Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It Doesn't Matter What Your Crime Was

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody would recover you.

-

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

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

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

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

Z-283

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

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

The blackness had swallowed you again.

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

This was procedure. This was normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lacey?" you whispered, crouching down slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you have the research.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See ya, kid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

And then you were back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing. Sometimes help is just help."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As they gathered supplies, you heard them whispering:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

Moment One:  What's in a Name?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moment Two: The Hurt in Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moment Three: Trivial Pursuit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just give me time to figure this out-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tapping stills. "Ominous."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You just did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No way, she'd be dead-"

"Maybe he’s the reason..."

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

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

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

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

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

"...helping the enemy..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you pass another group, their whispers follow you:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You press the button against his monitor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Sebastian?” you call out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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