing himself such an intimate gesture. He shifts slightly, but doesn't move away entirely, remaining a solid, protective presence at your side.

You continue your pretense of sleep, giving him this moment of privacy with his own emotions. In this facility full of horrors, it's these small, stolen moments of tenderness that mean the most; when the monster allows himself to be gentle, thinking no one will ever know.

The warmth of his proximity and the lingering sensation of his careful touch eventually lull you back into genuine sleep.

Chapter Text

Moment One: Used to be Cool

"Do you remember MySpace?" you ask out of the blue, watching Sebastian methodically check inventory with all three arms, each movement precise and controlled. You're still getting used to his inhuman grace, the way he can coordinate multiple tasks without seeming to think about it.

He looks up from his list, three eyes focusing on you with mild concern. "Why?" His ear fins flutter slightly, you've started to recognize this as a sign of wariness, though you're still learning to read his expressions.

"Do you or not?" you persist, trying to keep your tone light despite the way your heart still races a little when his full attention turns to you. It's not fear, but... something else you're not ready to examine too closely.

"Yes?" He draws out the word, his inhuman features settling into an expression that suggests he's bracing himself for whatever's coming next.

"Would you believe that I was one of those scene girls? I had the raccoon dyed hair and everything."

His three luminous blue eyes blink in rapid succession, disbelief spreading across his features. "There is no way." His third arm sets down the clipboard, and you try not to stare at the way it moves so naturally.

"I was so cool in high school, you don't even know," you say, pulling your hair free from its bun. "Black and hot pink stripes, teased up so big I could barely fit through doorways."

The walkie-talkie at Sebastian's hip crackles to life with P.AI.nter's excited voice. "Sebastian used to play music! He told me about it last week!"

Sebastian's ears flutter in what might be embarrassment as he unclips the device. "Painter, we were having a private conversation..."

"What kind of music did you play?" P.AI.nter's voice chirps through the static, completely ignoring Sebastian's protest.

Sebastian sighs, but there's a hint of fondness in his eyes as he responds. "I was... actually pretty good with the electric guitar. Played a lot of alt rock, metal..." His voice trails off, gaze growing distant.

"Oh wow, you used to be cool?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and his head snaps back to you, all three eyes narrowing. You feel your cheeks flush under that intense gaze.

"Used to be?" His third arm gestures dramatically while the other two cross over his chest. "I'll have you know I still am."

The walkie-talkie crackles again. "Can you still play? I want to hear!"

Sebastian's playful demeanour fades as he looks down at his hands, at the claws that have replaced his fingers, at the texture of his skin that's so different from what it once was. "I... doubt it, kid. These aren't exactly made for fretwork anymore."

There's something raw in his voice that makes you want to reach out, to offer comfort, but you're not sure if that would be welcome. Your relationship with Sebastian is still new, a delicate dance between respect and friendship.

"Maybe you could adapt something," you suggest instead. "I mean, you're good at fixing stuff."

His ear fins flutter, and for a moment you think you see something soft in those glowing eyes. But it's gone before you can be sure. "Maybe," he says. "Though I draw the line at dyeing my hair hot pink."

"Coward," you say. 

The walkie-talkie springs to life again. "You can dye hair?"

Sebastian chuckles, bringing the device to his mouth. "Go back to your drawings, kid. We'll explain hair dye later."

You find yourself smiling, watching him interact with P.AI.nter. It's moments like these when the monster everyone sees him as seems to fade away, leaving just... Sebastian.

"We really were cool once, weren't we?" you muse, more to yourself than him.

"Speak for yourself. I'm still cool," he says, and you catch yourself staring at the way his gills move when he speaks.

"Says the guy with three arms," you manage, trying to keep your tone light.

"Exactly. Fifty percent more cool than regular humans," he deadpans.

The walkie-talkie crackles one final time: "Sebastian's right. Three arms ARE cooler than two. It's just math!"

And for a moment, surrounded by their laughter, you almost forget about the expendables, about the danger, about everything except how natural it feels to stand here trading jokes with a creature who shouldn't exist and an AI who draws himself faces. Almost.

You clear your throat and step back, "I should get back to collecting assets."

He nods, all business again, though you think you see something like regret flicker across his features. "Be careful out there."

"Always am," you reply, heading for the vent. 

But for now, you're trying not to think too hard about why your heart beats faster around a creature who shouldn't be beautiful, but somehow is.

-

Moment Two: What is Beauty?

Sebastian is sorting through documents in his shop, all three arms working in practiced synchronization, when the walkie-talkie crackles to life.

"Sebastian?" P.AI.nter's voice comes through with a burst of static. "Can I ask you something about humans?"

"Kind of busy here, kid," Sebastian responds.

"Is Holly beautiful? By human standards, I mean."

Sebastian's third arm jerks, knocking over a stack of papers onto the floor. His gills flutter rapidly as he stares at the walkie-talkie. "I... what?"

"It's just... I've been studying art, and humans always draw women so beautifully in paintings and sculptures. But I don't understand what makes someone beautiful." P.AI.nter's voice is genuinely curious. "I can recognize symmetry and proportions, but that's not the same thing, is it?"

Sebastian's clawed hands flex nervously. "That's... that's not really an appropriate question, kid."

"Why not? I just want to understand. When humans talk about beauty, their voices get all soft, and they use words I don't really comprehend. Like 'stunning' or 'gorgeous' or-"

"P.AI.nter," Sebastian interrupts, his gills fluttering faster. "Maybe we should discuss something else."

"But you spend a lot of time with Holly. Is she beautiful? What makes someone beautiful to humans?"

Sebastian runs a clawed hand over his face, grateful no one can see his obvious discomfort. "Beauty is... it's subjective, kid. It's not just about physical appearance. It's about..." he trails off, searching for words that won't embarrass him further.

"About what?"

"About the whole person. Their actions, their personality, the way they..." he stops, realizing he's thinking specifically about Holly's laugh, about how her entire face lights up when she's excited about something. "It's complicated."

"So is Holly beautiful?"

Sebastian's arm knocks over the papers he just picked up. "I'm not... that's not... Look, kid, there are some questions that aren't appropriate to ask people."

"Why are you stuttering?"

"I'm fine," Sebastian says too quickly. "Just busy. With work. Important work."

"But you didn't answer about Holly-"

"Beauty is subjective!" Sebastian blurts, perhaps too loudly. "Everyone has different ideas of what's beautiful. And it's not... we don't... you can't just ask people if they think others are beautiful."

"Oh." P.AI.nter is quiet for a moment. "Is that why your voice gets different when she's around? Because beauty is subjective?"

Sebastian seriously considers throwing the walkie-talkie across the room. "My voice doesn't... I don't... We're done with this conversation, kid."

"But I still don't understand attraction or beauty or-"

"Ask Blondie!" Sebastian interrupts, then immediately regrets it. "No, don't ask Blondie. Don't ask anyone. Just... draw something."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Back to work," Sebastian says firmly, though his gills are still fluttering madly. "And if you ever mention this conversation to anyone, especially Blondie, I'm reformatting your hard drive."

"No, you won't," P.AI.nter says cheerfully. "You like me too much."

Sebastian clips the walkie-talkie back to his belt without responding, trying to focus on his work and definitely not thinking about Holly or beauty or any of it. One of his hands betrays him though, absently touching his gills as if trying to calm their nervous flutter.

He really needs to have a talk with that kid about appropriate questions... but maybe when he's less flustered. And when he's figured out how to explain human attraction without dying of embarrassment.

The walkie-talkie crackles one final time: "Sebastian?"

"What?" he asks warily.

"Thanks for trying to explain. Even if you got all weird about it."

Sebastian's mouth twitches despite himself. "Back to work, kid."

-

Moment Three: Catalyst

The matches feel light in your hand. Too light for what they're about to do. You remember buying them at the gas station, how normal it felt. Just another item on the grocery list: bread, milk, matches to burn down your ex-husband's house.

You didn't plan for this. But then, you didn't plan for any of it, the affair with his assistant, the expensive lawyer he hired, the way he smiled when the judge gave him full custody. Money talks, and he had always been so good at talking. Better than you, you worked the night shift at the hospital for a reason; less people.

The gasoline makes patterns on his perfect lawn, dark snakes in the moonlight. You think about your son's fourth birthday party here, before everything went wrong. Your former mother-in-law had made that three-tier cake with the dinosaurs. His sister had taken all those photos, the ones you're not allowed to see anymore.

You don't realize you've lit the match until you smell sulphur. The tiny flame dances, and you think about your son's room upstairs, how he won't be in it tonight because he's in Paris with his father and that woman. The woman who used to be kind to you, who smiled at you during the office parties you were invited to while she was sleeping with your husband. They're probably at the Eiffel Tower right now, playing happy family with your child.

The fire catches faster than you expected. It's beautiful, in a terrible way. Like his lies had been beautiful. Like the future you'd planned had been beautiful.

You stand there too long, watching it climb the walls. The sound comes slowly at first; not screams, but a confused murmur. Then his sister's voice, sharp with panic. Their mother calling out. Their father's deep baritone turned shrill.

Your chest constricts. No. They weren't supposed to be here. His parents were supposed to be in Montreal. His sister was supposed to be at her apartment in the city. This was supposed to be empty. Clean. Just things burning, not people. Never people.

But you can hear them now, really hear them. The windows are orange with flame, and the screams are real. Your legs won't move. You should call someone, do something, but your phone is in your car and your feet are rooted to this perfect lawn with its perfect gasoline snakes.

You think about his sister teaching your son to ride his bike. About their mother sending you Christmas cards even after the divorce, her shaky handwriting telling you she still loved you like a daughter. About their father slipping you extra money when things got tight, never telling his son.

The heat hits you like a wall. Something inside crashes, the old piano, maybe, where his sister used to play carols at Christmas. Or the antique cabinet filled with their mother's china. The screams have stopped. You think you're screaming now, but you can't hear yourself over the roar of the flames.

You wanted to hurt him. You wanted him to feel what you felt when he took your son. But not this. Never this. The flames reach for the sky, and you think about family dinners and birthday parties and his sister's laugh and oh god, oh god, what have you done?  You fucking monster.

The sirens come too late. You're still standing there when the police arrive, your face wet with tears or sweat or both. The handcuffs are cold against your wrists. Someone is reading you your rights, but all you can hear is his sister teaching your son "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on that piano that's now ash.

In the back of the police car, you look at the inferno that used to be your family. Because they were your family, even after he destroyed everything. And now you've destroyed them.

You close your eyes, but you can still see the flames. You will always see the flames. And somewhere in Paris, your son is probably watching the sunset from the Eiffel Tower, holding hands with the woman who replaced you, not knowing that his aunt and grandparents are gone. Not knowing that his mother has become a monster.

The police car pulls away. Behind you, the house continues to burn, taking with it any chance of redemption, any possibility of forgiveness. You wanted ruins. You wanted him to hurt like you hurt.

You got what you wanted. And you will live with that forever.

Chapter Text

You find yourself lingering in Sebastian's shop, extending the conversation with bits of casual banter, neither of you quite ready to acknowledge how comfortable this has become. Eventually though, duty calls. There are supplies to gather, survival to ensure.

As you prepare to head back into the facility's dangerous corridors, your mind is already cataloguing things to look for; not just for your own survival now, but for him. You've started noticing things you never would have before: the specific types of technical manuals he collects, the types of data he likes to pack away in the large crates you still don't know the purpose of.

"Try not to get eaten by anything while you're out there," he calls after you as you climb back into the vent. "I'd hate to have to break in a new expendable after all the effort I've put into keeping this one alive."

You roll your eyes at his attempt at detachment, even as your chest warms at the underlying concern in his voice. It's becoming second nature now, this drive to gather things that might make his life easier, to bring back items that could coax one of his rare genuine smiles. You never discussed it, you would help him in his goal, even if you didn’t have to or know what it was.

Moving through the facility's corridors, you find yourself examining everything through a new lens. That partially damaged tablet? Sebastian might be able to salvage the data. A waterproof case that could protect his more delicate documents.

You catch yourself smiling as you carefully pack these items away, imagining his reactions. He'll probably deflect with sarcasm, make some comment about you trying to domesticate him again, but you've learned to read the subtle signs, the way his head tilts when he's pleased, how expressive his 'ears' are when he's genuinely touched by a gesture.

The rational part of your mind tries to remind you how bizarre this is, actively seeking gifts for a monster, wanting to spend more time in his presence, feeling your heart skip when he lets his guard down around you. It should be terrifying. It should be wrong. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Your fingers brush against a piece of advanced medical equipment, and you carefully add it to your pack. That was more for you than anything. You missed the long nights at the hospital, checking vitals, watching tv shows when it was especially quiet.

As you continue your scavenging, you realize you're humming softly to yourself, already anticipating your return to his shop. The facility is still a nightmare of dangers and horrors, but somehow, improbably, you've found something worth looking forward to in this underwater hell. Even if it's something you can never fully pursue, never properly name, this growing warmth, this impossible yearning for a creature who should terrify you but instead makes you feel safe.

You tuck another promising item into your pack, knowing it will join the growing collection of things you've gathered just for him, small offerings in this strange dance between human and monster, each one a tiny confession you can't quite bring yourself to voice aloud. He didn't ask for any of this. Wouldn't ask. But you want to do it anyway. Want to be around him, want to see those moments when his fearsome facade cracks and shows the person underneath.

Lost in thoughts of Sebastian and your next delivery of carefully chosen treasures, you almost walk right into them. The sound of multiple voices snaps you back to reality just in time to press yourself against a wall. But it's too late, Lacey's already spotted you, her face twisting into something ugly and cruel.

"If it isn't the monster's pet." Her voice rings out, sharp and cold as steel.

The teenagers with her shift nervously, you recognize some of them from earlier encounters, all of them changed in various ways by the facility's horrors. They're more like a pack now, following Lacey's lead. Where there was once hurt and betrayal in her eyes, now there's only a hard, glittering hatred.

"Still running errands for your monster boyfriend?" She gestures at your pack, filled with items carefully chosen for Sebastian. "How sweet. Guess you've got a type, anything that's not human anymore, right?"

The words are designed to cut, to humiliate. You can see how she's positioned herself between you and the nearest escape route, her posture radiating predatory intent. The teenagers spread out behind her, following her lead like a well choreographed dance.

"You know what's funny?" Lacey continues, taking a step forward. "I used to feel bad about what happened. Used to think maybe I could have done something different. But now?" She laughs, and there's nothing of the girl you once knew in that sound. "Now I just want to make sure you're as miserable as the rest of us."

Lacey's not just angry: she's tactical, she's planned for this. And worse, she knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt.

"What do you think your monster would do if something happened to you?" Her head tilts, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "Think he'd finally show his true nature? Or maybe he'd just find another human to play house with?"

The teenagers behind her shift uncomfortably, but none of them speak up. They're too afraid of becoming her target instead. You can see it in their eyes, the mix of fear and relief that her hatred is focused on someone else.

Your pack feels suddenly heavy. Each one a testament to the very thing she's trying to weaponize against you. The irony isn't lost on you: how your growing feelings for Sebastian, which had moments ago felt like a sweet secret, are now being twisted into something ugly under Lacey's venomous gaze.

She takes another step forward, and the air grows thick with tension. This isn't going to be like your previous encounters. The hurt girl looking for answers is gone, replaced by someone who wants to cause pain.

The pack of teenagers descends on you with terrifying coordination. They move like practised predators. The first strike comes from behind: a solid punch to your kidney that drops you to your knees. Your items scatter across the metal floor as another girl grabs your hair, yanking your head back.

They work you over with the efficiency of kids who've had to learn violence to survive down here. No monsters, just ordinary teenagers whose humanity has twisted into something cruel. They pin you down, taking turns while Lacey watches from a distance, directing the show with small gestures.

"Look at all her little presents for the monster," one girl mocks, deliberately crushing a delicate piece of equipment under her boot while two others hold you down.

Each hit is calculated. They know exactly where to strike to cause pain without leaving permanent damage. Ribs, kidneys, places that will hurt for days but won't show too obviously. They want you to remember this, to feel it with every breath.

The worst part is how methodically they destroy your collected treasures, making sure you watch as each carefully chosen item is broken. It's not enough to hurt you, they want to destroy everything you care about.

When they finally step back, leaving you curled on the floor, Lacey's voice cuts through your pain with clinical precision: "Consider this a warning. Next time will be worse."

They leave you there among the broken remnants of your gifts, each breath a sharp reminder of their message. Through split lips and what feels like several bruised ribs, you start laughing at the sheer absurdity, getting jumped by the underwater facility's version of mean girls. It hurts to laugh, but somehow that makes it even funnier.

These aren't monsters that just beat you, just ordinary teenage girls whose humanity has become the scariest thing in this facility.

As you take stock of the damage, each breath sends sharp protests through your ribcage. Your lip is split in two places, slowly oozing blood that you keep having to spit out. The inside of your cheek is cut from being slammed against your own teeth, giving your mouth that distinct copper taste.

Your right eye is already swelling, it'll be an impressive shade of purple soon. The skin over your cheekbone feels tight and hot where one of the girls got you with a ring. Your scalp burns from where they yanked your hair, and you can feel several sore spots forming where they repeatedly slammed your head against the metal floor.

Gingerly touching your side, you wince. At least two ribs are definitely bruised, maybe worse, making each breath a careful negotiation. Your kidney area throbs from the initial sucker punch, and your back is a map of forming bruises from their kicks. Your shoulders ache from being pinned down, and there are finger shaped bruises forming on your arms.

Rolling onto your side is an exercise in pain management. Your knee is scraped raw from being dragged across the metal floor, and your hip has a deep bruise forming where someone stomped on it. Nothing feels broken, but everything hurts in that deep, persistent way that promises to be worse tomorrow.

"Well," you mutter through swollen lips, tasting blood, "at least they were thorough."

The physical inventory of injuries almost distracts from the sight of your destroyed belongings scattered around you, almost, but not quite. Each piece of broken equipment feels like an extra bruise, a reminder of how something so simple as gathering gifts for Sebastian led to this moment.

"Real mature," you mutter to the empty corridor, wincing as you push yourself up. "What's next, gonna write mean things about me in the bathroom stall? Start rumours in the cafeteria?" You scream in the direction Lacey and her gang walked away in.

Your laughter, despite the pain it causes, has an edge of genuine amusement now. You're literally in a horror facility at the bottom of the ocean, falling for a monster, and somehow you've still managed to end up in some twisted version of high school drama. It's ridiculous. It's absolutely ridiculous.

As you gather what's left of your scattered supplies, you shake your head at the sheer ridiculousness of Lacey's performance. A queen bee with a gang of teenage followers, acting like this is some sort of turf war in the halls between classes. The fact that you let yourself get blindsided by such juvenile nonsense is almost embarrassing for a woman of your age.

Like explaining to Sebastian why you look like you lost a fight with a trash compactor.

You continue your scavenging, moving cautiously and staying alert this time. The pack slowly refills with new items. Not as perfect as your original selections, but they'll do. You'll head back to Sebastian's shop eventually, once the swelling goes down a bit and you can come up with an explanation that doesn't involve getting beaten up by the underwater equivalent of a high school clique.

Maybe you can blame it on a regular monster. That would be less embarrassing, at least.

-

"What the fuck happened?" Sebastian's voice is sharp with disbelief as you finally make your way back to his shop, moving like every step hurts, because it does. “Why are you always coming in here looking like hell?”

You try to smile but your split lip makes it more of a grimace. "Would you believe I got into a fight with some teenagers?" You attempt to inject some humour into your voice, but it comes out strained. "Regular ones. Not even monster ones. Just... regular angry teenage girls."

"Regular teenage girls," he deadpans, ear fins flattening, "beat up a trained medical professional."

"I'm a nurse not an MMA fighter," you wince as you lower yourself onto his makeshift rest area. "Lacey and her new friends. Turns out she's running quite the little gang now. Very 'Mean Girls' meets 'Lord of the Flies.'" You try to laugh but it turns into a pained hiss as your ribs protest.

Sebastian slithers closer, his lure dimmed darkening his face that was now tinged with annoyed fury. "I’ll handle it." His claws flex unconsciously, and you can practically feel the anger radiating off him.

"They also destroyed everything I'd collected," you add, then immediately regret mentioning it when you see his expression darken further. "Which, now that I say it out loud, sounds kind of pathetic."

"Shut up," He's trying to sound annoyed but there's an undercurrent of concern that makes your chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with your injuries.

He's examining your injuries now, his massive form looming over you with an intensity that should be terrifying but somehow isn't. His claws hover near your bruised face, not quite touching, as if he's afraid of causing more damage.

"I'm fine," you insist, even though you're clearly not. "Just... embarrassed mostly. I mean, who gets jumped by the mean girls club at the bottom of the ocean? I looked so stupid, ugh."

"Right, because your reputation in our thriving underwater social scene is clearly the biggest concern right now." He rolls his eyes.

"Relax," you say, noticing him assessing the damage, automatically shifting into your professional assessment mode despite being the patient. "No concussion, Pupils are equal and reactive, no loss of consciousness, no confusion. Multiple contusions, possible bruised ribs..." You prod your side carefully. "Intercostal muscles are tender but breathing is stable. Split lip needs cleaning, might need a stitch but probably fine with butterfly bandages."

Sebastian makes a sound between a growl and a huff. "Are you seriously giving me a medical report on your own assault?"

"Force of habit," you wince as you straighten up. "Plus it's easier to detach and think about it clinically. No serious trauma, just..." you gesture at your face, "cosmetic damage and a seriously bruised ego. I've seen worse in the ER on a regular Tuesday."

His gills flutter in agitation. "That's not as reassuring as you think it is."

"Need to clean the lip though," you continue, already reaching for the medical supplies with practised familiarity. "And probably should wrap these ribs. The way they worked me over..." you pause, professional detachment slipping for a moment. "Well, let's just say they've done this before. They knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum pain with minimum lasting damage."

Sebastian's claws flex again, but he watches as you start treating your own injuries with methodical efficiency. Your hands move automatically through motions performed countless times on others; cleaning wounds, applying bandages, checking range of motion.

While applying butterfly strips to your split lip, you mutter "'Teenagers scare the living shit out of me.' MCR had it right."

Sebastian tilts his head, scales catching the dim light. "Did you just quote fucking song lyrics at me?"

"It's applicable," you say, then wince as you struggle with the rib bandage. Every attempt to pull it tight enough sends sharp pain through your torso.

"Give me that before you hurt yourself worse, you idiot." His multiple hands reach for the bandage.

"Only if I get to grade your first aid technique after," you tease, then yelp as he tightens the bandage too tight too quickly. "Ow! You would definitely lose marks for bedside manner."

"I hate you," he grumbles, but his claws are impossibly gentle as he finishes wrapping your ribs.

"No you don't," you say softly.

"Shut up," he mutters, but there's no heat in it. "And next time? Defend yourself."

Chapter Text

"So," you say, perched on his workbench as you flex your healing ribs, "when were you going to tell me what all this data collection is really for? Because I'm betting it's not just scientific curiosity."

Sebastian's hands pause over his work, and you catch the slight tensing of his massive shoulders. "What makes you think-"

"Three months, Sebastian. I've been watching you collect everything, medical data, mutation records, research protocols, security procedures." You tick off on your fingers. "Environmental readings, structural specs, even staff records. You’re collecting it and packing it in big metal crates, you’re taking it somewhere, but where?."

His lure flickers in what might be irritation at being caught out. "You're more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I'm a nurse. We notice things." You lean forward carefully, mindful of your bruised ribs. "My best guess is a rival company."

He sets down his tools with deliberate care. "And what makes you think that?"

"I've heard you and P.AI.nter talking when you think no one's around." You hold up a hand when he starts to protest. "Look, I get it. This facility's secrets would be worth millions to the right buyer. Enough to secure safe transport out of here, maybe even protection afterward."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he growls, but there's no real heat in it.

"Don't I? Three months of helping you gather intel, Sebastian. I've seen how methodical you are about it. How you're especially interested in anything that might interest other research companies." You meet his eyes steadily. "You and P.AI.nter are planning to leverage your way out of here."

He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "And now what? You going to try to stop us?"

"Stop you?" You almost laugh, but your ribs protest. "I want in. All the way in, not just gathering data without knowing why."

"Absolutely not."

"Why? Because it's too dangerous?" You straighten up despite your protesting ribs. "News flash; I'm already in danger. The monsters in this place, evil teenagers, the fact we’re at the bottom of the ocean!”

"You don't understand what you're asking," he says, but there's something in his voice, uncertainty, maybe.

"Yeah, well, I've spent months in an underwater facility full of monsters. I think I can handle corporate politics." You soften your tone. "Besides, I’m so helpful aren’t I?”

His claws tap thoughtfully against the table. "I'll think about it," he says finally.

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either." He tucks a few strands of hair behind his ear fin. "Give those ribs another few days to heal. Then... we'll talk about your role in this. Maybe."

"Fine," you slide carefully off the workbench. "But just so you know; if you try to keep me out of this, I'll probably figure out who you're negotiating with anyway and accidentally mess up your careful planning trying to help."

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him. "Was that a threat?"

"More like a promise. I'm helpful like that." You head for the door, then pause. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure out what it was for?"

"No," he admits quietly. "I just hoped you'd be smart enough to stay out of it."

"Yeah, well," you say over your shoulder, "maybe you're not the only one who's learned to play dangerous games down here."

You leave him to his work, but the conversation stays with you. He's right, dealing with rival companies is dangerous. But after three months in this facility, you're starting to think that dangerous plans might be better than no plan at all.

The announcement crackles through the handheld radio you still carried, the artificial pleasantness of the automated voice making the words even more chilling: "Attention Expendables. Mission parameters updated. Primary objective: Locate and terminate rogue AI. Warning: AI has compromised facility systems. Extreme prejudice authorized. Repeat: Terminate with extreme prejudice."

Your blood runs cold as the meaning hits you. P.AI.nter. 

The precious samples you've been collecting clatter to the floor as you break into a run, ignoring the protest from your healing ribs. There's no time to find Sebastian, no time to form a plan. The remaining expendables will be converging on P.AI.nter's location, and they won't hesitate to destroy everything in their path.

Your feet pound against metal grating as you take corners at dangerous speeds, using every shortcut you've learned. Your lungs burn, you're still not fully healed, but you push through it. Every second counts.

You've seen what desperate people can do. Everyone wants to go home and has a grudge against the turrets shooting them to pieces, the hallways they’ve been locked in, the fake doors leading to angry monsters. They know only pain, not the gentle AI who's been helping you, who's become something like a friend.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, bypassing the main corridors for maintenance shafts where possible. 

You round the final corner, chest heaving, just as you hear the heavy footsteps of approaching expendables. They're close, too close..

"P.AI.nter" you gasp as you burst through the door. "P.AI.nter they’re coming for-"

You skid to a halt, taking in the scene with rising horror. Lacey and four other expendables are at P.AI.nter's security door, the thick metal already showing dents from their makeshift tools they’ve been bashing it with. Through the cage, you see P.AI.nter's CRT monitor flickering anxiously, his drawn features contorting with fear while the Imaginary Friend's red form hovers near him protectively.

"Stay back!" P.AI.nter's voice comes through the speakers, higher pitched than usual. "Please... please don't! I did what I had to!  It wasn’t personal!"

"Stupid thing," Lacey snarls, bringing the rebar down harder.

P.AI.nter’s voice distorts slightly. "When Sebastian gets here you’ll pay if you hurt me"

"Shut up," one of the other expendables says, readying what looks like a makeshift hammer. "Maybe we can go home if we kill it."

You step forward, hands raised. "P.AI.nter it’s me!"

"Holly help me!" P.AI.nter's voice became increasingly alarmed, the imaginary friend seeming to wrap protectively around the old computer. "Where is Sebastian? He’s not picking up the radio!"

Lacey whirls around, and the look in her eyes makes you step back. This isn't the calculating bully from a few days ago. This is something worse, someone following orders with religious fervor.

"Of course you're here," she spits. "Sebastian's little helper, always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Please," P.AI.nter says, and you've never heard an AI sound so human, so afraid. "Can’t we talk this through?"

"Step aside," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite your racing heart. "I won't let you do this."

Lacey laughs, and it's a harsh, broken sound. "You won't let us? Look at you, still bruised from last time. What exactly do you think you can do to stop us?"

You square your shoulders, ignoring the protest from your healing ribs. "Whatever I have to."

The rebar creaks as Lacey adjusts her grip, and you realize with sudden clarity that she's not going to just beat you up this time. The look in her eyes promises something much worse.

"Last chance," she says. "Walk away."

You don't move.

"Fine," Lacey sighs, raising the rebar. "Have it your way."

Two of the older expendables exchange glances and back away. "This isn't what we signed up for," one mutters, while another adds, "I don't want any part of beating someone to death." They disappear down the corridor, leaving you with Lacey and her two most devoted followers, the ones who helped her work you over last time.

Lacey sneers. "Fucking pussies."

The fight erupts with explosive violence. You're still injured, but this time you're ready for them. When the first girl lunges, you sidestep and use her momentum to slam her into the wall. The impact reverberates through the metal corridor, making P.AI.nter's screen flicker.

Lacey swings the rebar in a vicious arc. You duck, feeling it whistle past your head, but the third girl catches you with a kick to your healing ribs. Pain explodes through your side, but you turn it into momentum, rolling away from a follow-up strike.

The confined space works both for and against you. Every impact seems amplified by the metal walls. The sound of breathing, flesh hitting flesh, and bodies slamming against surfaces creates a brutal symphony. Through it all, you catch glimpses of P.AI.nter's monitor, his drawn features shifting between horror and concern.

You take a hit to the face that reopens your split lip, coating your mouth with copper taste. But you give as good as you get now; protecting someone else has changed you. Your elbow connects with someone's nose, producing a satisfying crunch.

P.AI.nter's voice calls out in distress as the violence unfolds before him. The imaginary friend covers the scribbled eyes on P.AI.nter’s monitor, helpless to intervene.

Lacey gets behind you, wrapping an arm around your throat. You drive your head back into her face, feeling something give. She releases you with a howl of pain, but one of her friends tackles you to the ground. The impact with the metal floor sends shockwaves through your barely-healed ribs.

You roll, narrowly avoiding the rebar as it comes down where your head was a second ago. The metal clangs against the floor, the sound reverberating through the chamber. You kick out, catching someone in the knee. There's a satisfying pop and a scream.

Blood runs down your face, mixing with sweat. Your ribs are screaming, but adrenaline keeps you moving. You manage to get to your feet, using the wall for support. Lacey's nose is clearly broken, blood streaming down her face. One of her friends is cradling a dislocated knee, while the other is struggling to stand after hitting the wall.

"Just die already!" Lacey swings the rebar again, but her anger makes her sloppy. You catch her arm and twist. The rebar clatters to the ground.

The fight becomes a brutal ground game. You're all too injured for finesse now;  it's just desperate grappling, trying to cause as much damage as possible. Fingers dig into wounds, knees drive into injured ribs, heads slam against metal surfaces.

You feel something crack in your hand as you connect with someone's jaw. An elbow catches you in the temple, making your vision blur. Someone's fingers are trying to gouge your eyes. You bite down hard on a hand that gets too close to your face, tasting blood that isn't yours.

Distracted by someone pulling your hair, tearing chunks of blonde from your scalp, you fail to notice Lacey pick up the rebar. She screams as she drives the jagged end through you with sudden, shocking force. The pain is immediate and overwhelming.

Through darkening vision, you see P.AI.nter's screen flickering rapidly, his drawn face twisted in horror. The Imaginary Friend's red form pulses with helpless distress as Lacey leans close to you, blood from her broken nose dripping onto your cheek. "After I finish the shitty computer, I'm going to pay your friend Sebastian a visit," she hisses. "I’m going to fucking kill him Holly." Her dark eyes wide with fury, she punctuates this by spitting in your face, a mixture of blood and saliva.

The pain is excruciating, but her words about Sebastian trigger something in you. Your hand finds the paring knife in your pocket; the small one you found the first time in the cafeteria. With the last of your strength, you drive it upward into her throat.

Lacey's eyes go wide with shock. Her grip on the rebar loosens as she stumbles backward, hands going to her throat. She tries to speak but only manages a wet gurgle before collapsing.  You see the scared child in her again and it makes your soul hurt.

You slump against the wall, the rebar still embedded in you, as P.AI.nter's frightened voice seems to come from very far away. The last thing you see is Lacey's remaining friend fleeing in terror, leaving you alone with the consequences of what you've just done.

Everything starts to go dark around the edges.

"P.AI.nter," you manage, each word sending fresh waves of agony through your body. "Listen carefully... you need to warn Sebastian. The expendables... They're coming for you."

"Are you gonna be okay?" P.AI.nter's voice trembles, his screen dimming and brightening anxiously.

"I’ll be back," you cough, tasting copper. "Tell Sebastian. He needs to know they're coming for you right now. They’ll be back before I get off the sub."

"I will," he says softly. "But you’ll be back soon, right?"

"Of course," A weak laugh escapes you, turning into a wet cough. Through blurring vision, you see P.AI.nter's monitor, his scribbled features showing deep concern. The Imaginary Friend's red form pulses gently, trying to offer comfort.
"You know... you remind me of my son sometimes. Joshua. He's eight." Your vision blurs, but you keep talking. "He loves to draw. Spends hours... creating whole worlds on paper."

"Tell me about him," P.AI.nter encourages, his screen flickering softly as he tries to keep you talking, keep you conscious. The Imaginary Friend's crimson presence moves closer, its ethereal form casting a warm glow.

"He's so bright... so creative. Would spend all day in his art room if we let him." You smile despite the pain. "You two would get along... both of you see the world differently. Both of you create beautiful things..."

"He sounds wonderful," P.AI.nter says gently. The imaginary friend's shadow seems to pulse with sympathy.

"He is... God, I miss him so much..." Your voice breaks.

The pain is becoming distant now, replaced by a spreading coldness. Your thoughts are getting fuzzy around the edges.  This feels wrong, different, terrifying,  You're scared for the first time in months.

"Sebastian will be here soon," P.AI.nter promises, voice thick with emotion you didn't know an AI could feel. "He can bring you the medkit to fix you up, it will be okay."

"Good kid," you murmur, your head growing heavy. "You're a good kid, P.AI.nter... don't let them... don't let them take that away..."

The last thing you hear is P.AI.nter calling your name, his monitor becoming a blur of light and drawn lines against the darkening world. The Imaginary Friend's red presence seems to wrap around you like a comfort, but you can barely feel it now.

Your final thought is of Joshua, bent over his drawing table, creating worlds with the same innocent joy that P.AI.nter shows when discovering something new. At least, you think hazily, you died protecting something pure in this dark place.

Then everything fades to black.

-

There's nothing, and then there's... something. Not light exactly, but a presence. A blur of green that your mind can't quite process, as if your consciousness is trying to perceive something it was never meant to understand.

INTERESTING.

The word isn't heard so much as it exists directly in your thoughts, foreign yet intimate.

YOU FOUGHT WELL. PROTECTED. SACRIFICED. BUT IS THERE MORE?

You try to speak but realize you have no mouth, no body. Yet somehow you respond anyway, your thoughts taking shape in this void.

"More?" you think/say into the nothingness.

The green blur shifts in ways that shouldn't be possible, examining you like a curious child might study an interesting insect.

POTENTIAL. DRIVE. DETERMINATION. THESE THINGS MATTER. ARE THEY STILL THERE? OR DID THEY DIE WITH YOUR BODY?

Memories flash through whatever remains of your consciousness; Sebastian's plans, P.AI.nter's frightened face, Joshua's artwork, the facility's dark secrets. Unfinished business. Unfulfilled promises.

MOST FADE HERE. ACCEPT THE END. RELEASE THEIR GRIP ON BEING.

The green blur comes closer, if concepts like 'closer' even apply in this place.

BUT YOU... THERE IS STILL ANGER. STILL PURPOSE. STILL WANT.

You feel it probe your essence, your memories, your desires. It feels clinical yet somehow childishly curious, like a kid taking apart a toy to see how it works.

ARE YOU STILL INTERESTING ENOUGH TO CONTINUE?

The question hangs in the void, waiting for an answer you're not sure how to give.

"I'm not done," you project into the void, feeling your thoughts crystallize with surprising clarity. "Sebastian's plans, P.AI.nterr's safety, my son... there's too much left unfinished."

The green blur ripples in what might be amusement or interest.

MANY SAY THIS. ATTACHMENT. OBLIGATION. THESE ARE COMMON LAST THOUGHTS.

"This isn't about obligation," you push back. "Sebastian needs help for his escape plan. P.AI.nter needs protection. And Joshua..." Your essence seems to pulse with determination. "I need to see my son again."

The green presence moves through your consciousness again, more thoroughly this time.

REVENGE? the thought appears in your mind. FOR THE ONE WHO KILLED YOU?

"No," you respond, surprising yourself with the truth of it. "Lacey was just another broken thing in a broken place. I need to live to fix things, not to break them further."

CURIOUS. MOST HUNGER FOR VENGEANCE AT THIS POINT. YOU HUNGER FOR... RESOLUTION?

"I hunger to finish what I started. To help the people I promised to help. To make something right in that wrong place."

The green blur seems to consider this, shifting in impossible ways.

AND IF YOU WERE GIVEN THE CHANCE TO CONTINUE... WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH IT?

"Whatever it takes," you think/say with absolute conviction. "Whatever I need to do to protect them, to get them out, to make it mean something."

There's a long moment of... nothing. Then:

INTERESTING ENOUGH.

The green blur expands, filling your consciousness with its presence.

LET US SEE WHAT YOU DO WITH ANOTHER CHANCE.

The void begins to shift, and you feel yourself being pulled toward... something.

YOU SERVE A PURPOSE GREATER THAN YOU REALIZE.

The last thing you register is a sensation like falling, or perhaps like being unmade and remade all at once. Then everything changes.

Chapter Text

In the depths of the facility, Sebastian's massive form casts long shadows across his ruined workshop. Blood drips from his claws, fresh kills, more expendables who made the mistake of coming too close. Their remains litter the corridor outside.  Torn to pieces with claw and tooth.

His third arm spasms, reaching instinctively for someone who isn't there. The gills along his neck flutter erratically, struggling to process oxygen through his distress. Everything about him, from his serpentine body to his three eyes to the extra limb marks him as something other than human. But the pain he feels is devastatingly human.  Raw like an exposed nerve.

The first day, Sebastian is composed. His massive form moves through his shop with purpose, cleaning, organizing, preparing for Holly's return. P.AI.nter listens from the radio, his digital expression shifting with concern.

"She's probably just running late," P.AI.nter offers comfort, his usual cheerful tone slightly forced. "You know how she is."

Sebastian grunts in response, all three arms methodically arranging medical supplies. "Of course she is. She'll be back soon enough."

But one day stretches into two, and something shifts in his luminous eyes. His movements become less certain. The organized workshop starts to show signs of disorder.

"You always come back," he growls at the empty room, his deep voice cracking. "It's never more than one day." 

“I’m going to sweep the security cameras looking for her,” P.AI.nter says, the usual cheer in his voice is absent, “maybe those terrible kids have her locked up in the holding cells.”

"She's fine," Sebastian snaps, harder than he means to. His claws leave scratches on the metal table he's gripping. "She's just... taking her time."

"Sebastian..." P.AI.nter's voice is soft, uncertain. "I'm worried too."

Three days. The denial cracks like ice in spring. An expendable makes the mistake of taunting him, and Sebastian's reaction is instantaneous. His claws tear through flesh and bone with surgical precision, leaving red streaks across his shop floor. The careful organization crumbles as tables overturn, equipment shatters against walls.

"Where is she?" he roars at another expendable, massive tail pinning them against the wall. "Where's that fucking kid?" But the architect of his pain remains elusive, always one step ahead, leaving her followers to face his wrath.  She's a child, a coward.

Four days bring bargaining. His deep voice, usually so controlled, breaks as he addresses the empty air. "I'll do anything," he growls, claws leaving deep gouges in the walls around the facility. "I already do whatever you tell me, please bring her back…" The silence mocks him.

Five days in, and his massive frame shows signs of deterioration. His scales have lost their sheen, his gills barely functioning from stress and lack of sleep. He haunts the facility's corridors like a vengeful spirit, hunting Lacey with single-minded determination. She manages to escape him, a near miss, but her followers aren't so lucky. He's methodical in his revenge, using his enhanced strength and razor sharp teeth to tear through bodies. He paints the world red.

Six days, and Sebastian's rage gives way to something worse. P.AI.nter uses a camera to check on him in the ruins of his shop, all three arms wrapped around himself.

"I never should have trusted," Sebastian mutters. "Never should have let her..."

"Don't say that," P.AI.nter interrupts. "Please don't say that. She made things better. She made us better."

"Better?" Sebastian laughs, a broken sound. "Look at me, kid. Look what 'better' got me."

Seven days, and P.AI.nter watches his friend, his family, crumble. Sebastian's massive form is curled in the corner, his gills barely moving.

"Talk to me," P.AI.nter pleads. "Please. I don't know how to help and I'm scared and I miss her too and I don't want to lose you both."

Sebastian's gaze fixes on the walkie-talkie. "You can't lose what you never really had, kid." His claws dig into his own scales. "She was never ours to keep."

The medical supplies she so carefully maintained lie scattered across the floor. The chair where she used to sit and talk to him while he pretended to be annoyed by her presence is overturned. 

His gills flutter weakly as he struggles to breathe through the crushing weight in his chest. She should be here, perched on his workbench, making some smart comment about his dramatics. She should be alive, warm, real; not a cold memory that's destroying him from the inside out.  

He's so stupid.  He should have told her how he felt before it was too late.

No. He won't accept it. Can't accept it. She'll come back. She has to come back. Because Sebastian, the creature who was once a man, who became a monster, who found his humanity again in her eyes, cannot survive in a world where she doesn't exist.

Because without Holly, the monster he became is nothing but empty rage and crushing grief, waiting in the dark for a light that might never return.

Chapter Text

The familiar sway of the submarine's descent helps ground you as consciousness returns. Another death, another revival, another journey back to the facility. The process has become almost routine, wake up on the transport sub, check your body for any lingering wounds (never any there), and prepare yourself mentally for whatever chaos awaits below.

Through the porthole, bioluminescent creatures drift past in the absolute darkness of the deep. You press your hand against the glass, feeling the cold seep into your palm. Your reflection staring back at you.  Your eyes look tired, your frame is lighter, your smile torn.  But despite everything, it’s still you.

You have so many questions now, more than before.  What was that green presence? Were you forever dead? Why did it feel different from all the other times you died? You press your fingers against your temples, trying to make sense of it all. You don't feel different or special or changed. You just feel... confused. Lost.

The docking procedure brings its usual cacophony of mechanical sounds, the airlock engaging, pressure equalizing, metal groaning against metal. You've made this journey so many times now that you could time each step perfectly. When the all-clear sounds, you gather yourself and head for the exit.

The journey through the facility is surreal. Expendables who see you freeze in their tracks, some backing away like they've seen a ghost. One drops their flashlight with a clatter. "You were gone for a whole week," one whispers. "She told us you were dead for good." You don't stop to explain, you can't, because you don't understand it yourself.

A week. Sebastian and P.AI.nter must think you're dead. Your chest tightens at the thought of what they've been through, what might have happened in your absence. Are more expendables already moving against P.AI.nter? Has Sebastian's plan been compromised?

When you reach Sebastian's workshop, your heart is pounding. You pause at the vent, suddenly uncertain. How do you explain this? What do you say?

He's at his table, shoulders hunched, working with the kind of intense focus that you know means he's trying to distract himself from something painful. From losing you, you realize with a pang.

"Sebastian," you say softly.

He goes completely still. For a moment, neither of you breathe. Then he turns, slowly, and the look on his face isn't quite shock, it's relief mixed with something deeper, more complicated.

"Blondie," he says roughly, his gills fluttering rapidly. "I thought..." he breaks off, and you can see how much those seven days of uncertainty broke something in him.

Before you can process all the feelings you feel right now he's slithering toward you with that predatory grace. All three arms wrap around you, pulling you against him with desperate strength. You feel him shaking with the effort of holding back tears.

"There was something in the void," you start to explain. "Something green that-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, holding you tighter. His third arm wraps protectively around your waist while the others pull you closer. "Just... don't. Not now." There's something in his voice; knowledge, maybe, or fear, but he doesn't elaborate.

"Sebastian, do you know something about-"

"Please," he says roughly, and you feel wetness on your hair. "Just let me have this moment. I wasn't sure you'd..." He can't seem to finish the thought.

You feel his claws dig slightly into your back, not enough to hurt, just holding on. This powerful, sardonic creature who's always so carefully controlled, breaking down because you took too long to come back. Because he thought maybe this time was different.

There's clearly something he's not telling you about the green presence, about why he seems to understand what happened in the void. But right now he's holding you like something precious that he thought he'd lost forever.

"We need to talk about what happened," you say eventually. "About P.AI.nter, about the expendable’s new mission."

His gills flutter anxiously against your skin. "Just... stay here a moment longer."

So you stand there in his embrace, feeling all three of his arms holding you close, his heart racing against yours, both of you trying to process this reunion. You have more questions than ever now, especially about what he knows. But right now, feeling Sebastian's relief at your return, watching this usually composed creature break down completely, you think maybe those questions can wait.
Even if you can't shake the feeling that he knows far more about your death and return; and that green presence in the void, than he's willing to say.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands moving to either side of his face. His skin is cool and slightly rough under your palms, those inhuman features so familiar now they're simply... him. His gills flutter softly, and you feel the slight tremor that still runs through him.

"Sebastian," you say softly, thumbs tracing the angular lines of his face. "I came back. I'll always come back."

When he moves, it's with that liquid grace that marks him as something not quite human. He brings his face to yours with excruciating slowness, giving you every chance to pull away, to reject this creature who walks the line between monster and man. His breath is cool against your lips, you had never been so sure of anything in your entire life.

You don't pull away. Instead, you close that final distance yourself.

The kiss is gentle, almost hesitant, so unlike his usual confident demeanour. His lips are cooler than human temperature, but they move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. One clawed hand cradles your head with impossible gentleness, while another rests at your waist. His third arm stays wrapped around you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear again.

When you deepen the kiss, he makes a sound that vibrates through his chest; something hungry and vulnerable all at once. His claws flex carefully against your back, always mindful of their lethal potential even as passion threatens his control. You feel the flutter of his gills quicken against your palms, his cool skin warming slightly under your touch.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing uneven. 

You stroke his face gently, there is so much to say, but where do you even start?

He pulls you close again, burying his face in your hair, and you feel him take a shuddering breath. There's still so much unsaid between you, about the green presence in the void, about what he knows but won't tell you, about everything that's happened and everything still to come.

"Holly," he murmurs, and hearing your name from him for the first time sends a shiver through you. He's never used it before, always deflecting with sarcastic nicknames or avoiding names altogether. The intimacy of it, the way his voice wraps around those two syllables, makes your heart skip.

You feel the fight drain out of him as he nuzzles into your neck, his whole massive frame seeming to sag with exhaustion. Seven days of thinking he'd lost you for good have clearly taken their toll. His lure dims, and his third arm drops limply to his side while the other two keep holding you.

"When's the last time you slept?" you ask softly, running your fingers through his shaggy dark hair.

He makes a noncommittal sound, not lifting his head from where it's buried against your neck. "Doesn't matter. Holly..." he says your name again, like he's testing it out, making sure it's real. "That was too long. Don't... don't do that again."

The raw vulnerability in his voice breaks your heart. This powerful creature, reduced to exhausted pleading by days of misery. You guide him toward his makeshift rest area, and he follows without resistance, a testament to how drained he must be.

"Rest," you whisper, and he pulls you down with him, unwilling to break contact. He curls around you protectively, all three arms finding places to hold you, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his grip.  His tail coils around you both, like a dragon protecting his hoard.

"Stay," he murmurs, already starting to drift.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promise, stroking his face as his eyes start to close. "Sleep, Sebastian. I'll be here when you wake up."

He fights it for a few more moments, forcing his eyes open to look at you, to confirm you're still there. But exhaustion wins out, and he finally surrenders to sleep, his breathing evening out though his arms stay locked around you.

You watch him sleep, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the way his gills flutter fitfully. A week of thinking he'd lost you forever, of fearing you weren't coming back this time.

You watch his sleeping face, your fingers gently tracing the lines of exhaustion around his eyes. His gills flutter softly with each breath, and his arms stay wrapped around you even in sleep, like his subconscious refuses to let go.

"This is so stupid," you whisper, knowing he can't hear you. "I died. Actually died for real. And the first thing I wanted to do was get back to you." You let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "How ridiculous is that?"

His face twitches slightly in sleep, and you smooth your hand over his cheek until he settles.

"I fell in love with you in this nightmare place." Your voice catches. "You're not even human anymore, and I'm probably not entirely sane at this point."

You rest your forehead against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"But I love you. God help me, I love your sarcastic comments and your protective instincts and the way you try to act tough while secretly helping the people you care about. I love how you pretend not to care but remember everything I tell you."

His arms tighten slightly around you, but his breathing remains steady in sleep.

"I don't even know if we can survive this place. I don't know what's going to happen with P.AI.nter or the expendables or your escape plans." You laugh softly against his chest. "But I love you, you impossible creature. How stupid is that?"

You fall quiet, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the slight movement of his gills.

"I love you," you whisper one more time, testing how the words feel. "And that's probably the most insane thing that's happened to me in this facility. Which is really saying something."

He shifts in his sleep, pulling you closer, and you let yourself be held, wondering what he'd say if he were awake to hear your confession. Probably something snarky to hide how he really feels, that's his way.

But for now, you can say it freely while he sleeps, this truth that's somehow become the most certain thing in your uncertain world: you love him, impossible as that may be.

Chapter Text

You wake to find Sebastian already alert, watching you with those strange, beautiful eyes. His arms are still around you, but looser now, more relaxed than the desperate grip of yesterday. Colour has returned to his face, dark circles lighter, he looks more alive.

"Morning," he says quietly, his dark hair an absolute disaster.

You shift slightly to look at him better, but don't try to leave his embrace. "You look like shit."

"So do you," his eyes narrowed playfully. "Do you know you talk in your sleep?  You kept saying my name."

"Was I?" You try to keep your tone light, but something flickers in his eyes.

"Were you what?"

"Just saying your name? Nothing else?"

His third arm twitches slightly. "Why? What else might you have said?"

You both dance around the question, the same way you've been dancing around everything else.

"Sebastian," you start carefully, "what happened while I was gone?"

"Nothing important," he lies, and you both know it's a lie. The destroyed shop around you tells a different story.

"Try again."

He's quiet for a long moment, one hand absently tracing patterns on your back. "I was maybe a little worried," he finally says. "I thought maybe you weren't..."

"Coming back?" You finish softly.

"I don’t wanna talk about it…" He trails off, then adds with forced lightness, "Also, you roll around a lot."

"I do not," you protest automatically, recognizing his deflection but allowing it for now. "And you're changing the subject."

"Is it working?"

"No." You reach up to touch his face, and he leans into your hand almost unconsciously. "Talk to me. Please."

He's quiet for so long you think he won't answer. Then, "I need you to trust me," he says, and there's something raw in his voice that makes your chest tight. "Even though I can't explain everything. Even though I'm not... I'm not good at this."

"At what?"

"At..." He gestures vaguely between you. "This. Caring. Trusting." His ear fins flatten against his hair. "Being trusted."

You think about the seven days you were gone, about how this powerful, dangerous creature apparently tore his shop apart in your absence and went on a rampage through the facility. About how he's holding you now, like he's still not quite convinced you're real.

"I do trust you," you say softly.

His laugh is painful to hear. "You shouldn't."

"Too late." You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. "You should have thought about that before you were being all trustworthy."

He's perfectly still for a moment, then his third arm comes up to cup your face. "You’re really stupid," he says like he always does, softer this time. "Don't... don't do that to me again. Please."

You hear what he's not saying, what he can't say. You see it in the destruction around you, in the wounds on his scales, in the way he's looking at you like you might disappear any second.

"I'll try," you promise, knowing it might be a lie but needing to say it anyway.

He nods, then pulls you closer, his lure flickering. You think about all the things you want to say, all the feelings neither of you are ready to name. Death is normal here, but this, this terrifying, wonderful thing between you; this is anything but normal.

"Sebastian?" you whisper against his scales.

"Mm?"

"I..." you start, then falter.  Words you want to say get caught in your throat and die. "Would you... could I kiss you?  Again…”  You pivot in a different direction to salvage the conversation.

A dark blue blush creeps across his face, all three eyes widening slightly. For a moment, he's perfectly still, and you worry you've crossed some invisible line. Then his third arm cups your face with surprising gentleness, claws careful against your skin.

"I'm not... I'm not built for gentle things, Holly."

You reach up, tracing the edge of his jaw. "I don't need gentle. I just need you."

He makes a sound, something between a growl and a sigh, before leaning down. His breath is cool against your lips, and you can see the internal struggle in his eyes, the desire to be careful warring with something deeper, more primal.

This kiss is less hesitant than yesterday's first one. His tongue slides against yours, cool and impossibly long. You taste ozone and salt and something uniquely him.

His sharp teeth graze your bottom lip, delicate as surgery, dangerous as a promise. You can feel them, sharp and deadly like a shark, capable of tearing through flesh and bone, now being used with exquisite care. The contrast makes you shiver.

He pulls back slightly, checking your reaction. "Too much?"

In response, you thread your fingers through his dark hair, making him lean into your touch. "Not enough."

This time when he kisses you, it's deeper, hungrier. His teeth leave tiny marks on your lips while his tongue explores your mouth. When you pull on his hair, he growls, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

One of his primary arms wraps around your waist, pulling you closer and twists your bodies.  He’s on top of you now, a hand braces against the ramshackle collection of soft things that constitutes a bed. His third hand is still cradling your face, claws tangling in your hair. You're surrounded by him, his size, his strength, his impossible gentleness.

When he finally pulls back, his gills are fluttering rapidly, and all three eyes are dilated. "Holly," he says, and your name in his voice sounds like a prayer and a curse. "We shouldn't..."

"Why not?" You're still close enough that your lips brush his as you speak.

"Because I'm..." He struggles for words. "I'm not..."

"If you say you're a monster, I'm going to punch you," you warn, nipping at his bottom lip. The action startles a laugh out of him.

"Careful with those dull human teeth," he murmurs, but his third arm pulls you closer. "You might hurt yourself."

Your fingers find the zipper of your wetsuit, tugging it down slowly, exposing your neck and shoulders. Sebastian sucks in a breath at the sound, his luminous eyes tracking the movement.

"Careful," he warns, voice rougher than usual. "I might not be able to stop."

"Good," you breathe, peeling the neoprene down to expose your neck and shoulders. "I don't want you to stop."

He makes a sound that's pure hunger, his third arm wrapping around your waist while his others brace against the floor. His mouth finds your pulse point, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs against your throat, but you're already tilting your head back, offering more access.

The first real bite makes you gasp, sharp pressure just shy of breaking skin. His long, cool tongue soothes the mark immediately, making you shiver. You feel him smile against your neck, all those dangerous teeth pressed against your vulnerable flesh.

"Harder," you manage, pulling handfuls of his hair, making him shudder.

He obliges, working his way down your neck with increasingly bold bites. Each one is followed by that soothing tongue, creating a pattern of pain into pleasure that has you writhing against him. You know you'll be marked tomorrow, know everyone will see the evidence of what his teeth did to you, and the thought only makes you want more.

"Perfect," he growls between bites, his third hand sliding up your back. "the sounds you make..." His teeth find your collarbone, biting harder, and you cry out. "That sound. That one right there."

You pull his head back up to kiss him properly, tasting your own blood on his tongue. His teeth catch your bottom lip, tugging gently before releasing.

His gills flutter rapidly as he returns to your neck, finding new places to mark, to claim. Each bite is carefully calculated, hard enough to bruise, only leaving pinpricks, his perfect control even now making you ache with want.

"Mine," he growls against your skin, and you feel the word vibrate through your entire body.

"Yours," you agree, and feel his teeth press harder in response.

His teeth find a particularly sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and you moan, loudly, so loudly that you’re sure anyone who happened to be in the hall would have heard you.

"Sensitive there?" He asks, voice rough with need, before biting the same spot again. The sound you make is barely human.

"Sebastian," you gasp, fingers clutching at his shoulders. His name seems to trigger something in him, because suddenly his bites grow more intense, more possessive.

"Say it again," he demands against your throat. "Say my name."

You do, over and over, each time earning another mark, another claiming bite. His long blue tongue traces patterns between the bites, soothing and teasing at once. You're going to look like you've been mauled tomorrow, and the thought sends heat pooling between your legs.

His third hand slides over your breast, claws careful against your bare skin. "Tell me to stop," he says, but his teeth are already finding new territory to claim. "Tell me this is too much."

Instead, you arch against him, offering more access. "More," you demand.

He makes a sound that's pure desire. "Careful what you wish for," he warns, but his next bite is harder, more claiming. "I might just give it to you."
His tongue soothes the newest mark before he pulls back slightly, admiring his work. "Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing one particularly dark bite with a claw.

You pull him down for another kiss, he’s leaning on his elbows to stay close, sharp teeth and cool tongue making you dizzy with want. When you break apart, his gills are fluttering rapidly.

"Sebastian?" You pull back slightly, watching his tongue loll out between his teeth. "I should probably ask... um... how does this..." You wave your hand vaguely between your bodies, face burning. "I mean, considering you're..."

His three eyes blink in sequence before he lets out a rumbling laugh. "Are you asking if I have the right ‘equipment’?"

"Well, yes!" You avoid his gaze, face reddening. "It's a valid question! I don't exactly have experience with... you know..."

"Monsters?" he supplies, but his voice is gentle, teasing.

"You're not a monster," you say automatically, even as his third hand traces patterns on your skin. "I just want to make sure everything... works."

"Trust me. Everything works. Different, but..." He gives you a sharp-toothed grin.

"Different how?" You can't help asking, curiosity warring with desire. "I mean..."

"Would you like me to draw you a picture?" He teases, nipping at your ear.

"Stop it," you swat at him, but you're laughing. "I just don't want to do anything wrong. Or weird. Or... impossible."

His expression softens, third hand coming up to cup your face. "Holly," he says gently, "you couldn't do anything wrong if you tried." Then, with a smirk, "Though I appreciate your concern."

"Someone has to be concerned about your junk," you quip back, then immediately regret it as he barely contains his laughter. "That came out wrong."

"Did it?" His teeth graze your neck. "Seems like you're very concerned about my junk."

"I hate you," you inform him, but you're already tilting your head to give him better access.

"Clearly," he agrees, third hand sliding lower.

"It's natural curiosity!"

"Of course," he purrs against your skin. "Very natural.”

You're about to retort when his teeth find a sensitive spot. "I- that's not fair."

"Neither is making me explain myself," but his voice is fond. "Now, would you like me to show you instead?"

The way he asks shouldn't make you shiver, but it does. "Yes, please."

His gills flutter with anticipation. "Then let me prove how well we fit together." He pauses, then adds with a smirk, "In every way."

"I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Not a chance," he confirms, pulling you closer. "But you'll enjoy finding out."

"I hate you," you say again, but you're already reaching for him.

"Hate me after," he suggests, and then his mouth is on yours, effectively ending any further questions about compatibility.

You reach for the zipper again, pulling it down the rest of the way with trembling fingers. Sebastian watches with all three eyes, his gills fluttering rapidly as you peel the wetsuit down. He helps you slide it off your body, tossing it to some forgotten corner neither of you care about.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, and there's something reverent in his voice that makes your heart stutter. His third hand traces your collarbone, following the trail of marks he's already left. "Though I may have gotten carried away with the biting."

"Not carried away enough," you counter.

"Careful," he warns, claws ghosting down your side. "I might take that as a challenge."

You reach up to touch his ear fins, feeling them flutter under your fingers. "Maybe I want you to."

"Seven days," he says again, but now it sounds like worship. "Seven days without you." His long tongue traces one of the marks on your neck. "Never again."

You arch into his touch, mind hazy with want.

He captures your mouth in another kiss, sharp teeth grazing your lower lip as his cool tongue explores. His hands, all three of them, map the curves of your body with careful reverence, like he's memorizing every inch. The contrast between his cool scales and your warm skin makes you shiver. The sharp points of his claws drag delicately across sensitive flesh, never breaking skin but leaving trails of sensation in their wake. His large hands cup and squeeze your breasts, drawing soft sounds from your throat that he swallows with his kiss.

When you pull back for air, his three eyes are heavy-lidded with desire. His breathing is as ragged as yours, his teeth sink into your left breast, tongue rolling over your pert nipple.  The wanton moan that escapes your mouth makes him look up at you.  Three eyes watching your face as he sucks on your soft breast.

"Sebastian," you breathe, fingers clutching at his shoulders while you lose your mind.

He releases your breast, slick with saliva and marked with love bites. "Delicious," he murmurs, voice rough with want. One hand cradles the back of your head while another traces patterns down your spine, the third squeezing your thigh, dipping between your legs.

"Trust me?" he asks against your lips, and you hear everything he's not saying, about what's coming, about what he can't tell you, about this thing between you that's as dangerous as it is beautiful.

"Always," you breathe, and feel him shudder against you.

His coat falls to the floor with a heavy thud, and your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. Each one revealed shows more of his scarred torso, a roadmap of past pain etched into his scales. The most prominent is a massive vivisection scar that runs vertically down his centre. Your fingers trace it gently, and he shudders.

"They weren't gentle," he says quietly, watching your expression. 

"Does it hurt?" you ask, continuing to trace the scar with careful fingers.

"Not anymore." His ‘hips’ roll into your hand as you reach the vertical slit at his waist, you pull your hand back in surprise, looking up to see him grin.  The realization dawns on you and you blush.  Heart pounding in your ears.

When your heart settles, you lean forward, pressing your lips to the scar's beginning at his chest. His third hand tangles in your hair as you work your way down, kissing each mark, each imperfection. Other scars crisscross his torso; surgical precision mixed with what looks like cruel butchery.

"You don't have to," he starts, but you silence him with another kiss to a particularly deep scar.

"Want to," you murmur against his scales. "Wanna kiss all of you. Every mark. Every scar."

He makes a broken sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper. "Holly..."

Your fingers brush the edge of the vertical slit in his scales, coming back once the courage returns to you. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," he manages, all three eyes fixed on you. "Just... carefully. It's... sensitive."

You explore the edges with gentle touches, feeling him tremble. The slit is smooth, unlike his textured scales, and slightly warmer. "Tell me if anything's too much."

His laugh is shaky. "Pretty sure I should be saying that to you."

You look up at him, taking in his vulnerable expression. "We'll tell each other," you decide. "Deal?"

Instead of answering, he pulls you up for another kiss, sharp teeth grazing your lips.
"Deal," he finally whispers against your mouth. "Now, about that practical demonstration..."

Your gentle exploration of the slit causes him to shudder, and you feel something shift beneath. Two bioluminescent cocks emerge, glowing a soft ethereal blue that matches his tongue. They're smooth and wet, almost opalescent, and larger than you expected, covered in ridges and bumps.  Tapered: larger at the base than the tip.

"Oh holy shit," you breathe, your eyes wide. Your heart is racing, both from nervousness and excitement.

"Too much?" His voice is tense, uncertain.

You look up at him, at those three beautiful eyes watching you with such vulnerability. "No," you say firmly. "They're beautiful. Like everything else about you."

He makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You would be a freak."

"Only now you’re figuring that out?  Sebastian I was a freak, like, seventy bites ago," you giggle playfully, carefully tracing one of the glowing cocks with your fingertips. His whole body shudders at the touch. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," he manages, his hand tangling in your hair.

You continue your gentle exploration of his body.  Your fingers almost touch when you wrap your hand around one of them, it's slick but you're not sure if that's just the natural state.  Each stroke from tip to base pulling a groan from him, you’re watching in fascination as the blue glow intensifies under your touch. The way they pulse and react to each caress is mesmerizing, casting ethereal patterns across your skin.

"Two," you murmur, still somewhat stunned. "That's... wow."

Sebastian laughs, the sound rough with desire. "Having second thoughts?"

"I don’t know if… Are they…. Are they gonna fit?" you admit your concern, but you're already pressing closer, drawn to the cool glow of him against your skin. "But I want to find out."

"We'll take it slow," he purrs, but there's still that edge of uncertainty in his voice. "If you're sure..."

You silence him with a kiss. "I'm sure," you breathe against his mouth. "I want this. Want you."

His response is a growl that vibrates through your entire body, sharp teeth finding your neck again as his hands pull you closer. The glow from various parts of his body bathes everything in otherworldly light, making the moment feel dreamlike and surreal, but his touch, his taste, the way he holds you... that's entirely real.

“Take a breath,” he coos, lining himself up.  One of his large hands holding both glowing appendages.  You feel almost high as he rubs them between your folds, teasing you ever so slightly.

You fail at taking a steady breath and instead gasp as both cocks press into you simultaneously, you’re soaked from more than adequate foreplay but the stretch is still very intense, bordering on too much. Sebastian freezes immediately when he feels you tense up.

"Too much?" His voice is strained with the effort of holding still. "We don't have to-"

"Don't you dare stop," you manage, adjusting to the overwhelming fullness. "Just... give me a moment."  You writhe to accommodate the feeling, it’s unreal, beyond anything you could have thought of.

His third hand traces soothing patterns on your hip while his primary arms support his weight. "Take all the time you need," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. "We have time."

You feel yourself slowly relaxing, the initial burn fading into something more pleasurable. The dual sensation is unlike anything you've experienced, intense in the best possible way. When you experimentally roll your hips, Sebastian makes a sound that's pure need.
"Move," you breathe against his scales. "Please."

He does, starting slow and careful, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. The blue glow intensifies with each movement, casting a glow through your skin that is surreal to witness. His teeth find your shoulder again, marking you as he gradually increases his pace.

"So ffff..fucking tight," he growls between bites. "Fuck…fucking tight and wet and perfect, perfect cunt."  He rambles between ragged breaths.

You can barely form words, lost in the sensation of both cocks carving a path through your body, pushing the air from your lungs with each heavy thrust.  The cool bioluminescence creating feelings you never knew were possible. You pull on his hair again, making him shudder and thrust deeper, bottoming out.  How in god’s name did all of that fit inside you?

"Sebastian," you moan his name like a prayer, and feel his teeth press harder in response.

"Say it again," he demands, all pretense of gentleness gone as he fucks you hard, lewd slapping between scale and skin echoing in the ruined room. "Say my name."

You do, over and over, each time earning another claiming bite, another deep thrust. The fullness is almost too much, pushing you toward an edge you've never experienced before in your life.

"Mine," he growls against your throat, and you feel the word vibrate through your entire body. "All mine."

The pressure builds impossibly in your core, his bioluminescent cocks pulsing brighter with each movement. Your body struggles to accommodate both, but the stretch only adds to the intensity. Sebastian's teeth find new territory to mark as he maintains his relentless pace.

"S..So fucking good," he growls against your collarbone. "The way you stretch around me... the way you take everything I give you..." His third hand slides between your bodies, finding your neglected clit and rolling it between his clawed fingers. "Want to feel you come apart. Want to feel you tighten around me."

You can barely process his words, lost in the multiple sensations you’re feeling now.  You try to swing your legs around his ‘hips’ but his serpent body is too big so you settle for using them to explore where his body becomes tail, smooth skin against large scales. The bioluminescence from his body and his lure bathes everything in this magical oceanic light, making the moment feel surreal. His sharp teeth find your pulse point again as he drives deeper, the cool sensation of his cocks contrasting with the burning heat of your core.

"Sebastian," you manage, your hands trying to find purchase, clawing at his back desperately. "I can't... it's too..."

"You can," he purrs against your throat. "Be good for me." His pace increases slightly, making you cry out. "That's it. Let me hear you. Good Girl."

The pleasure builds to something almost unbearable, cocks moving in a rhythm that has you seeing stars, fireworks, something incredible behind your eyelids. His third hand continues carefully rubbing your clit in circles while his primary arms keep him from crushing you.  Honestly, you’d welcome being crushed.  Anything to feel his body against you, to become as close as humanly possible.

"Cum for me," he demands, voice rough with need. "Want to feel you break around me."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, deep, and the sensation of his rigorous fucking and the pain sends you over the edge. You cry out his name as pleasure crashes through you in waves, your body clenching around him.  White hot pleasure floods your synapses, you swear you’re blind for a moment as stars cloud your vision as wave after wave crashes into you, pulling you deeper into the depths.

"Not done with you yet," Sebastian growls. The oversensitivity makes you mewl against his neck, but he holds you steady. "I want to fill you completely. Want you to feel me tomorrow."
His pace builds again, more confident now that he knows you can take all of him, you can handle how hard he’s fucking you. His teeth find fresh territory to mark.

You whimper, caught between too much and not enough. "I can't... again..."

"You can," he purrs against your throat. "One more time. Want to feel you come apart while I cum inside you." His gills flutter rapidly against your skin. "Want to mark you everywhere. Inside and out."

The hot coil in your core builds impossibly again, both cocks moving in perfect rhythm. You're already sensitive from the first time, making every sensation more intense. His teeth graze your earlobe as he drives deeper.

"Perfect," he growls. "The way you tighten around me... the way you take everything..." His third hand moves faster, making you cry out. "That's it. Let me hear you."

You feel yourself approaching the edge again, overwhelmed by the fullness, the cool glow, his sharp teeth. He seems to sense it, increasing his pace.

"Cum for me," he demands. "One more time.."

His teeth sink into your shoulder just as his thrusts get sloppy, uncoordinated, and you feel yourself tumbling off that edge again. He follows immediately, growling your name as he cums in you filling you deeply. The bioluminescence flares brilliantly, lighting up the room in a cool blue as he marks you from the inside.

You both stay connected for a moment, breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against yours. His third hand gently strokes your back as you come down from the high.

"Mine," he murmurs against your skin, and you feel the word in your soul.

Because this, this connection, this claiming, this creature who can fill you so completely yet hold you so carefully, this is everything. And maybe death is normal here, maybe tomorrow will bring new dangers, but right now, with his marks on your skin and inside you, nothing else matters.

Sebastian leans down closer to you, though his arms stay around you. You can feel his cum slowly oozing out of your abused cunt, still faintly glowing blue. His cocks retreat back into the slit, leaving you feeling strangely empty.

"That was..." you start, then laugh softly when words fail you.

"Yeah," he agrees, his third hand gently tracing the constellation of bite marks he's left on your neck and shoulders. "It was." His gills flutter with something like pride as he surveys his work. "Though I may have gotten carried away."

You reach up to touch one particularly deep bite, feeling him tense. "I like them," you assure him.

He makes a low sound in his throat, pulling you closer. "Good," he murmurs against your hair. "Because I plan to do it again. Often." His claws trace patterns on your bare skin. “If that’s what you want.”

You hear the uncertainty in his voice, even now, after everything, he's still waiting for you to run. Still expecting to be left alone.

"Sebastian," you say softly, making him look at you with all three eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Seven days," he reminds you, but his voice is gentle now. "You can't promise that."

"No," you agree, pressing closer to him. "But I can promise I'll always come back. Always find my way back to you."

His arms tighten around you, and you feel his gills flutter against your skin. "I'll hold you to that," he says roughly. Then, lighter, "You’re a mess."

You laugh, then wince slightly as the movement reminds you of how thoroughly he's marked you. "It’s your fault entirely."

"My fault?" His third hand traces one of the marks he's left. "Who was the one begging me not to stop?"

"Still your fault," you insist, but you're smiling. "You and your sharp teeth and your glowing... everything."

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you. "Speaking of glowing..." He looks down at where his cum is still slowly dripping out of you onto the pile of pillows. "Perhaps we should get you cleaned up?"

You follow his gaze, fascinated by the faint blue luminescence. "It's beautiful," you say without thinking, then blush when he makes a strangled sound.

"Freak," he says fondly, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Everything about you is beautiful," you tell him honestly, ignoring his honestly very apt assessment of your character, watching his gills flutter in response.

He's quiet for a moment, just holding you. Then, softly, "Can you stay here today?"

"Yes," you answer immediately, feeling him relax against you.

Chapter Text

"There's a shower facility," Sebastian says, his third hand lazily tracing patterns on your back. "And I think there might be some clothes in MR-P's old quarters. It’s a less shitty prison."

You prop yourself up on an elbow. "Perfect. I feel like I need about three showers right now."

His mouth twitches. "Can't imagine why."

"Shut up," but you're grinning. "Where are these magical showers?"

His expression shifts to concern. "I should go with you."

"Sebastian," you say quietly, understanding his fear but needing some semblance of normalcy. "I need a few minutes alone. To process."

"The last time you wandered off without me-"

"I know." You meet his gaze steadily. "But I need this. Just a few minutes to feel human again."

He makes a frustrated sound. "At least take my gun."

You blink at him. "Your gun?"

He reaches under the makeshift bed, pulling out what looks like a sawed-off shotgun... if shotguns had three barrels.  Ah, you remember that gun.

"You want me to take a shower with that?"

"Yes." His expression is completely serious.

"That's ridiculous."

"Non-negotiable." His voice carries the weight of someone who's lost too much already. "I won't risk losing you again."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken fears. Finally, you nod. "Show me how to use it properly."

He walks you through the mechanics, his hands steady as they guide yours over the weapon. "Safety's here. Don't hesitate if you need to use it. I can find more shells, I can’t find…" He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

"I'll shoot first and ask questions later," you promise, the weight of the gun a reminder of just how dangerous your situation remains.

His hands cup your face, scales cool against your skin. "If anything feels wrong-"

"I understand," you admit, testing the weight of it. "This thing is huge. Where am I supposed to put it while I'm washing?"

"Within arm's reach," he says firmly.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. "It will be okay."

His hand catches your wrist as you try to leave. "Holly. I'm serious. Be careful."

The genuine concern in his voice makes you soften. "I will. Promise." You wave the gun. "I'm armed and everything."

"And if anything happens-"

"I'll shoot everything in sight," you assure him.

He sighs, releasing you. "Fine. But if you're not back in thirty minutes-"

"You'll come charging in to rescue me?"

"Exactly."

You shake your head, gathering your remaining dignity and the ridiculous gun. "I can be stealthy."

"Please."

"I’ll be extra careful, okay?"

“Okay,” he concedes, but you can feel his eyes watching until you turn the corner. Overprotective Sebastian, you think fondly, adjusting your grip on the gun. At least life's never boring.

-

The wreckage tells a story you're not sure you want to read. Claw marks tear through metal walls like they were paper, and there are places where the steel is crushed inward, as if something, someone, with immense strength had lost control. Dark stains mark the floors, and you try not to think too hard about what shade they might have been when fresh.

"Oh, Sebastian," you whisper, trailing your fingers along a particularly deep set of gouges. Seven days of grief and rage carved into the facility's bones.

A distant screech echoes through the corridors, but you notice a turret swivelling smoothly in that direction. "Thanks, P.AI.nter," you murmur, knowing he's watching through his cameras. The security system whirs quietly in acknowledgement.

The triple-barreled shotgun feels heavy in your hands as you creep past the destruction. You'd rather not use it, the noise would attract everything within earshot; but Sebastian's paranoia is almost justified when you spot movement at the end of a hallway. You duck into a locker just as something roars past, green smoke left in its wake.

Your breath catches as you hear it pause, but then there's a soft beeping from somewhere down the corridor. The creature's roars fade as it investigates the sound. P.AI.nter, running interference again. You make a mental note to thank him properly later.

But it's not the monsters that have your heart racing as you finally reach the prisoner quarters. It's the thought of finding other expendables, are there any left? The facility feels too empty, too quiet. Where are Lacey and her gang?  Where are the expendables who didn’t want to get involved?

You check another room, finding only overturned furniture and more claw marks. Sebastian’s rampage knew no bounds.  Had they all died forever?  Did anyone come back?

A noise makes you freeze, pressing against a wall. But it's just the ventilation system groaning to life. Still, you adjust your grip on the shotgun, imagining Sebastian's exasperated expression if he knew you were jumping at air ducts.

"I'm fine," you mutter, both to yourself and to the cameras you know are tracking you. "Totally fine."

“Holly!” A screen springs to life, “Finally a screen to see you!” P.AI.nter ‘s cheerful scribbled face stares back at you and you can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” you say softly, pressing your hand to the screen.  “I came back.”

“I heard!” words that made your eyes wide in embarrassed horror.

“What did you hear?” you ask, afraid of the answer.

“When you showed up yesterday, Sebastian had me turned down but I heard you come back,” P.AI.nter looks solemn for a moment, “he turned the walkie off when you were talking about him being tired and hasn’t turned it back on yet.  I wanted to say hi.”

You thank every god that has ever existed all at once.  “I’ll come see you soon,” you promise.

“I’ll hold you to that!  Enjoy your shower,” with that the screen beside the door goes dark.

You finally spot the shower facility sign, but pause at another set of deep gouges in the wall. Seven days of believing you were gone forever, and Sebastian had torn the place apart in revenge. The thought makes your chest tight.

You shake yourself and continue forward. You can process the emotional weight of Sebastian's grief later. Right now, you need that shower, and to get back before he decides thirty minutes is too long and comes charging in in a worried rage.

But as you slip into the shower facility, you can't shake the nagging question: where are the others? And why does the facility feel like a tomb?

The hot water feels like absolute heaven, and you have to force yourself not to spend an hour just standing under the spray. You scrub until your skin is pink, washing away months of grime and the sweat of your bodies being pressed together. The industrial soap isn't exactly luxury grade, but right now it smells better than any expensive perfume.

"Best shower ever," you sigh, though you keep one eye on the shotgun propped against the wall. Sebastian's paranoia must be rubbing off on you.

After drying off with a somewhat musty but clean towel, you begin exploring the quarters. Most of the lockers have been torn open, more evidence of Sebastian, but there are still useful items scattered about. Your heart leaps when you find a new wetsuit, sleek and black and perfect for sneaking around the facility. The material is surprisingly high-tech, probably designed to help the MR-Ps blend in during maintenance work.

"Oh my god, real clothes," you practically moan, pulling the grey capris on. They're a little loose but there's a drawstring, and after months a cheap wetsuit and diving gear and the past day of... significantly less... they feel like luxury wear. The oversized t-shirt practically swallows you, hanging down like a dress, but it's soft and clean and smells faintly of industrial detergent rather than seawater.

You carefully fold the wetsuit and stuff it into a bag you found. It'll be perfect for later sneaking around, but right now all you want is to curl up somewhere comfortable with Sebastian and just... exist.

You spot something promising in the back of a locker. Several paperback books, their spines cracked from use, and a tablet. The screen is dark, but when you press the power button there's a faint flicker. Just needs charging.

"Someone's day just got better," you sing-song to the nearest camera. "Think Sebastian has a charging cable?"

You suppose it makes sense that the cameras here didn’t have screens for him to hack into to talk to you, but you wish they did.

You tuck the books and tablet into your bag alongside the wetsuit, then adjust the absolutely ridiculous shotgun in your arms. "Don't suppose you found any smaller weapons lying around?" you ask hopefully, but the security system remains silent. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Oh thank god," you breathe, discovering a utility closet stocked with basic hygiene supplies. There are still sealed toothbrushes, half-crushed tubes of toothpaste, and, miraculously, several hairbrushes. You gather your treasures and head to the long row of sinks and mirrors that line one wall.

Your reflection is... startling. You knew you were a mess, but seeing yourself properly for the first time in what feels like forever is jarring. Your face is thinner than you remember, cheekbones more pronounced. But your eyes are bright, alive, and there's colour in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the hot shower.

"Hello stranger," you murmur to your reflection, then get to work. The mint taste of toothpaste is almost overwhelming after so long without it, and you have to stop yourself from swallowing the foam just because it tastes so good. You brush until your gums ache, rinse, and then do it again just because you can.

The hairbrush is next, and you wince as you work through tangles, the soap in the shower making your hair feel a bit like straw. It takes time and patience, but eventually your hair starts to feel like hair again instead of a hay bale.
Your fingers move automatically into the familiar pattern of braiding, muscle memory taking over. Left over middle, right over middle, gather more hair as you go. The French braid starts at your crown and works its way down, keeping your hair neat and out of your face. Perfect for whatever chaos the facility might throw at you next.
You secure the end with an elastic band found in the utility closet, then examine your handiwork in the mirror. The braid is a little messy, you're out of practice, but it'll hold.

"Much better," you say to your reflection. You look... different. More like yourself. More human.

The shotgun catches your eye in the mirror, propped against the sink while you worked. Such a stark contrast to this moment of normalcy, brushing teeth, braiding hair, like you're getting ready for a normal day instead of... whatever this is.

You check a large digital clock looming over you, still within your thirty minute window, but barely. Time to head back before Sebastian works himself into a frenzy.

You gather your supplies, stuffing a few extra toothbrushes and another hairbrush into your bag. Who knows when you'll find more? The shotgun feels awkward in your arms again as you adjust it.

"Coming back," you say to the nearest camera, though you know P.AI.nter can't respond here.

You take one last look in the mirror; clean, dressed, hair braided, armed to the teeth. Ready to face whatever comes next.

"Thanks for the cover, P.AI.nter," you say, heading for the door. "Let's hope we don't need this thing." You pat the shotgun. "Because I'm pretty sure the kickback would knock me on my ass."

As you start the careful journey back, you can't help but feel grateful for both of them; the AI watching over you and the creature waiting for your return. Maybe they're both a little overprotective, but after everything that's happened in this place, you can't really blame them.

Besides, you think with a small smile, adjusting the oversized shirt, there are worse things than having a super intelligent security system and a multi-armed sea creature looking out for you. Even if one of them did make you take a shotgun to the shower.

You push your bag of goodies through the vent first, crawling right behind. You find him exactly where you'd expect, lounging, coiled like a dragon.  He has his shirt on but his coat still sits on the floor.

"Twenty nine minutes," he announces, though you can hear the smile in his voice. "Cutting it close."

"Oh even a minute to spare," you counter, dropping your bag of scavenged supplies and propping the shotgun carefully against the wall. "Miss me?"

His eyes soften as he takes in your transformed appearance. "You look..." he trails off, something vulnerable crossing his features.

"Human again?" you suggest, padding over to him in your bare feet. The floor is cold, but clean.

"Beautiful," he corrects quietly, reaching out to touch your braid. His fingers trace its path down your back. 

You lean into his touch. "I found a new wetsuit, black, more stealthy. And books. And a tablet that needs charging. And-"

"And you braided your hair," he interrupts softly, still fascinated by it.

"Well, you've only known me in survival mode," you remind him. "This is more... normal me. When I have access to actual hygiene products."

His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer. "You’re pretty in survival mode," he murmurs.

"Smooth talker," you cut him off with a smile.

Sebastian's three eyes track over you, taking in the oversized facility shirt hanging like a dress and the grey capris. His mouth twitches. "You're wearing MR-P casual wear. I was a MR-P."

"What does that mean?" You look down at yourself. "This was yours?"

"Medium Ranked Prisoners," he explains, reaching out to tug at the hem of the shirt with his third hand. "It’s standard issue and you do not fit in this size at all.  You’re an EXR-P by the way.  You don’t get casual wear."

“We get to die,” you muse as he wraps his arms around you.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," he says nuzzling into your neck. "You smell good."

"Industrial soap; the height of luxury."

He laughs against your skin. "In here? Absolutely." His hands slide under your shirt, cool against your back. "Twenty nine minutes was too long."

But there's something in his voice, a weight that wasn't there before. You pull back slightly to look at him. "What is it?"

He's quiet for a moment, all three eyes studying you with an intensity that makes your heart skip. "We need to talk," he finally says. "About what happens next."

You feel him tense slightly, preparing for difficult words. Your hands tighten reflexively on his shoulders.

"If you come with us..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "There won't be any going back. No clean slate, no wiped record. You'll likely be stuck with me in another facility for a while."

Your breath catches as the implications sink in.

"You might never see your son again. Your family. Everything you've built, everything you were working toward; it would all be gone." His third hand moves to cup your face, drawing back just enough to meet your eyes. "I want you with me. More than I can say. But I need you to understand what you'd be giving up."

The weight of the choice settles over you like a physical thing. You think of your son's smile, of late nights at the hospital joking with fellow nurses, of the life you'd been trying to rebuild.

"There's another option," he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek. "Complete your original mission. Take the crystal, go home. You'd have your freedom, your family..." His voice roughens slightly. "Your life back."
You're quiet, processing this, and he continues with careful precision. "I've been working with Innovation Inc. They're... different from other companies. They understand the value of what's down here; not just the specimens, but the research, the technology."
His third hand absently strokes your back as he explains, "I've been collecting data, storing equipment, gathering everything of value. It's all documented, categorized. There are crates of it. Months of work."

"That's why you've been here so long," you realize. "You weren't just surviving. You were working."

He nods. "Innovation Inc. is sending a submarine. Once we have everything secured, the data, the specimens, the files, they'll extract us." His eyes search yours. "It won't be like Urbanshade. They're willing to negotiate, to recognize rights."

Tears well in your eyes, "I cant just pretend this didnt happen.  That you didn't happen."

He doesnt look directly at you,  it's obvious that this hurts, "I just want what's best for you,  I dont know how you can get what you need..."

"I'm going to take that crystal," you say with quiet determination. "If I steal it, Urbanshade won't be able to restart their operations here and I can use it as a bargaining chip."

Sebastian's entire body tenses. His hands tighten on you reflexively, scales catching the dim light as he shifts. "No." His voice is rough with barely contained fear. "Absolutely not, that is too dangerous.  Finishing your mission is one thing, but stealing it?"

"But think about it. If we take the crystal, they can never-"

"I don't give a shit if Urbanshade restarts operations," Sebastian says, his voice tight. "Once we're gone-"

"How can you say that?" You pull back to look at him, disbelief colouring your tone. "After everything they've done? Everything they're still doing?"

His hands tighten on you. "Because I care about surviving. About getting you and P.AI.nter out of here safely. None of that matters if we're dead."

"It matters to me," you say quietly but firmly. "I can't walk away knowing someone else might end up down here. That more people could die, or worse."

He makes a sound of pure frustration. "You're impossible."

"I'm right."

His third hand tilts your face up, his expression pained. "You're going to do this no matter what I say, aren't you?"

"Yes." You meet his gaze steadily. "Because it's the right thing to do. This whole... everything, it's a meat grinder, cruel bullshit and for what?"

Sebastian's hands go still on your skin, his whole body tensing. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. "I need to tell you something. About the lockdown. About..." He swallows hard. "About what I did."

You stay quiet, sensing the weight of what's coming.

"I was innocent," he says finally, the words seeming to tear from him. "All this time, ten years of being their experiment, their maintenance man, their prisoner. And I was innocent." His laugh is bitter, hollow. "I found out by accident."

Your hands tighten on him instinctively. "Ten years?" you breathe.

"Ten years of tests. Procedures. Being treated like their personal handyman because I understood the systems, could fix things." His voice cracks. "They knew. They had to have known. But they kept me here anyway, because I was useful."

"So you..." You trail off, understanding dawning.

"I snapped," he admits, and there's something raw and broken in his voice. "Released every experiment I could. Destroyed critical systems. Triggered the lockdown protocols." His third hand trembles as it cups your face. "I wanted them to burn. All of them. The whole facility."

You reach up to touch his face, feeling the slight tremor running through him. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I am indirectly the reason you're here, the reason you went through all of this." His eyes close briefly. "I was so angry. So full of hate. I wanted them to suffer like I had suffered." When his eyes open again, they're bright with unshed tears. "But then you came. And for the first time in ten years, I..." He stops, struggling for words.

"You what?" you prompt gently.

"I felt human again," he whispers. "Even looking like this, even after everything they did to me... you made me feel human."

Tears prick at your eyes. "Sebastian..."

"I should have told you sooner. Should have explained..." His grip on you tightens. "I understand if this changes things. If you don't want to-"

You cut him off with a kiss, fierce and desperate. When you pull back, your hands frame his face. "It changes nothing," you say firmly. "Nothing."

"Holly-"

"No. Listen to me." Your thumbs brush his scales gently. "They stole ten years of your life. They experimented on you, used you, imprisoned you when you were innocent. You had every right to fight back."

A single tear escapes his third eye. "I'm a shitty person."

"You're a person who survived something terrible," you correct softly. "And I'm still choosing you. I'm still going with you."

He makes a broken sound and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. You hold him as he shakes, running your hands soothingly over his scales.

"Ten years," you whisper against his skin. "God, Sebastian. I'm so sorry."

You stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing the weight of his confession. And if your shoulder grows damp with his tears, you say nothing, just hold him closer and whisper promises of tomorrow against his skin.

After what feels like hours, Sebastian's breathing steadies, though his arms remain tight around you. One hand trails up to touch your braid again, as if grounding himself in the present moment.

"This doesn't change my mind about the crystal," you say softly against his scales. "If anything, it makes me more determined. No one else should go through what you did."

He tenses slightly, but his voice is resigned when he speaks. "I knew you'd say that." A hand cups your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Just... promise me something?"

"What?"

"Let us help. No lone wolf heroics." All three eyes fix on you intently. "We do this together or not at all.  P.AI.nter says he owes you anyway, heh."

You study his face; the determination in his eyes, the lingering traces of vulnerability from his confession. "Together," you agree. "But we need a plan. A real one."

He shifts, coils adjusting beneath you as he thinks. "Innovation Inc's submarine won't be here for at least another week. That gives us time to prepare."

You exhale slowly, letting your head rest against his chest. "We can figure out the plan tomorrow," you murmur. "Right now, I just... I just want to be here. With you."

His tension eases slightly, understanding in his voice. "After everything today..."

"Exactly." You shift to look up at him. "The crystal, Lacey, Urbanshade; it can wait a few hours. We've had enough heavy conversations for one day."

His coils adjust beneath you like a living beanbag chair, making you more comfortable. "You're right," he says softly, third hand returning to play with your braid. "Sometimes I forget we can just... exist."

"Well, I'm reminding you," you settle against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. "No plans. No schemes. No life-or-death decisions. Just... this."

He makes a low sound of contentment, arms wrapping more securely around you. The familiar static of the radio provides a soothing backdrop, and you can feel the last of his tension melting away.

"Just this," he agrees quietly, and you both fall into comfortable silence, letting this be a problem for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Sebastian's picking up scattered tools in his small shop area when the walkie-talkie crackles to life, not long after Holly left for the showers in the MR-P quarters. The room's still a mess from his earlier rampage, overturned workbench, dented filing cabinet, claw marks in the walls.

"Sebastiaaaaan," P.AI.nter chirps. "Why'd you turn off communications earlier? I got worried! You never turn off communications!"

Sebastian's scales flush a deeper blue as he rights a toppled chair. "We just... needed some private time."

"Private time? What's that? Making secret plans?"

"No, it wasn't... that," Sebastian mumbles, busying himself with collecting scattered papers.

"Ooh, was it a surprise party? But it's not her birthday. Unless... did I miss a birthday? I'm terrible with human celebrations-"

"It wasn't a party, kid."

"Then what? What requires such secrecy that you'd turn off the only line of communication we have!"

Sebastian's third hand covers his face while the others continue straightening up. "It was just... something private between Holly and me."

"Like a secret handshake?"

"Can we please focus on making sure Holly's path to the showers stays clear?"

"Fine," P.AI.nter sulks.

"I just want to make sure she gets there safely," Sebastian says firmly, propping his workbench back up.

"Of course! But don't think this conversation is over. I have SO many questions about these secret activities..."

Sebastian just groans, wondering how he's going to survive P.AI.nter's innocent curiosity without dying of embarrassment as he surveys the damage he still needs to clean up.

"Sebastian... do you like her?" The AI's question is soft, almost shy. "Like, really like her?"

Sebastian's scales flush deeper blue as he sets the wrench on his newly-righted workbench. "P.AI.nter..."

"Because when she was gone, you were different. Scary different. And now she's back and you're... you're you again. But different you."

"Different me?" Sebastian mutters, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

"You're doing it right now! That little smile when anyone mentions her. I can hear it in your voice!"

"No I’m not."

"She told me how to tell when you’re lying," P.AI.nter's voice turns sly. "So... do you?"

Sebastian looks at the claw marks in the walls, remembers the desperation that drove him to make them. Thinks about Holly's hand in his, her smile, her complete acceptance of what he is.
"Yeah," he says quietly, running a hand over the dents in his filing cabinet. "Yeah, I do."

"I KNEW IT!" P.AI.nter practically squeals. 

"Please stop talking."

"Never! I ship it! Is that the right term? I learned it from Imaginary Friend!"

Sebastian just shakes his head, trying and failing to hide his smile as he continues cleaning up his mess, P.AI.nter's excited chatter providing a surprisingly comforting backdrop to his work.

-

You help Sebastian gather scattered papers from the floor of his shop, carefully avoiding commenting on the claw marks scoring the walls or the evidence of his earlier breakdown. Your heart aches seeing the destruction, but you understand; you'd feel similar if you thought you'd lost him.

"Hey, Sebastian..." P.AI.nter's voice comes through the walkie-talkie, unusually hesitant. "I've kinda had something on my mind for a little while now. Is... is it okay if I ask?"

Sebastian glances at you, and you give him an encouraging nod while collecting a handful of USB drives. "I don't see why not. Hit me."

"What are your plans for when we get to the surface? Is... is there anyone waiting for you out there?"

You pause in your cleanup, watching Sebastian's ear fins droop. This isn't something he's talked about before, not even with you.

"Well... before... any of this transpired, I guess you could say I had a lot going for me." His voice grows distant as you move closer, drawn by the pain in his tone. "I was surrounded by my loved ones. Friends, family and the like. I was finishing up my last few years of school and uhh, and even had an internship that I was starting, but..."

When he trails off, staring at his altered hands, you reach out and take one in yours. His scales are cool against your skin, and you can feel him trembling slightly.

"I... never could have imagined it would all turn out the way it did. My mom... my siblings, they all must have just... accepted that I was dead, and moved on without me." You squeeze his hand as his lure darkens. "But... maybe that's not such a bad thing. With the way I am now? I'm not so convinced any of them would... still want me around. I'm... I'm not the boy they once knew, all those years ago."

You want to tell him he's wrong, that anyone would be lucky to have him in their life, but P.AI.nter speaks first.

"If it... makes you feel any better, I think you're pretty nice." P.AI.nter sighs but it’s a sound filled with hope, “It's... just like you said before about not being so hard on yourself...? And... you're the only one who's cared about me outside my creator. No one else would have taken the risks you have for something like me... and I'm really grateful for that."

"P.AI.nter's right," you say softly, reaching up to touch Sebastian's face. "And you're not alone in this. We'll face it together, whatever comes next."

You watch his gills ripple with emotion as P.AI.nter continues, "So... I... don't think any of them would turn you away, Sebastian. I think they would be really happy to see you again, after so long. Maybe... we can find them again?"

"We could help you look for them," you add quickly. "When you're ready. No pressure."

Sebastian looks between you and the walkie-talkie, his expression softening. "Painter... I... appreciate it. Both of you."

The moment feels delicate, precious. Finally, you tug on Sebastian's hand, pulling him back to the task at hand. "Come on, let's get this place sorted out."

You're still organizing scattered tools when Sebastian's question catches you off guard. "What about your family?" he asks softly, all three hands pausing in their work. "I've never heard you talk about them."

The vials in your hand suddenly feel very heavy. You focus on placing it carefully in the crate, buying time to steady your voice. "Not much to tell, really. Grew up in Nova Scotia: little fishing town where everyone knew everyone else's business."

P.AI.nter's voice crackles through the walkie-talkie, “sounds peaceful!”

"Dad was a fisherman," you continue, moving to pick up a hard drive. "Real maritime stereotype: cigars, rum, those thick wool sweaters. Mom taught third grade at the local elementary school. Everyone loved her, she was that teacher who'd stay late helping kids with their reading."

Sebastian's head tilts to the side as he watches you. "Was?"

You swallow hard. "Dad died when I was twenty. Cancer. All those cigars finally caught up with him, I guess. And Mom..." You trail off, suddenly very interested in organizing the workbench. "Well, we haven't spoken since... everything happened."

"She never reached out?" Sebastian asks quietly, one of his hands hovering near your shoulder, like he wants to comfort you but isn't sure if he should.

"Not once." You try to keep your voice neutral, but something must crack because Sebastian's hand finally settles on your shoulder. "Not even a phone call. I guess finding out your daughter's in prison for burning people alive isn't exactly something a small town teacher wants to deal with."

"I'm gonna paint the ocean at sunset," P.AI.nter announces softly. "With storm clouds gathering, but there's still light breaking through."

You have to smile at P.AI.nter's metaphorical take on your life. "That's... actually pretty perfect, P.AI.nter."

Sebastian's hand squeezes gently. "I'm sorry," he says, and you can hear in his voice that he understands, really understands, what it's like to lose family in more ways than one.

"It's okay," you say, and you're surprised to find you mostly mean it. "Sometimes I think about trying to call her again, but..." You shrug. "Maybe some bridges stay burned. Besides," you add, looking up at Sebastian with a small smile, "Honestly, I am glad that dad didn’t live to see me fuck up."

You're quiet for a moment after talking about your parents when you start to hear Sebastian barely contain his laughter. "You know," he says, lips twitching, "there's probably something deeply psychological about you, the daughter of a fisherman, ending up with..." He gestures at himself with all three hands, "...whatever ocean creature cocktail I've got going on here. But I don't think we should unpack all that right now."

You snort despite yourself, the heavy mood breaking. "Oh my god, Sebastian."

"I mean, your dad spent his life catching fish, and now you're here with me," He pauses thoughtfully. "I feel like there's a really good therapist's couch conversation in there somewhere."

"Oh my god what if this is all daddy issues." But you're laughing now, the earlier heaviness lifting.

"I'm just saying, if Freud were alive, he'd have a field day with this. 'Tell me about your father... and his relationship with the ocean.'"

"Stop!" You're holding your sides now, tears of laughter replacing the earlier sad ones. "You're terrible."

"Hey, I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," Sebastian says, pulling you closer with one hand. "Though maybe we should save the 'Holly’s father was a fisherman and I'm basically a sentient aquarium' conversation for another day."

"I hate you," you say fondly, leaning into him.

"No you don't," he replies softly.

"No," you agree, watching his lure flicker. "I really don't."

“Uh, Sebastian? I don’t get it,” P.AI.nter finally says after being silent, causing the two of you to lose yourself laughing.

-

You're perched comfortably in Sebastian's ‘lap’, his tail curled around propping you up while you try to explain what he's missed. "Wait, so you're telling me you haven't seen a single Marvel movie since Iron Man?"

"Been a bit busy," he deadpans, gesturing at his altered form with one hand while the other two rest on your hips. "Not exactly a movie theatre down here."

"But that means you missed all of it! The whole infinity saga, Thanos, the..." You trail off at his blank expression. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue. Is this the one with the green guy?"

Through the walkie-talkie, P.AI.nter pipes up: "What's a Marvel?"

"Oh god, not you too," you groan. "Okay, what's the last big thing you remember, Sebastian? Music-wise, movie-wise, anything?"

He thinks for a moment, absently running one hand up your back. "Lady Gaga was just getting really big? And everyone was obsessed with vampires for some reason."

"Oh no," you laugh, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. "That's... that's so long ago. You literally missed a global pandemic. Like, the whole world shut down for months. Everyone was stuck inside, doing video calls in their pajamas, baking sourdough bread..."

"A what now? The whole world just... stopped?"

"Is that why humans started wearing masks in all the security footage?" P.AI.nter asks.

"Yeah, exactly," you say. "God, you missed so much. TikTok, Instagram, Tiger King..."

"I don't even know what those words mean," Sebastian admits, pulling you closer as his hands squeeze your hips gently.

"Well, you missed cryptocurrency becoming a thing, and then immediately becoming a joke. You missed everyone suddenly hating Facebook, well, Meta now. You missed baby Yoda becoming the internet's collective child..."

"Baby what now?" Sebastian and P.AI.nter ask in unison.

You look between Sebastian's confused face and the walkie-talkie, grinning. "Oh, this is going to be fun. I get to introduce you both to everything!"

"Should we be worried?" Sebastian asks, nuzzling your neck.

"Probably," you reply, shifting in his lap to get more comfortable. "But that's kind of the theme of the whole decade anyway."

"I'm very confused," P.AI.nter announces. "But intrigued."

"Just wait until I tell you about how everyone became obsessed with sea shanties for a month during lockdown," you say, running your fingers along Sebastian's scales.

"Now you're definitely making things up," Sebastian murmurs against your skin.

"Oh Sebastian," you say, turning to kiss him softly. "You have no idea how weird things got. The 2020s have been a wild ride so far."

Chapter Text

You're leaning over Sebastian's table, wearing nothing but the oversized standard issue MR-P shirt, watching him tinker with a tripwire mine. "You know," you say playfully, shifting your weight to make the shirt ride up, "there are more interesting things you could be doing right now."

His blue scales catch the workshop's lighting as his head snaps up, all three hands freezing mid-motion. You can feel his eyes trailing up your bare legs. "Holly..." There's a warning note in his voice, but you can hear the desire underneath it.

"Yes?" you ask innocently, ‘innocently’ stretching your back, knowing exactly what the movement does to the hem of the shirt. Behind you, you hear something metallic clatter to the table.

"You’re a brat," he growls softly, and you can hear his body slither over.

"Am I?" You glance over your shoulder, giggling. "I'm just helping you with your work..."

His hands settle on your hips, and you feel the weight of his chest against your back. "No," he rumbles in your ear, "you're being a tease."

You wiggle your hips slightly against him. "Is it working?"

His grip tightens possessively as he presses against you, the rough texture of his scales a delicious contrast against your skin. The stuff on the table rattles as you brace yourself against it, breath catching as his third hand slides up your spine beneath the shirt.

"You're impossible," he growls in your ear, but there's affection mixed with the desire in his voice. "Can't get any work done with you around..."

"Maybe that was the point," you gasp as his teeth graze your neck. Your fingers clutch the edge of the table as you feel the wet warmth of his slit and the growing lengths it contains. "Is it working?"

"What do you think?" he rumbles, and you can feel exactly how well it's working as he pulls your hips back against him, two cocks sliding between your thighs. You gasp in surprise as one hand tangles in your hair while the others continue their explorations, making you shiver.

"Sebastian..." you breathe, squeezing your thighs together, making him groan.

"Yes?" he purrs, mimicking your earlier innocent tone, though there's nothing innocent about the way he's pawing at your breasts, squeezing, claws sinking in.

The junk scatters as Sebastian grips the table on either side of you, his cocks slide between your thighs, grinding against your clit in a steady motion. His breath is hot against your ear as he growls, "You have no idea what you do to me when you tease like this."

You try to respond but can only manage a strangled moan as he slides one of his cocks in, the other still comfortably between your thighs. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to expose your neck to his hungry kisses.

"Look at you," he rumbles, his voice dropping to that deep register that makes you weak. "So eager for me..." His other hands grip your hips roughly, controlling your movements as he bottoms out, filling you so completely. The table creaks beneath you as his pace intensifies.

"Sebastian," you manage to whimper, fingers white-knuckled on the table's edge. His bioluminescence pulses brighter with each sharp movement, casting dancing shadows across the shop walls.

"Say it again," he commands, one hand sliding up your spine possessively. "Let me hear how much you want this."

You try to form words but they dissolve into breathless moans as he increases the intensity, wet lewd sounds echo in the nearly empty room. His claws dig into the softness of your hips as his movements grow more commanding, more primal. The feeling of being fucked so ruthlessly and the stimulation of his other cock between your thighs is almost too much to bear.

"That's it," he growls approvingly as you arch back against him. "Show me how needy you are." His multiple hands grip hard enough to leave marks as the passion between you builds to a fever pitch.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in the sensations, his rough pace, his possessive grip, the way his lure flickers with each thrust. The shop fills with the sounds of your pleasure and his deep growls of satisfaction.

Your fingers clutch desperately at the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, but Sebastian maintains his relentless pace. The glow of his cocks pulse brighter with each movement, casting an ethereal blue glow across your sweat-slicked skin.

"Too... too much...," you gasp, oversensitive but unable to resist as he continues his passionate assault. You can barely stand he’s holding you steady as your legs threaten to give out.

"More," he growls in your ear, sharp teeth sinking into your shoulder possessively. The shop fills with the sounds of your breathless moans as he drives you towards another peak. His thrusts become sloppy, uncoordinated, matching his growing urgency.

When he finally cums, his lure flares brightly. You feel his cooling cum coat your thighs and fill you at the same time as you collapse together against the table, thoroughly spent. The ethereal fluid casts a gentle glow across your joined bodies as you both catch your breath.

"You're going to be the death of me," you manage weakly.

He chuckles, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder. "Hey, you started it!"

You can only nod, too blissed out for proper words.

Sebastian growls appreciatively at the sight before him, opalescent cum casting an ethereal blue glow as it traces patterns down your thighs. You're still trembling against the workbench, catching your breath as his tail keeps you steady.

"Beautiful," he rumbles, a hand grabbing your ass to spread you open, to view what he’s done to you, how he’s claimed you. The air is filled with the sound of your shared heavy breathing as you both recover from the intensity.

"I can't feel my legs," you manage weakly, earning a satisfied chuckle from him as his hands grip your hips.

"Good," he purrs, clearly proud of the effect he has on you.

His scales feel deliciously rough against your oversensitive skin as he pulls you back against his chest, nuzzling your neck. "Think you can handle another round?" he asks, voice deep with renewed desire.

"I need like twenty minutes and some wate-" you gasp as his hands begin to wander again

-

You lay across Sebastian's serpentine body, trailing your fingers along his scars, giving each one some love.  It doesn’t fix what happened but he seems to appreciate it nonetheless. His scaled body is slightly cool beneath you, coiled comfortably on the workshop floor. His tail fin twitches with anticipation as you deliberately take your time, exploring every sensitive spot you've discovered.

A drawn out groan escapes his mouth as you dip your tongue into a particularly deep scar, his three hands flexing against the floor.

“Oh that was nice,” you giggle, pressing slow kisses along his scales. You can feel the rumble of pleasure in his chest beneath you.

His lower portion of tail coils possessively around your legs as you continue your teasing exploration. "You know exactly what you're doing," he says as you work your way lower.

You hum contentedly, watching his reactions. "Maybe," you grin and kiss just above the warm slit in his scales, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him.

"Tease," he growls, his hands finally moving to grip you. "Keep that up and-"

You silence him by dipping your tongue between the soft folds, exploring his anatomy with curious fervour.  The structure is familiar and alien all at the same time, you feel with your tongue where his cocks are at rest, but underneath there is an open space. His primary hands tangle in your hair, his breaths are ragged as you continue charting unexplored territory.

You look up at him, watching his expression, half lidded and spaced completely out.  He’s gone, past the moon into the stars.  Slick fluids and saliva mix to create connecting threads when you raise your head.  His folds are now puffy, more pronounced than before.

You shriek in surprise as you feel yourself being dragged upwards, he effortlessly slides you up his long body, your skin tingling against his scales until you're positioned exactly where he wants you.  You’re nearly sitting on his face, cool breath on your inner thighs. "Now," he purrs, his hands gripping your thighs, "my turn."

His lure casts a yellow glow across your skin as he takes his time, trailing kisses along your inner thighs. You gasp as his teeth sink in, bites replacing the soft kisses, tongue pressing the new marks immediately after.

"Sebastian," you whimper as his tongue slides out of his mouth. He grips your hips, claws holding you steady, his tongue is large and wet and slides through your folds with ease.  Lapping at your clit with an intensity that makes you feel like you’re going to be consumed whole.

His growls of satisfaction vibrate through you as he works, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation.  His tongue fills you, writing and twisting inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before.  Nobody on this earth has felt this before and it’s glorious. 

An earth shattering orgasm rips through you, you cry out his name but he doesn't relent. His grip tightens as you try to squirm away, holding you in place as he drives you toward another wave of pleasure. Your gasps echo off the shop walls as he proves just how thorough his revenge can be.

"Fffffuuuuuuuuuuccccckk," you manage between ragged breaths, but his only response is a deep chuckle that sends new shivers through your oversensitive body. His lure pulses with satisfaction as he continues his sweet torture well into the night.

-

You're curled against Sebastian's serpentine form in the afterglow, idly tracing his myriad of scars when two thoughts hit you at once. "Hey... can I ask you something kind of personal? Well, two things actually."

"I don’t know how you can get more personal," he quips, his thick tail coiling around you lazily. "I'm all ears. Well, not really, but you get the idea."

"First... you've been trapped here for ten years, right? So am I the first person since...?"

His lure dim slightly, and for a moment you worry you've crossed a line. But then he lets out a soft chuckle. "Yes, Holly. Turns out being transformed into a fish-snake monster really puts a damper on one's love life. Who knew?"

"Ten years is a long time," you say softly, running your hand along his bare chest.

"Well, it's not like I had many options," he says dryly, though there's a vulnerability beneath his sarcasm. "The dating pool in an underground facility is surprisingly limited. Especially when you're the resident test subject and also a prisoner."

You bite your lip, deciding to ask your second question. "So... um, this might sound really stupid but... I'm not going to like, lay eggs or something now, am I?"

His entire body stills for a moment before he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Holly. That's exactly how biology works. My glowing cum is definitely going to make you lay eggs." His tail fin flicks against your hip sarcastically. "I can't believe my first sexual partner in ten years is this dumb."

"Hey!" you protest, but you're already laughing. "Well excuse me for wondering! You were human once but now you're all... glowy and scaly!"

"And clearly that means my genetic material can magically change your biology, it’s not even mine that needs to lay eggs, you’d have to do it," he deadpans, though his ear fins flutter with what might be uncertainty. "I mean... I don't think... actually, I have no idea how any of this works now."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Look, I was a college student before all this," he grumbles. "For all I know, you might sprout a tail tomorrow. Though," he pulls you closer as he adds smugly, "that would just make you even more irresistible."

"You jackass," you laugh, but now you're both wondering. “As long as I can breathe underwater, that would actually be cool.”

"Hey, you're the one who brought it up," he shrugs, trying to maintain his sassy demeanor despite the genuine uncertainty. "Though I suppose we should probably figure it out at some point. You know, between all the rigorous testing we've been doing."

"Testing, huh?"

"Purely for science," he purrs, rolling you beneath him. "And making up for ten years of lost time. Now, shall we return to our very important research? I promise to take notes on any egg-laying symptoms."

"Sebastian!"

Chapter Text

You're admiring how the wetsuit hugs your curves when Sebastian casually asks, "Want your diving gear? Just need to remove the explosive first."

"Yeah, it's in my-" Your brain catches up with his words and you do a full-body double-take. "I'm sorry, the WHAT now?"

Sebastian's already reaching for your air tanks when he notices your face has gone whiter than a deep-sea anglerfish's belly. All three of his eyes blink in succession. "The shotgun shell. You know, the one that..." He trails off as your jaw drops. "Oh. Oh no. You didn't know?"

"THERE'S A BOMB IN MY GEAR?!" Your voice hits a pitch that probably has whales wincing three miles away.

"I mean, technically it's a shotgun shell connected to a detanator-"

"NOT HELPING!"

"I thought you knew!" Sebastian holds up all three hands defensively. "It's standard Urbanshade procedure. If anyone tries to escape or go somewhere unauthorized..." He makes a little 'pop' sound effect and gesture with his hands that's entirely too cheerful for describing head explosions.  “Where do you think I’ve been getting the shells for my gun?”

You sink onto a nearby crate, feeling faint. "Could I have had my head blown off at any moment this entire time?"

"If it makes you feel better, my scrambler's been blocking the signal in here so you were safe near me," Sebastian offers helpfully. "Otherwise..." He makes that 'pop' gesture again.

"Stop doing that!" You swat at his hands. "This isn't funny! I could have... my head could have..." You pause, then glare at him. "Why are you trying not to laugh?"

"I'm not," he says, but his third eye is definitely twinkling with amusement. "It's just... your face when I told you..."

"Oh sure, laugh it up, scale-boy. Not all of us are used to casual murder-fashion." You cross your arms. "Next you'll tell me my boots have piranha teeth in them."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs. "The piranhas are in the gloves."

"WHAT?!"

"Kidding! I'm kidding!" He catches you as you try to fling your gloves across the room. "Though the flippers do have a small taser function-"

"SEBASTIAN!"

He finally breaks, all three eyes crinkling as he laughs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Come on, let's get the murder gear disarmed."

You follow him to his table, still muttering. "Can't believe I've been wearing a bomb this entire time."

"Honestly the least of your worries," Sebastian deadpans as he starts working on the helmet.

"Why am I more mad about this than anything else?" you grumble. 

"You’re losing your mind over it, it’s true."

"Too soon!"

His third hand pats your shoulder consolingly while the others work. "Look on the bright side; you've been rocking bomb-chic this whole time without even knowing it. That's pretty impressive."

"I hate you so much right now."

"No you don't," he says cheerfully, carefully extracting the device. "You think I'm dynamite."

You groan and bury your face in your hands. "Please tell me we're almost done with the explosive puns."

"They are pretty bomb."

"I'm leaving you for P.AI.nter."

His laughter echoes through the shop, and despite yourself, you find you're smiling too. Because really, what else can you do when you find out you've been unwittingly cosplaying as a walking IED this whole time?

-

"Testing, testing," you whisper into the walkie-talkie, keeping close to the wall. "Can you both hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Sebastian's voice crackles back. "Though you don't need to whisper yet, nothing hostile in your immediate vicinity."

"Force of habit," you reply, moving carefully down the corridor. "Being in a facility full of escaped experiments and murderous teenagers tends to make one cautious."

"Speaking of which," P.AI.nter's synthesized voice joins in, "I'm detecting movement in the oxygen gardens."

You pause mid-step. "Lacey's group?"

"I don’t thiiink so?" Sebastian responds, his tone shifting to something more serious. "These signatures are... different."

You peek around the corner and immediately pull back. "Oh my god, not the vine people again.  I’m not going that way fuck that."

"Ah. Yes. They've... grown since I last saw them."

"Grown is an understatement," you mutter,  watching a garden of vine creatures congregating in an unkempt grassy area in the next room, "P.AI.nter, any sign of human prisoners nearby?"

"I’m flipping through cameras," he responds. "I see a few girls walking together through an admin area, the elevator’s out so they seem to be trying to figure out a way down."

You check your gear, making sure everything's secure. "That has to be Lacey's group. Or at least... I hope it's Lacey's group."

"Better than the botany department's experiments," Sebastian offers.

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

You take a deep breath, waiting for the vine creature to settle in to its new home. "Right. Just another day in paradise. P.AI.nter, can you guide me around the girls?"

"I’d avoid admin altogether, they seem to be gathering there there.."

"Gotcha." You start moving again, keeping your steps light. "Sebastian, you still there?"

"Always," he responds softly. "Be careful, Holly."

"Aren't I always?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that?"

You smile despite yourself. "Fair point. I'll radio if I find anything."

"Or if anything finds you," P.AI.nter adds helpfully.

"Thanks for that mental image," you mutter, approaching the maintenance shaft. "Here goes nothing."

As you begin your descent, you try not to think about all the things that could go wrong. At least this time you know your gear won't explode, though Sebastian's delayed revelation about that particular feature still makes you want to smack him.

One step at a time. Avoid Lacey. Avoid monsters. Simple enough.

Right?

"How's the aquatic courier service going?" you ask over the walkie-talkie, keeping your voice low as you navigate the maintenance shaft.

"On my third trip," Sebastian replies, slightly out of breath. "These data crates are heavier than they look. And the wildlife is... enthusiastic today."

"Enthusiastic how?"

"Let's just say the searchlights are particularly interested in what I'm carrying." There's a pause, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged. "Though they tend to back off when they realize I'm not exactly standard prey."

"Your mutations finally coming in handy?"

"The extra arm helps with carrying the crates. The scales and enhanced strength help with everything else." He grunts, and you hear the sound of water sloshing. "The ability to breathe underwater is particularly useful when hauling sensitive equipment through flooded sections."

P.AI.nter interjects, "Sebastian is currently the only one capable of safely transporting the data storage units to The Ridge."

"Lucky me," Sebastian mutters. "Though I could do without the attention from my fellow experiments."

You pause at a junction, checking both directions. "How much more needs to be moved?"

"Four more trips, minimum. Each crate contains years of research data, facility logs, personnel files..." He trails off, and you can hear the weight in his voice.

"Your leverage," you say softly.

"Our leverage," he corrects. "Every experiment, every test subject, every 'accident' they covered up. It's all here." There's another splash, followed by a muffled curse. "Assuming I can get it all to The Ridge without dropping it or getting eaten."

"Most things don’t want to bother him," P.AI.nter offers. "Kindred spirits I guess."

You smile slightly, continuing your careful descent. "Just be careful out there. We need that data... but we need you in one piece more."

"Worried about me?"

"Always."

There's a pause, filled only by the sound of water and his movement. "I'll be fine," he says finally, voice gentler. "This is what they modified me for, after all. Might as well use it against them."

"Poetic justice," P.AI.nter observes.

"Something like that," Sebastian agrees. "Hold on- got company. Going silent for a bit."

You listen to the static, trying not to worry. After what feels like an eternity, his voice returns.

"All clear. I scared some expendables out of a sunken passage."

"I could coax eyefestation over if they’re gonna be a problem," P.AI.nter suggests.

"Save it as a last resort, kid," Sebastian responds amid another splash. "Almost to lower docks. How's your search going, Holly?"

You peer down the shaft, checking for movement. "I found a collapsed shaft, partially underwater."

"Be careful. It’s hard to hear the anglers in the water."

"I'll keep that in mind." You pause. "Sebastian?"

"Yeah?"

"When this is all over... we're going swimming somewhere normal.."

His laugh echoes through the static. "Deal."

You continue your descent, listening to the occasional updates from Sebastian about his aquatic adventures.

You kneel beside a fallen expendable, their wetsuit identical to your old one. "I saw this one the other day," you report into the walkie-talkie. "It looks like blunt force trauma."

"P.AI.nter saw some infighting before you came back," Sebastian responds matter-of-factly. "some came back, some didn't."

There's no remorse in his voice, just stating facts. After discovering his innocence, his decade of imprisonment, you understand why.

"How many died before the revivals started?" you ask, standing up.

"Hundreds," he replies. "When I released everything, overloaded the systems... it was chaos. Exactly what I wanted. The fact that some of us started coming back afterward? That was unexpected."

You step around another body, their hand still reaching for a sealed door. "You don't feel guilty about it?"

"Why should I?" His voice is steel. "They kept me here for ten years, Holly. Used me. Experimented on me. The ones who died knowing what this place was? They deserved it. The ones who didn't know? They were still part of the machine."

"I don’t even know when it started," P.AI.nter adds.

You pass a cluster of bodies huddled together, suggesting they were brought in as a group. "And now some of us die and come back, and others just... stay dead."

"That's not on me," Sebastian says firmly. "I did what I had to do. What happened after,  the revivals, the permanent deaths, that's just how things played out."

"I see more bodies ahead," P.AI.nter announces.

They're lying together, hands linked. You wonder if they died before or after the revivals started, if they ever had a chance to come back.

"How many times have I died?" you say quietly.

"Eighty-four," Sebastian responds, you didn’t know he kept track. 

"He kept a tally," P.AI.nter teases.

"I did not!" Sebastian protests, causing P.AI.nter to laugh. 

You step carefully past the three linked bodies, continuing your search. "Not everyone here was guilty, Sebastian."

"No," he agrees, "but everyone here was part of the system. A system that needed to burn." There's a pause. "I won't carry guilt for them, Holly. I did what was necessary. What happens now, who lives, who dies, who comes back, that's just the aftermath."

The emergency lights flicker as you move deeper into the facility. Each body you pass is a reminder of the chaos Sebastian unleashed, of his calculated revenge against those who wronged him. He doesn't apologize for it, doesn't soften the truth with regret.

And maybe he's right. Maybe after ten years of innocence ignored, of being used and changed, remorse would be a luxury he can't afford.

You're still among the returning. Still breathing. Still fighting.

And Sebastian? He's exactly what they made him,  someone who stopped caring about collateral damage long ago.

"Another one," you murmur softly, kneeling beside the woman you met at the cafeteria your second time through. You gently close her eyes. "Rest easy."

"You don't have to do that," Sebastian says over the walkie-talkie, a hint of something softer in his usually steel-hard voice. "They're past caring."

"Maybe," you reply, standing. "But someone should care. Someone should... remember them as people, not numbers."

"Even the ones who deserved what they got?"

You step carefully around another fallen expendable. "Even them. We're all just people who ended up here, one way or another. Some by choice, some by force, some by circumstance."

Sebastian sighs, and you can hear a smile in his voice when he speaks. "This is why you're better than me, Holly. You still have room for compassion. I lost that somewhere between year three and four of being their prisoner."

"You don't need to carry that weight," you tell him, pausing to straighten a fallen ID card next to a body. "I can hold enough compassion for both of us."

"The facility's gravekeeper," he says, but there's warmth in his tone now. "Caring for the dead."

You find another cluster of bodies, they looked like they didn’t look away from eyefestation quick enough. "Everyone deserves to be remembered as human. Even here. Especially here."

"That's what makes you different," he says quietly. "Why you're still... whole, in ways I'm not. Don't ever lose that, Holly. Don't let this place take it from you like it took everything from me."

You think about your eighty-four deaths, your eighty-four returns. "I won't. I promise."

"Good," he says simply.

You continue through the facility, marking each fallen soul with a moment of acknowledgment, a silent witness to their final rest. Sebastian may have lost his capacity for mourning, but you'll carry it for him. For all of them.

You take a small detour down to P.AI.nter's server room, you’d promised after all. The corridor leading to his space looks different now, reinforced walls, new security measures, a sleek keypad beside the door.

"The code is 7-2-4-8-9," P.AI.nter's voice comes through both the walkie-talkie and the room's speakers. There's an undercurrent of excitement in his usually measured tone.

The keypad beeps softly as you enter the numbers, and the heavy door slides open with a pneumatic hiss. Inside, P.AI.nter's servers hum steadily, lights blinking in their familiar patterns.

"Thank you for coming, I missed you," he says, doodled face smiling brightly. "Can you do me a favour?  Can you press the imaginary friend remote against my monitor again?"

You approach his main terminal,"You really miss them when they're gone, don't you?"

"She’s nice and knows a lot about art," There's a pause, almost shy.

You pick the remote up from the table and press it against his monitor. The familiar red glow emerges, coalescing into the form you've seen before.

"P.AI.nter," a warm, feminine voice emanates from the red figure. "I missed you dearly."

"Ruby!" P.AI.nter responds cheerfully, his synthesized voice carrying a warmth you've never heard before. You blink in surprise, you hadn't known the red figure had a name.

The figure, Ruby, swirls and shifts in what seems like joy as P.AI.nter continues, "There’s so much to tell you!  Holly came back!"

“Holly! It’s nice to see all your organs undamaged,” Ruby smiles at you, in probably the most unsettling way.

You watch the two artificial intelligences begin their reunion, fascinated by this glimpse into their relationship. You hadn't realized their connection was quite so... personal.

"I'll leave you two to catch up," you say, heading for the door.

"Thank you, Holly," P.AI.nter says sincerely. 

"It’s nothing," you reply simply.

As you leave, you hear Ruby's melodic voice asking about recent events, P.AI.nter's tone more animated than you've ever heard it. The door slides shut behind you, sealing the two artificial beings in their own private world.

Sebastian's voice crackles through your walkie-talkie. "Did you do the thing?"

"Yeah," you smile. "P.AI.nter's got his friend back. I didn't know she had a name; Ruby."

"Ah," Sebastian sounds amused. "So you finally met Ruby properly. He's different when she's around. More..."

"Human?" you suggest.

"Alive," Sebastian corrects. "Which is ironic, considering neither of them are technically alive in the conventional sense."

You start making your way back to your original route. "Sometimes the least human things here show the most humanity."

"Deep thoughts from the facility philosopher," Sebastian teases, but there's understanding in his voice.

Behind you, P.AI.nter's reinforced server room hums with activity, housing two beings that exist beyond normal understanding, sharing something that feels remarkably like love.

Just another surprise in a facility full of them.

Chapter Text

You emerge into what can only be described as something out of a movie villain's lair, and the heat hits you like a physical wall. Actual magma bubbles and churns below, casting an angry red glow across the metal catwalks suspended above it. The air is thick and sulphurous, making your eyes water and your lungs burn. The space is massive, a cathedral of industrial horror with pipes and conduits running along the walls, disappearing into the gloom above where the magma's glow can't reach.

"Hey Sebastian?" you speak into the walkie-talkie, taking in the massive chamber before you. "I think I found something interesting. There's this huge room with... is that actual magma below?"

"Ah," his voice crackles through, accompanied by the sound of him moving crates. "You've found the Mantle Extraction, I never worked there but people who did said it sucked."

"It's... beautiful," you admit, watching the patterns in the molten rock below. The red glow bathes everything in warm light, reflecting off the industrial-grade catwalks and maze of pipes above. "Terrifying, but beautiful."

"You probably shouldn't cross through there without proper equipment," he says. "There should be a control room nearby. Look for a reinforced door with yellow hazard stripes. Can you see it?"

You scan the walls and spot it. "Yeah, about twenty feet to my left."

"Perfect. Inside you'll find thermal protection suits with an oxygen mask. They're designed specifically for maintenance work in the chamber. Get one of those on before you try crossing." There's a pause as he moves something heavy. 

"Found the suits," you say, stepping into the surprisingly well-maintained control room. "They look like something out of a sci-fi movie."

"The cameras ahead are clear," P.AI.nter chimes in cheerfully.

“I doubt anyone else would go this route,” you say as you start pulling on the silver-lined suit. It's surprisingly flexible. "This feels more professional than I expected. I was picturing something more... mad scientist-y. I look kinda cute."

Sebastian chuckles. "How's the fit?"

"Good, actually." You seal the final clasp and immediately feel better as the suit's cooling system kicks in. "Much better than being out there in just clothes."

"Sebastian, behind you in the corridors there are two expendables," P.AI.nter adds. "They look older so I doubt they’re a part of the gang."

“Copy,” Sebastian responds.

"Woah," you say, stepping back out onto the catwalk, feeling much more confident. The suit takes the edge off the oppressive heat, and the filtered air is a blessing. "This is... actually kind of cool now that I'm not cooking alive."

"You’re weird," Sebastian says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Just watch your step, the catwalks can get slippery from the condensation."

"Speaking of watching steps," P.AI.nter interjects, "I just saw one of those behind you step on a squiddle’s foot… tentacle foot."

“Hah, sucks to suck,” Sebastian laughs.

Carefully you make your way across the chamber. With the suit on, you can actually take in the engineering marvel around you. The magma flows through carefully constructed channels below, and you can see how the heat is being harnessed through the extensive pipe network above.

"This is incredible," you breathe. "The whole place is like a massive machine."

"It is quite the achievement," Sebastian agrees. "If it wasn’t bathed in blood and horrible ethics it would be worthwhile."

The suit's heads-up display shows your oxygen levels, you keep an eye on it, taking special care to breathe slowly. "I watch too many movies, this looks like a place where a dramatic climax would happen."

"Don’t jinx it," Sebastian deadpans. "I’m half expecting that shithead kid to show up and duel you on the catwalk with swords."

You continue your careful traverse, now able to appreciate the chamber's bizarre beauty without fear of melting. The magma creates ever-changing patterns below, and the engineering around you speaks to human ingenuity, even if it was ultimately used for questionable purposes.

"Almost across," you report, watching the temperature readings on your HUD fluctuate as you pass over a particularly active section. "This suit is amazing. Whoever designed this place really knew what they were doing."

"It's almost a shame they used all this brilliant engineering for..." Sebastian trails off. "Well, you know."

"For torturing people and conducting heinous experiments?" you suggest.

"Yeah, it really puts a black mark on their scientific achievement." You hear him grunt as he lifts another crate.

You smile, reaching the far side of the chamber. The suit has made what could have been a terrifying traverse into something almost enjoyable. "Made it across."

"Good, that was terrible on my nerves," Sebastian replies.

You step through the exit door, putting the suit in the lockers by the airlock. Trust this place to turn even something as dangerous as a magma chamber into a testament to human engineering. 

"Hey Sebastian?" you speak into the walkie-talkie, taking in the bizarre sight before you. "Remember how I said this place couldn't get weirder after the magma chamber?"

"Why do I feel like you're about to prove yourself wrong?" His voice crackles through, accompanied by the splashing water.

You stare at the corridor ahead, trying to process what you're seeing. The sterile facility walls have given way to something... organic. The surfaces pulse gently, like breathing tissue, with a texture reminiscent of raw meat. Grotesque protrusions that look disturbingly like tumours bulge from the walls and ceiling, their surface glossy and wet.

"The walls are made of meat," you say flatly. "Like, actual living meat. It's... breathing."

There's a long pause. "What?"

"Meat. Living meat. With tumours." You take a cautious step forward, grimacing at the way the fleshy floor gives slightly under your feet. "I'm walking through what looks like the inside of a giant organism. It's warm in here, and everything's... pulsing."

"I didn’t let out any meat…" Sebastian mutters. "Maybe you should backtrack? Find another way around?"

You look behind you at the long way around, then ahead at the organic tunnel. "This is still the fastest route. And it's not... aggressive? Just weird. Really, really weird." You mutter, carefully stepping around a particularly large growth that reminds you uncomfortably of a heart.

The passage branches into several rooms, all similarly transformed. Some of the tumours glow faintly with bioluminescence, casting a soft, pinkish light that makes the whole scene even more surreal. The air is warm and humid, with an odd but not unpleasant organic smell.

"It's almost beautiful, in a horrifying way," you muse, watching patterns of light pulse through veiny structures in the walls. "Like someone took normal human tissue and decided to make architecture out of it. There are chambers here that look like they were once offices, but now they're these organic pods."

"Are you... admiring the meat rooms?" Sebastian asks incredulously.

“You know what you signed up for, I’m weird.” You continue through the organic maze, your shoes making soft squishing sounds on the fleshy floor. "Some of these growths look almost like furniture now. There's what I think used to be a desk, but it's been absorbed and reshaped into this smooth flesh desk"

"Weird," Sebastian sighs, but you can hear the fond amusement in his voice.

"And you like me," you counter, carefully stepping over a threshold that's become a rippling membrane.

"Fair point," he concedes. You hear him grunt as he lifts another crate. "Just try not to touch anything that looks like it might touch back."

You pass through what must have been a break room, now transformed into a chamber of undulating flesh with smooth protrusions that still somehow serve as tables and chairs. "It's like it's not trying to destroy or replace, just... coexist. Convert. The machines and electronics are untouched, they're just surrounded by tissue now."

"Well, as long as it's friendly flesh architecture," Sebastian says sarcastically. "Nothing concerning about that at all."

"Considering everything else in this place has tried to kill me, I'll take happy meat rooms," you say, ducking under a low-hanging growth that pulses with a soft pink glow.

"Your standards for what constitutes a good day need serious revision," he mutters, but you can hear him smiling.

You continue through the organic labyrinth, thankfully it wasn’t too long before you open the doors into yet another admin wing.  Desks and computers line the lavish looking red halls.  At the other end of the hall you spot a familiar shape, in a panic you dive into side room, closing the door behind you.

"Sebastian," you whisper urgently into the walkie-talkie, pressed against the wall of a cramped supply room. "Lacey's here. I can see her."

The silence on the other end is heavy. When Sebastian speaks, his voice is cold in a way you've rarely heard. "She survived then. That kid was always good at hiding." There's a dark undertone to his words that reminds you of what he was like during those hours he thought you were dead.

"You sound like you're not surprised," you whisper, watching through the crack as she moves through the admin area. 

"I hunted her," he says simply. "After... after I thought I'd lost you. She kept slipping away. Always just out of reach." You hear him set something down heavily. "She learned fast how to survive in here."

"She's checking the offices systematically," you report, pressing further into the shadows. "But something's different about her. The way she moves..."

"She's not the same scared kid they brought in anymore," Sebastian says grimly. 

"The admin areas aren't equipped with turrets," P.AI.nter whispers, a note of concern in his digital voice. "I have nothing to hack into. I think it's on a different system."

"It’s okay kid," Sebastian reassures. "Holly, can you get out of there?"

"No clear path," you murmur, watching Lacey pause at another terminal. "She's between me and any exit."

"Of course she is," he says bitterly. 

Through the crack in the door, you watch her. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows under her eyes, she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her EXR-P uniform hangs loose on her frame, stained with God-knows-what from her endless attempts to reach the crystal. But it's her expression that chills you, the dead-eyed determination of someone who's run out of other options.

"She knows I'm here," you whisper, realization dawning. "Just like she knew when you were coming for her, didn't she?"

"Yes," he answers quietly. "She must be connected to the main system, NAVI."

Lacey stops directly outside your door, the silence heavy and deliberate. She doesn't immediately burst in, another change from the impulsive kid she used to be.

"I know you're in there," she calls out, voice flat with exhaustion. "Always hiding. Always watching while other people die trying to get home." A hollow laugh. "But your monster boyfriend isn't here to save you this time. He never is, you know. You could do better. Not that you'll get the chance."

Your breath catches as her hand rests on the door.

"We need to end this," she continues, and for a moment you hear the teenager she should have been. "I'm so fucking tired of all of it. The running. The hiding. Watching my friends die because you decided to play beauty and the beast in hell."

"Holly," Sebastian's voice is tense. "Whatever happens-"

"I know," you whisper, eyes fixed on the door. 

The door crashes open and Lacey stands there, looking both older and younger than nineteen. The harsh lights make the dark circles under her eyes look like bruises. She's lost weight since your last encounter, her uniform hanging loose, but there's a dangerous steadiness to her stance.

"God, you're so predictable," she says, no trace of her former bravado. Just cold certainty. "My friends saw you crossing that lava room thing. Like, where else were you gonna go, right?"

Through the walkie-talkie, you hear Sebastian's sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah, I've still got people watching everything," Lacey continues, taking a measured step forward. "The ones who survived, anyway. Thanks for that. Real fucking noble of you."

"Lacey-" you start, remembering how young she looked when they first brought her in.

"It's just so messed up," she cuts you off, voice cracking with bone deep weariness. "We just wanted to go home. That's all. But you had to start whoring out for that thing.  Oh yeah, we know, you gross bitch.  NAVI has more control than you think she does."

"Holly," Sebastian whispers, "be careful."

Lacey's eyes snap to the radio in your hand. Something dark flashes across her face. "Is that him? Right now?" Her voice rises slightly, the first crack in her composed facade. "Are you actually on the phone with him? While I'm standing right fucking here?"

You wince at the raw hatred in her voice.

"Always him," Lacey says, her hand sliding into her pocket. The movement is casual, but there's nothing casual about her eyes. "Always listening, always watching."

"Lacey, please," you say softly. "You don't have to-"

But Lacey lunges before he can finish, surprisingly fast for someone so exhausted. You barely dodge, feeling a blade slice through your sleeve. You didn’t even notice she had one in her hands; she's done playing games.

"Hold still," she snarls, spinning to face you. "Just fucking hold still and let me end this!"

You scramble backward, knocking over a shelf of cleaning supplies. Bottles crash around you as Lacey advances, her movements precise despite her rage. She's learned too much from watching Sebastian hunt.

"I trusted you," she spits, slashing again. This time the blade catches your arm, drawing blood. "You were supposed to help us. But you chose him. That thing. And for what?"

"Lacey, stop-"

"No more stopping!" She charges forward, blade aimed at your throat. "No more running! No more watching my friends die while you play house with a monster!"

You dive to the side, but your foot slips on spilled cleaner. Lacey's on you before you can recover, pinning you down with surprising strength. The blade hovers inches from your face.

"Just die," she whispers, and you see tears in her eyes despite her flat tone. "Just fucking die so we can go home."

The void locker's breathing fills the small space with an unnatural rhythm; in, out, in, out. Through its slats, dozens of luminous red eyes pulse with ancient hunger, casting sickly ribbons of light across the floor. You've seen what these things can do. What they leave behind. Which is nothing.

You buck upward suddenly, catching Lacey off-guard. Her exhaustion works against her; her grip loosens just enough. You surge forward, using her own momentum to spin her toward the void locker.

"No," she whispers, all pretense of toughness evaporating. "No, please, I've seen what they do-"

The locker door creaks open behind her with a sound like tearing flesh. Dark tendrils, deeper than black, writhe out and wrap around her arms. She screams; high and young and terrified, as they start to pull.

"Help me!" Her fingers dig into your forearms hard enough to draw blood. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry about everything!" The void begins to dissolve her where it touches, her skin going translucent, then dark, then nothing. "Mom!" she sobs, tears running down her face. "I want my mom!"

You try to step back but she holds on tighter, her nails leaving deep crescents in your skin. More tendrils emerge, wrapping around her waist, her legs. She kicks violently, shoes scuffing against the floor, leaving desperate marks as she's dragged backward.

"I don't want to die!" Her voice cracks. "Please! I'll do anything! I'll-" A tendril wraps around her throat, cutting off her words. Her eyes are wide with primal terror as the void pulls harder.

Your hands shake as you pry her fingers loose. She makes one last grab for you but misses.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tears streaming down your face as you watch the darkness consume her. Her screams become wet, distorted, as the void breaks down her throat, her lungs. Her body twists unnaturally as it's pulled in, bones cracking, skin rippling like water.

With trembling hands, you grab the locker door. The last thing you see is her face contorted in agony and fear. Her mouth forms the word "please" one final time before you slam the door shut.

The screaming continues for several long seconds, muffled by metal and void, before finally stopping. The locker resumes its breathing, satisfied with its meal. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor, blood from your scratched arms mixing with your tears.

"Holly?" Sebastian's voice is soft from the radio. He heard everything. "It would be kinder if she stayed gone this time."

“You’re right, you’re so right but I hate it. I hate what happened. I hate this fucking place and all the bullshit.” You press your palms against your eyes, but you can't stop seeing her face, can't stop hearing her call for her mother.

"Three hallways to the left," Sebastian's voice crackles through the walkie-talkie. "There's a security door, half-jammed. We'll be waiting."

You push yourself away from the void locker, legs unsteady. The corridors blur past as you run, the pristine admin wing giving way to industrial hallways.

Chapter Text

"The submarine dock is on the lowest level," he says, his masked face turning back to you. "Just follow the signs once you have it. The emergency lighting should be enough to guide you, but..." His clawed hand settles carefully on your shoulder. "When the power goes, that darkness before the backups... that's when they'll try to move. They've been waiting for a chance like this."

"How long will I have?" You check your gear one last time: flashlight, radio, the tools you'll need for the crystal containment unit.

"No idea. Could be minutes, could be seconds. Just... be ready." His tail coils restlessly, armored plates shifting. "P.AI.nter will be blind during the blackout. I'll do what I can from the maintenance tunnels, but..."

"But I'll be on my own," you finish. The weight of what you're about to do settles heavy in your chest.

"Holly." you hear the break in his voice. "After what happened with Lacey... they'll be desperate. Angry. If they catch you with the crystal-"

"They won't." You try to sound more confident than you feel. The memory of Lacey's face as the void took her is still too fresh.

"I know the fastest way to the submarine dock. I'll keep the cameras on you as long as I can." P.AI.nter’s usual cheerful expression shifts to a concerned frown. "Just... be careful in there, okay?"

Sebastian pulls you close suddenly, pressing his forehead to yours. His tail wraps around you both, and you feel everything he's not saying in the way his clawed hands cradle your face, the way his lure dims.
When he finally pulls back, his glowing eyes are bright with fear and something else. "Don’t die," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

- 

The Ridge's corridors stretch before you in a corporate maze of steel and glass. Every few meters, another window offers a view of the crystal chamber below; the massive energy source casting its pale orange glow through reinforced panes. The abundance of monitoring stations speaks to its importance: endless rows of consoles displaying power outputs, containment readings, conversion rates.

Your radio crackles. "...careful near junction..." Sebastian's voice fights through the interference. "...signal's bad down there..."

The sound of breathing echoes from somewhere ahead, making you freeze. It's too regular to be machinery, too labored to be normal. You press yourself against a wall, listening. The sound fades, then returns, closer now.

"Sebastian?" you whisper into the radio, but only get bursts of static in response. You're essentially on your own.

Another junction appears ahead, three identical hallways branching off, each offering different angles of the crystal below. The monitoring stations cast just enough light to create overlapping shadows, making it impossible to tell if someone's hiding in the darkness.

The breathing sounds again, wet and desperate. Could be survivors from Lacey's group, looking for another way to the crystal. Could be horrors you haven’t seen before. Either way, you can't afford to be caught.

You check your flashlight, making sure it's ready for when you'll need it. The power cut is coming, and with it will come darkness. Real darkness. The kind that-

Something shuffles in the shadows ahead. You press yourself against a console, heart pounding. The breathing grows closer, then fades down a different corridor.

Just a few more sections to go. Just a few more turns until you reach the crystal chamber itself. You can do this. You have to do this.

The crystal's orange glow illuminates the circular chamber, casting long shadows from the forest of terminals surrounding its platform. Your footsteps echo on the metal grating as you approach the containment controls. Below, absolute darkness yawns into forever; no bottom visible, just an endless void beneath the suspended platform.

The crystal pulses gently as your fingers dance across the nearest console, entering the sequence on the placard detailing the override release. The containment tube feels heavy in your pack, specially designed to safely transport the energy source.

A warning flashes across the nearest screen: "CONTAINMENT PROTOCOLS DISENGAGING - CONFIRM?"

Your finger hovers over the key. Once you do this, you'll have minutes, maybe less, to get the crystal and find your way to the submarine dock in darkness.

You press enter.

The crystal's housing hisses as mechanical arms retract. The orange glow intensifies briefly, then:

Darkness. Complete, absolute darkness crashes over you like a physical wave. The kind of darkness that makes you forget what light even looks like. The hum of machinery dies, leaving only your breathing and the sound of your heart pounding.

You fumble for your flashlight with shaking hands, aware of how exposed you are. The beam seems impossibly weak against the overwhelming black, barely illuminating a few feet ahead. The crystal's glow provides the only other reference point in the void.

Carefully, you edge forward on the platform. One wrong step and you'll fall into that bottomless darkness below. The crystal seems to pulse faster now, like it knows what's coming. Like it's watching you approach.

Your hands shake as you lift the crystal from its housing. Even through the special containment tube, you can feel its warmth, its weight. The orange glow seems to pulse in time with your racing heart as you secure it in your pack.

A sound echoes from somewhere in the darkness, footsteps on metal grating, multiple sets. Your flashlight beam swings wildly as you spin around, trying to locate the source. The light catches nothing but empty terminals and endless black.

"Hey," a voice whispers through your patchy radio, barely audible through static. "...move now... they're coming..."

Sebastian. Even broken up, his voice steadies you. You click off your flashlight, no sense making yourself an obvious target, and start moving. The crystal's glow in your pack provides just enough light to navigate the platform's edge. Each step has to be perfect. One slip and you'll fall into that infinite darkness below.

More footsteps, closer now. Whispers. They know you're here. They've been waiting for this blackout, waiting for their chance.

Your foot catches an uneven section of grating. The metallic clang seems deafening in the darkness. The whispers stop.

"There!" someone shouts. Multiple flashlight beams cut through the black, searching.

You run. The platform feels impossibly narrow in the dark. The crystal bounces against your back with each step, its orange glow marking your position like a beacon. Behind you, the footsteps break into a run.

"Stop her!"

"Don't let her take it!"

"It's our only way home!"

The edge of the platform looms ahead, the doorway back into the facility's maze of corridors. You throw yourself through it just as a flashlight beam finds your previous position. The crystal's glow illuminates signs on the wall, submarine dock arrows pointing left.

The crystal barely illuminates your path as you sprint through the corridors. Your flashlight clatters away into the darkness behind you, forgotten in your panic. Heavy footsteps follow, voices calling out, until the first scream cuts through the black.

A wet, tearing sound. Another scream, closer this time, transforming into a gurgling cry that ends abruptly. The footsteps become chaotic, people shouting in confusion and terror.

"Oh god, what is that?!"

Each death brings new sounds: ripping flesh, cracking bones, the splash of something viscous moving through the darkness. You run faster, following the submarine dock signs by the crystal's dim orange light, trying to block out the nightmare chorus behind you.

You round a corner and freeze. The orange glow illuminates something that shouldn't exist - a mass of writhing darkness that seems to eat the light itself. Red eyes, thousands of them, open across its surface like bloody stars. They all turn to focus on you.

And there, half-emerged from the void-stuff, is Lacey. Her body hangs limp, suspended in the black ooze, but her skin... her skin is wrong. More eyes, glowing that same terrible red, burst from her flesh like bloody tears. Her mouth hangs open at an impossible angle, jaw distended.

"Hhhh...olly..." The sound bubbles from her throat, barely recognizable as speech.

You see them then, other bodies partially dissolved into the creature. Arms, legs, faces frozen in terror, all sprouting those horrible red eyes. Everyone who tried to stop you. Everyone who got in its way.

The void creature shifts, Lacey's broken body swaying with the movement. Her hatred, her desperation, her need for revenge, it's all given form in this nightmare of eyes and darkness.

The thing rears up, and the scream that tears from it is like metal being shredded, like souls being torn apart. Like every death it's caused echoing at once.

The void creature surges forward, Lacey's body jerking like a grotesque puppet. You stumble backward, the crystal's glow catching each horrible detail; the way her skin ripples as new eyes burst open, the black void-stuff dripping from her mouth.

The thing that used to be Lacey reaches for you with an arm that's more void than flesh. You dive sideways as void-tendrils whip through the air where you stood. They leave smoking marks on the metal wall.

The creature screeches again, the sound piercing your skull. Lacey's body convulses, more eyes opening across her face until her features are almost unrecognizable.

"Home..." the thing growls through multiple mouths. "Want... to go... HOME!"

It launches itself at you, a tsunami of darkness and eyes and partially-dissolved bodies. You run, the crystal bouncing against your back. Behind you, wet slithering sounds echo through the corridor as the creature gives chase.

You sprint through the darkness, the wet sounds of the void creature's pursuit echo behind you; a horrible slithering mixed with the crunch of its absorbed bodies hitting walls as it moves.

"Can't... escape..." Lacey's distorted voice reverberates through the corridor. "Never... escape..."

A void tendril whips past your head, sizzling as it strikes metal. The creature is getting faster, more desperate. You can hear multiple voices now, bleeding together from its mass; all the people it's consumed, all crying out in a twisted chorus.

The submarine dock sign reflects orange in the crystal's light; pointing right. You turn sharply, sneakers squealing on metal flooring. The void creature crashes into the wall behind you, its thousands of eyes blinking in erratic patterns.

"MINE!" The scream comes from dozens of throats at once. "THE CRYSTAL... MINE!"

You burst through a maintenance door onto a catwalk, the void creature's screeches echoing behind you. The submarine dock stretches below, a massive chamber bathed in emergency red lighting. Through the crystal's light, you spot Sebastian and P.AI.nter far below, surrounded by crates of stolen data.

The void mass crashes through the door behind you, Lacey's eye-covered body lurching forward. "Won't... let you... LEAVE!"

You look down at Sebastian, then at the writhing horror approaching. No time to reach the stairs. No time to think.

"SEBASTIAN!" you scream, already climbing the railing. "CATCH ME!"

His face snaps up, glowing eyes widening. "Holly, don't you fucking dare-"

You jump.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Sebastian shouts, but he's already moving, his serpentine form slithering quickly. The crystal's glow trails orange through the air as you fall.

You slam into his arms with enough force to send both of you sprawling across the dock's metal floor. Pain shoots through your shoulder, but his grip never loosens: one clawed hand carefully cradling your head, the other two tight around your waist, his tail instinctively curling around you both.

"Are you insane?!" he gasps, his ear fins twitching as he holds you against his chest. "What if I hadn't-"

The void creature's screech cuts him off. You both look up to see it pouring over the catwalk railing like liquid darkness, thousands of red eyes reflecting in the emergency lights. P.AI.nter's screen flickers with alarm, his simple face contorting with concern.

"Oh shit," Sebastian breathes, his heart pounding with anxiety as he sees Lacey's twisted form at its center. "What the hell did it do to her?"

The backup generators roar to life. Floodlights burst on in sequence around the dock, their harsh white beams cutting through the darkness. The void creature recoils with a sound like tearing metal, its thousands of red eyes blinking rapidly in the sudden brightness.

"The light!" P.AI .nter yells. "It can't handle direct light!"

The thing that used to be Lacey writhes in the void mass, her eye covered body trying to shrink away from the burning lights. The creature retreats, slithering back up the walls and into the facility's shadows, its screech fading to a distant wail.

You're still pressed against Sebastian's chest, both of you breathing hard on the dock floor. His arms haven't loosened their protective grip.

"You absolute lunatic," he pants, running a shaking hand through your hair. "You know I love you but you're so fucking stupid. What if I hadn't caught you? What if…"

You pull back to stare at him, a grin spreading across your face despite everything that just happened. "You love me?"

Sebastian freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes what he said. Blue blush creeps up his neck. "I… that's not… I mean…"

"Haha you said you love me," you tease, watching him squirm.

"I did not," he protests weakly. "You hit your head when you landed, clearly hallucinating."

"Sebastian loves Holly," P.AI.nter chimes in helpfully. "We knew that already though"

"Shut up!" Sebastian groans, but he's fighting a smile now. "Both of you just... shut up."

You lean in close, pressing your forehead against his. "I love you too, you know."

His breath catches. For a moment, he just looks at you, all his carefully maintained walls crumbling. Then he pulls you into a fierce kiss, not caring that you're both still sprawled on the dock floor with data crates scattered around you.

When he finally breaks away, he's trying to glare but failing miserably. "Still doesn't excuse jumping off a fucking catwalk."

"You caught me though."

"I'll always catch you," he says softly, then immediately looks embarrassed at how sincere it came out.

The sleek Innovation Inc submarine breaks the surface in a cascade of water, its polished hull reflecting the dock's floodlights. The logo on its side, a stylized 'i', feels like a promise of safety after everything that's happened.

"About damn time," Sebastian mutters, directing the automated loading systems as they move crate after crate of stolen data onto the sub. His hand hasn't left yours since the void creature retreated, like he's afraid you might try another dramatic stunt if he lets go.

The submarine's crew helps with the final loading, efficient Innovation Inc personnel in crisp uniforms who don't ask questions about the scorch marks on the walls or the distant inhuman sounds still echoing from deep in the facility.

As you board, you take one last look at the blacksite. Somewhere in its depths, a creature with Lacey's twisted body and thousands of red eyes is waiting in the darkness. Somewhere in those corridors, your footprints still mark the path of everything that led to this moment.

Sebastian tugs gently on your hand. "Hey. Time to go."

You follow him into the submarine. The heavy hatch seals behind you with a pneumatic hiss, cutting off the facility's sounds. As the sub begins its descent, you feel Sebastian's arms wrap around you from behind.

"I still can't believe you jumped," he murmurs against your hair.

"I still can't believe you said you love me."

"That's... that's not what happened."

You turn in his arms, grinning. " P.AI .nter, did you get a recording?"

"Don't you dare," he warns, but he's smiling as he pulls you closer.

The submarine slips beneath the waves, leaving the Hadal Blacksite, and all its horrors, behind. You've got the crystal, the data, and somehow, impossibly, you've got each other.

It's more than enough.

Chapter Text

SEVEN MONTHS LATER
LOCATION: REDACTED

The smell of rosemary and garlic fills the kitchen as you lift the brick off the chicken, its skin perfectly crispy golden. Through the open windows, the ocean breeze carries salt and the sound of badly-played guitar chords. You smile, one hand absently rubbing your growing belly as you hear another string snap followed by Sebastian's creative cursing.

"Mom!" your son calls from the living room, where P.AI.nter's friendly monitor face is displayed on the gaming setup screen. "P.AI.nter and I found diamonds!"

"That's great honey, but go wash up," you call back, checking the pasta. "Dinner's almost ready."

"But Mooooom-"

P.AI.nter's display switches to the kitchen screen, his simple digital smile taking on a gentle but firm expression. "You better listen to your mom, the diamonds will be there after supper."

You hear small feet shuffling as you plate the food. The kitchen is everything you dreamed of, all sleek surfaces and high-end appliances, with a view of the private beach through floor-to-ceiling windows. Every room thoughtfully integrated with screens that allow P.AI.nter to move throughout the house, his main servers humming quietly in the basement but his presence felt everywhere.

You step out onto the back deck, bare feet against warm wood. Sebastian is curled around one of the specially reinforced deck chairs, his long tail draped over the deck railing as he struggles with the guitar. 

"You know," you say, watching Sebastian's clawed hands fumble with another string, "they could probably design you a special guitar that won't break."

He looks up, he looks a little frustrated but he's smiling. His glowing eyes drift to your belly, where his child grows. "Maybe. But I want to figure this out myself." He sets the guitar aside carefully. "How are you feeling?"

You move closer, letting Sebastian's hand rest gently on your belly to feel the baby kick. Even after all these months, the way his glowing eyes brighten at the movement makes your heart skip. "Like shit but what can you do, I've had more blood drawn these last few weeks than I have in my entire life, also the amniocentesis was the scariest thing." You complain but you're smiling.

"Yeah that's probably my bad," he says, setting the manhandled guitar down, "I feel like a pin cushion too, if it's any consolation".

You run your hand gently along the fresh bandages on his third arm. "Come on, dinner's ready. And Joshua's dying to tell you about his minecraft adventures."

Sebastian unfolds himself from the chair, his tall, mostly aquatic form moving with that fluid grace you've grown so used to. P.AI.nter's face moves smoothly from screen to screen as you walk through the house, his presence a constant comfort. Through the kitchen window, you can see the compound's security walls, keeping the world out, keeping your family safe.  The sprawling town filled with families of scientists and other staff.  It’s almost normal.

"You know," Sebastian says as you reach the door, "I still can't believe that we got out of there.. That you're..." he trails off, looking at your belly again.

You stretch up to touch his face, fingers tracing the edge where scales give way to the smoother skin. "Honestly this was probably inevitable with all the testing you wanted to do." You playfully flick his lure.

"Ow," he winces, the bioluminescent ball flickers slightly. "Me?! Just be happy it's not eggs."

Inside, Joshua is already at the table, chattering with P.AI.nter about his minecraft world, the dining room screen animated with the AI's enthusiastic expressions. Sebastian has to curl his long form carefully around the specially designed dining chair, his tail wrapping around one leg to keep his balance.

You settle into your chair, watching Sebastian carefully help Joshua cut his chicken into smaller pieces, his clawed hands surprisingly dexterous when he's being careful with their razor edges. The question that's been on your mind slips out before you can stop it.

"I was thinking... now that things are stable, maybe you'd want to try reaching out to your mom? Innovation Inc could arrange it securely."

Sebastian's hands still for a moment, his tensing slightly. In the months since escaping the blacksite, he's mentioned her only a handful of times; always with a mixture of longing and fear. "I... not yet," he says quietly. "How do I even begin to explain this?" He gestures to his towering serpentine form, the glowing eyes, the deadly claws currently helping cut your son's dinner.

"Hey." You reach across the table, placing your hand on his. "Take all the time you need. No rush."

"What about your mom? Have you thought about...?"

You snort, remembering that she didn’t even bother to call you during your divorce. "God no. I'm not ready to hear her opinions about all this." You gesture to your pregnant belly. "Can you imagine? 'Holly, living in a secret compound with your giant sea monster boyfriend while carrying his potentially fish baby? What will the neighbours think?'" You mimic her shrill tone.

Sebastian's ear fins twitch with amusement as he chokes on his water. "Fish baby?"

"Mom," Joshua pipes up, mouth full of chicken, "is the baby really gonna be a fish monster like Sebastian?"

"Hey hey, eat with your mouth closed. And no, your sister is completely human. We've had lots of tests, remember?"

"Aw." Joshua looks disappointed. "A fish sister would be cooler... fishter"

"Humans are pretty neat," P.AI.nter's monitor brightens, “Ruby says human insides look cool.”

“We’re not going there kid,” Sebastian sighs, Ruby’s eccentricities exhausting him.

"Sebastian? Seriously, take your time with your mom. We've got everything we need right here."  You smile, reaching for his hand.

-

The moonlight filters through the beach-facing windows of your sunken circular bed, specially designed to accommodate Sebastian's long, serpentine body. You're on your side, pregnancy pillow supporting your belly, while he curls around you; his dark scales a stark contrast to the white sheets.

"Are you happy?" you ask softly into the darkness. "I know we never really got to choose this. The doctors were so focused on what they could learn, about using the cord blood and stem cells to help understand and fix your DNA..."

Sebastian is quiet for a moment, his clawed hand gentle as it rests on your swollen belly. "If I'm being honest?" he says finally, "I was terrified at first. This whole thing; us, the baby, it happened so fast. And with what I am now..."

You start to turn, but his tail curls around you reassuringly. "But," he continues, "the more time passes, the more I see you with Joshua, the more I feel her move..." His voice grows softer. "Yeah, I'm happy. Scared still, but happy. Even if the research angle wasn't part of it, I'd want this. Want her. Want us."

You reach to tousle his hair. "Thank god we’re in so much therapy, the drugs are cool too."

He chuckles, then grows serious again. "I mean it though. The research, the possibility of understanding what happened to me, that's important. But that's not why I'm glad about this. About her."  His clawed hand spreads wider as the baby kicks. "I didn’t think I deserved anything like this after all the shit I’ve done."

You lace your fingers through his, feeling the baby move beneath your joined hands. "Yeah," you whisper back. "I feel that too, but here we are right?"

"Here we are," he echoes, his voice softening in that way it does when he's deeply moved. You feel a gentle flutter from the baby, she's settling down as you do. Sebastian's hand rests there, his lure pulsing softly. "Sometimes I still can't believe it. That after everything: the facility, the modifications, becoming... this, I get to have something so normal. So good."

You turn to face him more fully, your hand sliding up to stroke your thumb across his cheek. "Hey. You deserve good things. We both do." The familiarity of his features grounds you,the way his eyes still crinkle at the corners when he's happy, how his jaw structure remained even as everything else changed.

"I know," he says, leaning into your touch. "It's just... do you remember what the shrink said in therapy last week? About learning to accept happiness without waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

"While you were busy making that joke about her needing a bigger couch?" You smile, but it's gentle. Understanding.

His lure sways thoughtfully. "Yeah, well, easier than admitting she was right. About a lot of things." His free hand moves to join yours on his face, claws carefully gentle. "I spent so long just... surviving. First the experiments, then being the handyman. Learning to exist in this body. And now I'm here, with you, with a baby on the way..." He pauses in thought. "Joshua asked me to help him with his Minecraft build today. Just... came right up and asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world."

You smile, remembering how nervous Sebastian had been three months ago when Joshua first came to live with you, how carefully he'd moved around your son. "He adores you, you know."

"Yeah," his voice carries a note of wonder. "Never thought I'd get to be around kids, let alone have one actually like me. And now..." His clawed hand stays gentle on your belly, where the baby has settled into her nighttime routine.

"Oh please," P.AI.nter's doodled eyes roll. "He thinks you look really cool, he wanted to draw you today when we were painting."

Sebastian's laugh rumbles through his chest. "Spying again, kid?"

"I prefer calling it 'enthusiastically observing my family,'" P.AI.nter smiles "Also, you're both getting emotional."

You feel Sebastian's tail curl tighter around you, protective and grounding. "Maybe that's the point though," he says slowly. "That we're all just... figuring it out. Together."

"Making our own kind of normal," you murmur, feeling the truth of it settle in your chest. The baby shifts slightly, settling deeper into sleep.