Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hurry! Take her to the chamber!"

"On it, ma'am!"

"No! I can't go there! Not again!

Please!

Please, no!"

A whir erupts in the quiet, ruined room; a whoosh of thick, white smog fuming from a now opened preservation chamber. Its glass door is cracked and has smudges on it, as well as some curious-looking, dusty, green residue here and there. There is absolutely no one in this room or even the facility this room is in. No one, but a single 13-year-old girl who stands unconscious in the foggy chamber.

Why is it so loud?

Why am I so.. cold?

Why... Where am I?

With a gasp, the girl's eyes shoot open, and she falls to the cold, pavement floor with a thud. She groans, the impact of her body to the floor causing a large desk in the room to shake. Glass shatters from behind her, startling the girl. She fumbles to her feet, limping a bit.

"God, how long was I out for?" she asks herself, her voice taut and hoarse. She exhales dramatically out her mouth, making a wheezing sound. She hits her upper chest with her fist to clear her throat, feeling something rather fleshy.

She glances downwards, relieved at the sight of clothing. Quite ugly clothing, to add. She is clad in a white, leather-like tank top and long shorts of the same material. Her feet are sore and bare. Looking forwards again, she begins walking towards a doorway. A little bit of light is shining through the doorway; it's just enough for the girl to see somewhat clearly. Some dim, blue light emits from the preservation chamber, but it's slowly dying out with every step she takes.

The girl cautiously steps into a dimly lit, narrow hallway. Looking behind her, she sees a dead end. In front of her is an extremely steep set of stairs. Tiptoeing towards the stairs, she begins to climb them almost like a ladder, so she doesn't fall. The higher she climbs, the more she can see an opening, emitting a cold, unwelcoming light. She shudders, not sure why, but the sight before her is unnerving.

She reaches a surprisingly rusted bunker doorway, that appears to be made of metal. The doors seemed to have been blown off of their hinges, showing the somehow pitch black room that would soon be explored. The girl places her hands on the doorway. The rough texture of the rust ticks at her hands, causing her to flinch away from the metal frame, holding her hands wearily. With a huff of effort, she thrusts herself upwards and onto the broken tile floor of the new room. Goosebumps freckle her arms, as she shivers, rubbing her arms to stay warm.

Looking around, she sees high-tech, government looking equipment and computer machines lined up on one wall, and another on the opposing wall. The right wall of computers seems more in-tact than the other, broken swivel chairs scattered across the room. It almost looked as if a mini-tornado ravaged the room, then left. Taking careful steps, the girl explores the room. Looking at every crack in each wall. Every broken object. Everything she can see.

She begins to feel overwhelmed by everything, a classy dreadful feeling consuming her whole, and making its way to cover her entire body. The fact that she has no idea what is going on, let alone who she even is, makes her eyes widen. She gulps, the warm feeling flowing down her clammy body. Down, down, down...

Why can't I remember anything? Where am I? Who am I?! Is this a dream? It'd be a sick one, of anything... Please wake up, this is just a dream. It has to be a dream!

She runs her fingers through her hair and tugs, her breathing becoming labored as her palms go cold. She paces, trying to calm her breathing, but to not avail.

What the fuck is going on?!

Her feet give from beneath her and she slips on a paper of some sort, making her fall onto her bottom, a grimace of frustration plastered on her face. She sobs a bit, a tear dripping down her face. Taking her hand, she swiftly swipes it away, staring at the liquid on her hand in anger, her fingers curling into claws, shaking with rage. She cries out, a growl in her yell rasping at her throat. Quick to her feet, she throws debris around, smashing the already broken set of computers with her fists. She punches at the broken glass screens, cutting her knuckles as more blood smears and drips from her hands with every blow she lands. She picks up a large piece of a broken swivel chair and chucks it across the room, smashing one of the untouched computer sets.

She seethes, breathing heavily, her hair a mess. Looking at the mostly undamaged computers, she sees her reflection on the black screens. Her wrinkled eyebrows obscuring her squinted eyes. Her teeth bared as if she were a vicious animal. Her nose scrunched up with flared nostrils gives off a sense of fury. Her features relax, her eyes widened with shock and her mouth gaped. She approaches the machines, examining herself closer. 

She has pale skin with faded freckles, a few darker than the others. Her freckles are predominantly on her cheeks under her eyes, and all the way up the bridge of her nose and scattered on her forehead. The rest of her skin, that is visible to her now,  is lightly peppered with more freckles; on her cheeks and chin, up and down her arms and legs. Her poofy, dark brown hair is almost a bit curly; frizzy, loose ringlets framing her face. And her eyes. Deep green irises with brown hints are set in her skull. Her eyelashes are a deep, dark brown.

Stepping backwards, she turns around. She knows what she looks like. This knowledge does not help her in the long-run.

Her bare foot stops on a paper of some sorts, probably from earlier when she fell. Her glance shifts downwards, revealing a coffee stained piece of paper. Or maybe it was just old. She can't decide which. Bending her knees, she picks up the paper, bringing it closer to her face. Her eyes scan the page then widen. She can't believe it. After what she didn't know, she can not believe it. There is a photo of her in the top left-hand corner, followed by a list of traits and information. Most of it has been disfigured by time, leaving it to be rendered as gibberish. But, one thing sticks out. A name. Her name.

A smile tugs at her lips, as she chuckles a bit. "My name is..."

Chapter Text

"My name is... Marlowe?"

Marlowe is what the top of the papers read, below it lies some sort of corporate name. She can't make it out. The printed ink is too faded, and most parts of the stapled packet are torn off. What she can make out is that she is 13 years old now, 5'4, and 127 pounds. Cool to know, not much she can do with it though. Below her name is the word "Agent" followed by "0M13A". Curiosity coursing through her, she hums in confusion.

Am I some sort of... government agent? What if I'm a secret agent of some sort? Like a super spy in the movies!

A flap of paper hitting the floor startles her, interrupting her excited thoughts and theories. She spins around to see a single parchment file on the floor. Walking over to it, she picks it up. By some stroke of luck, it seems perfectly intact. The contents of the folder are hidden extremely well, and though the file seems empty, it has a bulk near the middle, capturing Marlowe's curiosity. Opening the folder carefully reveals a watch not much larger than, say, an Apple Watch. The screen is a bit larger than the screen of an Apple Watch and is rounded a bit to look like a sizeable Fitbit. Written messily on the inside of the file are instructions of some sort. Marlowe hums in confusion, staring at the watch in her hand, then back at the folder.

"What even is this?" she curses under her breath, extremely exasperated at this point.

"Put the watch on. Tap the screen 3 times. State your agent name." She reads out loud, her voice echoing a bit in the dark room.

"That's straight-forward enough." She says, strapping the watch on her left wrist. It's clunky for its size, hurting her arm. Taking her finger, she taps at the screen exactly 3 times. Tap. Tap. Tap. She waits a bit, not expecting anything.

... Nothing. Of course. She groans, tapping the screen 3 times more. Tap, tap, tap. Nothing. Again. Tap tap tap. Still nothing. She yells out, frustration consuming her whole. She tries again, with much more force this time. TAP TAP TAP! The screen shimmers a bit, before lighting up with a green glow. She gasps, a big smile forming on her face.

"Yes!" She whispers, doing a little fist pump of success.

"Please  state  your  agent  code." A robotic voice says.

"Marlowe," she states confidently. A buzzer goes off for a bit.

"Access denied," it says.

What?  She thinks, her face shocked and confused. "Marlowe," she says again, much less confident than before.

"Access denied."

Throwing her head back in frustration, she groans. "This is impossible,"

"Access denied," it says again, Marlowe groaning in response. "All A.I. and files on the device will be deleted unless the correct agent designation is classified in the next 30 seconds."

"What?!" Marlowe shrieks, as the watch begins the countdown.

"30, 29, 28," it lists, sending the exasperated teen into a full-blown panic. Running her fingers through her hair harshly, she whispers under her breath shakily as tears prick at her eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Frantically looking around the room, looking for something, anything, that might give her a hint, her attention is averted back to the paper from before. Agent 0M13A. That's it.

"10," the watch says. "Agent 0M13A!" Marlowe falters, her voice squeaky. 

"9, 8," it continues.

"AGENT. 0M13A." she breaks down each word, trying to sound as clear as possible.

"7, 6, 5,"

"AGENT 0M13A!"

"4, 3, 2..."

Silence greets the room as Marlowe holds her breath as if it helps her in this situation. Her lips purse up tensely, as her eyes widen intensely. Cold sweat forms all over her as the stress builds. Staring at the watch intently, waiting for something... Anything..!

A ding sounds, echoing off of the walls and throughout the bunker. Marlowe's breath hitches.

"Access granted." the watch says, having Marlowe sigh in relief as she falls onto her back.

"Oh, thank god!"

"Video available for Agent 0M13A." the robotic voice says, as the screen blinks three times. "Tap the screen to begin the hologram video,"

Marlowe, having no other choice, taps the screen. A video pops up in front of her, full of static and malfunctions.

"Yikes," she says, cringing at the awful quality. A quiet buzzing plays in the background of the video.

The static clears a bit, showing a woman with white, curly hair in some sort of sci-fi-like armour. Her skin was darker, seeming to be a rich brown but is diluted by the green hologram light. She's in the same room Marlowe is in now, except it's perfectly intact. There are other people there, but something's off. They're all scared. They're terrified. Marlowe's eyes widen as she recollects memories.

"I hope this thing is on. It's my only way to speak to you, my Dynamo," she says, her voice strained with stress.

"Mona," Marlowe gasps, dust flowing into her throat. She coughs, clearing her throat. Gasping for air, she quiets down.

"I know you may not remember me or anything I'm going to say, but you need to listen closely," Mona speaks, looking around frantically.

Screams and crying ring in the background of the video as people run around in every which way. An army of people rushes out in armoured suits and high-tech weapons, leaving the facility. Some people run down hallways, others are dragged away by people in hazmat gear, flailing and screaming in fear. There is odd-looking green residue on their bodies. One of the people being dragged away looks off. Their skin has green undertones, and their veins are so visible that it seems like they're on top of their skin. Green bruises cover their body and green blood drips and pours from their open wounds. It's all... green?

Mona begins to speak again, before someone runs into her, causing her to drop the device she was recording with. The video breaks up, static filling the screen every so often and the audio messed up. People's feet are fleeting the scene as the device gets kicked around. Mona rushes to the device, picking it up and hitting her hand on the side to fix it. It does something, not fixing entirely, but doing enough to record better. She's breathing heavily and sharply, fear grimacing her face. She runs her fingers through her hair, looking around frantically.

"Look, Marlowe. You need to-- kingdom, democracy, republic I don't care. Just go---" the video breaks up, leaving chunks of audio here and there. Marlowe tensely hits the side of the watch, hoping it'll fix itself.

"Come on! No, no, no!" she says under her breath, her voice shaking. It doesn't do anything. It's no use.

"Take-- Over-- Be--- HELP! Don't let anyone get in your way. No one at all." Mona breathes shakily. "And stay safe. You're our only hope as of now."

The sounds of someone struggling can be heard in the chaos. Two people drag a girl down the hallway. Correction; two people drag Marlowe down the hallway. Marlowe gasps at the video, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"What do we do with her, General?" one soldier asks Mona, who points to a separate room. 

"Hurry! Take her to the chamber!" Mona yells, a growl in her voice. Her brows are knitted together as she tries to take control of the chaotic situation at least a little bit.

"On it, ma'am!" the other soldier salutes Mona, pulling Marlowe away with the help of their cohort.

"No! I can't go there!" Marlowe shrieks, scrambling to get away from the soldiers' grips. She fails miserably, as the soldiers continue to drag her away. "Not again!"

Her pleads and screams echo amidst the frantic crowd of scared people, ultimately disappearing as a door slams. The two soldiers eventually return and rush to battle where gunfire and explosions can be heard.

Mona sighs, sadly, looking back to the device. She opens her mouth to speak again but is interrupted by a distant growling. It continues as people scatter everywhere. Mona attempts to concentrate on the suspicious noise, to no avail as the commotion of the fear-stricken people run around aimlessly, making an ungodly amount of noise.

Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, her posture slips and her eyebrows knit together, when she yells. "Everyone, shut it!"

A few people look at her in utter shock and disgust as others calm down, questioning her actions. "That is an order," she states, her eyes squinting angrily. People look around fearfully, wondering what's going on now.

The video breaks up a bit once more, Marlowe's hand still cupping her mouth, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Silence greets the crowded area. Computers begin malfunctioning, buzzing and beeping as static and glitches fill every screen. A few fuzes pop and crackle, causing more yelps and screams to erupt. The LED lights in the room flicker, and a few fizzle out. People begin to panic once more, rushing to figure out what's going on.

"Ma'am! All systems are down!" someone outcries, as to which Mona looks to them worriedly. "I can't access anything!"

A scream rings from another room, followed by a loud thump. Wet scrapes can be heard coming down hallways, as other people scream, and thumps follow after each. A guttural groan gurgles from the doorway. The sight of the horrid creature causes the crowd to disperse again, screaming in terror. It's the same person from earlier who was being dragged away.

Their skin seemed to have melted off of their face, leaving but green, fleshy remains. Their veins are bulging and pulsing sharply, and their wounds are infected severely and seem to be oozing a bright green sludge. Their eyes are glowing green and bloodshot, and black liquid is dripping down their face. They look like they used to have the body of a human, yet now it's walking on all fours.

Marlowe's eyes widen as she gasps, her eyes dry and stinging, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. The video flickers as the creature looks directly at Mona. It charges at people, ripping their faces off with their teeth and tearing through people's flesh as easily as you could tear a piece of paper from a notebook. Pouncing from person to person, the creature roars, blood dripping from its mouth.

Mona, as well as a few other people, pull out weapons and shoot at the humanoid thing, trying to keep it at bay. It gets hit about five times, shrieking with each of the impacts. It drops to the floor, bleeding black ooze. It gets back up, retching a bit, then it gags, coughing up black blood and holding its wounds.

It gags harder, staggering towards Mona. Its skin begins to bubble up, expanding even. Mona shoots it again, and it screams. It groans, over and over and over, expanding further. Mona gasps.

"Fall back!" she warns, running from the scene. Although it's too late. The thing pops, green exploding everywhere, and the video shuts off.

"Video ended." the automated voice says.

Marlowe sits in shock, her hand squashed on her mouth and her eyes wide. Her hands drop to her lap and she flicks at the watch.

"What. The. Fuck." she whispers, her eyebrows furrowing, pushing her eyelids down.

Pushing herself up to her feet, Marlowe brushes off any dirt or filth from her legs. Sandy pieces of broken tile click as they hit the floor, bouncing a bit here and there. Scanning the room, Marlowe hums to herself.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asks herself, pulling at her tangled hair, a few strands falling from her head and into her clenched fingers. She flicks away these stray threads, moving throughout the room once more.

A sharp pain enters her foot causing her to recoil back, seething at the sudden dismay. She knocks into a computer set, it smashing a tad, and a sound of fabric and another hard material dropping on the floor. Her attention, now set on these items, makes her kneel again as she picks up the assortments, staring at them in curiosity.

The cloth items are unfolded and messy, heavily armed with pockets and such. The shirt is a sleeveless crop top, with a turtle neck as well. Its fabric is surprisingly dense but still has elasticity. The pants are somewhat baggy looking, and seem to be jeans, but are still stretchy enough to be comfortable. On the floor in front of Marlowe sits a small, black gun of sorts, multiple bullet cartridges, some blades, small explosives, and a small, handheld, mystery item.

This mystery item looked almost like a fingerless, flexible gauntlet, with the ability to shoot. Maybe it's a super weird looking gun? Or a grappling hook? Maybe a dart gun? Marlowe rubs her tired eyes harshly as to push the neverending guesses away.

On the floor, there are also a pair of torn-up combat boots near the weaponry. They appear fleece-lined on the inside, their black, pleather lining dingy and dusted with dirt.

Assuming she'll have to change into the new outfit at some point or another, she places the items in her hands back onto the ground and begins pulling her uncomfortably sweaty clothing off of her skin. They stick a bit, feeling grimey and gross. Marlowe grimaces, trying not to gag at the feeling. The crop top slides onto her chest, the pants on her legs somewhat baggy around her calves, hugging her legs at the ankles. Upon attaching her weaponry to her belt, she reaches down to put her boots on.

Something clatters in the distance, its echoes bouncing off of each wall and corridor. Marlowe stops, still sitting on the floor, her hands gripped around her boots. She stands up, cold sweat dripping from her freckled face. Her breaths shake as she quiets herself further. The pattering of clumsy footsteps thud against the floor, loud thunks slamming on the wall and other such surfaces. It gets closer, closer, closer. Louder, louder, louder. Then it just stops. Silence washes over the facility, a draft chilling Marlowe, the only thing she's able to detect and hear being her beating heart.

Her attention is drawn towards an opening to a hallway. She recognizes it from the video. There's disgusting green flesh stuck on the walls and dripping from the ceiling, splatting on the ground and splashing in green and black puddles. Another draft blows, wafting a horrid stench into Marlowe's nose, making her gag, bile threatening to spew out of her mouth. She swallows it back as she takes cautious steps towards the hallway entry, boots still in hand. A green glow emits from the hall, flickering then disappearing.

Marlowe's feet crunch against the debris, every step feeling like a wrong move. She finally makes it to the doorway, leaning out, carefully looking either way. To her right, she can see a long hallway cutting right again. Another draft blows her way from the right side of the hallway. That must be her way out.

She gulps, stepping into the hall slowly, a grunt from behind her rumbling. She halts, turning around, her wide eyes bloodshot and her sweaty frame shivering. There's nothing but darkness for miles. Then another grunt. Then another. Another. Another...

Glowing green circles turn sharply to look at her, a gasp escaping Marlowe's dry throat. The green orbs come closer, glowing brighter and brighter, soon revealing the body they're attached to. Marlowe stares, awestruck and horrified.

The being is completely malnourished and deformed, its arms and legs twisted and stretched in ungodly ways, sharp joints poking out of its skin. Green slime oozes from its orifices, black blood like oil dripping from open wounds and gashes, and from its eyes like dark tears. Its teeth are long and twisted, yellowed and cracked. Its dark skin is completely green, sprigs of white hairs curled and sprouting out of its head. It gurgles a guttural growl, hunger lacing its voice. Marlowe takes a step back, then another, then another. The beast does the same, coming closer, closer, closer.

Out of options, Marlowe chucks one of her boots at the beast with a scream. It shrieks upon impact, rubbing its wounds. Shaking away the pain, its gaze locks on Marlowe, roaring at the girl. It charges, faster than any creature she can think of. Her feet take her away as she ignores the sharp pains in her bare feet. She turns, her feet skidding on the floor as she turns down the corner and up a new hallway. The beast runs into walls, screaming incoherent words at her as they run.

In front of Marlowe stands a lone set of stairs to double doors, a cold draft blowing at her once more. That must've been the source of the breezes!

Sweat drips down Marlowe's face and back, chilling her as she runs. The footsteps behind her grow louder, the creature's breath skimming the back of her neck. Marlowe swings her second boot behind her, smacking the beast in the face, it halting in return. It fumbles a bit before tumbling over and lying on the cold floor, wailing in pain.

Marlowe runs full force up the set of stairs, tripping and faltering with every step, but successfully getting to the doors. Their hinges are loose and the push handles seem as if they're about to fall off, so Marlowe assumes the easy way out. She falls into the door, fumbling to push it open, but it won't budge. The beast stands up. Marlowe throws her body into the doors, slamming over and over, but it won't open. The creature shakes a bit, regaining its balance. Her breathing shakes, heavy and dry as she wastes her remaining energy on the doors. She pushes and pulls and slams but it's no use; they won't budge. The beast shambles towards the stairs, slow steps upwards to Marlowe.

Tears prick at Marlowe's eyes, becoming heavy and falling. She grunts, frustration and fear pulsating in her veins. Her eyes dart around the room as she pushes, the beast nearing her, quicker and quicker. It whines, its voice scratchy and dead. Marlowe takes a few steps back, weary of the beast and the stairs, preparing for the worst of her last resort. The beast's feet patter against the stairs as it fumbles quickly, running at Marlowe. She takes a deep breath, and sprints towards the doors. She throws her body at the doors one last time, the creature reaching and missing her.

The doors fly open, bright white sunlight reflecting off of pristine snow illuminating the hall. Marlowe lays in the cold blanket, unable to pick herself back up, accepting her fate. But the creature does not follow. It takes one step out into the snow, the frigid ice layer of earth scarring the beast. Shrieking, it stares at Marlowe's unmoving body and retreats back into the facility.

Marlowe rolls herself onto her back, puffs of steam escaping her lips into the cold air. The sun is bright. Very bright. How long was she in that facility to not remember that? And the snow seemed out of place. Why would there be this much snow in a city like New York? And... Ice-covered mountains? Marlowe squints, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare.

"Where the hell am I?"