Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John had been running for a long time now. It could’ve been days, months, or even years at this point. All they knew, was that they did something bad. And they, unfortunately, had to pay the price for it. Said price, was this.
And ‘this’ was Purgatory. A brick maze that spanned an infinite length, practically crawling with wretched creatures, rearranging and rebuilding itself every time John inevitably made a mistake—missed a hiding spot, failed to outrun the Goatman, sank into the tar, looked at Heed one too many times—and perished.

John was, at this point, rather desensitized to the whole ‘repeatedly dying’ thing. Sure, it hurt. A lot. He’d even describe it as agony, maybe. Some deaths were particularly nasty, painful, or prolonged. But at the end of the day, John had lost count of the number of times he’d died here. They all blurred into each other, except for a few outliers—particular embarrassing or frustrating ones, mostly.

They were quite used to dying, at this point. It always ended the same way. He’d lose consciousness, and feel the warning presence of Him. The reason why they were doing all this in the first place. Genesis, the Lord, the Creator, God.
John was doing this all for Them. He longed to enter Their kingdom someday. One day.
One day they would.
One day.
He would do this, time and time again, until they were finally pure enough. Once they were clean of their Sins. Once they had done enough.

John was almost definitely, certainly going to die again. It’s alright. They were used to this. It’s alright.—They’d still prefer not to, but it was alright.
Their muscles burned as they scrambled to find some kind of corner that could shelter them from Carnation. They knew they wouldn’t find one. They could hear it tearing through the maze, barreling towards them. The incoherent chattering overwhelmed their ears, getting louder as it approached.

They just had to run a little further.
They could still fix this, they knew they could.
This run was still salvageable.

They just had to run a little further.
They just had to run a little—

-

John awoke to the faint pinging sound of—some sort of vehicle?
Their head hurt, badly. Mostly their eyes, and ears. They became aware of their whole body aching, as they tried to shift into a more upright position, as they had been slumped over against the wall up until now. They seemed to be sitting on some sort of long, metal seat-bench-thing. Interesting.
Still not fully awake, John tried to recall what had happened. He was running, as always.. and he couldn’t get to a safe spot in time. He had.. died to Carnation..? Yes. Carnation. It was Carnation.
He had died.

Wait.

They jerked upright in panic, eyes snapping open, pain shooting through their body. This wasn’t God. When they died, they were to see God. They always, always, saw God after each and every single one of their many, many deaths. What was this?

No. No no no no no. This was bad. This was exactly as they had feared God had left them they were not Worthy they would never be Worthy perhaps they themselves are simply just Irredeemable for the Sin of doing what he did maybe this was hell Were they going to Hell? Yes this was Hell for sure they were certain of it.
John felt sick. Their heart rate increasing, they fidgeted with the cross around their neck, staring down at their hands. God please forgive me please I am so sorry I will not do it again Just give me one more chance and I will be Better. I will Better myself I will Prove myself to be Worthy I swear.

They looked down at the floor of.. whatever this could possibly be, trying to distract themselves from their thoughts—that was what they should do in a situation like this, right? Perhaps this was all just a mistake, a misunderstanding, or maybe—just maybe—this was Heaven somehow. Although, that seemed unlikely. Heaven wasn’t a small, uncomfortable, dark, metal.. submarine? Heaven wasn’t supposed to have thick walls lined with dim, red lighting. Everything that John had been taught throughout his life went against that. It was supposed to be paradise, wasn’t it? This.. certainly wasn’t paradise. This was a dimly lit submarine (John was fairly sure that that was what this was.) going God knows where, completely vacant of anyone but John Grace themselves.

It’s okay. It’s okay. He tried to reassure himself, shifting into a more comfortable position against some sort of strange panel on the wall—something he likely shouldn’t do, John but couldn’t find himself caring. Perhaps this was another test. Another part of them proving themselves to be worthy enough to enter God’s kingdom. That was better than the alternative option, for sure.

They must’ve hit one of the buttons on the control panel, as an unfamiliar voice rang through the submarine.
“Warning! You are not authorized to access this console. Continued interactions will deem you a liability. Please step back.” The voice was.. strangely robotic, in a way that John had never heard before. Sounded human enough, but something about it was just.. wrong.

Startled at the volume—and at the voice’s words, John lept out of their seat, attempting to put distance between themselves and the console. That was, when they knocked into something—or someone, who had apparently been not a long distance away from them this whole time.

“Hey!! What the hell?!” That someone exclaimed, clearly startled, shoving John off of them and to the metal floor. Ow.
Struggling to his feet, John tried to catch his breath. God, he hadn’t known there were other people in here. He had somehow not noticed, likely in his panic at the unfamiliar environment. And, well, the whole maybe being abandoned by God thing. Adrenaline beginning to take hold, he tried to think of something to say, but found that he couldn’t. How long was it since they had last spoken to another human being?

The stranger spoke again, facial features hidden by the many shadows of the submarine. “Wait—who the fuck are you?”

John searched for an answer, wide eyes darting around the enclosed space. Yes, now that he thought about it, it was obvious. There were two other people in here with him—although, they both looked wildly different from anything he’d ever seen. Then again, this whole situation was wildly different from anything that he’d ever gone through. One of them, the one he had bumped into, was in the process of standing up from the cold metal seat, presumably to get a better look at him. Or to fight him. It was hard to tell.
The other, sitting on the opposite side of the submarine, scooched up closer to them. Probably also to get a better look.

“Well?” The person now standing in front of him said, voice unreadable.
“Uh. Well.” John thought. What was a good way to respond? “I’m John. John Grace.” Maybe not that. Yeah, no. That was a horrible answer. They regretted those words almost immediately after they had left their mouth.
“Very helpful.” Came their response.
The other person, still seated, politely stated, “I didn’t know there were other people here.”
Unknown Standing Person tapped their foot, seemingly in irritation, and groaned. “There aren’t supposed to be other people here!!! It’s always just been me, and—“

A loud pinging sound cut them off, followed by the same voice from the control panel announcing, in that same unsettlingly artificial voice,

“You have arrived at your destination. Please exit the submarine.”

Chapter Text

Urbanshade. That was the name of the corporation that had promised him freedom, as long as he successfully retrieved some trinket they wanted, from their sketchy underwater facility. To be precise, they had promised him a clean criminal record, freedom, and a whole bunch of cash. Seemed easy enough. Seemed almost too easy, too good to be true, because of course it was.
The moment that he had accepted this offer, [EXR-P] knew that he had fucked up massively. There was nothing that he could do about it now, of course.
After all, he was trapped in a never ending loop, resetting every time he died. Or, more frustratingly, every time he would stumble onto the plane that promised him freedom at last, and inevitably fell asleep. Because of course he would. Who wouldn’t, after what Urbanshade put their Expendables through?

He would fall asleep, and wake up in that godawful submarine, unable to fully register his surroundings before they were on their feet, puppeted by some outside force. One that had wormed its way into his brain from the moment that he stepped foot in that submarine for the very first time.
From that moment on, there was always something beneath the surface, something horrible and not of this world that he could not get rid of, could not scrape out of himself, no matter how hard he tried.
They theorized that it was some sort of ghost, using their body as a vessel, possibly just for the thrill of being able to touch and feel and interact with the world once more. Seeing all of the weird Urbanshade shit they had seen, they did not think this was out of the question. Perhaps, if that was the case, they could not blame this ghost. However, was it really necessary to also somehow trap them in a neverending cycle? Surely, it could’ve gone without.

This was to be their 34th successful run, according to their count, which they had lost several times. At this point, it was more of an estimate. He did not care. He could not bring himself to care. Not in the slightest. It wasn’t even like he was the one doing the work. No, his body simply obeyed commands that were not his, and he was to mindlessly follow on tired, aching legs that somehow never faltered.

They advanced towards the submarine—or rather, the parasite controlling their each and every move did—feeling nothing but pure apathy at the whole thing. Frankly, they were sick of seeing it. Its stupid, sleek metal exterior, those awful dim red lights lining the walls. They glanced back at the blacksite, and desperately hoped that they would see this godforsaken place for the last time one day—desperately hoped that they would never see that horrid Urbanshade logo on anything, ever again. It practically disgusted them, after everything that they’ve been through.

The parasite got on, and pulled the lever. Wow, oh boy. Another successful run. Retrieving the crystal and all that. Great job. [EXR-P] was thrilled, truly. No. No they weren’t. God, what were they even doing anymore. This was so stupid.
After some time had passed, the parasite got off the submarine. The parasite spoke to the Urbanshade officials—at least, that is what they assumed they were—and the parasite boarded the plane once again.
[EXR-P] was exhausted. Their whole body ached from the mission, and they felt nothing but hollow dread as they sat down. They would have to do this again. And again. And again.
They wondered, if the cycle repeated every time they went to sleep on the plane. Perhaps they could break out by just.. not doing that? That seemed to be one of the few things the parasite did not have control over. They could do that, yes. Sleep once they got home. They wondered what Urbanshade had even arranged regarding their family. He had never moved out—it was far too expensive—so up until the moment they had [redacted], they had simply lived with their parents. Their parents were not very fond of that. They wondered if any of their things still remained at their house, or if their parents had tried to discard anything that could potentially suggest that [EXR-P] had existed at all. They wondered, if their parents would welcome them with open arms? Unlikely, but a nice thought.
They wondered, if anyone ever, for whatever reason, judged them for sleeping on the plane.

-

[EXR-P] awoke to that godawful faint pinging sound of the fucking Urbanshade submarine. Because of course they fucking did. They were used to this by now. Obviously. And yet, it still drove them mad. In fact, every loop practically made it worse. Oh, how they loathed this submarine.

However, this time something was different. [EXR-P] didn’t realize immediately, nor did they immediately stand up and begin pacing against their own will. No, they remained seated, and found that that was what they wanted. They simply wanted to sit down for once, and that was what they were doing. They were sitting down and there was nothing stopping them from doing so.

The parasite was dead. The ghost piloting them had gotten bored, and cast them aside, possibly for some other poor soul.

And yet, he was still on the submarine.

Except now, he had to do it all by himself.

Perhaps that was for the better.

Perhaps, it was better, that there was something actually different about this, beyond the layout of the Hadal Blacksite somehow shifting after every death, twisting into some new unfamiliar layout. He was free. He could do whatever he wanted now.

Hell, he could end it all this instant, using that handy little control panel Urbanshade submarines had with that navigational ai. That could be a way to break the cycle. He could take his chance now, while he still had control over himself. But was it really worth it? Was it really worth it to get shot to death by an Urbanshade submarine?
No. No it wasn’t. The fact that he had thought, even for a moment, that that would be a good way out, was quite frankly humiliating. Even if it did work—which it almost certainly wouldn’t do—they refused to die for real in an Urbanshade submarine. Or, frankly, on any Urbanshade property.

He ran a finger over the hem of his jumpsuit’s sleeve, noting the odd texture that many waterproof clothing had. [EXR-P] let out a soft sigh, looking down at the floor, squinting in the dim, red lighting. Although he would never admit this to anyone, he was honestly frightened at the lack of the parasite. He, honestly, did not have much of a clue of what to do in the Blacksite. The parasite, was the one with all the talent, and all the experience. They simply watched, and, failed to pay attention fully after the fifth successful run. It all began to just blend together.
Perhaps, if the parasite returned, [EXR-P] would simply just try to come to terms with it. Resign to their fate as a puppet used to play some twisted game time and time and time and time again, for the rest of eternity. Or however long this lasted.

That was, when they heard NAVI. AI’s familiar voice ring out, repeating a line they have heard many a time. “Warning! You are not authorized to access this console. Continued interactions will deem you a liability. Please step back.” Frankly, it startled them. They were not sitting close enough to the control panel to do anything, they were certain of it. After all, they knew the submarine’s layout by heart.
Worst of all, the announcement was immediately followed by something—or someone, leaping out of their seat and collapsing into [EXR-P]’s arms.

There were not supposed to be any other people on the submarine. There never were. It was always just [EXR-P], and, of course, the parasite. That was it. Whoever this stranger was, they did not seem like a threat—unless a new one had somehow popped up. That happened occasionally, but they learned their way around them after a while. No, there would not be any threats on the submarine. That just… would not make sense.

Either way, this someone had to go. [EXR-P] decided this in almost the same moment that they roughly shoved the stranger off of them and to the floor, exclaiming in a mix of irritation and fear—which they hoped was not noticeable, “Hey!! What the hell?!”
As the stranger caught their breath and rose back to their feet, [EXR-P] tried to get a better look at them. Standing up to face them, he squinted through the faint red light, and found that he could not make out a single feature of.. any part of them, actually. It was as if they just absorbed any light, like some sort of black hole that had somehow taken a vaguely humanoid form.

How odd. Worrying, honestly. “Wait—who the fuck are you?” He blurted out, voice now more fearful than anything.
The ominous black hole humanoid did not say anything. Did not respond or even make a single sound at [EXR-P]’s exclamation. No, they simply looked around the submarine in silence—looking quite frightened, honestly—before locking eyes with [EXR-P]. Now, that was another odd thing about this stranger. Their eyes were just… white. Wide, crudely ‘drawn’ white eyes with black dots for pupils. Looked exactly like some sort of strange cartoon, now that they thought about it.
Hell, this stranger didn’t even look like something from this world, more so resembling some kind of messily drawn character pitifully edited into real world footage. Stuck out like a sore thumb, really.

[EXR-P] growled in annoyance. They did not have the patience for this. “Well?” They said flatly.
Finally, the stranger spoke. “Uh. Well.” They fell silent for a few moments, before continuing. “I’m John. John Grace.” Just like the rest of them, John Grace’s voice was strange. With how hoarse it was, [EXR-P] would’ve thought they hadn’t spoken in years. Centuries, even. That wasn’t even getting him started on the accent, which somehow he could immediately determine to be.. from no human language, actually. Somehow.
Either way, [EXR-P] still did not have the patience for this. “Very helpful.” He snapped, glaring at ‘John Grace’. What a stupid, stupid name.

Suddenly, he heard another person speak up from the other side of the submarine. “I didn’t know there were other people here.”
Great!!! Another one!!!! He had not noticed that there was yet another person in the fucking submarine. He had been far too occupied with John.
Frustration began to build up in them. God. They were sick of this already. They had just broken free from being some kind of godforsaken puppet for something seemingly beyond their comprehension, and now they had to deal with two strangers.
Sure, he did not like doing the same exact awful awful thing over and over and over again for some reason he’d likely never understand, in near complete solitude, but he also did not like people.
Truth be told, they scared him. He did not like speaking to others.

He tapped his foot impatiently, trying to stop himself from grabbing the nearest person and bashing their head into the wall of the submarine repeatedly until they stopped moving. “There aren’t supposed to be other people here!!!” He said with as much restraint as he could possibly muster. “It’s always just been me, and—“

Ping.

“You have arrived at your destination. Please exit the submarine.”

“Thank you, no really, thank you NAVI. AI for interrupting me.” He hissed through his teeth, at the very same moment that the navigational system announced their arrival at the Hadal Blacksite dock.

Feeling positively sick to their stomach, [EXR-P] made their way towards the hatch. It was time to do this again. For the.. god. How many times has it been. For the however-many-times-its-been’th time. Yes. That would work. Certainly.

Chapter Text

Hotel, as a word, is defined as ‘an establishment providing accommodations, meals, and other services for travelers and tourists.’ Now, typically, a stay at a hotel is, of course, temporary. Always shifting, not many staying for very long. People come, stay a while, and then go.
In Guest’s case, it has been a very long while. She wasn’t sure how long, but she estimated it had been at least five months since she had made the mistake of choosing to explore that abandoned hotel. But really, who could blame her? She had never seen anyone enter or leave the building. And yet, the outside was holding up pretty well.
It had a hobby of sorts—urban exploration. So on one particularly boring Saturday, it made the choice to pack its bags and drive over to the mysterious abandoned hotel just a few miles from its house, and walk around inside a bit.

That turned out to be the worst mistake it had ever made in its life, it reckoned.

Yes, now that she thought about it, with every step she took, she felt horrid regret. Regret had replaced the blood in her veins, coursing through her body. It ate away at her insides, until it was all that was left.
She wanted to go home. To her family, whose faces she could not remember all too well. Slowly but surely, their facial features became blurs in her mind, and there was just something so, so off about the way their voices sounded in her recollections.
She hated it. She was sick and tired of walking through the same rooms, over and over and over and over again. It was all there was to do in the hotel, if it did not want to spend its seemingly endless time merely staring at a wall, or perhaps the ceiling, just waiting to be set free somehow. No, no no no. It did not work like that. It simply did not. Perhaps this was just the way it convinced itself to haul itself back on its feet, each and every single time. It did not make sense to her. She could not escape the hotel if she could not find a door to the outside. And if she had to do this another two hundred and fifty seven times, she would do this another two hundred and fifty seven times. Truthfully, she was not sure if it was actually two hundred and fifty seven times. Truthfully, she had lost count a long, long time ago. She had merely come up with that number for hyperbole. Or, maybe—though she prayed so desperately, that this was not the case—it was an understatement. No, it couldn’t be. She simply refused to believe that that could be the case.
It was not out of the question, and yet it clung onto the idea that it hadn’t been in this hotel for that long.

Now, listen. It too had thought that it had far surpassed the skill that it possessed when it first stepped foot in the building, having died and just barely reached freedom time and time and time and time again. It was convinced that surely, just surely it could not be having as awful a time as it did back when it first came here. And yet, despite not even being past Seek yet, she was already covered in wounds—some more severe than others. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises littered her body, shirt torn and bloodstained from a particularly nasty bite left by a Screech.
God, her legs hurt. Practically always did, honestly. She didn’t know why she was even complaining at this point. It certainly wasn’t much of a surprise, if she spent the past.. amount of time roaming the halls for hours and hours on end. However, it was still quite the annoyance.

It sighed as it opened yet another door, absentmindedly searching through the drawers of a nearby wooden cabinet. Nothing particularly useful, save for five or four dusty knobs. Perhaps those could come in handy later, if it somehow managed to crawl its way over to Jeff’s shop, maybe it could purchase something useful, like a crucifix or something. Crucifixes were always quite helpful.

Another door. Another cabinet. Another door. Another cabinet. The lights flickered briefly, and she glanced up for just a brief moment, before scanning the room for a closet. There was one to her left, how convenient.
She made her way towards the closet, opening its mahogany doors and looking out into the hallway, waiting for the ever-so-familiar droning of Rush in the distance to get closer.
The hair on its arms stood up as the temperature dropped, the air somehow feeling almost like static. At least, that was the easiest way for it to describe the sensation—it felt almost unnatural, really, as though it was not from here, not from Earth, but rather some parallel universe—one that it had somehow managed to slip into unknowingly, and could now never free itself from its grasps.
Most things in the hotel felt like that.

Either way, that did not matter. What mattered was surviving this. And, unfortunately, in just under five short seconds, she had found that her chances of survival were quite slim. Frantically jumping into the closet as she heard the creature approach, she tried to shut the doors behind her. However, this closet appeared to be faulty. Yes, that was certainly what was going on here. It refused to stay shut. That was bad. Very bad.
Were there other closets in the next room ahead? She didn’t know. Where were other closets in the previous room? She didn’t remember. Maybe, just maybe she had enough time to go back and check, she reasoned as she flung the closet open and began to scramble across the room, and shoved her way through the next door.

The droning was getting louder. Much, much louder.

The last thing it remembered before dying, was realizing its dire mistake. Should’ve just stuck with the broken closet. Should’ve just taken that chance.

-

It awoke to the faint pinging of.. something.
The first thing it noticed, was the awful, pounding headache just behind its eyes. The second, was that this was not the Guiding Light. In fact, it could not be further from it. She struggled to open her eyes, squinting in an attempt to adjust to the light—that, while dim, seemed practically blinding to her—and noticed that all the lighting was red. How.. comically evil.
Now, this appeared to be some sort of submarine. Even in her disorientated, half-awake state, she could tell that much.
Attempting to look down as well as she possibly could, without moving—for fear that, that too, would cause her great pain, as moving immediately after coming back frequently did—she noted that she was sitting on some sort of metallic bench.

She honestly didn’t know how to feel. Panic, was her immediate reaction. Relief, joy even, was her second—although she was not sure how reasonable this was. Being in yet another mysterious place completely void of any human beings—or anything to speak to, anyway—was not exactly something that should strike joy into a person.
But she couldn’t help herself. She felt relieved that she was out of the hotel, at last. Truth be told, she could not care much about the potential danger of it all. Perhaps, she would die and not wake up unscathed back where she started, but then she would. Well. Join her family, she supposed. And whatever God there may be. The Guiding Light, maybe? Over her runs, she had found that she had begun to practically worship the Guiding Light as a god, a deity of sorts.
Perhaps, that was all due to it actually being god, and she was simply subconsciously aware of this. Or perhaps this was all just nonsense. However, she doubted that.

It closed its eyes again, revering in the relaxing darkness that it was immediately met with. It did not want to look at those awful red lamps—the ones that lined the submarine and just seemed so deeply unsettling, somehow. It was silly, it knew that. But still. Plus, its head hurt. It could not blame itself for wanting some rest with a splitting headache.

Her eyes snapped open again as a startlingly loud, artificial voice rang through the submarine. “Warning! You are not authorized to access this console. Continued interactions will deem you a liability. Please step back.”
Her hands—which had been resting in her lap since she had first found herself here—jerked up, muscles tensing out of panic.

What does that mean. WHAT DOES THAT MEA—

Another voice, tinged in irritation and—possibly—fear, exclaimed, “Hey! What the hell?!” Followed by a thump of another body shoved to the cold, hard metal floor.

It glanced over, heart going so fast a part of it was concerned it would simply stop, to see what was practically but a silhouette struggle to their feet—presumably the one who had been pushed to the ground. She didn’t know there were other people here. Other people. Other real, living, breathing people. “Wait—who the fuck are you?!” The other person, also standing up, with a tinge of fright to their voice, exclaimed.

A few moments passed, which she spent observing the two strangers in dead silence. Trying to make out their features.
For one, it was near impossible, save for two wide, glowing white eyes, that almost looked scribbled on. Like a crude depiction of a human being, drawn by a very, very young child. She found herself moving closer to them, squinting through the dark to try to make something, literally anything out from their figure. Failing miserably, of course.
The other, was dressed in a jumpsuit, and.. what appeared to be diving gear..? How.. odd. “Well?” The oddly dressed individual inquired dully, arms crossed in what appeared to be annoyance.

A good long moment passed before the strange silhouette of a person spoke. “Uh. Well.” God, they sounded like they hadn’t spoken in literal decades. “I’m John. John Grace.”
So that was their name. How interesting. She, personally, could not remember her name. It had escaped her a long, long time ago.

“Very helpful.” The individual with the diving gear growled.
She did not like this person much. Seemed very, very angry so far. Although, perhaps they too were transported here unknowingly. If that was the case, she really could not blame them.

Perhaps, just maybe it could.. join the conversation? Now, it could not get confrontational. It may not ask the person in diving gear to be more respectful. So, it simply stated what it had been thinking this whole time. “I didn’t know there were other people here.” Yes, perhaps that would do.

Or maybe not. The diving gear person turned towards her, practically radiating irritation. “There aren’t supposed to be other people here!!! It’s always just been me, and—“ They got cut short by the same odd, artificial voice from earlier. The one that had said.. something about being ‘deemed a liability’. Whatever that meant, it did not sound good.

“You have arrived at your destination. Please exit the submarine.”

Chapter Text

As the three disembarked from the submarine, John took a moment to examine their surroundings. It seemed to be some sort of docking area, stacked with boxes presumably containing supplies, likely shipped there—or about to be shipped elsewhere. To their left, there were two large, metal lockers—definitely made to hold clothing and the like. Directly in front of them, were three smaller lockers, presumably to contain things that weren’t clothing, which stood close to a simple desk, which stood close to a metal door.
Actually, the vast majority of things in their vicinity were metal. It faintly reminded them of the safe rooms, although that was likely due to the fact that the safe rooms were almost entirely the only thing they saw that wasn’t just brick wall, in a very, very long time.
There was a part of them that desperately wanted to go back, their insides twisting with anxiety and the deep-rooted, desperate feeling that this whole situation was deeply, terribly wrong. Another part of them was almost excited, giddy at the prospect of seeing something new. John felt simultaneously trapped, and freer than he’d been in his whole (after)life.

Remember, this was another test. He was still bound to his responsibility to repent and free himself from Sin, as any human being was. He was not free, until he was clean of each and every one of the wrongdoings that tainted his flesh, his very existence.
Absent-mindedly, he picked at a certain spot on his forearm—one that would’ve certainly been quite scarred if not for the fact that he would always die and be brought back before it had the chance to even become a wound in the first place.

Another loud ping behind him signified the submarine retrieving back into the murky depths, spraying John with saltwater in the process. They flinched, and suddenly became aware of yet another voice speaking to them over the intercom.
“Good luck.” It told them.

The person who had shoved John over simply nodded in a way that was almost certainly sarcastic, and muttered something under their breath. Now that the lighting was better—cold, blue, artificial light from overhead—he could actually make out what they looked like better. They were shorter than John, and appeared quite scrawny. Wearing a simple dark, grey-ish blue jumpsuit. On their back, they had some sort of contraption, resembling diving gear with something that John could not identify strapped onto it, as well as a metal container for something, which certainly did not look comfortable to wear, nor did it look all that optimized for activities such as sitting, laying, crouching, walking, or much of anything really.
What stood out the most to John, was the person’s face. They had a mouth, a nose, medium-long hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed—or washed—in months, many features that you would typically expect to see on someone’s face. However, their eyes appeared to be redacted. As though they were censored by some outside force, as though this person’s appearance was classified. How does one even manage to get your face quite literally redacted with an actual, literal censor bar?
How odd.

The other person, the one but a meter or so away from John himself, did not say or do anything. Turning to stare at it, John noted that their hair was even more matted. Dark brown, and cut short with all the precision of an inexperienced individual with a dull knife or perhaps a pair of shears. The white button up shirt it wore was torn in several places, and filthy—covered in blood and dirt and dust. Its shorts and gloves were not doing particularly well either.
On its face—which was actually normal and not censored, was an expression that John could not read very well. Perhaps it was one of discomfort.
This was almost certainly the case, as it politely said, “Hey man, can you.. stop staring at me? No offense—it’s just kind of odd.”

John had indeed been staring. He knew that. And yet, he looked it directly in the eyes, and simply stated, “I wasn’t staring.” A lie that could have very easily been disproven, seeing as they had been simply pacing around in small, short circles, and looking directly at the person for almost a minute now. At least, they thought it had been a minute. Either way, it didn’t matter. What did matter in this moment, was getting this person to see that John was correct. And never did anything wrong. It would’ve been wrong to be mad at them, and she needed to see that.

It was surprisingly easy, as she simply nodded—perhaps with some hesitation, and blurted out, “Oh. Alright then.” Still, she did not sound fully convinced, glancing up at them with what was very, very thinly veiled annoyance.

The individual in the diving gear looked over at them, mouth twisted into an expression of sheer impatience and irritation. “Are we moving, or what.”

“Well, it seems that we are going to be.. stuck together for a while.” The person in front John cautiously suggested. “Perhaps, it would do us good to know each other’s names?”

Hm. Not a bad idea, in full honesty. Diving gear person seemed to think otherwise. “You do not need my name.” They said, voice tense. “In fact—you can’t know my name. Stupid legal issues and all that. Classified.”
Their name was classified, too? What could they have possibly even done to make this necessary?
“Oh… well, we already know John’s name. Right? It isn’t particularly fair that he’s the only one who had to give out his name, right? I think.” She said uncertainly. “Plus, it’s just convenient this way, I think. You have to have some sorta… I don’t know, nickname we can call you?”

Diving gear person sighed in annoyance, tapping their foot on the floor. “Fine.” They snapped. “I don’t care. Expendable works fine. That’s what they call me, anyway.” (And who exactly was this mysterious they, exactly?)
“Alright! Expendable. That’s.. a bit grim.” It said, faint smile on its face, fidgeting with the rim of its hat—which was also filthy. “I’m..” The smile faded, and it fell into silence. One second went by. Five seconds went by. Ten, then twenty.
Expendable sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What? Change your mind?”
“No, no.” It said quickly, slight waver in its voice. “It’s just.. you see, I do.. not fully remember my name all too well. It’s a long story—one I don’t think you’ll believe. It’s kind of outlandish, sorta.”

“What’s the story?” John found himself asking, in a tone that truly carried across the intrigue he felt at this stranger’s story—which was none. He did not care, if he was being honest. “I’ll believe anything at this point.” He added, in the form of a mutter under his breath.

“Uhm. Well. I— got lost. In a hotel. It was abandoned, I think. I don’t know—I like urban exploring, and that sorta stuff, you know? I thought it would be good to check it out, and I got stuck. And I don’t know just how long I’ve spent in there, but now I’m out!!! Finally.” She said, not acknowledging just how little John cared.

“Well, that’s quite a nice story.” Expendable said, voice doused in sarcasm. “Sounds fake though. That—was a joke. Little lighthearted fun with my friends, am I right? No, no. I quite understand that, actually. Quite shocking, isn’t it?”

The other person looked utterly baffled. Honestly, John did not blame it. Genuinely, what was this guy talking about? “Yeah.” It said, in a tone which very clearly said I-completely-understand-what-you-just-said. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. It’s a hotel, right? The.. hotel I was stuck in. So I guess you could call me Guest, maybe? Nothing else is really coming to mind. It’s basic, I know, but it works.”

Guest.
Yeah, that name was quite basic. Although, John couldn’t really talk here. Their name was literally John.

“Alright, Guest.” Expendable said, hands clasped together in a motion that was certainly not intended to be prayer. No, it was far more likely an act of poorly contained anger. Maybe, just maybe, it could even be described as Wrath. “I suppose we can start moving now, that we all know each other’s names and are the bestest of friends. Right? I’m getting quite restless here, and I’d rather start my routine than just stand here kicking non-existent rocks like a bunch of dumbasses. We’re not dumbasses! I know I’m not! Are you? No? Let’s get moving then.”

Expendable seemed to adore making up things to get mad over. And that, in turn, made John quite angry. Expendable was genuinely insufferable. More so than any of the creatures that John had to deal with, even Dozer. And John despised Dozer, out of the fact that it seemed to believe that it was better than him. Perhaps, that was the point of its existence.

Now, as much as John desperately wanted to seem like he knew that he was doing, he didn’t. And he had completely missed what he was being told over the intercom. So, he had to swallow his ego—as he had done many times before, and turn towards Expendable to ask. “You seem like you know what this place is.” They stated. It was their turn to try and hide their irritation, for, unlike Expendable, they were actually a good person. No they weren’t. But it sure did feel nice to think that. “What.. exactly are we supposed to do here?”

Expendable sighed, clenching their fist. “Did you.. Not pay attention to HQ?”

“No.” Perhaps, if he wanted to put up more of a polite act like Guest seemed to be doing, he could’ve added an ‘apologies’, or ‘forgive me’. But no, those were reserved for the Lord at the moment. He would not ask for the forgiveness of one who had not even shown a smidge of respect towards him in the first place. That’d simply be silly, wouldn’t it? This was almost certainly some kind of sin, but he didn’t care. One more couldn’t hurt at this point, could it? “I did not. Could you perhaps—“

He got interrupted. “Okay. Okay. I get it.” Expendable insisted. “Fine. What you do here is you listen to my instructions and don’t get yourself killed. Try and find a light source. Listen to my instructions. Don’t piss off the shopkeeper—or any AI you may come across. Believe me, it doesn’t end well. Just let me do any talking we may have to do. Don’t die. Did I mention listen to my instructions?”

Yes, yes, they did. And quite frankly, John was sick and tired of it already. He did not have much faith in the morals of the Expendable individual, who also did not seem to be all too fond of him, nor Guest. He could easily lure them into a trap to get them killed and gotten rid of as soon as possible. Although, what else was there to do? Perhaps—although John doubted this—he was actually trustworthy. Perhaps, he would actually provide them with meaningful instructions.

He simply nodded. “Mhm.” Nothing more, nothing less. Just a simple acknowledgement. “Got it.”
“And you? Guest?” Expendable turned towards it, tilting their head.
“Oh!!! Yeah, yeah, I think I’m good. I get it.” Guest said. “I.. heard the intercom, actually. I think John here just wanted clarification, but I’m good.”

It was true, he did want clarification. However, he did not want others pointing this out. To them, he had to know everything. Who knew what they would do at the smallest indicator of weakness. Especially Expendable. John did not trust that man one bit. He said nothing, neither confirming nor denying Guest’s—accurate—assumption.

“Let’s go.” John said, breaking his silence, looking at the other two, eyes landing on Expendable, who (presumably) looked back at him. He felt the Expendable’s gaze fixate on his, burning into his very core with a judgment and disgust that one did not need eyes to get across. He narrowed his own eyes slightly, unblinking as he stared back at them. It felt like ages before Expendable pulled away and scoffed.
“Alright then. Let’s go.” They said, sounding rather displeased. “Remember—you listen to me.” Expendable moved towards the door, pulling a small, blue card out of his pocket and roughly shoving it into the scanner. Once they all heard the beep, and the door sliding open, he stuck the card back in his pocket with the same amount of love that one would have towards a piece of gum stuck to the sole of their shoe.

He made his way through, and the others followed, both taking notice of their surroundings.

Like the docking area, almost everything was made of metal. The desks, the lockers, the closets—maybe even the strange shiny black contraption he spotted lying on one of the (metal) desks.
It fascinated John. It had a keyboard, and a screen attached to said keyboard, like some sort of weird, high-tech book. It somewhat resembled a computer, although it seemed far too thin to be one. Far too sleek, for sure.
No, this was likely some oddity from Expendable’s reality that did not come from John’s. After all, Expendable was the only one here who appeared familiar with literally anything around them. Was also the only one who actually fit into their surroundings, with their diving gear and dull, blue jumpsuit that matched their dull, blue environment.

As though she had read their mind, Guest spoke up. “So, Expendable, you know this place, right?” She asked, hovering a little while away from them as they walked through room after room, as though afraid that he would lash out, or bite. Honestly, like with several other things throughout their brief interactions, John did not blame her. They did not like her all that much, but they liked her significantly more than they did Expendable. Although, that was quite a low bar.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Expendable responded after a moment, in their ever-so-irritated manner of speaking. “I know this place far better than one ever could want to, I fear.” They infuriated John so deeply. Every word, every inflection, every little movement that that man took, wormed its way into John’s head and filled them with nothing but pure, irrational disgust. There was just something about them, about the way they carried themselves. The way they seemed to relish in every brash word they said (although, John would refuse to admit to anyone but himself and the Lord, that he did the same. Quite frequently.), and the maddening way they refused to explain what was going on.

“Oh. Okay.” Guest said. “That’s—that sucks. I think.” She added, slowly, cautiously. It was as though she was scared of saying anything particularly interesting, or perhaps something that did not sound as though she wasn’t certain of a single thing that came out of her mouth. That too, irritated John. Frankly, this whole situation had made them quite irritable. The brief euphoria of being someplace new had already wore off, and John found themselves desperately craving to go back to their endless, brick wall purgatory. At least there, after their inevitable death, they could feel God’s embrace. Something that reassured them, something that made them certain that they had not been abandoned. That there was still hope. They were not, in fact, doomed to eternal damnation. Now, they were not so confident.

Expendable knew this place. Who could have caused this, if not for them? They were putting on some sort of sick act, John just knew it. Perhaps, this was all nonsense. It almost certainly was, with John’s history. However, in that moment, it all felt so real. Expendable was lying to them. Lying through their teeth, with no eyes to give it away. Their movements almost twitchy and uncertain, too fast or too slow at times, their body language almost unreadable. Of course, John was quite rusty when it came to body language, having barely spoken to anyone in what felt like years.

“Care to elaborate?” John said, eyes fixated on Expendable as they stopped to ruffle through a drawer, slipping any loose documents or mysterious vials of some unknown (probably lethal) liquid they found into their pockets. A thief too, how wonderful.
Expendable shifted uncomfortably, turning towards John. “Why do you need to know that?” They spat.
John narrowed his eyes. “You were the one to refer to our group as friends, and yet seem surprised when others treat you as such?” Yes, this was certainly how friends treated each other. “How hypocritical of you.” His tone was rather polite, hands clasped together in what was a silent, unsent (and unanswered) prayer for the patience to not seriously hurt the insufferable man who stood before him.

They sighed, shaking their head as they continued their search for practically anything they could find in the drawers placed around the room. “Very well, John Grace.” They said. “If you must know, I am in a situation that, to my knowledge, appears most similar to Guest’s.”

“Mm.” John gave their response. “Intruiging. Did you get stuck here with the diving gear, or is that just a side effect?” That wasn’t even them being rude, just being genuinely curious.
Expendable shoved the last drawer shut, gesturing for the others to follow them as they opened yet another door. “It’s so I can breathe. The Blacksite’s partially flooded, you know.”
“I know.” He said, for no reason in particular. He did, in fact, not know.
Guest looked up at them, a glimmer of hope in its eyes that was unfortunately about to be extinguished near instantly. It was as though it actually believed their words there for a second. Funny.
“Oh, do you now?” Expendable barked a laugh. “Not surprised there, honestly. You bare resemblance to some kinda fucked up experiment that escaped during the containment breach.” They blurted out, before shutting their mouth, almost as if they regretted what they had said just moments earlier. Expression shifting to one not as cruel, just for a split second. “Friendly banter. This is what friends do, right?” Expendable said, just a fraction too loud. They patted John on the shoulder in what was likely meant to be a passive aggressive gesture, causing him to yelp as panic momentarily seared through him. Guest looked at him in what appeared to be concern.
Instinctively, he fidgeted with the cross around his neck, looking at Expendable with an expression that was likely not a fraction unreadable as he would’ve hoped. He hadn’t felt physical contact that hadn’t brutally killed him in so, so long. It was humiliating, really, how they had fully prepared themselves to get their legs torn clean off just moments ago. But no, it was just Expendable.

Expendable muttered something under their breath, stopping to look through yet another drawer.
“I will go ahead.” John decided out loud. He had spent far too long going at a pace that felt far too slow. It was maddening, how both Expendable and Guest would stop to look at so, so many things.
No response. That seemed like a confirmation that no one cared. They broke into a jog, managed to open one singular door, and almost immediately heard a shout from Expendable as the lights flickered for a split second.

“EY!!” They yelled, frantically gesturing towards John from the other room. “GET OVER HERE. NOW”

John stopped in their tracks, standing and looking back at Expendable and Guest as they heard something coming towards them at what seemed to be quite a rapid pace. Oh. Every muscle begged them to start running, to get to the next safe spot to sit and wait for Carnation to pass. But, no. This place likely worked differently than purgatory.
This assumption seemed correct enough, as Expendable sprinted towards them with desperation only someone who was not about to watch someone die could. He grabbed them by the wrist, using his other arm to fling open the door of a nearby locker, before aggressively shoving John into it and slamming the door shut.

“I’m not going to let you KILL YOURSELF at DOOR EIGHTY-NINE.” He snapped, before presumably running back into the previous room.
Rubbing his wrist, John scowled down at his hands as he stood, uncomfortably cramped inside the locker. Really, how dare they shove them around? How dare the Expendable treat him as though they could just do whatever with no punishment? It was infuriating.

No, they refused to address how illogical this thought process was, even as they heard some sort of horrific screech echo through the halls, the sickening shatter of the overhead lightbulbs just barely audible over the noise. No, they refused to acknowledge how Expendable had very, very much saved their life there.

Chapter Text

John was unsure of how long he had spent standing in that locker before the door was roughly slammed open by no one other than Expendable. For once, they seemed to not have anything infuriating to say, and merely gestured at him to join them out in the open. Begrudgingly, John stepped out, shooting Expendable a glare as he did so.
After a moment, Expendable finally spoke. “So, everyone. Let’s have a lesson here.”
Oh, great. Now he was going to get things explained to him by the most aggravating, rage-inducing rat of a man. How lovely. “What just went by is called an Angler. They do that often. Easy to take care of, if you’re vigilant and listen to what I say. The others, however…” They inhaled through their teeth. “That’s where it gets tricky. For you. I know how to take care of them.”

Guest, who had apparently been standing not a far distance away from John, spoke up, nodding. “I think I’ve got it. Uh, the hotel I was in— had something similar. Rush. Had to get into closets to avoid it and stuff. There were also other ones. Ambush.” She spoke quickly, as if fearing that Expendable would take this as some kind of disrespect and interrupt her.
Which, honestly, was reasonable, as immediately as soon as the final word had left her mouth, Expendable continued, louder and more brash than before, “The others. Listen closely, or you will die. Okay! Froger. It goes down the hall twice. Once you think it’s gone, don’t leave the locker until I, personally, tell you to. Pinkie doesn’t flicker the lights. Keep your ears open at all times. If you hear high pitched shrieking, just—I don’t know— shout out ‘Pinkie’ or something. Do not expect me to always save your life,” They turned their head towards John for a moment, before continuing. “You’ll carry your weight here. I’m not a babysitter.”

All of these creatures had such stupid names. Did this man really expect them to be fearful of something by the name of ’Pinkie’? John tried to stop himself from laughing, instead taking to pacing the floor—something he felt the need to do quite a lot ever since he had ended up here. Expendable and Guest just moved so slowly. It was maddening.

“Chainsmoker’s annoying. Emits this like, green smoke that somehow makes you claustrophobic. It’s annoying, and it sucks. To avoid this, just get into lockers when you can actually… eigh… what’s the word here..” Expendable hesitated, as if they themselves weren’t fully sure. “Feel the ground shake. When that happens, don’t just stand there like an idiot. Get in your damn locker.”

John and Guest both nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get what you mean,” the latter stated.
Expendable frowned, looking at Guest. “I wasn’t done.”

John desperately wished they were. Nothing in this moment could make him happier than Expendable finally shutting their mouth. Or, well, maybe going back to purgatory. It was funny, really. They hated that place with all their being and yet they would gladly take it over spending a minute longer in this place. God, how they wished they could go back. Although they were ashamed to admit it, they could feel themselves once again falling into sin, and it terrified them. They had to stop. They had to go back. Maybe this is why they were not there anymore—God had realized that it was pointless to do anything regarding the shameful, disgusting individual John was.
A more logical part of John knew this was not the case. God would not do that, for God loved unconditionally and had faith in them. That was why they were there, in the first place. If God was not so loving, so kind, so gracious towards them, they would have been cast down to Hell the moment they had taken their last breath, and their heart had stopped beating.
But no, that was not what happened. In fact, they could barely remember it at this point. Death felt like one of those things you were not supposed to forget, and yet, all they remembered was falling, and hitting the cold brick floor with nothing but a flashlight and a crumpled, crudely drawn note in their pocket. They had long forgotten what the note had said. They had received many crumpled, crudely drawn notes.

“Well, if you know everything, and you once again seem to be not listening, it seems like I can just leave my explanation at that!” Expendable said loudly, snapping John out of his thoughts. Try to be civil here. He reminded himself. Do not fall into the sin of Wrath. Do not succumb to Ire.

He glanced over at Expendable with a blank expression, trying not to give away the fact that he was just itching to physically hurt them in some way. “Apologies.” He stated dully. “I was thinking. Continue.” He turned to look at Guest, who appeared visibly annoyed at this point. Guest was quite a curious individual, and John was honestly rather intrigued with how it acted. Each word, each sentence polite, unsure of itself, and mild-mannered. And yet, it too looked exasperated with Expendable’s behavior. Perhaps, it had more self-restraint than John. While it was true he wanted to learn more about it, it was also true that John.. just didn’t really care to speak to either of these people. They just wanted to go back at this point.

“Fine. I’ll just get the last two out of the way and then we can go. I’m getting just so sick of just standing here. Aren’t you all?” Expendable continued, clearing his throat. “Blitz. It’s fast. If you see the lights flicker twice, get in a locker as soon as possible and you should be fine. The last one’s where you really need to worry, and the one where you definitely can’t expect me to come and save you! Pandemonium.”

“What does Pandemonium do?” Guest asked, fidgeting with the strap of her backpack, and looking down at the floor rather than either of the two people there.
“I was getting there.” Expendable said, tugging at the hem of their jumpsuit’s sleeve.

“I am trying to participate in conversation, Expendable.” Guest said, smiling politely down at Expendable in a way that did not reach her eyes.

“It has great vision. It’ll see you, even with the locker. And it’ll try to break the door open. Find a side room to hide in, and pray it is large enough that you can find a corner where it won’t spot you. That’s what I do—and I’m atheist. That’s how bad it is. So, like I’ve said several times, pay attention to my instructions, unless you want to die a horrible gruesome death. Alright? Alright.”

Begrudgingly, he nodded. Guest did the same.

“Cool. Great. Awesome. Great. That’s over with, let’s get going.” Expendable said, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and briskly walking towards the door, posture slouched as it likely had been this whole time—presumably from the weight of his odd diving gear contraption. Genuinely, John could not tell what function it could serve. Whatever it was, he doubted that it was necessary.
Expendable seemed quite.. strange, honestly. Even past the fact that their very name and face were classified, another thing that John had noticed was the symbol stamped onto their jumpsuit in various places. It was a rather ornate symbol—a swirl, with a crystal in the very center, nestled within the corners of a star that John very quickly recognized as a pentagram.
Frankly, it unsettled him, but that was more so a personal issue compared to the larger one at hand. Why was this man plastered in the same symbol as—practically everything else in the facility was? Yes, now that he thought about it, he had seen this logo on practically everything. He remembered. It was in the submarine, the landing dock—it was even seen engraved into the very corner of those strange, high tech computers he’d seen.

Did Expendable work here? Was that why they were like.. this? Surely, one could not be so desperate as to work for a company that even to a person who knew close to nothing about it, seemed so evil?
Perhaps they simply strongly disliked the pentagram on the jumpsuit. And on.. pretty much everything. It didn’t make sense to them, as to why someplace would make a pentagram their logo. That just seemed.. too on the nose. Or perhaps, it wasn’t a logo. Perhaps they were summoning something here, and that’s why it seemed to be in such severe disrepair. Or this was somehow a lower part of purgatory. One closer to Hell. Had they somehow made a horrid mistake to have been brought here? Were they soon to join the ranks of the worst, most unforgivable of sinners?
John preferred to not humor that possibility—even merely thinking about it made them feel sick with terror. God, please let that not be the case.

Lost in thought, John hardly noticed that they were once again overtaking the other two, only stopping in front of a door that was not yet opened—Expendable had once again stopped to collect more classified folders, taking each and every last one of those wretched papers as though they were as valuable to him as his family photos were—perhaps even more so.
Trying to open it, John let out a small grunt of frustration as they realized that it was locked. It was one of those key panels again, the others which required the little blue cards to open. Wonderful. Now they would have to wait for Expendable to get everything he needed before he actually came over and opened it.
They took to pacing the floor again, fists clenched, attempting to tune out the sound of metal drawers opening and closing shut every ten seconds or so.

They hadn’t prayed in a while. They should do that. It was insulting, frankly, that they hadn’t as soon as they found themselves in that submarine.

“Keycard.”
John stopped in his tracks as he glanced over his shoulder and spotted Expendable making their way towards him, small blue card in hand. “You know, the search for these things would go a lot faster if you, I don’t know, actually did something instead of just standing around. At least Guest is actually useful here.”
The crooked smile on their face, John reckoned, was almost certainly not one of genuine joy, nor kindness.
John narrowed his eyes at Expendable, yet said nothing. He would not give into sin here, no. He would not snap back with any cruel remark. He would bite his tongue, and remain civil in the only way he knew possible at this moment. Remain quiet.
“You could at least move away from the door. So I can, you know, open it.” Expendable said, voice dripping with venom.
He stepped aside, not breaking—what he presumed to be—eye contact with Expendable, watching them stick the card into the scanner until they heard the beep, and the sound of the inner mechanisms of the door shifting. They opened the door, and John followed.

However, Guest strayed behind, moving slower than the rest. She seemed.. rather worse for wear. In fact, now that John thought about it, the blood on her shirt seemed fresh. A concerning amount of it was, actually. Although he did not care much for the person, John couldn’t help but feel just the slightest fragment of concern. Which was good, actually, as that is what good people did, right? He was being a good person, wasn't he? Good people did good things, like helping injured people.

Unable to find proper words, John simply looked at her, and asked a question far too brief to encompass much of anything they actually wanted to say. “Are you coming?” They said, tone far too dull to sound anything but bored, and possibly impatient. Good people did not mess up on things like this. Inwardly, they scolded themselves, regretting even saying anything in the first place. Maybe it would’ve been better if they had just left Guest by itself. That was an awful thing to think. God would not be pleased. God was not pleased—who said God was still not here, watching over John and every action they took?

Guest stared back, looking relatively alive and.. decent, if you could look past the massive shadows beneath its eyes, and the concerningly large bite in its forearm. It nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.. haven’t rested in a while, I think. Sorry.”
John’s gaze went to the bitemark again, wincing slightly. That looked.. painful. “Is it infected? If it’s infected, that’s not good.” He questioned, stating the obvious.
Guest shrugged. “Euh.. I dunno? I hope not. It’s fine though, doesn’t hurt much.” She assured, beginning to move slowly towards the door, as though to avoid causing more worry—or to avoid Expendable from getting mad again. “It’ll heal.”

“I thought we said we were going.” Came the irritating voice of Expendable, as they leaned against the doorway. “Come on.”
He could not stand that person. Trying to ignore the rage that was slowly rising within him, John gestured towards Guest’s arm. “Injury.” He stated. “Does it not seem unwise to continue, with risk of infection?”
As Expendable turned their head to look at Guest, the latter practically leapt away from them in discomfort. “No- no— it’s fine. Really. I- I appreciate your concern and all that, but I’m fine. We can just keep going, if that works for you both.” It blurted, tripping over its own words as it threw its hands up in front of themselves in what was almost a defensive position.
Expendable did not reply, simply looking at the wound for what felt like centuries. They shifted their weight from foot to foot, just blankly staring at the bleeding bite of what was almost a complete stranger. Finally, they spoke, voice uncaring. “We can take a detour.”

-

John took a seat on a dark blue couch, in a little, surprisingly well-lit side room (presumably some sort of office, based off the two metal desks in the corner.), watching as Expendable took gauze from the first aid kit they had precariously balanced on the armrest of the other end.
“I’m not good with this sort of thing.” Expendable admitted with irritation. “But I’ll try, I guess.”
Guest stood at the other side of the room, visibly uncomfortable and overwhelmed, yet saying nothing. She seemed to do that a lot. Did not seem pleased with her surroundings, or the people she was with, but just.. did not say much. When she did, it was always somewhat unclear what she was talking about, or what she was asking, due to the sheer amount of ‘I think’s and ‘Maybe’s. Was she really uncertain about this, or was she simply saying that to be more polite? It was not clear.

Expendable sighed in irritation, as they fought to get a pair of scissors from the kit. “I don’t like you.” They snapped. “Either of you. I don’t want to do this shit. I’m just stuck with you two for now, and I’m hoping the same thing that put you in here takes you out soon. But for now, I’m not planning on seeing anyone die. Got it?”

Kind of ironic, given the fact that John woke up here after his death.

To fill the silence that no one else cared to, Expendable quickly added, “They make me feel weird and gross. It’s just.. eugh…” They trailed off, pulling out a tube of neosporin from the medkit, and setting it down on the coffee table before them, growling in frustration as it kept nearly slipping out of their hands. It was, honestly, rather amusing to watch them struggle like this, after how they’ve been acting all this time. Although, John had the self restraint needed to not laugh at them, thank the Lord. “…Like they’re supposed to be alive. But there’s nothing behind their eyes. It’s just all.. blank and glassy. I don’t like it, and I don’t intend on stepping over any of your corpses. Okay?”

Guest and John both nodded. John wondered if Guest was also just the slightest bit concerned as to why this man has seen dead bodies before. John did not feel like asking, however. That was not a thing you typically asked people, he believed. Perhaps they had simply been unfortunate enough to be there for a family member’s death in their youth. One could not just assume that someone was a murderer, that was simply absurd.

Letting out a small hum of satisfaction, Expendable looked at their pile of gauze, scissors, and antibiotics that were certainly not meant to be used on wounds of this size. “Yeah, I think we’re good here.” They said, to no one in particular. “Guest.”
Not immediately answering to that name, Guest jumped, turning to look at Expendable. “..Alright.” It mumbled, fidgeting with the torn edge of its glove as it shuffled closer to Expendable, stiffly holding out its arm.
They unscrewed the neosporin, and silently handed it to Guest, who, after a moment of confusion, slowly applied it to its wound—it definitely did not look pleasant. Frankly, it looked as though it was in quite a bit of pain.
John was genuinely so, so glad it was not him in this situation. Honestly, maybe it was better that almost any major injury he suffered would just kill him. Better to reset the whole thing, than have to wait ages for it to slowly and painfully heal, was it not?
Truly, God was so kind, so generous, to provide John with such a gift, to grace him with this mercy, for it was one that was not so easily granted to others.

He watched as Expendable tightly wrapped the gauze around Guest’s forearm after several failed attempts, looking honestly a bit doubtful of their work. Which, of course, was inducing much confidence in Guest, who was trembling like some sort of frightened field mouse at this point. The wrap looked fine, actually, although with John’s limited medical knowledge this could certainly not be the case. Either way, he did not care. It was not as though the quality affected him in any way.

After a few moments, Guest spoke up. “So.. are we.. going now?” She asked cautiously.
Expendable paused, tapping their fingers against the couch pillow as they thought, disgusting on the coffee table. They acted almost as though they owned this place. “Oh, Guest,” They cooed passive-aggressively, clumsily standing up as they did so. “That’s a great idea! Well, everyone, let’s get going. Up, up.”
It was almost as though they had wanted to stay there. Truth be told, John wouldn’t have blamed them. However, Guest just had to ruin it. Thanks, Guest. He shot her a brief glare, anger bubbling up inside him.
Guest met his eyes for but a moment, quickly looking away, focused on some floor tile a little while away—pretending to have not noticed. “I mean, if you want to stay, then we—“ It began, quickly getting cut off by Expendable.
“No, no, no. Don’t be such a people pleaser, Guest, why don’t we follow your lead for a while? Eh?” They said, sickly sweet, grin plastered onto their face in what was very, very clear sarcasm.
John finally hauled himself off the couch, taking to pacing round the doorway, picking at his forearm as he did so. God, he awfully wanted to go back. Everything here just felt so wrong, almost tainted, in a way that seeped under his skin and refused to be scrubbed out. It was sickening.

Guest had silently walked towards the door, opening it in a halfhearted way which suggested it hadn’t actually wanted to leave quite yet. It glanced back at the side office one last time, before walking into the next room, Expendable trailing close behind.
John too, followed, feeling quite saddened and quite weary in a rather, dare they say, pathetic way. They so desperately just wanted to go home. They did not know where home was. They could barely consider their purgatory a home, for a home was not usually an endless dark maze with not a single moment to rest or even breathe, and no, they could not consider Heaven their home, for they had not once seen its gates, and perhaps they never would. They had never once seen its gates, not even when they were just freshly departed. That was one thing John was certain of, despite barely remembering any of the events shortly after their death.
Ever since they had died, it had all just been a nonstop blur, a nonstop rapid descent into something horrid, a descent that they had perceived to be an ascent but they had been Lied to, by someone they thought they could Trust. They were unsure of who it was exactly, or what the lie even was but they knew it had happened. They were lied to. And they were going to pay the price for falling for it.

Being here was doing funny things to their head. They weren’t thinking clearly, there was just.. something off about it all. They weren’t sure what, but something was deeply, horribly wrong. John’s nails dug deeper into their arm as they clawed at it, not paying attention to the burning pain that was beginning to emerge. Why should they, when this would provide them with a momentary relief? A reassurance, that everything would be Alright?
If God was not here to embrace them, they would just embrace themselves, no matter how ineffective in the long run that would be.

They should really say a prayer right about now. What if that was the only thing between them and eternal damnation?
They had to pray.
They had to ask for forgiveness.
They had to repent.

John found himself lagging behind, kneeling and clasping his hands together in a desperate plea to their Lord.
“Dear Lord, please, I beg of you, forgive me. For I am a sinner, and you know this well. I believe we both do. So please, God, let me see just how you saved me. Send me back, for I feel myself slipping back into sinful thought and action in this place. I—maybe that’s the point of this. If it is, forgive me. Please forgive me. Just— please, I don’t want to go to Hell. Please don’t let me get to that point, I am begging you. I will prove that I am not too far gone, I will prove that I’m not a lost cause. I just need your help.
God, I am a weak man.” He muttered, feeling positively ashamed of himself. “Please. Grant me protection, and give me the strength needed to stay away from sin. Amen.”

Chapter Text

It was difficult getting used to other people. With every unfamiliar footstep, they found themselves getting the urge to look back, instincts screaming at them that they were being hunted—that they would surely get their throat torn out if they did not stop and look back. And yet, when they actually listened, all they saw was one of those two.
Guest.. Guest was somewhat tolerable. Just barely. They strongly disliked it, but that was nothing compared to the hatred they felt every time they so much as glanced at John. God, they couldn’t stand that man. They could just tell he thought he was better than them. More knowledgeable, even. He was just so arrogant. Quiet, only opening his mouth—if he even had one—to spit up some passive aggressive nonsense every once in a while. They wanted to kill him. Badly. They’ve done it before. On accident, of course, but they’ve killed people. Urbanshade wouldn’t care. Well, actually, they might. They still weren’t sure if John wasn’t merely some kind of anomaly they had locked up down here which managed to get out. In that case, Urbanshade would care. They’d probably kill them for that.
Otherwise, they could just kill him. And it wouldn’t affect their criminal record in the slightest—that was going to get wiped, anyway. Or perhaps they’d just wake up back in that fucking submarine, and he’d have miraculously sprung back to life. It was a time loop, after all. Unless John was the missing piece—the thing Expendable needed to do something about in order to break out. Or something like that.
Either way, Expendable wouldn’t mind. Urbanshade disposing of them could break the loop, theoretically—although, setting off the PDG did nothing of that sort. They knew that, for sure. Not that they could exactly influence much, with the parasite and all that, however they could at least.. try to fight for control. Or just silently beg for the parasite to do certain things for them. Perhaps, it heard them, as several times it had seemed to actually listen. Or maybe that was just a coincidence. Probably that, yeah.
God, they wanted out of this loop so bad. They had been starved of any autonomy for so long, unable to even control their own goddamn body for what felt like ages. Frankly, it had left them quite disorientated the past hour or so. Or however long this loop had been going on for. They kept forgetting that the parasite wasn’t here to just.. do things for them. No, they too, had to stay alert. They couldn’t rely on the parasite to make sure its host survived anymore. Great.
They could, theoretically, just do it now. Try to break out of the loop. Yes, they saw several potential ways out, just in the room they were walking through. Perhaps they could hit themselves with a hard object repeatedly. Something like, say, a locker door, or a wall. Walls could work. The PDG would be easy. Perhaps they just needed to actually tamper with it—something that the parasite had never actually even attempted to do before. That’d be easy and fast. Faster than the plan with the wall, anyway.
Not like they’d use any of these, anyways. No, they were far too terrified of just waking up in the submarine again. Worse yet, waking up in the submarine with the parasite back. They had to at least savor every moment they had free from its control, didn’t they?

“Hey, where’d John go?”
Guest’s voice snapped him awake from his thoughts. He just barely stopped himself from flinching in barely controlled fear—which quickly turned to an annoyance he’d grown quite accustomed with. That was a great question. One that Expendable did not care to answer. He did not know where John was, nor did he give a shit. They could’ve gotten themselves killed, and frankly, Expendable wouldn’t have shed a single tear. It wasn’t as though they would be seeing his corpse, anyway. He sharply inhaled, turning to face Guest.
“I ‘unno.’ He said. “Perhaps you should’ve told me earlier that they were missing or whatever. Instead of now. Cause we’re certainly not going back for them now.”
Silence. Guest seemed to struggle to find what to say, before eventually resigning to a John-less loop and sighing. “Alright.” She muttered, looking away.
“We should just keep going. This is far too slow. You are bad at this.” Expendable snapped, walking over to a nearby desk and snatching a DNA vial off the desk, slipping it into his pocket, before making his way to the door. Perhaps he was unreasonably angry, perhaps this was a bit excessive, but he didn’t care. He really just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

They continued walking through room after room, pausing at desks to collect any spare documents they could possibly have just lying around. That was a great way to learn more about the Blacksite, he’d learned. Thankfully, the parasite seemed to be rather interested in knowing more about its environment, and it would ever so kindly open the documents, and seemingly read them. Of course, this meant that Expendable was also free to read them if he pleased.
The documents had all sorts of information, some more interesting than others. Some were just payment information, or workers’ taxes or other forms that had been haphazardly stuck into folders labeled as ‘classified’ for seemingly no reason. Perhaps Urbanshade did not have any folders not labeled as such. Or perhaps they took paperwork incredibly seriously. It did not matter to them. It was all just money to them. Sebastian also, could likely care less about some poor intern’s letter from their bank. However, a letter from some guy’s bank could be the last piece they needed to get a nifty flashlight, or perhaps a SPR-INT. Those were always handy. Hurt like hell to inject, however. Not like they had any say in that.
Yet another issue with the parasite, was that it appeared to not feel pain. Or perhaps, it just didn’t care. For it would commonly put Expendable through excruciating pain—pain that made them desperately want to just keel over and die—and never even flinch. It would just keep going, as though it had never happened, except to effortlessly apply some bandages from a medkit or whatnot.
It was, honestly, a bit terrifying. Not that Expendable would ever admit that, however.
It’s not like it mattered anymore. They were free, after all.

They quickly collected another file, before opening the next door. They were now on.. door 76. Approximately twenty or so doors before they could trade their research away. Better to collect as much as possible now. Take it slow.

Expendable was stopped in their tracks by the faintest green light, just a few meters away. It almost appeared to shift the fabric of reality itself. It was dreadful in a way Expendable could not place. They backed away from it, trying to hide their overwhelming terror from Guest. They had never seen anything like this before. In all of their time here, nothing like this had ever happened. Something was seriously wrong.
The glow warped, materializing into the—unfortunately—familiar form of John Grace, sitting on the floor. He was twitching, clutching his head, as though in pain.
The terror did not give way to anger, surprisingly. God, what the hell was that. What the fuck was that. While they did not feel an ounce of concern for the near-stranger, they did fear for themselves. Perhaps this was just one of those new things that happened every once in a while. That just popped up. Like the turrets, or the candlebearers. That.. was honestly probably the case. Calm down. You coward. Jesus.

Guest, ever the height of politeness, kept its feet planted firmly on the ground, instead choosing to look at John in concern. “Oh my god!!” It blurted, startled. “Are- are you okay?” Its act did not fool Expendable. Someone who actually cared would’ve rushed to their side, helped them up, checked if they were injured. And yet, Guest didn’t do any of that. Just stood there, as though separated by an imaginary wall. Good. John surely wouldn’t be missed.

Expendable refused to take even just one step towards John, instead choosing to point in his general direction. “Get up.” They said,
The man looked up at them, whole body shaking. Their eyes were wide in a way that suggested fear, rather than their usual blank stare which hid god-knows-what.
After a moment, they slowly attempted to stand up, using a nearby wall to balance. “What,” they demanded, hoarse voice strained as they struggled to keep calm, “Was that.”
Expendable stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t want to just admit that he didn’t know. That’d be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Especially in front of John. He simply smiled, scrambling to find a lie to quickly spit up. “Well—“ He hesitated, taking a deep, shaky breath. “That was a.. a.. Watcher.” What a shit name. It didn’t matter, however, as long as John and Guest took the bait and clung onto their words with the desperation you’d expect from two people stuck in a completely unfamiliar environment.
“A— Watcher?” Guest said quietly, after a moment, looking vaguely unsettled. “What.. is that? What does it do?”
John merely stood there, glaring daggers at Expendable as they attempted to regain their balance, pushing themselves away from the wall and stumbling their way to, unfortunately, join Guest and Expendable once more.
He narrowed his eyes, looking at Guest. God, could that person not just wait for an explanation. For once. “It does.. that. It— it targets those who stay behind. And it follows them up until you get into the submarine at the end. Stalks you like.. prey, you see.” He said. This was all.. not true. Probably. “So, be careful. And don’t stay behind. I’m sick and tired of having to tell you all that.”

Guest and John both looked at him. It made his skin itch with discomfort. Perhaps this was the price he paid for having little to no human interaction for ages. They both said nothing, just stared at him. As though they were waiting for him to continue speaking. Very well then. Perhaps he will continue.
“It’s true.” He snapped. “Did you not listen to what I said! You listen to me! God, I’m just trying to make sure we all get out of here unscathed. And yet, you just have to make it harder for everyone.” He knew that they’d probably not get out unscathed. Or at all, anyway. The confidence he had in himself was beginning to slip, giving way to uncertainty and doubt. He wasn’t even sure that he’d make it. He had never actually done this before. Not without the parasite.
However, there was still a chance. He still had a couple more tricks up his sleeve. Expendable sighed, sticking his hand into one of the jumpsuit’s shirt pockets, retrieving five golden, weathered coins.
They were all varying degrees of dirty, but frankly, that did not matter. Not if you knew the power they held, they didn’t. “Okay so,” He said, fumbling with the coins. “Here’s the deal. If you choose to be stupid, and not LISTEN TO ME, you’ll get your access to these neat little things revoked.” He held one of the coins up to the harsh, artificial lights of the Blacksite, letting the little metal that wasn’t covered in a layer of filth gleam in it.
Perplexed, Guest tilted her head at the coin. She clearly, did not know of the power it held. “What is that.” She stated dully, not a scrap of interest in her voice. What a foolish individual.
“This,” Expendable said, smiling, in a way that did not reach their eyes. “Is a revive token. It allows you to cheat death. Bribe the ferryman. Keep it on you, and you will know when to use it. However— you don’t listen, and you get it taken away. If you want to behave like a disobedient toddler, you’ll be treated like one. And toddlers don’t get to bribe people. No no, no, that’s for grown-ups. Got it?” They said, looking up at John and Guest, speaking to them as though they were bratty, misbehaving children.

John and Guest hesitatingly nodded. Good. Perhaps, Expendable could bribe them into obedience, with the promise of cheating death. That’d be nice. The two’d rely on them, wouldn’t they? Hang onto each and every one of their words, desperate for a lick of power and control in a world unfamiliar to them. They looked tired. Aching. Restless. Just like Expendable. While they’d certainly never admit it, they’d absolutely fall for this trick, if it was Guest or—that godforsaken bastard, John, doing this to them. They would fall right into their wretched trap. Although, admittedly, they’d fear death significantly less so than these two presumably did. Perhaps, they’d listen less. Prove that they aren’t lesser than the others. Or something. God, what were they even doing.

“Good.” Expendable said, handing Guest a coin, nearly dropping it in the process. They grunted in frustration, trying to avoid coming in actual physical contact with the stranger as much as possible. Turning towards John, they shot him a glance that they hoped got the message across—the message, of course, being ’I hope you die. I hope you don’t listen, so I can tear that fucking coin away from you. Fight back, too. Send you straight to that damn ferryman. No coin. Just whatever the fuck awaits you afterwards. I hate you.’ They attempted to throw the coin into his open palm, missing entirely. It smacked itself against John’s shoulder, and the man just barely caught it before it fell to the floor. He looked at it with vague distrust, before pocketing it. At least, Expendable assumed he did. Couldn’t really tell, to be frank.

”Keep these with you.” They said. “If you lose them, I will— I will actually fucking leave you behind. For dead. You’re on your own. Okay? Okay.”

Guest and John both made sounds of agreement, nodding once again. “Very well.” Expendable said.
Now, each gifted with a tool to cheat death itself, they set off again.

Expendable was truly a generous individual.

Chapter Text

The concept of coming back from the dead was not one Guest was unacquainted with. It had grown quite used to clawing its way out of its own grave. To pry open its metaphorical coffin with all the rage of someone who desperately craved nothing more but to see its family again—of someone who had come so, so close to doing just that, time and time and time again, only to be sent back to the very start of its journey. This too, would make them lose—progress, energy, and time. However, it did not, and could never compare to how much progress it would’ve lost if it had just accepted its death.
While she could not fully remember how the event had unfolded all too well, she still remembered parts of it. She could only assume Rush had killed her—as one would not expect lights flickering to be much of a cue to run and hide somewhere, so as to not lose their life. And there she saw it—the Guiding Light. The closest thing to a God, a bottomless ethereal glow, endlessly writhing and folding into itself, in a form that only vaguely resembled that of a humanoid. That was the best she could describe it. It tends to be a bit difficult—to describe the appearance of a divine being.
And she desperately begged, pleaded, kneeling before this being, desperately begging to be brought back. Be given another chance.
And, to her surprise, the Guiding Light agreed. It gave her as many chances as she wished. As many as she needed. How generous.

Far, far more generous than that Expendable appeared to perceive themselves to be, for the mere gift of.. a gritty old coin. It was not that Guest didn’t believe their claims, that it could bring them back from the dead, no, no, no. She could fathom that quite well, actually, seeing as she’d done just that, more times than she could count. It was simply the way Expendable carried themselves. Parading around as though they were superior. Their sickeningly prideful mannerisms, tripping and stumbling about the cold, stone floor, vomiting up cruel, hollow words, for what seemed to be merely for their own amusement.

It wanted Expendable gone. Although, with its luck, it wouldn’t count on its wish ending up granted any time soon. It wanted John gone, too. It didn’t want them dead, it just wanted to go home, honestly. Yes, now that it thought about it, that should've solved all of its problems. To go home, and take a hot shower, and lay in its own, actual bed, and take a long, long nap. However, that was not what was happening. Far from it. In reality, it was standing in a cold, cramped locker, waiting for what was practically just Rush to pass by. Again. This was the.. what? Third, maybe fourth time it’s happened. It had not once caught a glimpse of the creature’s face, although, it was unsure if it even wanted to, and even more unsure if it would stay that way for very long. If this situation was anything like its own, back at the hotel, it would be stuck here for a long, long time.
Frankly, Guest was mostly confident in her ability to survive here. Anything they were met with here seemed to reflect the various abilities—or, perhaps ‘mechanics’— of the various horrors back at the old hotel. A good portion of her techniques still worked here.
She was not all too confident in John’s ability to survive, however. That man was, to put it kindly, a ticking time bomb. She doubted he would last very long, with the way he would just wander off, or the way he had already just barely dodged the swing of the Reaper’s scythe. Yes, he would simply walk it off, with what seemed to be an air of false confidence. He would glare at Expendable—shoot them looks of disgust behind their back, as though his recklessness was their fault.
Although it deeply pained her to take Expendable’s side on anything, she had to admit—John seemed, frankly, quite insufferable. While she did appreciate having someone who would say, at least, something to Expendable, it did horribly get on her nerves. There was just something about the way John spoke, his curious, often unreadable mannerisms, that just so deeply pissed her off. She did not like arrogant people. Not in the slightest. And, so far, having to put up with just that, had been much more difficult than anything else they encountered.

She stood idly by John’s side, watching Expendable empty another drawer of what appeared to be classified documents. And USB sticks. Lots of USB sticks. She tapped her foot against the cold floor in poorly hidden impatience—not at the act itself, no, she knew fully well how it was to search for valuables in any nook and cranny in practically any room she’s come across—but rather at who was doing it. For an individual who expressed anger and frustration whenever John, or Guest stalled, he seemed to enjoy taking his sweet, sweet time to fumble his way through metal cabinet drawers for what felt like hours. The exhaustion that had crept its way into Guest’s bones a long, long time ago threatened to overwhelm her as she struggled to keep upright—and struggled not to show it. Perhaps, in the solitude of the hotel, she would allow herself to stumble, to weep, and to collapse onto the dusty floor of a side room to get just a brief wink of sleep. But here? No. Weakness could not do.

It did not trust either of these people in the slightest, and it refused to show that it was not at tip-top condition. Of course, it was impossible to avoid—it would never forget the sickening dread in that side room, just..what? Half an hour ago? To put its wellbeing into the hands of someone it knew it could not trust, to have said someone bandage its bleeding arm, and not dig their nails into its open wound till it became even more of a bloodied mess, was.. interesting. It could not lie, it did not fully mind—thought it was a kind-hearted gesture, even. Yet, it would never even begin to utter such confession aloud. It did somewhat appreciate it, heavy emphasis on the ’somewhat’. It knew it was all so, so conflicting, so nonsensical and contradictory, but it couldn’t help feeling a parasocial camaraderie for that foolish man. John too, but for different reasons—it was somewhat intrigued by his peculiar appearance, and doubted he didn’t have an interesting story to tell. Additionally, he seemed to have more of a backbone than Guest did.
At least, that was the way she saw it. Perhaps, all of this was merely nonsense. There was a high likelihood it was. Perhaps, this was all too shameful, to do anything about. However, hostility was anything but good remedy for this. No, that would simply be unwise, would it not?

Ages seemed to pass before Expendable opened the next door, filling the room with a strange green light. Expendable groaned, before turning towards Guest and John. Hands clasped together, he took a deep breath, his usual air of irritation about him. Despite the—somewhat unsettling—censor bar hiding his eyes, Guest doubted there was much she could learn from them about how he felt—his mannerisms, which were albeit somewhat stilted, already said all she needed to know.
“Fine. So, I suppose, it’s not thaaaaat big of a deal if you die now, but still. Don’t. If you do that, I’ll kill you.” He said, a false cheery ring to his voice. “Believe me—I’ll do it. And guess what! I still don’t know, if you’ll be back in the next loop. So don’t do anything stupid.”
John rolled his eyes, dully stating, “Just tell us what we need to do, why don’t you, Expendable?”
Honestly, Guest agreed. She nodded subtly, staring down at her shoes.
“Very well.” Expendable said, voice strained from barely contained wrath. “Now, like I said before, don’t do stupid shit. Don’t die. Listen to me. So, listen to me now..” Guest wished he’d just get to the goddamn point. “So, that over there, is Eyefestation. Its… a big shark. What’s important, is that you get through the room. Do not look at it. Do not listen to what anyone other than I tell you to do. Got it?”
Ah. So it was practically just.. Eyes. Got it. Guest nodded. John did not.
“If it is not too much to ask, could you perhaps tell us, why all of that is so important?” He questioned, tilting his head to the side slightly. He peered at Expendable, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, hand grasping at the cross around his neck. “It is not too useful to simply tell us what to do. I’d like to know the consequences, too, you see.” John’s tone was polite, but flat and disinterested. It was almost as though he didn’t actually care, but rather wanted to irritate Expendable further. If that was the case, it was clearly working.
Expendable gritted his teeth, attempting to keep his composure. “I thought that we all wanted to leave, didn’t we? Isn’t this just horribly time consuming?”
“We did.” John nodded. “However—is it not unwise to not tell us, what we are to face? Consequence-wise?”

She supposed he was.. not wrong.
“It’s a shark. A big, green shark. I’ve said that already.” Expendable said, gesturing towards the open door. “And, if you look into its eyes, you die. Some radioactive shit or.. whatever.” He scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “It melts your brain through like, your eyes, I guess. And it HURTS! It hurts a LOT!! So don’t be a dumbass, and don’t look at the damn shark.”
Oh. That’s.. great. Lovely, even.
Things here appeared to be not unlike that of Guest’s own world—the prison she couldn’t help but call home, the hotel—and yet, it was all so different. She had noticed, almost immediately, that the ‘Anglers’ Expendable spoke of heavily resembled Rush and Ambush. It was.. odd. It was as though she had ended up in a world just slightly left from her own, stranded with—thank god—a decent amount of knowledge on how to survive. That was, of course, not counting Expendable’s ‘helpful’ advice, which felt more as though they were merely looking for an excuse to be rude. That was.. most likely the case here, in full honesty.

It wondered, if John’s world was anything like this. Perhaps, it was wildly different, given just how peculiar he looked among the grim, run-down atmosphere of the facility. It felt as though it were watching a cartoon character, roaming around an abandoned factory. Based off what it knew and had seen from this place, it couldn’t help but guess that, perhaps, that was the case, really. It was almost comical. The man just did not fit with his surroundings, in the slightest. Stuck out, like a sore thumb.

“Very well. I have seen worse.” The man stated, glaring down at Expendable with a look of silent contempt. “Let’s get going, then.” He stepped into the green light—of course, not reflecting even a fraction of it—and immediately broke into a sprint, head low, hands covering his wide eyes. Upon reaching the doorway, he crouched down, dropping to his knees like an idiot. Although the light did not reach that corner, upon further examination—squinting, and using context clues—Guest determined that he was likely praying. For, and to what exactly, it didn’t know. And, frankly, that scared it a little bit.
Expendable let out an almost animalistic growl of annoyance, hissing through their teeth—“You were supposed to wait for me.” They quickly followed into the room, using their hands to shield themselves from the unnerving green glow of the shark’s gaze. Perhaps, it would be wise to follow. It stepped in shortly after them, staring down at its shoes.

Nothing could’ve prepared it for what came next. Not even Expendable’s little speech of sorts.

Don’t you want to see your family again? Spoke an unfamiliar, calm voice in the back of Guest’s mind. Don’t you want to see them? You haven’t seen them in so long. You don’t remember their faces, don’t you?

It was true, yes.

You can see them again! There is a way. It vaguely remembered Expendable’s warning—to not listen to what anyone other than Expendable said to it in this room. Yet, it did not listen. It hesitated—despite its own better judgment.

All you have to do, is look into my eyes.

It stopped fully in its tracks. Was it really that easy? Could it really, really see them again? All it had to do, was to look at the shark? It sounded too good to be true, it probably was too good to be true. And yet, it couldn’t help but look up, and out the window. It wanted to see its family again. It needed to see its family again. God, it would do anything to feel their warm embrace again, just one more time. Perhaps, it was at least worth a try. A part of her knew this wasn’t true—knew it would likely, merely end in death. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care. It wasn’t as though death actually meant anything now, anyway. No, she would simply wake up back in the hotel. Or the submarine. Or whatever.
Perhaps, it really was that easy!
She was going to see her family again.
She was going to see her family again.
All she needed to do was look—

-

She was being roughly dragged across the floor, and into the next room by none other than Expendable, with a skull-splitting headache. This seemed familiar. The world spun as he let go of her arm, letting it limply hit the floor before she had the opportunity to fully process what was happening. The shark. What the hell did the shark do?

Dazed and shaken, she rubbed at her painfully sore eyes, looking up at the man standing over her. He was practically—no, literally trembling from what seemed to be pure, unfiltered rage. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he had taken upon himself what seemed to have been a trait exclusive to John, pacing around her in short, quick circles.
“You—“ He started, voice quivering in fury, hands clenched into fists. “You.. You. Yyyyou are.. so foolish.”
Frankly, this was a bit terrifying to hear. Still disorientated, she found herself glancing around the room for John. She doubted he’d care—it wasn’t as though he cared about many things. In fact, that man seemed rather shallow to her. Not as bad as Expendable, but..
Quickly, she found that this was, indeed, the case—he was standing there, but a few meters away, simply staring at Expendable with an unreadable expression on his face. What a lovely, christlike man, truly.

“GOD! WHY would you… DO THAT?! Oh my god..” Expendable shouted. “I— I swear to god… I want to—.. I’m.. I’M GOING TO KILL YOU. YOU. YOU UTTER FUCKING DUMBASS!!! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU??! DO YOU NOT LISTEN? DO YOU NOT LISTEN? DO YOU. NOT. LISTEN??! VILE. SICK.”

Guest cautiously struggled to her feet, stumbling to the other side of the room. Closer to John, however utterly useless he may be. A pit grew in her stomach as she realized. Expendable despised her, too. Truly, the feeling seemed to be mutual. It likely was, from the very beginning. And yet, she had a faint hope, that perhaps she could’ve gotten him to at the very least tolerate her a smidge more than John. Why? Hell if she knew. Perhaps, it was for some twisted game of manipulation—perhaps, she intended to use him, or his corpse, as a ladder of sorts—a way to claw her way to the top, and to freedom. Perhaps, it was merely the horrid loneliness getting to her.
If for the latter, she’d really be the most pathetic person in the world, wouldn’t she?

“OH! GREAT! GREAT! You’re scared, aren’t you? You’re SCARED OF ME! GOOD!” Expendable screamed, once again approaching her. As always, their movements were somewhat uncoordinated, practically tripping over their own feet in their blind rage. “YOU SHOULD BE! I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU. I’LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!!!”

John narrowed his eyes, placing his hand on their shoulder. “Shhh.” He simply said.
“DON’T SHUSH ME! DON’T FUCKING SHUSH ME, YOU BASTARD!!!” Came his response. “I’LL KILL YOU, TOO!”

“You will not kill anyone.” He said dully. “That will not happen. We all know that.” The unsaid, but blatantly obvious, ’we all know you don’t have the guts for it.’ hung in the air, untouched for but a brief moment.

The expendable barked a short, cutting laugh. “Ohhhh, you really think I’m joking, don’t you?? You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t fucking know. I will hold you down, and fucking tear out your goddamn throat.” They hissed.
God, what were they talking about? Guest wasn’t sure if they were.. an actual threat, or not. Perhaps, this was all merely an act. Or, perhaps, they were actually, well and truly, as they claimed, dangerous. Was it worth it to find out?
She remained, as she often did, uttering not a word. Keeping silent. Perhaps, this was all still salvageable. She could still get Expendable to like her, if she just bit her tongue and bided her time. She would wait, and pray that John would happen to say all she would’ve wanted to say, for her.

“No, you will not.” John responded, grip on Expendable’s shoulder tightening. He leaned down to speak to them—still towering over the short, scrawny man. “Look at yourself. You are acting like a child here, are you not?”

They growled, grabbing John’s hand, attempting to dig their nails into his skin. “I’M NOT A FUCKING INFANT!!”
“Exactly.” He responded, a tinge of anger leaking into his voice. Guest couldn’t help but notice the panicked way he flinched away the moment Expendable retaliated against his grasp—his already wide eyes widening a fraction more, full of wild fear, for but a split second. He attempted to worm his way out of Expendable’s hold, struggling to jerk his arm away. “You’re a grown man. Act your age.”

They screamed, struggling to reach John’s eye level, seemingly in an attempt to intimidate him. “SHUT UP!!! JUST.. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! You aren’t listening. You need to listen. You need to listen. Eh? Eh? Eh? Ever heard of that?! You don’t know anything about me!! You really, really DON’T!! And so you will not tell me what I will and will not do, you fucking burdens.” The expendable fell—mostly—silent, shakily heaving as they tried to catch their breath. They stumbled backwards, presumably glaring at John—of course, it was impossible to tell, with the horrid black bar partially obscuring their face.

It was, honestly startling to see Expendable act in such a way. Yet, it couldn’t say it was fully surprised. Guest had barely processed that it was even out of the room with that damned shark, before they began to scream in its face. It still couldn’t fully process all which had occurred back there. It didn’t want to. It did not want to think about that shark, and all it could do was hope they couldn’t encounter it again.

It could, at the very least, appreciate the fact that they’ve seemingly made the focus of their sudden meltdown John rather quickly. It believed it owed him for that, at least. Yes, it would certainly give John a little bit of help, perhaps, as a way of thank you. That would certainly work.

John narrowed his eyes, straightening up and looking down at Expendable, partially hunched over and shaking. “Are you done?” He said, the smallest, faintest whisper of a mocking laugh leaking into his voice.

Clearly, this was not the smartest move—no, clearly, in that moment, John had become too prideful. Lacking caution. Both John and Guest seemed to come to that realization in the span of just a few seconds, as Expendable let out an inhuman shriek and tackled John to the floor in a blind rage, desperately clawing at his face.
Oh. Oh god. Perhaps, Expendable wasn’t lying, when they claimed they truly intended to kill the two of them.
“FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN. TO ME. LISTEN. TO. ME. YOU DISGUST ME.” They continued, another emotion evident in their voice—what appeared to be desperation. Curious.

John shoved them off of himself—albeit with difficulty, as Expendable frantically held onto what was presumably a cloak of sorts. Of course, it was difficult to tell, with John’s unusual appearance. He rose back to his feet, somewhat worse for wear, and took several strides away from Expendable. “Very well.” John said, tilting his head—an action which seemed to cause him pain. A twinkle of—obviously false—glee in his eyes, he turned towards Guest, simply stating, “Why don’t we listen to Expendable over here?”

A difficult decision, indeed. Agreeing, would mean presumably getting yelled at. By Expendable, of all people. However, disagreeing, would likely lead to a similar outcome, merely with less potential benefits in the future. Wouldn’t that be a pity? A pity indeed. Guest slowly nodded, with utmost caution. She spoke, working overtime to smooth any trace of fear from her voice, hands in her pockets, in what she presumed was a casual pose. “I think we should listen to what Expendable has to say.” She said, near-robotically, a blank smile on her face as Expendable’s focus once again turned towards her.

“Oh, good.” Expendable said, just a fraction away from the same moment as John replied, “Alright.”

He approached her again, slowly. He stopped just a couple feet away, taking to pacing the floor once again. “You,” He started, voice like the rest of him—shaking, “Are a disgusting little idiot. You do not listen. YOU, ARE A FUCKING FALIURE. God, I should’ve just left you for dead. Both of you.”

Guest merely nodded, looking down into what she assumed were his eyes. Just nod. Nod and agree. He would be useful later. Just put up with all of this, and surely you’ll be able to see them again. Or.. something. Frankly, she was losing hope now. And yet, she could not fully allow herself to, for that was the sole reason she was being kept alive in the first place. Guest did not wish to find out what exactly lied past the permanent, lasting death—the final door opened—and the final one closed. Not just yet.

It almost seemed as though Expendable was wearing himself out the longer he threw this little tantrum. His voice so noticeably weak—God, his throat was likely practically bleeding at this point, was it not? He was stumbling, desperately grasping for things to say—something he had done since the very start, yet it seemed even more blatant now.
“JUST LISTEN! BOTH OF YOU!!” He shouted again, sounding so desperate, it was almost pathetic. “Just listen to me. And you, Guest, you idiot. You fucking idiot. You.. What did I tell you? What were you thinking? Huh? Huh? FOOL. IDIOT. It’s almost comical!” Expendable spat. “You will die. You will DIE.”

Yes, that was likely true. And yet, it was not as though that mattered, did it now? Expendable himself had stated his situation was not unlike Guest’s, did he not? They’d all just wake up back at the start. It didn’t matter. It was all but a loop. Run after run after run after run, spent wasting their lives. Guest hated to admit it, but a part of her wanted to go back to the hotel. At least she was used to that place. At least, she wouldn't get aggressively yelled at by some insufferable idiot.
“I get what you mean!” She said, shrinking back slightly. Forcing her voice to be higher, more expressive. Less confrontational. She must shave back any spines or thorns in her personality, her mannerisms, her anything. That was the sacrifice she needed to make, in order to gain a useful asset in this godforsaken place.

“That was my bad.” She said, despising the way every word tasted on her tongue. It disgusted her, to act this way. It was disgusting. It was just so insufferable, so painfully, sickeningly sweet.
It was a sacrifice she was willing to make.