Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Log 37-89-03. Subject Z-13 has shown exceptional progress with the previous injections of DNA.”

Ineligible yells could be faintly heard on the recorder, the momentary static from the scientist's silence lingering on the device’s log until a sigh was heard. The sound of fabric shifting was heard along with a creak of an office chair. 

“Injection F-DA is ready for administration. F-DA marks the third injection in Operation: Pressure. Depending on subject results, further testing may be required. Commencing visual logs.”

The doctor reached over and typed away on his keyboard, codes flying across a dark screen with every press of a key. A second later, a light turned red indicating the start of a recording. The monitor in front of the scientist gleamed to display Z-13, the subject twitching in its restraints as a mechanical hand whirled around it to settle on its left side. 

The scientist observed the experiment’s struggle, its eyes wide as the being tried its best to jerk away from the gleaming syringe. Inside of it, was a viscous teal-gray liquid that glittered with silver and gold swirls.

“You quacks, what the hell is this?! What other fucking animal could you shoot me up with?!” Z-13’s voice, graveled from its previous years of cigarette use, echoed in the observation chamber. The research team flited about like bees in a hive, typing away observations while others deposited stacks of classified files on each other’s desks to flip through. 

Of course, no one entertained the subject’s curiosity. An experiment had no use to know such info. 

Without wasting another moment, a hand brought  the recorder to his mouth, the scientist pressing a button on the side of it to activate it. 

“Administering injection F-DA.” Nodding to the colleague next to him, a button was pressed and shortly after, Z-13’s forearm was injected. A muffled scream was heard along with a bang, the experiment's snake tail slamming on the floor in reaction to the shot. The head scientist leaned back his chair, taking in the entire scene as the transformation commenced. 

Z-13’s body shook as cold sweats broke on its body, its tail convulsing as it nearly tied itself in slick knots. It’s shoulder shook while it tossed its head back and forth, the subjects head twisting and turning as screams were heard in the room. All the scientists seemed to be entranced by the scene before them, eyes glued to the observation window and screen as others feverishly wrote down what the saw. 

The sound of heels broke through the babble of clicking keyboards and scratching pens, the taps growing more timid as the person got closer to the man holding the voice recorder. 

“Sir, about injection F-DA…”

A comment came from his left and the man waved a hand for the woman to proceed. She cleared her throat as she opened a classed file, the Manila folder easily opening to the page she had dog-eared.

Her voice was clear yet confused as she addressed the scientist before her, “I was going over details of the experiment and found the amount administered was twice as much than the previous injections. The initial plan was to use a smaller dosage was it not? We have no record of Z-13 being able to handle this level of—“

“Z-13 will survive.” The head scientist cut her off and the woman seemed taken aback. Her mouth flapped about at being cut off in her question. Looking out of the one way window, the woman blinked as she observed the subject’s reaction. 

Tears coursed down its face as it tossed his head back and forth, eyes squeezed shut as it tried to run from the pain that tormented its body. Of course, that feat was simply impossible when the pain resonated form within, its own body betraying it as its DNA was tossed and molded like clay. Z-13’s grey almost iridescent skin was darkening over time, the affects of the F-DA taking its course and leaving behind a maelstrom. 

“B-but sir,….”

“Jones. Vitals on Z-13” The scientist called out, his previously neutral voice tinged with irritation. The woman felt her chest twist with unease as she turned to look at who was addressed. 

“Right away, sir…”

A woman across the observation room responded, fingers tapping away on her keyboard to display Z-13’s readings. On two of the main screens, one tv showed its vitals while the other displayed a physical examination of Z-13’s anatomy. Green, yellow, red, and blue circles were pinpointed on various areas of its figure. 

The woman knew what each color corresponded to: Green identified areas that remained unaffected, yellow marked the areas that showed low levels of changes, red was for areas that showed high levels of change while blue was arguably the most important: the development of new anatomy. 

To her, it was the most important as this was the entire point of Operation: Pressure. To bridge the gap between exploring the deep without the use of machines, the harness the power that God denied its human creations: the ability to breathe underwater. 

If it was possible for fish to do so, it was only a manner of transferring the ability to people. Which, in this day and age, was simply about who dared to push the boundaries needed to do so. 

Yet, as she watched Z-13 writhe in the chair it was strapped down to, displaying symptoms close to a epileptic seizure, she wondered if this was worth it at all. 

“High blood pressure present. Heart rate is fast at 120bpm yet stable, no signs of deterioration. Adrenaline levels have spiked in response to injection. Brain waves are indicating signs of a seizure however physically Z-13 is responding well to the injection.”

“Good. Proceed with the experiment. Prepare a mixture of phenytoin and phenobarbital along with sedatives. Administer when you believe is necessary..”

“Understood Dr. Bloom.”

The man in question relaxed in his chair, feet settling on the floor while the hand holding the recorder tapping the desk. His unoccupied arm rested on the armchair, hand dangling while his attention was once again captured by the subject before him. 

Z-13 yelped, catching Dr. Bloom’s attention. He made sure to keep his eyes glued to the experiment only to see an angler’s lure, bloody and covered in viscera rapidly sprout from the subject’s head. The light fizzled like a poor lightbulb, struggling to stay on until it finally struck gold. The next development came in the form of a third eye, the organ bubbling to the surface like a tumor before skin tore to reveal its irritated cyan glory. 

When Z-13’s eyes snapped open, Dr. Bloom was happy to see the subject’s eyes were also a cyan color. The subject’s skin darkened in waves, the previous steel gray becoming akin to a thundercloud with splotches turning near midnight on it’s torso and arms. With the darkest spot originating from the injection point, it would take time before it could be identified as a bruise or evidence left behind of the dosage. 

A gurgling sound rose from Z-13, the screen showing development beeping to notify of a new area. Doctor Bloom didn’t break his eyes away, not wanting to miss a single thing as a gut wrenching sob tore from the subjects throat. Drool in copious amounts dripped from its mouth, jaw hung open as it threw its head closer to the ground over and over again in an effort to alleviate the pressure. 

If he blinked he would have missed it, small as they were. Yellow stained teeth glittered on the floor, clattering down as globs of blood went with it. A strangled yell echoed as one by one more teeth fell to the floor. Some landed together. Some landed in sloppy blood clots that were viscious in texture. 

Soon, all of the subjects teeth, stained in yellow nicotine or wine red blood laid scattered on the floor only to immediately be replaced with razor sharp fangs. New as they were, the baby white teeth were immediately tinged red from the blood leaking from Z-13’s maw, each tooth coming down to somehow line up perfectly when the subject closed its mouth occasionally. 

A tongue, previously forked from the last injection, flickered out to taste the air. Z-13 groaned as its head hung over its body. 

Minutes ticked by as the observation room scattered about, a cacophony of keyboards sounding as printers worked valiantly to deliver papef to greedy hands.  Dr. Bloom felt a frown stretch his face despite the sound of excited colleagues around him. 

On the screen, three blue dots replaced the previous red areas to mark the new lure, eye, and teeth.  While Z-13 proved to continue being a promising venture for the company, the main issue glared at him down from the screen. 

There were no gills present. This experiment, while one step closer, was deemed a failure. 

With a sigh, the doctor stood up and clapped to gain his colleagues attention, shouldering the woman from earlier out of his way. She stumbled but he did not care. She was but an obstacle who would soon be dealt with. 

People stopped what they were doing to pay their heavy gazes upon him and the man’s arms folded behind his back. With his posture impeccable, he addressed everyone present, “Prepare the collection team for extract—“

“Vitals are spiking. A new development is in progress.”

Jones called and the doctor whipped back around to watch in shock. The final development was caught on the TV screen, another blue dot appearing on the screen to center on Z-13’s abdomen. Looking at it, the doctor saw no visible changes. 

An internal change then?…

The doctor chuckled in amazement as he eyed the screen and watched the subject whip its tail in retaliation, weak groans heard as it pulled on its restraints and bowed its back. The subject struggled in its restraints but of course, resistance was futile.

Jones gasped along with other scientists as a peculiar organ rapidly amassed on screen. 

“…D-Doctor Bloom…I-It appears Z-13 has developed—“

“—-a womb…” the doctor finished in pure amazement, eyes wide as they flicked between the screens and the subject who seemed delirious. It’s stomach grew distended, inflammation in its body rapidly forming in response to the foreign organ taking place yet nothing tore. If one could ignore the entire setting, it would have seemed that Z-13 simply had too much to eat. The doctor’s brain fired off as hypothesis after hypothesis formed. 

While the others discussed how this could have been possible, he simply marveled at the body that was Z-13.  This…this was unexpected but the perfect development for the project. A womb meant offspring. Which meant more beings for Urbanshade to harness and build a whole new species of life. 

One that could change humanity as they knew it. 

“Jones.” He barked, the woman responding immediately with near military precision. 

“Yes, sir.”

“What is the probability of another development occurring?” 

Multiple keyboards clicked away. A moment later, Jones declared, “the probability is zero point two percent marginal error of point three percentage.”

“Vitals?” He inquired and Jones replied, “Brain waves are steady, blood pressure is elevated with cortisol levels high. BPM is lower—“

“His survival rate, Jones.” Bloom growled and Jones immediately followed it with, “With proper round the clock observation, Z-13 will survive. In the next 15 minutes the anti-seizure medication will be administered with a light sedative through IV.”

“Excellent. See to it that gets that. I’ll be stepping out. Any possible development notify me immediately.” 

And with that, Doctor Bloom departed from the observation room with purpose in every step. The woman from earlier watched him leave while the rest of her colleagues discussed what happened. Almost hesitantly, she turned to look out of the window only to jump when she saw Z-13’s eyes staring directly at her. 

Bedraggled as…he was covered in blood and viscera, she couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. 

He was looking right at her and the woman couldn’t help but gulp at the thought of what Doctor Bloom had planned. 

…God help him. 

Chapter Text

Those fuckers…

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought someone was beating his head in with a sledgehammer. The agony resonated all throughout, the origin point coming from that stupid dangling thing in front of his face. The sight of it made his already aching eyes burn with new tears. 

The drool that dripped down his face only added to his ever shrinking pride, feeling like a goddamn baby who couldn’t quit spitting. But he couldn’t deny how it felt good. To just let go and just let the pain run its course, instinct be damned. 

Globs of drool landed on the floor next to yellow stained teeth. His eyes did the best they could in counting his…the teeth on the floor. But at some point he found it pointless. It almost didn’t feel real. None of it did. 

Those weren’t his teeth on the floor. It couldn’t be. But the teeth he had right now also couldn’t be his. They were too white, too new, too sharp, too jagged, too…monstrous to be his. 

But it didn’t matter. Because this was his new reality. 

It was, and it was all because of those goddamn quacks that found a way to jerk one off while they did their experiments

Breathing in, Sebastian found himself wincing and couldn’t stop the weak groan that followed. For a sedative, you would think that it would have some sort pain management.

 But no, that was too much to ask for. While he felt tired, felt the drug pull at his eyelids and drag his head to the floor, Sebastian still felt every nerve lit aflame only to be reborn again and again.  

He felt his jaw ache in residual pain and felt more aches in the way. His forehead hurt like shit and god his stomach hurt just as much if not more. His tail was the only thing spared from the agony but he could feel an ache from all the twisting and turning it had done. 

Glowing blue orbs slowly climbed from the floor to level themselves at the one way mirror. His eyes burnt something terrible, like he’d stared at a screen for too long. He squinted in an effort to lessen the agony.  

He didn’t know if he was looking at someone and frankly, he didn’t give two shits if that was the case. The mutated man could only sneer at the thought. It didn’t matter if someone was there or not. 

They’d all regret what they’ve done to him. 

The sound of the room’s door depressurizing came, the wheels turning as a harsh hiss echoed in the room. Shortly after, military grade boots stomped on the clinical white floor only to surround his figure. The humming static and bleeps of radios reached his pointed ears as the grunts checked in.  

“E-vac 3, status report.”

Gears shifted as the man reached for his radio. A bleep was heard. 

“Delta Papa Charlie, we arrived at the Z-13 trial. Conducting extraction sequence.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the weak snort, his new lure bouncing as residual tears made their way down his bloody face. 

Z-13…Fuck, this was insane. He wasn’t even a person to them. But was he ever? 

He didn’t wanna look at them, he didn’t have the strength to.  But the obnoxious snaps in his face earned this group of clowns the glare of a lifetime. 

It was too bad they didn’t die on the spot. 

“It’s still responsive. Give me that.”

Not even three seconds passed before he felt metal impale his arm. Sebastian hissed as he inhaled, baring his razor sharp fangs at the guard who stabbed him with the syringe. Some of the grunts cursed as they scrambled to back up, trigger fingers twitching on their stun guns as fear took hold. 

But of course, life proved to be hilarious as Sebastian couldn’t even tease them. Not before this sedative blurred the lines between up and down and a new gallon of drool made its way out his hanging maw. 

The man felt the room spin and his head drop forward. He felt the pull of gravity and couldn’t help but think he was falling further and further into the hell that was Urbanshade. Voices started meshing together. Background noise became obsolete. Before finally, the sweet release of darkness took hold of him as he passed out. 

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His brown eyes opened to see a concrete ceiling. 

Bleary eyed, his head rolled in search of his alarm. Once he found it, he stared blankly.

The time was unreadable. 

He was too tired for this. 

He had tasks to do before those pricks came to tear him a new one. 

Without wasting more time, he kicked his legs over the bed, tanned feet touching the floor. 

Mechanically, he placed on his uniform, a navy blue jumpsuit, and slapped his LR-P sticker on his left shoulder. He didn’t care for his looks per say but his oh so lovely superior did.

The man turned to a mirror and found it foggy and cursed. The humidity was terrible today just like before. 

“If that bitch complains about my hair she can shut her trap. Fix the insulation in my room then we’ll talk…” he mumbled, ruffling his hair and hoping it looked…Somewhat okay. 

His door opened and as usual, a guard was right outside to escort him to his job. 

“What, the missus didn’t wanna see me?” He goaded and the guard met it with a prolonged sigh that just reeked of irritation. Sebastian nearly smirked but held it in. He didn’t wanna irritate his best friend too bad you know? “Come on friend, lighten up! Can’t a fella have a…little fun?” 

Apparently not, the back of a rifle knocked him square in the head and the dark haired man groaned in pain. “Get back and get moving. We’re late.”

“Late? What do you mean late—“

Suddenly the door leading out from the prisoner bay opened.  Down the corridor, 6 guards came marching to surround him and the other guard. 

“He’s ready. Let’s go” 

Two guards on both sides yanked his arms behind his back and Sebastian couldn’t stop his protest as he tried to get out of their grip. 

“Hey-! What the HELL is your issue?!” 

“Stop resisting—!” One started while another began. 

“If you don’t stop resisting we will use force.” He finished as he yanked his arms straight behind his back and the previous guard reached to his belt for handcuffs. 

Sebastian’s head whipped around, his nose scrunching up while one of his eyebrows peaked. “Force? Force for what?! You fucks just grabbed—MMMFH?!” Fabric was wrapped around his mouth and his head was yanked back. Hair was pulled taut until strands ripped from the force of the knot they tied. 

The edges of vision grew darker as his heart raced. The guards he was surrounded by distorted their figure and grew larger and more demonic.

White faces in various emotions replaced their human features, the sound of children laughing and squealing echoing around him. 

His heart pounded in his chest and cold sweat broke out, he blinked and…

He was in a chair. His upper body was strapped to it. 

His leg was bouncing. 

His head hurt. 

His eye was bruised. 

Where was he?

He didn’t know but he knew. 

The room was too familiar yet so foreign. Small in size it was a standard interrogation room but there was a hatch in the ceiling. He knew what it was but also didn’t. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

“Sebastian Solace, LR-P who worked in Sector X’s maintenance department.”

A voice distorted by the PA system fed through the room. 

Looking around, he tried to find a window but found nothing. Brows furrowing, he stopped his gaze straight ahead and found himself looking in a mirror. His brain ran wild as he asked, 

“Who…are you?” 

The voice didn’t answer, not for a long time. 

The faint buzz of electricity kept Sebastian company yet its presence only sent chills down his spine. Ants crawled up his skin and a force urged him to speak  

“Hello?! I just asked you a qu—“ 

“I am aware Mr. Solace, or rather… Z-13. I understand why you were…passionately volunteered for this project.” He mumbled and Sebastian gawked. Volunteered? Project?

A second later, that mirror turned into a window, allowing Sebastian to peer inside. Three people stood on the other side, one in the front and two further back in the darkness. 

He could only assume the one closest to the window was the man speaking to him. Brown slicked back hair and rectangular glasses that framed dark eyes and complimented his long angular features. Pale as he was, his skin emphasized the dark marks under his eyes. 

He wore the typical science geek get-up, white lab coat, dark blue button up and black pants. Squinting his eyes he tried to rack his brain for who he may be.  He really didn’t know this man. He didn’t. 

He did.

“Wait…wait, wait, wait—project? Z-13?…” The man did not care and pressed onwards, tone almost bored yet intrigued. 

“You will refer to me as Doctor Bloom. I am the overseer for Project: Pressure, and subsequently, you.” 

“Wait—“

“A scientific feat, you were recommended by your previous supervisor due to your “stellar” attitude and performance at work. Labor cuts were made and to throw you away after this company invested so much into you? It would be outlandish.” The man bemoaned, shaking his head but Sebastian knew shit when he saw it. This doctor didn’t care. If anything he seemed…excited. 

He shivered. 

“Your new purpose will be to help humanity break the boundaries erected by our biological restraints. To reach depths no living person had seen in their lifetime and do the same for others. To become more as you were meant to be..” His reverent tone ignited goosebumps along Sebastian’s back. 

He felt like a mouse who’s luck had run out, stuck on a glue trap to await its demise as the cat watched its life trickle away. 

“You, Z-13, will make history in science as the first human to breathe underwater.” 

Everything shifted. 

He was on his back strapped down by his chest. 

Two vials, one stormy gray and the other a mercury silver. 

Two syringes given at once, the biting pain of metal piercing soft tissue and muscle to go deep into his veins, contaminating everything in its path. 

His legs felt like they were melting, the pain unimaginable as he frothed at the mouth. His skin turned an ashen gray as his feet lost their form. The nerves died off and tumors festered on his legs at a rapid development only to burst and ooze blood tinged with silver serum. Bones crunched with every pump of blood sent through his body, the serum actively changing him by the second. 

He screamed for god knows how long, his yells and pleads grew hoarse as blood bubbled up his throat. His ears, round as they were elongated and became pointy, flesh gray like the rest of his body. 

The final straw was when he felt his ribs break and his spine elongate, ripping through flesh and muscle to rapidly grow the vertebrae needed to sustain whatever addition it was trying to. 

His eyes rolled back as his head slammed into the table he laid on and everything went dark. 

.

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.

. 

He woke up to being stabbed.

Too weak to hold himself up, Sebastian’s arms gave out and sent him crashing back to the floor. Thinking he still had his legs, instinctually he tried to stand but slipped on the wiggly appendage. 

His tail lashed out, bumping and slapping anything and everything as he tried to get up and way. That stabbing feeling didn’t stop and only got worse, and he could only turn his head to the side before everything came rushing up. 

His throat forcibly pushed the acid out of his body, puke scattering as he wretched again and again right where he laid. The dark haired man heaved over and over, until finally his body was satisfied with its purging. 

The man coughed out some remaining phlegm and blinked the lingering exhaustion away. 

The cooling feeling of his bile made him shudder. He groaned from the sting of his throat and cramping gut, his tail spasming from a painful bubble of…something on the front of it.

 Curious hands gingerly felt around the area and Sebastian hissed as electric shocks traveled up his spine. Fuck it was tender. It hurt like a bitch even when he tried to be as light as a feather. 

“What the hell…” His throat was dry and fruitlessly he swallowed to allievate it. Matter of fact, his entire body felt dry, his skin tight while his scales itched something feral. The earlier slams of it had helped at the sacrifice of some of his scales but…what was a little more pain right?

Anyways, the main issue was his gut, the muscles cramping and turning as spikes of pain shot up his spine. 

This was the feeling that woke him up. It felt like someone had taken his stomach and was forcing it in on itself, molding it and kneading it to their desires like baker’s dough. 

Before stabbing the absolute shit out of it. 

His arms curled around his abdomen as he inhaled sharply. The lure that laid in front of him began to fizz like a dying light, slowly glowing brighter with every contraction that tore through him. 

He was panting, cold sweat breaking out on his form. One second he had been lost in the blissful darkness, the next he was thrown back into reality with the worst case of nausea he’s ever had. Another cramp hit and his lure sparked bright, the sudden light slammed his eyes shut while he growled at the biological flashbang.  

“Aurghh…!” He groaned, turning over to get out of his vomit and escape into a dark corner of his cell. With every clench of his core to move his tail, his swollen abdomen protested heavily. 

The sweat breaking out on his body was both heaven sent and godforsaken, the moisture helping with that dry itchy feeling but making him wanna die more than he already wanted to. 

A disgusting fish-snake-man who smelled like vomit and sweat. How nice.

“Just gotta make it…oh fu—ugh! Owwwww..!!” He groaned as his arms gave out, dropping to the floor to curl up as another contraction hit. His lure was on the fitz, lighting and sparking in response to the pain he felt. What the fuck was going on.

 This wasn’t a regular stomach ache. It didn’t make any sense. Was this another development? Why did his stomach hurt? Why was his tail hurting? What the hell did they do to him??

For what felt like hours he was subjected to the freakshow that was his body. His tail slithered and slammed against the metal ground. His eyes scrunched shut as he burrowed as far as he could into his own body. Sebastian didn’t know how long he laid there. He didn’t care. He just wanted the pain to stop, it burned, it ached, everything hurt so bad—

His eyes slammed open to reveal bright blue orbs that seemed to beam as his lure shined like a miniature sun. That burning feeling on his tail had reached a pinnacle and he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

A gruesome scream echoed in Z-13’s metal holding cell, a devilish amalgamation of human and monster carrying up and up and up into the dark abyss of Urbanshade. 

Like a cyst, the boil on his tail burst open. He couldn’t help but thrash in response. Yet, something curious happened. The bloating in his gut instantly went down as a rush of liquid left his body through the opening of his tail. 

Open mouthed with his brows taut, his breath was hot as he panted. His forked tongue flicked out and he cringed at the scent of iron and copper with the smell of what he could only describe as…honeyed fish….what—

Looking down in spite of his aching head, Sebastian instantly located the issue. 

There was a silt on his tail. It was open, swollen, pulsing a flaming heat. The inside was a purple color and it was the source of a darker purple river that leaked onto the floor. His blue orbs saw clumps of purple in the tiny puddle and blanked completely. 

A thought entered his head. And even though he felt like a complete idiot. There was no way—no fucking—

After painstaking moments of waiting, wondering and hoping if he had been overreacting, he finally managed to get the silt to pulsate. The action sent more of the liquid out, a clot slipping out only to fall with wet plop in the ever growing puddle. 

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Did he just grow a fucking—

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No. 

No. 

Absolutely not. 

“No…fuck this—no!.”

He felt a sob crawl up his throat along with toe-curling shame. 

No he wasn’t gonna think about it. Even when every pulse tried its best to remind him, he refused. 

He wished it was all a nightmare, something he could wake up from and forget within minutes. The dark haired man couldn’t stop himself from burrowing into his arms, a tremor hitting his body as he desperately held onto whatever pride he had left. 

He tried to ignore it all: the puke, the lure, his tail, the way his ears suddenly began to ache as well. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. 

How long had it been? 

How long had he been asleep? 

It felt like he’d been down for days, his body aching not just from the experiment but his shit sleeping position. He was wrapped in shitty bandages that obviously hadn’t been changed in a while, his wine red blood now brown from time. 

How long was he going to suffer?

He didn’t want to know

~*~

The answer was a week. 

They left him for a week to deal with whatever the hell his body decided to cherry-pick from the seafood cocktail that was his DNA. 

After day one, he’d slept sporadically, catching only an hour of sleep max before he was thrown into another hellfire that was his body development. Cramp after cramp he was pulled from the blissful calls of sleep. He puked again when the pain reached a crescendo and promptly passed out in his bile.

Going into day two, he spent that one avidly ignoring the silt on his tail and riding out the cramps in his stomach. 

He used the stained bandages to soak up the purple gunk from his skin and tossed it up as far as he could, aiming at the observation window. The strength of his throw left a purple mark of spite, hatred, and disgust. It eventually fell and hit the ground in a wet heap of purple. Glaring at it, he turned his back on it and hugged himself. That was the scientist's job to clean. 

The good news was he didn’t puke. Silver lining. 

Sleep took him and willingly he went. 

Day three, his ears transformed into fins, the skin a blue-gray that wiggled with his emotions. Compared to the other transformations, this one felt like a migraine after a hard day's work. His stomach ached but it was something he could ignore. 

 Of course he wasn’t happy, but it was nice to have a breather from the bullshit that was Urbanshade experimentation. 

The fourth day, the cramping stopped. The silt still ached. It was the first day in a long time he’d been able to somewhat calm down. He curled in on himself, back to the wall and facing the entryway to his cell. It occurred to him as he fell asleep that he didn’t know what time it was. 

When was the last time he’d felt the sun?

Darkness consumed him and he shortly passed out. 

On day five, his stomach ached once more. However, not because of bloating or anything. 

A loud growl echoed and Sebastian gripped the little fat that was there, curling in as his gut cried out for sustenance. 

He was hungry. Starving actually. When was the last time he’d eaten?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. 

What he could remember though was a time long ago, a time that made a wobbly smile come to his face as he laid on the metal floor. A time he both cherished and loathed for many reasons. 

His mother had come home, tired as she was, she'd crashed on the ratty sofa they owned without greeting them. His older brother and sister were with him, tasked with watching the youngest while their mother spent hours working to provide. 

At 14, he remembers spotting his mother holding back tears letting her children know they’d have no dinner that night, the best she could provide being sugar water and begging them to go to sleep and “come morning you’ll have the biggest breakfast you’d ever seen!”

He didn’t have sugar water. But sleep? He could do that. 

Exhaustion pulled at his eyes and he easily went. There was nothing he could do besides sleep or wait anxiously for something to happen. 

He wouldn’t move. It made no sense to waste what little energy he had. He had to preserve it. Food would come when ready. 

And when it would, he would feast. 

Day six, Sebastian doesn’t remember what happened. 

But on day seven, when he rose from his curled position with dried blood and viscera flaking off his body, he found the observation window was lit up and figures stood inside. 

When his eyes squinted up at the irritating light, he could make out the face of Doctor Bloom who watched him with a serene expression. 

“I see you’ve had your fill, Z-13. This development was an oversight on my behalf, I do apologize for the mess.”

He said nothing. 

“My…intern didn’t last long. It was quick work. I must congratulate you for your diligence. Say…did you know you had bioluminescence?” 

Sebastian barely had time to turn before everything came up, chunks of undigested meat, a ring and shattered glasses coming up to clatter with deafening certainty. 

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he begged for forgiveness. 

Up above, the scientists watched on and wrote down their findings. Doctor Bloom gazed on, eyes gleaming as he watched Z-13 crumple to the floor. 

Chapter Text

The speaker inside the observation room crackled to life, echoing Z-13’s nettlesome pleas. Doctor Bloom’s gaze was akin to stone, sharp and oppressive as he soaked in the subject’s behavior. 

It sobbed and groaned, dry heaving whatever remains of the meat it had consumed earlier. Behind him, his colleagues typed away on their computers as they wrote their findings from the past week. 

Their subject was actively transforming in front of them, becoming better and better by the day. Z-13 continued to be a marvel, the being succumbing more and more into the animal it was always meant to be. It was a beautiful, a miracle…Yet…

The thought of the last few days nearly made him break his composure. Vexed, he snapped his fingers at the skittish employee who promptly fled the room, her limp making her leave loud and clumsy.  

The Upper Chamber had been notified of Z-13’s unexpected development. Consisting of investors, the chief executives and Mr. Shade himself, they were a tough crowd to please. 

The investors were the first issue: picky with their money and lighting quick to withdraw it at any minor setback. It would take a lot of convincing and promises to even get them to think of the matter. The chief executives were next. Chosen personally by Mr. Shade, they were men and women of equal cutthroat stature who were tasked with making sure company ventures succeeded no matter the costs. 

Mr. Shade was a man who prioritized results. Wealthy in age and riches, he had no problem throwing money to get what he wanted. Those who knew Mr. Shade and his quirks kept their heads down and did what they were told. 

The building’s steel structures were reinforced with the blood of enemies, both human and monstrous, while greed funded their ventures. Those who stood in his way, were promptly mowed down by either lead, metal or simply teeth. He did not take kindly to hold ups. 

Not that his subject would be one. Oh no, no.

Doctor Bloom craned his head to peer at Z-13’s habitat. It would appear it had taken to decorating the place. Dried marks of black and brown littered the area. Gray scales dotted the floor, evidence of a struggle present along with blood splatter here and there. 

There were gouges in the ground and wall, the beast likely causing them when it failed to move as fast as it’d like. His eyes slid back to eye the black splatter on the observation window. He nearly chuckled in amusement, not unlike a father coming upon the result of their child’s tantrum.

Of course, he knew how it had gotten there. He’d seen the footage, both live and playback, of Z-13’s behavior as developments played out. In the darkness of his office, he had marked down everything. The thrashing, the screams, the lure, the vaginal opening, its pacing, the feast—-everything. 

The intern’s screams had caused a massive headache. 

Speaking of, the door reopened with a mechanical hiss, the nervous employee depositing the coffee next to him. He lifted the mug to his lips and chanced a sip. Savoring the bitter taste of heaven, he found it satisfactory and continued drinking it. His mind went back to the last few days and he sighed through his nose once more. 

The council had descended into a full argument at the idea of using Z-13. A room of adults acting like children losing their favorite toys, Bloom had nearly lost it when an investor had almost led to all his hard work going down the drain. 

“Z-13 continues to show positive growth for Project: Pressure. Whilst it has not developed gills, the overall developments could have benefits for the company: increased agility and speed, scotopia or rather night vision, bioluminescence—“

Someone cleared their throat and Bloom’s eyes cut over to eye the person. It was a woman who’s posture rivaled the straightest pole.  Dressed to the nines in professional designer, he identified her to be one of the investors. Particularly, one who was known for being difficult. 

“Mr. Travis, was it?” She asked leaning forward as she flicked her eyes between him and the documents that had been given to all 12 individuals in the room. 

“Doctor Bloom, madam…how may I assist?” He corrected, pleasant smile only that as he regarded her air. 

Her skepticism was obvious as she played with the pen, tapping it softly against the stack of papers that she spread out with a creased manicured hand. Her eyes were downturned but it only served to accentuate her crackling gaze. 

Dark brown eyes read the lines and the diagrams he had displayed for the chamber, taking in the anatomical pictures of Z-13, calculations, and vitals, before blatantly scoffing to herself. 

“While I do understand this…Z-13 can carry, how exactly does the introduction of a female angler fish promise offspring?” She prodded, picking up a paper that marked the current DNA Z-13 was composed of. 

“According to this document you’ve provided, Z-13 was a human male prior to the experiment. As far as I am aware, anglerfish lay eggs. How was an entire womb produced? How are you and I along with others certain this organ is stable?”

Otherwise, how was he sure this wasn’t going to be a waste of time and money. 

The other investors began to murmur amongst themselves. Bloom steeled himself, keeping his expression open and holding back the sneer that threatened to appear. 

Turning to the display, he used his presenter remote and smoothly switched a few slides forward. The projector’s image flickered to cause Z-13’s anatomy to become enlarged, the reproductive organs on clear display.

 Its womb was smaller than the typical human woman’s by a fraction. The ovaries were fully formed but the chamber, compared to the average human female, was unique in shape as well, displaying a harsh divot in the middle. Low murmurs were heard as men and women alike discussed their opinions. 

“Shortly after the injection of F-DA, Z-13 had been heavily sedated for both transport and observation.” He began, repeating what he’d said hours earlier. “Before being transported to its holding cell, the subject was sent in for screening by our medical team. The visuals you see here—“ he pointed at the skeleton, anatomy, and blood levels “—are derived from that.” He turned his head to look at the woman, pleasant smile gone and replaced with one of smooth indifference. 

She met it head on with her own, eyes coolly flicking between the screen and him. 

“Our team, once the records had been taken, conducted extensive calculations, peer reviewing with sister labs and cross referencing what we know with past studies. The percentage displayed on page 6–“ he waited for the investors to flip to said page, the noise of paper moving around eventually quieting once everyone was there. “—is the current conclusion regarding the success of insemination, implantation, and reaching full term.”

As he’d already addressed, hours ago. The woman, upon looking closely at the page, shook her head and raised it to level him with a critical gaze. 

“Doctor Bloom, while I may be no scientist, this marginal error is quite steep for the date you have. Surely, you know this?” She accused and the investors broke out in a mumble, discussing amongst themselves while few fetched their assistants to run calculations. His brow twitched as irritation sent heat through his body. 

She placed her pen on the table and leaned forward on her elbows, hands clasping together in front of her face. Not a strand of hair was out of place and her thin eyebrows provoked a challenge. “As a woman who’s seen her fair share of miscarriages, I’ve been to many doctors, worldwide. I’ve been told many things by many people. It was only once a doctor in Shanghai helped me that I was able to have my little boy.”

“He was very transparent throughout the process, letting me know everything, including the probability of me getting pregnant and actually carrying to full term. These percentages you’ve presented—“ she picked up the paper and waved it around “—are 10 percent below the minimum he had suggested for my pregnancy.”

Of course, you are a human woman well into her late fifties, he scoffed to himself. This was a, theoretically speaking, young animal who was in its prime for reproduction. Not some old hag who had decided close to menopause she finally wanted a child. It was a miracle in itself she managed to drop eggs in the first place. 

“You’re estimating this venture would cost upward to $700,000. With all estimates, especially with one as unique as this project, the estimate is only that: a guess.” 

This was a blowout project. A complete waste of time with no profit. 

“The marginal error doesn’t help your case at four percent. So I ask once more, how are you certain this venture will benefit the company?”

With that final blow, the investors became emboldened while some executives shifted in their seats, agitation clear at the prospect of their time being wasted. 

“Consider that, we have no donator!—Who knows if the thing would even make it to term?!—this is too risky—“

The chamber descended in madness, grown men and women arguing and talking over each other to create a discord of voices. 

Just as he was to respond with more data and observations, Mr. Shade had intervened. 

He hadn’t said a word, merely raised a hand to beckon his secretary closer. Yet, everyone stopped in their motions. No one moved. No one dared even speak. 

It was only after the woman stood back up that anyone dared to turn their heads. 

“Mr. Shade believes this  development to be valuable to Project: Pressure’s longevity. He would like you to pursue this venture once it’s achieved gills, the original goal and priority of this venture. More funds will be deposited to the Science division for this purpose. He will be in touch later with more details and expects the data to be emailed to me for personal review. This meeting is adjourned.”

And with that, the man had been wheeled away without a word, sagging face stuck in a deep, miserable frown. 

Looking down at the men and women in the room, Doctor Travis Bloom stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back. He made sure to thank every single investor for their time, emphasizing his appreciation for the woman’s questions and her concerns before he took his leave.  

He ignored her flushed face and the way it deepened her crows feet. 

Bloom had left the meeting room shortly after, fingers flying on his company phone to send calls and emails to the sister facilities. 

His days were spent organizing video calls and meeting with his own team on how to move forward, all while watching the replay of Z-13. Captivated at the being’s screeches as cystic boils burst to leak purple blood all over the flooring. Watching as the subject convulsed in its sleep before eventually falling into nothingness before its struggle began anew, roaring into the dark before it ebbed into pitiful whimpers. 

Always watching. 

Tuning back to the present, dark eyes searched below. Z-13 had curled up in the darkest corner it could find, its blue eyes squinting up at the light coming from the window. Faint blue spots in its tail came alive, patterns leading a path up its hips, rib cage to end like freckles on its face.

If Bloom had been a poetic man, maybe he’d likened it to stars on a dark night. Or perhaps moon dust sprinkled on a regular stone to illuminate the path to safety. 

But, he was not. The sight only made him hum in thought. 

His eyes lingered on its form, following the glowing trail down to its slit. The spots fizzled like dying lights. Claws dug into its body, a desperate attempt at self-soothing that would be for naught. 

He smiled. 

It trembled. 

A pity. 

He reached over to the intercom button. It clicked. 

“I must say, if I was a man of poetry I’d come up with something more special to say but really: the bioluminescence is spectacular.”

He commented with a chuckle. Z-13 cringed at that but did end up glancing down at his body. Its lure fizzed and his eyebrow rose. Perhaps it was linked to his emotions? He’d have to test it later. 

“Upon my intern’s entry, your body was what I could only describe as a light show. A biological marvel really, I couldn’t imagine how she felt walking in—“

As he rambled, the creature shrunk on itself more and more, shaking its head and pinning its finned ears back in an effort to stop hearing him. 

The door beeped to signal someone leaving. Bloom smirked in mirth. 

“I wonder—your maw dislocates to extend farther? Or maybe the structure just allows it to—either way it’ll be inspected next—“

“STOP! Just..Shut. Up!” It begged and his expression of wonder was immediately dropped for indifference. 

He reached for his coffee and in the midst of its ragged breathing, fueled his body with the bitter substance.  

When he was done, the mug was placed to the side. 

“Ah, never mind that Z-13. I’ve come to tell you today is your lucky day.”

Its lure fizzed up while its finned ears fanned out. Good. He had its attention. 

“Lucky? Lucky?!!” Ah, ever the fan of dramatics. It was breathing faster, chest moving up and down with the force of its breaths. Eyeing its surroundings, it snapped up at the scientists, its graveled voice now having a nasally tone. Perhaps a result of the mutation? He mused. Yes, a closer inspection was due. 

“Eating someone makes this my lucky day?” It’s blue eyes rolled. “Oh, what else do you have for me, doc.” It sneered, graveled voice wobbly in its stress. Bloom felt his eyes narrow as he observed its pitiful form, muscles clenched tight in an effort to merge with the wall behind it. 

“Your allergy to thinking always amazes me.” He mumbled, his head cocking slightly to the side. 

“I’m sure you can guess, Z-13.” He drawled, a bravado to his words as his arms came up in grand fashion. Making a show of looking around, an eyebrow raised he came closer to the window to level the animal with a sharp look 

“I mean—surely your intelligence hasn’t degraded with the testing.”

 Not that there was much left, he thought. The sound of keyboards and pen scratching on paper was heard along with hitching breaths through the speaker. Silence edged on and Travis felt more than saw the exact moment Z-13 realized. 

A low growl edged to a blood-chilling hiss through the speaker. Something primal rose in his own body, goosebumps rising along the back of his neck as hairs stood at attention. Scientists scrambled to record their observations while some others backed away from the window. 

Fools. 

He couldn’t help the grin that stretched his face when the subject began to voice its objections. 

“You’re all crazy—another one?! Another FUCKING experiment?!?-“ 

“Why of course! You were asleep for only a few days, please keep up with why you’re here Z-13.” He crooned and the beast threw an arm in a wide arc in retaliation, hostility evident from the sparking lights on its body. 

“I just managed to not pass out every two seconds and you’re throwing me back in?! What type of shit is that?!”

A button was pressed. 

“The dramatics, once entertaining, are beginning to bore, Z-13.” Irritation bloomed, reviving the previous migraine with a vengeance. He cared little for the overly dramatic tendencies that Z-13 seemed to cling to. 

“You know why you’re here.” He’s reached for his coffee once more and sipped from the stained mug. 

 “You know what is expected. You will be taken in for the fourth injection.” The doctor’s words were the final nail in the coffin, sealing Z-13’s fate to be subjected once more to the horror that was Urbanshade’s experiments. 

The creature’s face scrunched up in an ugly ball of emotion, its newly deformed face succumbing to the tidal wave of grief and provocation. Its wide eyes, bright balls of blue filled to the brim with glowing liquid that followed the previous trail of tears. 

Seeing the sight, Travis felt a shiver of heat trail down his spine to settle in his core, satisfaction curling its sweet tendrils around his stomach to infect everything within. Soon, it would learn to listen. It was all about waiting. Simply waiting. 

Just as he went to take his leave, Doctor Bloom huffed to himself, shaking his head as he opened his brown eyes to settle the sea monster with an exasperated look. 

“Oh, before I forget to mention: try not to eat my employees this time? They’re expensive to replace.”

The being shivered again and when Travis heard an aborted gag, he felt his smile stretch to the fullest.

The pitiful thing. 

The door snapped shut behind him, vacuum tight seals soundproofing the room. Thankfully, before he could hear the serpent retch once more and ruin his own appetite.

Walking down the hall, he passed many colleagues and interns who rushed and mingled about. He observed those who gathered in groups and those who secluded themselves. 

It took less than five minutes to reach his office.  He reached inside his lab coat to pluck a yellow keycard from his pocket. With a swipe and beep! The door snapped open before closing up after his entry. 

Inside the privacy of his office, the light automatically turned on, chasing the darkness from the room. In the presence of light, his neat office was displayed. 

Two lockers lined the left wall while his desk was in the middle of the room. File cabinets lined the walls with military storage bins next to each other. A wall of PhDs gleamed gold under the light. A large fake plant stood innocently in the corner. 

Walking around his desk to sit in his plush office chair, he wakes up his monitor and inputs his passcode. 

As he waited, he relaxed into the chair and began to whistle a little tune, eyes focused on the ceiling as he rocked back and forth in thought. 

The brunet’s computer chimed to signal its startup completion. Immediately he leaned forward and scrolled through an array of files, reflection flying across his glasses. He scrolled down and down until finally, he found the one he was looking for.

> Z-13///1313446325///

—- XXXX

—- XXXX

—- XXXX

>>>> Anatomy 

With a hum, he leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the metal table.

Science was a mess of probability and fact. Gills were the overall priority of Project: Pressure. Although Z-13 didn’t possess any at the moment, it was expected that it would gain the ability within the next two dosages. If the development didn’t prove successful…the thought of it alone sent a zing of annoyance through his body. 

But, no matter. The next biggest concern was insemination. In order to ensure Z-13’s pregnancy, another examination had to be done during the next round of testing. The question of how came to life and he spent minutes musing over the possibilities both presented and not found. 

Feeling an idea fester, he switched to his other monitor and dragged open his email. Quickly, he found the person he was looking for and keys tapped away in a musical rhythm as the email grew longer and longer. 

He found himself in the rhythm of emails, locating the various people needed to complete this endeavor when he received a notification on his computer. He had received an email. Clicking on it, the screen opened to display nothing but a link. 

In aggravation, he sneered. Everyone knew nowadays to at least provide context with the links they’d send, otherwise it would go in the trash. Which imbecile could have done this?

Ready to tear them a new one, he searched for the sender responsible. But upon seeing who it was, he drew a full stop. 

It was Mr. Shade’s secretary. 

Immediately, he adjusted his posture, steeling himself for the video call that was about to take place. 

The call connected. 

A woman in a form fitting button up answered. Her bobbed hair was dark red while her eyes were chocolate brown. With a slight chub to her face and one mole under each eye, Travis could spot her anywhere. 

“Good evening, Dr. Bloom.”

This woman was Roxanne, Mr. Shade’s personal assistant. 

The background showed the interior of a jet. Where they were traveling to, Bloom did not care. There were more important things to discuss. 

“Good evening Ms. Blaire. I trust you and Mr. Shade are in good health from our last meeting?”

She nodded and her bob swayed with her movement. Her face was neutral as she responded. 

“Of course. However we both know that is not of importance.” She answered and Bloom’s smile thinned. She was not one for pleasantries. 

“Regarding Z-13’s possibility of impregnation, Mr. Shade has added new requirements for this to begin.” 

Ah. He tapped his foot underneath the desk. How…delightful. 

She reached off screen to procure a classified Manila folder. She laid it on the desk in front of her and flipped it open. 

“These papers are the requirements in full detail. They will be faxed to you shortly. In the meantime, allow me to summarize his statement.” She started and Bloom nodded. 

“On top of the original objective, Mr. Shade has requested Z-13 be increased in size as soon as possible.” 

His eyes widened a fraction. Increased in size? He gaped at her, lost for words and waiting for her to continue. When Roxanne did not, he pressed forward. 

“It’s certainly… a last minute request. I’m curious.”

“As you are aware, Z-13 is not the only one of its kind.” Roxanne began and the doctor nodded in thought. Of course, Z-13 was not the only one. In an effort to traverse the deep, many subjects had come before it. Whether it be to stress, injury, or unable to handle the mutations, they all ended up obsolete. 

All except Z-13. 

Of course, other divisions were responsible for similar subjects. Lost souls just like Z-13 ending up in the same predicament, guided like the sheep they were into the slaughter over and over until one prevailed. 

“The southeastern location has been in touch with Mr. Shade concerning the relocation of their specimen, C-17.” 

“The division responsible for Power Haul?”  The southeastern sector was tasked with creating a being that could easily protect company vessels in the water. Big, agile, and strong enough to withstand blows from anything, the sector had failed multiple times to create a subject who could do it all. It was only right they were blessed with the discovery of C-17. 

Found 6 miles below the surface near the southeastern sector, C-17 was a behemoth that was quickly captured for observation. It had been under possession for nearly five years, so to suddenly relocate it?

 “There had been no discussion of this at the last delegation. Why the sudden need to relocate it?” 

Periodically the various departments came together to discuss plans for the quarter ahead. At the last one, merely one month ago, there had been no discussion concerning C-17’s relocation. If anything all had seemed jolly for those at the Southeastern sector. 

Roxanne sighed, her irritation palpable as she shook her head. “The overseer for C-17 has expressed his desire to terminate it due to its aggressive behavior.”

His face must have shown his curiosity as she quickly went into detail. 

“A containment breach occurred in the facility, resulting in the deaths of ⅓ of the personnel.” If he had been drinking anything he would have spat it out. ⅓ of the personnel??? Why hadn’t anyone been notified? 

“I am unable to share the details of how exactly this occurred.However, in light of recent events, the board has decided instead of termination, C-17 would be relocated to your division, specifically for the…breeding process.  C-17, despite its aggression, still holds attributes that if mixed with Z-13’s temperament, could yield immense profit for the company.” 

“Too much has been invested into C-17 to terminate it due to insolent circumstances.” She finished, taking a notepad and scratching something into it. It was quiet for a moment as Travis lost himself in thought. While his question was answered, something still felt off. 

“You say C-17 displayed aggression, enough to kill off ⅓ of a building’s personnel. Who’s to say Z-13 won’t be next in line?” He kept his tone as neutral as he could, holding back any irritation at being forced to babysit a 20 ton mutated monster. He would not be in charge of a being who could destroy all his work in one fell swoop. The audacity to even suggest it? 

She was quiet as well, tasting her words before she opened her mouth. 

“Its DNA suggests its relations to the Orca, Tiger Shark, moray eel, cuvier's beaked whale, sperm whale, stonefish and a Whale shark.” The secretary read, eyes swiping over a document that no doubt held all the information on C-17. 

“As you know, its primary purpose was to defend cargo ships and submarines from both human and wildlife.  C-17 does have a high chance of killing Z-13 if proper action is not taken.” Roxanne deadpanned. He ignored the implication. 

“However, in taking a mate, the chance of death dwindles, seeing as it was composed of animals that for lack of a better word, ‘cherish’ their mates.  I guess you could say Z-13’s survival rate purely depends on both you and its willingness to do so.”

She looked up from the files to stare at his eyes, her own chocolate brown a murky darkness that seemed to pull him in like a black hole. 

“Unless you’d like to speak to Mr. Shade directly, I highly suggest you accelerate the chemical series for Z-13. I cannot help you if you fail.” 

He swallowed.  

“Yes ma’am.”

Without another word, she closed the Manila folder and slid it off to the side. 

“We will be in touch in a week. The overseer has requested C-17 be gone in two. We hope in time to hear good news.”

And with that, the video call came to a close. All was silent in his office, the ticking of the analog clock blurring to the back of mind as he stared at the screen in front of him. 

Of course, this would have been too easy. Going to the Upper Chamber, obtaining Mr. Shade’s approval, Z-13 displaying excellent progress in its mutations, it was all going to well. He would have to procure stable results within two weeks, less than that if C-17’s aggression was really out of hand as Roxanne claimed. To initiate enough growth, strength and resilience to take on that animal…

His fingers drummed on the table as he lost himself in thought. Quickly, the brunet grabbed his mouse and navigated the digital space that was his desktop. Clicking, clicking, clicking until finally, his eyes landed on the file he needed. It was old, a one off experiment that had been done long ago when the Hadal division had been erected. 

But despite its age, it proved to be just what he needed at this very moment. He exited off the file and leaned back into his chair. Spinning in furniture, Travis blew out a breath and found himself staring at the backdrop of his computer. 

Z-13 stared back, fear prevalent in its human brown eyes as it laid strapped down to a table, messy overgrown hair a tangled mess. Blood dripped from its nose to decorate the table in its life essence. 

One of his colleagues had taken the still shot from a recording moments before Z-13’s first injection. It was the beginning of something beautiful, otherworldly. 

His fingers glided down the computer’s screen, his loving touch following the trail of tears on Z-13’s face. When his hand drew back, of course, they were dry as can be yet his fingers rubbed against each other, sampling what was in his grasp yet could not have. His glasses gleamed in the light of the computer and the man sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair.

Travis’s work would not falter now. There was much to be accomplished

Chapter Text

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“Order in the court. All rise please.” 

He found himself rising, clammy hands held behind his back as he looked ahead. The sound of fabric shifting was heard as a sea of people rose in unison. There was a faint cough while the repetitive tap, tap, tap of shoes was heard to his left. 

His eyes watched an older white man shuffle up the stairs leading to the bench. He was bald in his age, sun spots freckled along his skin while his saggy skin reminded Sebastian of the old family hound. 

The man’s eyes, guarded by his circular glasses that seemed too small for his face, observed everyone in the courtroom before they landed on him in his glory. Under his heavy gaze, the nineteen year old found his eyes flicking away to stare at the mahogany desk before him, shame settling in to whisper in his ears. 

His hair was overgrown, messy and unkempt from spending weeks in a jail cell. A button up that was ill fit in the aftermath of his weight loss but as neat as it could be in the situation. His ears caught a faint sniffle and oddly enough a woman crying. 

He swallowed the wad of spit and nausea. 

The man bowed and the courtroom bowed back. 

“The court is now in session. You may be seated.”

At once, everyone returned to their seats. The raven placed his arms on the table and calmly like a newborn deer rested his hands on top of each other. He felt his lawyer’s eyes digging into the side of his face and ignored her. He was fine. Everything was fine and would be fine. 

“Good morning everyone. Uhhh, my name is Justice Graham. If the council could introduce themselves for our records.” His voice was rough from age and what had to be from tobacco. He spoke slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to be there and rather be at home with his feet propped up the recliner. 

One by one the lawyers for Sebastian and the company he worked at previously stood up and introduced themselves. The judge nodded, looking down at the paper before him. He smacked his dry lips, silently reading out the lines before he looked up, beady eyes freezing the teen on the spot. 

“And the defendant, Sebastian A-ray-yuh Solace, is he present?”

Clamping his mouth shut at the pronounciation, he merely nodded his head, trying his best to remain strong. 

“Yes, sir. G-good morning.” He greeted, eyes flicking up and down from the table to the man who would decide his fate. 

“Good morning.” He seemed reluctant in replying and cleared his throat, a heavy tension coming over the courtroom as he picked up the paper. Silence took over the courtroom, the occasional paper shuffling and cough oscillating through the area. 

Sebastian felt the nerves kick up. Ants crawled along his arms to pinpoint on various spots of his body, drilling holes to worm their way into his body and drain him dry. They were watching him. He knew they were. They all were. Staring. Judging. Accusing. 

He felt like a kid again, getting blamed for destroying a jar he couldn’t even dreamed of reaching in school. 

The judge placed the paper down and smacked his thin lips. 

“Would anyone like to address any comments or concerns about this case and why we’re all here today.”

No one spoke a word. After waiting a heartbeat, the judge nodded and smacked his lips. Sebastian wondered if he was as dehydrated as he looked. 

“Okay.” Turning to look over at Sebastian’s table, the man nodded their way. “Would you like to make an opening statement madam?” 

His lawyer nodded and stood up with a few papers in hand. Her heels clicked as she made her way to the the middle of the courtroom. She stood tall in her navy blue suit, blond bob fluffy from humidity as she turned to address everyone. 

“Good morning everyone.” Once she received a nod from the audience, she turned to the judge. “Your honor, this is a case of mistaken identity.” She began, voice strong as she recounted the events.  “On the morning of April fourth, 2013, our client, Sebastián A. Solace was clocked in for his part time shift at the construction site located in Downtown, Miami.” 

He swallowed another wad of spit and tried to distance himself from that day. The alarms from haulers and dozers in operation edged in his consciousness. 

“At the time of the incident,  Mr. Solace had not been near the supporting lines for the beams that had resulted in the death of his nine colleagues. There are multiple witness testimonies and chat logs between Mr. Solace and one witness to support his whereabouts at the time.” She finished, folding her hands in front of her as she came to a stop in front of the judge. 

“We anticipate our client will describe how during his shift, he’d actually been in communication with this witness to arrive at their agreed meetup area for lunch, evidenced through their chat history and the two discarded lunches left after the incident had occurred.” the jury broke out in a light mumble, whispering to each other and taking in what they heard. He tried not to focus on the repetitive “lies, lies, lies” that popped up. 

The judge nodded at this and graced his chunky finger on the paper’s edge. 

“Ah, speaking of lunch, are you hungry Mr. Solace?”

Every minute shuffle, cough, and breath he’d blocked out had suddenly been sucked out the room. The echoing silence rung in his ears and weighed on his shoulders like boulders. He’d been zoned out, trying to keep himself as sane and he could while he burnt a hole into the table. But the ringing in his ears tuned Sebastian back in The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Confused, the raven felt his brow scrunch. What? Why would he be hungry?

When his eyes moved from the table to in front of him, Sebastian could stop his eyes from widening, his back slamming into the chair in an effort to put as much distance between him and…whatever the hell he was looking at. 

His brain forced him to freeze, to sit there and take it all in as he tried to make sense of it all. 

In front of him was what he could only describe as a complete blood bath. Nine people in various states of death were strewn across the courtroom. Someone was crushed under a steel beam, half of their remaining as the other side gushed blood and entrails. Someone else was face down, an alarmingly large puddle of gorey wine spilled all over to stain the dirt floor red. 

Against the bench where the court reporter had once been, someone sat with their head lolled to the side, ginger hair tinted red as the glass shards dotted their skin. Dust floated in the air, a horn sounding in the distance as yells and screams were heard all around. 

“CALL 911-“ 

“—GET ‘EM ON THE PHONE NOW—“

“—CABLES SNAPPED—“

Suddenly people were shoving into him, sending him and the chair he was in toppling over. He wasn’t in the court room anymore, hell he was nowhere near the judicial building. Now, Sebastian was back to where it all started, laying helplessly in the dirt as iron, oil, and dust pierced his lungs.

“—-HELP ME! I THINK SOMEONE’S STUCK!!”

“—THEY COULDNT HAVE SNAPPED THEY WERE BRAND NEW—“

“—SOMEONE PLEASE—“

His chest heaved as he struggled to get back up, face and body covered in white dust as he attempted to gain his footing. What happened?! What the fuck was happening?! The corner of his vision grew darker and darker, the sound of children laughing prevalent as everything closed in. Why was he back here, he shouldn’t be here—

Another force knocked into him, sending him and the assailant to the floor. The man didn’t even care he’d sent the teen to the floor, scrambling up from the dirt to resume his desperate search. . 

He didn’t do it. He didn’t do it. He did not do it. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Mr. Solace?”

That voice again. Serene. Calm. Collected. As if there weren’t people screaming bloody murder. Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes away, a morbid curiosity forcing him to watch greedy desperate hands latch onto their trapped friend’s clothes to save them, not realizing they only pushed their friend further into hell as sinew and ligaments snapped from being tugged from under twenty ton steel.  

Was he hungry?

His head dragged to the left, away from humans who had succumbed to primal instinct to get away, run, flee. 

Merely a foot away was a lanky man in a lab coat who seemed untouched by everything. His coat was clean, free from the surrounding dust and oil.  His dark hair was slicked back and glasses rested on his hooked nose. There was a small, friendly smile on his lips. But he couldn’t see his face. He had no face. 

For some reason, this didn’t startle him. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Mr. Solace?”

His arm moved and Sebastian’s eyes snapped to see the man (Scientist? Doctor?) holding a woman who he realized was sobbing violently. She had on a lab coat as well, outfit dirty from unidentifiable stains as she clutched onto the hand that held her in a vice grip. She bemoaned to let go, tugging yet failing to get away. 

Her legs were broken

“All alone…to suffer God’s Ire for denying your calling.” The man commented to himself, as if he was talking about the weather and not sending the teen’s head spinning with his cryptic comments. 

Someone yelled for 911 as sirens were faintly heard. His chest heaved, inhaling and exhaling over and over again. His heart hurt with every pound it did. He couldn’t breathe. Oh god he couldn’t breathe—

“Surely, you must be starving.” The scientist settled and suddenly he was no longer in the construction yard. He was back in the courtroom, at the table and all was quiet. It took him a few moments to calm his nerves, breaths chaotic as he tried various breath exercises.

 Sebastian’s breath caught, hiccups and gasps escaping before he swallowed, held his breath, and sighed heavily. He closed his eyes, breathed once, twice, before he finally opened on the exhale. 

He waited for the sound of anything to reach his ears. Despite the unnerving silence, he swallowed and released a large sigh. He was alone in the courtroom. 

“Alone? Not quite.” A voice pointed out and he yelled, turning around as quickly as possible to see the same man as before. 

“Whatthefuck—Who are you?! How did you get in here?!” Goosebumps peppered across his skin as he tried to put as much distance between him and the stranger. 

“You haven’t finished your food.” The man told him and Sebastian couldn’t help the cock of his head, feeling completely thrown off by the statement. He was stunned for two seconds, the random response causing a brain fart for only a moment until he gathered his wits. 

“Are you stupid..I just asked you a question-!” He growled and the man merely faced him, mouth shaping into a grin.  

“Indeed you did. And I just told you, you haven’t finished your food.” The doctor sang.Sebastian felt his eyebrows furrow, narrowed confused eyes looking around. “Wh-what? My food? What fucking—“ The man pointed down and his head obediently followed the direction of his finger. 

Only to see a chopped up corpse laid on the table. It didn’t take him long to realize who it was, not when he stared into that woman’s eyes earlier and heard her sob to be released. 

Petrified eyes stared at him as her blood spread cold into the suffocating silence. Gore covered the mahogany table, her neck twisted and left arm gone. Parts of her torso were gone.  Her glasses from earlier were missing as well, 

His stomach felt bloated. 

He felt full. 

He felt satisfied. 

When Sebastian retched in his dream, he woke to his body doing it in reality, his throat convulsing to expel any and everything it could. The sound of children squealing bounced off the walls to reverb in his ears, heightened senses irritated by the displaced cheer.

At first he thought he had finally gone off the deep end. Children? Giggling? Please, he was going insane. He had to be. 

 But it felt too real to pass off as hallucinations. The fact that he could feel someone near him, multiple someones did not help. His nostrils flared, deformed maw twitching up and down as he instinctively scented the air. 

He picked up the scent of sour bile of vomit, old blood, and the weight of oil in the room. The combined odor nearly made him fetch again but he pushed through. Was there someone here?

Another giggle sounded to his right and his head snapped towards it. Someone was here. The thought sent shivers along his shoulders and a burning fear gripped his core. 

Who was in here? He could hear a squelching sound accompanied with high pitched giggles along with a repetitive swooshing noise. 

He dragged his glowing orbs to scope out the room and Sebastian blanked, body frozen at the unexpected addition. 

There were squids in his cell. 

What the actual fuc—

“I didn’t know my cell became a fucking aquarium—whatthehell are you?!” His shoulders rose to his ears, his voice pitching just the same. The giggles echoed in his mind, bounced off walls, and the experiment flinched at the resonance. 

The squid, man-thingys seemed to girate and flinch wildly toward him, floating closer to ghost along his tail, pulling and prodding at whatever curious tentacles could reach as they inspected him.  

“Aquarium?” A childish voice wondered, What is that?—“

“—Giant thing—“ 

“—we are squ—“

“—darkness we live—“

A chorus of voices spoke, tripping over each other to create a chorus of blabber. Their voices made his head throb. His ears became glued to his head while his lure went on the fitz. 

The floating voids drew back everytime it lit up, the sparks deterring their presence but not enough to combat their curiosity

“Woah, personal space? Listen I don’t what you are but do NOT fucking—hey!” His warning went unheard as they conquered his light, drawing closer to touch and touch. 

His breaths became sharper as his chest struggled to drag in much needed air. They kept touching him. Why were they touching him? Why wouldn’t they listen? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? His skin itched as the sensation of wet slime seemed to coat his being. 

The feeling clawed up to his neck, throat tight as he watched abyssal tentacles trail along his scales. Panicked orbs casted a blue light on the beings who giggled amongst themselves. They enjoyed touching him. They enjoyed his discomfort. They didn’t care. They found it funny. 

There was no visible mark but the heavy melting sludge of their ink remained all the same. 

He felt nausea lick the back of his throat and his sharp teeth nearly sliced through his lip. The thought of puking again sent phantom aches up his throat. He wanted them off. They needed to get off. 

Trying to dislodge the stubborn creatures, the fish man found himself pressing into the corner of his cell, damn near merging with the wall while his tail curled and flopped all over. That didn’t stop them from moving with him, some daring to even climb up his mass to prod even more. 

Their sudden advance made him panic, a fire burning down his neck as his wide eyes watched the beings come closer and closer to surround his being. A tentacle rubbed against his tail and when the tip of it tried to press its way into his silt, he felt something snap. 

“DON'T TOUCH ME!” Sebastian roared, desperation coloring his voice as he drew back as quickly as possible. His tail lashed out with his esca sending the cell into a bright white. The squids twitched erratically, ghostly bellows echoing in the room as creepy faces shined on the void that was their heads.

 Flying into the corners of the cell with child-like screams trailing behind them, the squids melted in the shadows, escaping Sebastian’s wrathful light. 

His clawed hands slammed over the silt, arms shaking as he tried to swallow back his sob and keep a lookout for any other squid who was feeling risky. He didn’t know that his hair was puffed like a startled cat, nor that his lure was switching on and off like a shitty lightbulb in relation to his emotions. All he knew was that he was tired, so tired of being touched without his goddamn consent. 

Tears burned his eyes and Sebastian drew in a deep breathe. 

Held it. 

And released. 

He repeated this action, looking up at the dark ceiling as he counted to seven every time.

They were gone. 

He was fine.

Nothing was touching him. 

He was alone. 

A snivel echoed in the cell, wet and nasty as his head hung forward. 

He was fine. 

~*~

He had passed out at some point. When he couldn’t bother remembering. Not when the foreboding sound of a door depressurizing reached his ears. 

In a flurry of motion, Sebastian, still half-asleep, tried and failed to put distance between him and the extraction team that marched into the room. The light from outside his cell flooded the room, its clinical white bouncing off the metal floor to sear into his eyes. 

Sebastian flinched hard, eyes pulsing in pain from the stab of light. Disoriented, he tried to hide himself away but knew he wouldn’t be able to.  He was already lodged in the corner and the cell was only so big. The typical blips of radio devices sounded and his ears pressed against his head. 

“Emu Five, is target in sight? Emu Five, is target in sight?”

Someone sighed deeply. His ears twitched toward the sound. Fabric rustled and shifted before a click was heard. Sebastian pulled his tail closer to himself, eyes shut tight as cold shivers wrecked his body. 

“Emu Five to Lab 2, target is in sight. Z-13 is trying to keep distance, over.”

At the bored statement, some men in the group began to laugh and Sebastian swallowed down the shame he felt. He felt like an ant nearing its end from cruel children, ready to snuff out a life just because they could. They could laugh if they wanted. They didn’t get it. They never would. 

 Metal clicked and clacked around when he heard something turn on. A scent was in the air. Something that made his lungs feel light as a feather as goosebumps prickled along in skin. 

Before he could brace, lighting zapped his spine to course through his entire body. An aborted yell was ripped from his maw, eyes slamming open while his jaw clenched.  The lure sparked like a broken light, the esca sac responding violently to the chemical signals in his body.  His tail wasn’t too far off, the limb coiling in on itself to strike out at random. 

While he knew only seconds had passed, it felt like minutes had dragged on before his body finally stopped seizing. His eyes, having rolled to the back of his head, came back to reveal pained glowing orbs. 

The fish man groaned in agony as a headache began to bloom at his temple. He could hear someone in the group chucking at his misfortune and the action had his throat burning. He tried to look at the person in particular but noticed something in his effort. 

Squinting against the harsh light, lure sparking in an out, the subject tried its best to make out the shapes before him. After squinting and blinking desperately, he found himself struggling to correct his vision all until his brain whispered something terrible.

 He felt his heart drop to the pits of stomach. Tears pricked at his eyes, the burning sensation only serving to further drown him in humiliation as he laid on his side like a dying dog. No. No this couldn’t be right. 

He couldn’t see. 

He tried to coax his vision to focus, eyelids fluttering desperately to get his eyes to just look at the people in front of him. But nothing worked. 

He couldn’t fucking see. 

Everything was too bright, almost like stars shining in his vision while the dark bodies of the humans before him remained blurred figures. 

It was only because he knew he was looking at people that he knew that they were. Bulky armor distorting the  human shape but not enough to throw his brain off. But he didn’t understand. His vision has been perfectly fine earlier. 

He could make out the scientists faces earlier, he was able to see Bloom’s shitty fucking grin and other blank faces in the window. Shit, he’d been able to make out the damn molecules of the divots his claws had caused in the ground. 

“Nice to know the doc wasn’t shitting around.” The man in front of him grumbled and he couldn’t stop the pitchy growl from coming forward, brows or what was left of them pitching up to a point as he tried to back away. Now in this moment though, when the light outside cell beaming behind the guards, it was clear. 

 He was rendered blind. 

Someone took another step closer and Sebastian’s growl became a yowl, a human sob somewhere in the animalistic plea for mercy. 

His ears, at least the one that could, fanned out in an effort to keep track of the enforcers. His nose worked overtime too, deep cavernous breaths trying to clue the animal to where they were. But of course, Sebastian wasn’t an animal. At least, he hadn’t been one that was used to such abilities. 

All that reached his nose was the heavy scent of sweat and manufactured cloth.  His ears instead of focusing on just their armor and heavy boots, heard the groaning and bending of support in the underwater lab, the clicks and bleeps of machinery not helping whatsoever. 

Another zap came at his waist and Sebastian seized again, the damn near fatal shock coursing through his veins as a seizure took hold. Distantly, he could hear their chuckles as they took turns testing out their new toys on his twitching body. 

He felt burns on his side dig into his ribs down to his bones. He felt something hot bubble in his nose only to drip down his face. The liquid fell in his mouth to leave an iron stain. 

Another electric bleep echoed in the room. 

“Emu Five, this is Lab Two. You’re late. Where is Z-13?” A woman drawled on the end, monotone in command before the line was cut. The commotion in the room died down as the soldiers turned to face their leader, leaving the subject to twitch and drool from the onslaught. Sebastian felt the man’s heavy stare weigh on him and could feel the shame nestle in his rib cage as he laid.

The leader smacked his teeth before barking orders to the rest of the group. 

“BRING IN THE DAMN BED WE GOTTA MOVE!” 

They all broke out in coordinated shuffling and he saw the the leader’s figure walking up to kneel directly in front of his face. In a last ditch effort to preserve himself, Sebastian allowed his chest to rumble with a growl, mouth opening to reveal jagged razor sharp teeth while his gleaming eyes narrowed.

 He couldn’t see the guys face but he’s sure the dickhead didn’t appreciate that, as the next second a steel toe boot stomped on his lure. The thought of pissing him off though, Sebastian felt a childish satisfaction coil in his gut. 

A pinprick came from the side of his neck and sent him spiraling down an abyss, lids fluttering as he began to lose consciousness. The last thing he heard was the mumble and jumble of men talking to ew h other before it all blurred to nothing

.

.

.

At some point of losing consciousness, you get tired of doing so. 

When Sebastian came to, it was in parts. 

He could hear people talking, voices calm and logical as they rattled numbers to each other. Something was periodically beeping. 

“….asuring at thirty one centimeters. Each tooth varies in length.”

“What about the left upper canine?” 

“That’s the longest, at four point fifty two centimeters.”

The next thing that arrived was feeling, though it was heavily muted. 

His mouth was wide open, drool gliding out to flood out the corner. The heavy taste of latex invaded along with thing fingers that pulled and prodded with medical expertise. The cold metal of the table he laid on felt like ice all over yet the people touching him, it felt like cloth gliding on his blue-gray skin. His body felt fuzzy as bodily functions kicked up. 

“Z-13 is becoming conscious.” A woman’s voice met his ears and the appendages twitched. The familiar tingling of his lure turning on centered at his forehead. The fingers in his mouth retracted quickly just as his jaw hinged shut. Someone cursed while another in the hummed, laptop keys clacking as they marked down their observations. 

“Reaction time is significantly dulled by sedative.” 

“Significantly? Fucking hell..” The scientist said as they got their breathing under control. His nose twitched heavily as something acidic enetered the room. 

“I see. Jones, the sedative?.” The voice he heard yet, the ice against his back swallowed him whole. Right next to him, as if he would rather be anywhere else than with people he deemed stupid, was Doctor Bloom. His eyes felt like cement was coating them. Pushing through boulders, his lids finally peeled back only to see darkness. Something was on his face. 

When Sebastian sluggishly tried to move away, to allow distance between him and his torturer, he felt cold metal bite into his wrists and neck. A few moments of wiggling, His tail moving up to knock into a scientist’s leg and startle them, he felt a hand press on his collarbone. It’s warmth contrasted sharply against his biting nerves and the disgust filtering through him. 

That fuck was touching him. Why. Why was he—

“On standby, doctor.”

“Good. Let’s begin the next portion—see how the canal’s been developing.”

The hand trailer down his collarbone to his chest, ghosting down his sternum to rest at his naval. His breathing picked up, becoming rattling as he struggled to breathe. That periodic beeping picked up as well and he belatedly realized it to be a heart monitor. 

“Heart rate elevating—“

“Never mind that. When it reaches near critical, you notify me.” Bloom quickly dismissed Jone’s warning, tone final as his hand swirled around his belly button. Almost as if she hadn’t been interrupted, she smoothly replied with,

“Understood.”

His fingers dipped into the crevice of his naval, pushing and prodding while another came up to press at the bottom of his stomach. The combined pressure made Sebastian cringe. He tried to speak and at first all that came out was a disgruntled groan, his voice cracking and raspy from his slumber. He swallowed, trying again with success.

“Don’t…don’t touch me…!” Bloom chuckled, his amusement ending with a sigh as he continued to prod and push at his stomach. “Now, Z-13 it seems you are getting dumber. A shame.” The jab caused a growl to start up, some scientists gasping as his mouth pulled back to reveal teeth. 

“Ah-ah, none of that.” The doctor tutted before lighting coursed through him, his body seized and Sebastian cried out, feeling his chest grow tight as his muscles locked into place. Blinding pain took its path through his nervous system before it finally ceased after seconds. His chest, bowed up, crashed down into the metal table, leaving him panting as he tried to gather himself. 

His hand patted his tummy and he heard a whisper reach his ear. 

“Good boy…” 

He wanted to puke. 

In a louder voice, Bloom began to speak.

“I’m sure our extraction team already introduced you to these batons. I’d suggest you be on your best behavior moving forward.”  He grunted and someone came closer before walking away. Both of the doctor’s hands resumed their motions. 

“I don’t want you to—stop fucking—OW!” The hands left his body and someone zapped him again, his body seizing and twitching before calming. Footsteps came closer to stand next to his head. He felt the man’s body heat as he drew closer. A hand carded through his hair only to grab both the strands and the base of lure in a death grip. 

He cried out again, gritting his teeth and causing pinpricks of blood to appear on his lips. 

“I’ve waited too long to get my hands on you, to let your childish attitude ruin it, Z-13. Everytime you act out, you will be punished accordingly. Do try to make the smart choice.” 

The man stood up and barked someone’s name. 

“Cassia?”

“Ye-yes Doctor Bloom…” A woman meekly responded, her voice nasally yet comforting as she came closer. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here. Get on with it.” He seemed urgent, like time was running faster than he could keep up with. 

“Don’t mess up.” The man told her and Sebastian heard her swallow. That acidic smell was back again, this time tinged with a sweetness that made something in his body stand at attention.

Nothing happened for a while, everyone else seemingly waiting patiently while Sebastian nearly suffocated from hyperventilating. Suddenly, fingers prodded at his…silt and Sebastian felt his stomach drop as panic took over. 

“No! No, no, don’t—“ 

“Hush Z-13.” 

Of course that didn’t stop his pleas. Beneath the mask, his eyes were wide as they frantically looked around as if he’d be able to find a way out. As if he’d stop them violating his being inside and out. A heartbeat was in his ears, the rushing sound of his own blood and the monitor becoming more erratic. 

Fingers spread the silt with medical precision, the person seemingly looking around for something. A biting metal met warm tissue, meeting heavy resistance before the tool burst through and stretched his virgin hole wide. He sobbed. It burned. It burned so bad! He didn’t want this. He really didn’t but they wouldn’t listen. 

The person below swallowed again before the metal piece was pushed into him. He gasped as that, his begging coming to a stop as he got overwhelmed by the sensation of being forced apart to gape open. 

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it woman!”

There he was again, desperately telling the woman to continue. She hesitated before continuing her job, shaky hands and fingers continuing their violation as she inserted tool after tool into Sebastian. Something scraped against his walls and he sobbed again. A pinch here and there before a genuine fire ignited with a stab of pain. He gasped and tried to move away from it to no avail. 

“Sample retrieved.” The woman announced as the metal thing was taken out almost gently. Sebastian didn’t bother biting back his nausea, turning his head to wear he believed Bloom was to allow the vomit to come out. The sound of it hitting the floor was heard, wet plops heard as his stomach acid was expelled. The man didn’t react if it did hit him, the hand in his hair continuing its blood turning caress. 

“Good. I’ll be leaving to go clean up this…mess Z-13 lovingly gave me. I’ll return shortly.” 

So it had gotten on him? He could almost jump for joy. 

Another sob, wet and thick like sludge was ripped from his chest. The heart monitor still beeped with urgency. 

Fuck. 

He didn’t hear the woman’s apologies, said so softly it could easily be mistaken as the draft from the A/C and lost under the weight of what was done

Chapter Text

File cabinets shuttered open with a BANG! as twitchy fingers carded through files upon files. When the person failed in finding the document, a frustrated groan was heard in the small shared office area. The person stood up straight stretching out her back as she reached up to adjust her slipping frames. 

Turning around, the woman revealed her frantic demeanor, mouth screwed up as she nibbled on her bottom lip. “Where is that file?” Muttering to herself, her eyes flew over to her desk. 

‘CASSIA’  the boring letters stood in their glory on her desk. Looking at her monitor, the bright white of the screen nearly made her squint as she recalled what she’d seen earlier. 

She’d been putting together the last bit of Z-13’s observation notes from its recovery period when her computer had sounded an electronic ping, the notification startling her as she fumbled for the pen that bounced between her fingers.

 When she finally caught it with a fist, she scooted closer to her desk to see what email had graced her inbox. Her coworkers were here and there, some doing the same as her, marking observations while others conversed with each other about whatever their minds landed on. 

Opening her mail, Cassia had taken to reading under her breath, lips forming with each word until slowly she came to a stop. She had felt the migraine beginning to pulse while a primal fear circled in her gut to make her go cold. The people around her paid her no mind, isolating her to let her fester in a bubble of apprehension and fear. 

The screen glared back in a cast of white. Her eyes focused on every word. When they didn’t change she sighed heavily, leaning forward to cradle her head in her shaky hands. 

The email was clear cut. Dr. Bloom wanted her in the lab, mainly to be the lead in Z-13’s pre and post physical. She was expected to be there on time. 

Failure to do so would lead to expected consequences. 

      Her mind detailed back to merely a week ago when the crazy doctor had reminded her of where and who she worked for. Shortly after the injection of F-DA, she’d felt disgusted, appalled, whatever emotion one would feel knowing they were looking at something that used to be human laid bare before them. 

      She had made a mistake then. Maybe it was staring after Z-13’s unique blue form as he was rolled out of the lab. Maybe it was the way she failed to hold back her gag at the red blood that now seemed purple in the light.  

     Either way, she hadn’t noticed Bloom coming closer to stand behind her. Not until her peripheral had picked up on him suddenly being right next to her. 

      “If my memory doesn’t fail me, the overseer for Z-317 is looking for a subject for the next experiment.” He began, tone almost curious as he stared at the screen displaying Z-13’s newly developed womb. 

Cassia said nothing. Bloom continued.

      “I’ve been meaning to make some suggestions to her, she’s always preferred strong willed candidates…Any ideas, Ms. Yul?” 

     Her heart had stopped beating. It had to have. The hairs at the back of her neck rose and suddenly the lab felt twenty degrees colder. She felt his gaze pierce the side of her head while she struggled to simply breathe. 

     “I suppose not. Please don’t be shy to notify me if anything changes.” Bloom concluded before he turned and walked away. It was only when the pressurized door finished its routine that Cassia gained the courage to turn, feeble like a spooked doe as her trembling gaze landed on the man’s exit. 

Her coworkers said nothing, passive to her potential death and her failing composure. 

     Later on, she had believed herself safe like a fool—that Dr. Bloom had somehow brushed off her perceived insubordination and insult to his command. And as all fools came to find out, she was reminded of her stance once more when the madman had paged her in the middle of writing an email.  

     The talky had blared in the middle of the office, her colleagues merely casting her a glance as Bloom’s voice, tampered by static, requested her to Z-13’s cell. 

     The only thing she remembered out her journey was a hurricane of thoughts and ever growing need to find safety, to get as far away from that cell as possible. She wasn’t stupid. Cassia wouldn’t be here if she was. 

    Nobody was dumb enough to ignore how some of their colleagues would disappear on a random day when they were meant to experiment on the newest DNA splice together or meet up later on for shitty coffee that made you grimace and nearly gag but everything was better because they were together. 

     Nobody was dumb enough to believe the overseers when they were “transferred” to another location. It was insulting really that they genuinely thought they believed the excuses. 

“Oh Johnson? They’re on leave.

“Arleen?…oh her—yeah she’s been transferred to the northern location.”

    Her mind supplied the noise of overseers blandly providing the whereabouts for missing workers. She swallowed and felt her head hang to stare at the smooth flooring. 

     Maybe they didn’t think that. Maybe they just knew anyone who said something would be next for their “retirement.”

     They were eleven miles below the surface—damn near 20,000 meters below. Inventory was restocked twice a month for the personnel and once a month for the anomalies they housed. There was only so much meat one could cram onto a measly submarine. Yet their carnivorous roommates never went hungry. 

    Funny. She felt her knees getting weaker by the second as her breath grew short. 

     She ignored the way her hands shook as she inserted her keycard, the door beeping before it opened up. 

     It was only her and Bloom, the man standing over the abyss laid before him. She had almost believed she’d gotten lost with the time, perhaps too early or godforbid too late for her arrival. 

     All was quiet as Bloom beckoned her forward with a lazy wave. Despite nearly buckling on the spot to turn tail and run, the redhead meekly stepped forward. 

     She stood besides and kept her greeting cordial, voice quiet in an effort to avoid upsetting her superior. He said nothing.  Cassia focused forward, her finger automatically pushing her glasses up as her eyes roamed. Obviously Z-13 was still in there. The entire base would have been on lockdown if it wasn’t in it’s cell.  

    For a while nothing happened. The air almost became awkward (of course this was only on her side) as she tried to see why in hells name Bloom had wanted her here. Irritation kindled in her gut and Cassia, having always been an open book couldn’t stop her brow from furrowing in obvious show of her emotions. 

     Seriously, while she was still confused and scared she was supposed to working on that email Jones wanted from her—

     A growl came through the speaker. Small as it was, it was still enough to silence her thoughts. Looking around as if the source of it would suddenly appear, Cassia nearly jumped when the growl got louder before it ebbed with a muffled squelching and popping. 

     Then, little blue lights began to illuminate the darkness, cyan circles chasing away  shadows only to succumb shortly after in a rapid pulse. This pattern followed in a spiral, the lights flashing as the creature laid off to the side shivered and stiffened. Bloom reached to his side to press a button and one of the monitors to the side of the room clicked on, inverted colors displaying the live night vision footage. 

     Z-13’s body was a dying kaleidoscope. It groaned in its misery, wounds nearly closed but clearly irritated while self made scratches covered its body. Her eyebrows creased while her head tilted ever so slightly. When was the last time it had eaten? The being was constantly starved due to the mandatory fasts it went through right before injections. 

     It had been almost a week after F-DA’s administration. And prior it had been three days since its last meal. 

Z-13 had to be hungry, no, starving. 

     Almost hesitating, her head angled over to Dr. Bloom’s direction, eyes flitting to the door and at him. . 

     “Excuse me, doctor, but when was the last time Z-13 has eaten? If I remember correctly, it’s been more than a week since its last…meal.” If she could even call it that. It had been a nutrient dense sludge that was practically forced down his—its throat. 

     The man tilted his head left and right, stepping closer to the observation window to peer down at the pitiful creature. 

     “Well, you’d be correct. It has been that long—8 days to be specific.” He provided. The man hummed, shrugging one shoulder as if to say “oh well.”

     “That’s why you’ll be a…witness to its meal. As you know we need a second opinion at every opportunity presented.”

     At that moment, the dogs for the giant door in Z-13’s cell clanged together, the rotary moving as it depressurized to slide back. Light raced into the dark area, the mutated human too weak to move from the sudden onslaught of light. It hissed venomously, jerking back but failing to move away as a woman’s silhouette stood in the light. 

     Her dark figure stepped into the cell while the overhead lights clicked on. The doors shut behind her. 

     Cassia had seen her in the halls before. Those who worked in the same sector did tend to see each other often, whether in passing or in conversation. From what she remembered she always had a resting bitch face, lab coat too tight and promoting her figure to every man in sight. 

She nearly scoffed, nose drinking as her mouth formed a light frown. . 

The professional scientist in her wanted to call her a difficult coworker. 

Cassia wanted to call her a bitch.

The “difficult coworker” sashayed inside the cell, maroon red heels clicking while the metal food tray gleaming in the light. Her eyes squinted while her mouth scrunched up, body angling away to give Z-13 a wide berth. 

      “I can’t believe I have to do this shit…Ugh, it smells like the ocean!” She cursed, one hand flying up to pinch her nose as she delved deeper into the cell. The tray in her other hand held a heap of meat. From what she could see it was fish and some form of red meat. The typical meal given to their guests.

     In the observation room, the speaker popped with static. She felt her hair rise while her ears gently vibrated. Cassia looked around, wondering what that sound was when it became louder and clearer. 

     Z-13 was emitting a subsonic growl, throat vibrating and pulsing as it set its eyes on the woman. From her perspective Cassia couldn’t see Z-13’s face, its hair covering its face as it struggled to boost itself up properly. 

If she did, she would have noted its dead eyed gaze. 

    Looking back, it was obvious. The way he— it stilled as the woman got closer, the way it seemed to slowly ever so slowly move its head to keep an eye on her. Hell,  the vibration of its antennas should have been a dead giveaway but maybe she had just ignored it.

   Bloom’s aborted chuckle was the only thing she had as warning before the cell was suddenly plunged in darkness, the woman’s shocked scream echoing through the speaker. 

Cassia jumped, fear racing down her spine as her heart drew up her throat. Her spine bowed as her palms slammed with a THUD! against the observation glass. What the hell did he do?! Shocked, her head spun from the pit below back to her superior, finding his face bland as ever while he just watched .  

“The..THE LIGHTS!!” She took hurried steps towards him, pointing at the control panel. When he did nothing, Cassia tried again.  “SIR, Please—turn them back on—!”

“—Humans are fascinating creatures, Cassia.”

What. 

The random subject switch threw her for a loop. 

What??

The lights clicked back on.

“HELP!! SOMEONE PLEASE—-OHMYFUCKINGGO—UAAAAAHHAAHAAA!”

A loud bang was heard followed by high pitched sobs. The doctor clicked his tongue, face forming into a grimace as he cringed. 

“Of course, ever the hysterics. Maybe I should have killed her prior…” he mumbled and Cassia couldn’t believe it. A sob itched the back of her throat. Dr. Bloom eyed her with intrigue at her actions, eyeing the way she covered her mouth in shock as she watched her coworker run around like a chicken avoiding slaughter. 

“Truly, they are.” His voice whispered, almost philosophical as he stepped closer to both her and the window. A large bony hand graced the glass, palming the material while dark eyes became entranced by the struggle.

      The woman kept crying, yelling as the sound of plastic and glass crunching crackled through the speaker. 

      “Down there is a person you despise for various personal reasons, and one who despises you all the same. Yet…” His head angled to her, eyes wide as if he found the answer he’d been looking for ages. 

“…You stand here as you are now.” He revered almost like she was a pink sheep in the wild and Cassia’s stomach churned. She quivered with indignation at the insinuation, rising anger crawling to lash out at her superior. 

     “Of—OF COURSE?? How can I stand by when she’s fighting for her life?! It doesn’t matter if she threw her stupid coffee at me last week, she needs help!” Her arm was thrown out in the direction of the cell, the area shaking as Z-13 rampaged below.

     The only thing stopping it from immediately killing her were its own wounds, trails of purple tinged blood increasingly spreading over the area as it slipped on wayward scales.

     The bitch—dear lord she couldn’t remember her name—had thrown her thankfully cold coffee at her in the break room over some misplaced copies.

      Yeah Cassia thought she was a skank, she was always shoving her tits in someone’s face and gone with various coworkers at a time, appearing way too satisfied for sucking someone’s soul out at any means necessary, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve to live!  

     She screamed. Cassia grimaced. 

    The doctor clasped his hands behind him, straightening his posture as he leveled her with a bland look. 

“Yet, she had been the one to volunteer you in her stead.” 

What? 

    She watched him smile at her, the polite expression so misplaced for what he had revealed.

     Seeing her wide eyes, the doctor’s own gaze grew large, head turning to her as if he was surprised. “Ah, don’t tell me I spoiled a secret?” He pondered and shook his head.

     “Please, accept my apology Miss Yul.” He slightly bowed his head and Cassia had to look away as she felt her body quiver. 

“Miss Kelsey is one of my head scientists, well known in the field for her talent in DNA splicing and engineering—similar to you actually.” He waved a hand as if to say no matter, unaffected by the woman’s hollering and monstrous cries down below. 

“She made a mistake, just like you. I knew she was always the promiscuous type, frolicking with men of all status. I hadn’t cared until that resulted in an important document being destroyed.” 

     Suddenly, gone was the polite gaze and in its place one of absolute abhorrence, mouth thin as he stood strong.

     His eyes studied her fleeing form with unforgiving judgement, watching the woman slip and lose a heel in the scuffle, Z-13’s jaws gnashing on the shoe only to spit it out and continue its chase. The heel was reduced to punctured fabric, barely resembling its original form. 

His gaze was sharp like daggers, brows furrowed as he chewed his bottom lip. Opening his mouth only to close it over and over again, the doctor strewed over his words until he finally found them. 

“I’m a man of my word, Miss Yul.” He began, sudden in his movements as he turned to level the cowering woman with an almost crazed urgency. 

“ A man who has earned this position through discipline and hard work.” He growled out and suddenly he stalked over to her direction. Cassia threw her hands in front of her, backing up with every step he took.  

“SIR!?..Sir please—“ she began to plead, heart racing as her mind struggled on how to get out the situation, but she was ignored. 

     “You understand why I had to.” He sounded so sure of it, it made her drown in guilt. “That whore set my projects back by two months—made me, my entire TEAM look like fools in front of the board…it was a miracle Jones was competent enough to bring us back on track with two weeks to spare.”

     He sighed and stopped moving. He took his glasses off to clean them with the handkerchief in his breast pocket. His lips were wrinkled in a sneer, scoffing under his breath as he recalled everything. 

      “I nearly killed her on the spot.” His tone was no longer vexed, completely switching on a dime to resemble one of contentment or rather boredom. 

Cassia’s head was hurting at this point.  ‘Like he was talking about the weather…what the hell is wrong with him?!…’ 

      The man continued, “But I waited. Waited. And waited, all for this opportunity.” His eyes trailed up from her feet to meet her eyes, piercing gaze refusing to break as he grew closer.

   The scientist felt like she was suffocating, like she was losing the right to her own body, her very own breath as Bloom casted a shadow over her form. 

     The ginger haired woman backed up until her ass hit the desk housing some monitors while the psychotic doctor closed in on her. She was cornered as he reached for her chin, her strength nothing against his own as he finally made it to his goal.

    His fingers gripped it fiercely, his other hand hanging by his pocket loosely. 

     He got so close to her face that his nose nearly touched hers. Embarrassingly, a whimper leaked out as she closed her eyes tight. 

“Your face, ah…you have his eyes….” 

    The hand disappeared from her chin only to grip her hair. and use it to slam her head against the wall, Cassia yelling out as it met pure cement. 

    The frame of her glasses pressed into her temple, the area pulsing while she ignored the pressure along her skull.

    Looking back at it, she felt humiliated as she had sobbed and cried, reduced to a pitiful lump of meat who begged her tormentor for a break, relief, for him to just stop. Her hands clutched onto his arm while the doctor’s hot breath raced in her ear. 

    “OPEN your eyes, Miss Yul. OPEN. THEM.” He commanded her and in fear of what would happen, she did. Only to see his face morph into palatable disappointment.

      Despite the situation, her mind grasped into this and grew confused along with the fluctuating emotions. But she had no time to ponder as he forced her to off the table and to come to the window, slamming her body against it to stare at Kelsey. 

     Makeup coursed down her face while thick snot dribbled past her lip, bubbles forming in her nose as she coughed on her own spit. She was far from the vixen many men and women found themselves drawn to, her usual neat and tantalizing form a complete mess in her chase for survival. 

That could have been her. 

“I took pity on you, and understood it was merely a fool’s mistake.” He hissed and she sobbed. 

      Z-13 was a nightmare, ignoring the lame, cold meat in favor of a warm sack of flesh. It shambled forward, clumsy on its snake tail as if trying to walk, crashing to the floor and into walls as it launched itself over and over in an attempt to nab the lady. 

“I understood, Cassia.”

That could have been her. 

“That whore below wanted you to die in her place, begged me to put you in so she could live another day.”

She felt sick. 

     Backed into a corner, Kelsey nearly crumbled to her knees as Z-13 grew closer and closer. Crazed, her arms shot in the air, reaching to the window as she begged for her life one last time. 

     “DOCTOR?!” A once honeyed voice was hoarse from the strain of her screams. Her body was stained in blood both red and purple as cuts all over leaked profusely. Her red rectangular glasses were nowhere in sight while her previous perfect maroon bun laid all around her shoulders.  

“DOCTOR BLOOM IF YOU CAN HEAR ME—IF YOURE THERE?!? IT WONT HAPPEN AGAIN, IT WONT I SWEAR IT WONT!! IT WAS A MISTAKE—-OH GOD—“

      A roar was heard and the man above Cassia groaned in her ear in what could only be unadulterated pleasure. Her shoulders quaked as she sobbed, pinned to the window. But, her torment ended abruptly, the man stepping away. 

She couldn’t bring herself to move even if she had wanted to, frozen against the window. 

    Kelsey’s high pitched pleas were cut off by her own strangled yell as Z-13 launched itself at her with a roar. She dodged again, barely escaping as its claws ripped into her shoulder, sending blood splattering on the wall as she threw herself off to the side to avoid its blue mass. 

     The mutated man growled, clearly done with the game they were playing as its stomach voiced its complaints. 

     Wounds that had nearly closed reopened, the slit on its tail clearly aggravated by the intense movements all about.  It was tired, exhuasted in its chase yet it remained stubborn, pursuing its meal. The woman nearly slipped again as she panted, her exhaustion becoming evident as the chase wore her down.  

      The thought that they would die and be fed to Z-13 crossed her mind. The memory of Z-13’s dead gaze as he stared at the one way mirror was still stuck with her, and honestly Cassia thought it fitting. 

To die at your creations hand. 

Funny. 

She must have gotten stuck in his head at some point. All she knew was that her last moments might have been in that observation room, the unmistakable sight of Bloom’s form and black revolver gleaming in the light. 

Just then, the sound of someone knocking was heard, followed by the sliding of a keycard. The previously locked door beeped and slid open, to reveal the curvy figure of Miss Jones. 

She was a dark woman with a buzz cut, her face never showing any other emotion besides boredom. She walked up to Dr. Bloom, completely ignoring the occupants' disheveled stated and the screaming from the speaker. 

She barely gave Cassia a glance before she offered the crazed man a stack of folders. 

“Pardon my intrusion sir, however team three has requested you personally look at a possible strain for Z-13. They’re looking for your immediate approval so we can schedule the procedure within 24 hours.” 

Cassia blandly watched the conversation, watching the doctor breathe in and out to compose himself, pushing his hair back and fixing his lab coat as if to hide his shame. The man then reached to take the folders, flicking through them just to close them. 

“I see. Ah, the list never stops growing. Jones, tell them I’ll be there shortly. And fetch me some coffee to have it ready upon arrival.” She nodded and just like the ghost she was, disappeared without a trace. 

The man walked over to the control center and pressed the button for the connected intercom. 

“Kelsey,”

Her head snapped up, the speaker carrying over a wet gasp. 

“the door.” 

The sound of the rig opening was heard, as the dogs rolled and pulled apart. Z-13 was too tired to pursue, tail causing it to fall in its chase to capture her. It’s limb caused its own failure, the creature slamming to the floor as Kelsey made it through, with the door swiftly shutting behind her.

 Left alone in the cell, Z-13 chittered with his lure fizzing out. It dragged itself over to the fallen meat and ate everything, glasses and golden ring included. 

Cassia had fallen to her knees, staring at the mutation’s form in silence. All until an ugly sob broke through, ripping out of her throat as she began to cry. 

She had spent maybe an hour or two in there before she finally found the will to move, gathering herself to stand as tall as she could. She left then, fleeing from the room and leaving Z-13 alone. 

Which lead to now, her twitchy fingers scouring for that goddamn Manila folder she couldn’t seem to—AH!

Her hands gripped the tan folder and dragged it out of the compact slot, quickly flipping through to check its contents before her head snapped to check the time. Cassia scrambled for her things before turning to run up the stairs and out the pressurized door. 

On the way to lab five, she met little interruptions, the scientists she did meet were too tired and irritated to even attempt politeness as they shuffled to their destinations. Seeing as her office was located only minutes from the labs in R&D, it didn’t take her long to make it to the rig holding lab four and five. 

The echoing sound of the door depressurizing scratched at her ears, the dogs rolling to unlock the heavy metal and allow it to pull apart. 

Her eyebrows were stuck together, apprehension written all over her face as she quietly walked through, the doors shutting after her figure to close her off from the rest of the building. 

She was a fool. Still being here. A complete fucking idiot. She sighed, clutching the folder to her chest as she walked down the hall. Cassia has been so sure of herself working here, believing her research and experience re had been helping people on the outside. People like her sister who struggled to create a family of her own.  But Z-13…it…he showed what was being sacrificed in order to make progress. 

His rampage came back to her mind and she shook her head with narrowed eyes, readjusting her glasses as she kept walking. 

Gills to breathe underwater? What type of fucking joke was that? They turned a man, no, a kid into a monster all for gills. And still, they weren’t done. There was so much more to be done, more than was even planned now due to Bloom’s crazed ideas. 

The document in her arms weighed her down with every step she took as guilt festered inside of her.

 As she grew closer to the door she would seal his fate for the bullshit coming, lock him in a torturous cycle for god knows how long as the company squeezed everything they could out of him. She slowly came to a stop, the door to lab five seemingly towering over her, an omen to what was next. 

She could turn around. Maybe she could tell Bloom the folder had been destroyed in transit, some cool spilling water onto it or a printer causing it to get stuck or maybe a leak from the pipes causing her computer to die and lose all the data???? Maybe….maybe that could work. 

But her common sense soon caught up to her. She was trapped. None of those excuses would work. The thought of Kelsey came to mind and Cassia bit her bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from coming. 

She’d be killed if she went against him. Bloom wasn’t stupid despite how much she wished he was. Nothing escaped his view. 

Nothing. 

So with that, Cassia took the last steps needed to reach lab five’s door. She inserted her keycard and the door beeped and shuttered open. 

She was met with idle chatter that lulled on her entry.  The few scientists there stared at her with barely concealed shock before they slowly returned to their conversations. 

However she knew from the stolen glances that she was now the topic of discussion. Something she should have expected considering the…drama from the last few weeks. 

Some scientists busied prepping the examination room while others made sure the experiment bay was primed and ready. Feeling lost, she stood there. 

“Hello, Miss Yul.” Hearing the monotone voice, Cassia whirled around in order to greet Jones with a shaky smile. She did not return it.

“Hello, Miss Jones! I’m sorry for my tardiness. I had trouble finding the folder for this experiment.” 

She stammered out and instantly felt embarrassed when the black woman’s facial expression did not change, her gaze hard as she took in Cassia’s appearance. 

Without a word, the woman reached a hand out and quietly, the red haired woman handed it over. She flipped through the folder before snapping it shut, lifting her head back up to meet her gaze. 

“You will be responsible for Z-13’s internal examination. We need more information about the creature’s condition and if it’s grown more stable since it’s initial forming.” 

Her mouth was dry. She swallowed before responding. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Jones pointed over to the table, particularly where Cassia’s tools laid. Her eyes landed on the transducer and the guilt from before began to consume her. She tried to nod smoothly but knew she failed when Jones sighed before turning around. 

Without a word she walked over to station and began to prepare, taking out disinfecting wipes and resorting back to her OB-Gyn nurse days. 

Z-13’s case file is well known to the team, a young engineer placed on death row but cut a deal by a devil in disguise, recruited for Urbanshade to work as L-RP before being volunteered for the Pressure project. 

A pretty cut and dry case that was actually common for a lot of employees in the lower tiers.

You didn’t have to pay dead people and none of them could complain when the company provided them with everything they needed: a place to sleep, eat, shit and socialize. Cassia scrubbed the counter harder. 

Her mind went back to the issue at hand. Z-13…Sebastian Solace had been a man for twenty years of his life.

 Yet he was to receive an ultrasound to make sure his newly acquired womb was in good standing to make it a surrogate for god knows what animal while getting more injections to further push him away from his humanity, deforming him into a creature of the deep that if anyone from his previous life found him, he’d be unrecognizable.

 And this had happened in less than 6 months. 

Obvious ethics and morality issues aside, Cassia knew they’d have to suicide proof the creature’s cell in the near future. 

Her eyes fell to half-mast as she became lost in thought, her mind spiraling. She continued to prep her station, cleaning as much as time allowed her to. At some point when she finished prepping the examination table, the door announced a new arrival with its song, the metal sliding open to reveal Doctor Bloom’s figure. 

Hands clasped behind his back, he strides into the lab with the arrogance of the greatest king, his subjects ceasing their incessant chatter immediately. Like soldiers, they fell into position, facing the overseer as he inspected every area in the room. 

No one moved. She doesn’t think anyone dared to breathe. Bloom took his time inspecting their work, tilting his way this way and that as his eyes picked everything apart. 

When he walked in front of her station, his loafers came to a stop next to her. Cassia felt his heavy gaze land on her, felt it drill a hole in her temple to pierce her brain as her eyes stared at the pristine white wall. 

She waited. And waited. Until—

A clap startled her, causing her to jump as she whipped to look at Bloom. 

The man, hands hung in the air pressing against each other, gave her and everyone in the room a predatory smile, teeth shining in the artificial light. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

~*~

Seeing Z-13 up close was terrifying. 

When it had been wheeled in by the grunts, everyone had taken in the sight of their newly evolved experiment. In the cell, Z-13 had been kept in darkness and was only allowed “visits” by whoever had access rights. Usually it was Bloom, Jones or whoever was assigned to observe. 

This was the first time many scientists in the room had seen it after the last experiment, and Z-13 had undergone many changes. 

It’s skin was a lagoon blue, murky in its coloring while grey splotches in varying shades marked its body. Dry scales decorated its body, here and there as pieces seemed to crumble right in front of her from scientists touch. She watched someone pluck three from the snake like creature, the area becoming irritated. The scutes on its underbelly traveled up to his midsection, implying Z-13’s ability to move almost completely on its stomach once it got used to its tail. 

It’s new eye seemed healthy, someone taking liberty to shine a light into its vision. Someone noted possibly impaired vision, marking down cloudiness to the eye. Others measured the newly developed lures, the main one on its head and the others that had sprouted along its body like whiskers. 

It was when they started measuring the teeth that Cassia swallowed back her spit, anxiety festering in her gut as the sight of people messing with such deadly appendages. 

Kelsey invaded her mind and Cassia shivered. 

The first row of fangs were long and sharp enough to rip you to shreds, a mere touch ripping through a careless scientist’s glove and causing them to bleed like they got a paper cut. Behind that row were lines of serrated teeth, solid in their build and ready to crush bones to dust. 

Jesus. 

The scientists moved and chattered to each other like working ants, relaying information to each other as they pressed forward. At some point she tuned out, wishing she could squirm away in her office and just lay there and cry. 

She was staring at one of Z-13’s fangs when a twitch caught her attention. She blinked. Then blinked again. Thinking she was going crazy, she stared at the being’s face when a faint spark in its lure became apparent. 

It was waking up. 

Just then, Jones, responsible for monitoring vitals, called out in the room, her voice crystal clear as she announced, 

“Z-13 is becoming conscious.” At that, the fingers in its mouth withdrew quickly, someone cursing as the mutation slowly closed its jaw before it fell back open, a gob of drool trailing out the side of its mouth. Someone rushed over with an eye mask and placed it over Z-13’s head. 

Laptop keys tapped away. Jones cleared her throat before telling them, “Reaction time is significantly dulled by sedative.” 

“Significantly? Fucking hell..” The scientist said as they got their breathing under control. Their colleague laughed while the other one cursed at them. 

The two continued their banter while Cassia sighed to herself. She watched Z-13 struggle to gets its bearing, the creature groaning and clicking as its maw opened and closed repeatedly. Her eyes flicked up to Bloom who stood proudly off to the side. His glasses shined in the fluorescent light as a smile that did not comfort her grew on his face. When Z-13 cried out, obviously disoriented in where it was, the man took that as opportunity to come closer, paying no one else attention as he leered at Z-13. 

She swallowed. 

From then on, Z-13 was subjected to an assault on its being, Bloom touching more than scientifically necessary—hell medically necessary, caressing the experiment in ways that made everyone in the room uncomfortable. 

He was electrocuted with the new stun batons that were slowly being administered to their team, all while dealing with a perverted British man who couldn’t fathom personal space. 

When it came time for her part, she felt her body grow numb. Mechanically she lubed up the speculum, the room quiet as they all watched her do so. Turning around, she reached over with her fingers to part its slit. He begged for her to stop. She didn’t. 

His screams brought tears to her eyes but one look at the revolver in Bloom’s pocket and his yelling forced her to keep going, to force his canals open so that she could take her needed samples. All the while the heart monitor rang in everyone’s ears, alerting them of the patient’s condition. 

She continued working. 

This torture eventually passed, Cassia removing the devices as she announced the sample retrieval. Z-13 gagged something sickening before it turned to Bloom’s direction and hurled. 

Gasping and cursing, the scientists closest to him jumped back, not wanting to get splashed with the acidic wave of yellow and green. The act left Z-13 a pitiful sobbing form on the metal table, its slit an irritated purple as it coughed up leftover acid, quivering harshly in the room temperature lab. 

Bloom didn’t react, his expression the same bland look as he continued to caress Z-13. 

“Good. I’ll be leaving to go clean up this…mess Z-13 lovingly gave me. I’ll return shortly.”

He left. The heart monitor continued to beep urgently. A wet sobbed was ripped from his chest and Cassia couldn’t stop herself from whispering an apology, despite knowing it would change nothing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He sobbed. 

The only sounds left in the room were Z-13’s hiccups and the sound of laptop keys clacking away, the acrid stench of vomit filling the room with rot. 

Her mouth twisted up in a grimace. 

She was so, so sorry. 

Chapter Text

He knew they expected him to punish Z-13, the scientists watching in silent anticipation to see his next move while Z-13 heaved and coughed on the table. The creature’s vomit a stain on his pristine figure, his eyebrows hiked in shock as he regarded the mess. 

      To others around him, he held the sight before him in disdain. He could almost hear the heartbeat of Z-13, who laid in a weak puddle as it sobbed against the turmoil it felt. A bubbling intrigue and fascination arose. 

      Various emotions crossed his face before he caught himself, readjusting his unsullied coat as he rolled back his shoulders. He’d have to clean up immediately before the experiment could proceed. 

         When Cassia announced her retrieval of the tissue, that was when Bloom found it acceptable to leave. He announced his departure in a bland tone with a nod to his colleagues. Some morons gasped, shocked he was leaving without inflicting any punishment. He made a mental note to remember their faces as he made it to the door. 

      Bloom swiped his keycard, and when the door opened, he stepped outside. For a moment, he stood silently, hands clasped behind his back as he reflected on what had occurred.

         Travis then began to walk. Measured steps led him down the hallway, his lab coat flowing with his movements.

         The fluorescent lights shone harshly, casting shadows over his figure as he traveled to the bathroom. He came upon the hall housing the toilets and sinks, then walked to stand in front of the mirror.

        His face greeted him in the reflection, and with a sigh, he reached down to wash the gunk off his hands, the speckled acid flowing down the drain as soap bubbles chased it away.

      The handles squeaked as he turned off the water, a gentle drip hitting the sink as the flow stopped

        Long fingers grasped his frames to take them off his face, while another hand reached up to smooth his hair. His nose whistled as he sighed.

         He was alone; his gentle breaths were the only thing he could hear beyond the buzzing of the lights. His mind strayed back to Z-13, and his hands tightened along the sink’s edge. His eyes moved from his reflection to his pants. Seeing the state of his jeans, Travis’s lip quivered with a faint smile. 

         Alone with his thoughts, he reached to the side and grabbed brown tissue from the dispenser. He plucked out enough to clean up the mess on his jeans. Running the tissue under tap water, he brought the tissue up but paused to stare at the nearly dry bile. A strange warmth swelled within him. 

     He was mesmerized at the sight. He could imagine the chaotic, desperate dance of enzymes and acids. The molecules racing in a feverish play as the body expelled what it could no longer tolerate. His hand hovered over the mess, darkened brown tissue dripping with water. An impulse urged him to clean it, to remove the blight for what it was. 

     Yet, he lingered. These once vibrant hues, dull from oxidation, marked him with the subjects’ moment of fragility, a moment Z-13 shared with him in its usual chaotic manner. An acidic gift Z-13 had bestowed on him that pained Travis to part with. The thought to preserve it came to mind, this flaking decay evidence of their bond and what they had been through together. 

     No, he thought to himself, mouth tightening as his mind caught up with him. Preserving this, as dry as it was, would be futile. Nevermind the walk to his office and back, his colleagues would ask questions that he just could not allow.

     Resigned, he finally descended on the blemish, the now damp tissue barely wiping away the remnants. His fingers trembled slightly, each stroke a reluctant farewell. He tossed that paper and grabbed some more. The texture was wet and slimy, the liquid refusing to part from him.

   His heart clenched along with his fist, pausing for but a second before he continued. 

“This is just..a piece of a whole…” He muttered to himself, the swiping motion almost a caress as he tried to preserve the connection he felt, its unsightly form comforting to him. Yes.

     This was only a piece to a cherished being, one who all would soon see its greatness. Z-13 would suffer for the greater good, pushing him to the top as together they revolutionized humanity to greater heights.

Together. 

   Once his jeans were clean, the man dumped the tissue in the garbage with a resolute sigh, regrettably washing his hands before he deemed himself presentable. Despite his sadness, he found himself infused with purpose after being reminded of the future, loafers powerful in their stride as he made his way back to Lab Five.  

    In only minutes, the British man returned, swiping his keycard and entering once he was able. Inside he was met with the sight of Z-13 in the experiment bay, a one-way window allowing him to see the subject’s form splayed out on the floor.

    Jones, Yul and other researchers stood at the window, each of them studying the breathing form who seemed weak.  

     Upon his entry, they all turned and acknowledged his presence, some pitiful with their barely disguised fear. With one eyebrow raised, he strode forward. “Was a sedative administered or is this the residual?” He came to a stop in between Jones and Yul, the black women on his left while the redhead was on his right. 

      Jones held a voice recorder in one hand while Yul held a clipboard and pen. The dark eyed woman didn’t look at him, keeping her full sight on Z-13. It’s lure gently fizzed on, while its tail unfurled only to coil back up. 

“A very light sedative was given for transport. I also gave some IV fluids due to signs of dehydration.” 

     Another scientist piped up just then, clearing his throat as he approached. “Ahem—sir. We noticed high levels of inflammation and even some tearing in the esophagus.” 

“We believe the constant emesis is to blame. An administration of PPIs and mucosal protectants would do it well.” Once he was done Bloom nodded, already expecting this outcome from the countless expulsions coming from Z-13. While uncommon, it wasn’t totally rare for subjects to puke when under distress. 

     His eyes trailed over the creature’s form, noting the visible rib cage along with its increasingly gaunt form. 

      He clicked his teeth, brows and nose creasing. Like this, Z-13 would be killed in an instant by C-17. It would only take a smack from the behemoth’s fin to shatter its bones before it succumbed to its wounds. 

So, multiple issues to address. Hm. 

      “Sir?” The scientist meekly called and Bloom remembered the crowd around him, eagerly waiting for his response. 

     Ah. He lightly cleared his throat and rolled back his shoulders. 

       “See to it that those medications are administered after the experiment procedure,” The man nodded and scratched against his clipboard, “I'll be in touch with the medical team regarding its treatment.” He eyed Jones in that department, satisfied when the woman nodded without question. His eyes flicked back to Z-13, the thing laying on its side and drooling from the sedative. He could not hear anything. 

        “Right now, we have more pressing matters.” He started, finally taking his gaze away from the creature to address his subordinates. “Some of you know, others do not. In wake of Z-13’s developed womb, I’ve been in close contact with Mr. Shade on what to do moving forward.” His voice rang clear in the room, electronic beeps making up other background as everyone stopped what they were doing. 

     “It’s been decided that once Z-13 gains gills, it will be the source for a new species, one to work alongside the military and Urbanshade for various missions.” His eyes swept across every single person, lingering on Miss Yul who sought the floor’s attention. 

     He continued. “C-17 will be transported here in one week. That gives us less than four days to prepare Z-13 once the observation period is over. After this experiment, you all will be delegated to your new roles in wake of C-17’s arrival. 

      Someone raised their hand. He nodded towards them. She pulled her hand back down and asked, “If I may sir, you sound confident that this will be the trial that develops gills in Z-13. Why is that?” 

      A valid question. But one found in constrained ignorance just then, the huge door on the experiment bay opened the loud decompressing making way for a forklift to come through. 

      On it was a tank, the blue-green liquid sloshing along the sides as the machine carried it in. Z-13 tensed, obviously scared with its sight impaired and mobility reduced. The forklift dropped the tank to the side of the animal, a BANG! sounding out as the glass was set down.  

      “It’s simple. Our life calling as scientists is to learn from our mistakes.” He turned around and looked at Z-13, gaze nearly gleaming in the light as he bared down on it. “The previous experiments had no urgency to them, no scenario for the body to…”target” the correct genome to develop. So, we simply created a DNA strand that would allow for that process to happen under the optimal circumstances.” 

     The forklift backed up until the vehicle was behind Z-13, positioned to scoop it up quickly. In the driver seat was a scientist covered in a hazmat suit, who reached down and brought up a black briefcase. 

     Inside the observation room, the scientists mumbled to themselves, confused on where this could be going. At least until one person visibly caught up, their face flickering between astonishment, fear, and confusion as they realized his plan. 

“You’ll drop Z-13 into the tank after it’s been injected?!”

Commotion began. 

“But sir if it doesn’t develop gills, it will drown—“

     “Yes, that is what happens when one inhales water.” He droned on. His glasses began to slip and he pushed them back. “The operative word is ‘if’.” 

     He walked over to the control panel, hand hovering as he looked for a specific one. Eventually he found it, pressing it and turning on the overhead system. 

       “You can inject with both vials.”  His voice echoed in the chamber. Z-13 lazily rolled onto its back, groaning as it tried to say something. The person behind the window nodded before moving forward. 

“This time we will not fail. Not under my watch.”

     It was silent, people taken aback by his finality, completely lost on what they could say to the doctor. The scientist in the experiment bay nodded and hopped out the forklift. 

       In a few steps he made it to Z-13, who sluggishly tried to get away. He kneeled down and placed the suitcase down with a thud, clicking the locks open to lift the lid.  

     Over the speaker, a slurred “noooo…” edged out, the murky tail weakly slapping into the man who cursed and pinned the appendage to the floor with his knee. 

      The scientist gripped Z-13 by the base of its hair, keeping its head still as he dragged the case closer.   First, a syringe with glittering blue, green and silver globs was brought up. 

       It was like the content of a lava lamp—flowing just as slowly. Immediately, scientist angled the needle down and pierced the sea man’s neck, injecting the content under seconds before it was taken out. 

    The subject yelped, trying to get away again but failing due to the sedative. The effect was immediate. Heaving out of nowhere, Z-13 struggled to breathe as the contents worked through its body. Its chest seemingly rattled while it wheezed, desperately trying to gather oxygen as the scientist rummaged around the briefcase. 

        Next, they brought out another vial, this one a murky blue speckled with white like stars in the night. The vial was bigger, much bigger than the others it had received. The size of it sent the spectators into a frenzy.  The scientists scrambled in their notes, confused at the syringe’s size. 

“10 milliliters? Sir, when did this happen—?!“

“Shush! Don’t question Dr. Bloom, this must be on purpose—!“

     Hearing their squabbles, Bloom felt annoyance strike, coiling in his gut and nearly causing his expression to falter. Irritated, he whipped a hand up and they quieted down, sending the room into a deep hush. No one dared whisper a word. 

     On the other side, the scientist began to struggle as the sedative wore off, Z-13’s tail gaining strength as the creature growled with what little air it had.

     Knowing his time was running out, the man gave up his precision in exchange for accuracy, stabbing Z-13 in the neck. He only stayed long enough to push the liquid into the mutant before he was scrambling back to the forklift. 

      Once seated, he reached to pull the lever, driving the vehicle forward with a screech. Z-13 who gargled and seized on the floor was scooped up quickly before being carried over to the tank, where it was dumped inside the water without a care. 

      The water in typical fashion, swallowed it with no remorse.  The subject writhed and seized, the water enveloping Z-13 in a deadly embrace, pushing through its body to rush through airways and take up any space it possibly could.  Further and further, a restrained Z-13 sank to the bottom of the tank. 

      The lure flashed over and over in distress while bubble clouds burst from Z-13’s maw. It’s hair, clumped from neglect, floated in chunks as it sank further from the surface. Bioluminescence danced over gray scales, a violent choreography that only Z-13’s body knew. 

      And there, witness to it all was Doctor Bloom, who stood amazed at the sight before him.  His gaze wide as eyes sparkled at the torment before him. There Z-13 writhed and turned, chest bowing as it tried and failed to breathe underwater. 

      Its desperate fight for air led to it smacking its head into the side of the tank, the hit disorienting it for barely moments before instinct drove for it to wiggle its way back up.

        If it had not been sedated, maybe Z-13’s propulsion would have allowed it a gulp of air. But, the thing simply moved an inch before it sank once more, bottom hitting the tank’s floor over and over again. 

     “Sir…” Jones spoke up, face stoic as usual but her tone filled with apprehension as she watched on. 

“If Z-13 doesn’t make it, surely Mr. Shade will…disband us?”

Bloom did not offer a response. 

She already knew what would become of her. Of all of them.  

     The scientists behind him nervously scratched on their notepads, some breaking out in worried murmurs as they watched Z-13 fight for its life. Its body struggled anew, a final despairing battle to breathe along with the newly injected DNA forcing the mutant to convulse violently. 

     On the flat screen above, Z-13’s body glowed a violent red while its vitals became dangerously low. A noise sounded in the background, machines blaring in alarm while automated voices began to call out. 

“HEART RATE: HIGH. HEART RATE: HIGH—“

“OXYGEN LEVELS: LOW. OXYGEN LEVELS: LOW—“

      Next to him, Jones nervously glanced his way while the others could no longer hold back their worries. 

“Sir?! It’s vitals—we need to stop the experiment!”

The fools. His teeth worried at his lip. There was no progress without risk. 

They’d soon see. 

The heart monitor blared in the background. 

They had to. 

      Seeing Z-13 lose energy with no sight of gills, the first seed of doubt took root. Bloom’s palms grew sweaty and he readjusted the clasped hands. 

Z-13 would not fail. 

He. Would. Not. 

       The vital and anatomical screens beeped. Looking up, Bloom’s eyes seemed like a madman’s as he noted red circles appearing on the sides of its neck and ribs. The others scrambled to look as well. When they too saw it, some cursed in shock while others became frozen. 

      No one said anything as the heart monitor remained constant, a long beep piercing their ears as Z-13’s heart stilled. No one moved a muscle as they waited. And waited. And waited. When just as the clock on the wall moved a minute forward, the oxygen meter began to rise. 

A woman began to sob while others cheered. They had done it! Bloom’s lips tugged in a manic grin. 

Project: Pressure was now a success. 

       His eyes caught sight of Z-13’s side bubbling, the skin struggling to contain the movement within until a burst of purple infected the water. The liquid quickly became tainted with a faint purple, growing darker and darker as the transformations ensued. 

      Slowly yet somehow in the blink of an eye, Z-13 began to grow. Its expanding form pushing the dark water out and out until only itself was left in the water. A weak cry edged out of the speaker, waterlogged to high hell as the creature became crushed in its tank. 

      The glass of the tank strained, the material gaining hairline fractures that eventually cracked and cracked until it shattered completely. Glass flew as Z-13 yowled, the creature spilling out on the floor and sobbing as its upper body elongated to a skeleton-like appearance, its claws menacing in its hollow appearance.

          A new arm had grown on its side, covered in viscera. The thing was abnormally small compared to its other arms as it curled up in T-Rex position. Its chest hiccuped desperately, a retching sound coming as it coughed up the bloody water. 

     It gasped for air, seemingly struggling to breathe. For a moment Bloom felt panic settle in. They couldn’t lose it, not when they had just achieved what they struggled to get for months

       Dark tendrils grew to cascade down its shoulders, dark curls lightly brushing its dorsal fin to lay in knotted bunches. Teeth that were once contained in its maw began to peek out even more, its body beaming with light as the stress from the transformation pushed it to its limits. 

      A beeping sound came from the monitors, Jones yelling over the chaos in the observation room about vitals but she was far away from Bloom at that moment.   

He didn’t dare blink. 

     Z-13 had grown too large for its restraints, the eye mask stretching and snapping along with its arm restraints. Beautifully bloodshot cyan eyes were revealed, red, swollen, and cloudy in their sudden enlargement as the creature struggled to make heads or tails of what was happening. 

       Its form grew larger and larger, morphing into something nearly unworldly as it casted a shadow on them all. A wide smile took over Bloom’s face, all teeth on display as his eyes remained wide to take everything in. 

        Large, larger than what they could have expected, Z-13 had grown to take up nearly half of the room’s space, with its tail taking up the majority. 

       Heaving breaths were heard of the speaker as another arm tried to break through. A growl was heard before the squelching sound of skin tearing came though, a hoarse yell that ended in a sob being heard as gills began to line its ribcage. 

      Ah he couldn’t help it. He had to do it. 

      Rushing to the door that led to the active experiment area, Bloom's heart raced, each step fueled by a mix of anticipation and something darker. He barely registered the frantic shouts around him, his keycard slipping from his fingers as he nearly tripped over his own urgency. The door swung open with a loud clang, and his coat flared out behind him, a banner of triumph.

And then he saw Z-13.

       The sight sent a thrill through him—bloody, grotesque, and impossibly large. There lay Sebastian, heaving on the floor, struggling for breath as his cavernous lungs fought against the new reality of existence. 

      Each gasping intake was a struggle, gills flaring and collapsing in a rhythm of desperate anguish that thrilled Bloom in ways he couldn’t deny.

      Sebastian’s body convulsed, not just from the effort but from a deeper, primal agony that moved  Bloom’s heart with twisted satisfaction. A sob broke free from Sebastian’s lips, raw and unfiltered, his eyes nearly swollen shut, yet they shimmered with a mix of fear and despair. To Bloom, it was a masterpiece—a testament to his brilliance, a creation that bore the scars of his ambition.

       He stepped closer, feeling a rush of power as he reached out, caressing Z-13’s snout with an expression of almost gleeful reverence. “You’ve done well, Sebastian,” he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension disguised as affection.

       Sebastian's response was a pitiful, choked cry, a sound that sent a thrill coursing through Travis. It was everything he had hoped for—a beautiful manifestation of suffering, a testament to the cost of progress. 

      As he cradled the creature’s face, Bloom reveled in the dichotomy of creation and torment. There was more to be done, and he couldn’t wait to see how much more Sebastian could endure.

Ah, for Urbanshade of course. 

Chapter Text

    When he chose to major in engineering, his mama had been confused but proud by his choice. He knew she’d be proud of him. Her little boy was going to college, of course she’d be proud. But his choice needed an explanation. They were in the kitchen, the faucet dripping with water as his mother made his way over to their rickety dining table. 

    Sitting down at the circular dining table, Sebastian found himself staring at her. She had changed from when he was younger. Of course she did. Her youth had faded while her continued joy carved gentle lines in her face as if she was marble, crows feet and smile line evidence of her happiness.

     Stress over the years had creased her forehead as her hands, rough from constant labor clutched the kitchen towel. Her skin was tanned, darker from her years in the sun with moles decorating her face. Her dark curls streaked with gray were kept in a low bun while stray curls framed her face.  

     With the setting sun gently casting over her, Sebastian committed her to his memory. “Au, Sebastían please.  Help your old mother out.”  She giggled to herself, smile lines coming to life as she lightly threw her head back. Gathering herself, she leaned forward, the kitchen towel in her hand as she played around with the strings. 

“What is it? This engineering. I’m not too good with this kind of stuff.” She trailed off, curiosity making her aged eyes sparkle. 

      Leaning into his chair, Sebastian sniffed, nose quickly wrinkling as he thought on how to explain it. “Engineering..it’s like bringing ideas to life mama. Like, remember the skyscraper in downtown?“ His accent sounded foreign to his ears. He brushed it off and continued asking her. She took a moment to think before nodding. They had driven downtown, suffering in the godforsaken Miami traffic. When they made it, his mama had been amazed at the enormous buildings. 

        Apartments reached for the clouds as palm trees and gardens grew  on their roofs. Others had pools that never seemed to end while some displayed architecture that seemed impossible to exist. The glittering windows beamed down below to every pedestrian, including him and his mother who had rushed to take photo after photo. 

       When they had made it back to the car, she’d expressed the differences from Chile. It was just as crowded but everything had just looked different, felt different. “Yes! Ah my phone—“ She looked around for it. She pushed her chair back and rose to get it. 

     The reminder of their shared adventure sent her into an excited ramble, recalling the food they’d eaten and the such as she looked around the kitchen. Her steps sounded wet as she walked through the puddle that dripped from the kitchen sink. Sebastian paid it no mind, calm as the kitchen slowly flooded. 

     Finding her phone, his mother made her back. The pants she wore was drenched around the ankles as she sat in the seat, also paying the flood no mind as the water rose around them. Scrolling through, she eventually found a photo of the skyscraper and showed it to her son. Sebastian nodded, excited as he pointed as different parts of the picture. 

“Okay so this—this uh is better for someone in architecture but in engineering I would work with these people to make sure the building’s design can exist safely in reality. The curves and the way the building seems to just float over the street—my job makes that happen.” He explained it, the water around them now ebbing over the table. In awe, she gazed at the photo and her son with new found understanding, pride swelling in her eyes as she reached to cup his face. Her hand was a stark contrast against the water. A warm comfort distracting from the biting cold. 

“That’s wonderful Tatán! Au, you, your brother and sister—you all have made me so proud.” She murmured, her smile so soft yet bright his heart swelled with glee. His cheeks felt hot, embarrassed but happy under her praise.  He looked down at the table, barely able to make out his hands under the rising levels. It was at his collarbones now. 

“Mama—” he started but his mother merely kissed her teeth, shaking her head in jest as she leveled him with a stern look. 

“—tch, don't mama me! Let me be proud of my son.” She argued and how could he stop her? He soaked in her happiness with a smile of his own present. Watching ten waters rise so close to his face, instead of expected panic he only felt at peace watching it crest up and up until eventually he and his mother were under water. But again, he didn’t feel panicked. He didn’t feel scared. He felt warm, cared for. Loved.

He blinked and found himself no longer in his kitchen.

Gone was the sun to be replaced with a green glow that gently searched the room. 

Sebastian could see parts of their kitchen was no longer; dark seaweed stretching up the sky while a blurry form of a mine drifted innocently in the currents. 

“Tatán, you need to look after yourself more though!” Hearing her worry, Sebastian couldn’t help but brush her off. He knew it was coming, the well meaning nagging that she always did when he was home. He shook his head, dismissing her with a, “it’s college mama there’s only so much time I have for, well me.”

       “But pup, you look pale, sickly even, no?” At first he didn’t realize what it was that made the warmth disappear.  The small grin on his lips slowly disappeared as his brain focused on one particular word. Her voice sounded far away as the distant sound of children laughing became apparent. Looking at his mother, she looked the same as she did, ranting about his health and whatever other woes she had. But…Sebastian couldn’t help but be wary of her. 

      Despite years of living in the United States, years of being surrounded by Americans and just English speakers alike, his mother had learned the language. She had rebelled in this aspect, vowing to protect her mother tongue from the new one as if it would be erased with a single whisper of English.   

     As he had grown, her vows had weakened, less strict and even occasionally teasing Sebastian with a heavily accented “good morning!” Yet, she had never slid an English word into a sentence like how she did just now. Especially one so random. 

Pup. 

His mother had never called him that. Pup. 

Sebastian couldn’t help but watch, no, stare at her as she regarded him—cold, unblinking. 

“Pup?… Mama, where did you learn that word?”

        Her face twitched, a jagged, unnatural motion, like she’d been caught in something she shouldn’t have. His heart burned, a deep, gut-wrenching ache, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

      Before he could blink, he was standing, his chair drifting away as he remained frozen in place on the kitchen floor. The water around him thickened, the shadows of the room deepening into something malevolent, pulling the warmth from the space. Dishes, utensils, and the very air itself seemed to ripple as they passed by in slow motion. His eyes fixed on her, unable to tear away from the twisted, wrongness in the air. 

       Her face contorted, shifting into something new, something he couldn't place, as she slowly rose to her feet. It was like watching a creature not meant for this world, testing its own movements, each twitch and shift calculated, wrong. Her tongue pushed against her cheek, as if trying to understand its own form. A soft, buzzing hum began to fill his ears, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. 

    His head felt heavy—like a thousand thoughts pressing on him at once—yet strangely light, as though it might float away. The sensation was disorienting, dizzying, pulling him deeper into the unnerving reality unfolding around him. His legs swayed as he tried to steady himself, but his vision blurred, his eyelids fighting to stay open. And then, she opened her mouth.

Teeth. Jagged, serrated, impossibly sharp—filling the space where her lips had once been. He blinked, and she did not.

“Ah… no, I misspoke. Tahtian—”

His eyes narrowed, heart plummeting. The mangled version of his childhood nickname sent a cold shock through his veins, twisting his stomach in knots. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, and instinctively, he took a step back, his body trembling as his wide eyes locked onto her. 

“You’re not her,” he whispered, the words barely leaving his lips, but he knew. He knew.

The warmth of his mother’s face was gone, replaced by something smooth and empty, a mask holding her features, but not her soul. Her eyes—once full of care, of understanding—were now flat, distant, cold. She tilted her head, the motion unnatural, before sniffing the air sharply, her nostrils flaring. 

“And you’re human… not kin.” Her voice was different now—wrong, distorted, but sharp. 

         A faint green glow bled from her eyes, illuminating her face with an eerie light that made his heart hammer in his chest. His breath caught in his throat. The distant, maddening cackles of children echoed, their laughter a grotesque mockery of joy as his pulse quickened, the air pressing in on him, suffocating. 

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. And still, she did not move. Black squids, void in their appearance, materialized right before his eyes. One by one, they appeared to crowd behind the mimic. Dark in their form as they giggled and squealed as his heart picked up. The buzzing before grew until it was all he could hear, akin to tv static as the edges of his vision became green. 

       The mimic turned to look at the intruders, face startlingly blank as she regarded them. When she turned around to look at Sebastian, her mouth was moving but he could not hear. It felt like hot coals were set in his brain, matter oozing out his ears as blood ran down his nose to dispel in the water. Seeing this, the first sign of feeling showed and oddly enough it was worry, eyebrows creasing to question. When the mimic fell toward him, clumsy as if it wasn’t used to walking, that was when Sebastian found himself screaming. 

        With a terrified yell, Sebastian roared while his tail lashed out. The shhhhhh! of scales sliding against the floor was ear grating in his struggle, metallic creaks and pops also heard as claws dug into the ground. 

      His scream pitched into a yelp when his body caught up with his brain, body aches coursing through as if he’d pulled a muscle. His bioluminescent freckles and esca sparked into existence, chasing away shadows with a vengeance and unknowingly, sending his spectators into a desperate retreat. Ghostly screams sounded in the cell and in his mind, causing him to wince again. 

“BURNS!” One screamed before it literally faded out to existence. The others did the same, their cries dying off to a whisper of death. 

      Sebastian’s hands struggled against the pain to push himself up as he forced his eyes open. His esca ebbed out until the room was shrouded in darkness once more. He ended up on his side, one arm acting as his prop as he reached up to rub his eyes. Crusted salt descended from them in a crude snowfall while chapped lips smacked in vain to remove that cotton feel. 

       His throat struggled to swallow due to lack of fluid. The little sweat his body had made in effort to cool him only served to burn hellfire into his dry skin, scales absorbing everything it could despite the cracks it sustained. His head pounded while the buzz from before still remained but weaker. 

    Wild cyan orbs searched the darkness, breaths cavernous as he searched for the intruders who dared to sob and moan at their alleged mistreatment. When clarified eyes zeroed in on the floating shadows, he felt like he’d blue screened. 

     Familiar yet entirely unwelcome, were the squid things from before. Squiddles, a voice supplied, head heavy for but a moment before it disappeared. Their unsettling faces seemed to float into one corner, their dark bodies bobbing up and down as they backed away from his body, trying to retreat into the shadows. Upon seeing this, Sebastian blew a gruff sigh, sneering at their presence while his maw curled in a frown. 

      They were farther away than he first thought. That was fine. Perfect even. He had panicked thinking they were on top of him, going to touch him like how they did before. But the longer he studied them, chest heaving as he watched them cluster together, a voice in his head whispered. 

      They looked so afraid, their attempts to intimidate falling flat, their faces a mask of aggression that barely masked their unease. Quiet murmurs drifted around him, like whispers carried on a breeze, too soft to grasp, but persistent in their presence. The thought came unbidden, almost like an afterthought. They’re like kids, the voice lingered, they just want someone. Like me.

    His head knew it was bullshit. It had to be. These things didn’t seem like experiments like him, trapped down here to rot for the rest of their lives. No, considering this wasn’t the first time they’d been in his cell and he knew how batshit that doctor was—they seemed to have freedom to go where they pleased. 

      The chances of them being lonely was little at best, microscopic at worst. If anything they were just curious about him and wanted to learn. Despite his own fear, Sebastian couldn’t help but bow into himself. A heavy feeling settled on his chest and a battle festered in his being. 

       He shouldn’t encourage it. Really, he shouldn’t. His mind flicked back to their last meeting, the sensation of cold tentacles sliding on his tail. He didn’t even know what these things were. What they ate. For all he knew they just wanted to fucking eat him. 

He ignored how that thought didn’t scare him as much as if should. 

After moments of him gathering his bearings, Sebastian made a decision he may regret in the future. 

       “Hey—“ His regret came rather quickly when he broke out into a coughing fit. His chest rattled with phlegm as his body rocked back and forth. The squiddles jumped, more afraid than before as they watched him with rapt attention. With a grimace, Sebastian tried to clear his throat, mouth pressing down as he made to speak again. A clawed hand reached out to them in an effort to calm, the squid moaning in fear. 

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s okay—I’m fine, it's fine you can—you can come back.”

      Apprehensive in their approach, the squiddles edged closer from their initial retreat. As fearful as they were, they really were like children, too curious for their own good as they drew closer and closer until they were at arms length. Under the gentle light of Sebastian’s body, he could see that there was three of them. 

“Pretty big fish—”

“—Glow bright—annoying before—“

“—-Nice now.”

      Like triplets they finished each other’s sentences, bobbing up and down in a way that seemed impossible. The mutant had barely noticed before, too exhausted and terrified to really see it. But now, he did see or rather hear that their voices seemed displaced, echoing in the room and never having a true origin. 

     Breathing out a sigh for the incoming headache that was his decision, he reached up to rub at his eye when he felt a zing of pain on his waist. A hiss flew out his mouth and his eyes flew to look down at his body. Catching sight of his frame, the subject paused as a lump burned in his throat. 

     On his torso, there were lines, lilac in color that framed his jutting ribs.  And Sebastian…he wasn’t stupid. He knew. He knew what he was looking at. And that thought alone sent him spiraling down the memories of yesterday. 

         The violation cut through him, raw and brutal, a pain that twisted and burned deep inside with no mercy. The stretch of his body, too wide, too much, followed by the sickening punch to his gut—everything inside him spasmed in response, as though his very being had been ripped apart. The air had gone, his chest collapsing in on itself as his lungs screamed for breath that wouldn't come. Panic taking root, squeezing his throat until he could barely draw a single ragged gasp. Water surged, choking him as he was flooded, drowning in the weight of his own helplessness.

       He had tried to push himself up, but the effort was futile. His body refused to cooperate, weighed down by the cruel tightness of his binds and tantalizing drugs, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, but his limbs were too slow, too heavy. Every movement felt like wading through molasses, each breath a battle as his chest burned, constricted, and then... the world went dark. 

That was when it had gotten worse. 

     His memory fragmented, slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn't remember what had happened, or if he ever truly wanted to. The emotions were distant, lost in an endless fog. Fury, agony, grief—they seemed so far away, as if someone else had felt them for him. He couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t make sense of the whirlwind inside. 

    His tongue flicked out, tasting the stale air, and he barely caught himself as it brushed against his jagged teeth.

He didn’t know what to think. 

     The urge to cry was immediate, hot, desperate—tears burning at the back of his eyes, his chest tight with the need to scream, to pound something, to feel anything at all. The pressure grew, unbearable, but just as quickly, it was suffocated by a tidal wave of numbness. A hollow emptiness poured over him, erasing every spark of anger, of pain, until there was nothing left but a cold, gray stillness. He stared at his body, not with fear, but with a strange clinical detachment, as though he were studying something unfamiliar—something alien. His new growth felt like a foreign concept, not his own, as if he were looking at someone else’s body.

This wasn’t him. 

No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. That tail wasn’t his own no matter how much it twisted around. The claws that carved deep, deep marks into the reinforced metal flooring didn’t belong to him even if he could feel the way metal parted like wet paper. 

This wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t. 

It couldn’t be…

The squiddles before him had come closer, so close that they were right in front of his face. 

“Big fish—“

“—sound funny—“

“Hahaha! So tasty—“

     One of them giggled, its face suddenly shining bright in his face. And instead of backing up in fear, Sebastian bared all of his teeth, aggravated as the light that burned his eyes. Twisted, ethereal shrieks cut through his growl and they fled with no hesitation, disappearing right before his eyes. 

       The resounding echoes of their wails had his finned ears pinned to his head, the ringing making his head dizzy as Sebastian slowly slid down to the floor. The buzzing was back, worse than before and he had the thought that he just couldn’t catch a goddamn break—

“No. It seems not.”

     His breath caught and for a split second, a stab of pain coursed through his chest, electric in its path as body struggled to pick which method to breathe. Gills flared and slammed shut as his lungs greedily inhaled. Staring at the cement wall, Sebastian’s claws loosened from his locs, as he contemplated. 

      “Who are you?” He hissed, half expecting an answer and the other…waiting. Listening. 

       His finned ears swiveled, desperately searching for any sign of someone or something else being in the cell. For a long moment, he heard nothing but the air conditioning, the distant sound of metal creaking followed by echoing waves. 

      The reply came not in words, but in a rush of emotions and a heavy feeling in his head—warmth, urgency, curiosity, and a hint of sadness that weighed him down like bricks. Yet, despite the way his body sagged under the pressure, he didn’t feel overwhelmed. He didn’t feel scared. 

     If anything he felt cocooned in someone’s arms, hidden away from all earthly woes. For a moment, he felt a connection that transcended words, as if the voice was a sort of him not yet discovered, woven into his being to cradle him gently. 

The feeling faded and feeling determined, no, desperate to have it again, to feel seen in the darkness that was his prison, his eyes closed and he focused. On what? He didn’t know, but he tried anything to find it again. 

      “You can’t just say something and disappear without introducing yourself! Hello? Hello?!”, the world faded around him unbeknownst to the mutant. After screaming into a void and feeling embarrassed at his actions, the test subject eventually felt that connection be made, the creature reaching out and the buzzing feeling returning tenfold. 

“Demanding pup. I am here.”

    In that moment, clarity washed over him. This wasn’t a dream—a hallucination. This was real. Little critters itched in his skull, tapping and prodding and digging into whatever they could reach. The parasitic attention he felt was the most comforting thing he’d received since being in this hell. 

     His eyes burned as a sudden burst of emotion came from within. Rapidly, he blinked the tears away. He’d been here for too long. Too fucking long. 

“Who are you? Why were you in my dream?”

“I felt kin. I searched. Found you.”

“Kin? What do you—“

“Hush.”

       That ticklish, almost itchy feeling came again but this time Sebastian found his racing heart forcibly calming, breaths slowing.  It felt like he was a spectator to his own body, feeling it melt into the floor while his mind marveled at what was happening. It burned. It felt nice. It felt awful. He struggled. 

“The humans call me Z-317. A…name is not something I am familiar with.”

      Eyes flickered about, never settling on a point for long. So this was another experiment? The idea wasn’t far-fetched at all. It was honestly the only sensible reason. People didn’t speak this way after all. A thought creeped in and his throat clicked when he swallowed. 

      Maybe… they were like him? Kidnapped and morphed into something unrecognizable? A bitter chuckle, insane and raspy creeped out his fanged mouth, harsh as his vocal chords clicked and chittered. Wouldn’t that be rich? Another poor soul in this predicament. 

“You are…amused. Why?”

The fuzziness scratched his brain, digging up grooves and nearly popping vessels as it was pilfered.  A stinging sensation shot through and a yelp was heard in his cell, all his arms flying up to grip his hair as he winced. The scraping withdrew and along with agony he felt…sorry?

His eyes gingerly opened up and he uncurled himself a bit.  “What the hell was that…?!”

“Curious. Why are you happy? I would like to feel as well.”

Invisible teeth hooked into his head a strangled yell was heard. His brain was pulled and prodded, the migraine intensifying while Sebastian writhed. His nose burned, nasal throbbed as his head pounded over and over again. 

“SssSTOP! STOP IT!” He begged and the creature fell back once more. 

The creature must have felt sorry, a sudden guilt running through him that sent him whirling. 

“…It is my duty.”

“What?..”

“I am in pain. Because of humans. I hear too much. I see too much. Know too much.”

He listened as the voice droned on. 

“I..feel…happy when the voices stop. I wanted to know more. I am sorry.”

“Just…don’t do that again.”

Without its voice, Sebastian’s ears honed in on the sound of water dripping. Metal creaked and swayed. The darkness both welcomed and threatened him. He found his maw opening before he could really think. 

“I wasn’t happy…I can’t remember the last time I was.”

“Then why laugh? Is that not happiness?” Has the creature been in front of him, Sebastian’s sure its head would have tilted like a confused puppy. His mother came to mind, her soft pudgy features blank like a statue, green hue gleaming in her eyes. 

He swallowed, throat stinging. 

“It can be. But I’m just a sad fuck trapped in a cell that doesn’t even look or feel human. Ain’t nuthin’ to laugh about.”

“Confusing.”

He shook his head. 

“I am tired.”

“Welcome to the club. 

“Wait—you’re leaving?” This is what he got for being a smart ass  

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

“No, no, no wait! Please wait—“

“I will return, pup. Rest.”

Pressure he hadn’t realized was there ebbed off. The sudden silence and encompassing feeling of loneliness nearly sent him spiraling again.  He managed to drag himself into a corner and the darkness swallowed him whole. 

~*~

    When Sebastian rose again, two things became apparent. One, he was alone. This wasn’t new, however he had expected at some point for that wretched doctor to be there, waiting for him to open his eyes. Cyan orbs lazily moved about, his mouth smacking from the aching dryness. 

     He was utterly alone. If this kept happening, Sebastian might believe there was a god. The thought caused his chest to ache as a laugh came out. He ignored the way his vision clouded, blinking to clear it. 

     The next thing he noticed was how itchy his body was. Just dragging his head against the floor felt like heaven, mercy. A small part of him commented on how often he thought of death. He squashed it down without hesitation. Back to his body though, it felt like fire ants with every breath he took. 

      A loud swishing sound was heard, his esca weakly flaring as his tail dragged on the floor. He felt pinpricks light up on his tail, the appendage scraping against the floor as he clumsily nudged it back and forth.  His lungs burned. His eyes squinted and leaked tears from the acquired scales. For a place so humid, his body seemed to think it was in a damn Sahara. 

“Ay, piñga..” he cursed, dropping his head against the floor with a muffled thud. His throat swallowed once more and he winced at the sensation. He needed water. Desperately. The mutant craved it, felt his tongue itch for just a droplet of its essence while his skin seemed to vibrate in anticipation. Another part of him, the part of him that he was quickly finding he detested (surprise, surprise) was taking matters into its own hands. 

     His ear that was free from the confines of the ground, twitched about. Coming forward and angling up and down, the appendage hyper focused on different areas. His tongue peaked out from his toothed maw, the perpetual smile on his face parting to release the forked tongue. 

     Cracked as it was, he could taste the salt and humidity in the air. His ear picked up the sound of a current, various currents actually. One was muffled while the other was much more pronounced. Sebastian could deduce where the muddle current was coming from. He knew he was however the fuck many miles below the surface. Of course there’d be some type of current around the complex. 

What really piqued his interest was the rushing sound of water that wasn’t even…

      Confused, he mustered whatever he strength he could so push himself up in weak arms. His fins flared out, happy from being squished as he turned (more like threw himself) in the direction. Behind him, he noticed what looked like unlit lights in the ground, his eyes tinging the area cyan as he squinted. 

    Following the lights, he realized they sloped downward before suddenly ending. Using his newly acquired height to his advantage, Sebastian bore the pain and aches that lit his nerves ablaze. In a half laying position he stretched to see above the slope. 

There was nothing. Or rather, there was a darkness that swayed and moved. 

   Before he even realized it, he had dragged himself across, his razor sharp claws puncturing the floor with ease for grip. He felt fevered. Feral. Rabid. Whatever else words you could use to describe him nearly foaming at the mouth for the dark void that literally screamed his name. 

     One second he was at the peak of the slope, the next Sebastian found himself sliding down, actually tumbling because of his initial momentum and the next thing he knew, he sucked in a gasp of air and was crashing into the water, sending gallons to fly in the air as his body sank under.

   Clumsily he swiped through, his webbed hands propelling him a little before his weight forced him further down. All around him it was dark, his eyes barely able to make out shapes from the encompassing abyss. 

Something swayed in his vision, the faint lightbulb shape illuminated from his eyes. Trying to make the thing glow, Sebastian prayed for it to turn on. And it did! His eyes widened in joy, greedily taking in the sights before he saw the light ebb. His heart dropped at that and in a sudden yet dumb thought, he yanked on the light, ignoring how it caused a sudden spike of pain. 

It turned back on. While the pressure in his chest built, still actively sinking to the floor (—how long had he been sinking-?!), he stared at the esca that shined bright like a star in space. It did not ebb out. 

    Shaking his head at the stupidity of the situation, Sebastian returned his focus to more pressing issue. 

   He couldn’t breath. His chest burned. Hiccuped as he tried to swing back up to no avail. Desperate, the memories of his transformation fueled his will to live, the drowning still too fresh for his psyche. He didn’t want to die. Not again. Not again! 

       Panicked eyes darted about, swishing claws grabbing onto nothing. His eyes teared up, the panic too much as he finally gasped, the water rushing into his body and causing him to keen. His heart raced, fighting and losing against the tidal wave of pure fear that poisoned his blood. 

He was going to die. 

      He was going to drown, in pure suffocating darkness as a monsterous version of himself. He was going to die alone in the dark. The thought of his body ballooning into a heap of meat, sinking into the ocean floor to be eaten by the parasites in the abyss. 

He was—

Maybe it was the desperation, maybe it was him latching onto a stupid idea in a bid to live—the stupid fucking instinct all living things had. Whatever it was, the sea man took another breath, feeling the wave of water rush into his body as air was forcibly pushed out.

     And during that moment, he felt his ribs open, something else opened, and all of sudden the burning water that coursed through him felt like an angel’s touch, blessing and nourishing him inside and out as his gills finally started to work. 

    He greedily inhaled and exhaled, starved off literally oxygen. He ignored the way he felt calm and at peace, lingering anxiety melting away. He ignored how safe he felt in the darkness that stretched gods know how long.

    He ignored how the longer he sat there on the floor, hair waving in the current he felt less and less itchy. He ignored the buzzing at the back of his head, the way he knew something was there watching his every move. He ignored the way the water felt like coming home, a mothers hug that swarmed his being to lay him in bed and hush his cries. 

   He ignored how the last image of his mother he could remember had been tainted by something alien. 

He ignored how he knew he wouldn’t be able to go home. 

Not anymore. 

   If Sebastian sobbed something ugly, ripping into his own flesh with his newly acquired claws, he ignored it. 

It’s not like it mattered anyway. 

Chapter Text

Dr. Bloom sat hunched at his desk beneath dim, synthetic lights. The air tasted of recycled coolant and too many hours. His screen emitted a soft glow, one of eight monitors built into the curved wall in front of him. Every single one showed something different: diagnostics, department feeds, chemical intake reports, and live footage.

His gaze lingered on the one feed he hadn’t minimized all day.

Cell 9A — Occupant: Z-13 {SEBASTIAN}
Status: Stable. Conscious.

The video stream showed a submerged chamber filtered through blue light and one way thick glass. In the corner of the tank, partially coiled near a dune of sand, was him—the entity known only as Sebastian.

And Bloom hadn’t set foot near him in nearly four days.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his eyes. The surface teams didn’t understand what kind of hell C-17’s arrival had stirred. You didn’t just welcome an atmospheric-class cryptid into a trench lab. You cleared sectors. You revised fail-safes. You recalibrated tranquilizers. Every little decision, every delay, was routed through Bloom’s desk.

His name had appeared on more digital signatures in the last 72 hours than in the last three months combined.

Between the transport logistics, reauthorization of the Class-C sedative supply, and the constant interfacing with both topside command and internal risk council, Bloom had barely eaten. He’d slept, if you could call it that, in two-hour intervals on the cot beside the reactor vent.

And still—still he felt like he was missing the only thing that mattered.

Footage wasn’t enough.

Not when it came to him.

A sigh, hot and snarky burning left Travis as his heart pounded: watching, waiting, observing. 

The creature’s hair flowed in the current, jagged maw shut and hiding those gorgeous fangs. His eyes, twin teal suns in the darkness that occasionally fled from the light of his lure. 

A pulse. He blinked and willed himself to calm down. This reaction was unbecoming. 

His intercom blinked: a meeting request from the Secretary’s office.

He sighed and clicked into the call. The display split three ways.

Secratary Roxanne’s expression was as cold as the sea above them. Beside her, C-17’s Overseer, Director Tagashi, a man so still he seemed grown from stone.

“Dr. Bloom, I see you’ve been busy.”  Roxanne dryly greeted, rectangle frames settled on her nose as she looked through pages of lab results. 

A lazy drawl of a smile crept onto his face. His eyes squinted something dangerous. 

The man readjusted in his seat, his back straight as he nodded. He whistled a small breath before he responded, contemplative as he stared into his camera. 

“Of course. One must be prepared to house a twenty ton beast, no?” 

His right hand picked up a pen off screen, spinning the tool in a wide arch. Roxanne offered nothing as she continued to read the papers before her. She finally seemed to settle on her desired page, setting the others in a neat stack as she focused on the lines before her. 

Tagashi chose the time to speak up, voice gruff yet raspy. “I trust you’ve received the Phase II of C-17’s transport?” 

“I’ve reviewed it, amended it, and corrected your team’s intake misclassifications,” Bloom replied dryly, pulling up the document overlay. “The sedative dosage wasn’t adjusted for his rate of oxygen-conversion. He would have metabolized the admin and broke out of restraints within thirty minutes.”

Such a mistake was expected from loose keepers. 

Tagashi nodded slightly, shame swallowed in his oversight. “We’ve added a paralytic compound to the next formulation. Subdermal injectors will be drone-assisted.”

“Good,” Bloom muttered. Though he had no faith in their formulation, he had his own team ready in case something were to happen. His eyes drifted back to the live cell feed. His pearl.  Still there. Still breathing. Still…

Beautiful.

Roxanne continued. “We have also received the lab report from Z-13. The boss would like to pass his congratulations.”

Tagashi nodded, passing his congrats over as well. 

He nodded, distracted. Something shifted on the screen—Sebastian, raising his head slightly, gills flaring as the water flow triggered them. The movement sent ripples across his back, his lure drawing light across the thin overlay of scales. It was like watching bioluminescence woven through flesh.

Flashback — Three Days Ago
Location: Transfer Hall 3

It was quiet in the way a morgue is quiet — sterile, humming, indifferent. The reinforced walls of Bay Gamma-3 dripped with condensation from the mist cycle, a constant, regulated humidity designed to keep cryptid subjects from desiccating. But tonight it felt… colder.

Bloom stepped through the containment antechamber, the hiss of the triple-seal doors releasing behind him. His boots clicked against the grated floor. The chamber was lit only by top-down strips of surgical LEDs, casting sharp, pale lines across the floor. And there, in the center of the elevated platform, lay Z-13.

Sebastian.

He was unmoving. Laid out on a steel table reinforced with hydraulic anchors. Arms placed neatly by his sides. Restraints not engaged—because they didn’t need to be.

The sedative cocktail had induced full neuromuscular suppression. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t flinch. Couldn’t scream.

But his eyes were open.

Wide. Glassy. Fixed on the ceiling with an almost feline stillness—slit pupils unblinking. Watching nothing. Or everything.

Bloom exhaled slowly. The mist curled from his breath in the cold air.

“Vitals?” he asked, voice hushed though no one was in the room but the observing medtechs behind glass.

A voice crackled in his earpiece. “Stable. Heart rate low. Neural activity... responsive. He can hear you.”

He stepped forward.

His gloves made a wet, sticky sound as they met Sebastian’s skin. It wasn’t quite human skin—more like a thin membrane stretched over bioluminescent musculature, slippery where the scales transitioned in rippling layers across his abdomen. Every scale was iridescent, almost too symmetrical. Designed by pressure, nature, or something else entirely.

He pressed two fingers along Sebastian’s throat, just beneath the gill slits.

They fluttered faintly.

“You’re adapting faster than the others,” he whispered. “Your body doesn’t resist the change. It welcomes it.”

No response. Of course.

But the eyes… still open. Still locked in that uncanny, passive stare.

Bloom leaned closer, placing a scanner over the chest cavity. The machine buzzed quietly, measuring internal shift patterns. The gills had begun to anchor deeper, splitting the muscle wall near the heart. 

Most subjects bled during this phase, choking on the sticky iron magma that was their own blood. But, Sebastian had not. He laid their, welcoming the change bestowed onto him with grace. 

“You’re perfect,” Bloom murmured, forgetting the intercom was still open.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a slim scalpel.

Behind the glass, the monitoring team tensed.

“Doctor Bloom…?”

“Relax,” he said smoothly. “I’m only collecting shed tissue.”

He made a small incision just beneath the rib arc—nothing vital, just enough to draw blood, just enough to watch how it flowed. It came slow, viscous, colored a dark plum with oxygen saturation.

Bloom dipped his finger into it.

Still warm.

Still alive.

He looked back at Sebastian’s face. The eyes hadn’t moved. Not once.

‘Do you feel it?’ he thought, eyes wide and unblinking not wanting to miss a single twitch.

No answer. Of course. Just the low drone of machines. The faint ripple of gill movement. The oppressive, unnatural stillness of a creature trapped between sleep and awareness.

Bloom peeled away a few loose scales from the side of the neck, careful not to tear the membrane underneath. He held one up to the light—it glistened like an insect’s wing, catching shifting patterns of blue, green, and something like violet fire. He smiled faintly.

One by one, he pocketed them.

He had no intention of logging the sample.

Then, just as he turned to sterilize his gloves, a sound crackled softly in his earpiece.

A breath.

Not from the monitoring tech.

Not from the comms.

From the table.

Sebastian’s lips hadn’t moved. His chest hadn’t lifted.

But Bloom swore—he swore—he heard something like a whisper crawl through the silence. A soft, gurgling sound, like water rising through a drain:

“Bloom.”

He froze.

Looked down.

Sebastian’s eyes were still open.

Still staring.

He waited, waited long enough for the intercom to crackle to life once more, a researcher calling him. Exiting the bay as the transport team funneled in, he ignored the heat that bloomed in his gut, heady and primal and sickening even to himself as he marched back to his office. 

Present — Back in Office

“Doctor?” Roxanne's voice pulled him back.

“Yes,” he said automatically, eyes still fixed on the monitor. In his pondering, he supposed Tagashi had left the call. Ever the spineless rat that man was, dodging work calls and fleeing at first opportunity 

“The transportation of C-17.” He heard the faint clocks of a mouse at work.“According to the sector report and overseer, its ETA is 6 hours and 27 minutes.” 

The building groaned in a nearly ominous tone and Bloom had to kill off the excitement that crawled up. Her brown eyes seemed to stare through him as she brought her already straight soldiers back, leveling him with upmost seriousness. 

“Are you prepared for its arrival?”

     Her brown eyes bore into the camera as she waited for an answer. Dr. Bloom’s face, initially a neutral mask, shifted into one of pleasantry. In truth? Yes, they were ready for the beast—no matter how rushed it all became in the last few days. It had been a blur of motion, finalizing details for the new holding area and devices to be used on C-17. But now, with Z-13–no, Sebastian awake and the holding cell ready, their plan could proceed with no issue. 

At least, that was the ideal scenario. Of course, he was a man with contingency plan after contingency plan. Issues were bound to arise no matter how careful one was. 

“Of course, Miss Roxanne.” He sat up in his chair, elbows coming to rest on the table as he waved his right hand. “I’ve given R&D the go-ahead with the shock collars I’ve referenced in the reports, along with a holding cell adequate for its size and nature.”

They’ve thought of everything, which she should know already l through the data he faxed over. 

“And the mating? How are you going about this?”

Another question that already had an answer. Bloom took a moment before responding, adjusting his frames as he reached off to the side for a stray paper. The title of it read, ‘C-17 DETAILS’. 

“ According to Tagashi, C-17 is unmated and appears to be a juvenile close to adulthood.” He started off. “ The chances of it immediately marking Z-13 as a foe is unknown, though we can estimate through its reported behavior that there is a high probability.” He said, setting the paper down again before leveling Roxanne with a look. 

“Upon its arrival, it should still be under the effects of a strong sedative. If it is, wonderful. If not, a simple re-admin will be done. While my team could wait and see if a natural mating would occur, I believe it in our best interest to not risk losing the fruit of our life’s work.” He drawled. 

Roxanne nodded at that, “That it would, Doctor. Please, continue.”

“During its sedation, the chips will be implanted as well. I'm sure you don’t want me to bore you with known details.” He hinted, his smile a facade for the irritation he felt. Roxanne said nothing, face impassive as ever. 

Her shoulders rolled back as she straightened her posture. “Ah—“ her face, despite the supposed shock did not change, “—A question was brought to the board’s attention recently.” He noticed her lack of naming who exactly said it. 

“Go on.”

“Some animals have been reported to have a lower chance of becoming gravid through IVF. Data citing that if a mating was to occur, it may be best to let it play out naturally. If this is the case with Z-13 and C-17, will you take the risk if need be?”

For a moment he paused, staring at Roxanne in silence. Though, the moment was broken because of his sigh, leaning back into his plush chair. 

“Of course.” He agreed, face unchanging. He sat up with an inhale, rearranging his already neat desk as he leveled her with a look.  

“With everything on the line, I’d be a fool not to, Roxanne. I’m sure you understand that.”

“Hm.”

He continued on with his initial statement, “Going back to the IVF however, it’s during the transfer is when we will extract the needed semen to perform artificial insemination. Z-13 will undergo sedation and the treatment will occur then.”

     A thought occurred to him just then, his fingers lightly drumming outside of the camera’s view in his irritation. Everything she asked about was in the paper. He tried to swallow down the annoyance he felt. What was she playing at?

“And upon failure?”

    For a moment, he paused in his drumming. Slowly, he answered her question as if it was a no brainer, which it was. 

“We will try again. If need be, via natural occurance.” 

     He was aware how people of lower caliber viewed this project. A mad man’s plan, a last ditch effort to avoid being dismantled by Mr. Shade—he’d heard the whispers all around. But what they, those scientists, investors, Roxanne, all failed to grasp was that this was the entire nature of science. His lifeblood. His calling. 

“This is the way of science, my dear. Where one trial fails, there are more to be done.” 

It was best she left the thinking to the professionals. 

 “Hm. I trust your team understands the situation at hand, Dr. Bloom.” Her voice, monotone, came statically from the speakers. A distant creak, normal when yards underwater, rocked the facility. Dr. Bloom dipped his head sagely, bringing his hand back into view. 

“Without a doubt, Roxanne.”

“Mr. Shade trusts you will not disappoint. Good day.”

And with that, the video call was over, the video footage staring back at him. 

Bloom sat in silence, watching the feed again. In 9A, Sebastian had uncurled slightly, pressing one palm to the glass wall. His gills flicked open and closed, soft and slow.

The cameras had sound. You could hear water filter through the vents. But not breath. Not voice. Not presence.

Not like being there.

Bloom stood, slow and unsteady. He’d stayed away long enough.

There were some things—some lives—you had to witness with your own eyes.

And there were some obsessions you couldn't file away in a lab report.

~*~

“Z-317’s brain waves show activity of power usage.” The windows looking into an enclosure had been shuttered closed, metal panels keeping the subject out of view. Distantly, the team of researchers heard the intercom chime, a muffled voice carrying through the base about some nonsensical meeting in a few hours. 

   Scattered folders and USBs littered the desks as computer screens shined gently. Keyboard keys were slowly pressed as someone wrote their observations. A woman came closer to the guy who called out Z-317’s activity.  

    Both of their silhouettes were illuminated by the monitor displaying Eyefestation’s inner workings. For a moment, the woman kept quiet, manicured round nails in the air as she rested her elbow on her wrist. There, she twiddled with her fingers, rubbing her thumb and pointer together. 

Her head angled over to her colleague who continued to tap away at his tablet. 

“When did this happen?”

“First usage began at two AM today. Longest usage lasted between two thirty to two fifty.”

“Fifteen minutes? Without a break?”

“Yes”

She hummed, readjusting her stance as she looked at the monitor ahead. On it, Eyefeststion’s heart pulsed along with its blood pressure. The embedded tracker floated on the little map in the corner of the device. 

“For it to go that long…”

The man beside her hummed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in contemplation. “Exactly. Subjects usually succumb within fifteen seconds, thirty tops.” 

“…huh…” It didn’t take long before the woman let her arms fall to the side, her head angled towards the man. 

“Monitor it for further activity.” Giving the command she turned and began to walk away. “It seems our little baby has found a friend…” The man gave her a lazy salute that was quickly followed by a grimace. 

“Ay ay captain…also stop calling it our baby…it’s fucking weird.”

He sighed completely disgusted. The woman chortled as she walked back to her station, landing in her chair with a thump. 

“Ay ay captain”” she mocked as she got settled in. Whipping up her email, she began drafting to her colleagues about the new development. She’d need to log the graphs and have someone here 24/7 to monitor the monster.  Who was the new friend? She wondered as she pulled files and images into her email. 

Who was it?

~*~

Somewhere else in the facility, a computer with a drawn face flicks on, a childish face of intrigue appearing as it watched the camera feed.

Chapter Text

    Dr. Bloom closed the door to his office with a quiet click, the sound muted by layers of pressure-sealed steel. The lights in the corridor hummed gently overhead, a sterile wash of artificial white radiance reflecting off polished floors and frosted panels. Five minutes, give or take, to reach Containment Block Delta.

    He adjusted his collar and smoothed a hand down the front of his coat, pausing for a moment to collect himself—appearance was everything, even here, miles beneath the ocean’s surface.

     The hum of distant filtration units, the soft clack of boots and the occasional hiss of pressurized doors accompanied him as he walked. Researchers passed with clipped nods, a few interns stiffening instinctively at the sight of him. Bloom returned the courtesies with a gentle smile, perfectly professional.

‘Good lads, most of them,’ he thought mildly. ‘But nervous. That’s to be expected. Everyone’s always a bit jumpy when we’re this far under.’

He passed the observation gallery, pausing briefly to glance through the reinforced glass. Beyond, a dim blue light flickered over rows of empty tanks. Experimental failures—terminated, archived, documented. He faced forward and continued on.

‘They’ll never understand what he is,’ Bloom mused quietly, not aloud, of course—he was in public. Best not to be deemed crooked. ‘Not properly. Not the way I do. They see the mutations, the trauma, the tests gone too far. But they don’t see the elegance. The potential.’

Z-13.

Sebastian.

A curious name for such a thing. Too soft, too classical. But it was his, that could not be denied.  Some remnants of the original always remained—names, nerve memories, faint traces of personality clinging like algae to the hull of a ship. What remained now, though, was… transcendent.

‘What we’ve created is magnificent,’ Bloom thought, fingers curling loosely behind his back. ‘His skin alone—iridescent under the right lighting. The structure of his spine, the muscle weave over the scapulae… he's not a specimen. He’s a revelation.’

One of the engineers brushed past him too closely and mumbled an apology. Bloom gave a polite nod, but his mind was far from here.

‘I’ll need to install the tracker along the cervical column. Subcutaneous, just along the left side. I’ll have to make the incision myself—too many of them fumble with tools like clumsy schoolboys.’

‘I’ll monitor him myself. No more remote footage. I want to see the tremors in his gills when he stirs. I want to track his breath patterns. Map his aggression.’

He exhaled softly, pleased with the growing clarity in his thoughts.

‘It’s not about cruelty. Never has been. This is preservation. Replication. Precision.’

‘He must remain healthy. Prime. Fertile.’

‘C-17 will arrive soon.’

That thought made his mouth twitch at the corner. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything.

‘He’ll resist at first. Of course. But he’ll submit in time. Nature always finds the rhythm it’s pushed toward. And I’ll be there. Watching. Recording. Measuring stress responses, hormone levels, the interplay of dominance and instinct.’

It wasn’t arousal. Bloom didn’t feel in that way. It was fascination. Obsession. A desire to witness the impossible become measurable.

If his pants felt a bit snug, he blatantly ignored and denied such happenings. He was no animal. He was no beast. To even feign such behavior would be asinine. 

As he reached the final set of blast doors, a low beep acknowledged his ID. The thick slabs of steel slid open with a heavy shudder.

Having finally reached the Containment Block, when the steel doors slid shut he allowed a grin to spread his lips. Beyond the hall lay the holding cell. And within it: Z-13.

Still. Powerful. Damaged.

Perfect.

‘Soon, my boy,’ Bloom thought, stepping into the sterile hall with quiet reverence. ‘You’ll give me everything I’ve ever dreamed of...’ 

‘Whether you mean to or not.’

In his musings, the sound of footsteps approached—measured and deliberate.

Dr. Jones emerged from the bend, as unshakable and unreadable as always. Her lab coat hung straight, pressed, not a single pen or credential out of place. Her face held the same neutral detachment she'd had when they'd watched Z-13 nearly drown in its own blood.

“Dr. Bloom,” she said without inflection.

He nodded her way, reaching up to adjust his tie. “Jones.”

Coming to a stop a polite distance away, she didn’t waste time. “We have an incident in the Tier-6 datastream.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sabotage?”

“External reroute. Feed breach from Z-779.” She handed him a tablet already pulled to the exact log entry. “Z-13’s cell feed. Accessed just yesterday. We only caught it this morning because the breach nested inside an old visual diagnostics loop.”

He scrolled. Data skittered past—lines of code, timestamps, IP trails. Then:

Voice message received: 03:12am
From: The p.AI.nter

An audio file was embedded below. He tapped play.

A voice poured from the tablet—male, lilting, strangely chipper. Childish. 

"Knock knock, doctor. Hope this transmission finds you well! To be honest I’m a little sad you guys didn’t tell me about the new guy.  Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That’s soooooo mean! ." 

The doctor grimaced at the high pitched whine, headache brewing at having to deal with this on top of everything else.  

"So now, I have to be mean. Hey— tell Z-13 about me. Let him know I exist. I’m dying to meet him. Literally. If you don’t—well, I’ll just have to fry my circuits—no more data for you! Hehe, oh—And the eastern coolant junctions with it. I’m wired into all sorts of things now. Storage bays. Cryo valves. Firewalls. Other important thingy-ma-jiggy’s that are reeeeeaaalll expensive to replace.”

Then silence. 

The file ended.

Bloom stared at the screen, jaw tensing slightly. The day that thing’s overseer let Bloom near it for just a second..

 “It’s talking like a child’s television host, and threatening mass detonation.”

“Yes,” she replied. “In that order.”

A long beat passed.

“The Painter wants direct contact with Z-13. No intermediaries. Private session.”

“How generous,” Bloom muttered. “And what’s its end goal?”

Jones’s eyes didn’t blink. “Unknown. Possibly companionship. Possibly corruption. Possibly…curation.”

He scoffed, “Well, Jones—” shaking his head and handing the tablet back to her, he continued “Whatever its goal may be, be sure to coordinate with its ‘seer. I’ll leave it all to you.” Continuing down the hall, the man cared not for a machine’s play at power. His focus was entirely on the more important being lying just ahead. 

This narrowed focus resulted in him missing Jones' eyes narrow while her lip curled down in irritation. The woman stayed where she was for only a few moments, before she too, departed. 

He could hear the door long before it opened.

    The mechanical groan of hydraulics twisted through the water like a warning tremor. The pressure of the room shifted subtly — a ripple, a vibration he could feel along the lining of his ribs, in the fine hairs along his back.

    Sebastian blinked slowly, lashes barely parting in the murk. His body drifted in place, neutral and unreadable. The tethers of reality began to latch onto him while unconsciousness faded. He had passed out, at some point. Maybe it was finally being alone, completely alone after everything happened that allowed his body to calm. 

    Maybe it was the cold, biting waves that now felt like home that lulled him away. He didn’t know. But what he did know was that his safe haven was compromised. He needed to wake up. Now. 

   Bright white light stabbed through the surface above. His already squinted eyes, shut completely as a hiss bled from him, his third eye pulsing in agony. An arm came up to shield his face, his fin opening in an attempt for more shade.  Even from the tank’s depth, it hurt his eyes. He stayed low, suspended in the chilling liquid, muscles tensed just under his thick skin. Silent. Coiled.

His ears fanned out, the appendages still so foreign yet slowly familiarizing themselves to help him. Footsteps. The familiar rhythm of them. Measured, clean, arrogant. They crossed the sterile floor in deliberate sequence, each one a countdown to violation.

Bloom.

But rage simmered beneath his stillness like venom. His gills flickered with agitation, contracting with quiet restraint.

"Sebastian..."

Even through the water, Bloom’s voice was unmistakable — like oil sliding down metal. Smooth, foreign, always too calm. It came to him distorted and muffled, but clear enough. That accent. The way he used his name like he owned it.

His claws curled loosely in the sand as he slowly pushed himself up, matted hair and lure flowing with his movements. The wounds he had given himself had long stopped their bloody tears, only open to reveal plum red meat that seemed to slowly knit itself shut. He stayed down there, unmoving, eyes now wide as he drug himself out of his stupor. The lights had shifted—too bright. He could sense the heat of them pressing down from above , more intense than usual. 

"...sulking. Terribly unbecoming of you."

Sebastian clenched his jaw.

Bloom, he had learned, was a sucker for dramatics. Even if he didn’t seem like it, he loved to draw things out—dramatize and let him rive in his own blood, sweat and god knows what else for the sake of science. He liked it when he was scared. He liked watching Sebastian react.  

He gave him none of it.

He stayed in the dark.

Lying.

Waiting.

He heard the sound change — Bloom’s steps softer now, closer to the slope. His voice came again, more pointed, more intimate.

"...a session for you... you’ll want to look your best..."

Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?

Against his will, his chest hiccuped, new body briefly lagging between respiratory systems. This caused Sebastian to choke as a surge of water entered his lengths before his body corrected itself.

However, the damage had been done, he distantly thought as tears clouded his vision. Even though it hurt, he watched as bubbles rose up to the beaming light above, an offering to the demon that waited for any sign of life. 

He closed his eyes in some childish attempt to hide. 

He felt it before he saw it. 

The energy crackled in Bloom’s hand like static on his skin, even from beneath the surface. He recognized the hum. The pain it carried. His mind flashed back to the men who took him, the men who jeered and laughed as they prodded him.  

In that moment, his eyes snapped open, head snapping to look at the surface in pure terror, light be damned as his eyes burned.  

And then it hit.

Electricity punched through the water like a living net — fire in his veins, a thousand needles along his spine. He arched involuntarily, gills spasming open, muscles clenching as current coiled around every nerve ending.

It wasn’t a scream he gave, but a sudden thrash — violent, instinctual, unyielding.

Then, as the current licked deeper, he shot upward.

The water churned violently around him as Sebastian surged upward, breaking the surface with a thunderous splash that sent ripples crashing against the cold walls of the containment chamber. At nearly sixty meters in length, the absurd size of the chamber suddenly made sense.  His upper body alone spanned nearly twenty-seven feet. Yet despite his size, the mutant’s body was something to be pitied—painfully thin in the bright light with muscles drawn tight and fragile. 

His tail was a large, clumsy thing, thrashed awkwardly behind him as he flopped onto the ridged sloped surface. Sparks of frustration were sent through Sebastian’s body. The awkwardness of his own size, the confinement—it was maddening.

His cyan pupils adjusted painfully to the brutal, blinding white of the overhead floodlights. The light scorched at his eyes, the world a nauseating blur of harsh shadows and glaring beams. He squinted, head thrashing slightly as his vision fought to focus, but the glow refused to relent, stabbing at him relentlessly. 

Amidst the confusion, one thing was clear: the unmistakable scent of Bloom. That sickening mixture of antiseptic, ink, and old sweat. It filled the air around him like a noose tightening with every breath.

Sebastian’s chest heaved, gills fluttering erratically as he struggled against the searing light, the sudden air, and the relentless thudding of his own pulse.

His gaze locked onto Bloom, standing calmly a ways away, calm and unflinching as always. The man’s hands were poised at his sides, one resting lightly against the smooth handle of a slim black baton that hummed softly—dangerous and silent.

Sebastian’s voice broke through the cavernous chamber—a low, guttural snarl rippling through the water as his enormous frame crawled out towards the man, the tank trembling beneath him.

“You…” His tone was raw, ragged with pain and fury. The muscles in his neck tightened as he forced the words out, each syllable weighted with years of trauma. His arms trembled as claws dug into reinforced ground, slowly but surely pulling his mass out the water. He ignored the way he wobbled and shook. He ignored the way his tail seemed to weigh one thousand pounds. He ignored how pitiful he must have looked. How sad. How skinny. How thin. How disgusting. 

Bloom’s smile was the last thing Sebastian wanted to see—a thin, almost polite curve that never reached the eyes.

“Me, yes—it is me in the flesh,” Bloom said smoothly, voice calm and clipped with that refined cadence. “I supposed it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say I was missed. How are you adjusting, Z-13?.”

“Or rather, Sebastian, yes?”

The growl that tore through him nearly shocked himself. Now?! Now was when the doctor decided to grace him with his name? To use it—mockingly with a Spanish lit, like he had the right to use it at all??

Sebastian’s tail lashed wildly, sweeping across the containment space and striking the metal walls with a booming clang. The noise echoed sharply, but the clumsiness only made his frustration swell. He could barely get a stable grip, let alone manuever.

“Mutation has taken well, more animalistic than usual, though that was expected.” The man commented, beginning to pace back and forth just out of Sebastian’s reach. His gaze cut him down, bringing him back to the cold lab instantly. It was insanity, how Bloom was capable of such a feat when Sebastian now measured at least 50 feet long. He was a giant laid before this cruel man like an offering—a sacrifice. 

His heart hurt. 

“Not up for talking? Surprising.” He chuckled, “you’re usually so quick to insult—cat got your tongue?”

He felt something snap. 

With a surge of rage, Sebastian lunged forward, the massive bulk of his upper body propelling him toward Bloom with terrifying speed. His powerful claws sliced through the humid air, aiming for the man with raw desperation.

He wasn’t thinking. Could you blame him? Your tormentor standing in front of you, acting as if they were untouchable, as if they were God—it would kill anyone wouldn’t it?

But Bloom remained unnervingly still.

With a slight, almost imperceptible movement, Bloom clicked a small button hidden in the pocket of his lab coat.

Suddenly, a violent convulsion seized Sebastian’s body. His muscles locked and jerked uncontrollably as a fierce pulse of electricity shot through his body, coiling through every fiber of his massive frame. The shock burned like fire, sharp and unrelenting.

He couldn’t stop himself from letting a strangled yell go. His claws stopping him from slipping back into the tank as his tail coiled and thrashed relentlessly. 

Bloom’s gaze flickered between the still humming baton and Sebastian’s spasming form, feigning confusion with a subtle, dry smile.

“Oh, yes. This? This is merely for show,” he said breezily, slipping the baton back into his pocket as if it were nothing more than a harmless prop.

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a cold, intimate whisper that barely carried across the water’s surface.

“I implanted a chip in your neck during your physical, you see…,” he murmured. “Subdermal, nestled near the cervical vertebrae. Connected directly to this device.” He tapped the side pocket of his coat with the tip of a gloved finger. “Whenever I wish, I can send that same current coursing through you. So I advise you, Sebastian… don’t get any funny ideas.”

Sebastian’s eyes blazed with fury, wild and unyielding. He spat a spray of water at Bloom’s feet, chest heaving violently. Despite the rage burning through him, the fear of what else had he done, a tremor rippled beneath his skin — involuntary, betraying the shock still coursing in his veins.

“Try to resist, and it will be the last thing you do,” Bloom said softly, voice laced with cold menace.

Yet beneath that menace lay a twisted form of admiration.

“I want you alive,” Bloom said carefully, eyes glinting with dark satisfaction. “Healthy. Pristine. Because you, Sebastian, are not just a creature. You are my greatest work. And there is much more to be done.”

Sebastian hissed, tail thrashing with renewed anger, knocking the walls again in his frustration. The confinement, the pain, the betrayal — all a roaring storm beneath his skin.

“Your body is gorgeous-truly. But it’s a shame it’s gotten so thin, like a swallow’s after winter.”

He remarked and Sebastian wondered just how far this man’a delusions went. He spoke as if he wanted this, as if it was his own fault and not his. 

“You’re overdue for a feeding I believe—several, actually.” 

Bloom’s smile tightened, a sinister promise curling at the edge of his lips.

“We should fix that, hm?,” he said, voice low, almost reverent, “feeling up for it?”

Sebastian sneered, his eyes sharp enough to cut steel. “I’m not touching shit you give me.” He wouldn’t. He would not. He’d rather starve to death than eat anything that fucker gave him. 

He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

Prepared to lash out again, Sebastian’s muscles coiled up, ready to strike despite the threat of electrocution. Yet, Bloom did something he never would have imagined him to do. 

The man before him quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t want to eat?” He asked before shrugging a shoulder. “If that is the case, I can’t force you per say. Especially now, at your size.”

What? 

Sebastian bore down at the British man who went on and on about his new size and how it would be physically impossible, no, no truly it would for a man his size to even attempt to force feed him.

“I’m just a man after all.” He finished, almost like he was talking about the weather. 

“If that is the case Sebastian, then that it shall be. You will not eat what I provide, so, you will not eat.”

He began to walk away, leaving Sebastian still from the emotional whiplash. 

When he was nearly to the door is when the man stopped and looked at him over the shoulder. 

“Just remember this,” he began, and all of sudden, Sebastian felt like he’d signed his death. 

A part of him rejoiced. 

A part of him begged for someone to save him. 

“If you don’t let me do it, someone else will.”

Classified Route — XXXXX Miles Beneath Sea Level
ARGO-07

The walls shook again.

A deafening BOOM rippled through the sub’s reinforced hull—followed by another. Then another.

C-17 was awake.

And he was thrashing.

The containment chamber—thick with hydraulic anchors and plasma welds—rattled as something inside struck the wall hard enough to bend steel. Water sloshed across the grated floors from the breach reservoir, drenching the boots of the crew passing through.

“Jesus,” someone muttered.

“Is he trying to crack the walls again?”

“Paralytic’s worn off early—he’s responding to the descent pressure.”

A low bellow vibrated through the corridor, a sound too deep for human vocal cords. Something between a scream and a tectonic groan.

The transport team barely looked up anymore. Just another day in the belly of the beast.

A woman in a pale gray lab coat glanced down at her wrist display. “Get someone to fetch the 6X paralytic. Two full syringes this time. He’s metabolizing too fast.”

A junior aide—wet, underdressed, and visibly rattled—nodded and ran toward the med bay without a word.

The interior of the sub was massive. Three levels tall, designed like a floating prison cell strapped with bio-shielding. Scientists walked catwalks above the container, casually charting fluctuations in temperature and chemical responses, some eating protein bars while watching the creature tear against the reinforced walls below.

C-17 was barely visible through the blue-glow glass.

Only glimpses: movement, weight, rage.

Below, behind two meters of synth-glass and bio-reactive plating, something moved—massive, dark, and alive. A blur of black and white churned through the blue-drenched fluid of the holding vat, trailing bubbles and foam in its wake.

Only pieces of him were visible at any given time. A flash of ivory-white along the underbelly. A blur of thick black arms, humanoid from the waist up—broad shoulders, chest built like a swimmer’s. A glimpse of a massive tail—black like oil slick, speckled with faint tiger-shark striping across a heavy tail. Thick, sleek, sinuous. The kind of power that could split steel.

Another crash.

Water surged out of the tank vents.

“He’s going to rupture the stabilizer if he keeps this up,” someone muttered.

“Then hurry up with the dose.”

One of the techs walked up to gargantuan tank, sipping from a silver thermos like this was all routine.

“Must be gettin’ antsy,” he muttered to no one in particular. “We’re about halfway to the drop zone, yeah?”

Someone nearby grunted confirmation.

Another tech walked up and chuckled, watching the container rattle again as the beast inside hurled himself sideways. The sound was a violent, wet CRACK.

“Not that he knows what’s comin’. Poor bastard thinks we’re takin’ him to the surface.”

He shifted on his feet, rolling his tongue around his mouth. Then leaned l toward the thick glass window like he was talking to a zoo exhibit.

“Here’s the thing, big guy,” he said lazily. “You’re not goin’ up. You’re goin’ down. Right into the pit with that other one. Z-somethin’. Z-13, I think.”

He snorted. The way people do when they don’t think anyone else is really listening. The tank rumbled as water sloshed violently. 

The man sipping his thermos elbowed the other, shaking his head.

“Ay man, chill out. Don’t agitate it more.”

The man scoffed, pointing up at the tank with his thumb. “Relax —this thing doesn’t have a clue in the fucking world on what I’m sayin’” He laughed despite being the only one to do so.  The thermos guy sneered before rolling his eyes, turning to walk away as their capture shook everything around. 

“That one’s got gills now. Pretty little thing, ain’t he? Like a damn angelfish if angelfish were built like a dancer and screamed in sonar.”

A few nearby researchers gave the man a look. He ignored them, too amused with himself to stop.

“You’re gonna like him, I bet. ‘Cause guess what?” He leaned even more to the glass, heady smirk blatant. “You’re not down there to fight him.”

THOOM. The glass shuddered. Not enough to crack. But enough that everyone around subtly flinched.

The man raised an eyebrow, but kept talking.

“Nope. You’re down there to mount him.”

His voice dropped, like this was some crude secret being shared in a locker room.

“They want a hybrid. Some kind of crossbreed. Think you can knock him up, turn fish-boy into an egg sack.”

“You’re just a big ol’ bull, ain’t ya? They’ll let you rut ‘til you’re spent.”

Inside the chamber, something slammed against the far wall where the man was standing. Lights flickered. The man cursed as he jumped back. Complete silence stood in the sub as everyone stopped moving for a half second. 

“Oi,” someone snapped. “Don’t agitate him.”

The man held up his hands, mock innocent. “He don’t understand English.”

No one responded.

The aide returned, panting, holding a case marked with BIOHAZARD: NEUROTOXIN CLASS-P. A pair of med techs moved toward the injection platform mounted just above the containment chamber.

Another slam. This one closer.

The man chuckled nervously, stepping back. “Big guy’s got attitude.”

Then—

He paused.

Inside the glass, just for a moment, something moved toward the front of the tank. Slowly. Steadily.

Two massive hands pressed against the reinforced barrier. Webbed fingers, thick and dark, splayed like claws.

And then…

A face.

Half-shadowed. Bone ridges. Deep gill vents pulsing along the sides of its throat.

Just like an orca, the mutant had “two” sets of eyes: one white while the real set were arranged right ahead. But this, this thing had the real deal. 

Pale white eyes locked onto the man along with pitch black orbs. Both sets did not waver in their gaze. It watched him. Not in rage. Not in confusion.

In silence.

The creature stared at him. Through him.

The man blinked. Swallowed.

C-17 did not move.

But something in his expression—some microscopic tightening of the brow ridge, some shift in the corners of the mouth—left a cold, uncanny imprint.

Not rage.

Not animal instinct.

Just a flicker.

No one spoke for a moment.

The overhead lights buzzed softly, too dim. Every eye on the sub was turned toward the tank now, where the black-and-white shape had drifted low, just above the grate vents.

He wasn't moving anymore. Not thrashing. Not roaring or trilling.

Just waiting. Circling. Slowly. Smoothly. Like an orca playing beneath a ship’s shadow.

And that somehow felt worse.

“…Get the drug in,” Someone said, no, demanded. If there was a tremble to their voice, no one commented. “Do it. Now.”

Two medtechs moved down the grated stairs, the case of paralytics cradled like a bomb. Every step echoed.

One of them swallowed hard as they reached the narrow injector panel mounted on the side of the tank. He slid the canister into the port with shaking fingers.

A hiss.

A soft click.

Then a low hydraulic groan as 6X paralytic flooded into the containment chamber through vents hidden in the walls.

Everyone above watched.

In the water, C-17 didn’t react.

At first.

Then—his body jerked. Subtly.

One twitch. A flex of the arms. A ripple down his long, patterned tail.

Then more.

He began to dip to the side, slowly, as if confused, limbs spasming in disjointed movements. A tremor ran across his back. Air bubbles rushed from his gills. His four eyes blinked out of sync.

His body twitched hard once—then sagged.

Its hands left the glass, dark claws releasing an eerie screeeecchh as they dragged down in sudden loss of conscious. 

And just like that, he stopped.

Floating there.

Face turned down to the floor of the tank. 

The vitals on the overhead monitor dropped into sedation range.

“Status confirmed,” the system’s voice reported. “Subject C-17: unconscious. Vital signs stable.”

Someone exhaled in relief. The kind of breath that had been held far too long.

The silence that followed wasn’t comforting.

It was tense. Too quiet.

The creature was down.

But the air still felt thick. Wrong. Like something was leaning against the edge of everyone’s nerves.

The lady in the lab coat folded her arms tightly across her chest and looked toward the main comms display.

“Bridge,” she said into her earpiece, voice clipped. “Subject is sedated. Proceed to the drop-off point.”

“Copy,” the pilot replied.
“Re-engaging descent protocols. Arrival at Urbanshade:  estimated in two hours and twenty-one minutes.”

The deck underfoot gave a low groan as the vessel’s engines began their pivot. Heavy ballast tanks shifted. The nose of the submarine tilted downward, preparing for its final dive toward the dark trench where Z-13 waited.

The sub started to move again—slow, deliberate, cutting deeper through the black.

Above the tank, someone stood still, staring.

“Did..did you see that?” he muttered.

Another man next to him glanced over, glasses perched on his nose haphazardly. “What now?”

“The way it just stared. The way it just stopped everything to look at Grell after he talked.”
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

No one replied.

Down in the tank, C-17 drifted like a corpse.