Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Psst! Over here!”

You jumped out of your skeleton, hearing the husky voice whisper through a vent. You froze and clenched the lantern in your hand so hard that your knuckles turned white. Given some of the things you had witnessed down there, you struggled to determine if the voice was real or a figment of your imagination. The idea of a speaking vent didn't seem entirely far-fetched.

Before you could further evaluate your sanity, something launched the vent cover across the room. It clattered to the floor unceremoniously. It was only then did you realize you had backed yourself against the wall from the now open ventilation shaft.

“Not even going to say hi?” 

The voice resounded from within. Your heart showed no signs of stopping, and every bone in your body was screaming for you to get out of there, but the next door required a keycard, and there were no drawers in sight. Slowly but surely, you approached the shaft and knelt down before crawling in. There was a room straight ahead. You took your flash beacon out of its holster on your belt and aimed ahead. Taking a deep breath in, as you always did before you shot anything, you awkwardly crawled out of the vent.

“Welcome-!”

You shrieked and put your finger on the trigger.

“NO, NO, NO! DON’T—!”, the voice cuts itself off. Your eyes darted around for anything you could spot until three bright blue eyes emerged from the furthest corner of the room, looming over you. You blinked, and suddenly a light clicked on. In front of you was the most peculiar creature you had encountered in your time there. It appeared to be an amalgamation of a sea snake, a fish, and a human. An angler fish, if the lightbulb that was dangling from its head was anything to go by. It stuck one clawed hand out, a desperate signal for you to stop. Its other hand was holding its bulb as if it were clicking on an old lamp.

“Hey! Hey, don’t be afraid! I’m not gonna hurt you.” It spoke in a sultry tone, unexpected of its form, yet still like a snake hissing through its teeth. “Despite what you have seen, heard, and/or been told, my name is Sebastian, your one and only friend.”

Something about the way it said that last bit struck you the wrong way. It wanted something, you could tell. Your grip on the flash beacon never faltered.

“I—.” It paused. The expression of the creature was unreadable to you, being unlike your own, more human face. It lifted one sharp finger to point at your beacon. “Before I go on, I would appreciate you putting that thing away. It’s the least I can expect from company.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your eardrums, but it was certainly at a much calmer pace than it was before. It was beginning to steady, but you suspected it was due to this thing’s voice and general demeanor. It was inviting—more inviting than you had heard in years, which were becoming a blur by now. You cautiously lowered your flash beacon to the ground.

“Good! Good. Now, where was I?” It mumbled to itself before speaking, “Ah, yes. If I am correct, your supervisors have instructed you to collect loose assets. However, if I can make it worth your while, I’m gonna ask you to cut a deal.”

You expected as much. Its bright, sharp teeth gleamed at you, as if it knew you were expecting such. It moved on, saying, “You give me any research you have on you, and I’ll give you some of these items I’ve scavenged!” It motioned towards its massive tail, adorned with flashlights, first-aid packages, and other useful equipment. “Here. You can just… pick it off my tail,” it suggested in that same strange tone from before. “Whenever you’re ready to get going, the keycard to the next zone is by the radio. Free of charge! No strings attached.”, it announced as if it were really egging you on to buy something.

You looked at it up and down and then left to right, seeing just how long its tail stretched, halfway up the other wall. It adorned modern clothing and had thick black hair atop its head.

“Hm, I’m not for sale, dear,” it teased you and swept its hair behind its ear. You lagged a little from the comment. You suspected you were growing tired of its obnoxious salesman personality and, quite frankly, its knack for speaking at all. A couple of thoughts passed through your mind as you wondered if Urbanshade would discipline you for leaking official documents, but ultimately, you did not care.

You stumbled your way over to the selection it offered. Prices were graciously written on the items, though you were not completely sure how to gauge the worth of the research you collected. Your thoughts were cut short.

“Now, I’ll bet that’s quite the battle scar you’ve got there. May I suggest a medkit?” It gestured to a white and green box on its tail.

Your eyelid twitched, and your voice came before your thoughts. “It can’t be healed.” You clapped a hand to your mouth, not as subtly as you hoped. You frowned and stared at the medkit in hopes the creature did not mention anything, but hopes meant nothing down there.

“Eh, a talker, are you?” It asked with a tinge of intrigue. It slithered its long body into a position where it could see you better. “And a—,” it stopped abruptly. It’s eyes widened. You think its eyes widened, and its toothy grin dropped. You stepped back and hovered a hand over your flash beacon. It blinked at you for a moment and then settled back into its upright position from before, never taking its eyes off you. You reached for your face, confused.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just some schmuck on your face there.” It laughed at you. It had the gall to laugh at you.

You had had enough. You huffed and snatched the keycard off the table before climbing back into the vent.

“Aw, no hard feelings, doc,” it said as you left. “Stay safe out there!”

You pushed it out of your mind and continued forward, past the next door, and then the next, and then the next, until the numbers began to blur in your head. Out of all the things you witnessed down there, that thing, that guy, was the most annoying of them all. It’s like they thought, “Oh, what other horrible abominations could we put down here?” and they decided they needed someone who talked your ear off. Nothing like having a terrible cellmate, right? You groaned, attempting to push the thought aside.

Only right before you opened the suspiciously massive double doors did you realize he called you “doc.” Then, something grabbed you from behind.

“Oh, you died. What a shame…”

Oh Hell no, you thought. It was that voice again. Did it follow you into Hell? You died, you were sure of it, and you begged whatever celestial being out there that this guy did not somehow die and follow you down here. Its glimmering blue eyes stared at you from the abyss. That same judgmental three-eyed stare.

It spoke, “We’ve already met before, which I find very impressive considering you’ve only been down here once.” You hoped it could see the distaste on your face as your lip curled up into a sneer. “Anyways, here. This’ll help you.”

Your scowl faded as a clean Manila folder was tossed onto the table in front of you. The creature peeled open the file for you to read with one sharpened claw. It revealed crisp photos of an entity, Z-90, codenamed The Wall Dwellers, as well as other information on what they were and how to avoid them. Though, the only real thing you could do was turn around whenever you heard footsteps. Apparently, the noise in your head was too loud for you to hear it creeping up on you earlier. You mentally slapped yourself.

“Watch your back next time, yeah?”, the creature hissed.

You opened your mouth to snap back but suddenly felt yourself falling, and the creature disappeared into the dark.

You were falling, quickly, and then gently, like you were dropped into the ocean. Every sound you tried to focus on muffled, and your limbs ached to move against whatever was resisting you. 

Then, your eyes finally snapped open. The light mercilessly blasted your eyes. Your head pounded. Through the muffle, you heard a siren buzz, and then you fell to your knees against the hard, cold grate beneath you. You rolled onto your side, and heaved and hacked up a clear substance. You took a deep breath in. You breathed. You breathed again. Then, the situation caught up to you, and you scrambled to sit up.

You were sitting in a metal tube at the port of the Hadal Blacksite, right where you began. The place was just as it was before. A gaping emptiness that enveloped you like a tomb. You sprung to your feet, mouth agape. 

You were alive, and your mission remained the same: Retrieve the Crystal in exchange for your freedom.

Chapter Text

On your second trek through the Hadal Blacksite, you made sure to watch your back at all times, which turned out to be worth it. You caught a Wall Dweller trying to sneak up on you, so you warded it off with your flash beacon. Unfortunately, the beacon was completely dead by the time you reached the fiftieth door, so you were unarmed when walking into the Lion’s Den. Lion’s Den, being the fish’s shop, of course.

You opened the door and watched the vent cover launch across the room. The clatter echoed throughout the hall as it hit the floor.

“Over here!” the voice whispered. Feeling an intense ache growing in your head, you figured you should just get it over with, mustering the determination to proceed. You crawled through the vent and emerged from the other end, avoiding eye contact with the creature and beelining for the selection of items on its tail.

“Welcome—! Ooh, cold shoulder. Yikes.” It cringed mockingly.

Trying your hardest not to roll your eyes, you plucked a flashlight off its tail and tossed him whatever research vials and folders you had on you, not caring to know what value they had. You flickered the light on and off before heading straight for the vent you came from and diving in, eager to get out of there.

Until the creature chuckled and said, “Ahem. Are you forgetting something?”

You twisted yourself around, halfway through the shaft already. If that guy could see the glare on your face, you were sure it could kill. You reluctantly shuffled your way back to the edge of the vent and poked your head out. The creature pulled its thick hair black back. “On the table," it clarified, pointing to the one across from him. You painstakingly pulled yourself out of the vent once more to see what he was referring to.

Sheer embarrassment washed over your face as you laid eyes on the keycard to the next room, sitting conspicuously on the table. Your shoulders tensed up, and a flush of heat spread across your face. It seriously could not have told you before you got halfway out the door, huh? You brushed it off and grabbed the card before it got the chance to make another snarky comment. It seemed it did not have anything to say either, seeing how it shut up as you left, but not before a pleasant, “Bye!”, from the other room.

Now that that was over, things went as normal from there, and this time, you made sure to focus and watch your back. This was for your freedom, and you were not about to miss your chance. Not again. You did not know how this “revival” system operated, nor if you would have a limited amount of chances to return.

Last time, you reached a gigantic set of double doors that you failed to open. Except, this time, it did not come after the sixtieth door. The doors continued like normal. A little after the sixtieth door, you came across another keycard-locked door. It was spacious with a large, open glass window on its side, which should have warned you for what was coming next. 

All you saw was a sweep of bright green light before you felt the exasperating urge to LOOK INTO ITS EYES. It beckoned your gaze. Voices of people you faintly recognized coaxed you forward. They blended together and rang in your ears. It was almost enough to tear you away from the sharp pain that singed throughout your body. 

You groaned when a particularly strong pain stung your leg and snapped you out of its gaze. Your head grew lighter as the voices continued to coax you and limelight attacked the edges of your vision. After a struggle, you managed to rip yourself from its influence by straggling your way to a room off to the side. 

It was a quaint office room, decorated with desks stacked high with papers and lockers long ransacked. You quickly scanned the room for any extra documents before snatching a lone keycard off one of the desks and readying yourself to pass through the hall once more.

Whatever that entity was, it was powerful yet merciful. Your watch displayed you still had half of your health left, whatever the hell that measured.It was enough for you to sprint to the side and forcefully jam the keycard into the reader. The door clunked open, and you felt the torturous influence leave your system completely. You breathed a sigh of relief, then another sigh of disdain at just how much health you had left. Your watch read fifty. It did not matter. You got further than last time, and a setback like this was not going to stop you. 

Except you were not paying attention to the fact there were two doors labeled with the number sixty-seven.

Something looked at you upon opening the door. You were unable to grasp the sheer size of the monster before it pounced on you. It pinned you to the ground with its gigantic red claws, searing into whatever flesh it could grab. Your heart raced frantically against it. You grabbed feebly at the claw pinning you down and thrashed your head up against the floor in a desperate attempt to escape its hold.

Just before your life flashed before your eyes, a small screen beside the door caught your attention with a message: “Sebastian asked me to do this.”

You felt a deep, sharp pain in your chest, and then you felt no more.

“Now that one’s gotta hurt.”

Your heart was beating. Blood pumped through your veins once again. The transition was so sudden, you had yet to register that you had died. Again. The disappointment of all the work you just lost in your journey settled into your bones. Your body felt weightless, a stark contrast to the heaviness in your heart.

It was the same dark place from before, like you were in the middle of the ocean. The creature shined its angler light onto the table in front of you, revealing a new document. It entailed The Good People, a combination of Z-96 and Z-779. They were a true amalgamation of one hundred and eight people in a monsterous being that somehow had access to the PA and Navi-AI systems, which would explain the message it displayed then. The idea of that mass of flesh attempting to communicate with you seemed inconceivable, yet not entirely far-fetched. You quickly learned to trust the most unusual of the information you were given in the Blacksite, no matter how questionable it was.

This fish thing, however, was a complete new variable. It appeared to want to help you, but if you could somehow trust “The Good People,"  then why did it order them to attack you? The creature was devious in its words and even more questionable in its actions.

It chuckled lowly from the dark. “Slow down a bit! You’re not on a timer… Probably.” Then, it closed the file.

You had questions for it, but when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out. Your jaw felt that debilitating resistance from before, as if you were under water, and no matter how fiercely you struggled, it refused to relent. The edges of your vision fizzled away and disappeared into the dark.

You were falling.

Further.

And further.

Until you saw the light of revival again.

Chapter Text

On your road of desperation to confront the fishman, you died carelessly multiple times, and it made sure to remind you painstakingly each and every time. You grew tired of its constant snarky quips about your performance; God forbid, you asked him to drop off an item at your starting point. 

Apparently, you could not backtalk it in its office, where it slid you files on entities because you were encased in a tube filled with that clear liquid you spat up each time you were sent back to the Blacksite. It must have been some kind of substance that preserved your body after going through the revival process. How you continued to find yourself in this creature’s office? You were not sure yet. It was one of the many questions weighing on your mind as you navigated the Blacksite with the intent of speaking to the shopkeeper. If this guy was somehow sabotaging your efforts to retrieve the crystal, then you needed to know.

A freshly discovered flash beacon sat in the holster on your belt. You opened door number forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, and finally door fifty.

“Psst! Over here!”

It was kind enough to open the vent for you, allowing you to scurry in and aim right for its head.

“WOAH! WHOA!” It thrust all three of its hands up in surrender. “What’s with the entrance, huh?” it asked with an awkward smile on its face that was beginning to falter. You were getting into dangerous territory. The creature was tens of studs larger than you, maybe hundreds, and the cube-shaped light in your hand, barely qualifying as a flashlight, was not fooling anyone. Still, you kept your hold on it steady.

You carelessly tossed a massive amount of vials, documents, and flash drives in front of it before asked carefully, sounding out each word of your question, “What do you want from me?”

It scoffed upon hearing your question and halfheartedly pleaded for its eyesight, “Oh, nooo! If only I’d gone on a whole spiel about exactly what I wanted in the first place!” It reverted to its normal, yet still mocking voice, “You should know better! Does ‘research’ ring a bell?”

It was strange how well spoken it was, given that it had been presumably held captive in the Blacksite all by itself for quite some time. You crept closer to it, keeping your aim fixed on its head. “Why did you send that monster after me?” you demanded an answer.

“What monster?” it replied with two of its hands clasped politely. It tilted its head with a rather sickening grin across its face. “We’re not monsters, doc… despite what the files have told you…”

You specified, “That big, red thing with the claws. ‘Good People’ or whatever.”

“That big guy, huh? Well, as far as I know, they can’t speak.”

It watched your grip on the flash beacon falter with a glint in its eyes, but you were not nearly done with it. There was still one question lingering on your mind since the beginning. Unable to hold back your curiosity any longer, you asked finally, “Why do you keep calling me doc?”

Its facade dropped for a moment and then returned in the blink of an eye. “What? This mug of mine not handsome enough for you to remember?” it grinned mischievously. 

“All inmates memories are wiped.”

The creature’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before it groaned, “Oh, right. I forgot about that.” It trailed off and looked to its side.

You could not care enough to play any more mind games and dance around questions with this thing. Putting your finger on the trigger, you looked it dead in the eye before saying, “Last chance. How do you know me?”

You heard the tiniest click in your left ear before a sharp, searing pain pierced through it, as if you had been shot.

You howled and shrieked in pain, falling to your knees and clasping your left ear with both hands. You felt a warm liquid trickle down your neck and seep into your hair. When you reluctantly pulled your trembling hands away from your head, you stared at them, stained with fresh, warm blood. Your head was becoming light from the combination of blood loss and hyperventilation. You could not hear yourself think.

A large shadow loomed over your pathetic figure, and you scrambled to get away from its reach before realizing you had no idea where your flash beacon went. Your bloody handprints stained the metal flooring in a putrid display of your attempt at escape.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down,” the creature lulled as it slowly approached you.

You backed up into its tail. It was closing off your only exit through the vent. You were a fool to trust this thing. It’s angler lightbulb dangled in front of its calmly smiling face as it drew closer. You gripped your hair and held your knees to your chest in a pathetic attempt to suppress your panicked breathing. Not that it would matter. Your journey was over.

“Ah, there we are…”

It was quiet. But you were still breathing. You peeked at your watch. It displayed a perfect one hundred in your health baseline. Still quivering against its tail, you peeked through a small window of light between your arms. 

The creature awkwardly bent down to pick up a miniature object from the ground. It rolled it around between its clawed fingers before crushing it in its fist. Whatever was left of it crumbled to the floor. The creature clapped the dust of its hands and sighed with relief, “That takes care of that!” It proudly put a hand on its hip before looking down at your cowering form beneath it. “Ooh, sorry”, it apologized. It turned around and slithered to the table in the back. “I’ll get a medkit for you—on the house.”

Its body was so long, its tail was still able to block the vent behind you. Any other vent was either too small or too high up to escape through, not that you could open them quick enough anyway. You were at this creature’s complete mercy and subject to whatever it just hit you with. You whipped your head around, looking for any sign of your flash beacon or anything you could defend yourself with. 

Its tail absentmindedly flicked against your back and made you jump so badly that you sprang up and scrambled to your feet. It’s back was still turned to you, sifting through whatever junk it had in its bags. Only then did you notice high above its head laid a flash beacon, sitting peacefully on a ledge, but it was still too high for you to reach, which made you wonder if the guy had taken advantage of your recent panic to swipe it from you. The creature looked over its shoulder, its blue eyes searing into you.

“Aw, you aren’t mad at me for getting that chip out of you, are you?” It asked before putting a fresh medicine kit on the table beside it. “Come on!” It pat an open spot on its tail for you to sit. “I can’t answer your questions without fixing you up. What kind of host do you take me for?” It purred.

A chip. Of course. Of course Urbanshade would have microchipped you from the beginning. Inmates wandered the halls of the Blacksite tagged like dogs to track their progress and listen to their conversations. Your eyes widened at the thought of finally being able to leave the site without detonating your diving gear, but you knew they had layers of security. You were trapped in this enclosed space, the weight of the pressure threatening to crush you if you dared to venture beyond its boundaries. You were also confined in a small, claustrophobic room with a monstrous fishman, its insistence on tending to your wounds adding to the surreal nature of the situation. You looked up at the creature, who was waiting expectantly for you to come hither. Its tail blocking the vent never wavered.

With great hesitation, you carefully limped your way in front of it. You took a peek up at it watching you patiently and with a hint of something oddly comforting in its expression. Looking back at its tail was mind opening, if anything. Given your lack of mobility, you doubted your ability to hoist yourself onto it, but your refusal to display any sort of weakness was stronger. 

You put a hand on its scaley tail, making sure it was fine to put pressure on before awkwardly flailing your body onto it to no avail. You slid off its body, hanging your head low in defeat. Until a sudden yet gentle tug under your arms lifted you off your feet and turned you around to sit you on its tail. The sudden sensation of feeling anything alive that was not attempting to kill you at that very moment was unusual to say the least, much less the thing helping you. Its smile faded into a focused expression when it began to dab at your ear with a clean cloth from the medkit. 

The situation was completely different from what you made it out to be, given that you had just waltzed in there and aimed between its eyes. The creature exuded an air of an 'ask no questions, tell no lies' demeanor, implying a mutual understanding of silence and secrecy. 

Your posture, with shoulders hunched forward and neck tense, likely hindered the creature's access to your wound. You were right, in fact, because it gently tilted your jaw up on its side so it could get a better view. It made you wonder if it had other ulterior motives than wanting your research.

Snapping yourself out of your unreasonable daze, you mustered the courage to say, “If Urbanshade—” and quickly shut up after your voice cracked. 

The creature, busy with its handiwork, hummed and muttered, “Go on.”

Your face scrunched up from the uncomfortable sting of the cold ointment being lathering on your ear, but still, you continued, “If they had that chip in me this whole time, why did you speak with me in the first place? Wouldn’t they hear you?” You held your breath, hoping you were not overstepping its boundaries more than you already were.

“Well,” its gravelly voice felt hot beside your ear. “I’ve got an scrambler for devices like those in my bag, but the tech is outdated and it tends to wear off after some time. Can’t keep ‘em listening, right?” It shrugged and discarded the cotton swab in the kit. 

“Alright!” It clapped a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. “Now I can answer your questions. From the top, now!” It settled back into its corner, crossing its arms.

You gingerly pawed at your ear. It was already bandaged up with impressive time and skill. Well, it did have three arms, you supposed. Catching yourself, you said, “Oh, yeah! Right. What I asked — how do you know me?” 

It looked shamefully off to the side, its hair falling over its face, before pulling it back out of habit. “You don’t,” it stuttered. “Do you remember your name?” It looked at you sincerely.

You shook your head ‘no’ and looked down at your hands, now only retaining remnants of blood. You absentmindedly played with your fingers.

The creature sighed and asked, “You worked for Urbanshade, right?” 

You blinked at it. “I know I was ‘demoted’.”

“No, you worked for Urbanshade, ‘doctor’. You oversaw me.”

Looking at its monsterous form sent thoughts running through your mind, none of them good. Your immediate thought was that you did this to him.

Upon seeing your devastated expression, it nonchalantly clarified, “Oh, no worries! No worries. You were the nice one — slid me snacks and junk.”

You, a doctor. Employed by Urbanshade. The realization echoed incessantly in your mind, swirling in an endless loop. You pleaded to refused its call. You are were an inmate. You were working under Urbanshade. You were demoted from a specialized doctor to an expendable. Your intellect, your expertise was expendable to them. Your entire life was expendable.

Your head pounded. You slid off its tail and stumbled to your feet. “I have to go,” you said before lumbering towards the vent. “Let me go, please.” Your hands smacked against the wall above it.

Looking at him from underneath your arm, he watched you somberly. His arm was unsteadily reaching out before it snapped back and he fixed himself. He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he replied calmly, and with that same charming smile he always displayed.

His fin moved aside to make room for you to clamber out and continue your journey.

Your life was not expendable, regardless of whether or not this newly obtained information was true. You were made to live. Every inch of you was made to live. 

You were worth so much more than that damn power source.

Chapter Text

You were beginning to lose track of your attempts, how many you had made, and what you were dying to. The shopkeeper was kind enough to refresh your memory whenever you asked at the port, but you refrained from requesting items in the submarine. It seemed to irritate him, and given how you walked out on him that day, you figured you owed him the courtesy. You had time to contemplate what he revealed about your past. Working for Urbanshade was not out of the question, but what led you to work for such an organization? If you were free to leave, why did you stay? Should you even believe him in the first place?

Other than your growing pile of doubts, you accumulated quite the amount of research in your runs, both to give to the shopkeeper and for your own viewing pleasure, not that you were exactly enjoying it. Every time you found a special-looking folder, a familiar clawed hand snatched it from you before you could open it, and by the time you turned around, it was gone. You were lucky that he showed them to you upon death, but the information was not entirely significant, just fluff about the division’s experiments, anomalies, and trinkets. Nothing you cared to know.

Now, you were taking your time in the rooms, looking for items that could help you. One of your more interesting finds was a shaker flashlight, or a gummy flashlight, as it read on its side. You had not seen one since your childhood, and its presence in the Blacksite was questionable, to say the least, but you were not complaining. Anything you could get your grubby hands on was worth it, which is why you absentmindedly pocketed a few cigarettes lying around. The researchers trashed the place enough. It was not out of the question they would drop a couple as they trampled to get out of there. Who knows, maybe you could catch a smoke break before one of the Anglers mangled you.

With a child’s toy in hand and some contraband in your pocket, you managed to reach the fishman’s shop, to which he graced you with his complaints.

“Ugh, try not to shake that thing too much in here — gives me a headache.” The fishman clad in black held his head before shaking off his distress.
It had been several runs through the site since you had last spoken to him, but given how he reacted to the flash beacon the last few times, you saw it best to shove the flashlight back in your pocket. He treated you as normally as you could imagine, with a few quips about your performance here and there, but normal nonetheless. 

You were browsing his lineup for the day as usual when you bent down to reach for a code breaker and your leg suddenly popped. Your knee gave out and your back hit the floor with an embarrassingly loud thunk. You groaned, watching the bleary gray ceiling with blurred vision and an ache growing at the back of your head.

Something shuffled in the corner of your eye and a small lightbulb dangled into view. “Oh, you’re not dead”, the shopkeeper chimed. He poked your arm with a bony claw as if he were nudging a small wounded animal. “I thought you just keeled over and died”, he laughed and straightened himself. His cackles echoed off the walls, an awful contrast to how he treated you before, you thought. 

You shrunk back into the cold metal of the floor for a moment before bracing yourself onto your elbows and hoisting yourself up. After regaining your balance, you carefully bent down to grab the code breaker and were about to spread out whatever vials and files you had on the table next to him when you saw a single Manila folder sitting on it stamped with a red, long-worn “CLASSIFIED”.

The shopkeeper loomed over you with a shiny grin that shimmered in the dark of the facility. “I can take those from you”, he said, holding out a hand to collect his wages. You knew him well enough by now to know he would not let up any information without his precious research. You looked back at the lone document, hesitant to oblige, but oblige you did. You have to spend some to make some after all, and with the way this fish's deals worked, you were lucky to be receiving any information about the mysterious file. You handed over the mess of paperwork and trinkets flooding out of your hands. The shopkeeper chuckled lowly, his voice reverberating in your ears, and shoved the papers and vials into a large satchel on his side. 
You took it upon yourself to ask the glaring question, “What’s this?”, you stuck a thumb out to the classified folder.

The shopkeeper’s grin spread even wider, beyond its means. He tilted his head happily. “I’m so glad you asked, d— friend”, he replied, quickly correcting himself. He pat the folder and drummed his claws on it, making little divots in the folder. “This is my file”, he explained. “You purchase it, and I’ll let you look at it up at the surface because, let’s be honest, you’re not making it out of here, yeah?” He nodded with a smirk.

You glared up at him. “How much?”, you asked.

The shopkeeper scoffed and said, “A thousand’s worth. Documents are twenty-five and vials are at most two-hundred.” 

You blinked at him owlishly, to which his bright blue eyes squinted back at you, unamused. Luckily, you had an ace up your sleeve. While you could spend a hundred hours grinding to afford it, you hoped this guy was ill enough to fall for your somewhat contrived bluff. As if they weren’t crushed enough, you shuffled through your pocket to find the crumpled-up cigarettes from before when you saw his eyes sparkle a tinge. His scaley lip twisted up into a sort of half-smile, half-sneer. He laughed heartily, seemingly impressed, “I thought I rid this joint of all of those!” 

You gestured toward the file questioningly, to which he tapped his chin. After giving it some thought, he smiled and plucked the cigarettes from your gloved hand. “Alright! Alright!” He waved you off with his third arm.

Grateful that he accepted such a meager offering, you quickly went to pick up the file when his big scaley hand slammed onto it. The shopkeeper tutted with a drawl as if he were disappointed. You did not even realize he had somehow already lit one of the cigarettes you gave him. Smoke drifted out of his mouth as he spoke, “Is that noggin of yours working? I said I’d let you look at it when you get to the surface.” He donned an eerie grin.

Well, he did say that, but your patience was wearing as thin as a wire. Who knows if he just said that to dupe you out of a couple of cigarettes? Sure, he was helpful enough to slide you files on entities, but himself? You were certain he had too much pride. He took another puff while he sifted through his pockets for something, presumably akin to a tray. You figured since you had just purchased the file, you were entitled to a little peek, after all. So when you were completely certain he was not watching, you peeled open the file to the first and only two pages.

Unfortunately, there happened to be two particular words, adorned with quotation marks, that caught your eye, which you made the grave mistake of sputtering aloud, “Sebastian Solace?”

You were suddenly flung around with a clamorous bang. Your spine cracked against the table. The shopkeeper hunched over you and frantically pierced your shoulders with his clawed grip. He heaved in and out. “Doc? Doc!”, he cried. His eyes widened and his teeth bared. You were no longer speaking to the monstrous beast from before. You were face to face with a broken man, begging for you to recognize him, to speak to him.

Then there was you, with not a shred of recognition in your eyes, staring blankly at him. A tinge of regret tugged at your heart, regret rooted in a memory you did not own. 

The shopkeeper’s breath stilled, his shoulders hunched over you coming to a halt. That adoring look of desperation quickly morphed into contempt upon reading your blank expression. He scoffed and slapped his scaled hand against your ear, sending a terrible buzz through your head. You shrieked.

Sat on the shopkeeper’s tail again, you gingerly brushed your fingers along the part of your ear he so gently lobbed off. 
He sighed heavily and slammed the medicine kit closed next to him. “I might as well start keeping a tab just for you,” he groaned and rubbed his scaley temples in disdain. When his searing gaze suddenly fell on you from the corners of his eyes, you felt yourself shrink back into your diving suit. 

As peculiar as he was, he was acting much differently than usual. He seemed more avoidant somehow, in the way he spoke to you and was treating you even now. He dressed your wound with a sort of indifference, and the way he wrapped the bandage around you was careless, its tail tucked behind your ear. You were sure there was more to it, but you could not speculate further without more information about your former employment if you could even trust him about that.

Before either of you could speak, a winging whine echoed through the cramped room. It was coming from the radio where the shopkeeper always kept the keycard for you.

“Up! Up!” He ushered you off of him as if he was shunning a child off to bed. As soon as you stumbled off, he made quick work shoving whatever was on the tables into the various pouches that decorated his length body. While he slithered around the room to collect his wares, you spotted his file underneath the table, so you picked it up and turned around to see a very angry fish face, glaring daggers at you. As if he was not intimidating enough, he was hunched down to meet your eye level, demanding his file back politely with one open hand. You owed it to him after everything, you figured, and you did not feel in the mood to cross him.

You passed him the file, which he stored away quickly, but not before you called out for him, “Sebastian?”

He whipped his head back to look at you, clearly surprised to see you address him. He watched you expectantly, and with a hint of that desperate expression he displayed earlier.

You took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry.”

He made no reaction. It seemed he was expecting you to say something more, so you elaborated, “I’m sorry about walking out then, I mean. I wasn’t thinking, and—.” You breathed in, your lungs tightening. “It is hard for me to believe I ever worked for this facility”, you put lightly. Your hands clasped, palms sweating as you waited for him to make a move. 

“Well, you did”, he said dryly before slithering off to collect more of his wares from across the room.

“Wait! Where are you going?”, you asked.

He snapped at you suddenly, “What do you think Urbanshade has in store for me when they find out where I am? Huh? Do you want me to sit around and wait for them to come in, guns blasting?!” His chest heaved in and out. “You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

You immediately snapped back, “No! Why would I ever want that?!”

“Because you belong to them!”

You clammed up, your eyes singed in horror as the realization weighed heavily on your heart that he was right. He was completely and utterly right. 
He recoiled at your sudden silence. You wondered if the look of regret in his eyes matched yours. He knew what it was like to be owned like a dog, and he looked at you the sane. His hands fell to his sides hopelessly as the air grew thick with tension. 

Remnants of phrases scattered in your mind before you awkwardly sputtered, “I— Sorry, where are you going again?”

He sighed, the weight of guiding the conversation taken off his shoulders as he sorted the last of his belongings away. “Some other room, I guess. I change spots every now and then”, he explained. “Can’t keep them on my tail for too long now, can I?” He flashed a halfhearted, yet apologetic smile at you. You could not help but give a polite smile back. His gaze on you lingered a little longer than normal.

A sense of urgency crept into the back of your mind as you watched him zip up the last of his bags. As much as you hated to admit it, dying over and over again was taking its toll on your conscious, and you did not know how much more you could take before you did something truly wrong to yourself. You had questions, and each answer led to even more questions. It was about time you had a real talk with the only person who accompanied you in this Hell-struck Blacksite.

“Can I come with?”

The shopkeeper looked at you like you were a Wall-Dweller. The cigarettes were a bluff, and this was reaching. Sure, you were desperate to get your pardon, but you wanted to know where the years of your life went. When you walked into the sunshine once more, you wanted to walk out knowing how old you were. You wanted to know what more you could do, and how to atone.

“Yeah, no thanks, doc.”, he replied plainly, like a record scratch to your thoughts. He crawled in a reptilian-like fashion up to the ledge above where an airlock was. “Maybe another time — if you’re nicer, of course”, he added before slithering off through the door, leaving you alone in the barren room. You came to your senses only when your diving gear started beeping, sending you diving into the vent.

After giving Searchlights the runaround, you found yourself in a massive hallway. This ward looked like more of a containment facility than the rooms you had been in, with white, industrial walls and messes of abandoned crates littered everywhere you turned. It would have been easy to get lost in it if it were not for the massive loading dock doors guiding you along. You had a run-in with a couple of black, squid creatures in the dark, and it was in your best interest to scour the side rooms for a medicine kit, which led you to a containment room. A synthetic voice rang out from behind the chain link fence.

“Ooh! A visitor!”

Chapter Text

You might as well have killed yourself earlier just to rid yourself of the pain, because you were definitely hallucinating. No way in Blacksite Hell was this box computer actually talking to you. The computer's Paint application displayed crudely drawn circular eyes and an innocent smile, reminiscent of a child's artwork. It chirped, “Before you start accusing me of whatever, I don't hate you. It's nothing personal — no idea who you are!”

You squinted at the machine, mouth slightly agape. Here you thought you had seen everything the Blacksite had to offer. Though if there had to be anything else there, a sentient computer did not sound completely out of place. You racked your brain trying to remember if you had met this thing in a previous run or if it was another ‘doctor’ situation.

“It’s just Sebastian," it continued.

Now, that piqued your interest.

“You've seen the guy around before, haven't you? He said he would help me. He promised he would get the two of us out of here! So, he asked me to delay the retrieval of the Crystal for as long as possible. I'm sorry for any ‘inconvenience’ I might have caused in the process.”

Then it suddenly clicked. The words you saw on the console that time before The Good People killed you. You looked up at the monitor and worded, “Sebastian? Told you to do this?”

Its digital face turned sad. “Sebastian will come back for me whenever he finds a way out. He just has to," it spoke pleadingly, as if it were trying to convince itself. It was hard to say if its words made you want to comfort it or question it. Still, this could be an opportunity to have your questions answered, and from a different perspective too. Its answers would let you know if it was trustworthy in due time.

You decided to ask the question that had been burning in your mind. You spoke softly, unsure of yourself, “Do you recognize me?”

Its little scribble face squinted at you before shaking side to side. "Sorry, I can’t say I do.”

Well, it was worth a try. It seemed to note your disappointment and etched two curved eyebrow lines above its eyes. It doted on you, “Aw, I’m sure somebody will.” Its robotic voice made a strange, toneless hum. “I wasn’t expecting you to ask something like that. Usually, everyone just asks if I can disable the detonator in their diving gear.” It gave an awkward laugh.

You smiled knowingly and shook your head. Even if you could get rid of the leash on your back, you were still stuck at the bottom of the ocean, and you doubted you could just hop into any submarine and politely ask it to route to the nearest Urbanshade-free location. It begged the question of how these two meant to get out. What good was it for them to sabotage your fellow inmates’ expeditions when —? Oh.

You looked the little monitor with a newfound pity.

If Urbanshade was able to extract the Crystal, they would have zero objections to letting the Blacksite sink into the ocean floor. It is no wonder why they asked you to retrieve whatever data you could pull together on your way out. They were planning to abandon it completely.

“So, um, nice weather we’re having, huh?" the computer chirped.

Right. At least this little guy was nicer than the other one. If you tread carefully, maybe you could get more information out of it. It watched you expectantly; at least, you think it was.

You started, “About Sebastian,” and stopped when you felt his name come off your tongue with more familiarity than before. The little face on the monitor blinked innocently, waiting for you to continue. “You don’t know how he’s planning to get out, do you?”

It looked off to the side. “No, not really. He said it’d all be over if they made me talk, and I don’t want to go back to Roblux Mining.” It trailed off.

“Roblux Mining?”

It let out a weary, robotic sigh. “A ‘mining’ company, if that’s what you wanna call it.” You looked at it, still confused.

“A crypto-currency company, you moron!”

What.

“Look, can you get out of here already? You’re wasting my time!" It whined and frowned at you.

Okay, clearly you had overstayed your welcome, and if whatever this thing was could actively send The Good People to your location, you wanted no part of it. “I’m going!" you cautioned, but not before swiping the classified file next to you. It glared at you backing out of the room. It definitely saw you, which is why you hauled your expendable butt out of the atrium and into the next room.

You ran as far as your aching legs allowed, each step sending a jolt of pain through your weary body. You ran and ran and ran until you heard a low roaring sound from behind you. You knew better than to question it and dove behind a cabinet in the hallway. You screwed your eyes shut, curled up, and braced yourself as the entity drew near. Its roar howled through the room and shook the walls. The lights flickered as it screamed past you. You held onto your knees, trying to steady your breath. Adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You crawled out of your hiding place and were about to turn the corner when it suddenly screamed again, and its gaping mouth engulfed you.

“Huh. That one seemed a bit different than usual.”

This was impossible. You tried to recall what door you were on, somewhere in the nineties. That lame, glowing hunk of junk was so close. It was barely in your grasp, and you lost it again. For what? The tenth time? What was the point of beating your body into the ground if you were never going to get it? Your head throbbed. Your body was just mangled, and you were already reborn again in the blink of an eye. You blinked again and watched your tears dance above you, floating in the water. As tightly as your body wrung, not one sob came from your chest.

Sebastian slid The Angler’s file to you again, but you could tell he knew you were sick of it because he clamped it shut and flung it off to the side. He slid you another crisp Manila folder with big, bold, red letters on its front. It read "CLASSIFIED.”

He opened it with a smooth flick of his finger, and to both your dismay and morbid curiosity, the title read, "the_p.AI.nter," alongside an image of the familiar computer with a fatigued, sorrowful expression. The file told the story of his creator, creations, inner-workings, interrogation, and finally, abuse of his more sophisticated power. He was set to work six days a week mining for a Roblux crypto rig, which fried his personality drivers over time. Apparently, this was intentional, as he would eventually lose the will to paint and fight back.

You were left speechless. It was never beneath Urbanshade to resort to slave labor, but reading this peculiar story left you more hurt than usual. Regardless of humanity and excellence, Urbanshade saw everything as nothing but power to be gained and skills to be harnessed, even an oddity such as this sentient AI.

The file ended stating the damage done to his personality drivers could be fixed, but doing so was deemed unnecessary, of course. It was good to hear the damage was reversible, though you knew nobody could take the memories of his suffering from him.

Something flickered in your brain—a spark of electricity that made your temples burn. Your body was trying to tell you something. It was becoming harder to gauge whether the aches in your body meant something or if it was the daily phantom pain that came along with dying, but you could feel it in your bones, an imminent realization.

The shopkeeper took your flinching as a sign to move on. He gingerly set down another folder, this one much more worn and yellowed with age. He took care to open it gently, as if it would crumble at any given moment. Your heartbeat quickened as you read the familiar title, “The Saboteur," and underneath, “Z-13, legal name Sebastian Solace is to be KILLED ON SIGHT without hesitation." The sheer volume of the text made your head spin, but you knew you had to read quickly, lest The Saboteur run out of patience.

Prior to transformation, Sebastian was a prisoner, charged with nine different accounts of manslaughter. He was sentenced to death via electric chair but was picked up by Urbanshade to be a test subject for an experiment to give humans gills. The file listed every type of animal DNA they infected him with and successfully malformed him into what he was today. He was lucky to have retained some of his human features, including his hair and torso. To your horror, it was, at some point, possible for the effects of the experiment to be reversed, but given his especially low rank, it was not deemed necessary, and if that was not enough of a kick in the teeth, he was later found to be innocent of all nine manslaughter charges.

He escaped containment by feigning anesthesia and killing a guard while being transported. After that, he went rogue, stole his shotgun and keycard, and proceeded to unlock as many entity containment units as possible, causing a massive security breach. After all researches and soldiers were evacuated, the “Expendable” protocol was initiated, and he was seen trading research with prisoners in exchange for items. It was written that his intentions were unknown, but encrypted radio transmissions revealed he might have been plotting to blackmail Urbanshade by handing confidential research over to their rival companies. They were already aware of his plans.

The dust settled. To put it simply, you were in shock. When you glanced up, his three piercing blue eyes bore into you, and your heart skipped a beat. You could sense his reluctance to speak any further. His observation was evident in his lingering gaze, dripping with hatred. You froze, devoid of any sensation in your face and unable to control your expression, but you prayed he could feel the remorse in your eyes. The struggle to keep up with it all, the memories, the miles of hallways you ventured, were all too much to bear. You begged your body to remember it all, despite the pain, but to no avail. You knew the memories and regret would continue to haunt you long after you left. Fresh tears blurred your vision, and as you closed your eyes, the sensation of falling engulfed you once again. 

Chapter Text

You found yourself aimlessly walking the halls of the Blacksite. Occasionally, you would stop to admire the inky darkness of the ocean through its towering observation windows. There was a bittersweet beauty to it, like this was truly your personalized Hell. You were doomed to wander the halls of creatures and lives you destroyed forever like a ghost. What was the point of rushing through it all if you were just going to fail anyway? That meaningless rock was not worth that kind of suffering, and you could care less about the growling of your stomach as you took longer to die.

Your psyche was crumbling. It felt painfully familiar to your body, as though it knew this suffering before. Maybe you had experienced it at some point, but in any case, you were too far gone to remember. What you could remember was that spunky expendable who was not afraid to threaten a creature three times their size with a dinky flashlight. You mourned yourself, reminiscing on the unwavering strength you had not so long ago.

You felt your legs ache again, one more than the other. It would not hurt to take a break, you supposed, opening one more door before you fell forward. Your head cracked against the cold, hard floor, and for once, you hoped you could feel blood trickle down your forehead, but all you felt were warm tears running from your eyes, dipping into the crevices of your face as they trailed down. You must have tripped. It was whatever. Your injuries would be fixed by the next revival.

A faint vibrato rang in your ear. You assumed it was the blood rushing to the other side of your head, but you knew what it was, deep down. You recognized that roar anywhere. It came from the same horrid beast that mauled you so many times: The Angler. You craned your neck to look for any lockers when your head pounded. You groaned, settling back into your position on the floor and allowing your eyelashes to flutter closed. The metal of the floor felt comforting, more than any bed in that moment. As the lights flickered and sparked and the floor beneath you trembled, you prayed this death would be the last, that your superiors were watching and would finally allow you to die in peace.

You jumped when something grabbed you from behind. Your eyes snapped open, and you tumbled around to see the shadow of The Angler rush past you. When your vision cleared and the shaking came to a stop, you realized you were looking through a vent cover. You went to sit up and knocked your head hard against the top of the vent with a resounding thunk. “Ugh,” you grimaced, nursing your layered bruises.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

You whipped around to see Sebastian close to your face. You gasped and backed into the flimsy vent cover. It creaked against your weight. The Saboteur’s eyes glowed a menacing electric blue in the dark, his perfectly adjacent to yours. The sheer proximity prompted you to hold your breath before coming to your senses and frowning. You whispered, annoyed, “What am I doing?! What? Why do you care?!” Your chest tightened at the harshness of your own words.

His eyes widened before he caught himself. “I don’t!” He shouted. You already knew that much.

You must have shrunk into yourself or made a face because he actually looked ashamed for a moment before looking off to the side. He looked closer at the shadows and suddenly tugged on his angler lightbulb. To your bemusement, it turned on, and the absurdity of the action would have been hilarious if he did not come out of nowhere to scare you like this. The light revealed another ventilation shaft to his side. You both peered down the shaft like two curious cats looking down a storm drain. Down the passage revealed a void-like darkness that looked ready to swallow you up. A quick glance at each other confirmed you were the only one starkly confused. Your eyebrows knit. You asked, “You don’t expect me to go down there, do you?”

“Where else would we be going? Go already!” He sneered.

“What?! Why should I?”

He scoffed. “You were the one begging to come with me like some lost puppy, but if you don’t want to anymore—.” He taunted you, swirling his finger around.

You were ready to kill this guy given the opportunity, but the guilt in the back of your mind slapped you for even thinking about it. Was it still worth learning more about yourself, your misdeeds? What more was there for you to hate yourself for? Your eyes dulled thinking about it.

“Don’t be an idiot, doc. Come on.”

After you swept away the tingling feeling behind your eyelids, you looked up at him. He gently gestured toward the passageway, like he was trying to reason with you. The other day, he was cackling at you for falling flat on your back, but now? He was like a sweet teenager asking you to go to the ice cream parlor with him. Not that you were ignoring the whiplash, but the offer was somewhat inviting. You were ready to die to Angler for the fifth time just now. Hell if he wanted to kill you in a heartbeat. You had nothing left to lose, not even your life anymore.

So, with contempt in your heart, you took one last look at him before crawling in front of him and down the ventilation shaft.

The vents were coated with dust, caked even, and your mangled diving suit was generous enough to pick it all up. Sebastian tailed closely behind you, his light dancing all around the passageway. It made you wonder how he was getting around. Sure, he slithered, but you imagined his tail was too big to fit through such narrow vents. It must have been trailing behind him as he went. He guided you around the dusty labyrinth, annoyingly — very annoyingly.

“Go right.”

“Right again.”

“Can you hurry up?! You’re taking all day.”

“Left.”

“What? Do you want me to carry you too?”

You came to a stop and hung your head low in frustration. You whipped your head around to glare at him, squinting past his lightbulb. He rolled his eyes at you, at least, you think he did. “I’m being serious!” He whined. “You’re taking forever! I can just squish you in my pocket and carry you like that.” He grinned at you with his Cheshire Cat smile.

You rolled your eyes back at him, taking care to make sure he noticed. His teasing made you wonder if you should have just crawled out and slammed the vent cover in his face when you saw him before, but you already made your decision, and you had to live with it.

You continued on, even crawling up and down some shafts to get wherever Sebastian was taking you. You assumed it would be his hideout, but considering how deep you two were going, it was not out of the question to consider that he was taking you to Painter’s containment cell. Still, you followed the blind man down the yellow brick road.

Eventually, he finally led you to the opening of an empty room. You crawled out of the shaft and off to the side, leaving enough room for Sebastian to get out. Your back and knees ached from spending so long in such a cramped space, so you were more than grateful to stretch to your heart’s content. Hearing your joints pop and snap felt as good as a hot shower on a cold night. You splayed out and sighed, feeling pleased enough to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them, you were greeted with a rather displeased fish face staring down at you. If he had a foot, he definitely would be tapping it right now. Much to your dismay, you performed the strenuous act of sitting up for your heckling audience.

“Alright, put your mask on,” he said. “We’re going down.”

You looked at him confused until you looked down to see a sizable waterhole in the floor beside you, its support rods haphazardly poking out every which way. There were little green lights in the water that seemed to be leading the way down, but before you did anything, you wanted to know, “Where are you taking me?”

“Narnia. We’re going to that little devil’s room — Painter.” He answered. He was crossing his arms, and his third hand was tapping his wrist like there was a watch.

No wonder why the journey was taking so long. It was not like he had any one hideout anyway. Based on the last time you saw him, he just packed everything up and moved on to the next place he could set up. It was probably hard living like that, you thought before strapping on your diving mask.

You were about to ask him why you were going to see Painter when he looked at you, laughed, and said, “You look pretty stupid.”

It was getting really hard to feel for him when he was being such a nuisance to you. You sneered at him before dipping your feet into the water. The underwater portions of the facility were always the hardest for you. Luckily, you were equipped with way more oxygen than you needed for a single run — the only time you would ever praise Urbanshade.

You watched Sebastian as you instinctively held your breath and sunk yourself into the water. It was a tight squeeze as you struggled to swim forward enough to give him room to follow you, but the path opened up as you inched further. One perk of swimming with him was that you couldn’t hear him complaining about you, and that relaxed you somewhat.

After the initial struggle, you emerged from the small hole into a gargantuan, open-out observatory tank. It was so big, you could not see the bottom even if you squinted.

You moved to the side to allow Sebastian to pass. If you were struggling to get through there, you could not imagine how he felt. He came out of the hole with his long, scaly tail trailing behind him, and only then did you see how big he really was. He danced around the water with ease as he came up close to you and pointed toward the abyss in front of you. You looked at him with wide eyes as if to say, “You don’t expect me to swim in there, do you?!” To which he frowned at you and pointed insistently, “Yes, I do!” You glared at each other for a moment before you looked back at the gaping blue expanse and reluctantly mustered the strength to start swimming forward. It is not like you could die down here. Not for good, at least, you reasoned with yourself.

Being in the open waters felt like nothing you had ever experienced before. There was nothing but water in all directions, and it was starting to feel a little suffocating, but you pushed the fear into the back of your mind and carried on. You would get through this, eventually. You just had to keep swimming.

Unlike in the vents, Sebastian was able to swim beside you, but every time you looked at him from the corner of your eye, he was just staring up ahead with an intense, focused expression. It made you wonder what he was thinking, bringing you along. Realistically, he probably just wanted to blow something up with your PDG for fun, but he seemed much more determined. Something was definitely on his mind, and you would make sure to mention it as soon as you could.

You both swam on until Sebastian suddenly came to a stop. He looked behind himself and watched intently. Did he see something? You wondered. You stopped moving as well, hoping you would not interfere with his senses. He waited and watched.

Then, you saw something. The water changing color. Green. A light was coming closer. You had a strange desire to LOOK INTO ITS EYES, and Sebastian suddenly snatched you and pulled you into his arms.

He tore through the waters with you held tightly to his chest. He was moving so fast, it felt like you were being dragged into a current, a whirlpool. You tried to shut your eyes, but you WANTED TO SEE THEM AGAIN. You stuffed your face into Sebastian’s frilled collar and held onto him for dear life. Your heart was thumping in your ears, and you tried to steady your breathing the best you could, but you felt faint. Your legs went limp against the sheer speed Sebastian was going at. They dangled around like a doll as he weaved around open pipes and support beams.

He was in too much of a hurry, though, and your leg sliced open on an old pipe. You howled under your mask and clawed at his jacket, but your screams were muffled by the water. Tears flooded your mask as you begged him in your mind to get you out of there. You could feel yourself shaking against him.

Your vision began to blur, the green water glittering above you pleasantly. It was starting to become oh so beautiful until you were suddenly dragged up and out of the water. Your body felt the familiar sensation of heaviness as you were thrown onto the cold metal floor. The moment you got strength, you ripped your mask off and coughed and heaved.

Your wails reverberated in your chest and echoed against the walls of the facility. Your forehead bruised against the icy cold floor while you gripped your leg. It was going to fall off. You could feel it. It was going to come clean off, and you would bleed out onto the floor. The blood would match the tears pooling from your eyes, spilling all over. Your throat stung as it managed to squeeze out another pathetic wail. Your energy centered on gripping whatever was nearby, though it was a poor attempt to stifle your cries.

It was until something cold rolled up your pant leg that you managed to open your eyes for a moment before screwing them shut when another bolt of pain hit you. You flinched and winced. After everything you had been through, your first instinct was to fight back, but your body protested. You trembled, a combination of the icy cold suit soaking into your prison garb and the sheer overwhelm of the pain searing through your nerves. If there was any God, anyone out there, you begged them to end it now. It hurt. It hurt so much. You prayed for them to forgive the horrors you’ve caused and finally let you rest. After everything, did you not deserve it?

No. No, you did not.

“Pipe down already, will you?!”

If that ragged voice was not enough to awaken you from your stupor, then the adrenaline must have kicked back in because you found yourself wearily looking up. This was not God. This was a scaly jerk tending to your wounds. Your vision was still blurry, but you could vividly make out his movements, rummaging around in a medkit he got from who-knows-where and wrapping bandages around your bare leg. You squinted, trying to make out his expression too, but the most you could see were his bright eyes, focused only on your injury.

Before the fuzziness in your brain took over and your eyes drifted closed, you could only think of one, unbelievably stupid thought:

He was totally going to rack up a bill for this.

Chapter Text

It felt different than death. You could tell. Hazy memories and visions faded in and out of your concussed brain. You tried to hang onto each thread, every sliver of consciousness that you could, but the scramble of sensations dizzied you back to sleep each time. If there was anything that kept you fighting that cold, dark sleep, it was that you could feel him. You could feel his slight warmth, the icy chill of his soaked clothing, and the vibrations of his ragged, bitter voice. It seeped its way through to your chest and straight to your beating heart, like a defibrillator.

You shot up, panting like a dog. You winced and grabbed instinctively at your leg, but when your trembling hands landed on it, you were surprised to find it was neatly wrapped in a thick cocoon of bandages. You immediately recognized the neat pattern of Sebastian’s bandaging. The idea of him flickered in your mind a little too familiarly, too fondly for you. It was no wonder why you jumped out of your skin upon hearing his voice.

“Rise and shine!”

You shrieked. You shrieked so loudly. It was like he grabbed your lungs. It even startled him. His neon blue eyes widened and his lips parted as he caught his breath. You both stared at each other for a moment, frozen in place.

The shopkeeper’s well-kept clothing was now wrinkled to Hell, creases and divots standing out all too much. It looked to be recently wet. Oh, but they were. The events right before you passed out were coming back to you now. Sebastian had grabbed you and rushed you out through the facility underwater to escape that green-eyed monster, Eyefestation. You looked back up at him and watched his gills breathe in and out as he blinked at you, still trying to catch his breath.

Just then, a familiar robotic voice chimed in, “Yeesh! What did you do to this one, Sebastian?”

It was only then that you realized you were in Painter’s containment room. The little computer sat peacefully on the desk behind the chain-link fence. The room’s decrepit lights flickered against the concrete walls, and the cell was terribly cramped. Sebastian was scrunched up in the corner in front of you by the door, looking awfully like a wet cat trying not to take up most of the space.

He twisted up his lip and made a head motion that looked like he was rolling his eyes. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled.

You hated to admit it, but you froze in the presence of the Painter. Your last interaction with it was frightening to say the least, and you still had half a brain to defend yourself even with your injury. Alas, your weakened body could do nothing more than hold itself and shiver from the biting frost of your diving suit. You shuddered under your breath before bringing your good knee up to your chest, a feeble act of self-preservation.

Sebastian’s mouth curled into a curious, devilish smile, looking from you to the Painter. “More like what did you do to them? Put some bullets through this one’s skull already?” He pointed at you and grinned. What.

The Painter rolled its little sketchy eyes and scorned, his voice synthetically nasal, “Oh, please. Their skull’s too thick.”

As if it had heard him, a bolt of pain throbbed from your leg straight to your temple like lightning. You held your head and let out a groan when your hand brushed the side of your face, and you felt your left ear. It was wrapped tightly in clean bandages once again. There was no tracker. No lobe either…

Sebastian glanced at you, concern etched in his face for a split second before he sighed loudly and folded his three arms over himself. “Alright, enough jabbering.” He turned to you. “Now that you’ve gotten your precious beauty sleep, we can finally discuss what I brought your sorry butt here for.”

Still delirious from the pain and adrenaline, you stared between the two of them a couple of times before your sorry butt slurred, “What…?”

To nobody’s surprise, both of them sighed and facepalmed. You scoffed and squinted at them. How could they expect you to know what was going on after everything that just happened? Sebastian rubbed his temples, years of exhaustion showing on his face. “Please, for the love of God, do not make me regret this,” he grumbled.

He straightened himself and took a deep breath before speaking plainly, his expression serious, “I’m going to propose a job to you, doc.”

You knit your brows at him. It was becoming second nature for you to doubt every little thing he said, despite his generosity.

You held your leg close to your body, pressed it against your stomach, and turned to look at the Painter. His little, sketchy eyes watched you expectantly. You felt the need to choose your words carefully as your eyes drifted between the two of them. You frowned and asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me what you needed me to do for you earlier?”

Sebastian took another deep breath. His gills fluttered beautifully. “If you must know,” he started with an overly pleasant smile. “I had to do some ‘reconnaissance’ with my dear friend here.” He gestured to Painter, who was smiling innocently. “Had to perform some extra measures for the next part of our plan, which involves you, our dear expendable.” He grinned maliciously, his eyes matching the gleam of his sharp teeth.

You chewed your lip, afraid to ask what they could possibly need your help for. You could already feel it in your bones these two were about to stir up some trouble, and you were averse to it already. You met the Saboteur’s gaze worriedly. Your sweat ran cold.

He reacted almost endearingly to your nervousness, smirking a bit. He let out a low chuckle and teased you, “Oh, come on now. We’re not that bad, are we?” He shared a glance with Painter, who simply rolled his little eyes. Sebastian sneered and continued, using his hands to exaggerate his words, “Look, we could totally let you go and keep getting yourself killed over and over again in this godforsaken purgatory—or—we could help you help us get out of here altogether! Like a nice, happy family. Doesn’t that sound just great?” He said that last part lowly, in the same way he spoke when he wanted something from you. You recognized it by now.

You stared at him blankly, unimpressed. By all things holy, you wanted nothing more than to give him a piece of your mind for all the things he put you through down here, but he was unfortunately correct about your poor, cruel process. He knew that better than anybody else, even Urbanshade themselves. It made you consider his offer for a moment, but you would need to know all of the details first. This fish was a slippery one, and you knew he was probably willing to chuck you into Searchlight’s maw at any given moment while he and his buddy walked out the exit.

The facts remained: Only one expendable could retrieve the crystal and their freedom; Sebastian knew you, and you were apparently different to him than the others, different enough to save you from certain death and patch you up with his precious medical supplies multiple times; and last but not least, you completely sucked at navigating the Blacksite. At the rate you were going, you were definitely on your way back to the slammer.

You looked up to meet his gaze, and the moment you did, you could tell by the twisted grin on his face he knew he was getting through to you. To your deep reluctance, it had been decided.

Over the next few hours, you spent your time in the cramped containment cell with the Saboteur and Painter, mulling over the little details of this grand plan Sebastian had for you all. As Painter mentioned before, Sebastian neglected to tell him all the details of the plan, lest Urbanshade get their grubby hands on Painter and shake the information out of him. The ‘reconnaissance’ Sebastian mentioned before was him unplugging him from his communication with Headquarters and Roblux Mining. It was a double edged sword, being that they were also losing information from the mainland, but it was necessary to execute the next phase of the plan, and Painter had been kept in the dark for far too long.

While talking, Sebastian casually mentioned to you, “Hey! You’re finally getting your question answered! What I’m doing with the research!”

Sebastian had been stuck in the Blacksite for long enough to accrue a suggestible amount of blackmail against Urbanshade. When asked how he was going to weaponize it, he explained to you how utterly ‘delighted’ Urbanshade’s rivals would be to get their hands on their hard work, and if Mr. Shade really did decide to shoot him in the back as instructed in his file, then he’d at least get one Hell of a kick out of annoying them just one last time. Of course, he knew a little blackmail would not be enough for those high horses at HQ. He knew you guys would need something of magnitude, something Mr. Shade would kill to have his decaying hands on, and what better than that shiny, glorious crystal he wants so badly?

That’s right. Sebastian wanted you to get the crystal and make Urbanshade decide if they want their precious power source to sink into the deep ocean floor for decades to come or let a little fish and his pets mosey out of there, free of charge.

It was easier said than done, of course, and your anxiety only grew as he explained further. Sebastian would give you all the information he had on the entities on the site and train you to get past the Ridge while he figured out how to properly disable the detonator in your diving gear. As for why he wanted you to do it?

“Do I look expendable, doc?!”

No, he did not. While he could swim to save both your life and his, heading into the Ridge would be a death sentence for him, one that he could not revive from. So, it would fall on your shoulders to trek the wretched Ridge and retrieve the crystal while he and Painter take a safe route to the loading docks at the end of your journey, where the blackmail will take place.

By the time Sebastian was done spouting his wisdom, your brain was pretty much fried. It was all unbelievably far-fetched and convoluted, and your experience in the Blacksite was more than enough to warrant a psychologist tossing you into the psych ward. Far be it from Sebastian to ever explain why he was dragging you along either. He was being kind to you, abnormally so. Sure, saving you from the Angler and patching you up when he would like a chat was sweet and all, but taking you under his wing to help you get out of there was something else entirely. What could you have possibly done in your past to warrant this level of attention from him?

Now that you thought about it, the search for the answer to that question is what led you to where you were now, roasting mutated fish with him and the Painter over a matchstick fire, courtesy of Urbanshade’s survival kits. How convenient!

You had all been talking for some time, and thankfully Sebastian was hospitable enough to go out and fish up a fresh Urbanshade concoction for you and him to eat. Apparently, sea snakes required a lot of calories, so getting you a little extra food was nothing to him. Watching him tend to the amalgamation over the fire for you only fueled your need for the truth even further. By all known logic, Sebastian should have ripped your body apart the moment he saw an Urbanshade employee who worked on him, so why were you any different? What else did you do besides ‘slide him snacks and junk’?

“I’d hate to be in that brain of yours, doc.”

When you looked up, Sebastian was shaking his head, smiling fondly as he tended to the fire. He must have noticed you thinking so hard. His comment sobered you, and you snapped out of yourself to shuffle closer to the fire, rubbing your dry hands together and sneaking glances at him and the Painter.

Painter was taking the entire thing surprisingly well, and you found your anxiety lessening over the time you spent with him. Despite his personality drivers being on the fritz, he was a sweet sentient thing, and being unhooked from Roblux Mining seemed to be helping his psyche a lot. His perfectly square screen displayed the default drawing software framing a half-drawn image, and if you squinted just hard enough, you could see his cursor meticulously drawing delicate, well-thought-out strokes, like how a human would use a mouse. It soothed your aching head, riddled with worry about this whole ordeal, but there was one other burning question on your mind.

“Sebastian?” you called.

He looked up, slightly surprised, before looking back down and focusing on the food again. He spoke haggardly, his voice like gravel, “Yeah?”

“I know you took out the tracker.” You paused to paw at your bandaged ear. “But still, won’t they know I’m taking an awfully long time to get through here? How long are we planning to do all this?”

“As long as it takes for you to survive the Ridge.” He replied, matter-of-factly. He looked up at you again, a smirk tinging at the corner of his lips. “As for HQ, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, doc! The expendable process is automated!”

Oh. Well, that did make sense. Sort of.

“But when I enter the site—“

“HQ is gracious enough to escort you in, but the moment you open the first door, they move on to the next poor soul in line, which is why we’re going to need to be very careful once you get out of the Ridge.” He frowned and sternly jabbed his finger at you. “The moment those guys realize they’ve finally got somebody close enough to the crystal, all bets are off. The entire HQ will be breathing over your neck,” he spat.

Something about the way he spoke to you, with such accusation and vigor, perhaps, gave you a strange feeling of self-awareness you could not shake off. You held yourself and rubbed your arms close to the fire.

The flame danced around, the smoke rose out the doorway, and some charred bits of the mutant fish crumbled into the kindling. Painter drawing and Sebastian cooking for you and him gave you another strange feeling, something warm and domestic. The cramped room began to feel a little cozy. Maybe it was your brain clinging onto whatever shred of sanity it had left, but you liked it. Hell, maybe these two had something going. You made sure to hold the memory of that night tightly as Sebastian handed you a metal rod of the fish meat to eat. He said something you weren’t paying attention to. You were too busy paying attention to how gently he handed you everything, how softly he spoke to you while doing so, and how happy he looked to see you eat, how sweet his smile was.

Maybe you really were losing your mind.