Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What an unfortunate way to go. Strapped to a chair, a vile substance spreading through your veins while you await your death. A machine beeps, steadily growing slower and slower. 

Except, you don't get that. 

Instead, an overhead intercom displays the voice of a man droning on, drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Some type of loading bay sat ahead, many stationary submarines present. The geared-up soldiers on each side of you let you go and move to stand at the doors, not uttering a word your way. You only briefly read the contract. Something, something, Urbanshade , blah, blah, blah, expunged , yadda, yadda, freedom . As long as you got out of that death penalty, you were willing to sign anything. There were others you could only assume were in a similar position. They wore jumpsuits with heavy diving gear on the back, and a majority looked, well, rough around the edges.  

You got a good general rundown of the situation, go take a submarine pod down to an abandoned place known as ‘The Hadal Blacksite’, some lab, and collect a crystal by following a marked path. Apparently, this was very challenging. That wasn’t said outright, but judging by the amount of fellow expendables- a rather degrading term to refer to the EXR-P rank- it was definitely something that wouldn’t be a walk in the park. 

Now, you weren’t given much information. Urbanshade was rather secretive about this little project, but judging by the constant use of the term ‘expendable’, something was certainly fishy, a sense of danger loomed in the stale air. 

You step into the loading docks, glancing to the prisoners loitering about. There wasn’t any use, to you, in delaying your descent into the Hadal Blacksite.

Approaching the dock to an empty submarine, a guard posted outside grabs you before you could step in. He picks up a set of diving gear that had a small blinking light in the neck area with one hand and straps it to your back as you bite back a complaint. The guard locks it tight, and it seemed like you wouldn’t be getting out of it on your own. Great. With that, you now get nudged to the submarine as he steps back to wait for others.

You grunt, going in and sitting on the long wall seat with a quiet sigh. To your discontent, in steps a tall woman in a jumpsuit that was multiple shades of pink, she had clean olive skin, curly black hair, dark brown eyes, a large hooked nose, and a triangular face. She takes a small glance at you, her lips pulling down in a frownish-smile as greeting before she takes a seat across from you.  

Huh, didn’t know you could switch out jumpsuits. 

Anyways, a moment after, a sturdy, bald, pale man steps in, wearing a dark grey jumpsuit with red accents. He has many tattoos, and an aggressive air to him. He was tall, but perhaps a couple inches shorter than the olive woman, five foot ten, maybe? He had hazel eyes and a round face, with big bushy eyebrows. He grunts and sits at your side, and you make room, sitting on the end with respectable distance from the older man. 

Then, the submarine door closes. A splash sounds and the pod shakes slightly, though the two are unphased.  

You sigh and settle back into the seat to prepare for the ride, not a clue to what you’ve got yourself into.

The ride is relatively quiet, until the bald man speaks. 

“You’re new, aren’t ya? Still wearing the starting jumpsuit.” He laughs and nudged your forearm, almost mockingly, making you silently raise an eyebrow, the olive girl sighs, watching silently. “M’names Chainsaw. What’d a little girl like yourself do to end up here?” 

Staring at him in disbelief at his audacity, you try to find a way to respond, until he states his name. You bite your bottom lip, the hand resting on your leg gripping the pant leg shakingly. Then, you burst out into laughter, “’Chainsaw?!’ Holy shit, you’re joking, right?” The look on his face tells you otherwise. Oh well. Chainsaws bushy brows were furrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched in anger.  

He goes to say something, but you cut him off quickly, “Nah, no. I’m not calling you that, Princess.” You giggle. The olive skinned lady had an expression that could only be described as mortification. “What about you? Wait, I’m gonna guess.. Blade.” 

She almost snorts quietly, “Oh. No. Just call me Isabella.” She murmurs, “You?” Isabella asks as the muscular male fumes beside you. You give your name just as the submarine dings twice, the door opens and a ramp emerges to connect to the stone ground ahead. 

The intercom drones with the pre-recorded voice from the loading docks, “You have permission to use any additional equipment you may find. Our Navi-Path AI has marked the shortest route possible to your prim-” You tune that out quickly, getting up and out of that submarine, followed by your expedition partners. Once out, the submarine descends back into the dark water. The air is heavy and you swallow a couple times to pop your ears. Chainsaw seems to have his mind set on something, moving to crawl under an oddly set crate, and then re-emerging with a keycard in hand. He goes to a door marked ‘001’ and inputs the keycard so the door harshly opens. 

Chainsaw moves forward without hesitation, and Isabella follows after. You stay quiet, unsure of how to proceed other than to follow their lead. Something in you didn’t want Chainsaw, and probably others of the same font, to know just how new you were. Through the door you go, picking up hard drives and files to stuff in your pockets, assuming those were the ‘loose assets’ you heard of. 

The three of you move rather quickly through the doors, and you pick up what you can while the other two could care less. At door 10, the lights flicker greatly and Isabella curses quietly, glancing around. Chainsaw moves onto the next room while you watch Isabella when she moves to the room behind you. 

You scoff, “What? What’s going on?” Isabella huffs and comes back to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back a room. You twist your arm, about to tell her to watch herself when she pulls open a locker and shoves you in.  

“Stay. Do you understand? Stay.” She says firmly, but you try to open the door, making her slam her hand into it to shut it again. “I said stay, unless you want to die?” With that, she glances down the hall and rushes to another locker, jumping in moments before a mass flies by, a screeching sound assaulting your eardrums as the lights shatter. 

You grunt, hands over your ears for a moment. You don’t dare leave the locker, a look of disbelief on your face. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.  

Unfortunately for you, the locker begins to tear away at your nerves for some reason, an odd sense of dread drenching your being as you suddenly jump out of the locker, panting heavily to catch your breath. Isabella was already out of hers, looking to you with a raised eyebrow. You look up at her, “What... What was that?” You breathe out. 

Isabella hums, “Angler. You, uh, haven’t seen it before?” She responds in confusion, she didn’t think this was your first run, she only thought you were, in some form, new. So much for keeping that a secret 

You sigh, “No.” The reply is muttered in a gruff tone, “I have no idea what any of this is.” 

Your teammate cringes, “That’s rough. But, yeah, Angler. There’s more types, too... Though, you’ll learn.” Isabella shrugs. How helpful. You only nod. 

With that, you continue on, reuniting with Chainsaw a few rooms ahead and navigating through the dark surprisingly well. Thankfully, the powers is on some rooms ahead. He looks to you both and snorts, “Damn. Thought you two kicked the bucket.” He says in amusement. 

Sending a grin up his way, you match his energy. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty head, Princess. I’ll be right here with you.” 

Chainsaws nostrils flare, “Would ya quit it, pipsqueak?” He growls, his pale complexion quickly gaining redness in his anger at such an insignificant nickname.  

With a hum, you shake your head, daringly patting the giant mans arm with a soft coo, “Oh, you are adorable! ” This leads to your hair being yanked back by a giant hand, earning a grunt. 

“I told ya. To quit it.” Hot, musty breath wafts into your face, yellowing teeth bared by none other than your Princess. Your hands reach up to his limb that gripped your hair painfully, digging into his skin, and you slam your foot onto his own. Steel-toed boots for the win. He winces and lets go, but on his own terms. “Little bitch.” He glares, turning to continue on, passing a slightly pale Isabella.  

You rub your head, a frown pulling into your features as you send Isabella a look that practically told her to watch what she says about this, not that she was very afraid, just put off by the display. You continue on behind Chainsaw quietly with her.  

The next twenty doors are about the same, the lights may flicker and the three of you rush to a locker or side room occasionally. Isabella was kind enough to teach you of what a Void was, seeing as she had to stop you from getting into a locker with soft noises and a purple hue that you didn’t notice before. 

Now, here you all were at door thirty-four. You enter into a larger room with overturned furniture and crates, and a small click sounds. Isabella grabs your wrist to pull you back into the previous room while Chainsaw quickly ducks behind a table. Confusion and irritation boils in your chest at Isabella until you peak in, spotting two turrets with red pointers scanning the area.  

Well, that’s not good. How the hell were you supposed to do this? When the turrets face away from you, you quickly sprint into the room and slide onto the ground behind a table beside Chainsaw.  

You watch the turrets for a moment, an idea, a cruel one, forming in your head. Slowly, your gaze drifts to Chainsaw, who was readying himself to run to the next piece of overturned furniture. When he goes to move, you suddenly shove him onto the ground out in the open. 

“Ngh- What the h-” The turrets, both of them, lock on him and spew bullets. You make a run for it, making it to the next room and ignoring the screams behind you. When the door snaps open, it seems to trigger the turrets to stop and drop lifelessly. Noticing the sudden silence, you look back to see Chainsaw, a bloody lump on the ground, still and bleeding profusely. Isabella gapes at the sight, having seen the whole ordeal.  

The olive woman hugs herself close, carefully walking around the bloodied mass, her gaze then snaps to you, not daring to say a word of what she witnessed. Though, she does stare for a moment before hurrying past. 

It was silent, whether dreadfully or pleasantly you wouldn’t know. It was tense, and Isabella ended up staying about a room behind you. Each room forward yields more items, such as medkits, flashlights, and research to collect, as well as more activity from the Anglers.  

Of course, nothing can be in routine for long. You search for a keycard in room fifty-two, off in a lab-like side room lined with three tubes. A thud sounds from the hallway and a strangled stream, and you drop the file you held in shock, quickly jogging your way out to see Isabella on the floor, her neck currently getting mauled by a pale, armless being. Once the kill is completed, it clicks at you and runs off hastily, leaving you with a corpse. 

Well, looks like you’re finally alone, like you intended. 

Chapter Text

Door fifty-three. 

That was next.  

Continuing after the unfortunate death of Isabella, after finding the keycard of course, you slip into the next room. Yeah, you’re definitely watching your back more. 

The next room is dark, save for a small floodlight pointed at the wall, or more accurately, a vent. With haste, the vent cover flies across the room, and you jump back, somewhat startled. “Psst! Over here.” A raspy voice whisper-yells. Well, that was something to go towards. Not. 

You stare at the vent for a good moment, and you could’ve sworn your ears were ringing. Actually, not really. It was more like screaming? Screaming. You rub your ear for a moment, confused. It gets louder and the door slams open. Your eyes widen as a pink Angler speeds at you, all you could take in were the four glowing eyes, jagged teeth that could only resemble stalagmites, and react with just a scream as its teeth sink into your body like butter. 

It doesn’t last long, thank god . Though, that had to be the worst five or so seconds of your- now ending- life. At least, that’s how it should’ve been. 

The pain is gone, mostly. A dull ache settles in your strained muscles as your scream sounds with an echo now. A need for breath is what makes you stop, and the lack of that lovely feeling of your flesh torn open was now gone, making you open your eyes with labored breaths. Muffled chatter infiltrates your ears, a real ringing settling in your myringa. You now comprehend a lightness on your back, as in, the diving gear the guard strapped to you was magically gone. Around were others in jumpsuits, a grimace on a few of their faces in your direction while others ignored it. It was the loading bay. 

You mutter a few words of disbelief, quickly moving to a more secluded area with crates and storage items to gather your thoughts. “That’s not normal... Nothing.. Nothing about this-” You choke on a sharp inhale, panic nibbling at your nerves still. Sitting against a wall, you take a moment to think. What is this, ‘Happy Death Day’? Or did some divine being out there give your sorry ass another chance at life? Why? Did you get the opportunity to right the wrongs of your grand heist for the crystal or is the end inevitable? 

Your blurred vision is taken by a pair of, unfortunately familiar, boots. Looking up, Cupcake is there, in all his glory. Man was he pissed. This only served to confuse you further as he went grabbing your collar and lifting you up, an undignified choking sound coming from your throat as he slams you back against the cold wall. “You little, conniving, cheap bitch !” Chainsaw spits out with venom. The man was furious, smoke could comically come out of his flared nostrils and ears, if that was possible. Unfortunately, this wasn't a cartoon, that’d make whatever fucked up situation you found yourself in just a little more bearable. 

You grunt and wince, a hand moving to brace against his arm, “H-... Hey-! Wait, wait, wait!” You wheeze out, trying to recapture air into your lungs. Chainsaw sneers, pulling you forward just to slam you back against the wall, the back of your head thudding onto the thick concrete.  

Chainsaw gets close, uncomfortably so. He must’ve seen it in your face, the way you cringed, because the giant reveled in the look on your face. “ Watch your back. I was sent to die for a reason, and I'm not above fucking up some lowly bitch.” He drops you back down and steps back as you groan, rubbing the back of your head. A sticky, warm substance and searing pain accompanies the motion. He reels his leg back and sends a kick into your side. 

Normally, you would at least try and fight back, maybe make some smart-ass remark to make the situation ten times worse, but your head swam in pain and confusion. A sharp ache pulsed against your brain, first of all, and the feeling of steel-toed boots digging into your ribs just made you want to curl in a ball, which you definitely didn’t do as Chainsaw walked away. Thankfully, the bleeding didn’t last long. Not that that was even in the vicinity of what your mind was occupied with. So, it’s not just you. Chainsaw very clearly remembered the, ahem , accident.  

While your brain overworks to comprehend the situation you found yourself in, softer, slower footsteps approach. You watch as a man, somewhat shorter than yourself, approaches. Damn, did you ever get any alone time? The stranger wore a black jumpsuit adorned with white stripes, rather plain, but you supposed it worked in stealth. He had dirty blond hair and pale skin, reddened in the undertones, along with a rather skinny frame to accompany his dark brown eyes, highlighted by bulky black glasses. He kneels to your level and you all but grunt as you sit up with a deep frown etched into your hollowed features. “Hey, you all good? Don’t know what ya did to piss off that guy, but you look rough.” 

Scoffing, you push up off the ground and stand, humiliatingly shaky on your legs, “I pushed him in front of a turret.” You say indifferently, and he only hums and nods. 

“That’ll do it. I can see why.” He pauses, “My names Charlie.” Charlie holds his hand out for you to shake, but you sigh and brush past him. 

Charlie didn’t seem to care much about your overall demeanor, or he didn’t show if he was affected. “Alright, Charlie, tell me where to get an ice pack around here, yeah?” You ask, walking as the blond didn’t hesitate to follow. 

“Oh! You’re new, aren’t you? Okay, c’mon.” Charlie moves to lead the way, and you frown slightly because, was it really that obvious? The fact made you feel vulnerable in such an unfamiliar situation while everyone else had such a tight grasp on the ropes. Looking around, it was easy to tell. Some people had cliques, discussing strategies, and about nobody seemed to be in such a disarray as you, especially with that utterly embarrassing display earlier. 

There’s a door nearby with a guard posted outside of it, he doesn’t do anything as you both walk through, then, past some stairs, another door which led to a big cafeteria area. Some expendables loitered about, a few eating, and others hanging around. In the back, there was an area to make and get food, the area you’d see a nice older woman serving meals, yet there was nobody. Though, it seemed people came and went back here as they pleased to get what they needed. Charlie leads you back into this area to a freezer room in the back, you stand in the doorway as he grabs a bag of frozen peas to toss over, which you catch and hold against your side, muttering a begrudging ‘thanks’, to which he nods in acknowledgement to, leaving and closing the freezer door. “So, you’re new.” He states, “That run, where you pushed the big guy in front of a turret, was that your first run?” He asks. 

With a sigh, you nod, leaning on the wall, “Yeah. What’s the deal anyways? With this place, I mean. I’m supposed to be dead.” You reluctantly ask. 

Although it’s a somewhat morbid question, Charlie seems to brighten at the inquiry. Perhaps, it was due to you entertaining his mere presence. “I have absolutely no clue.” He grins. “But, again, nobody does. It gets... Disorienting, sure, with time our only goal is to get that crystal and get out, and you’ll learn not to worry about it.” He explains with a slight shrug towards the end. 

You press the ice pack closer to your side, “Okay, then. Is this just, uh, infinite? Or do I have a set number of lives or something?” You felt dumb, so dumb, having to ask these questions. 

Charlie thinks for a moment, “Well, I know some people have died died , but I'm not sure at what life. Who knows? Could be random or under circumstances, god knows Urbanshade doesn’t let up anything on any matter.” He scoffs slightly, and you only nod skeptically. 

You grunt, “Got it.” You mutter in slight annoyance. You’re about to continue before he speaks again. 

“So, what killed you?” He asks casually yet curiously, standing across from you, leaning back on a counter in the sparse kitchen.  

All you could really do was shrug, “Not sure. I think it was a type of Angler. My partner told me about a couple of them earlier...” You explain, “All I heard was screaming with no warning, it took a while, but it got to me.” Suppressing a small shudder at the memory, the teeth, the stench of such a being. It still suffocated your senses in a way. Iron and death.  

Charlie nods, “Ah, that was Pinky. At least your first death was to her, she’s not too bad.” He pushes up his glasses- wait, not too bad ?- and smiles, “She doesn’t flicker the lights. You just need to keep an ear out for her.” He clarifies calmly, “Y’know, we could do a run together. I’d be happy to explain everything to you!” Charlie grins, annoyingly enthusiastic. 

You were quick to shut that down, and it was painfully obvious that you didn’t intend to take up that offer, “Actually, I was gonna find a place to rest first.” You weren’t even tired, if anything, you felt uncharacteristically filled with energy. Maybe it was because you were literally revived . Back to life, it seemed to basically reset you. 

“Oh, gotcha! Follow me.” Charlie chuckles, pushing off the wall to leave the kitchen area of the cafeteria, and the cafeteria itself, “You never told me your name, by the way.” 

Reluctantly, you follow the man and give your name, keeping a distance. He didn’t seem to care. “Lovely. There’s some dorms up here. What’s your number?” He inquires, stopping in front of a staircase with the floors labelled on a small sign next to it. 

You furrow your eyebrows for a moment before looking to a patch on your jumpsuits left breast, under the Urbanshade symbol, “Oh. 342.” You reply, to which Charlie let out a small hum, starting to climb the stairs. “Got it. Third floor, hallway four.” He mutters, as if thinking to himself. After a, somewhat taxing, trek up three flights of stairs, the two of you get to the third floor. There was one hallway per wall, labelled one to four.  

Charlie looks around and heads over to the fourth corridor, and right on the left was a door with a sign labelled ‘two’. “Here. This should be your room.” He speaks. 

You try to open the door, but it was locked. Charlie taps your arm, to which you cringe somewhat, he then gestures to a small, sleek black pad under the sign, “It’s fingerprint activated.” He informs you, “Your thumb.” He clarifies after a moment.  

With a sigh, you press your dominant hands thumb to the screen until it beeps and the door clicks. You try the handle again and the steel door opens. You’re about to go inside, but hesitate, turning to face Charlie who smiled at you enthusiastically.  

Geez, did this guy have a neuron that had the capacity to comprehend the situation at hand?  

“Uh, thanks. I’ll see you around.” You reluctantly express your gratitude, although sourly. 

Charlie, of course, didn’t care, though. “Of course! Have a good rest, maybe we can do that run later.” He says, and you just nod and slowly close the door on him. 

With that, you glance around the room after switching on the lights, the dorm was lined in cold, concrete walls. It looked like a hotel room, just with that classic Urbanshade touch to it. It was monochrome, save for the occasional navy-blue accent. A queen bed sat against the wall, a black comforter with one big white stripe draped neatly over it. Across from it was a dresser with a screen laid on it, seeming to be bolted into the counter itself. A closet, shut with a curtain, was beside the dresser, within, there were two bathrobes. Beside the bed laid a nightstand, as well as a black lamp on top. In the hallway leading into the bedroom area, was a door. Going in, you could see it led to a bathroom. The floor was black marble, a big, expansive mirror sat over a sink that matched the cold floor. A black bathtub sat against the wall with a black curtain covering the inside. There were already the necessities in there, body wash and shampoo, with a washcloth. The room was complete by a pair of dark grey towels on a rack. 

You close the bathroom door and sigh, going to flop onto the bed. 

There was a lot of information to take in, and you’d be damned if you left this room before comprehending what the ever-loving fuck you got yourself into. 

Chapter Text

Your fingers slide across the screen, specifically the one that was bolted flat down to the countertop. There was a shop of sorts, on the bottom left corner of the screen was a currency amount, you currently had twenty-three of this Kroner.  

You had taken a shower and cleaned the blood from your hair, but a migraine remained ever-so present, pounding rhythmically into your skull. 

Quickly, you learned where those jumpsuits came from, and these people must’ve been down here for quite a bit with how much of a pretty penny they were.  

The reason Urbanshade even implemented this? The rooms and necessities that weren’t given in prison? Probably to stop their expendables from revolting or something. Though, they are, keyword, expendable. With that, however, it would’ve been a hassle to deal with a riot of these criminals. Best not to think too hard on it. 

Honestly, you just wanted to hole up in this room forever, but that wasn’t why you were here. They’d end up sending you back to your death, anyways, if you did nothing. 

With that thought in mind, accompanied by a few hours of debriefing yourself, you leave the room, the lock clicking automatically behind you. The halls are relatively quiet, save for a guard or expendable. You go back the way you came, back to the loading docks in a trance. The nerves in you tingled in anxiety and anticipation, but you pushed on with the constant internal reminder that you can’t- won’t- die. 

Steeling these nerves, you trudge over to the submarine docks.  

Someone catches your wrist, and your head snaps over to see Charlie, beaming ear to ear. “Hey! Glad I caught ya. Guess we get to do that run I talked about, huh?” He asks enthusiastically. 

You sigh and nod, “Guess so.” You mutter, pulling your arm back and continuing. A guard comes over and you both stop as he grabs a couple sets of diving gear. You still had no clue what that red, blinking light was. Swallowing your pride, you glance over to Charlie as the guard gets you both settled with the packs. “What even is this?” You scoff, gesturing to the light on the neck area of the diving gear. 

Charlie chuckles, “Geez, they really did give up on explaining to the newbies.” He says comically, only to be met with a deadpan stare. The blond clears his throat, “There's a bomb in it.” Charlie casually shrugs. 

With widened eyes, you look to him incredulously, “Uh, excuse me? A bomb?!” The guard steps back into position when you’re set, and you adjust the straps of the detonator-diving device pressing on your bruised side. 

Cringing, Charlie sighs, “Well, a detonator. I guess. It’s for if we’re like, misbehaving or staying in one spot too long down there.” He explains. 

You suddenly felt very unsafe with this on your back, but you swallow down the tension, as much as you could. “... Okay, then.” You inhale sharply. You adjust yourself and move on into a submarine, sitting on a bench with Charlie not far behind, unfortunately sitting beside you. 

To your relief, nobody else bothered to join you two. 

The submarine door closes after a good moment and it descends into the water, back to the Blacksite. This ride is much quieter on your end, no mockery to your partner, no hysterical laughter at some stupid, self-given, gang name, just the hum of the submarines journey. After a couple minutes, Charlie stands and goes to a screen you failed to notice the first time in here. He inputs a code, his prisoner number tailored into his jumpsuit, and logs into a shop. You watch as he purchases two medkits, as well as a lantern. 

Huh, that looked helpful, it’d probably be best to keep that in mind for later. When done, he sits back down beside you, humming calmly to himself as he waits. 

When the door opens and the ramp pushes out, you can’t help but notice you were in a different starting area than before, “Wait, wait, where are we? This isn’t where I started before.” You look around, confused. 

Charlie sighs, “Yeah, Urbanshade likes to experiment with different drop-off points. Something about heightening our chances.” He shrugs, heading away from the entrance into the labyrinth that awaited, and instead to a crate with a flare signaling its location. He crouches down and opens it to get his items, when a gravelly, annoyed voice speaks through a walkie talkie beside it. 

“You are wasting your money!” The voice drawled condescendingly. The speaker sounded very vaguely familiar, probably an Urbanshade worker you’ve heard somewhere on the way in. 

You grunt, “What asshole leaves a walkie talkie just to be a dick?” You scoff out, a grimace on your face as you eye the walkie talkie.  

Charlie straps the items to his diving gear, calm, “Just that. An asshole.” He sighs, then turns to go grab the keycard, getting past some fallen crates and coming back with the key. 

Leaving the conversation at that, you both move on and into the first room, beginning the long journey to that damned crystal. Charlie begins to speak, probably just to speak. You tune it out for the most part, cautiously going from room to room. You do, however, catch on that retrieving those, ‘loose assets’ Urbanshade mentioned, secondary to the main objective, did earn you extra Kroner. 

So, you begin gathering it, rather greedily as well. As in, snatching up research before your partner could grab it. The blond submitted to this, letting you grab all the research. This guy really let you walk all over him, huh? 

Good to know.  

To dig a bit further into this- and fill your boredom- you test this out. You drop a file, clearly on purpose and right in front of you, whilst the other sat across the room. Sighing, you grunt, “Pick that up for me, would ya?” You request, although it sounded more of a demand. 

Charlie looks over, and you almost miss the twitch in his brow. He hums, “Alrighty!” He didn’t look bothered, it was weird. He approaches and picks up the singular file, right in front of you, and hands it out for you to grab and take back. Freak .  

This earns him a look of disbelief and a grimace, slowly taking the file and tucking it away. Without another word about this, you push on and into the next room.  

“So, you said somethin’ about a debrief? Explaining all-” You gesture around, “- of this?”  

The smaller male grins, nodding. With that, the next hour or three is him going on and on about all the creatures and experiments at the top of his mind, beside the occasional Angler passing by. Thankfully, the light was put to use, and what you learned to be an Eyefestation, to which the medkit came to use in your case. Not fun. The Eyefestation brought your migraine up a few notches after looking at it for mere seconds, and you had to pop some painkillers. 

You listen to Charlie, despite the constant talking pressing away at your buttons. You did prompt this, couldn’t blame him this time. 

With some time, the path gained familiarity. Seems like you both joined back into your previous path, oddly enough. A few doors after this was that room. Fifty-three, the room you died at. 

The floodlight brings back memories, and you frown, taking a step back as the vent flies across the room. 

“Runnin’ low on supplies?” A gruff voice calls out, the same one from last time, and you quickly connected it to the mystery dickwad on the walkie talkie. 

You don’t move to the vent when Charlie does, “Are you seriously going in there?” You cross your arms, “Sounds like a death sentence in a place like this.”  

Charlie shrugs, “He’s safe, mostly. C’mon.” He gives you a reassuring smile, waving you over. 

Rolling your eyes, you shuffle over and kneel down, indignantly following him into the vent. The room on the other side was dark until you both step in, until a light flickers on, making you squint on the intrusion to your senses. An angler light. The sight before you twisted your expression into disbelief and a hint of worry. 

What beheld you was a raven-haired creature, three glowing blue eyes staring down at the two of you. His gear-ridden tail lined the wall, scaly and grey, while his- albeit less prominently scaly, but still scaly- skin, was a lighter, bluer color. A sharp-toothed grin adorned his face, fins sticking out of his hair like ears. The lure on his head occasional flickered, but lit the small room up well enough to have your brain pound harder on your skull. The fish-man wore a white, formal shirt, and brown coat, both messily altered to accommodate a third arm that rested on his left side on its lonesome as the other two were clasped together, sharp and no doubt dangerous.  

A radio, not tuned into any frequency, lay on a table with the keycard you’d need beside it. A shelf held various items and gear, as well as a desk near him that had batteries and a file laid upon it. 

He looks between you two and his grin widens, “Didn’t get this one killed, hm?” He chuckles, then quickly continues before you could express your confusion and annoyance, “I’ll make this quick considering your friends already met me before. Names Sebastian -” He snarks, “-and I am just a local, selling his wares, in exchange for any research you probably stumbled upon already before getting here.” He pauses as you digest the information, “Simple enough, right? Items are on my tail, batteries on the desk next to me, and the keycards on the table beside the radio.” 

You could only stare at him as and when he’s done speaking, this was a lot. You were beginning to learn not to question absolutely everything down here, but couldn’t help the words tumbling out of your mouth at the sight of him. “Wow. I-... Geez, what happened?”  

Sebastians three eyes widen and his hands clasp tighter together, his smile widening and straining. Charlie stops browsing the materials. “Pardon me, friend?” The creature grits out. 

“No, no, I'm so deadass. Were you born like this or something? Holy shit.” You just couldn’t shut your mouth, something you’d blame the haze in your brain on. Sebastians lower hands fingers twitched down, towards a holstered gun on his belt. 

The room was so silent for a good few moments, “Make your purchases, you piece of shark bait expendable.” Sebastian insults in a low voice. “You’ll be back, time and time again. You’re really butchering an important first impression.” 

You hum, “Yeah, I’ll be back. Not too many times, I'm sure.” You cross your arms, eyeing Sebastian. 

The fish-man snickers, “You think you’re getting out of here? That’s completely and utterly idiotic. You’re just a number, part of a hive mind of other expendable-” He spits the word out, “ - puny little statistics.” Sebastian growls, leaning forward and clenching his jaw. 

Charlie looked uncomfortable, unfathomably so. He had a small bit of research that he got before you started collecting, and cuts into the conversation. “I... Uh, I'll take a few batteries.” He mumbles and holds out the research. 

Sebastians gaze cuts to him and he takes the research, keeping it in a tight grip and letting Charlie take two batteries.  

You scoff and grab the keycard, now biting your tongue. What other reaction did he expect? That wasn’t normal at all. Okay, maybe it was disrespectful, by a lot, but that snide comment before even introducing himself was, too! How’d the guy even know about that?! 

With this defense in the front of your mind, you look at the items on his tail, though, you remember that this research gets you Kroner. Shit. You really wanted that flashlight with the crank. You had plenty, but didn’t want to spend it. Glancing up at Sebastian, you’d see he was shuffling through the research Charlie gave him with a deep frown. Carefully, you grab the item from his tail, slowly unclipping it.  

You get it off his tail when he looks to you with a glare, “Paying for that?” Sebastian grunts. 

With a long stare, you stand there with the item in hand, thinking hard. You then reach for your research, though your movements are false as you dive for the vent. 

The last thing ringing in your ears was a click and bang.   

Chapter Text

In the loading docks gasping for breath, you open your eyes as the migraine was sharpened to the front of your brain. A shame that stayed after your death.  

Great, you died, clearly. The fish-faced fucker shot you right in the dome. 

You run your hands through your hair, feeling the tender spot still present on the back of your head from earlier, then, press a hand to the bruise on your side. Still painful, and yet no bullet hole to be found. Weird. 

Charlie was still alive, which you didn’t know if the fact was good or bad. For one, he was a bit of a nuisance and a chatterbox, and for some reason hellbent on sticking by you. Then again, that made him easy. Just easy. During that run with him, he let you walk all over him like a damn lackey would. 

Maybe a solo run would be good, just to see how you’d do on your own. Depending on how that goes, you might just end up bringing the blond around more. 

With that goal in mind, you begin to head to the docking stations of the submarines 

Your name is shouted behind you from a distance, your full name. Jolting somewhat, you turn on your heel to face the source. A woman approaches, scrawny with hollowed-out features, probably in her mid-forty's. “That’s you- isn't it.” It wasn't a question, but a statement, “Yeah... Yeah, that’s you. I’ve seen you on the news.” 

You square your shoulders, crossing your arms, “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your teeth were gritted tensely. The commotion brings over a few others, lingering near to see the unfolding drama. Just what you needed, the situation you found yourself in years ago was quite public, but you didn’t think it was this public. 

The woman scratches the back of her head and shakes it, “My brother- He... He bought your product, y’know. He’s dead now.” She laughs incredulously. 

People were dropping like flies all over the states, specifically, drug addicts.  

“On the counts of mass genocide, death by distribution-” The judge speaks your name after listing a few more unlawful wrongdoings, “-Is guilty. The charges for the crimes committed is the sentence of death.”  

Your ears begin to ring as you sit for what felt like hours, until you’re escorted out of the court room, wrists held in front of you; shackled and unmoving.  

A mass murderer. That’s what you were. Considering your influence and superiority, it was obvious. You didn’t expect any help in this; you were completely and utterly fucked . Easily replaceable, you didn’t deserve any help. Urbanshade sought differently.  

A sharp pain blooms across your cheek, the slap echoing in the busy room. You shut your eyes and clench your jaw, fists tight at your side.  

The woman scoffs, “Weak...” She mutters and slaps you again. This sets you off, and you yell and tackle the woman to the ground. Her eyes widen in shock as she let out a yelp, but she quickly steels herself and went to bite the arm holding her down. You grunt and rip your arm back, elbowing her in the face and busting her brittle teeth. With adrenaline, though, she kicks you in the stomach and you grunt, weakened for a small moment. That’s all it takes and she’s on you this time, gripping and pulling your hair back painfully and sending a punch to your jaw. She was light and pretty weak, probably a former junkie herself. You growl and struggle, sending a punch to her throat to make her gag and choke, letting go at the assault. Your eyes widen at the opportunity, and you wrap your hands strongly around her neck, squeezing the flesh like a stress-toy, and in this moment; it was.

She claws at your arms and hands, leaving angry marks where her nails nicked your skin. “I’d do it a- fucking- gain! You hear me, bitch? You hear me?!” You yell at the girl; she grows red in the face as she loses precious oxygen. 

You only stop when she goes limp on top of you, folding in on herself in her unconsciousness. You kick her from yourself and shakily stand, walking away from her, shoulder checking a random viewer on the way out when they wouldn’t get out of your way. 

Fuck, this was bad. The bitch recognized you, who knows who else would? That’d be a problem. You couldn’t go to your room even if you wanted, you could be followed or something.  

Going to the submarines, you let a guard get you suited with the diving gear before getting into a submarine, keeping your head low. You were very fortunate and got your wish; a solo run. Nobody else joined after that display. 

You get to a new location to start in, unfamiliar, of course. You search for a bit and find the keycard, starting the wade through the maze. For some reason, this route is harder. 

Good People. Charlie spoke of them, and you learned what they looked like now. Giant monstrous creatures hidden in false rooms with a cutesy mask to complement its grotesqueness. You limp on from here, shaken and gripping your side, blood dripping from your wound and spilling between your fingers. 

Dammit, that shit hurt! You may, basically, be immortal, but you could most certainly feel pain.  

Eventually, though, you’re put swiftly out of your misery when you walk through a door. All you remember is a burning, searing pain and an explosion of sorts before your back in the loading bay. 

Well then, maybe you should try that again. 

Repeatedly, you die. You might just be a little trash at this. Tripwires, landmines, turrets, Anglers, they all were practically out to get you it seemed. You mean- When were there ever these many bombs?! You also learned that swimming was a great asset, underwater rooms were actually more common than you thought. 

Now here you sat, in the cafeteria, sipping on a cardboard box of orange juice found in the fridge, brows furrowed in irritation. Your eye catches Charlie approaching cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from you. “Hey!” He greets enthusiastically. 

You sigh and crumple the box in your hand, “Hey. How’d the rest of the run go?” You question gruffly, not too concerned about that at all, really. Until the next thing he said. 

“Oh! I almost got to the crystal. Died in the room before it, though.” Charlie laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say, are you alright? You look a little... Beaten up.” He points out, reaching out to gently feel the bruise, but you smack his hand back with a scoff. Those marks stayed after death, unfortunately, so you were stuck with them. 

You cross your arms, “I’m fine. You said you almost got to the crystal?” You push on, leaning forward across the table. 

A small pout forms on Charlie's face, and he nods, “Yeah, I mean, it isn’t that hard to get close. Never actually got it, though.” He shrugs indifferently. You, however, think otherwise. Standing up, you abandon the crumpled juice box and grab his arm, leaving the cafeteria and dragging him along. 

“C’mon. One more run.” You mutter, walking quickly onto the docks. The two of you get suited up with the diving gear and hastily onto a submarine. 

Charlie watches you, an eyebrow raised as you sit on the bench of the submarine. “What’s this about? You do know we don’t have to always-”  

You interrupt him with a sneer, “Yes, yes, I know. I want to.” You counter, noticing the small downwards quirk of his lip. 

Charlie quickly pushes back and masks his irritation, “Yeah... Uh, alright.” He responds slowly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He doesn’t question any further, and the submarine dings as it opens at the destination. Getting out of the underwater vehicle, you get the keycard and collect whatever loose assets you can.  

It looks like Charlie got more items for this trip, you could hear Sebastians voice from the walkie talkie complaining about wasting his time as you approach. You kneel and pick it up, pressing a button and holding it down as Charlie looked to you in confusion. You inhale deeply and scream, high pitched, into the walkie talkie, then strap it to the belt loop of your jumpsuit. 

Charlie jumped when you screamed, eyes wide. You snicker at his reaction and gesture for him to follow. You know those fin-ears of Sebastians must’ve been sensitive. High school marine biology taught you that fish fins and ears are very, very sensitive to sound. You hope that applied to your friend, and that the walkie talkie was close enough to hurt .  

After a moment, an irritated and strained voice speaks into the walkie talkie, “What... The fuck... Was that for...?” He all but growls, static lacing his voice. You don’t respond back, using the keycard on the first door and walking in with Charlie behind you. “Are you fucking-” He sputters in confusion, “-dumb or something?!” 

You grin as you continue walking, and the walkie quiets now. The satisfaction you felt from pissing off the shopkeeper was unexplainable. 

“That... He already doesn’t like you. He could kill you again.” Charlie inputs, and you scoff. 

Collecting data and research from this room, you shrug. “He can suck it up.” You mumble. 

You both go room to room, continuing on. Charlie finds the keycard to the next room, and you wait by the door as he begins to open it. Oddly enough, there was shuffling and the sound of metal clanking before the door opens. You go to head in first, but stop in your tracks. Land mines. Absolutely everywhere. All at once, maybe a few or so with a delay, they beep. It was almost comical if this room wouldn’t kill you immediately. If one goes off, the rest surely do in the explosion. There was a small path in them and you swallow, carefully, very carefully, you step into the room and follow the path. 

With a grimace, Charlie follows, “Oh yeah, he definitely doesn’t like you.” He mumbles. 

You stop abruptly and whip you head around, “That fucking piece of- He put these here?” You question in exasperation. You’ve been coming across these landmines so much more often in the last few runs. That was absolute bullshit. 

Charlie sighs and nods as you both exit the room, stumbling into the next quickly. 

Of course, it’s just your luck when a click sounds in the room, and bullets pellet at you in fast succession. One digs itself into your thigh and you yell out, leaping for cover behind a couch as Charlie, untouched, follows hastily. 

You breathe heavily and quickly unzip your jumpsuit with a little bit of struggle with the straps. Pulling the sleeves under your butt, you wrap it around your upper thigh in awkward positioning. You wince at the tightness, knowing you won’t be able to move your leg correctly, but it was better than bleeding out, considering you had no clue what the hell that bullet hit. Now, you were stuck in a black undersuit with the pants of the jumpsuit still on appropriately. 

Charlie cringes at the sight of blood pouring from the wound, though it’d slow soon, “You... Really know what you’re doing, huh...?” He mutters.  

Grunting, you huff, “T- Turn off the turret. I can’t get to the door with a tourniquet on in time.” You explain shakily behind gritted teeth. Charlie nods in understanding, appearing hesitant to leave your side. He does leave though, sneaking under the turret where the switch was and pulling it down. The whir quiets and the gun drops lifelessly. 

You brace your hands behind you, pushing off the couch and using your good leg to get you standing, the other leg stiff and straight from how the tourniquet was applied. 

A good tourniquet should immobilize the whole limb, so at least you’re doing it right. 

With that, you limp over to the next door. Charlie quickly comes to your side and lifts your arm around his shoulders, a hand on your waist. You jolt back, a growl bubbling in your throat, but grumble and let it be when walking was much easier. 

Fortunately, the next rooms had a fair share of side rooms to hide in from Anglers, so you didn’t have to bother with the speed to find a locker. Charlie, humiliatingly enough, was rather helpful in keeping you safe.  

Eventually, the path intersects with a familiar, older one, leading to the dark room lit up by a floodlight, pointed at a vent. The vent flies across the room and Sebastian beckons the two of you inside. 

Charlie helps you over, carefully letting go so you could get down and crawl through stiffly, and he follows behind. 

“- So I nicked her at least- I think... But she should be there soon, just a heads up.” A grating voice speaks into Sebastian's walkie talkie.  

His eyes zero in on your rather pitiful form, and he grunts, “ Thanks ... I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter Text

Sebastian was bored. Yeah, he was bored out of his mind.  

That was why he bothered with his spiteful traps towards the little expendable that had offended him so easily.  

Being a serpent-whale-fish-angler-thing stuck in a massacred and overrun underwater laboratory surprisingly wasn’t that entertaining, at least after the first few months.  

Expendables often gawked at his appearance, sure, it was a little annoying, but he grew used to it. Now you, you were in the top three most upfront about it. This led to his new form of entertainment, and they didn’t call him ‘The Saboteur’ for nothing.  

Sebastian talked to Painter, the little AI in this place that he could somewhat stand the presence of. He described you, the basic jumpsuit, the hair, eyes, or whatever he could remember. This led to Painter absolutely pulverizing anyone with those characteristics.  

Though, this run, you got to his shop. Your pathetic form crawled through the vent into the other side with amazing timing as he was finishing up a conversation with Painter about your escape from him. The top of your jumpsuit was unzipped and the sleeves pulled under your bottom and around your leg as some shitty tourniquet that worked somehow, leaving you in the bottom half of the jumpsuit and the black undersuit underneath.  

The bottom of your jumpsuit was stained in dried blood and ripped a bit on your thigh, where the wound was.  

You narrow your gaze as you process the conversation you had just overheard a snippet of.  

That fucker. That mother fucker!  

It was so damn obvious that you were being targeted! You slowly stand, refusing to lean on a wall for your own pride as you glare at him. “Seriously?” You start, irritation coating your tone, “That is so pathetic.” Charlie crawls out after you, standing and dusting himself off.  

Sebastian scoffs, a grin on his face, “Yes, I’m the pathetic one.” He gestures to your injury with antagonizing glee in his glowing eyes.  

You roll your eyes in annoyance, attempting to suppress a limp and going to Sebastians tail to look at the items available. Charlie tries to grab you again to help out, though you quickly shrug him off this time.  

With a watchful eye, Sebastian makes sure you don’t attempt to steal anything again, and you don’t. Instead, you genuinely wanted to get that medkit on his tail. You sigh and get the research you had from your jumpsuit. Although you didn’t gather much this time, the things you did get ahold of were somewhat valuable. Pulling out the currency, you hold it out, “I’m getting the medkit... And...” You hesitate, then spot some file sitting on the desk beside him, you point to it, “That. Whatever it is.” You were now curious; he didn’t keep any other files just out really. Maybe the occasional hard drive, but that was it.  

Sebastian laughs, “Ha! Absolutely not. That is about 1500 in research, pal.” This earns a confused look from Charlie and an indifferent sigh from you.  

“Alright, asshole. The flash beacon, then.” You respond, “Cheap-o.” You add on quietly.  

Sebastian hums, snatching up the research, he looks through it for a moment. “Getting by by a hair, are we?” He teases condescendingly, picking up the items from his tail before you could, and tossing them to you.  

You grunt and catch the items, clipping the flash beacon to your belt loop and popping open the medkit. You sit against the wall, much to Sebastians dismay, and reach for the small hole in the jumpsuit pants, where the wound was. Ripping it open, your greeted with the nasty, full sight of a bullet wound.  

Chalie kneels beside you, wordlessly grabbing a small bottle of antiseptic from the medkit and a cloth. You frown at him and go to voice your annoyance, but Sebastian beats you to it. “Don’t loiter. Finish up and get out .” He all but growls.  

You bite back the urge to retort, to correct the fish-man on what loitering was. You bought items, so technically you weren’t loitering. A searing pain burns through your leg, and you grit your teeth as Charlie pats the antiseptic into the wound.  

Neither of you would bother with removing the actual bullet or stitching up the wound. It was unnecessary. It’s not like you’d live long enough to get out of here. Even if you did, with the money you got, the bill to get it out was nothing.  

With that, the wound gets cleaned and then wrapped tightly in a bandage. You untie the sleeves from around your thigh and redress your torso in the top half of the jumpsuit, only then realizing how damn cold you were. Thank god for adrenaline.  

Once your thigh was bandaged, you sigh and move to try and stand carefully. Charlie's hand invades your vision; an offer. He stood before you, and you reluctantly take his hand and let him help you up.  

“Great, you can leave now.” Sebastian crosses his upper arms, his tail flicking irritably against the wall.  

You ignore his attempt to rush you both out, unclipping the flash beacon from your belt loop, “What does this even do?” You fidget with it, trying to figure it out.  

Sebastian groans, “You really are a total idi-” He’s cut off by his own yell of irritation and pain as the beacon fires the power of the fucking sun into his retinas.  

You wince, genuinely not meaning to do that. Sure, you could’ve deduced what a flash beacon did, though that wasn't as easy when you lost a couple liters of blood. Charlie looked mortified, grabbing your arm, “Oh- Let’s... Yeah, let’s go.” He cringes, leading you over to the vent, but your snatched from his grasp by a fuming Sebastian.  

Sebastian had a hand wrapped tightly around your neck, a sneer painted on his face, displaying his razor-sharp pearly whites. You make a sound, choking at the sudden assault. His grip tightens, his other hand grasping the end of the flash beacon and crushing it in his grip. He drops it, “Do that again, and I’ll gut you like the pig you are...” He snarls like a feral animal. And that, he practically was.  

You squirm in the hold, feet kicking out at him. Both of your hands grip onto his, clawing at the small scales, some come up and fall, surprisingly fragile, shedding from the limb. This angers him more, clearly, because he sends you flying back into the shelf from a simple toss, much like he was tossing out an insignificant piece of trash. That was really what you were to him, after all.  

Gasping for breath, you bring a hand up to rest on your chest. Sebastian was looking down at his claws, finding them much more interesting than you at the moment. You sit up, then carefully stand. Thankfully, your side only ached when you moved a certain way, that would’ve sucked to waste that medkit. Charlie waits beside the vent, looking mildly worried at your condition. His shoulders relax, however, seeing you get up alright, only accompanied by a limp from your side and the previous wound.  

Charlie lets you go first; you kneel and crawl through the vent, sucking up your pride for the moment. You get up on the other side and dust yourself off, then press a hand to your side. It’d definitely bruise if given the opportunity, but you’d, realistically and again, probably die before then.  

When Charlie’s out of the vent after you, you’re already going to the door. Thankfully, the blond remembered the keycard, because you totally forgot. He scans it, and you both continue on.  

You both were completely silent. If you weren’t in the mood to talk before, you certainly weren’t now. Charlie could tell, and he complied to the atmosphere.  

A couple rooms pass until you find the next door unavailable, a hole in the ground led down into water, and you cringe. “We... Have to go down there?” You question.  

Charlie nods, “Yup.” He puts the diving mask over his face, “Hope you know how to swim!” He jokes and chuckles.  

You hesitate, remaining silent for a moment. You knew, because of the obvious presence of diving gear and underwater-ness, you’d be swimming. You didn’t exactly comprehend that.  

Slowly, Charlie looks over at your silence. Although not unnatural, after a comment like that, it told him one thing. “Shit.” You swore you could’ve heard a hint of irritation in his voice, directed at you.  

“I can... Try?” You haven’t sounded this unsure about anything so far.  

Charlie sighs, “We’re lucky you can’t really die, because you’re gonna have to.” He mumbles, running a hand down his face. He sits on the edge of the hole, holding a hand out as you get the diving mask over your face, the rubber tugging uncomfortably at your hair.  

You sit beside him, hesitantly taking his hand. Charlie then slides in, followed by you.  

The cold water holds you in its icy embrace, causing you to tense up and go still in shock for a moment. You see Charlie hovering in front of you, getting used to the water as well.  

The room down in the water still had electricity, surprisingly, and the cabinets, lockers, and such, floated around in a sense of earie calmness. You kick your legs, the pressure of the water on your chest heavy. You didn’t get far with the movement, and Charlie tightens his grip on your hand, pulling you- with some struggle- along. Kicking your legs, you try to help.  

Your ears failed to pick up most sound, and if so, it was very muddy and muffled.  

The two of you fail to notice the lights flickering when entering a dark room, as there were no lights in there, only behind the both of you. While Charlie and yourself searched for a keycard needed for the next room, an Angler barrels through the door. Charlie- luckily for him- was in a side room.  

Teeth meet flesh, once more.  

Back to the lobby you were sent, the pain in your side and leg dulled to nothing, which you were eternally grateful for at the moment. Much like every time, you gasp in some breaths of air, chest uncomfortably tight from that meeting with the face of your death.  

A death from an Angler was swift, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of teeth tearing through you like a hot knife to butter.  

Although, it was unfortunate that you died, once more, you got further than ever before.  

With that, you head on back to your dorm. Even though your energy was rejuvenated, you were mentally exhausted. That was nap-worthy in your book.  

You recount your way back to your room. Floor three, fourth hall, second door. On the way up, you pass two men in the stairwell. Chainsaw, and some other man. Chainsaw hands over an item, and the man takes it, sneakily passing back something in return.  

Holy shit. They were stupid. Brilliant, but stupid. It was an obvious drug deal, but the fact they even got any down here was extraordinary. It was so. Fucking. Obvious. They didn’t have a system, just meet and pass. It was like they were begging to get caught.  

You shake your head and continue on, mind swimming with the thought of whatever the hell they had. Of course, you had your preferences, but down here, you weren’t picky. Not one bit.  

With Chainsaw in the back of your mind, you go to your room, scanning your finger and going inside.  

Chapter Text

You zip up the front of your new jumpsuit, adjusting it to fit your frame perfectly.  

The base of the jumpsuit was nice, medium brown, accented with a pale, dull yellow, and dark green stripes at the shoulders. It was labelled ‘Rotten Tree’ in the shop on the screen in your room, but it looked nice to you. It didn’t stand out like the other jumpsuits, but made you not feel so horribly bland.  

It had been a few days since you caught on to the drug smuggling down here, and you felt you could really use something to take the edge off. Chainsaw was surprisingly hard to find, however, so you’ve been spending your time in the Hadal Blacksite, collecting loose assets for more Kroner.  

You had no clue how Urbanshade even got all that research after your death, but you decided not to question it. So much didn’t make sense down here.  

Charlie had become more bearable with time, and very helpful. He let you take the research in every run, as well as buying items in the beginning. Of course, with that, you’d bug Sebastian on the walkie talkie. Whenever you got to his shop- if not dead from his traps or the dumb robot controlling the turrets- you made sure to annoy the hell out of him, though not to the point he’d kill or hurt you, you knew what buttons not to push now.  

You head to the cafeteria; the place you’d often meet Charlie at. Not many people hung around there often, so it was a shock when the man you were looking for previously, caught your eye, leaning against the wall with a paper water cup in hand.  

Glancing to the side, you note Charlie sitting at the usual spot, already looking to you. You hold up a finger to signal him to wait a moment, and head on over to Chainsaw. “Hey, pal! Buddy. Chain.” You call, waving at him.  

Chainsaw looks over, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. He then frowns at the sight of you, muttering something under his breath. When you make your way over, he sets the cup down and stands up straighter, crossing his arms. “What do you want?” He questions, rightfully hostile to you.  

You cringe at his tone, stopping in front of him, “Come on, we don’t need to have bad blood, right?” You chuckle with an uneasy grin on your face.  

The brute only raises an eyebrow at you.  

Clearing your throat, you hesitate, “... Okay, then.” You mumble, “I know you don’t owe me anything, not even this small favor I’m gonna ask.” You start carefully, eyes widening when Chainsaw scoffs and turns away to walk away. You quickly get in front of him, “I’ll get to the point!” You continue quickly, then lower your voice, “I saw you and your buddy in the hall a few days ago. Couldya put in a good word for me?” You put on a voice sweet as sugar, the sound sickening to your own ears and unnatural.  

You knew how this worked, you needed connections. You can’t just walk up the guy and be like, ‘Hello sir! I’m here to buy your finest whatever-your-selling!’ No way.  

Chainsaw looked irritated, understandably. He just got outed on something that nobody was clearly meant to notice. It was obvious the dealer wasn’t Chainsaw; he just didn’t rub you as the type as much as the other guy. He scoffs incredulously, “Like hell I’d do that.” He grunts, glaring down at you.  

With a sigh, you keep trying, “Come on. I know I might’ve been a bitch and... Yeah, pushed you in front of a turret. But that was my first run! I didn’t know there was a switch! I was just trying to survive.” You attempt to reason, throwing out an excuse, “I’m sorry!” You were practically begging, and it was pathetic. You felt pathetic and looked it. This was a whole new low.  

You grab onto his arm, “C’mon, Saw-man. I could really use it.” The switch up was definitely uncanny. Man, the things substances will make you do.  

Chainsaw rips his arm back, “Fuck. Fine. Christ, just-... Just never do that shit again. It’s weird.” He grunts. “He takes five ferryman tokens for a gram of crystal.” He rubs his face, obviously reluctant to tell you this. You clearly weren’t a narc or someone doing favors for Urbanshade, so there wasn’t much harm in giving his buddy some revenue.  A look of confusion comes across your face, and he groans, “In the shop. The one you get jumpsuits from. It’s 900 Kroner for five with the deal.” Chainsaw clarifies.  

With a quick nod, you grin. “Great-” You go to keep talking, but he cuts you off.  

“-I am not doin’ this for you, lady . My guy wants those tokens. ’m just advertisin’.” Chainsaw growls, still not a fan of you. That made total sense. This was just business. “I’ll give him your number. When you’re ready, he’s usually on the stairway between floors two and three of the dorms.” He explains.  

You nod once more, “Got it. I’ll see ya around, Saw-man.” You wink and do some finger-guns, clicking your tongue. Chainsaw just grunts, rolling his eyes as you uncharacteristically walk with a pep in your step, away to Charlie. Time to earn some Kroner.  

You and Charlie get back to the Hadal Blacksite, beginning the next run. You focus on collecting research rather than getting far, not like it’d be easy to with Sebastian and the AI ruining your runs.  

You lay on the hard mattress in your cell, the moonlight shining in from the barred window, out of your reach.  

It had been a week since your conviction, and everything about this was hell.  

Your skin glistened with sweat in the cold room, you felt so damn exhausted, yet unable to sleep. You were incredibly warm and feverish, but that didn’t matter to any guards, you were just another piece of shit rotting where they deserved. Your heart beats into your ears, loud and overwhelming your senses. Goosebumps litter your skin as you fight back a wave of nausea, your abdomen cramping as you let out a pained groan. This was withdrawal.  

You’ve dabbled in many different substances, but heroin was your choice in poison.  

Scratches ruined the skin of your arms and neck, roughening up your flesh. One of the many signs of your want... Your need.  

The knowledge you’d pay for the crimes with your life only added to the stress and anxiety you felt. You groan and roll over, coughing horribly before the vile taste of vomit assaults your tongue. A fat splat sounds in the empty cell and looking down at the concrete ground with hazy vision, you see the very-liquid evidence of your nausea. It was just straight stomach acid; you hadn’t had an appetite at all lately.  

You were itching for anything to fix this. To get back to your normal.  

Alright, that should be the last run you needed.  

You’ve been gathering research for a few days, obviously taking breaks after a few and such, but you had enough to get those ferryman tokens.  

This really brought you back to the good old days, before you got big in the business. You’d work a dead-end job as a pet groomer, taking care of animals and saving up just for a taste of delicious poison.  

It’s not a waste if it makes you happy. It’s not like you had rent to pay or anything, anyways.  

Obviously, Charlie was curious as to why you were talking to Chainsaw that day. You knew he wouldn’t question a vague answer, or none at all.  

However, you thought maybe he deserved something for, you know, being there. Ew. That sounded weird. He only did what he was told, it’s not like he wanted to!  

You told him the Kroner you wanted so badly was to buy those ferryman tokens, but you never told him that you never intended to use them for their intended purpose, though. You didn’t need people in your business.  

Now, you begin to head to your room when a hand grabs your arm. Charlie calls your name, “Wait!” He says quickly.  

Tensing at the sudden contact, your head snaps to him, “What? What do you need?” You question, pulling your arm back.  

Charlie lets go, “I was thinking, maybe... At some point...” He hesitates, “We could hang out? Like, without fighting for our lives?” He asks slowly, like it was some huge deal.  

Seeing him so nervous had you confused, and you almost let your expression soften for a moment, “Uh, yeah. That’s fine. Whatever.” You shrug, crossing your arms.  

Slowly smiling, Charlie nods and takes a step back, not invading your precious personal space now, “Perfect.” He says his dark brown eyes upturned in happiness.  

You grunt and nod, “Uh huh... I’m gonna go now.” You turn, waving over your shoulder to the blond.  

With that out of the way, you now go to the stairwell and up to your room to buy those ferryman tokens.  

When in your room, you go to the desk, sitting in the chair in front of it. The pads of your fingers tap against the screen as you explore the shop a bit more, finding some tabs that let you buy other items. Damn, you really were blind not to notice this earlier.  

You glance to the Kroner you had available. 935. With a sharp exhale, you purchase the five ferryman tokens.  

Shortly after, a whir comes from above you, and a panel in the ceiling opens to reveal a tube, which drops five golden coins on the desk. The transfer reminded you of a pharmacy prescription tube system. Interesting.  

Grinning, you pick up the five tokens, watching them glint in the light. You then shove them in the pocket of your jumpsuit.  

You sat in the office of your, somewhat large, property. A knock sounds on the mahogany door and the typing on your laptops keyboard falters momentarily, “Come in!” You call, then continue typing.  

Despite the nice house you lived in, the luxuries you could afford, not much of your life was luxurious. It was dirty. From the beginning to your supposed end.  

You were an addict. Starting in middle school with marijuana and alcohol. Your parents weren’t exactly the best role models; they were always high off their asses and barely getting by with rent. One day, on the way home from a party with friends in high school, you ended up in an accident, hooked on morphine to help with the pain.  

Morphine was hard to get due to its strict medical usage in controlled environments, so you transitioned to heroin; boy did that have a hell of a kick.  

Of course, you tried other substances, but you always went back to heroin like a toxic ex.  

Though, on your journey with methamphetamine, you got pulled into the business. Something involving a gun, an attempted theft, and a few deaths.  

You worked your way up the food chain over the years.  

The door opens and two of your men enter. They were both a couple of lackeys, replaceable and expendable. Heh.  

The two stop in front of your desk. “The product. Boss, something’s wrong.” One of the men speaks, a brunette boy, young, about twenty.  

An older, bald man speaks now, rolling his eyes as the younger of them hesitates, “People are dying. Our customers.”  

The typing stops, and you look to the two men, “Yes. I am aware” You state with certainty, a cold, distant look in your gaze.  

Chapter Text

Charlie walks up the staircase, a steady goal in mind. 

Frankly, he was concerned with your behavior. You hadn’t left your room in a couple days, and when he’d knock, you’d answer with a fog in your gaze and shoo him away. 

He raps on the door three times, then awaits your response. 

Silence follows the interruption to the silence in the room, and then shuffling. After a moment, the door opens to reveal you; hair unkempt, skin clammy, and a restless look in your dilated pupils.  

“Hey, Charl. What’s goin’ on?” You ask, leaning on the door frame. 

Charlie falters at the nickname, “I... Oh, you want to go for a run?” He questions, rubbing the back of his neck.  

You hesitate for a moment, sucking your teeth, “I dunno... Sounds like a lotta work.” You mumble. Behind you, the room was pitch black, and you were squinting already against the already-dull lights of the hallway. 

Sighing, Charlie grasps your arm, “Well, it’s not good to rot all day! Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get you some nutrients, yeah?” He asks, his voice gentle and happy as ever, despite the tinge of worry. 

With a groan, you reluctantly leave your den, closing the door behind you. Restlessly, you rub a few strands of hair between your pointer finger and thumb, watching the fibers knot up easily. You don’t even pull your arm back from Charlie like you’d typically do. 

Some water would do; you weren’t exactly hungry. Well, more like your body didn’t register that you were. Before you know it, your sat on a chair in the cafeteria. Charlie leaves you there, coming back with water and a couple protein bars. Not like there was too much of a selection, but it was a smart choice either way. 

He sets the packets and the paper cup in front of where you sat, “Get your strength up.” He nudges your arm.  

You grunt and pick up the water cup, chugging down the cold liquid and feeling it soothe your sore throat. You stuff the other protein bar in your pocket and open the other to nibble at, standing. “Okay, let’s go now.” You spoke out, not waiting for a response as you walk out of the cafeteria to the docks. 

Charlie stumbles to follow, a bit shocked with the urgency you displayed suddenly. 

Getting to the docks, the both of you are suited with the diving gear. “Y’know, Charlie. I never asked... But, how’d you even end up on death row? Like- You. Of all people.” 

You miss the way his posture straightens and how his fingers twitch, his demeanor faltering. The blond glances off and away, spotting an open submarine. He grasps your forearm, somewhat tightly, “Here’s an open sub.” He mumbles, heading inside. He sits on the bench, getting you to sit beside him after you toss your wrapper. 

Charlie remains quiet, not even answering. Was that his way of deflecting? Well, it wasn’t very good. 

Staring, you await an answer, “... Well?” You inquire, crossing your arms. 

The shorter man sighs, “It’s nothing crazy. Just a misunderstanding!” He laughs and shrugs, running a hand through his air. 

Much to his surprise, you let it go. “Alright, then. Weirdo.” You scoff, leaning back on the submarine wall. 

After a short while, the submarine opens with a ding. It registers to Charlie that he forgot to buy some items in the shop of the sub like he normally did. Oh well. He steps out, followed by you. 

You stretch when you leave the underwater vehicle, bouncing from desk to desk and looting whatever files, hard drives, or other loose assets you could get your hands on. 

Charlie obtains the keycard, waiting by the door that led into the labs. It takes a moment, but you catch up. With a scan of the keycard, the door opens and you go inside, dead set on looting. Though, uncharacteristically, you had a small smile on your face when you find a little picture of a worker's cat in a drawer. You look at it for a moment before just leaving it be. If you took it, it’d likely disappear when you die. “You’re in a... Good mood.” Charlie comments. 

You hum, “Well, I'm not menstruating anymore.” You respond. Okay, that was a lie. You haven’t gotten your period since you were convicted of your crime and sent to prison, due to the stress. However, it was great watching the man's face turn red. 

“O- Oh. Wait- That doesn’t even make sense!” The blond stammers somewhat. 

With a snicker, you continue on to the next room, “Yeah, it doesn’t.” You agree nonchalantly. 

When you don’t clarify, Charlie huffs silently as he waits for you so the two of you could get to the next room, watching the ground. 

As you rummage through a cabinet, you hear a clicking growly sound behind you, and a few quiet footsteps. You whip around and are face-to-face with a Wall Dweller. You startle with a yell, your fist flying forward clumsily and meeting the Wall Dwellers featureless face before it could even react to your gaze upon its form. 

Charlie's head shoots up, taking in the sight of you absolutely sucker-punching the creature. 

The Wall Dweller stumbles back and turns, running off as per usual. 

It didn’t occur to you that you just punched straight concrete, and that blood currently dripped from your newly broken knuckles. 

Grimacing, Charlie approaches and takes your hand, having noticed the injury immediately. You exhale softly. “Damn... I didn’t even feel that.” You comment, looking over your darkening knuckles, blood dripping down from them. They were already turning an ugly purple color.  

Charlie scoffs incredulously, looking up and in your eyes, “Seriously, what is going on wi-” He cuts himself off, staring harder. His brows furrow. “Christ. You’re high, aren’t you?” His tone quickly goes flatly monotone. 

All you could do is shrug, watching as Charlie pinches the bridge of his nose before ripping the lower part of his jumpsuit sleeve, and wrapping it around your hand. “Just... Fuck.” He sounded more annoyed than concerned, and more... Well, less enthusiastic than he typically was. “Don’t get yourself killed, yeah?”  

You nod, taking your hand back and flexing it. You could feel the raw skin rub on the cloth, the nerves in your hand itching at the friction, “Got it, Charl.” You sigh, patting his shoulder and pushing past him to move on. 

It was funny he said that, because two rooms later, you find yourself in a halfway-submerged room once you go about three steps down a small staircase. Without hesitation, you jump into the waist deep water after Charlie does, failing to notice a small splashing sound behind the both of you as the two of you wade through the water. 

As you’re collecting research, you’re, all of a sudden, pushed away from the desk you were  raiding. You turn swiftly to be met with the sight and scent of a horrid smelling, and looking, creature. Charlie had pushed you to get you away from the jaw-like beak of it. 

It had a long body consisting of large, dead and decomposing aquatic creatures, the eyes glowing in bioluminescence. A huge, sharp beak sat at its head with four sides, which instead went for Charlie, standing where you once did. It tears into his body and shakes its head reminiscent of a dog ripping around a chew toy. Charlie attempts to fight back momentarily before his back snaps backwards sickeningly. 

You take heaving breaths, phased more so than usual by such a sight. Your brain finally kicks back on, and you quickly trudge through the waist-deep water. You try to ignore the crunching of bones behind you, keeping your eyes forward. 

Around three rooms later, you quickly hop up the steps onto solid, moist ground, where the creature couldn’t get you. You stumble forward and look back to see the being slink back down into the water and out of sight. You exhale sharply, turning around to walk on with wobbly legs.  

You take the cloth off of your knuckles, picking at the loose skin around the injuries and now keeping a keen eye out as you loot and progress. 

With some time, you make it to a familiar path and spot the ever-recognized floodlight in the dark room, pointing to a grate that flies across the room with the flick of a fishy tail. 

Sebastians raspy voice beckons you in, and you groan. Going to the vent, you get down and crawl through. The warm light floods your vision, contrasting to the headache-inducing fluorescents. 

“Well, look who it is.” Sebastian clasps his upper hands together with a sneer.  

You roll your eyes, looking to the items on his tail. Most were lights, which you didn’t care too much about this time around. No medkit, so no good. “Do you have anything useful?” You pull out all the research you had on your person, waving it around. 

Sebastians eyes widen a fraction, before he scoffs and casts his gaze off to the side. That was a lot this time. He wanted it, but his stock wasn’t the best. The fishman would offer his file, but he didn’t want your grubby little hands touching such sensitive information. 

He straightens, his tail coiling forwards, as if to hide the desk that had that file from your sight. “Just what you see, expendable. Get something or get out.” He huffs out. 

You notice the odd positioning of his serpent tail and quirk an eyebrow. “Oh! What about that file, eh?” You inquire, crossing your arms. You could just keep the research to get Kroner, but you weren’t thinking about that right now. 

Sebastian holds back a growl. It’s like you read his mind. “And why would you want that?” He questions defensively, snatching up the file with clawed fingers that threatened to rip the paper. 

Shrugging, you tilt your head, “What’s so wrong about learning about my bestest buddy?” You smirk, your tone dripping in sarcasm. 

Clenching his jaw, Sebastian snatches the research from your grip and throws the file at you. “Knock yourself out. Literally, please. Preferably out there with an Angler on the way, or in front of a turret, hm?” He rambles; shoulders taught in tension. 

You catch the file and open it, “Sourpuss.” You snort. 

Sebastian grunts, his fins downturned and teeth clenched. “Okay, get out. Go.” His tail thwacks on the wall. 

Holding up a finger, you don't look up, “Hush up, mister ‘Handy-Man’.” You mumble as you continue reading, oddly curious. Huh, kill on sight, doesn’t work for Urbanshade, clearly. “Huh, wait. Did you cause all of this down here? Crazy villain origin story, bud.” You spoke aloud.  

The mutants trigger finger twitches over his holster. 

You continue to read, “Woah. You were found innocent after everything?” You falter somewhat as you read over that part several times. “That’s... Wow. That’s shitty.” Your voice lowers somewhat as a feeling akin to guilt, or pity, maybe even dread, itches under your skin. It was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. 

Sebastian doesn’t respond for a long moment as you finish up your reading. Then, he lets out a heavy sigh when you close the folder, “Ya done?” He asks gruffly, sorting through the research you had paid with to keep his hands and mind busy. 

Hesitantly, you tuck the file away. “I guess.” 

The creature nods, “Then go.” Sebastian sighs, an odd sense of uncomfortability and defeat in his tone. 

You furrow your brows, “Uh, yeah. Got it.” You shift awkwardly on your feet, then grab the keycard and go to leave, kneeling in front of the vent. You pause, “Sebastian?” 

He grunts in response; his lower hand clutched into a tight fist at his side. 

“If... If an expendable down here were found innocent... Do you think Urbanshade would let them free?” You ask slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. 

Sebastian falters, looking to you for a brief moment, and then back to the files. “No. No they wouldn’t.” 

What a peculiar question to ask, but there was an unspoken understanding to your question in his response.

Chapter Text

“Oh, and another thing.” Sebastians tone changes to his usual as you go to crawl out, “When you’re not resetting over and over, for the love of god. Take a shower.” He drawls sarcastically. 

Right. You had been cooped up in your room, preoccupied. You wave him off, huffing quietly and crawling through the vent to the other side. 

You go the next door and scan the keycard, slowing going to sniff yourself after a moment. “Yikes.” You mutter to yourself with a grimace. 

A room later, you hear a loud curse from Sebastian’s shop from the man himself, and you glance down at the new flashlight equipped to your beltloop. You didn’t even need it; it was just fun to take it. 

Hurrying on ahead, you keep looting, so you’ll at least get some Kroner after this, despite spending all your research. So, Sebastian was working with- what seemed to be- an equally sketchy rival organization to Urbanshade through that radio in his shop. At least, that’s what the file said. 

Nice, but also not nice. You didn’t know how Urbanshade would handle a breach like that, but something told you that you might suffer the consequences of his actions. Was that selfish to think? Definitely. Oh well. 

One-two, skip-a-few rooms later, you get to a train station of sorts? This has certainly been the furthest you’ve gotten. Reluctantly, you go down a staircase as the intercom turns on.  

“Up ahead is our Lunar Dock, and some of the equipment inside has been reading as... 
Inoperational. We need you to take the tram to the dock and take a look, but first, you need to fix the tram's bulk-head control box. It should be located somewhere in the middle of the room. Once fixed, board the tram, and head over to the Lunar Dock.”  

Well, it’s good to know what you’re doing about wherever the hell you were. You assume the control box is the sparking cube on the ground. You kneel in front of it, examining the wiring. The wires inside were split, but you could see where they needed to connect at the frayed ends based on the coloring. 

You cautiously grab two red wires, attempting to intertwine them together. With careful precision, you manage. Then, the two blue wires. When trying to get them to stay connected, your finger grazes the frayed copper on the end and sends a sharp shock through your system. You yelp and stumble back, taking a moment to calm your shaking, recharged hand. Back to it, you connect those wires, and the tram system whirs beside you, the doors opening. 

You close the box with a soft exhale, getting up and inside the underground tram. Your hand tingles from the sparks of the conducted electricity. You wiggle your fingers in attempt to regain a more regular feeling in your nerves. 

The tram jerks forward after you flip a switch reminiscent of the one in the submarine, NAVI systems, you think it was? 

You quickly find purchase on a handle on the wall, keeping yourself steady. The whole tram rumbles, something that totally didn’t make you somewhat nervous. 

Four orange spotlights shine over the tram, seeming to pass over. You look out the window, squinting, though the body of whatever it was out there was hidden in the darkness. 

“Attention! A Vultus Luminaria has been spotted near the entrance of the Lunar dock. It would appear that a certain parasite...” The voice spits, venom lacing its synthetic voice. “-Is preventing me from closing the external bulkhead remotely. I apologize.” The NAVI AI announces out loud. 

You shift nervously on your feet, this Vultus Luminaria creature didn’t sound too nice, just from the name. That was some sci-fi villain shit.  

Eventually, however, the tram comes to a stop. 

The doors open and you step out onto the dock. After looting the area, like usual, you head over a vast pit to a large platformed area with a door. Past that door is a room which looks like it was supposed to be secured with two locked doors heading the same way and a purple keycard reader, but one door is broken off the hinges and on the ground. 

Stepping into the room, the bulkhead in front of you whirs, the door clanking before mechanically opening slowly. The same orange lights greet you, seeming to scan the floor before catching sight of a dead body on the floor beside the railing. 

A hook spears out at incredible haste, puncturing the body and latching to it, and then quickly pulling it up into a gaping, teeth filled mouth on the creature's body. 

Okay, stay out of the light, yeah, easy-peasy. You could do that. Once the Vultus passes, you hurry out and quickly spot a generator, much like the one for the tram docks. 

This was probably what HQ was talking about earlier, the ‘inoperable equipment’ needed to be powered. Hastily looking around, you get started. You try to be careful, but time is of the essence.  

With a couple close calls with your hand's unsteady movements, you power the box on right at the Searchlights draw near. Hurriedly, you run and slide under a cargo storage crate, hearing the hum of the lights as they scour the area around and above you. 

With some time and calculated senses of direction, you’re down to what you believe to be the last generator to complete. 

You curse under your breath, four sets of live, broken wires to connect. Your head shoots up to see the Vultus across the warehouse. 

You get to work, mumbling to yourself to calm your shaky hands. “Of course... Should’ve just accepted the death sentence, now look at you. Fucking twisted...” You mutter totally sanely to yourself. 

On the last wires, you carefully but unsteadily try to connect the copper ends, hearing the humming of the lights grow closer. Like prey, your heart beats strongly in your chest. Finally, you get the wires connected, but unfortunately for you, the orange glow casts over your form. You try to run, but the sharp hook of the creature penetrates right through your chest. 

You barely register the intense pain in your torso before you’re off the ground, souring up and into the voidish mouth. 

Sharply inhaling, you find yourself back in the lobby. Damn, and sober. That was a waste. Unfortunately, you were now aware you were acting a fool down there, in general and with fishman. Eugh. Why did you ask such a weird question? Well, not the question itself, but in such a weird way?! Okay. You were overthinking. Continuing on... 

Seems like Charlie was waiting for you; he leant against the wall rather boredly nearby where everybody came back.  

When you approach, he lifts his head up and grins. “You were down there for a while, how’d it go?” Charlie inquires cheerfully. 

You cross your arms, the usual frown engraved in your features, “The last place I ended up in was a warehouse with a flying light spear creature trying to kill me. So, I’d say good.” You grumble. 

Despite your sarcastic and annoyance-ridden response, Charlie brightens, “Really? You were like, more than halfway, then! That’s... That’s great!” He was genuine, excitement for you bubbling in his eyes. 

Charlie grasps your wrist, “Let’s go again!” The blond chirped, rushing back to the docks.  

Sighing, you stumble to follow momentarily before keeping pace. Shockingly, you don’t do anything about the hold on your wrist. Typically, the feeling would make your skin crawl with discomfort but you just... Didn’t care with him, now. 

You only pull back to get geared up by the guards, who lock you securely into the diving gear and detonator. 

Charlie leads the way to a submarine. No empty ones were available, though you didn’t mind when it was just the familiar, olive-skinned woman on the bench. Isadora? No, Isabella. Yeah. 

Isabella glances to you and somewhat scoots a bit away when you sit on the same bench. Ouch, but it made sense. You highkey murdered Chainsaw in front of her that first run. 

Sitting across from the both of you, Charlie waits until the submarine is closed and, in the water, to get up and access the shop, ordering whatever he wanted for this run. When done, he sits back down and seems to think for a moment before smiling to Isabella. “Hey! I’m Charlie.” He greets happily. 

Isabella glances between the two of you, not exactly keen to interact with someone associated with you. “Uh... Hi. Isabella.” She spoke softly. 

Charlie nods, grinning. The rest of the ride down to the Hadal Blacksite is awkwardly silent. 

When the door opens and the ramp pushes out to connect to the concrete floor of the Blacksite, Isabella is right out of there, quick to grab the keycard and get out of that room. 

You glance to Charlie and the blond just shrugs, heading to the drop shipment of items whilst you get to looting the place. 

Charlie clips a medkit, a flash beacon, and a code breacher to his belt loops, going to head on to the next room when you catch up. 

Isabella did not want to be around you. Looking ahead, you could tell she was just rushing through this, not taking any research. More Kroner for you. You and Charlie take your time, gathering what Isabella left behind and making your way forward gradually, avoiding the occasional entity sent your way. You also take note of the decrease in bombs. Sebastians getting lazy, isn't he?

Much to your demise, the next room continued into the broken floor into flooded rooms. You grimace, “You... Go ahead. I’ll figure it out.” You huff, looking down at the hole as Charlie eases himself into the icy pool of water. 

Once inside, Charlie grips the ledge of the ground, tugging his mask on, “You’re sure? I- I can help!” He assures. 

You nod, “I’m sure. I’ll try this at my own pace. Not like I can drown.” You respond with a shrug, tapping at the tank on your back. 

With a sigh, Charlie nods and waves, dipping under the surface to make his way down and through the flooded rooms. 

You move to sit down on the ledge of the hole, thinking. Last time did not go well. Like, at all. Dipping your legs in the water, you suppress a small shudder at the cold encasing the limbs. Dread pooled in your chest as you looked down into the dark water, an unsteady frown on your face. 

It was easier the last time, when you just didn’t care, but you really hated how helpless you felt. Now, at least, nobody could see you flail in the water aimlessly. 

You put the mask on over your face, too tight, but water wouldn't seep through. 

Slowly, you’re about to push off the ledge and into the water, but the atmosphere grows heavy. Something was wrong. You sit back down on the ground and look around as your mind hazes uncomfortably. A black and dark green figure was steadily floating to you. 

The sight nauseated you. No, not just the sight. The feeling it invoked. Th dread in your chest grew, and not because of the water under your feet.  

Time stretched and you couldn’t move, not until the cold air that surrounded the figure enveloped you. You shut your eyes tightly and push into the water. 

Only, you’re not met with water, but more ground. You remain there, tense and eyes shut. Nothing happens except for the subtle fatigue you felt settling in. After a moment or three, you peak out of your eyelids to be met with a room flooded in a warmer light, where you sat on the ground. 

The first person you notice is Sebastian, and looking around, Isabella, who was stood in front of his tail to choose an item. They both kinda just... Stared. At you. 

“I... Wh... What?” You slowly stand, pulling the mask from your face and into the compartment on your back, suppressing the slight shake of your hands. 

They both stare for another moment, until Sebastian has some realization, “Oh. Lopee.” He casually states. 

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for some clarification.  

Sebastian sighs, his tone bored and irritated, as usual. Though, the venom normally presented to you was toned down, “Another entity down here. If he gets bored with whatever you’re doing and staying too far back, he might give a little... Nudge...” He explains with a circle of his hand. 

Isabella turns away, ignoring you and picking an item off his tail, handing over the research for it and turning to go with the keycard with haste. 

With a hum, you cross your arms, “So, an impatient asshole.” You state definitively. 

Sebastian snorts, “Careful. He’s the one making sure you don’t stay torn to pieces. Play nice.” He hisses out in a condescending tease. “Wait, actually. Don’t.”  

Ah, there was the usual Sebastian. 

You roll your eyes, “Right.” 

So, this Lopee fella is the one keeping you in the loop, eh? 

Chapter Text

You catch up to Isabella, reluctantly reaching a hand out to grasp her shoulder as she fumbles through drawers for a keycard. Having hurried to catch up with the woman, you didn’t want to gain another interaction with that Lopee fella again. Probably never ever wanted to, actually. The thought of the guy... Thing... Brought goosebumps to your skin 

Isabella tenses and turns quickly to face you, pulling back from the mere brush of your phalanges on her shoulder, “What?” She asks quickly. 

Holding up your hands in a small act of surrender, you glance down the way you both came from. “We should wait for Charlie.” You respond, the tone of your voice uncharacteristically soft; you didn’t want to scare her off completely now, after all. At least not mid-mission. She could be useful, after all. 

The ravenette slowly nods, “Yeah... Okay. If he’s not here in ten, I’m sure he died, though.” She murmurs, heading to a side room present in the hallway.  

You sigh and shrug, going to lean on the doorway and wait, tapping your foot on the concrete floor.  

Somewhere near seven minutes pass when you see a familiar figure a few halls down approaching, you wave him over. “Charlie, c’mon.” 

Charlie quickens his pace, sending a look of confusion your way. “H- How’d you-... You were behind me?” He questions, confusion lacing his tone. 

Isabella hears the commotion and leaves the side room to recoup with her fellow expendables. You walk and talk with Charlie as the tall woman swipes the keycard she got in the door.  

“Some green teenage mutant ninja turtle fella teleported me to Isabella because he was a tad impatient.” You scoff, “This place is absolutely unreal...” You add, quieter. 

Making a sound of acknowledgement, Charlie nods, “Oh, I’ve had that happen once a while back.” He states. 

With a shrug, the three of you walk door to door. It takes a close call with a Wall Dweller and avoiding an Angler, and you’re back at the tram station. 

Isabella, of course, knew what to do, and made her way to the sparking generator. The speaker blares an announcement reminiscent to the one you heard last run; you ignore it for the most part. 

“They never stay fixed... Wish there was a more permanent solution for that.” The male among the group sighs, leaning on the wall as he waits. 

You nod in agreement, silent. 

After a minute or two, Isabella closes the generator latch, watching as the systems activate and the tram door opens. 

Charlie looked exceptionally happy to get on board, humming to himself and pulling the switch once everyone was present in the vehicle. NAVI’s speech must’ve been automatic, because it repeats when you get moving. It seems like that ‘Vultus Luminaria’ creature is a constant problem, then. 

Isabella groans quietly, “Fucking Searchlights...” She mutters to herself, rubbing her face in irritation as another hand holds onto the pole to keep balance. 

Ah. That was a sensible name. ‘Searchlights’ was certainly easier to keep to memory and speak than ‘Vultus Luminaria’. With time, the three of you are off the tram and present in the warehouse with the Searchlights. 

The other woman was certainly better with wires, working with precision and speed. Quite a bit more generators needed repairing this time around. 

It doesn’t take too long to get the generators repaired, at least enough to open the bulkhead to the next set of rooms. You get there first and wait for Isabella and Charlie. 

Moments after getting through, Isabella enters. “That Charlie guy got speared, no need to wait.” She sighs, somewhat disappointed. 

You only nod, “Huh. Alright. I guess we just... Keep going.” Your response comes with a shrug. 

Isabella doesn’t care much about your reply, getting the purple keycard to get past the next door.  

The silence is somewhat more tense than previously. The olive-toned girl isn’t keen on conversation. You could only assume it was because you scared the shit out of her on the only run you’ve had with her, and clearly your first one.  

“You’re not really hung up over last time, right?” A scoff escapes your lips in your tingling irritation.  

A soft huff passes through Isabella, “Oh, I shouldn’t be hung up on how you threw a guy in front of a turret to get past it? When you didn’t even know he’d come back?” She asks rhetorically, a sneer painting her lovely features. 

All you could do was shrug, “Yeah.” You then pause, brows furrowing, “How’d you know I didn’t know he would come back?” You inquire with a slight head tilt. 

Rolling her eyes, the other woman responds with an edge in her tone, “I do runs often with Saw. He told me how dumbfounded you were when he confronted you.” She grunts out, slamming shut a drawer she found a flashlight in. Isabella speeds up, walking faster through the halls, “This further shows proof that you are untrustworthy and obviously, you would do it again. You had no remorse whatsoever.” She continues. 

Momentarily, you sputter, “H- He-... He was an ass!” You weakly defend yourself. 

Isabella glares over her shoulder at you, “If he was an ass, then what does that make you?” 

You hesitate, then quiet, the words for a retort dying on your tongue.  

The more rooms the two of you get through, the more active the entities and creatures become. Distant screaming is audible with no flickering as a warning. Pinkie. 

Isabella sprints back the way you both came to a side room, you definitely should’ve followed. With haste, you open the doors to a locker, only for black tendrils to slam them open wider and grasp at you. The purple slime coating the suction cups burn through your jumpsuit and into your skin as you’re pulled into the locker. 

Isabella doesn’t help once the Angler passes. She walks past the shaking locker, evident of a struggle happening inside. 

You scream is muffled from outside the locker as the slimy appendages wrap around your form, burning and sizzing into your flesh with an audible hiss. One wraps around your throat, choking you out as you squirm and struggle. The air leaving your body has your head reeling with oxygen loss, the pounding of blood growing in your ears. Your head felt as if it would explode as dots spot your vision. 

Then, a deep breath of sweet, sweet air. The fill in your lungs instantly soothes your nerves. 

Charlie grasps your wrist from beside you, having been waiting nearby in the revival area and had practically skipped to you once you were back. You didn’t even have time to comprehend your situation completely. “Hey! Want to go again?” He asks excitedly. 

You grimace and shake your head, “Charlie... No. I just got back, and I want to relax for a sec.” You grunt, pulling your arm away. 

Charlie stammers for a moment, grasping your sleeve now for a moment. He pulls away when a glare is sent his way. “But we got pretty far that time!” He attempts to convince you. 

With a scoff, you cross your arms close to yourself, “Before, you said you often almost get to the crystal. So, like, you’re fine on your own.” 

The boy seemed to sink down in defeat, a small pout pulling onto his lips, “I... Alright, I’ll meet ya later, then.” He sighs dejectedly. 

That was quite the kicked puppy act, but that didn’t work on you. 

After a few hours, however, the two of you get back on the Blacksite grind, on and off, of course.  

You manage to acquire a hefty number of Kroner as the days pass, enough to supply yourself with, what you would consider, a necessity. You had learned not to go down to the Blacksite intoxicated, lest you wanted to embarrass yourself further. 

Currently, you were on your way to meet Charlie in the cafeteria. Down the stairwell you go, though once at the bottom, a large figure pins you to the wall. “Where is she?!” A deep voice bellows in demand. 

It registers to you that this is Chainsaw. You had absolutely no clue what he was getting at. The lack of immediate answer makes him growl and he pulls you forward by the collar of your jumpsuit and slams you back into the wall, not causing any real damage, thankfully. 

“’She’? Wh- Who?!” You grunt, both hands grasping his wrists in an attempt to pry them off.  

Chainsaw seethes, “Isabella. You and your little friend were the last ones with her. I know your lousy, backstabbing, bitch self, did something!” He yells in your face, a few pellets of spit landing on your forehead and cheek as you turn your head away. “I know why you’re hear, talk goes ‘round and you’re one sick fuck.” He gets uncomfortably close, his words taunting you. With a deep frown, you dig your fingernails into his skin and stop flailing your legs to angle your knee and practically uppercut his balls with it. Chainsaw drops you, doubling over to grasp his delicates. 

You clench your jaw, “Nothing about her is worth doing anything about.” Admittedly, you were still pissed about the beating you received before. Sure, you played nice to get that information about his buddy, but the two of you knew that was just bullshit sweet talk. You send a kick to his face, and he groans, rolling onto his back. It was empowering, watching a larger man that could easily pop your head right off your body express pain caused by you, especially after before, “I’d recommend that you re-evaluate your actions, Princess. And do not act like you know anything about me.” You hiss. 

He was fueled by anger, clumsy. You knew how he functioned from the last beatdown, so thankfully, you were able to defend yourself. 

You wipe the spit off of your face and cringe, sending one more kick to his side before turning and walking off. Chainsaws nose was crooked and bleeding, a nasty bruise bound to form. 

Glancing down to your nails, you see the blood and skin built up under the surface and sneer, pushing your hands into your pockets. 

People are talking, no doubt. Chainsaw thought he knew why you were here. It was clear to you that your case was a bit more... Public, than you thought. The cat fight from a couple weeks ago should’ve been the first hint, but that was a personal affair to the stranger. It didn’t count in your book. 

You spot Charlie as you enter the cafeteria, arms crossed over yourself closely. Your hair was somewhat splayed out from getting your head slammed into a damn wall. Twice. Much to your relief, the blond says nothing about your ruffled appearance. Either he didn’t notice or he knew better now than to ask. 

“Hey!” Charlie calls happily, followed by a nickname for you. 

Staring at him, you slowly shake your head, “No... Just, don’t.” You grimace in disdain and a great lack of amusement. 

The short male hums in amusement, “But you can call me ‘Charl’, huh?” He inquires smugly; chest puffed proudly at the retort and his own reminder at the slip of your tongue. 

You groan, “I was high. Literally forget all of that.” You rub your face, brow twitching in mild irritation. 

With a short laugh, Charlie links his arm with yours, clearly in an exceptionally good mood. He tried, at least, but you quickly noped out of that and pulled your arm back. “Nah. I won’t.” He grins widely at you. 

With a disappointed and annoyed glare sent your companions way, you turn slowly and head to the docks. You walk quickly just so Charlie can struggle to keep up. “We are coworkers, Charlie. Not friends.” You grumble. 

Charlie salutes, breathing a bit quickly as he makes speedy steps to keep up with your long strides, “A- Aye-aye, captain!” He breathes out airily. 

Chapter Text

Charlie had died pretty early on. It started with a tripwire on a doorframe, and one of those Good People took him out when he was unaware that there were two other doors with signs lit up further into the room. 

That definitely wasn’t the most fun thing to witness, you were even a little shaken for a few minutes. However, eventually, you come upon a familiar path, and vent. 

In the usual fashion, the vent flies across the room and you’re beckoned into the small entryway. You crawl through the vent into Sebastian’s shop. Inside the shopkeeper sat; stationary in his usual spot, his upper hands clasped together. 

Sebastian looks down at you with his usual grin, “Expendable. I see you’re solo.” He comments, a tinge of a tease in his tone. 

You shrug, “Yeah. Charlie had some bad hits this run.” You mumble, looking to the items on his tail, not much thought put into your absentminded statement. You check your research, deciding not to buy any of today's stock. A question comes to mind. “That girl that I was with before. Isabella.” You start, “Is she still somewhere down here?” You inquire curiously. 

The fishman let out a noncommittal hum, not too caring about the subject, “Nah.” He examines his claws, flexing them under the shine of his lure, “She’s long dead by now. Got her little hands on the crystal, so the place was goin’ berserk to stop her.” Sebastian snickers at the thought. 

Sighing, you nod, “That was helpful.” You grumble sarcastically, grabbing the keycard off the table. You didn’t care about Isabella, not one bit. She had left you to die and was just some prisoner. But damn, were you curious. It was odd that her buddy, Chainsaw, hadn’t seen her, even more so with the degree he was freaking out at about the matter.  

Sebastian sneers slightly at your comment, “Why would it matter, haven’t seen her in a while? Maybe she’s one of the many to not enjoy your company, little expendable.” The shopkeeper laughs at his own insult, speaking up to continue his rude ramblings. 

With a roll of your eyes, you begin to hum loudly just to piss him off and drown him out, going for the vent with a half-assed wave over your shoulder. 

The laughing stops after he registers what you’re doing. “... Is that Radiohead?” 

The fuck? Why was he, out of anyone, listening to Radiohead? How?  

“Uh. Yeah. ‘Just.’” You turn to look at him, squinting, “How-” 

Sebastian interrupts you with a deadpan expression, “I had a life before this, expendable.” 

You roll your eyes, “Okay, whatever. Stop calling me that, anyways.” You state your name; the faint realization washes over you that he probably didn’t even know it. “So maybe use it? Ass...” 

“Whatever, I don’t really care, little miss sharkbait.” Sebastian scoffs in slight irritation, “But that was the last thing I learned on my guitar... I think.” He then clears his throat. “It’s uh... Familiar. That’s all.” He keeps a faltering snarl on his face; his expression pulled back in constant displeasure. 

You raise an eyebrow, “O... Kay?” You didn’t know, nor care, why he was telling you this. You turn to go to leave again. 

Sebastian inhales sharply, “Wait.” He grunts out reluctantly. 

Slight irritation shows on your features as you groan and turn back to him, “What?” You hiss out, less than pleased to be staying. 

The male pinches the bridge of his nose, as if trying to push away his annoyance and contemplate his next words. “Do you, uh... Know the lyrics?” He questions, a defeated, exasperated sigh in his voice. 

Sitting beside the vent, you cross your arms, “Yeah, I do. Stupid songs been stuck in my head for a little.” It’s been a few years, and honestly, life without music should be considered straight up torture. 

Sebastian turns, rummaging through the small table beside him. After a moment, he pulls out a paper that has typed print on it, some random document, and a pen. The shopkeeper tosses them in front of you, the blank back of the paper face-up. “Write them.” 

You furrow your brows, looking at the writing tools and back up at him, “Write the lyrics?” You question in your confusion.  

Groaning like you were some idiot, his fins downturned in the fishman’s annoyance towards you, “Yes, you imbecile!” He clenches his lower hand, like he was annoyed to be asking a meager task such as this to be done.  

You hold your hands up, “Damn! Okay, got it!” You exasperate, ticked off by his somewhat defensive demeanor. You then reach for the pen and paper, pulling the paper over and holding the pen in hand. You replay the song in your head. Although a word or two seemed to mush in your brain, the lyrics flowed smoothly. It wasn’t too niche of a song, so you heard it often, yet it wasn’t overplayed enough to be absolutely irritating. Your pen scribbles on the paper, putting a line of space between pauses and writing, ‘[Music]’ or, ‘[Epic guitar solo]’ in those spaces. 

Once done, you slide the materials over. Sebastian picks the paper up, attempting to suppress the small wag of his tail that typically happened in a transaction. He then cleared his throat. “You can go, now.” He scoffs, as if you overstayed your welcome. Like he didn’t make you stay. 

You roll your eyes, turning and going to crawl back through the vent, irritated disbelief expressed in your body language and face. 

When you left, Sebastian held that paper in hand. He read over the lyrics, a hand carefully feeling the chords he remembered in an air guitar. Reading the lyrics, he could remember the song better now. It had been forever since Sebastian had heard a mere note, other than the chime of the announcements. A higher ‘A flat’ and a lower ‘A natural’.  

This was the closest he’d get to something he found such dear comfort in; music. With his deprivation, he could practically hear the melody deep in his brain. The memory of the song was pulled out of the deep recesses in his mind, hidden by years of trauma and unrest, and played like a record within him. Like riding a bicycle; he’d never fully forget. 

Now and then, the melody faltered, but with surprising patience he’d restart until he decided to rest his brain on the subject.  

Carefully, the mutant held the paper close and grabbed onto the top of the wall by him, using his tail to push himself up on a hidden loft ledge. He places the paper down beside the area he slept in; a bundle of pillows, towels, and blankets he found around the Blacksite. 

You were a bit confused by his request when you left. Write the lyrics? Why?  

It was odd to you, but after the slightly threatening encounter, you brushed it all off. 

Isabella had gotten to the crystal, according to Sebastian. She couldn’t have gotten out; the Blacksite was still powered, and expendables were still being sent down. Maybe he was right, did she really die? Die die? 

It was hard to tell, but Chainsaw made it clear she’s been gone a long time. Was she so unfortunate to really die when so close? 

Charlie had mentioned that people end up really dying at some point, with not really any way to measure it. Maybe this was an unfortunate circumstance, maybe that Lopee fella found it necessary to dispose of her for good. 

The thought sent a chill down your spine. Your true death was in the hands of a being you knew next to nothing about. 

To say it scared the hell out of you was a great understatement. That was clear when you were stuck in a room with not one, not two, but three turrets. You slinked down before freezing in the middle of the room, hidden behind some crates and a locker. 

What if you were next? 

What was death really like? 

What if... 

What if... 

The thoughts echo through your brain, bumping off the walls of your skull. You could practically hear the blood rushing through your ears. 

You don’t give yourself time to recover from this wave of panic and just run through the armored room after jumpstarting your nerves. You’re particularly lucky to make it to the door, only to see the keycard lock. “... Fuck.” The curse leaves your lips right before two turrets beep, and pellet bullets at you. 

And you’re back at the docks. That was wonderful. You could swear you could still feel the metal buried under your skin; an itch that would remain for some time, at least until you calmed down from that rather painful death. It was like the turret purposefully avoided anything too fatal, like the brain.  

It was like it wanted you to die painfully, each and every time. 

You catch your breath where you stood, not bothering with Charlie, who was awaiting your return. Rushing off to your room, you shoulder check a couple expendables in your way.  

You weren’t quite sure what was wrong with you. Normally, you were fine. Fine! But now, it finally hit you that you really had no true control of your life and death when in Urbanshade’s grasp. 

You could’ve died to those bullets, to the Void locker, the Wall Dweller, the Anglers. You would never know until your consciousness wasn’t present to comprehend a single moment after your heart or brain stop functioning completely. 

The way to your room was a blur, you could somewhat comprehend the hurried footsteps of Charlie behind you, faintly calling your name. Sloppily, you press your finger to the scanner and open your door, slamming it into his face. 

Why now? Why did it all hit you now? 

A strained noise, similar to a sob or groan escapes you when you fumble through your nightstand, only to find an empty bag and Sebastian’s file. So now, you sit on the ground, fumbling with the bag to get whatever was left over, and it wasn’t enough. You had been trying to use as little as possible, the substance was obviously scarce in such a controlled area. 

Of course, that’s what you tried to do. That didn’t work considering you were completely out. 

Unsteadily and quickly, you get to the screen on the desk and look to what your currency is. 783 Kroner. Dammit. You needed 117 more. You could get that in about three runs, but you knew Charlie was lingering outside, and you really didn’t want to explain your hasty departure moments ago. 

Charlie indeed stood outside your door, earning odd looks from passer-byers. He could hear the shuffling in your room, strengthening the sour expression of concern adorning his soft features. 

The blond wasn’t just going to leave you like this! He had absolutely no clue what was going on, but he really was curious. He knocks on your door and calls your name. 

In response, you smack the door on the other side, “Trying to get in the shower, here!” You yell through the door. 

Charlie’s frown deepens, and he huffs silently, moving to sit against the wall beside your door. 

Chapter Text

With a bored look upon your face, you pick at the cheap cardboard juice box.  

Charlie was speaking, but you didn’t care much for whatever he was talking about. He wasn’t his usual self; but neither were you. The blond wasn’t sure how to react when you exited your room after that shower that happened to last almost two hours.  

You weren’t even dirty? You had just died, so your body was reset. Either way, it was a necessity to you, as you had insisted it was. 

It was time to think and damn you had a lot to think about.  

Isabella was supposedly dead; she had vanished off the face of the earth and hasn’t been seen since. So, it was just a matter of time before each and every person here would be picked off one by one, replaced with new inmates and forgotten. 

It could be the next death, or ten from now. There was no way to know. 

Charlie had gone quiet, frowning at you and your silence. 

You glance up from the juice box to him, stilling your hands, “... What?” You raise an eyebrow, voice sharp yet gravelly. 

Sighing, Charlie clasps his hands together and leans forward across the cafeteria table, “You’re not even listening. I’ve been talking for five minutes.” Charlie all but mutters, the furrow of his eyebrow quirked downwards. 

“I’m-... Jesus! I’m just tired, Charlie.” You grunt and take a sip from the juice box. 

It was an obvious lie, did anybody even actually sleep here? Charlie runs a hand through his hair in a stressed manner, his gaze off of you and at a random wall. “Right. Sorry.” The blond murmurs, then lets out a single laugh. 

You only stand, picking up the near full juice box. “So... I’m going back to my room. Do not go to the Blacksite without me.” This had Charlie send you a look of confusion, but he shrugs and nods. 

Maybe it was a growing fondness, or you just didn’t want him to progress without you. You, for some reason, didn’t find enjoyment in the idea of Charlie in the Blacksite now. 

You shake away the thought. You wanted to leave, and he was your best bet. Couldn’t let him go without you. 

Charlie let out a quiet hum, “Uh. Well, get some rest?” Your companion watches you as you go to the trash and throw out the box, tossing him a half-assed wave. 

In your room, you lay on the dull covers of your bed, actually unable to sleep. You weren’t the slightest bit tired, and that was evident as you stared up at the ceiling in silence. 

Your body felt gross, despite your earlier shower. Maybe it was the constant itch under your skin, you needed your indulgence, but you couldn’t afford it. Perhaps a couple trips to the Blackside wouldn’t hurt? 

No, no. Underestimation is how people die. You’d have to bear with this; it’ll go away eventually. You’ll be safe to remain in this room for however long it takes... 

What if someone gets the crystal?  

Do the rest of you just get sent right back to death row? Yeah, there might be some deserving individuals among the mass. What about Charlie the others?  

Normally you wouldn’t give half of a fuck about anyone else, but if you were part of those others? 

A few more minutes of contemplation should be fine. It’s not like anyone would get the crystal while you took some time to ponder your situation! Maybe an hour or few would work. Or a day... 

Yeah, that won’t hurt. You sit and rest there for a long while. To be completely honest, you have no clue how long, to the point your tongue grew dry and legs felt unsteady when you went to stand. Looks like it’s time to get a bagel and water, probably.  

The first thing you’re met with is the familiar, relieved expression of the one and only. That’s it. The one and only, it’s not like you were referring to many other people these days. 

Charlie was about to knock when the door opened. He was surprised, but instantly relaxed. 

Your shoulders tense and you grimace, “The hell are you doing-?!” You step back into the room. 

His eyes widen, “Oh! I... Well, I was just about to check on you!” The expendable temporarily stammers. 

With narrowed eyes, you cross your arms, “Right. I’m going to the cafeteria.” You brush by him, walking down the hall to the staircase as the expected footsteps follow. 

Smiling, Charlie stayed in step at your side. “Then the Blacksite?” He asks. 

You sigh, “We’ll see.” Grumbling, you step down the staircase, then the next, “I don’t see why you want to go so bad; it’s hell down there.” You add on, rolling your eyes. 

Charlie hesitates, then shrugs, “To get out? Why’re you so... Against it right now?” He questions, the corner of his pale lips downturned somewhat. 

This makes you grit your teeth; it was a question you didn’t have the exact answer to. In theory, you wanted to. Though, you wanted to in the way you want a job. You want to make money, to fit into society and work like every person, but actually working some medium wage job run by corporate money-hungry bastards that get angry when you work overtime but expect piles and piles of endless paperwork expected to unrealistically be done in eight hours is absolutely grueling. 

Maybe that’s why you got into your line of work. 

You’re getting off topic. 

“I’m not! I just want some me-time.” You cross your arms over your chest, getting to the cafeteria and picking up a small paper water cup to fill with water at the kitchens sink in the back.  

Charlie scratches at his cheek, staring at you. You meet his silent gaze, not yet sipping the water. “No, you didn’t. Well, you did, but it was definitely caused by something! Come on! What’s going on?” Your partner insists, the unsteady frown now full and engraved deeply into his features. 

However, yours runs deeper. “Why are you prying, Charlie?!” You snap, discomfort twisting at your nerves.  

His eyes widen and he takes a small step back before he then doubles down. “It’s concern! I- I'm concerned!” Charlie clenches his jaw, staring you down somewhat harder. 

You laugh, “I’m not your friend, dude. We work like-” You sputter for a second before continuing, “Coworkers! We’re coworkers.” The water cup was fragile, and some spilled over the top when your grip tightened, but you force your hand to relax. 

Charlie scoffs, his irritation shining through his usual demeanor, “Right, then I’m a concerned coworker, because with your view on us, I’m concerned about our work. Why’re you so scared?”  

Your lip raises in a cringe, “I am not scared!” Your voice raises and you now set the water down. 

The blond hums, “Then let’s go, yeah?” He inquires, his head tilting almost in a cocky sense. 

With a grunt, you bump his shoulder and walk past him. “Whatever, fine, yeah let’s go.” You mutter under your breath quickly. 

Charlie grins, following despite your rude gesture. Thankfully, the male gives you the space you needed.  

The guards at the docks get you both suited with the diving gear, and the two of you find yourselves in a submarine. Charlie had bought some items in the shop, but you didn’t care enough to pay attention to what exactly. 

As soon as the door opened and the ramp extended, you were out for the keycard. Charlie went to pick up his gear, and you were walking through the first door once it was unlocked. 

Although you weren’t in the mood for this, you still picked up whatever research you could get your hands on. The silence was thick between the two of you. 

You were sure your ears and eyes were playing tricks on you; you were checking over your shoulder often, and even your own blinks would have you scouting out a side room or a safe locker when you were unsure if the lights flickered. Despite the tense atmosphere between you and Charlie, when an Angler would come, you were quick to drag him to a side room or open locker. He was somewhat perplexed but didn’t question you any further after earlier, you were definitely in a worse mood than before that chat. 

You weren’t looking forward to seeing Sebastian, really. He would probably make your mood worse. This made you hesitate when he calls from inside his shop once you enter the familiar room, and as always, a spotlight shone at the entrance. 

Charlie crawls in first and went to browse the stock, already having a medkit attached to his belt from the drop earlier at the drop-off zone. 

“Hablaremos más tarde, hermano. Los mercenarios.” The handyman's voice was somewhat hushed, and hasty.  

The voice on the other end was infuriatingly cheery, as always when it came to Painter. “¡Buena suerte! ¡Pásate después, he hecho unos dibujos nuevos que me gustaría enseñarte!” He responded, in Spanish, oddly enough. 

Sebastian lets out an affirmative grunt in response and turns off the walkie talkie he spoke into.  

“Welcome, welcome. Keycards on the table, you know the drill.” He pushes his hair back; his attention now directed to the two of you. 

You raise an eyebrow as you think about the end of their conversation. You didn’t understand much, but you knew some Spanish. Brother, drawing, good luck. It’s been a while, okay? “Hermano, huh?” You mumble, grabbing the keycard. 

The fishman hums deeply, “Don’t act like your bilingual for understanding one of the easiest words in my language.” He scoffs, crossing his upper arms. 

You hold your hands up in defense and roll your eyes, “Just think it’s weird you called that thing your brother.”  

“Watch it. You’re the closest to a thing down here, sharkbait.” 

Now, you bite your tongue. You started it, don’t get pissed. Don’t make him break out the excessive bombs again, or that shotgun. 

Inhaling deeply, you nod. “My bad. Bye.” You turn and crawl out now, not wanting to deal with drama at the moment. It was better to just leave. 

Charlie, who had no need for any of the items on his tail, follows suite. 

You get to the next room when your duo finally speaks, although hesitantly, “Seems like he’s, uh... Easing up.”  

The words prompt a shrug from you, “I mean, I guess. Just got used to me.” You respond. 

A few rooms later, a red laser beams when the door opens and the turret whirs to life. A familiar face appears on a screen in the room, smiling smugly. “Don’t worry! It’s filled with blanks. Totally.” The AI then snickers before the screen is back to normal. 

You sigh, getting behind a locker when possible, braced against the back of it. Charlie gets behind a crate moments later. “This thing genuinely needs to be deactivated.” You groan, smacking your head back on the locker to express your annoyance. 

Charlie sighs and nods in agreement, “I can get the switch.” He says, glancing over the crate. 

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head. “I’m not scared, Charlie! Stop acting like I’m incapable.” You growl out. 

The blond looks to you in exasperated confusion, “I n- never-” He gets cut off by you running forward to the switch and pulling it down, not without a bullet to the foot, however. 

“Fuck!” You hiss out, standing mostly on your left, uninjured foot. Your hands brace on the wall. 

No regrets, you are not scared. 

Charlie comes over, but you hold a palm to his face before he can speak, letting go of the wall. “I- It’s fine. Just- Come on.” You grunt, standing on the heel of your foot to limp out. 

The man was conflicted, watching you limp forward with much struggle. Though, after a moment, he abandons your opinion and goes to your side to grab your arm to pull around his neck and a hand to your waist. 

A strange sense of deja vu washes over you, quickly replaced by frustration, “Seriousl-” 

Charlie cuts you off, “We’re more efficient like this. So stop.” A small frown was visible when you glanced over at his face, your gaze narrowed. 

Wow. He was actually pissed. It wasn’t the pissed like in the cafeteria, that was more of exasperation. Charlie was genuinely irritated. 

You shut your mouth and nod, walking with him.