Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Death itself was nearing. Its iron smell emanated from the other side of that door. It is so odd to understand one’s death. Allowing one’s brain to accept the mere minutes it has left to function. Here, however, it made sense. Yes, it makes sense that he would die here. Within this sterile institute of impossible sciences, his life would reach its end, and the harbinger was found outside that puny windowed door. 

As much as it made sense, it was no less terrifying. The echoing sounds of screams, blaring alarms and automatic voice over the loudspeaker calling out a security breach had not existed a mere 5 minutes ago. But to the panicked man within the room, the engulfing sounds felt like they’d always been there. This moment so very long. His sporadic searching for a hiding spot within his containment room was futile. A bed and a fake flower pot were to be the only witnesses of his death. 

And now, with all the raw sounds of gore silenced, Death’s footsteps ring like church bells approaching the cell. The door’s small window was long since painted red by the hallway’s bloodshed. A stretching silhouette was all to be detected with the help of the rotating red alarms behind it. Death was glowing. The man fell back, hitting his elbow on the concrete. The sight was completely enthralling, he dared not to look away as the creaking door handle twisted for what felt like an eternity. 

The ache of the door opening was scarcely heard over the sudden wave of buzzing static. It engulfed the room in its entirety, nearly choking the man as he stared up upon Death. 

Death’s blackened eyes searched around the room, white dots methodically scanned the room for any signs of Life. Its bloodied claws gripped the knife in its hands as a sudden crack cut through the silence. It is as if a spring was set into motion, its body snapped as a sharp glitch ran its course through Death’s body. From this, its head hung awkwardly low, and finally, the precursor laid its animalistic eyes upon its prey. A smile threatened its toothy mouth but stopped as the rampaging beast fully processed the figure in front of him.

A beat passed, and Death’s pointy ears flicked at the sounds of the man’s laboured breathing. They stood in opposition. Simply staring at one another.

A standoff between Life and Death.  

Death’s raspy voice spoke first, “You are ALTR 209135.” It was a statement more than a question.

A shaky nod came from the man.

It was his name within the institute, yes, but not the one he was graced with at birth. It seemed long forgotten now. When was the last time someone called him Jameson?

Jameson knew Death’s name. He had listened to the guard’s murmurs about an ALTR 114209, or Anti. One of IRIS’ most infamous anomalous entities. There was no other entity he knew of that could wrought this must destruction. It must be. He dared not utter his name.

Anti’s eyes never broke contact with his prey. Even when redistributing the weight in his artificial human body, his head managed to stay stable, as if it existed separately from the rest of whatever organism made up the rest of him. 

The man on the floor was a deer in headlights, frozen completely, and in no control of what was to happen to him. Jameson’s tense body shrunk, in a puny attempt to make himself smaller. His frightened grey eyes allowed a sole tear to caress his cheeks. 

With no warning, Death spared Life, turning its back. 

As Anti leaves the room, the wet sounds of bloodied footsteps become distant, echoing in the hallway. 

Like a limp puppet whose strings were pulled all at once, the spared Jameson scrambled to a stand peering his head out of the doorframe. Almost instantly he retracted, looking away from the massacred human remains that littered the hallway. In the silent panic for his life, Jameson had forgotten the piercing screams and gunfire coming from the outer corridor. 

Once Jameson had built up his confidence, he stepped into the carnage. He refused to look down, staring intensely at the blood-splattered walls. What once was a sterile environment of science, presently stood defiled. 

Jameson looked toward where the echoes of Anti’s footsteps rebounded off the walls. Through the smoke he could see Death’s back, still turned. Jameson inhaled sharply, turning to stare at his other option, independence. The choice seemed obvious to him at the moment, no matter how curious he was. Turning longingly toward Anti, he weighed the options once more, but as a whiff of iron spiked in his nose, he sneezed. 

While soft, it was enough to confirm his run for escape hearing Anti’s inhuman body shift to inspect the noise’s origin. Jameson darted in the opposite direction, without a regret in mind.

I am free.  

Chapter Text

“ALTR 209135 has a fractured heel, look.” The doctor pushed the monitor for the second doctor to see. “Seems like their cries of pain were real during that test the other day.” The other doctor hummed, chiming in “There’s some good actors in here.” The first doctor, whose badge read Dr. Veon, scoffed in response, “I only wish we could get to treated the actually hurt ALTRs quicker instead of scanning each one who cries wolf.”

There was a pause in a silent agreement between the two doctors before Dr. Veon swivelled on his chair to face his laptop, adding the fracture to the ALTR’s file. “It will need surgery,” he continued, “but it’ll have to wait until Thursday.” The doctor turned to face the ALTR, whose eyes were fixated on the monitor of his fractured heel. “Until then you’ll wear a brace, and you can not put any weight on this heel. Do you understand?” Dr. Veon had read his patient file, the ALTR could not speak, but it was once a human. British Irish, to be precise, so English should not be an issue.

And yet the ALTR would not respond, completely fascinated by the picture of its heel. ALTR 209135 would gently sway, moving their head to try and see the screen from another angle. They pointed to it, then turned to the doctor. “What is it?” They asked in some form of sign. The doctor, confused for a split second, glanced back at the monitor and back at the ALTR. “That’s your heel,” he explained gently tapping where the injury was sustained. The ALTR winced, but it was not satisfied with the answer.

They thought for a moment, before using his fingers to outline the square shape of the monitor, “What is it?” they asked again.

“Oh!” Dr. Veon understood now, the screen was what confused his patient. “It’s a screen, we can display information on it.”

209135 still looked confused. Dr. Veon was about to explain further, when the second female doctor interrupted, “Let’s get that brace on, shall we?”

While the brace had been on Jameson since Monday, he had not been walking for 2 days. Not only was he instructed, but it hurt bad. Now he was, limping and hopping over a rose slew of dead guards. The ALTR’s right palm was pressed upon the wall as a form of stabilization.

The suppressing static slipped far enough now that the air was clear enough to breathe. As Jameson caught his breath, he scanned the maze around him. The white walls around him gave him a headache. How was he supposed to get out of here? Certainly, someone was alive and would catch him before he could escape. Jameson exhaled nervously, a tightness in his chest as he pushed on.

During his aimless wandering, ALTR 209135 passed by the cells of other ALTRs, test chambers, some sort of lab and a handful of storage closets. Eventually, he found a door labelled “STAFF ONLY.” His heart skipped a beat, pushing the swinging doors open.

The room was a complete blur to him, and only one thing interested him inside. Upon the wall, there was a small map of the facility with the title “EMERGENCY EVACUATION PLAN.”

A desperate voiceless laugh escaped his chapped lips, his grey eyes attempting to memorize the map as best as possible. Straight for 4 doors, then left for 2 and then right until the exit. Jameson smiled, this was his chance to escape!

As quickly as his heel would allow, 209135 followed the map exactly to the exit. The door presented itself like a warm hug. Outside would be the fresh air he dreamed of, a society he was taken from, and now he would reunite with his old friend.

Jameson pushed open the door.

It was the evening, thankfully still somewhat light out. The light blinded him in a way that no IRIS stark white lights could. It hurt its eyes, rubbing them to begin.

As his hands fell from his eyes, the sight of trees brought him to tears, he smiled desperately. While he had no idea where he was, he fell in love with the outdoors immediately. Approaching the tree, his sterile hand approached the naturally uneven surface of the bark, moss and lichen growing as it pleased. The texture was horrid in a beautiful way, Jameson recoiled before caressing the tree. Within his cell, the walls, his chair, his bed, and even his fake plant were all smooth. But this was alive, not artificial. It made him itch, only dared to touch it for a few moments before dusting off his hand on his uniform as if to get rid of the sensation.

Jameson followed the trees further, walking into the brush to nowhere.

Deep in the forest, he wondered if he’d be able to find his house from here. Jameson thought back to when he was brought to the facility, but it had been so long ago, and the memory was surely repressed. Even if he could, would the house still belong to him? The thought worried him, so he decided not to think about it further. For now, his goal was to find somewhere to sleep before it got too dark.

Thankfully for Jameson, the forest was not that big. He had nearly tripped a few times over roots in the dark, but he would not with the distant sight of lights. It confused him how bright they were. Surely simple street lamps could not create this much of a glow?

Jameson approached slowly, in part by his heel, which was now inflamed, and the other part being cautious. The silhouettes of the buildings were unfamiliar. Much more square and geometrical, he noticed. And the noise. He was used to motorcars, but it seemed like there were dozens of them, if not in front of him but to be heard from adjacent streets. His heart pounded, a confused animal approaching civilization for the first time.

It left him uneasy. The lights were too bright, the noises were loud, and the buildings felt like they’d cut him if he got too close.

It’s not the city he was used to from before.

Jameson’s breath was panicked, rapidly growing out of control. He leant against the tree beside him, before sliding down to sit at its base. Raising his leg, 209135 propped his heel upon a small stone to let it rest. Wincing, he settled refusing to look upon the city in front of him. Grey eyes observed the grass underneath him, finally realizing how cold it was as a breeze rushed by.

IRIS is a controlled environment. Everything is monitored from room temperature to the flexibility of an ALTR uniform. Underfed arms hugged his biceps in some puny attempt for warmth.

All Jameson could do now was regain his composure and think of a plan. Going anywhere was not feasible, and he still refused to look at the architecture. However, in sitting here, he felt his eyes drift to a close. After a few failed attempts to stay awake, Jameson fell asleep to the humming sounds of rustling leaves and disruptive cars.

Something slipped into him suddenly. Something distinctly warm against the nipping cold air. Jameson wavered, blinking awake dizzily as he realized he was wet. Maybe it had begun raining. Weak hands reached for his abdomen where the wet was originating from. Manicured hands touched something sticking out of him before it suddenly slipped away. Looking towards where it disappeared to, he saw a large looming figure of a man in front of him. Suddenly a wall of pungent alcohol hit his nose. “You stole my fuckin’ vape.” the figure drunkenly accused. A sharp pain suddenly caused Jameson’s chest to tense, breathing a weak soundless whine.

Jameson’s attacker stumbled back in the dark before his foot rolled on 209135’s extended injured leg. A pair of heavy boots buried his heel into the group. “Fuck-” The intoxicated man said as he fell over.

Jameson dizzily doubled over, falling to the grass as Jameson retracted his legs as a reaction, bringing his knees to his chest. HisLimp doll's hands feebly pushed on the wound, but it only felt like more blood was draining from him. Gasps were barely audible against the persistent piercing ring that overpowered all the unknown city noises. Unfocused terrified eyes found the illuminated skyline of an unrecognizable city. Jameson’s breaths were staggered, almost a chore as he curled into a ball. A distant “Fuck you man. Fuckin’ whatever” could be heard from the blackout who had no idea what he’d done. The misery was unbearable to such a sheltered ALTR. Yet no cries for help could be made.

The ring would engulf Jameson’s senses, as he bled out alone in the forest edge.

While his body was not done fighting, the effort of his mind had completely deteriorated. Glossy eyes watched the view of the city shift as Jameson’s head lulled to hit the grass-

But there was no impact. He fell further, looping, still clutching his wound until he found himself to be upright.

Blinking, the scent of iron has returned. The red hallway was all that surrounded him, as a river of corpses sang for him to join them. But he was not dead, no that was very clear.

Jameson breathed deeply, still processing how he had gotten here until he looked down the hall, and there he watched the figure of Death walking away.

ALTR 209135 had travelled back, to redo his decision. The afterlife was not in store for him, according to whatever controlled his time abilities. It seems that Time wanted to follow Death. And in taking the first step toward it, Jameson did.

Chapter Text

The buzzing never stopped. Like a powered-on speaker, even when it’s connected to nothing, the buzz remains. That was something ALTR 114209 learned early on. Sometimes it was quiet, annoying but manageable. 

Standing atop the carnage of a carnelian collapsed chest of a guard, the growing static pierced Anti’s ears. Using the back of its hand, it messily wiped off the blood carelessly splattered across its face with a curt groan. Its body jerked suddenly, head twitching with eyes lazily following in a brief scan of the area it turned to. Anti did not blink; just squinting as if the shadows of the facility were deliberately hiding something. The silent judgement of the fresh blood dripping from its claws and the infinite painful spiky static seemed to instigate another glitch from the beast. It bared its teeth at the universe, at the walls which kept contained within this maze of a facility. Its twitching eyes prayed to see a mortal on which it could take its anger out, something to relieve the itching in its bones. 

Maybe a guard had not fully died yet. Anti hoped desperately slithering its head to face the crude trail of velvet breadcrumbs which signified ALTR 114209’s escape from its foolish captors. 

It was right, there was one still alive. It could hear the heartbeat. A giggle inadvertently bubbled up, leaving its mouth like vomit. The heart’s pace quicked.

Oh, this was fun .

Taking a step forward, the ALTR craned its abnormally long neck forward, eyes shut to enhance its listening. Even though the IRIS-issued ALTR identification shirts, 114209’s shoulderblades were clearly defined as it crept forward. 

A gasp.

A sinful smile revealed Anti’s pointed teeth, continuing to follow the panicked shuffling sounds of someone being caught. 114209 did not rush, walking steadily towards the figure who had hidden behind a reception desk. The victim’s heart pounded in the ALTR’s ear now, louder than the unbearable static. 

And for a moment, 114209 revelled in this moment of peace. It was finally free from IRIS and for a second free from the sickeningly sharp static. Anti breathed it in, like a breath of fresh air.

In less than a second of the rapid pace slowing down, calming down, Anti pounced over the desk. Anti landed on the being that dared to remain alive, pinning him to the floor in a swift rough motion. Anti situated itself on top of the blurry figure, its legs straddled against the man’s waist so he could not move, with its left claw digging his right wrist into the concrete. The palm of Anti’s right claw was latched to the chin of the man as spindly fingers firmly situated themselves on his face like a spider sitting comfortably in a web. The puny man’s open left hand reached for the creeping arachnid on his face, weakly holding Anti’s wrist, but not pushing it away by any means.  Anti’s eyes scanned his target and widened unexpectedly. 

“You are ALTR 209135?” Anti asked this time, using the grasp it had to tilt the face towards itself for a better view. The very notion that the sole being it spared had followed it was baffling. It made no sense.

The trembling figure underneath Anti nodded carefully as if the motion of pushing against the beast’s claws would kill him. Anti’s black eyes furrowed, wanting to know why. Anti thought about his old friend, and how he wanted to die. Despite hating Anti, he would always find his way back. Was this the same? Did the one man Anti spared have a death wish? With all these questions the static dared to slowly stab itself into Anti’s mind. 

Jameson’s eyes refused to blink starting at the organism above him. He felt the need to apologize somehow. As if his inability to respond verbally would offend Death.

“Why?” Death asked, “Why do you follow me?” Huffing, the ALTR readjusted itself, tightening its straddle on Jameson.

In doing so, Jameson silently squealed, closing his eyes from the sharp pain as a result of Anti’s readjustment. His heel was forced into an awkward position, straining his fracture, as Jameson sharply inhaled, sucking in the iron air. Anti’s brow expressed a sort of confusion. With clear missing bones in his spine, the thing that looked like a distorted human twisted its upper body to face Jameson’s legs. Anti saw the strain it caused for the other ALTR. It couldn’t help but test it, digging its thighs deeper into Jameson, watching in fascination how each muscle reacted to it. How the heel twisted further, how the body jolted underneath it. Most significantly, how Jameson’s heartbeat quickened, drowning out the static once again. The mimic of a satisfied chuckle sounded from Anti’s mouth, but its body did not react properly to produce such a sound. Jameson’s body grew tenser at the scene, properly closing his eyes now.

Anti turned back to face the deerling, blinking once, and understanding. “You are hurt.” 

Jameson wanted to reply and appease the beast, but he could not. He lay a terrified, yet silent, bumbling fool.

“So you cannot escape on your own.” 

Jameson opened his eyes for but a moment to be met with Anti suddenly appearing incredibly close to his face. The discomfort raged on, but he stared back at Death who read him like a book, “You need me to escape.” It stated somewhat proudly, clearly excited in some twisted way. Jameson’s tiny body trembled under the beast. Yes, you are right. Jameson wished to say, regretfully. Anti heard it somehow, a whisper implanted in his mind. The demon showed no visual signification of its peeking into Jameson’s head. I will help you. Anti thought back, in hopes that somehow whatever force allowed him to hear Jameson’s thoughts would work the other way around. 

Here they lay, at a standstill of sorts. Anti was pleased to keep his heartbeat. Jameson was relieved to understand he was not going to die at Anti’s claws. But that did not stop the feeling of wet sharped fingers dragging across his face to push a tuft of hair out of the way of his eyes with a contented hum. 

How interesting.

What horror.