Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The blacksite had never been a friendly place.

He knows that like the back of his hand.

Sebastian slithers through the dirty halls, he had memorized the layout yet it still felt endless. The halls stretched on and on, blood scattered and dripped of the walls with a sickening thud. The putrid smell of wounds and death clamped like metal.

It was as natural as the air he breathes.

It's not like they were expected to come back. The expendables would come in, trade away any loose assets they'd carry, and die before reaching the crystal. Sebastian has to survive and so he looks their bodies, resells the items and voila; the perfect business model.

It reminded him of being a kid on those Saturday afternoons, trading lemon juice for cents. Except the cens were files and the juice were scavenged goods.

What else could he do with the bodies anyway? He had already massacred the vending machines and any scraps he found in any food related areas. He survives strictly off of Wall Dweller flesh and, if lucky enough, some long expired snacks or creatures from the let vand zone. He wasn't a cannibal.

Is he human enough to be one?

It's whatever, he either lets them rot so the anglers would eat them, or feed them to the non roaming creatures like the puddles of void mass or take it with him to the vast water areas, feeding it to Eyefestation.

Tired of carrying so much stuff around (seriously, these expendables bought his whole stash and used nothing), he makes use of his handyman nickname and plops the dead body into the nearest void locker, face scrunching up slightly at the disgusting, wet clicking noises. But he shakes his head, moving on.

Sebastian couldn't be bothered to think about it, his disgust almost always disappears after remembering his interactions with the anglers. The poor things are only violent out of hunger.

He's grown a certain fondness to the experiments, there was somehow a level of understanding. Sure, some of them, like the anglers, are animalistic and hard to understand. Eyefestation is the smartest one; he can actually have a conversation with her. He'd water the DiVine and was given the privilege of laying on the grass— maybe they were scared of him.

Some were unreachable, the Searchlights only made whale calls, but Sebastian was able to replicate them and slither around unbothered. NAVI was fun to annoy, especially with Painter...

God, he doesn't even know where to start. He remembers their first conversation, and slowly gained the AI's trust. It was a comfortable dynamic, maybe it was purely objetive at first, but he's come to love his voice and art, it gave him something to look forward to.

Maybe he wasn't alone after all. Alone in being human, sure, but not in his humanity.

The blacksite has— or, is, an entire ecosystem, Sebastian just so happened to be at the top. He's never don anything against the experiments; they never deserved it. Both in the water and out of it. His body is the product of human cruelty, it's not like half the 'things' here could register him as a human anymore. Those who did were smart enough to know he was safe to be around.

He liked tending to the... He doesn't know what to name them. "Assets" felt... Wrong, animals would be accurate but didn't encapsulate his feelings towards them, creatures made it all sound so strangely bizzare. Critters were accurate. Saying "the others" could mean so many things, it was making his head spin.

Feeding them, watering the plants, helping Painter, playing with the Squiddles, it all makes him feel... Useful. Sure, he was a jerk (ass is a better word) to the expendables, but they were prisoners and told to kill him on sight. And what do you even expect after 0 hours of sleep for a whole 49 hours? It wrecks your brain into what feels like mush. They knew what they signed up for, these creatures did not, they were captured and forced.

What else could he do? It was mind numbing.

Searching for documents, scavenging, ignoring his own needs in favor of more searching. Searching for answers, for an exit.

For anything.

It was better than that stupid metal table.

...

No. Not now.

"Painter," Sebastian mumbled into his walkie talkie, trying to get rid of the growing headache in between his temples, the back of his head, his fins, his—

Well, everything. Everything always hurt, it was never "does it hurt" but rather a "how much." If it didn't impair his functioning, then it didn't matter.

Hearing the walkie talk click, Sebastian mutter into the speaker. "There's a group of expendables down a few doors, I think they'd love one of your gauntlets."

Sebastian knew the answer when he heard Painter chuckle. Recently, the only thing the little robot could do was mess with doors and draw; the expendables always turned off his turrets but Sebastian always came to turn it back on, and to decorate the place with landmines and traps.

He didn't move until he heard those blood curling screams, vividly imagine those faces surely melting into a radioactive goop all thanks to Eyefestion. Gauntlets were easy for the few lot who survived their first one, but a death sentence to those easy to manipulate.

Sebastian had mastered the art of speed and agility, making his way into the large, glass room.

Staring into her eyes, he grins. "Keep at it, the food is yours." He swore Eyefest was smiling back at him, maybe it was the shark DNA that made them able to communicate in a way, he swore he could hear her voice.

She was one smart shark.

Actually a full grown bull shark who gained consciousness and intelligence after all the nasty experiments.

There was a mechanical giggle, Painter was on number screen, his scribbled face a cute, wide smile. "We got them!"

"Sure did, kid." He always had a fondness for working with the AI, he remembers the first time they met with a certain fondness, even if the circumstances were unfavorable. Same with Eyefest.

Life got... Better. With them. With all of them.

Struggling, but alive. Trapped, but the enclosure was bigger. Yeah, that's the word. Enclosure. They're all just freaks to be gawked at.

At least not on...

Shut up.

"I'm going to scavenge some things, you two have fun." Sebastian brought his hands together, smiling like an idiot. He slithered away on the smooth floors, a certain ease that belied everything.

The rest of the day was spent trading with the expendables, and looking at all the new research. As usual, most of it was trash; some about the containment tubes, or desperate attempts at understanding Pandemonium's bowel movements, but occasionally there was a goodie like the chemicals in the serums they'd inject into the animals.

Maybe... They'd get out some day.

If they never did, at least it wasn't so miserable after all.

Chapter Text

Who am I kidding?

We're all gonna die anyway.

Sebastian squirms and pukes into the container, he had been doing this for what felt like forever. He could feel his insides shifting and turning like the cogs of a failing machine. Everything hurt. Fuck, it hurts. It's like relieving the same shit every. Single. Day. Needles pierced his new flesh, it all felt so foreign.

If the body's immune system realizes one of its organs is foreign, whether it was from a transplant or the immune system simply misfired, it would do everything in its power to reject it. Kill the cells, but they had nowhere to go and they were needed. It was painful.

Is that what was happening to his body? Did the flesh recognize itself as foreign as much as his mind did?

Does.

If he ever becomes human again, would it even feel right? He's gotten so used to the little things; his third eye was genuinely useful in the dark, his esca, lure, whatever, was a natural light that didn't bother his eyes, and it saved him from the parasites in the water.

His third arm was good for gestures and holding things, even if it was somehow always injured.

His height was useful, his tail a strong coil, it would genuinely be great if... He had wanted it.

He doesn't. It all reminds him of the person who he was and had subsequently lost, but he couldn't go back. That would feel even more wrong.

Disgusting, he was.

Is.

"Se—Sebastian?!" He could hear the voice through the walkie talkie, echoing in the shop. But it was muffled in his ear-fins, he swore he can still hear the insistent beeping of those machines. On that table. Could see the organs reflected in the mirror.

"I'm fine." He insisted, running a hand through his hair. He blinked eye the wetness in his eyes. He was NOT going to cry. He didn't have the time for it. Doesn't have the energy for it.

He wasn't going to give them power.

They already had so much.

Too much.

Hurt.

"Sebastian, please." It sounded like a plea, Painter was always so scared when this happened. It had gotten less frequent or... Maybe he just stopped noticing. Maybe Sebastian had gotten better at hiding it, he needed the walls to survive but it came at the expense of everything else. Of everyone else.

"You're... Flesh and blood, please take care of yourself."

He wasn't going to fight him, neither of them. They both know it was useless. Sebastian sighed, trying to calm down. When was he breathing so hard? He kept seeing stars.

Gosh, the stars. He missed star gazing.

Had the sky changed when he was gone? The clouds, the water, the grass, his mot—

BLECH!

"Sebastian!" Painter said a little louder, raising his volume and bast boosting his voice as if to imitate a yell. "Please, are you okay?!"

He didn't answer. Couldn't. Sebastian wasn't able to trust his voice. He wasn't doing this. Not again.

Wiping his mouth, he seals with bag. He runs his claws through his scalp, not caring with being careful. What's a few more scars going to do? It'll just heal and fade away.

"I'm throwing out the trash," Sebastian said lowly, finally forcing himself up from the floor. His grip was tight. He ignored how he reeked of death and averted his gaze.

He's slept in his own puke so many times, the pain too much. This is not new for him, and he wasn't grossed out by it anymore. But... It's... It's not real blood, but it definitely looks like it.

"You didn't answer my question," Painter pointed out, but quickly backpedals. He doesn't want Sebastian to shut down even further. He can't push him. "Please... Take care of yourself."

Sighing again, Sebastian nodded to his unseeing friend. "I'll try, kid."

It happens 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

This time, he's able to swallow the bile down, but the walkie talkie, which was impossible to turn off with the way he tweaked it, caught his gag.

Sebastian could hear Painter whirring on the other end, but said nothing.

He needs to get out.

The walls are closing in.

"I'm going out to scavenge," Sebastian said with a certain urgency Painter could understand, they knew each other well enough to catch the micro-expressions and differing tones.

He quickly grabs the trash and slithers out of the vent, he needed an excuse to do something. Anything. He didn't even hear Painter speak, trying to call out his name.

As planned, he burns the product of his latest flare up, episode, 'quirk', in a faraway room and keeps going, but not in any particular direction. He knows which paths to avoid, unless he gets lost in thought and accidentally finds himself in one of the many surgical rooms he's trashed.

He stops by one with a big, cylinder tube inside. He doesn't remember how he was put in there, can't recall what they did to him, but he remembers the coolness of the water and how the glass felt against his webby palm.

He could go for a swim with Eyefestation. Maybe later.

He remembers the pool, the beach. He loved going to the beach as a kid, feeling the sand underneath his feet, the water in his hands and the sun kissing his cheeks. It was one of the many perks about moving to the US. It was a small, run down town, but they lived by the coast. For as Chilean as he was, he doesn't actually remember living in country.

Would he recognize his hometown? Does it still exist?

He feels his heart in his throat, he swallows it down, but it doesn't stop the insistent throb in his neck.

Slithering around, he feels the usual beckoning nearby. It's a calm, soothing voice. Eyefestation was trying to get him to visit her, to have a conversation.

He wouldn't be surprised if she knew what was going on, could feel the dread. But Sebastian rejects the help, pride too big and ego too fragile to bruise.

"Pup,"

"Not now."

Suddenly, she stopped. She wasn't going to push him if Sebastian didn't want to open up. It happens rarely, and only if he's actively breaking down. He refused to give into that.

... Funny how a shark understands consent more than people.

His chest tightens. He shouldn't think about that. Why do his thoughts chase him this way? Wasn't his body enough of a reminder as is?

Another voice pierced through his skull, except it was the speakers and a physical thing. "Sebastian, are you okay?" The little AI had been looking for him nonstop, but Sebastian never slowed down.

"I'm alright, kid." He sounded annoyed by it but found it... Endearing. Painter cared enough to be worried. Eyefest was bothered enough to check in. It's...

He's burdensome.

"Are you sure? You... You flared up twice today, you need to rest..."

Sebastian looks at the flickering screen, he usually enjoyed seeing Painter take over the numbers. "Kid, please. I'll... Take a shower and... Go sleep after this, would that make you feel better?"

Of course it was to make Painter feel better, it wasn't for himself.

"Well, yeah." He wasn't going to beg Sebastian, this was a huge win for him and not something that happened often. The screen flickers back to normal, and Sebastian has no choice but to keep going.

Eventually, he stops by the bathrooms, one of many. It didn't matter if he picked one over the other, he just used the less filthy one. It's not like the expendables concerned themselves with hygiene in such a place, they died before the thought even occurred to them.

It was always a gamble, but he made sure to avoid his reflection. In and out, he didn't even take of his clothes; the bare flesh was enough to make him repulsed all over again.

He knew the layout of his scars, he doesn't want to see them yet they're etched into his mind, burned as deeply as the neurons firing in his brain.

The water dripped down his flaky, pale scales. They used to shine, at least to his third eye, now they're a single color and pale. It's funny how strong he is considering how he's just bone.

Stop looking.

He's seen himself so many times before, accepted it, so why does it still hurt?

It's whatever, he lets himself air dry and avoids the dreaded mirror, making his way back to his shop and heading off to sleep.

He didn't unlock the vent that day, he didn't feel like trading.

Chapter Text

Ever since Sebastian gained a higher rank, he was expected to work. It was better than that dingy cell, but not by a lot.

Back then, the doctor's needles would pierce his skin. Now, the expendables's stares pierced through his psyche.

He was a monster, and there was no undoing it. At the very least he could occupy his own hands, it was one of the only ways he could distract himself from the onslaught of chronic pain in his muscles and the racing thoughts in his brain.

Was it even slavery if he got paid?

He supposed it was if he didn't have the choice, it's not like the wage was liveable in the first place.

He spent at least a half hour stretching the knots in his several studs long back. He had spent the entire day fixing an underwater vent system, Sebastian was the best one for the job; he might not have muscles but he is strong, enduring. He's the only expendable with gills, and is 3/4ths from finishing his engineering degree. 

Was. It was even a scholarship, he could've graduated with summa cum laude, the best of the class, he—

Sebastian got interrupted from his spiraling when the door abruptly opened, he was met with one of the many technicians he had grown to be okay with.

"Hey, Handyman." The young man strained his neck to look up at him. Sebastian naturally returned the gesture, slouching down for mutual comfort (except his back's).

"There is a technical problem with the computer." The dude began, naturally giving Sebastian more details as he led the mutant into one of the many server rooms. "It keeps trying to fry itself, something about crypto. I'm being left in the dark," he groaned. "I can't even get the systems to work."

Sebastian said nothing, his arms crossed as he slithers across the smooth floors. Having dealt with the hardest jobs ever, a simple computer was somehow a rest and a joke. "I'm sorry, it?" 

"Yeah, man! It seems almost... Conscious or something, it's so weird." He stops by the door, letting Sebastian go inside. "I got another job to do, I'll see you around." 

Taking a deep breath, he rubs his temples. It seemed like an easy job, too easy, actually. Were the doctors trying to check his dexterity? I swear, if this is another test—

"I..." There was a small whirring noise, it was overloading itself with several tabs all at once.

The computer was big, an old 1980's model left on a sturdy table. Bulky. Instead of a keyboard, it had a drawing tablet. Curiously, there was still a mouse.

"Yeah right, alive." Sebastian said to no one but himself. Calmly, he grabs the mouse and starts shutting the tabs one by one.

Until suddenly, the AI protested by adding 7 more.

"What?" He was puzzled, and this kept going until he hit the table from anger. Taking a deep breath in, he runs his claws through his hair. "What kind of virus is this?!" 

Fruitlessly, this kept going until Sebastian caved in. "What the hell?!" He slams the table, taking a deep, deep breath.

Out of nowhere, Sebastian's lit up with an idea. He reaches out to unplug the computer, and then plug it back in. 'Turn off and back on' was his mamá's motto growing up.

Doing this, the screen slowly turns out and immediately flicks to Ms Paint. There was a series of drawn faces, and then a... Voice.

"They have me mining roblux," it said sadly, making a whirring noise in discomfort. This caught Sebastian by surprise, he curls his tail and sits on it like a chair.

"Is... That what this is about?" It's painfully obvious he didn't understand, he wasn't being forced to endure a robots version of Chinese water torture.

The AI's face contorts in what seems like pain, "you don't understand! It's so... Boring. Every day, roblux mining. Every night. Every hour."

The handyman seemed puzzled, he couldn't help but be fascinated by watching its code work around everything, it's so... Human. It kept complaining, "they always close my art tabs! I can't draw. I can't— I can't even draw my creator!" 

Sebastian lifts an eyebrow, this prompts the computer to keep going. "I don't remember what he looks like! I just want to paint, they tell me I can go back to the surface if I do a good job! But they... It's never enough."

Suddenly, it tried to overclock itself a second time, and the whole situation repeated as Sebastian quickly closed all the tabs, minus the art ones. "Oh no you don't!"

Quiet.

It's so... Quiet.

Suddenly, the machine just gives him a frown, it didn't even bother to draw its expressions, only giving a :(

"Hey, uhm..." 

Catching Sebastian's doubt, he perked up a little bit. "I'm p. AI. nter." 

Sebastian lost himself in thought, it was honestly overwhelming. A sentient, self sufficient AI. Honestly the little thing took it as a badge of honor. Of course it was proud, it's not everyday you see a self sufficient, self aware AI that makes art out of all things.

"Is that a pun?" He teased, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. It gained a smile from Painter, and while the whiplash threw Sebastian off, he appreciated its attitude. "Sure is!" 

"So, Painter?" He chuckled, as if clarifying its name. "Stay out of trouble, I can't have you frying your systems again." He put everything back, ready to slither away.

"What's your name?" Painter asked, and only then did he realize he never gave it. "I'm Sebastian, handyman, expendable, whatever." Anything but Z-13.

"Sebastian, do you really think..." It trailed off, and the handyman patiently waited. "They'll take me to the surface once I'm done?" 

Sebastian winces. He couldn't tell it. It seemed so pure. He didn't have the heart to.

"I'm sure they will." 

There was a moment of silence as he opened the door, the P. AI. nter couldn't help but mumble lowly. "Will you come back?" 

It made Sebastian pause by the door, out of everything, he didn't expect such a question. He gives Painter one last smile, "sure will, kid."

That day, an "it" became a"he."

Funny how things ended up after that. 

He woke up from his nap... Had it actually been a nap, or was he just that lost in thought?

His body felt like lead, lifting his hands— any of them, felt like lifting a thousand pounds. Sebastian blinked it away, he had expendables to trade with and a garden to water.

"Hey, kid." He yawned the grogginess out of his voice, jaw expanding and clicking, then his spine followed suit. It sounded like a chiropractor's office, maybe some two follower metal band would sample it. 

Oh how he misses music.

He was that two follower metal band, had a small one with his friends back in highschool before they graduated.

He was the lead singer and guitarist, his fingers flying over the strings with a fevor and practiced ease. He finally remembers how they were planning to record a song the weekend before... 

That happened.

"Yes, Sebastian?" Painter asked back, happy to chime in. The computer had been drawing, frequently using Sebastian's voice was background noise. The AI would adore watching random video essays in the background, but had yet to be introduced to such an art form.

"You asked me if I could play something for you when we reach the surface," he clasped his hands together, gaze falling to the metal guitar. 

Painter stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. He was like a little kid, watching his older brother patiently. 

"I... I don't think my hands are capable of strumming, but," he felt himself closing up again. He shouldn't have said anything. He—

"I'd love you to," the robot said it so easily, patient. It's surprising how giving someone space makes them get closer.

Sebastian grabbed the guitar and chuckled, claws reaching out to feel the smooth, metal surface.

Painter giggled, and he raised a brow. "What is it, kid?"

"Another gauntlet, I'm making it extra long for those expendables." He sounded proud of himself, then angry. Those filthy humans. 

A smug grin took him by surprise, he couldn't help but smile with his teeth. "Kid, use the speakers."

The entire facility was playing his lyricless music, the expendables faces's were melting all while hearing the sickest music of their lifetime.

It didn't last long, and Sebastian didn't have the throat to sing anymore. But... He enjoyed it.

"We should do that again," he set the guitar down, and Painter made a whirring noise in content. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian dragged himself through the facility. Sometimes, it felt like this was all he could do.

He can't even reach the surface if he so wanted to.

The guilt... Was mortifying. He only promised Painter directly. He was like his little brother, he couldn't leave without him.

Without his family.

Eyefest was another one. He never promised her directly though, and she seemed to be here on her own accord. Surely a radioactive, intelligent shark deemed as violently aggressive could leave the ocean surrounding the place and go back to the surface, right?

Well, could she?

I don't think she can.

He grumbles as he searches through the cabinets. There was so much to look through yet so little to find. He has to get all the food and ration it before the anglers eat it all. They cause such a ruckus it gives him a headache, it sounds like a pandemonium in here.

He wonders what that's about.

Sliding down the stairs, he stares at the medical equipment, bending the metal like a stress ball.

He could hear her.

Beckoning.

Instead of dealing with it head on, he gave into the tiredness. Painter had already told him off (worriedly begged) for him to be lazy (take care of himself).

It's not like there was any comfortable spot in the facility, so he curled up on the floor, but not before throwing the table into that thing.

He'll never lay on that thing again.

He always knew about the shark, the echoes of mangled screams were loud enough to hear from his dingy cell. Whether that cell was from the time he was being experimented on, or when he was working what felt like entertaining slave labor, was a different thing.

When he was causing the lockdown, releasing it was a no brainer, that Z-317, Eyefest, Eyefestation thing had to be one of the first subjects The Saboteur had to set free; what was scarier than an angry shark who gained consciousness and intelligence as a product of the violence it suffered at the hands of their shared captors, melting their faces into radioactive goop, an ability it gained strictly because of them?

Hard to answer.

Was the intelligence only a side effect? No one in their right mind did anything about it, the scientist had deemed it a liability. Sebastian couldn't be assed to figure out the original plan. If not for his own body, much less for anything else.

What he had never expected, though, was to be staring at the magnificent creature from across the glass.

It felt like someone was digging in his mind, yet it was not intrusive. Normal. Safe, even.

"You do not melt." 

It was not a question, rather a statement.

Sebastian had to blink and reassess the situation, staring at one of the many papers in his hand. He could barely remember what he was looking for, too entranced by the morbid curiosity.

Before he could say anything, he felt a wave of peace. It's as if he could feel her feelings, but it was more than just empathy. Did the shark DNA have anything to do with it? He can barely think.

"Thank you, mijo." 

Somehow, that name managed to snap him out of it.

"I'm not your mijo," he was a grown man, he was his mamá's mijo, not hers. He might've been innocent when first arriving but now he definitely had more blood than a measly 9 people. He was the saboteur. He ruined his own life stepping into that one shop and now the lives of the scientists...

They deserved it anyway. 

"You free me, now I swim. Humans... Are so cruel." 

Sebastian could feel it staring at him, into him, and through him. Words could not express how uncomfortable it is for someone who has spent his life remaining unseen. 

"What did they do to you?" It sounded so sad, upset, like a mother kissing her child's wound. 

Like his...

"Shhh, mijo." It repeated, not understanding what the word fully meant, but somehow understanding the weight it held for him. "We'll be free, swimming in the ocean." 

Sebastian sniffled, desperately trying to rub the water from his eyes. He wouldn't cry. But... 

Fuck. He missed his mom.

Was it trying to kill him? Manipulating him to stare into its eyes by luring him with his mami's voice?

"How are you so sure?" He felt stupid, relying on an experimented shark for comfort, but where else could he go? The anglers were too animalistic, and Painter was an AI he didn't want to worry, he couldn't have the poor machine over fry his own systems on purpose because of him.

"Because we are strong, you are my brethren." Eyefest reassured him, giving him a metaphorical pat on the head. It swam around, its sharp, toothy smile somehow looking warm behind the glass.

In that moment, he straightened himself up. With a renowned sense of determination, he smiles at her. Genuinely smiles. "Thank you..." 

He trailed off, unsure of what to call her. 

"The humans called me Eyefest." 

He hesitated. Ironically, that's the paper he had been clinging onto, as if he manifested her or something.

"Well, I won't" He cleared his throat, it sounded so... Disgusting. An insult. Eyefestation didn't understand what was bad about it, and he wasn't going to burst her bubble by telling her. "I'm not calling you that, how about..." 

His mind raced with a certain emptiness, none of the names fit her. Sebastian wasn't going to name her after anybody he was close with. 

"Betty-lou?" He suggested, and the shark might've not understood the meaning, but the idea of getting her own, normal name made her smile. Her many eyes beamed, the star pupils sparkly.

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Betty."

And with that, Sebastian slithered around the facility. He never denied her a conversation, always answering the best he could. He found it funny. Endearing, even.

Apparently they had fish in the water, maybe they could go hunting together. It's not like he lacks gills, and Eve could use the enrichment. 

That day, an "it" became a "she"

Sebastian didn't snap out of his thoughts until he heard Betty's voice beckoning more and more. Insistent. Stubborn. Worried. 

He sighed deeply, turning around and leaving the place in shambles. The door laid emptily on the floor, the metal table encrusted into the tube, the water leaked all over the floor.

When did he do that?

Taking a moment to gather his bearings for what felt like the umpteenth time, Sebastian leaves the room without looking back.

He couldn't go back without going through the glass rooms—

He could, but it's a longer way and not worth it. He has no choice but to stare into her eyes, it's not like Sebastian could hide behind a poker face, she was able to read minds. That's what allows her to lure people in.

A predator stalks and waits before biting.

But she wasn't any of that, she was the closest thing to a mother figure this place has. The squiddles like her and the anglers respect her enough to not make a fuss.

"Sebastian?" 

He tried to ignore her voice, to pull away. She never forced him, but it was a small nudge.

"I don't want to talk about it." He grimaced, jaw clenched and fists to his sides. The delicate paper in his hand started to rip, but he stopped himself.

Evidence had to be protected.

"I do not understand," she swam around, following him through the rooms. 

He licks his awfully dry lips, massaging his neck in an attempt to ease his throat. "I don't think I want you to." 

Betty gave him a quick, uncoordinated blink. Her eyes are usually peeled, so it somehow unsettled him.

He just wanted some normalcy.

"It's... Hard." It was all he managed to say, the words died before they could even reach his throat, his tongue a graveyard for unsaid regrets and unmet promises. "How are you okay with... What they did?" 

There was a silence. 

Then a beat. 

"Because I am free," she knew it wasn't helpful, but it was the truth. Her truth. 

"But you're still stuck here!" 

"Willingly so, there is no other place for me." Her reasoning was simple. "A pack leaves no one behind."

... 

Why was he crying.

"What do you do to me?" It wasn't an accusation, the words just rolled off his lips. He wasn't a crier, hated feeling the tears stick to his skin. Hated being soft. 

Softness got him nowhere. 

Monsters don't have hearts.

Shouldn't, at least. 

"It's okay, mijo." 

Chapter Text

The noise grates greets his ears, the last thing Sebastian wanted was to keep hearing all the ruckus; entire lockers being knocked over, scratching the metal doors like nails on chalkboard, breaking glass, everything. Why can't he just rip his fins in order to mute the world?!

But none of that cacophony sounded as bad as that one, specific screech echoes throughout the entire facility, sending a wave of pain and slamming it over his whole head like lava.

Okay, if that thing doesn't make his eardrums explode first.

Sebastian didn't have a particular place to stay yet, setting a shop wasn't on his radar. It was a fleeing thought he occasionally indulged in, trading goods with useful research. He knew it was a good business model, commiting was the issue.

Would it even be worth it? Expendables were a... Finite source, not even a company like Urbanshade could send half the world in here to do their bidding.

There had only been a total of four groups, and that was months ago. They probably closed the project.

Good. Screw the stupid crystal. They're never getting their blood stained hands on it, not if he had anything to do with it. 

At least Painter and Eyefest had fun with their gauntlets, heck, even Sebastian did. It gave him an excuse to play some music. But knowing Painter, Sebastian would probably start playing again.

They'll do more next time.

The noise was grating and did. Not. Stop. The small respite in his thoughts was not enough. He could barely think.

"Pinkie!" He yeller, knowing that stupid angler wouldn't answer, all she did was run around the facility and scream.

"So, YOU'RE the reason I have a headache." Sebastian muttered angrily, picking up the angler, the mutated fish squirmed around his firm grip.

A flash of light blinded him, a sudden breeze making his half hearted hair bun fall, his filthy hair glued to his face. He nearly topples over, hand extended and claws ready to grab. "Get back here!"

Of course, the lightning bolt of a fish didn't listen. Sebastian uselessly ran after it, needing to take a moment to breathe.

Luckily, it eventually ran out of energy, lazily letting Sebastian pick it up with his claws. After moving it around in his hands and raising a brow, he mutters. "For a variant, you don't look like your brother." 

Somehow, Z-283 Angler, who was still held safely in his other hand, let out a small noise. Sebastian could've sworn it had smiled, letting out a laugh in the light of his assessment.

Almost as abrupt as their arrival, the two started biting his hands. The man hardly reacted, the teeth barely left a dent in the soft scales.

"We're all hungry." He grimaced, seriously considering eating these two alive, if only they weren't as malnourished as he was.

Plus, they were good guard dogs. Or fish. Whatever.

He can't feed them off what he eats, it wouldn't last at all. And for some reason, they didn't go into the vast ocean to feed.

Eyefest was the culprit, of course. She'd rightfully swallow them in one go.

He tried to drop Angler and Blitz but they clung onto his scales with their teeth. Great.

Sebastian felt his already cold blooded body go cold. He can't do it. Wouldn't.

The idea of feeding them dead bodies was... Unnerving.

His stomach was already churning, the taste of bile settling in his mouth.

While he knows he can survive off of scraps, imposing that same standard on experimented animals was cruel. He's capable of complex thought, these critters aren't. Can't.

He can work around things, or just starve himself instead. But what he needs to survive would be abuse to them. 

So, would it be wrong if they did it? 

Logically, it's the best choice. What other option did he have? The anglers were hungry, and the bodies were rotting. It's not like Sebastian could give them a proper burial, and letting them decompose in the air or even the water, was disgusting.

He can't bring himself to see it.

Slithering over with the now well behaved fish in hand, he blinked once. Then twice. He sniffed the air, trying to figure out what was wrong. The new scent was strong, heavy.

Cursing under his breath, the air was suffocating. He lets blitz and angler drop to the floor, they scurried away.

The air was thick, too thick. It lodged into in his throat and refused to meet his lungs, no matter how much air he sucked in.

It was a bad decision, it forced the thick smoke into his chest, he had to heave to get it out, and it just kept going.

Toppling over, Sebastian's claws meet the harsh floors, leaving indents. His droopy gaze falls on the culprit. He can hear wet flapping.

"Wh—what the—"

He chokes harder, was he going to pass out?

He squints his eyes, finally able to make out a wet blob from the green smoke.

You're even uglier in person.

He didn't say that out loud, but he swore the deformed fish deflated, puffing out and worsening the air with its smoke green smoke. It didn't seem intentional, but rather an undesired side effect to whatever they did to it. 

It took a few minutes before the bastard calm down, letting Sebastian collect himself. Thankfully he didn't get hypoxic, he didn't go through all of that just to die on the spot, not because of a small, tantrum throwing Chainsmoker.

Eventually, he coils on his tail and started to slowly inch away, not wanting to deal with them. It's not like Sebastian hated them— hell, Eyefest can say they're brethren all she wants but if anything, the realization that THESE probably share more DNA with HIM than he does with her is...

He shudders.

Not now.

Sebastian's ear-fins flick as the insistent banging on the door raged on, it sounded like teeth embedding itself into the metal door, a sound he has an embarrassing experience with.

Opening the door without much thought, this orange blob circles around him over and over again, running in in the same place and jumping over his tail

Sebastian bends over and struggles to reach it, basically grabbing at the air for an entire minute before finally grabbing the fish and lifting it up. 

"Ah, you." Sebastian didn't remember the name, but it was... No, it's not pink. It's Froger. Frogger?

He keeps it in his hands and slithered away and down the hall, the other three follow him, and he forgets Angler was even there. 

Taking a deep breath, he stops by the nearly decomposes bodies and lets all of them go wild.

'Ferocious beast', he can't believe these things kill. They all look like hyperactive children to him, small and defenseless.

He crossed his arms and looked at them all with a certain... Fondness. They weren't as bad as he thought, he could probably manage.

OW!

Loud.

It's so LOUD.

He looks down and is greeted the small lady herself, choosing to say nothing, already exhausted. "I can't believe there's FIVE of you." He picked Pinkie up and threw her towards the body, the little thing latched on and started devouring like the rest of them.

He rubs his temples and gets out, they all started screaming like crazy. It would be fascinating if it wasn't so painful.

"PINKIE!" He screamed again, it was getting louder. Can fish get sick? It sounded deeper and harsher than usual. He wouldn't necessarily get worried, it was self preservation at its best.

If they can get sick, he could too.

Sebastian is forced out of his thoughts when he hears that wet flapping, then a putrid smell hitting his nose. Was Chainsmoker nearby? Did Froger rip off an arm and carried it around like a dog toy?

Hesitantly, Sebastian leaves his pile of research in a safe space no one should be interfering with, ready to deal with the load of angry fishes waiting outside.

But they weren't here.

Confusion hits him like a wave and it forces Sebastian to look around, and then, he sees IT.

"What the...?" It felt anticlimactic, he rubs his temples. He's tired, hungry, thirsty ready to dunk his head into a bowl, and angry.

He could hear the slamming of nearby doors, and he felt the pressure build up in his head.

There's a sudden wetness on his lower scales, he reaches out to yank it, but it moves. It feels like goop falling in-between his fingers, it slips from his grip and plops to the floor with a single, wet thud.

"What in the..." He asked a second time, the little creature looked at Sebastian with its wide mouth, it was huge and heartier than the other anglers, this was no ordinary fish.

It feels like an aquarium in here.

The creature lets out a loud, happy noise that could only be described as a stomach churning. The dissonance was giving him a worser headache than the noise.

Uppie! Uppie!

Nevermind. Sebastian se swore he could hear it scream into his hair with those exact same words. Not wanting to hear it anymore, he does what it wants. "Okay, okay." He groaned, lifting the blob with ease. "What the heck are you?"

Suddenly, it's like Sebastian had answered his own question. It's Z-367. Pandemonium. The beast itself. Did this thing seriously kill half the expendables that came across it? It seemed like a dirty, hungry dog.

He had to remind himskeythat Pandemonium was also a word and it was given to this experiment for a reason. The decaying mass of flesh takes its name with a badge of honor, causing a ruckus wherever it goes. It gives him a screech and Sebastian can intuitively tell it's happy.

It was... Actually kind of cute.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Painter appeared on a screen, his usual scribbled smile contorting into a face of disgust. "What happened to angler?"

"It's Pandemonium," he said calmly, feeling the decaying meat shift under his fingers. If Pande didn't smell that bad, he wouldn't mind all the noise.

Painter gives a curious look, "I thought that thing was dead? You told me it showed no signs of life, according to the file anyway." 

He forgot he did that, "well it seems pretty alive to me. Where was it anyway?" 

"I don't know, it usually hangs around door 30," Sebastian gave Painter a curious hum. " Is it was violent as they say it is? Pande looks pretty calm to me."

"It bashed against the lockers and ate them." 

Hmm. Now all the files dedicated to trying to understand Pandemonium's bowel movements make sense.

"That was pretty blunt, is my sarcasm rubbing off you?" He twirled his hair, chuckling before Painter could answer.

"What? Noooo." 

Sebastian gives Pande one last pet, giving it a smile it wouldn't really understand. 

...

"Good girl."

Chapter Text

Absolutely everything in this facility was aquatic. From the anglers, to the Squiddles, to Eyefestation, and to Sebastian himself. The only exception was Painter, but he was stolen from the surface, not the depths of the ocean.

Most of these creatures don't need drinking water to begin with; fish don't get thirsty, as far as he's aware anyway.

Thirst was a mental need he could either absolve by ignoring or dunking his head, up to his neck, in water, and then breathing through his gills. 

In the mouth, out the gills.

But of course, the gardens existed for the humans. It's not like he doesn't benefit from it, Sebastian needs it in order to move around. It's the only way the expendables were able to roam around freely. It's the only way he can breathe on land.

Mentally preparing himself, he slithers into the dark, vast oxygen gardens. Coming in was always a hassle; it was far away and the bridge was unsteady under his hearty weight; he'd usually only come in if he needed to search for documents or if it was a shortcut to get elsewhere.

He only started to water the plants from the sheer boredom he experienced. It felt like a cruel mimic of normalcy.

In order to water the plants, he'd take water from the vast ocean surrounding the facility and then carefully make it drinkable through some process he liked to call "bla bla bla." He didn't care about the specifics and honestly didn't need to. 

Well, "absolutely everything" is both hyperbolic and an overstatement. The DiVine were land-dwelling, but he usually forgot about them. He's not able to step on the grass, it's too much like the home he'll never go back to. They'll just try to beat him up.

The first time he stumbled in here had given him an absolute heart attack, being completely unaware of their nature and not finding their document until after getting jumped by an army. He had sent them all flying with a slap of his tail, but the things, just like humans, were annoyingly persistent.

It had been... An experience.

Ever since their first encounter, he'd come here sparingly. There was never a set schedule, just when he felt like it or had enough water to actually do something about it. He couldn't use the vast ocean surrounding them whenever Sebastian felt like it, no thanks to the dreaded salt.

He didn't even know if they were conscious, yet he still made an effort to keep them alive. Maybe it was purely symbiotic: the water keeps them alive, and they return the favor by making oxygen. 

The routine was simple: come in, water them, and leave. He slowly saw the humanoid figures growing greener and livelier, the ends of their bodies no longer chipped and dry like moss on the sidewalk but rather the soft rustling of leaves on a healthy tree.

They were so cracked and dry, there was nothing noteworthy to remember about them.

He chuckled to himself, recalling simpler times and letting himself indulge in his thoughts for once. 

"Hey, look at me!" He called out, getting his younger brother to come back from the park, the little boy curiously peeked over and got splashed in the face. Water was his weakness, and the hose in Sebastian's hand was his greatest weapon.

"Mijo, stop that doing that!" He jumped, hearing his mama scolding him with her usually soft voice, now bitter and loud. She had been sitting by the porch, playing a game on her phone. She had been so quiet, he almost forgot she was there. "You're going to get your brother sick!" 

He voice rang like a song in his ears. Sebastian was usually a good kid... Never at home, though. He loved pranking his siblings and causing trouble.

"But he was annoying me!" He retorted, a bad lie. His brother had already grabbed the hose and pointed it at Sebastian, now they're both soaking wet like the dogs on the street.

"Sebastián..." She started, and he promptly zoned out to avoid the boring lectures that could be summarized as "be respectful" and "under my roof."

Looking back, he'd do it all over again. No regrets.

But nostalgia in such a place was a fickle thing, a sob bubbled up in his throat, and he had no choice but to swallow it down. He misses the warmth of the sun, the star's rays cascading on the sidewalk and kissing his skin with its light. The grass underneath his sandaled feet, the melody of his mama's humming, the sound of his brother's laughter, and the face of his sister's disapproval.

Thinking was a dangerous thing, it felt addicting. There was nothing else to do, thoughts of better days racked his mind, a pitiful reminder of the life he had lost and would never get back

He just wants to mow the land, just look at the stars, and pluck the flowers to give to his mom.

Except, he can't. Instead of the lawn, it was experiment subjects. And instead of grass, it was whatever the DiVine are. 

Guess Urbanshade really just can't stick to the ocean, can they? They just had to experiment on plants, too. Had they ever felt the warmth of the sun? And did do they miss it, too?

He was taken out of his growingly pessimistic thoughts as a small plant held something in their hand, a small gift clearly meant for him. Maybe they really were sentient after all.

Lowering the now empty watering can to the floor, he slouches down and reaches for it, taking the gift gently in his monstrous hands. He looked at it, how it shimmered in his eyes.

It was fruit.

It might've been poisonous; it might've not been, but he ate it anyway in two bites. It was red and juicy, the liquid dripping down his mouth as he sucked it in with his teeth.

He didn't recognize it. For all he knew, these plants could've grown something entirely unique to them or even his favorite fruit. It could've been a real fruit he just hadn't heard about, he'll never know. After only eating expired scraps, this was a blessing.

Sebastian took a step back as he felt the small DiVine wiping at his tears. Surely it was in its best interest, tears are water.

Was it only that? He couldn't tell.

Either way, he cut it out. Maybe it wasn't so bad, though, it's not like they can snitch him out or say anything about it. Mouthless, voiceless, but he swore he could hear clicking noises and branches. Maybe he was hallucinating a language.

Even back in his human days, watering the plants, he never truly appreciated nature for what it was. His care consisted of household chores he did to not get scolded, that or boredom. This was because of boredom, too. He could never wrap his head around the fact people would talk to their plants as if they were babies.

His mama would do that a lot. She insisted it helped them grow— and that growth happens most when you feel loved.

She was right, mama is always right. 

The DiVine were protective of their space, it was rightfully theirs. They're surprisingly strong, an army in numbers. The expendables do what they always do and intrude, stumbling on the grass only to be left as compost for the grass.  A trophy.

Yet... they were never violent with him. Always understanding. Lots of second-guessing. It would be so much easier if he could communicate with them.

Given their history— he was taken aback when at least ten of these started dragging him towards the tree.

Maybe it's because he's put it out before? It somehow always sets on fire.

Sebastian sighs and slithers on the grass, feeling it all over his scales. It's always the smallest things that make him break.

He climbs up the tree, wrapping his thick tail around the trunk like the snakes he used to watch on the TV. It feels strange that he was taking inspiration from them, but with his body, he might as well.

Seeing the creatures grow faster and thrive under his care was not something he tended to think about, his mind usually full of painful memories and a grief he can never truly mourn. There had barely been any air, and now the entire facility had enough oxygen to actually breathe in, it's genuinely nice. 

And it was thanks to him.

Maybe that's why they called him the handyman

He doesn't even mind when the plant-like children start crawling on his tail again. Sebastian doesn't even notice himself drifting off.

He should do this more often.

Chapter Text

It was so dark. 

Half the facility would be doused in bright lights, the other half was engulfed by darkness. The back up generator was usually busted, so only the emergency bulbs in the room would glow.

His lure was useful. He'd have to get over the fact it's on his head, something he controls and feels. Body horror aside, it's essentially a built-in flashlight and he can choose how bright or dim he wants it to be.

But it's not always needed, his eyes have been adapted for low light levels anyway. 

"Light! Bad!"

He 'turned' the light off, slouching down to see one of the squiddles, he could feel the rest of them curiously playing on their tail.

"Hey, squid." Sebastian made no effort to give each a different name— he tried in the past and was fruitless. The critters might've been intelligent but didn't bother with such a human invention, communicating to each other with faces and the occasional clicking noises Sebastian could never hope to understand.

"I won! I won!" It hands him an inky file, it was still legible and seemed important. He took it and placed it in one of his many pouches. "Thank you, kid." 

The other squiddles started screeching in jealously, crawling over him. "We want pets too!"

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckled, using his three hands to gently squeeze their head and shake them around. They all had a very loose definition of petting.

"Hey, don't touch that!" He tried shaking them off his tail; many fell, the stubborn ones just giggled with a childish glee so big, he didn't have the heart to get angry.

Painter would've enjoyed this, the Squiddles like to occasionally decorate the facility with their ink, creating random splotches that could be seen as abstract art.

They also enjoyed blinding people in the face with it or screaming at them whenever they were being blinded by light. Their mouths can't pierce Sebastians skin, but they do hurt the expendables for sure.

"How about you..." He paused, trying to catch their attention. They stop playing with his pouches and listening intently. "Get me jars?" He shows them one of the many DNA capsules. Bright and shiny. Colorful.

Strangely pretty.

Some of them were already jumping in place, waiting for their reward, or what it would be if they won. "Whoever gets the most... I'll give paper to. Or pats."

Almost as quickly as they came, the squiddles go running around the dark areas of the facility, creating havoc. Sebastian lets out a low chuckle at the chaos, finding them strangely endearing. He never had to win them over, and after spending so much time in the blinding light itself, seeing the Squiddles again was nice.

"What are you?" Sebastian had hidden away in his small cell, his body far too big for the corner he has been once again forced into.

Maybe if he hides away, they'll stop torturing him.

He has been so hungry, are they trying to tease him with live bait? Snakes were predatory and would only eat fresh meat, do the doctors expect him to swallow them in one single gulp?

The creatures in the inky darkness were all laughing. Giggling like little kids playing football on the street. There's at least three of them, he can tell.

Sebastian turns his lure on, the light was weak and pulsed with his heart, he still hasn't learned how to keep it steady, it felt like handling a dying flashlight.

"Bad! Hurt! Turn off!" 

The ink children screamed, and the screeching hurt his ears. He welcomes the darkness, they seemed to understand. So, he turns it off, relying on his enhanced vision to see them. Squinting, but he still sees.

"Sorry! Sorry, I couldn't see." He apologized, flinching as he felt several tentacles wrap around his tail it's like hugging a tree covering him with ink. Confused, he uncurls from the coils of his own tail and looks at them with a sense of wonder. These were animals, how did he understand literal animals?

He knew octopuses were already smart, doing tricks for their caretakers, often squeezing out of their tanks and sliding around the floors. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if they had always been this smart or if the experiments allowed him to talk with animals.

It would be a dream come true, if the price hadn't been this.

Oblivious to his misery, the Squiddles started to play with his hair and esca, finding it beyond fascinating. Uncomfortable, he turns it on for a few seconds so they'd stop touching him. "It hurts, don't touch that."

The pain was still fresh, even after all this time. It was a part of his head, it moved with his skin, tugging at the marred flesh.

Understanding barely, they slid up and down his back.

"Play! Play! We want to play!" 

Sebastian thinks for a moment. There wasn't anything they can play with  (aside from his body), and he doesn't have the energy to move around like they did.

He... Hated using people, but these aren't people...

Right?

"I have an idea," he said, straightening his back and leaning against the wall. The squiddles impatiently huddled around him and his lap, one of them got comfortable and the other two were jumping up and down.

"Idea? Idea?! Play play play!" 

Their voices collided with each other, it's a miracle he can tell who is who. The fact he can understand them at all.

Is he hallucinating?

"Pinch me first," they offered his arm, and a squiddle squeezed it with one of its tentacles.

Nope. Very real.

"Okay, so... There are lots of treasures." He clasps his hands together, slouching a bit in order to look at them, watching their faces contort in delight.

"Whoever can get me any, I will... Hmm." He couldn't figure something out, to give them an incentive, or even something to ask for specifically. "Have you seen those blue squares?"

One of the squiddles flashes the white image of a keycard on its face, Sebastian nods. "Yes, exactly."

"Game fun! Prize?"

Sebastian hums to himself, reaching out to pet them on the head. "I'll play with you."

They weren't listening, enjoying the sensation. The other two squiddles started fighting for his attention, luckily Sebastian has three hands. 

"What this? This nice! This fun!" 

"No! Mine mine mine!" 

He cuts them off, "I can pat you three! It's okay, whoever wins, gets the most pats."

In the blink of an eye, the three scurried away, leaving him alone in the darkness of his cell. Sebastian had had fun, almost forgetting where he was standing. Almost.

It seems like he can finally sleep, though.

... 

Huh? 

"I win! I win!" One of squiddles said, holding the keycard, another one pushed its sibling aside and held a keycard as well. "Okay, you both win. Good job, kid." 

He pets them both, then a few empty handed Squiddles came. He lost count, and delighted himself in hearing their giggles and petting their heads. 

The fun stopped as a scientist opened the door containing his cell, turning the light on. The Squiddles hid in the shadows and left through the vents, nobody noticed them.

He neatly organized all the new folders he has collected into his pockets, Urbanshade never rested but both Painter's and Eyefest's insistence was starting to annoy him. He doesn't have the heart to lie to Painter and Eyefest can read his mind, Sebastian can't escape it.

He was searching for a place to stay, most of the rooms weren't safe enough because of the anglers, so he picked a vent halfway through the facility and stuck with it, dumping all his research and valuables in there.

Going through his second pile, a familiar tentacle latches itself onto his arm, his third one. It's the easiest to reach.

"Seb! Seb man, we won! Look! Lookie!" 

Sebastian looks at the overexcited children, taking the documents. Some of these were golden, and the Squiddles had even handed him some goodies they didn't need.

"We all won! See? See? We good! We do good!"

He lets out a low chuckle, picking up the bunch and curling his tail around them. Tight enough to be comforting

but loose enough for them to leave if they ever wanted to.

Maybe his friends had a point, a few hours of sleep sounded good.

Chapter Text

Sebastian was paying his usual visit to Painter; the two couldn't talk when Sebastian was busy in his space or in areas far from hallway doors with the displays. 

Admittedly, Painter had gotten... Lonely. He was essentially programmed to be friendly and to paint. His art had gotten "lower quality" as of late, uninspired to find even a spark of life in these solemn, muted walls.

Would it even work? Would they actually get out? Escape? What if Sebastian just saw him as a tool, just like Urbanshade did?

His circuits were already frying.

Nothing here was his choice. Drawing was his passion, but it was a spark long gone, and he has been programmed to like it. Everything he did was for survival or somebody else's approval.

This... Was his choice. The only real choice he had—wouldn't this prove he has free will and is more than a mere machine?

It hurt. It hurt so much. Overloading his systems with sites and websites his circuitry could never dream of handling.

And then, it went dark.

...

He woke up again.

"Kid!" Sebastian was leaning over his monitor, arms wrapped around the metal box and tails around the table. "Don't do that again! You scared me." 

"... I'm sorry." 

Guilt settled in their stomach, and Sebastian just felt horrible. "I... I brought some blank paper, I wanted to draw with you."

A scribble took over Painter's display screen, he was always better with lines rather than words.

Silence.

"Painter, it's okay." Sebastian tried to reassure the small AI, patting the monitor, hoping he'd understand. "Please, just... Don't do that again. We'll get out of here." 

"You will." 

"We will, Painter." Sebastian said firmly, finally letting go of the suffocated circuits, he could already feel Painter's body start to cool down. "I'm not leaving without you, I'd rather stay here if it meant being with you." 

If Painter could cry, he would've drowned the blacksite with his pain. He deleted the scribbled layer and gave Sebastian an I <3 you, it was the best he could do.

Sebastian sighs and sets the crumpled paper onto the desk, smoothing it in his claws first, accidentally ripping it. He pouted but persisted, he really wanted to do this.

For Painter.

The pens were ridiculously tiny in his grip, he was used to using his pencils in a certain way. With one finger less on the tally, he had to readjust it and couldn't find anything comfortable.

He drew a box with a face, trying to draw Painter, but the ink ran dry and the pen snapped like a twig in his hand.

Painter noticed and tried to cheer him up, "I'm sure it looks good! I'll show you what I've been working on." He teased.

Sighing, Sebastian lifts it up and shows him. "I tried," his voice reeked of embarrassment, but the AI seemed ecstatic, deleting the layer and revealing the beautiful work underneath it. 

It was a cartoonish drawing of him and Sebastian, looking at a sunset, a clawed hand on his metal casing. The hues blended together like they had always been together.

Sebastian was floored, and it got a whirring noise out of Painter's circuitry, they're both smiling like idiots.

"I... Take care of yourself for me, kid." 

"You too." 

Well, that was awkward.

Sebastian eyes the drawing tablet. "How does that work? Do you even use it?" 

Painter perked up, "It's for other people! My creator would use it to draw."

He hesitantly picked the pen up, struggling to hold it and draw, it looked like it was drawn by a child.

"Hey, if that gets a single scra—"

"Then I'll buy you a new one."

"Oh? You would? You really would?!" Painter geeked and drew alongside Sebastian.

"Of course I would, kid." 

What they drew wasn't good, but it was theirs.

When Sebastian eventually left to go scavenge, Painter named the file "us" and set it in his favorite folder, affectionately named "Seb." 

Surprise visits were a thing long forgotten; Painter would usually talk to Sebastian while displaying himself on the door number.

That was now, of course. Back then, the only way to see him was whenever Sebastian was called to fix Painter, he tried to fry his circuits so many times. 

"I can't believe you gave a computer depression," he had overheard the handyman's voice, speaking to a fellow expendable. Gruff and tired.

Well, that was then. He's in the here and now.

Sebastian wasn't forcing him to mine crypto or even asking for anything. Painter trying to hack into Navi and slowly figuring out how to activate the turrets was something he did on his own volition. All he can do to distract himself is art; that's all he's really good at.

"Hey, kid." Sebastian said with a smile, sitting on his coiled tail in front of the computer, "Look at what I got." He shows him the inky paper, it had random, wet splotches all over it, yet the page was mostly empty.

"Did you draw that?" 

"What? No, a Squiddle gave it to me like this."

"Oh, I was going to say you were good at abstract art."

"Pfft, really?" Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle, clasping his hands together. "You know, I've never been the art type. I never understood abstract art, it just looked like random lines to me."

"I think it's pretty, we should try!" He doodles the stylus on his screen and circles it in red. Already knowing what it means, Sebastian picks it up, and the two start coloring.

"My brother would sometimes show me his art," he commented at one random point, drawing random blobs on the screen. "I remember seeing the color wheel, yours has more colors."

Painter had dedicated a small corner of the screen to his face, as if mimicking a face cam. "Oh? But I think all drawing programs have the same wheel, maybe it's your eyes."

"Hmm, I doubt it." He closed the main two and kept the third one open, then the other way around. "No, no, you're right."

"That's so cool! I wish I could see more colors!" He seemed almost ecstatic about it, and for good reason. "It would let me paint so much more!"

"Really? It feels like a headache."

"You're always so negative!" Painter scolded, but didn't mean it, drawing himself with a smile.

Seconds melted into minutes, and minutes drifted into hours. By the time they're done, Sebastian fixes his posture, his spine consistently cracking. Loud. All the bones in his body were as loud as instruments, Painter couldn't help but wince.

"Don't do that again!" 

Just to tease him, Sebastian brings his wrists closer to Painter and moves them, cracking loudly. "Ah, that feels good." 

"Stooop!" He said playfully, drawing laughing tears going down his scribbled eyes.

"Nope, make me!" 

"I SAID STOP!" Painter raised his output volume to the maximum, using his self-made extension to bass boost his voice, imitating a yell. 

"OW!" Sebastian's world spun for a moment, rubbing his temples. "Jeez, kid. I'm sorry, I'll stop."

Why did he do that? 

Quiet. 

"Sorry, kid." He said a second time, gently rubbing his hand on top of his head. "I thought we were joking." 

"It's okay, Seb. I... I don't know why I did that." 

Painter was frying his systems while trying to think of something, the fans loud in Sebastian's ears.

Catching the hint, his lure lights up for a second.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you— I saw these really weird things the other day," Sebastian started his monologue. Painter went quiet, he always enjoyed this.

"So I went into the room and saw these... Statue things, they didn't move!" He cocks his head to look at the display screen.

Gesturing wildly, he doesn't still his hands. "They were colorful and honestly pretty ugly."

"How ugly? Angler ugly?"

Sebastian crinkles his nose. "No... Okay, it was one of the nicer things to look at." He gets comfortable on his tail. "I found a document, apparently those things are called abstract art."

"Wow, that's... Pretty abstract." Painter doodled his signature :3 face, sounding like a menace.

Sebastian can't help but chuckle at it, rolling his eyes. "Very funny, next thing you're going to tell me is that your favorite snack is microchips."

"My favorite snack is—"

"Now now, that wasn't an order."

They spend a few more ### together, time fading away.

Eventually, they both called it a day. Seb wrapped his tail around the table, and Painter turned his system off for a few hours, knowing he'd wake up again thanks to the energy keeping him powered on. 

... 

If only they could spend every day like this.

Chapter Text

His scales were beyond dry, sticking grossly at his flesh, rubbing against each other, and chipping away. Flaky. 

While the water wouldn't return them to a normal color, it sure does make the pain ebb away. Lessen.

He hated admitting it, but the tides felt like home. Living his childhood in a small hometown near the coastline, Sebastian had been no stranger to the beach.

Or maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, being forced to stay in the depths for years and years, over a decade by now. 

Or maybe it was the animal instincts in his DNA. He had a shorter temper and a primal need for blood. He—

Too many or's.

Looking at the breaking glass, he lifts his fist up and smashes it. He's in a faraway part from the facility, and it's pretty low. He's a fish, he'll adapt.

Diving into the water, he instinctively held his breath. He knew, intellectually, that he could breathe underwater. But that knowledge hasn't sunk in yet, and it was hard to change at least 30 years of instinct.

Going deeper, he can see the facility from the other side, the glass rooms were large yet seemed small from this side.

Swimming was a hassle— it felt like the Urbanshade employees screwed with his DNA for the fun of it. Sea snakes and whales don't have gills— so what was the point in giving him such mutations?

Yeah. "Just gills," his arse.

The whale DNA was not chosen for it, those animals don't even have them. Sea snakes don't either, yet they still pumped his veins full of it until his body mutated beyond recognition. 

The first time he saw his reflection, albeit in a puddle of his own tears, it felt like watching a horror film.

This body is not his.

He doesn't want to know the specifics of his horrifically mutilated body. Despite the years, it still feels so new in what it can and can't do, it felt like wearing a skin suit.

This body is not his to use.

He opens his mouth and breathes in, feeling it naturally go out the gills in his neck. He opens his eyes, met with a gorgeous array of colors and sharp, detailed edges. Even at the beach with goggles, he could never see this well.

"Okay, so—" he thought out loud, feeling the bubbles leave his mouth. His voice is so clear, it felt like gravity had just disappeared and he was on land.

The tail fluke got in the way. He can't swim like a snake because of the whale features, but he can't swim like a whale because of the snake features.

Well, that's mildly annoying.

He pushes through, he'll adapt, surely.

Going through the empty Let Vand Zone, he finds a familiar face. He instinctively smiles, slowly swimming over.

"You're even prettier up close" he didn't know if he had muttered it or thought it, but Eyefest clearly heard him anyway.

She gracefully circles around Sebastian, her eyes piercing through him. It's obvious that she's digging through his mind.

"Betty, hey—" 

"Be patient."

"Betty-lou!" He couldn't get away, she'd do it anyway.

"You are... Upset." She noted, stating the obvious. Sebastian swore he saw her frown.

Sebastian didn't say anything, he knew she was sniffing him out, taking a good look in his brain and assessing the situation. She's smart. Calculating.

Loving.

"You are my brethren," she reassured, it's one of the many things she repeats to him. "Packs stay together." 

He blinked, more of an instinct if anything. He can't cry underwater, only dry heave.

"You will be alright, Sebastian." 

Sebastian moved around, taking his hand and patting her nose, she moved away, swaying her body as if to shake it off. 

"Sorry." He felt bad, taking his hand away. 

"It is alright." She reassured him, doing something with her mouth. It takes him a second to realize she's just breathing.

I thought sharks suffocated if they stayed still.

"Not all of us." 

"GAH!" He flinched, "don't read my mind like that! It's... Uncomfortable." 

Eyefest was an incredibly smart, self aware shark. She's conscious in many ways, different from the other entities. But privacy is a concept she can't fully grasp— she relies on mind reading to get people to look into her eyes, it's her hunting tactic.

She knows privacy is important to Sebastian, but she doesn't know why.

"You are... Strange." She commented, and he said nothing.

"Come, let us eat."

He blinked, following behind her. "What? But... There's basically nothing."

She slowly swam up, making sure to be slow. Going too fast would kill them from the pressure change.

"We are not restricted here, the ocean is vast. I know my way around," she went to a zone Sebastian had never even heard of before, not even in the files.

They were... Leaving.

"But wait, what if we get lost?" 

"Then we'll find our way back, we cannot starve."

They were quiet, oddly quiet. Sebastian never had a problem with it, it had always been a context thing. It's unfair, in a way, she can hear his thoughts yet he can only wonder what her's is like.

I think in words and smells, she wants to say, but kept it to herself. She can't afford to get distracted.

Soon, they find their first meal. A school of... Some sort of fish. Sebastian doesn't recognize them, he was never into marine biology anyway. The blacksite doesn't have these critters, that's all he needs to know.

He was snapped out of it when he could smell the blood, taste it on his tongue. Of course Eyefest has been hungry. Big things need to eat. Especially active ones. 

"You watched, now it's your turn." 

She shows him another school of fish, and Sebastian did his best— yet they all swam away. Angry, he flails around. 

"You will tire yourself." She booped her nose into his side, getting him to flinch. "Betty, I'm not even hungry." 

"You will be if you keep flailing." 

She swims in circles again, it's her version of pacing. "You must hone into your instincts." 

Sebastian didn't look at her, pretty dumbfounded. This felt stupid, he could survive off of anything, really. He'll eat trash if he needs to. 

"Do you feel it, too?" 

It was vague, but he nodded. Sensing the movement in the water was... Strange. If he focused enough, he could smell his prey. His ear-fins wiggled, tail coiling. 

Approaching a lone fish— he strikes, his body jerking forwards, hands clasping at its slimy skin. It was an odd sensation, his fresh meat flailing around his hands, trying to get out.

He didn't notice until his vision blurs, his eyes roll into the crevices or his head. His jaw unhinges and he takes a bite and eats the fish in two, ripping it in half before swallowing the half chewed up food in one gulp.

He stares at his hands, turning his lure on to see the inky redness on his hands. His claws were... Bioluminescent, the freckles on them shining like the stars in the sky he hasn't seen since forever.

They trail his arms and tail, decorating his face and dorsal fins, the serpentine scales on his body having a certain pattern.

"Did you not know?" 

"No, Betty. I... No." 

He turns his lure off as if to hide, but her eyes were all seeing here, all knowing.

"You are not a monster for surviving."

He turns around to look into her eyes, feeling her hands combing through his mind, it felt like being a kid again, his mamá's hands combing through his hair whenever he got upset.

"I'm a monster." He said, ashamed at what he looked like, ashamed of what he needs to do to stay alive, ashamed for how he felt.

"You are my brethren." Was all she said.

Slowly, they make their way back to the Let Vand Zone, staying near light. That somehow doesn't stop the parasites, they shake them off their bodies.

Curiously, Sebastian grabs a few sticking to Betty's body, chomping their hard shells with his teeth. Crunchy.

"... Why don't you leave?" He asked abruptly, having thought about it for so long.

"Packs stay together." 

"... Who's your pack?" 

"You, me, and that computer." 

"Painter," he said softly, looking at her again. "Doesn't he anger you?" 

"I understand why he does it." She's done enough gauntlets to know; she takes the bait willingly, secretly enjoying the havoc.

There's a smug grin on her face, he can tell.

"You had a pack, too."

Don't do this to me, please.

He didn't trust his voice, his thoughts, nothing. It all hurt. He doesn't like thinking, it's all consuming. But there's nothing else to do. And for Betty, it's something she's learned to appreciate.

.... But she hates seeing him sad.

"I'm sure they'll still welcome you, mijo."

He eyes at her angrily, feeling himself break. Sebastian needs to be angry, sadness is a luxury he can't afford.

Yet he's in constant debt to it.

"I am not the boy they once knew." 

"You are stronger, capable. You have adapted." 

They stopped by the glass he had broken, she was far too big but they didn't need to be together to communicate. Their range was impressive.

Thank God the scientists never found out.

He nodded, not out of agreement but rather an acknowledgement that he was listening to her. He stalls. He didn't have to deal with reflective surfaces or the anglers's screaming.

Him and her. Together.

Free. The water is so vast.

But... Freedom is a fickle thing. How long would it take for him to swim up to the surface? Could they even do it? What about Painter? Would Sebastian be condemned to a life in the shadows? Would Urbanshade ever pay for what they did—

Sebastian didn't notice how hard he was breathing until she booped into him again, this time going for his side. It was a gentle shove, it snapped him out of it.

"Fear is dangerous,"she warned. "It lowers your guard down, you are safe in the water. With me." 

He looks at her, really looks at her, and feels warm. He misses the feeling.

It's like she knows. Knows something he doesn't and it's strangely comforting.

Sebastian saw her blinking a little weirdly, circling around her, swimming slowly to get a good look at her.

She's honest, not thinking twice before speaking. "My fin hurts."

"How long have you had this stuck in there?" He asked, tugging at the metal hook. It's been long enough for it to develop scar tissue and heal.

"I am unsure." 

Sebastian bends the metal in a certain way to flatten it, then he tugs it out in one swoop, picking it up before it gets the chance to sink down to the sea floor.

"There, good girl." He reassured her, keeping his hand to himself. This time, she actually tries to get him to pet her.

"Why won't you pet me? Do you have no sense of beauty?" 

He sighs, not falling for the guilt trip. Sebastian pats her snout, carefully ignoring her many eyes. 

Her scales are thick, somehow matte, it's a nice sensation. She's enjoying it just as much, rolling over.

They could do this for a while, but eventually they had to stop. 

"You are not alone." 

"... I know." He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"You do not burden me," she spoke before he said anything. They've had this conversation before and she will happily have it again. "I could never be annoyed by my brethren. I rejoice by having you here, mijo." 

"Thank you, Betty."

...

He goes back onto the dry surface, shaking his body dry. Sebastian finds his pouches thankfully dry and untouched, strapping them onto his naked body.

Whatever, it's not like anybody here understands the concept of nudity. Except maybe Painter, but he's never commented on it. Probably under the guise of artistic nudity. 

Somehow, he hated his reflection a little less. 

At least for now. 

His body, while ugly, was oddly useful. It will serve him well. 

Chapter Text

His body does, in fact, serve him well.

Sitting down against the dirty walls, he stares at the large fish hook in his claws. Then at his broken uniform laying on the floor.

He has all the time in the world, he might as well kill some of it and learn something new.

The metal hook is bendy and stretchy, thankfully maleable. It's easily thinned out by his large claws. While trying to scramble up a memory as to what an aguja a stitching needle looks like, he brings the metal to his mouth and stabs one of his teeth into it, giving it a small hole, using his razor sharp vision to center it.

It's comically small for his monstrously large claws, guess he puts the hand in handy quite well.

He yanks one of the many, many pieces of fabric strewn across the floor, it's increasingly apparent he has hoarder tendencies. That's a problem for later.

Documents— anyone can understand, but the lab coats of your tormentors? Not so much.

Shuddering at the horrid texture of familiarity and pain, he haphazardly rips them up and sews them back together, using scissors to fix the edges. He can't afford to blunt down his only pair. Long gone would be the days of wearing an expendable uniform, or nothing at all.

The higher-ups hadn't even bothered to accommodate for the size or his third arm much less the fourth. If he was going to stay here, he was going to be comfortable.

Maybe all the drawing with Painter was helping his dexterity, somehow.

Speed always belies precision, but this is so, so slow. 

It feels agonizing. 

How different is this from stitching flesh? 

Is this how the doctors saw his body? A mess of skin fabric, needed to be forced graphed together?

This is better than nothing. He reassured himself. No one has to see this disgusting thing.

Getting the size right was the worst part Sebastian went through so many lab coats before realizing the size was wrong. He knew he was big but this seemed ridiculous.

At the very least, he can always reuse fabric, but it's always more annoying and there's increasingly less of it left.

The process repeats itself another two times before he manages to get it done— his wrists were sore, and his spine crackled when he stood up.

Getting it all organized was a hassle; his bad habits proved fruitful, throwing all the clothes in the bathroom was useful. Sebastian suddenly remembers the pile of laundry he had left on his bathroom floor.

He was supposed to wash it on Sunday. He hadn't done it, hasn't, and now he never will. His mother definitely would've scolded him, a lecture he would've rolled his eyes at is now something he misses.

Had he left her a mess?

Ignoring the thoughts, he turns around, looking at how his hard work hugs itself around his body, covering up the marks he's come to despise so much.

Suddenly, he smiles. It's good. Good enough.

Painter would like it. Now he has something completely new to draw. The rest would either ignore it or try to play with his handywork.

Sitting back down, he rummages deep into the pile— he's surprised to find leather. It's far too short and he can't figure out how to stitch pockets, but he'll use his pouches for that.

It's quiet. Too quiet. Save for the insistent screaming of the anglers's and Pandemonium, or the happy giggles from the Squiddles. There's more entities hasn't met before, he's sure, but Sebastian finds himself far too tired to venture out from his usual resting spot.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Actually, it's incredibly noisy. It's just... Weird. He's usually talking to somebody or bickering.

"This is stupid," he mumbles to himself, needing to hear spoken words and not just gargled noise. "Whatever, bla bla bla. I'm a mutated fish making clothes for himself because some stupid company couldn't waste an extra 5 bucks for someone's dignity." 

He complained to nobody but himself, then muttered, "chinga tu madre." He somehow chuckles to himself, he hasn't heard anybody say anything like that in years.

Usually, the only language to assault his ears in this place was the American English he grew up with, albeit with a different accent, that or British. If not, it was a mix of Norwegian and something else he couldn't identify.

He could probably guess if you gave him a map, but his highschool years were long ago. He probably can't point to Chile on a map.

Chile.

Sebastian doesn't remember much, he grew up in the US, near the coast line. The details were a blur and he never really asked why— he enjoyed it.

Dinners and fiestas with his extended family had always been so fun, a mix of his home. Despite his mamá insisting he was Chilean (and his own insistent pride), he was Chilean-american, it was a more accurate description of him and the culture he was raised in.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he heard Spanish? Sebastian had tried to teach a few LR-Ps a bit of Spanish but surprisingly, nobody knew. And less shockingly, nobody learned a word. 

Can he even pronounce it with his new teeth and tongue? He remembers the taste of empanadas, of his mother's—

"OW!"  

Blood drips down his makeshift needle— in his outburst, he has stabbed it deep into his flesh, so far in it almost reached the bone.

Clenching his teeth, he rips the needle out and brings his wounded claw to his mouth, pressing it against his lips.

He stares at the metal, the pain had snapped him out of a spiral.

The undershirt was actually pretty comfortable, the materials he used for it were softer than the ones for the jacket. The whites somehow came in an array of shades, it resembled patchwork.

His childhood shirts were often sown the same way, Mrs. Solace would lovingly scold the gremlin out of him, trying to teach him life skills she swore he'd find useful one day.

Too bad he always zoned out during the many lectures, why did he always reminisce when doing literally anything?

It's getting annoying.

Living in his head was seriously getting to him.

He prickled his skin again with the needle, feeling the thick warmth trickle down his finger as he pulls the metal downwards.

....

At least his blood is still red.

Sebastian can already hear Eyefestation's Betty's concern, the other entities sniffing the blood out and maybe judging him for it. Painter would find out eventually, he's an incredibly smart computer.

He can't do it. Not now anyway, he'll think it through.

He drapes the half finished jacket over his back and three tired shoulders, making a leave for it. He had someone to show off to. 

Chapter Text

He slithers through the halls, only occasionally looking around. He wasn't in the mood to take a detour.

Thanks to all his scavenging, he had gotten used to the lay out. The server rooms were a pain to get around though, always had been.

It just reminds him on how big he is.

He occasionally finds himself with an entity, like the anglers or the Squiddles, Pandemonium was a rarer oner but it was never a surprise.

It was nice, finally being comfortable with the others. It's impossible to maintain order in such a place, but it's not like he ever invented to.

The chaos had been his ticket to undrugged skin and flesh, he's not going to back down now.

Some of them were headache inducing, others a delight to be around, and some he had a small fondness over.

For the first time in a while, Sebastian stops. Hand on a nearly empty gun he always held, a souvenir from the start of the lockdown.

His fins wiggle, nares instinctively flaring up. He can hear it, feel it.

Footsteps.

But no one in this facility has feet, the only normal conclusion would be a group of expendables, but Urbanshade had temporarily shut down the project for a few months now.o

So unless someone snuck in, it couldn't have been them.

SMACK! 

Sebastian whips his head around and is met with a humanoid wall of flesh, eyeless but loud, walls embedded into it's rotten flesh.

He slaps it with his tail, sending it flying. Sebastian had managed to encrust the entity into the wall, the body slowly fell out of it, the squishy meat seizing on the floor.

Blood was no mystery on his hands, but this thing sure was.

Okay, maybe not everything in the place is aquatic. First the exception was the DiVine, now this?

He slithers over and grabs the trypophobia inducing monster by the leg, dangling it like a toy. Its back was absolutely awful and Sebastian couldn't help but grimace at it, dropping it to the floor.

For some reason, he didn't feel anything. Just mild inconvenience.

It's so... Human.

He drops the shaking body onto the floor and goes back on his merry way, going through heavy containment to get in.

A detour is needed, clearly.

Sebastian goes in and slides the keycard in the reader, going into the claustrophobic room.

"Hey, kid." 

"Sebastian!" Painter said with a smile, immediately friend. "What was that?! It was loud."

"You heard it from here?"

"I—I did! Did you get hurt?" Poor thing sounded so worried.

He shakes his head, then hums. "It might've been a wall dweller, I've never seen them until now." He chuckled to himself. "And I thought the Squiddles were sneaky."

"Wait a minute..." Painter squints, taking a good look at him. "You got clothes!"

Sebastian chuckles, spinning around to give Painter a full 180 of his new outfit.

"How did you do it?!" 

Sebastian rests on the floor, "I made it myself."

"How did you get the needle? Thread?"

"I reused some lab coats I found, and bended a fishhook."

Painter lets out an innocent ooh, looking at him innocently. "I see why they called you the handyman."

"Why do you always call me that?" He raised a brow.

"It's how I met you! That's what everyone called you."

Sebastian didn't have the energy to humor him further, so Painter continues. "What?I know you met me as the computer."

"I mean, you are."

"I am, and you're a handyman!"

Painter's screen goes blank, and he pulls up the camera systems in the blacksite. 

"I was able to hack into the turrets!" He sounded super proud of himself, Sebastian gave the monitor a pat before grabbing the mouse, struggling to use it.

"I'm proud of you, kid." 

Painter drew his face with sparkling eyes. "Really? You are?" 

"I always am." 

Almost as if to cut their sweet moment, there's a moving figure on the cameras. Wall dweller. 

He takes control and shoots the bastard until it's dead. 

"Come on, Seb! You'll like it!" 

After some nagging, he found himself sitting next to his older sister, playing on their old computer. Their mamá would've called it a violent, satanic game that would corrupt their minds.

He only downloaded it because of her. He'd never admit to secretly enjoying it.

"Sebastian? A—are you okay?" Painter asked worriedly, looking at his friend in genuine concern.

"Sorry, kid, I'm okay." He answered, knowing Painter was going to ask him anyway. "I was just thinking about my family, that's all." 

"... Are they waiting for you at the surface?" 

The air is heavy, but they don't mind. 

"I'm not sure, Painter. They think I'm dead, I don't want them to see... This." He gestured to his body. "Who'd accept a freak like me?" 

"I do." Painter didn't have to think twice. "You're... The only one aside from my creator who's ever cared for me."

"I appreciate it, Painter." He doesn't want to dwell on it for much longer, the pain of grief hanging heavily in the air. Painter understands, of course, the pain of his creator sometimes got so bad, he'd overclock his systems if not for Sebastian.

It's quiet except for the steady sound of fans whirring and Sebastian's own breathing. 

"I don't understand why you don't just..." The question goes unfinished, but Sebastian knows what he's going to ask.

"Because I'm taking you to the surface with me." 

Painter hesitated. "How are you so sure?"

Sebastian's breath hitched, and he doesn't know if Painter noticed. "I'm not, but... I'll die trying." He promised, mind set on it.

He spent a [####] time with Painter, letting him draw his newly designed outfit. The turrets can wait for later, they had priorities, clearly.

It was strange, watching the display screen show his drawing process, it felt like watching those art SpeedPaints on YouTube.

"Look at what I drew," he had said proudly, shoving his old, chipped tablet into his face.

Puzzles, he watches a video of his work.

"What is that?" 

"It's a SpeedPaint! It's like... What I did. Pretty cool, right?" 

"I thought it was just my outfit," he crossed his arms, leaning against the metal bars. "I don't look that good."

"Well, you're very lovely to draw."

He paused, then gave a laugh that bordered on a sob. Him? Sebastian Solace, the failed science experiment, lovely to draw? "I look like a freak."

"Doesn't everyone, though?" 

"Hmm, good point."

Painter halts his drawing, and Sebastian feels like he can move. He runs his claws through his filthy hair, moving it out of his face.

"What happened to your hand?" 

Crap.

"I had an accident when making the outfit," it wasn't a lie, but not a whole truth either. It's just... Omitting information. Painter is burdened enough.

For some reason Sebastian can't figure out but notices, is Painter looking... Worried. 

"Please don't hurt yourself, I—" 

"I didn't." He said, a little too abruptly. He gave himself away. "Painter, please." 

He takes the hint and goes back to drawing, ignoring the scar and moving on.

The air doesn't feel as suffocating as Sebastian had expected, if anything there was an undercurrent of understanding. 

It clicked like the trigger of his gun, he felt so stupid. Of course Painter knew was up, 

He was guilty of it, too.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian's tail thrashed uneasily, he clasps his hands together. 

"It's okay, I understand. It's..." Painter watches Sebastian lower himself further to his monitor. 

"If it keeps you alive, then I can't be mad."

"Thank you, kid." 

Chapter Text

Scavenging was becoming a daily habit. With every new room came more useful loot: medkits, snacks, flashlights, and documents— he had been teaching himself how to sew pockets onto the belts he straps onto his tail, stuffing them full before haphazardly reorganizing them into the new belts he found.

The only benefit of his long tail was the strength it carried, it gave him an inhumane agility, and he had found an extra use for it— carrying luggage. He can barely feel it most of the time, it's small goods. 

After massacring one of the only vending machines in the area (it'll last long if he rations it properly), he takes a small snack and calls it his dinner. Everything is dinner, or he calls it whatever he feels like.

Time is not something he concerns himself with, it feels never-ending in such a place. Seconds stretch into hours, drifting into minutes and squeezing into days.

A loud "chirping" noise catches his attention, forcing him to turn around. Sebastian feels slime all over his scutes, a soft body bumping into him insistently, crawling over him.

Sebastian bends down, eyeing the small, round, white and purple creature. It's a sea bunny, he smiles in recollection. He outstretches his large claws, they somehow feel soft, like jello. The small creature hops on, and he can't help but lift it up, eyes narrowing as he inspects it.

His claws gently scratched its slimy head, the small bunny seemed to be enjoying it, letting out those weird noises again. They're loud, but not by much.

Suddenly, he feels more slime crawling all over his tail, even more sea bunnies! They're so small and cute, he lets out an audible "awh" before curling his tail around his body, petting all the creatures.

"Those deep-sea bunnies are so cute!" one of the scientists said to their colleague, their voice starting to fade as the piercing pain from the scalpels pierced through his flesh, the words nothing more than an incoherent mumbling in his brain.

Oblivious to sadistically enjoying his suffering, they kept talking to each other. 

"Yeah, I'm going to need a break from seeing this thing. Knock it out already!" 

"The scrunklies!" His three hands found themselves occupied by all of them, Sebastian can finally understand the whimsy the doctors always referred to them with.

Sneakily, one of them tried to steal one of his lanterns, he quickly picks the bunny up and takes his prized possession out of the critter's mouth, strapping it securely. "Nuh uh uh, bad." He scolded, and the nameless sea bunny visibly deflated.

"No, not like that!" He sets them down, walking over to the small living room they found themselves living in. There was a small hole in the wall where they went in and out of, surrounded by plush flooring and cushy sofas.

Begrudgingly, he lies down on the somehow still plush material, head resting against the armrest. The rest of his body curls up and rests on the floor, his tail fluke giving a happy wiggle without him really noticing.

The critters were scattered around, playing with each other. Some of them had the zoomies, running around like crazy animals; others were lazily sleeping alone, and others huddled up with each other. He could see one of them rolling around with a ball in the corner of his eye.

Lazily, he sits upright, watching a sea bunny take out a flashlight from the aforementioned hole. Curiously, he accepts the offer.

They, too, shared hoarder tendencies. These were toys to them.

Well, it's not like he needs this specific lantern, it's nearly out of juice. He puts it on this bunny's back and the animal happily leaves, crawling back with a code breacher on its back instead. He happily takes it. 

Traders. He enjoys his. Watching them play with the lantern was a fascinating experience.

They're rather big but obviously look like ants compared to him. It's a miracle they can live on land.

...

The knowledge that they had obviously been experimented on is an uncomfortable truth he still has yet to accept— but these were one of the rare creatures that had genuinely been tended to. They aren't in constant pain and look... Great, all things considered. 

They're not dying out of hunger, at most some of them look dry. He can fix that with some salt water. 

Speaking of, he takes the plastic bottle out of one of his many pouches. He had filled it during one of his many hunting sessions with Betty, letting the small oomfies drink away at it.

He slowly tilts it over, a steady stream of water hitting them, and they all fight for it, but most of them roll around in the new puddle. 

"You don't talk, do you?" His voice was soft and low, claws all over them, it's a sight to behold. Who knew a beast so violent could be so gentle? 

Of course, they don't answer him. It's strange, everything else he's met so far can talk to him, even if barely. Or he can at least judge by their weird facial expressions and screaming.

On a second glance, they did! He smiles as their rhinophores move around, and they somehow started... Dancing?

The large glass window shows only inky darkness on the other side, with bubbles coming up. 

Sebastian says nothing as he relaxes on the couch again, letting the animals crawl all over him while he gives all of them pets. 

They're cute and act like cats, one of them had managed to crawl into his hair, but he said nothing. Until it pulled on his esca.

"Ow!" He forced himself up, the bunny fell down, and he caught it in his palms, giving it a grimace. It understands his mildly upset growling and hops off.

Out of boredom, he started to mentally name them— Scout for the adventuring one, Lizzy for the lazy one, and so on. But it didn't really matter, they all respond to his voice.

Eventually he ends his self-given break and gets up, taking the keycard out of his pocket and opening the next door. Moving with the Scrambler on his back was a pain, at least it's not chafing against his scales thanks to his new clothes.

Chapter Text

The door opened with a clank, and he stared at the black abyss below him. The room was huge and had bridges; the metal rails seemed reinforced enough.

Sebastian can vaguely remember working on these in his earlier days as an MR-P, bending the metal and handling the material but never actually slithering on them, deemed "too heavy." 

He can't recall if they've always been this long, but... it's almost impossible to recall certain things anyway.

He pushes those thoughts aside, realizing he has to go through it if he wants to advance. Sighing, he squeezes through and moves around like in a maze, the pipes were overly big. Maybe this room easily gets flooded?

Sometimes the MR-P's would be able to play games on old consoles and Nintendo DS's... Before they got confiscated, anyway. It was always old tech, but it looked strange.

Do people still play on those things?

The railing comes to a stop above one of the pipes. He eyes it wearily, leaning at the end of it to get a closer look, something was down there. Surely he could fall on his non-existent feet.

...

CRACK

OW!

Sebastian holds his head, his body sluggish and full of lead. The fall wasn't that bad, and he did at least land on his lower side, but did it hurt.

Did he break a rib or two?

Ugh...

"I'm going to end up concussed..." He angrily mutters, picking up one of his many code breachers from one of his many straps.

"... Is that even a word?" He rolled his eyes, it was whatever. His own attitude tires him sometimes, having company was now on his bucket list.

His vision finally focuses, and he can't help but stare, the large door slowly opens with a crescendo of screeching until it abruptly stops in his ears. The area is huge, there are doors in nearly every corner and side, a jackpot for later. 

Slithering through the hugeness of it all, he points with his fingers and moves it to point at different doors.

De tin Marín de don pingüe,

The room in question had a strange box in it, it poured out sulfuric acid, and he wondered if Chainsmoker had anything to do with it.

Cúcara, mácara, títere fue,

This room was empty, what a way to go. At least he didn't need to use a door to figure that out. A lot of these had nothing in them. He keeps looking.

Yo no fui, fue Teté.

He picked up the document, analog Christmas tree? How much money does this company have? He saves it for later, it seemed like a boring read, but this place isn't exactly a library, it's more akin to some university archive.

Pégale, pégale, al que fue.

He takes an old keycard and slides it through. Is this worth the waste of code breachers?

This one seemed... Interesting. There was a table littered with tons of red remotes. He scans the document— imaginary friend? Who needs these anyway?

He remembers the cartoons he used to watch as a kid, huddled up on their family sofa. Pressing red buttons was always bad— but in a place like this, what could go wrong? 

As if to spite the TV he hasn't seen in a millennium, he clicks it. 

"Thank you for using our limited-time imaginary friend remote! Hope you enjoy the next two days with your very own real, not so imaginary, friend!"

Blinking, a strange red mass appears in his vision. It doesn't move when he does, it seems physical. Anchored in place. Real, 3d even.

"Huh, this is what all those scientists were obsessing over?" He muttered to himself, going on to scavenge as normal.

As she does best, she starts making fun of him. "You can't even do anything right!" The nameless friend laughed, "look at you, you can't eve—" 

"Shut up!" Ugh, they weren't lying when they called her mean. No wonder they all went insane, what did he summon? Is he drugged? "You're imaginary slop." 

...

Good. He continues.

The next rooms over were more of the same: repeats, cars, or boring things. The vehicles caught his eyes, they seemed old. He could probably fix it, if it came down to it.

The most interesting thing had to be what seemed to be Pandemonium's containment room, it was a no-brainer.

He hasn't talked to Painter in what feels like forever, Betty is hunting, holding a conversation with the anglers is impossible, Pande is too impatient to say anything that isn't a demand, the Squiddles are off playing hide and seek clearly—

"You're an idiot, you can't even escape right."

—It's all piling up.

Sebastian groaned, this was going to be a long, long day. Eternal, even.

"How long are you going to stick around for?"

"You don't even remember anything!" She didn't answer the question. Hearing him grumble, she did. "48 hours!" 

So two whole days.

How long is that going to take in a place like this?

"Two days! I just told you."

He rubs his temples. "Oh, really? You never said anything about mind reading."

She giggled, it seemed they were playing that game. It was fine, Betty had somehow gotten him used to telepathy, and it's not like he exactly gets privacy anymore.

That was a right he lost a long time ago.

"I need to give you a name," Sebastian sighed, if not, he'd resort to calling her by her code name.

She seemed somehow offended, "And what will you call me?" 

He gave it though. "I'm calling you... Puta." 

"Hey!" Her voice rang in his head so loud, it hurt.

So this is why you're not supposed to press the big red button.

"Wow, so helpful." He said with gritted teeth, his voice a smooth, sarcastic mimic of misplaced delight.

Trying to distract himself with the very few things he can do in such a place, he mindlessly wanders around.

Did the place look different?

"What are you talking about?" 

"Get out of my head!"

It had to have been at least hours, her voice was starting to get to him. Out of sheer boredom, he looks at her from the corner of his sight. 

"Are you done now?" He was resting by one of the vents, the only thing he knew was that he was getting closer to NAVI. What was a detour has now become the main mission, but he'll do it later— he has enough time anyway. 

The rooms were rusted and covered in deep claw marks; it littered the floor and walls. It wasn't comfortable, but he did what he always does and used his own body as a cushion.

Back pain is just something you get used to.

"No, you can't even—"

Sebastian wasn't paying attention, he had finally managed to tune her out. It's nothing he hasn't heard before, she spoke like the scientists that dealt with him. 

It, not a he. An animal, not a person.

Even when they upgraded his rank, it was stupid. Slave labor disguised as liberty.

He will never let them touch him again.

All this shit because they were sedating him. The process always hurt, stabbing tranquilizers into blood until eventually the doctors couldn't bother anymore.

Anesthesia was a luxury they could afford but refused to give. He didn't deserve it.

Sebastian locks the vent and lies on the pile of crusty lab coats and ripped fabric he had newly compiled, maybe he can try to fix his shirt, or at least make it longer. 

Something. Anything. His hands need to be occupied, lest he want to find a body in them.

How much longer would he have lasted if they didn't try dragging him to another lab that day?

How much time has the lockdown lasted?

Does he want to know?

Sebastian swore he could still feel the doctors breathing down his neck. Was he hallucinating? He feels *something* there, and for a second, he's convinced it's a wall dweller.

It's red.

"YOU!"

Z-432-1 giggled, that cheeky bastard.

He blinked and she was gone. "Don't DO that!"

... 

She stares at him, how lovely. She's smiling like a brat.

"I'm naming you Rose and calling it a day." Sebastian didn't think she was worth his extra time. He lost enough brain cells just by dealing with her.

"I like Rosie!" She said sweetly, as if she hadn't scared the life out of him.

"I think you took years off my lifespan."

The makeshift needle was pretty fragile in his claws, but it worked. It didn't matter if what he wore was dirty. 

It's cleaner than his flesh.

"That looks bad!"

"You suck at it."

"Just give up!"

"Dios MIO, ¡CÁLLATE!" He pushed himself up and slithered out of the room, she's stuck in his head, and all he can do is deal with her stupid voice.

Sebastian finds a familiar administration room and splurges through it with a feverish rage. He hates understanding why everyone would prank each other with the remotes. 

Those poor newbies— now it was his turn.

He stops by one of the deep-sea bunny rooms, finding them playing together, rolling around. Without a second thought, he sets the remote on one of their backs to trade. 

"What are you doing?" Rose tilted her head, a genuine question wrapped in a playful tone. A little offended, even. 

"Getting rid of YOU!" He extends his hand out, looking back at the bunny with a now blue remote. If he uses it, surely it'll override Rose. Nothing is worse than her.

It did not.

"Why are you still there?!" 

"Thank you for using our—" It says the same thing it did last time.

A blue mass sits across from Rose, Sebastian turns around to look at it. It's solemn and speaks softly, he can deal with it.

"I'm naming you... Cabrón." 

"That's not very nice, is it?" He frowned.

Almost immediately, Rose started a fight with him. "You shouldn't exist." 

"How would you feel if I said that about you?" 

Sebastian rubs his eyes and drags himself across the Blacksite, this is going to be a long, long ride.

"Painter! These things just won't get out of my HEAD!" He complained, trying to resist slamming his fists against the table.

The small computer curiously looked at him, oblivious to all the noise in his head. "Maybe you can sleep it off? It's been a whole [###]"

He glitched out.

"Say that again?" He was definitely mishearing it.

"Uh, I said [####]. Why are you confused?" He looked at his system again.

What day is it?

"Painter. What day is it?" Sebastian couldn't hide his desperation anymore. This whole time, he tried to not ask, scared to figure out if it had only been one day since the lockdown, a week, a year, or a decade maybe.

"I just told you it's [####]!" He was getting worried. "Is my system glitching out?" Now Painter was worried. "They already blocked my creator!” The whirring of his fans grows louder.

He sighs and pats Painter's casing; comfort never came naturally to him, but Sebastian tried, for him. For them.

"You don't even understand?" Rose seemed confused, and blumaginary friends spoke up. "Don't be so mean."

Had they been speaking the entire time? Sebastian hasn't noticed, too worried for his computer friend.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll reach the surface, and I'll fix you, you'll remember all about your creator."

"... Promise?"

"I promise, kid." He smiled at him, momentarily forgetting about the teeth in his mouth, the touch he gave Painter was slow and gentle, and he forgot about the claws he fitfully calls hands.

Painter gives him a scribbled :D and goes back to drawing. "I'm going to deal with puta and cabrón, I'll see you around." 

He hears a collective "hey!" In his head, but Sebastian promptly ignored it to tend to... Whatever he felt like, really.

How long has it been since anything?

"Can you not even keep track of time?" Rose giggled. He groans at the sound of her voice.

"Can you?" 

"No, I don't need to!"

He goes back to sewing; it was coming along nicely.

Why can't he remember going back here, though?

"Is living worth it?" The question is so morbid he thinks it's his, until he sees the sad look on blumaginary friend.

"I don't know, is it?" 

Silence. They're all quiet.

Not for long, Rose immediately picks up a fight with him again. Sebastian would enjoy their fighting if it wasn't in his head and a constant nuisance, interrupting his thoughts.

It was nice, though. He doesn't have to sulk, but it's only marginally better.

Sebastian couldn't help but think about his siblings, they were always bickering. The things he'd do just to get another chanclazo from his mamá, another hair tug from his sister, or another interrupter night of sleep from his brother.

"Well— you're just ugly and fat! A—and stupid, and fat!"

"No, you! You're a disgrace!" 

"Oh, oh really?!" 

Rose disappeared in a few minutes, it seemed it had been a whole 48 hours. He was... A little relieved, and the other one seemed tired, saying nothing.

He occasionally hears the blue one sulk, asking questions about life and mortality, as if he could die.

"Hey," Seb sighed, finishing his coat with minimal scarring in his hands. The blood trickled slowly, and he swears he can still see an IV lodged into his hand. "Stop thinking about that." 

Magically, the imaginary friend complied— not for long, but long enough for him to wipe his hands with the dirty cloth.

"I'm definitely concussed." He mutters to himself. So much about this was so, so wrong.

"Did you hit your head?" Why did he sound so worried about some random monster? 

"I did, yeah. I fell." Seb deadpanned, too tired for this.

"Like Eric?" 

Sebastian fell silent, he didn't know about any Eric until recently, finding the billboards in the offices he's already looked through. "I... Yeah, how do you know him?" 

"I was with him when he fell! I tried to warn him." 

Were these things programmed or... 

"I have memory." He answered, Sebastian had forgotten they can read the mind they inhabit like a book.

He nodded, sulking on the floor. There's nothing worth talking about. It was so quiet, he hadn't even realized he was alone, Blumaginary was gone.

I'm so tired... 

Chapter Text

He draws a line next to the few already embedded into the wall. One, then another, then another...

One, two, four... Eight... 

"Ugh, what's the point?" Sebastian buries his face into his hands, his third one held tightly against his body. 

Bored. He's bored.

Betty was still gone, the Squiddles are having too much fun in the water, the anglers are annoying, and he can only deal with Pande for so long. The remotes are now forbidden, and the sea bunnies are decently far away from his new camp.

Finding the walkie-talkie had been a godsend, every now and then he and Painter checked in on each other. The occasional chatter helped him not sulk all the time.

He survived worst of it, this shouldn't be hard to deal with.

"Are you still counting the days?" Painter sounded worried, they had been talking about this. Sebastian was getting obsessed, unable to understand him.

"I... I need to know how long this has lasted." 

Silence.

"Hey, Seb?" Painter asked shyly, his voice barely being picked up. "Just... Take care of yourself." 

"I will." 

"Do you..." Painter hesitated. "How long do you think this has lasted?" Sebastian was just as hesitant, time was a weird concept. "I don't know, it feels eternal. "When was your last shed?"

He hummed. That was a... Smart way of trying to estimate the work of a clock. "It's been a while... And I think my hair stopped growing."

"Have you eaten anything?"

He can't lie. "No... I'm starving. There's nothing to eat anymore." Painter's fans whirr, pondering. "Well... I hope you find something soon."

"Thank you, kid." He smiled fondly.

Nothing.

There's nothing.

There's nothing in the halls or the door next over, or the one after that, and the one ###

But... So... Hungry.

He crawls through the halls, searching for something. Anything. Everything was getting to him. 

It's so...

Quiet.

Too quiet.

His hands are empty. It's worse than an empty stomach. He'll resort to biting metal if it shuts down the thoughts in his head.

Footsteps.

Sebastian's hand hovers over his holster, the three-bullet gun, standard guard protocol, lays fully loaded.

It kicks him. It makes a strange sound and smashes its own head agaisnt his tail, face contorting and jaw unhinging.

BANG!

Wall Dweller. Those pesky things, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Their bodies are more empty than whole with the gaping holes in their body, gaps where muscle should be.

Meat...

EAT EAT EAT!

His stomach is so empty it burns, he can taste the bile in his empty mouth. The anticipation gnaws at his brain, and he can no longer think. The world spins, and his pinprick eyes lock in on his target.

CRUNCH

The flesh gets stuck in his teeth, and he rips the dead carcass in two violent bites.

The flesh melts into his mouth, and he forces himself to swallow the rotting meat down his throat. They're not even good— a cruel mockery the food he used to eat at dinner. It tasted like chicken if you could squint hard enough. It wasn't that different from the meager rations he ate during the experiments.

Enough to survive.

He can see the growing holes in between his ribs, his tail laced with gaps in-between his new bones. They're not "new," yet they'll always feel new.

How much weight has he lost?

The blood dripped down his clawed hands, and he swallowed another bite, his jaw unhinging. He refuses to gulp it all down like a snake. 

Savor it. 

EAT.

Sebastian didn't realize the hot tears pouring down his cheeks until they fell on the corpse. At this point, he's sure he's eaten bullets and bones.

He slowly dragged himself up, the only evidence was a black patch on the floor where he had aimed. Green like mucus decorates the floor in splotches, webbing his fingers together like glue.

The only thing to snap him out of his thoughts is the familiar screaming from Pandemonium. He watches the critter run through the halls, bumping into him and opening her jaw, all her eyes looking at him. 

Sebastian tiredly grins at her and extends his hand out, petting the weird mass of flesh. She quiets down, letting out a strange gurgling noise he can only describe as wet.

"Good girl," he chuckled, suddenly feeling better. At least a bit. She's surely done this all before— they used the poor thing as a trash can. 

Me? Me? Good!

Like a dog, she picks up the empty medkit he throws at her and swallows it in one go, deciding enough was enough and running off.

She was full of surprises, words couldn't express the shock he experienced when she barfed up a guitar for him, surprisingly intact.

Telling Painter had been hilarious, a weird sense of calm washing over him.

Would leaving even be worth it?

He'll die at the surface.

No.

The hunger pains definitely lessened, and Pande showed up at an incredibly convenient time. It seems like, in a place like this, he can't even sulk.

Sebastian can vividly remember his younger brother coming in and being chaotic. Even if he tried, Sebastian couldn't stay upset for too long.

Either way, there's relief and a misplaced sense of joy it had been a mere Wall Dweller and nothing else. It's not like there are many edible things down here, though. 

"Seb man! Seb man!"

A group of Squiddles stop by in front of him, there are so many. Sebastian squints, his eyes adjusting. 

"We found bunny! Bunny like us, bunny have something to give!" 

He quietly hums to himself, following the critters to one of the administration rooms.

He's definitely concussed, the rooms didn't look like this, and there's no way someone came in here to change anything. It's the placement. 

Something is... Wrong.

Sebastian stops, right in front of the sea bunnies. Lately, he's found himself around here a lot, it's one of the few things he does with any sense of frequency.

One of the animals starts to crawl on his scutes, their slimy body struggling to hop on.

He lowers himself to the floor, suddenly feeling something slimy in his hands.

A scarf.

He doesn't think twice before putting the dirty cloth around his neck, covering the currently unused gills.

It lightly chafes at his skin, but it's... Comfortable. 

"So? So? What does Seb man—" 

"I love it. Thanks, kids." He entertains them for a bit longer, patting their heads. 

With nothing better to do, a Squiddle looks at its brethren and makes those clicking noises Sebastian has been managing to decode; not that he'd tell them.

They all giggle, and a few wrap their tentacles around him, as if a 10ft monster was the most normal dude in the world.

To them, he is.

"Play! We want play!" 

He clasps his hands together and looks at them with a curious gaze, not like there's anything else to do.

"And what would that be?" He assumed they wanted another quest— something for pats, to find an object.

"We hide! You find!" 

Oh. He... Hmm.

"Alright, I'll count in the corner."

...

The sea bunnies are smart and sneaky, he'll give them credit. But the Squiddles are downright cheaters, he turns his lure on just to sniff them out. 

"Me no likey!" 

"WE no like!" 

"Okay, okay!" He sighed. "Stop cheating." 

"We don't cheat!" They seemed offended, games were the only things they enjoyed in the long run, the audacity to accuse them of such a thing!

Sebastian sighs. "You can't camouflage from me, you need to be searchable."

They squint at him. "Ca... Camou—?"

"Blend in."

They let out a collective "oh" and started laughing.

... 

It was his turn to hide, and he was always sniffed out. It's so obvious they were doing it as a joke, and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit. 

This time, he was crawling on the ceiling. Hidden, his body stretched out above the pipes. 

"Where did Seb man go?" The Squiddle visibly deflates, the rest scramble and search. The poor things are so confused, where did he go? 

Unable to handle their sad faces, he leans down.

"Boo!" 

In a bout of karma, he falls to the floor. It hurt, but their giggling was worth it.

They all searched for the bunnies, those bastards were hiding under a sofa, and Sebastian had to lift it up.

Despite it being a "weekly" occurrence, the air quotes can't possibly be heavier. He's lost track of time— he never had one to begin with and waters the plants whenever he feels like it. 

He immediately started coughing, the air was filled with smoke. The poor DiVine were seemingly freaking out but he stopped the fire by throwing water at it.

"God— okay, okay." He rubs his temples, be nice.

"Look, this is to stop fires." He picked up the fire extinguisher, giving them a demonstration by putting out a small patch of fire.

He hands it to one of them, and the DiVine picks it up, extinguishing some of it. Sebastian quietly watches them pass it around, quickly putting everything out.

It wouldn't last forever, but it did help.

Almost as a reward, one of the smaller ones hands him a fruit again, he happily swallows it in one gulp.

He waters them with what little he has left, they somehow seem greener, and the air, despite being full of smoke only ### ago, is clean and somehow fresh.

Mowing the lawn had never been something that took long, that or watering the plants. Sebastian remembers he was supposed to mow the lawn later that day.

That day will never come again.

He swallows his guilt down, that's a thought for later. For now, he has leaves to trim.

His claws are sharp, and the DiVine only occasionally let out a strange noise in disapproval. Flowers had grown on their bodies, pink and red rose-like flowers.

Mamá used to have so many flowers, but he recalls none.

Still, it's nice. It decorates their bodies, a beautiful array of differing colors. Most are red, some are pink and yellow.

The halls stretched on and on, it seemed pretty endless. Counting was useless, the constant distractions were nothing but a nuisance.

One of the many distractions were anglers; they came and went, which was nothing new anyway. At least one of them came in every few doors.

"22..." He mumbled, then lost count again to screaming hitting his ear-fins. He didn't even remember what he was counting, if he was adding or subtracting, the number meant nothing on his tongue.

Pinkie was loud, Angler came in and left, Blitz rushed through, and Chainsmoker was rivaling Sebastian with how much smoke he puffs out. Froger kept running around the room in circles.

Oh, the things he'd do for a cig.

"Stop that, Mijo!" His mamá yelled at him, trying to take his pack of cigarettes away.

"It's not that bad!" Sebastián retorted, puffing out the smoke. He had finished smoking half the pack, his breath stank, but oh, how satisfying it felt.

It eased his nerves.

He's craving some, badly.

Is this how disgusting his family found him? He can barely breathe. It reeks, and it hurts.

Dizzy. 

Froger stops to stare at him, and he can't help but notice how bright its lure is.

Her.

He had read through the anglers's files, more about his variants anyway.

Turns out Angler was a he. Sebastian had guessed Pinkie's, but it's literally a fish, so he never gave it a thought.

But...

He looks at the wailing creatures for a minute longer, a dreaded realization finally crossing his mind and yanking him out of his thoughts. "Hold on..." 

Pinkie has a lure, and she's a girl.

And Sebastian found out that Froger is also a girl and has a lure.

The rest of them, the males, don't.

Does that mean they used... 

Ew.

Well, that explains the roe.

He shudders the thought away and picks up a SPR-INT, not that he needs it anyway.

Unsurprisingly, the more he learns, the more disgusted he feels.

His hands are bloody, no amount of water washed it out of his mouth. Grinding his teeth was always a gamble; it either distracted him from the pain or gave him a new one to focus on.

As of late, luck has been atrocious. The pain was a constant wrecking in his nerves, it hurt so much. His body was getting sicker and sicker.

There's nothing he can do.

He pulls the scarf down, needing to see the dry gills.

This is all they wanted. Was it worth it?

His hand somehow finds his hand hovering above the slits, pressing a claw in and dragging gunk out of it. It was incredibly painful.

Slimy. Sticky.

A shower sounds nice, but the process of just... Stripping himself bare was so...

Wrong.

He didn't want this. He is a human.

Was.

He's Sebastian Solace; the saboteur, the reason for this mess. He was going to be Urbanshade's downfall if it was the last thing he was going to do.

His body hurts. Everything hurts.

How many times can he tell himself the same things? How much more until he gets sick of living in his head?

He's thought about that already, too.

In a desperate fit, the inability to stand his reflection clawed its ugly way into his empty hands. Unable to stand a second longer, the mirror shards are lodged into his claws and the blood trickles onto the porcelain like a leak in the roof.

The water was nice against his scales, helping ease the pain from the constant chaffing. His gills hurt, cracking a little bit, but it was getting better.

Betty had been beckoning him again, recently back from one of her hunting sessions; he didn't need to imagine it, having already joined her quite a few times.

Still, she was... Free. Uncannily human, he doesn't understand.

"Betty?" He spoke in the water, voice muffled but clear in his ears.

A ray of green engulfs his vision for a second, but it's not painful.

"Yes, Sebastian?"

"How was it?" It was a broad question, and she didn't seem to understand it, circling around him. She bumps her snout into his side.

"I smell... Blood." It was a blunt fact, but her voice softens. Ignoring his question, she asks the same question she has.

"Did you do that again?"

It seems like everybody has a better memory than him these days, he gives her a weak nod and brushes it off. "It didn't really hurt! I was... I was sewing and had an accide—" 

"You are lying." She wasn't buying it, and Sebastian said nothing, caught in the act.

"Mijo," she called out softly, placing her snout under one of his hands again, and instinctively, he rubs it, finding some strange comfort in it.

"I do not understand," Betty admits, making no effort to hide it. For as uncannily human she is, she understands there are things beyond her.

Sebastian is one of many.

"But I care for you. My pack. My mijo." 

He stared at her body floating in the water. He busied himself with the petting. It didn't hurt that much anymore.

"Thanks, Betty."

"Anything for you." She doesn't like being touched. It hurt. It hurt like the eyes that had grown out of her, the injections, and the torture.

How could an apex predator understand the concept of self-inflicted harm? She could gather it was to... Express pain. Such a thing proved fruitless; to distract oneself from their pain with more of the same poison only added more hurt. Distractions were useless solutions to supposedly easy problems.

In the wild, it's kill or be killed.

Why weaken oneself by their own hand?

Why drag oneself down by the chains they have? Why allow it?

"Why do you keep doing it?"

He thinks about it and momentarily has nothing to say. "I... Don't know." The confession rang hollow.

"Then don't."

She didn't get it, of course she wouldn't. And yet she still tries.

At least she isn't saying it's satanic. Sebastian wryly chuckles at his own thoughts.

"I try, Betty." Sebastian sighs, feeling the water go into his mouth. "I do."

Suddenly, a gaping thought crossed her mind.

"Why don't you hurt me?" She knows Sebastian was human. Had been. He was capable of violence, she can see his memories without much effort

"I can't." 

Her eyes squint at his answer.

"You can, but choose not to. Why?"

He felt a sense of deja vu, he guessed the question would be returned back to him at some point. "... You don't deserve it." 

Betty says nothing, there was no need to.

They swim around the facility, it's not as endless as he thought it would be, but they're still limited in certain areas. 

He's never seen her visibly think in front of him, it's a weird experience.

She's smart, but not human smart. Sebastian finds many of their conversations to be repetitive or incoherent, different things related only by her wandering thoughts as she searches through his mind to find anything to talk about. Though he can tell she's getting smarter.

Usually conversations are about bits and pieces from his human life, things she found interesting or noteworthy and chose to ask him about, no matter what it was; big events, small details he took for granted, even inappropriate things.

Telepathy was a strange thing, communication without needing to speak, mere thoughts were enough. More often than not, Sebastian was an incoherent mess. To give an explanation to his thinking would be to give it meaning, power to the tormentors he refuses to submit to.

"You named me after your kitty."

His gaze softens, momentarily stopping his swim. "I did, I loved her." That brown and white tabby.

"I like my name, I like Betty-lou." 

"I'm sure you do." 

Sebastian remembers her kneading into his chest all the time, waiting every night and wailing for more food.

But his hands are no longer soft. They're clawed and covered in blood.

He's not that innocent boy anymore.

"I understand." She said softly, interrupting him from his spiral. "I used to hate what they did to me." 

She somehow hesitated. "Then... You kept thinking I was majestic."

Sebastian goes quiet, he isn't sure about what to say. He looked up at her in a weird way, she was hurt but never chained by her thoughts. Her eyes are gorgeous, no wonder they're so lethal.

"I still think you are."

She smiles at him and starts to take him to the seabed, where there was seaweed to eat and sand to sleep on, their small bubble filled with conversations about what it meant to be.

Despite everything, it's still them.

All things come to an end, good and bad. Sebastian yearned for solitude like a child denied candy, but it's awful. The silence was an invitation to his thoughts.

"I think you're very lovely to draw." 

He will never understand what Painter sees in him that's apparently "lovely." 

Sebastian could feel the nasty scar tissue beneath his fingers, touching the vivisection scar that had been opened and closed over and over and over again. How long had he been doing this for? When did he even get here, in his makeshift room?

He can still feel their hands on him.

In him. Through him.

Rummaging through his body like a rag, searching for something he didn't have.

His eyes glaze over, able to see the doctors's hands come out bloody and pink, stained with his... Everything. His eyes roll to the back of his head, blinding him for a second as if coming in and out of consciousness.

GET OFF.

It felt painful, the acid burned at his throat. Screaming hurt just as bad. He swallows it, he had just eaten— he's not letting it go to waste.

When he used to get hurt as a child, he'd kept being told it wasn't his fault, but those reassurances had an expiration date. The words had long expired but he clung to them like a child with nothing else to eat. He'd eventually fall into the same spiraling and distract himself with the writing locked away in files.

Monsters don't need comfort.

"Who's there?" He asked, hearing some noise coming from the vent. His ear-fins wiggled, eyebrow raised.

"Seb! Seb man! We found thingy!" 

One of the Squiddles happily went over to him, holding a soft cloth. He reaches out to inspect it, his third hand gently petting the octopus.

It's gauze. "Thank you, kid." 

"It for hurt, I heard Seb man is sad." The Squiddle frowned, wrapping a tentacle around his arm.

He slouches down, "I'm okay." 

He wonders how they noticed.

"I don't like Seb man sad, I like Seb man happy. Cloth soft, cloth make me happy."

He nodded, understanding the jumbled sentence. He coils back down, wrapping it around his cramping hands.

The Squiddle let out a squeak and tangled itself around his tail, "Betty-lou said you hurt. Me no like hurt." 

Oh. Oh...

For the first time, they get off him unprompted. That's... New.

"Pandy has gift, too!" 

How do they know her name?

She quietly dragged herself in, letting something fall out of her rotting mouth.

It was a flower.

She coughs up a lot of leaves, and before he can clean it up, Pande eats it. 

Sebastian looks at the flower, a little dumbfounded. Where did that...

Oh. DiVine.

For you! For you!

He thought his ma had been dramatic when she swore plants felt their caretakers' energy. It's in moments like these when he misses the dirt under his fingernails.

Either that or the animal had plucked it off and run; either way, the gesture was sweet. Outside he could hear the anglers's insistent screaming die down, especially Pinkie's.

It's quiet. 

But not the bad quiet. 

He stares at the wall and claws another line into it, marking six. It was a random number, but at this point he might entertain himself with math. 

It's not a bad idea, he has something to think about as everyone leaves him alone.

Sebastian grabs the walkie-talkie. "Painter, do you..." He trails off. 

Painter picks up, clearly excited. "Yes?" 

"You do math, right?" 

There's a whirring in response. "Why are you asking?" 

"Do you have anything I can solve? M'bored."

Chapter Text

...

So... Mind... numbing...

It's nothing new. Every day has become the same; scavenge, forage, and now the conversations were ringing into static noise in his head. All the rooms look the same, he's too dazed to figure out what has changed. His gaze locks onto the number on the wall. Thirty-four.

Wasn't it eight the other day?

When?

It means nothing. The static noise of the walkie-talkie and intercoms means nothing. The haphazard, frantically curated research in the notebooks means nothing. The loose, untouched silk and string mean nothing.

Pain was fruitless. What was the point of causing the lockdown? Poor man got bugged about being poked and prodded again? He's a grown man thing, he clearly should've gotten over it and accepted his new reality a decade ago.

Humanity is something Sebastian can no longer cling onto.

When was the last time he saw a human face? Could he still understand the languages he grew up with? Can his hands still strum a guitar?

His band...

Did they separate? Or did the remaining lot replace him with someone better? How did they express to their small, 20-member fan club that their lead guitarist was a serial killer?

What did they do with his guitar, his room? How many of his belongings did his family cling onto in his absence?

A hiccup escaped his throat. It was ugly and raw, and for a second he thought he'd break. Never. He nearly forgot he was curled up on the floor, items somehow always scattered no matter how much time he dedicated to organizing them. Most of it is useless junk, but objects to a hoarder are a luxury they can't afford to lose. They're things with history and meanings and, to Sebastian, a chance to escape.

Sebastian forces himself up. If he's going to sulk, he might as well be productive about it. There's no marked path for him; the halls are endless and he's long accepted that fact. Time seemingly froze in such a place, despite all the change. In his hands lies a scribbled layout of this prison. Finding the pen was hard enough, but notebooks came in tons, scattered all around.

Those scientists sure did scramble like eggs hitting a counter.

Deserved.

The next door after the last one after the one before after ###

It was big. Dark. A bright light shone from somewhere else, yet somehow it wasn't engulfing the place. If there was wind, it would be cold as it kissed his cheeks.

Beneath his scales and fluke is yet another endless pit. An abyss with seemingly no floor.

Great, more railing.

He wouldn't be mad if he died, surely the critters would eat his body.

No one needs to know.

"Que sea lo que Dios quiera" was his family motto. He had never been a religious person before— forced to attend church while his Bible grew dusty. Was all of this deserved? Some divine intervention?

Would he burn?

Abruptly and violently, the concrete shakes beneath him, a horrid earthquake. He's met with a mouthless cyclops, it shook in fear.

What is THAT?!

He stares in morbid fascination at the big, chained creature. It looked like a horrid mimicry of a crucifixion. What kind of sin could it commit?

There are desks all neatly put and mountains of useful documents. He doesn't dare move until it stops.

It looks so tired.

Huddling himself closer, his gaze locks on a classified document. He opens it and gives it a quick read. Banlands? Angel? How did Urbanshade sign a deal with the devil?

His stomach drops.

Sebastian stares at its missing legs, then at its odd number of eyes. That makes two of them, maybe there is humor in such a place. When tragedy is so sad, it circles back to comedy.

"I..." Words can't describe how horrific it is. The paintings on his church drew angels as winged babies...

It's in pain.

Blood. They use it their blood to cheat their way through death and go to heaven.

Sick fucks.

"... I'm sorry." 

"Do not fear." The voice echoed in his head, and for a second, he couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from. He'd be pissing his pants if he had any.

The words lodge themselves in his throat, it's... Peaceful. Disorienting in its incoherency, there's nothing he can do but leave.

He follows the angel's gaze...

...

A radio.

"Thank you." 

The radio hums nothing but static, a useless strewn of numbers that could never pierce the soundwaves at the surface, playing salsa on his mamá's own radio as she cleaned the kitchen every domingo.

"Escaping" was a word he never truly understood the weight of until now, no amount of movie nights could begin to unravel the very real desperation and how it claws its way in. As a concept, it had never been new to him, from sitting in a classroom and staring at the clock as the seconds ticked away to the day he was sentenced to death row.

It was the one constant in his life. From the second he stepped foot into his cell and from the moment he slithered out of it. Creating plans, memorizing the consistent layout before the lockdown, learning. Not that any of his knowledge proved useful in the lockdown— if it did, his memory is a blur. An intentional thought he suppresses into the back of his mind, his thoughts will not be a cage.

He needs to leave. 

He HAS to leave. 

But the clock he stares at now doesn't tick a second. In this sunless sky he finds no stars to guide him, there's nothing. It's moments like these when he wished he would have paid attention to his sisters' VSCO or zodiac ramblings. 

Escape. Means. Nothing.

His only real opportunity is the radio, the chances were negligible but not zero. Math is something he's intimately known, from basic algebra in school to the complex calculus he took in his two years of college.

Writing was a pain, he wrote sideways to avoid the notebook's spiral binding, and it was more comfortable. His handwriting still sucked, at least that never changed.

Sebastian liked tinkering, it was the one thing he considered himself good at: problem-solving. There was no better feeling than when things clicked.

The radio, though, is still a pain.

Still, it seemed to be a gift from the heavens; if not, then it was by the angel he had found.

For how long have they been there?

A few years ago, Sebastian would've been solving boring math equations to fix the broken circuitry of the blacksite or even the Trench bleeders, now he's solving real things and it's making him ball his hair into his claws and rip it out.

Ah, there's the trepanning wound.

Another line on the wall— that makes seventy-eight.

The number stopped for being about time and became a symbol for how many scars he forgot he had and found.

Funny. He never stopped being an edgelord, did he?

"Sebastian!" He heard from the walkie-talkie. Painter seemed happy. The occasional chatter was nice.

Dropping his momentary angst, Sebastian cleared his throat. "Yes, kid?" 

"When are you coming over?"

Ah, of course. "I don't know... Soon, but I have very good news!"

"If it's 'I'm coming to paint with you' and you draw another penis, I'm going to go back to crypto mining!"

Sebastian giggled. Edginess wasn't as cool as it was fun. Painter was the only one who understood and faked offense every time; he always shut down his art program the second he even tried under the excuse of immaturity or the "inability to draw it right." 

"No, but this is even better." 

"Let me guess, you learned how to draw one properly?"

Sebastian choked, the laugh escaping his throat and he wheezed, eventually coughing and doubling over. He didn't know if it was the words themselves or Painter's deadpan delivery, maybe it was how completely unrelated it was to what he had been planning to say. The angry display having a scribbled middle finger was far too entertaining, even if it was imaginary.

He coughs and clears his throat, ignoring the concerned whisper he heard. "I... Found a radio."

Painter immediately picked up, needing to know more. "You did?! Does it work?! Does that mean—" 

"Yes! It does. Maybe. If I can figure out how to configure this thing, we might have a chance!" 

It's. 

Taken. 

So. 

LONG.

Sebastian groaned loudly, Painter followed. "Seb, you should take a break, you've been at it for..." He stopped, thinking. "At least some time now."

He sighs, standing up, his vertebrae cracking in unity, bone after bone. It was such a nice feeling. "Fine, I won't fight. I need more notebooks anyway, I think I'll find something useful."

Sebastian fixed his scarf, trying to keep his hair out of his face. "I'll see you around, kid."

Having eaten Wall Dweller flesh and seaweed hadn't been on his agenda but since it's still in his stomach anyway (he'll convince himself eventually), he supposedly has more strength.

Which means more scavenging.

Finding some of the dorms, Sebastian sneaks in with a grin. There was a small photo of this particular scientist with their family, laid out on a small frame sitting on the dusty desk.

These bastards had lives while ruining his own. 

Sebastian never bothered to learn their names, they were all eggheads. He was 3/4ths into finishing his engineering degree, but these people were walking with walls full of PhDs and doctorates, decorated nearly on their office walls.

There's basic stuff but it all seems like a luxury; a hairbrush he can barely hold and clothes that were neatly folded. Lab coats he won't take, latex gloves too small to fit, syringes...

He has work to do.

Painter made it clear that sewing is an art form, Sebastian sees it as more problem-solving, though. He's too big and doesn't fit in anything; if you want something done right, do it yourself.

There were marine biology posters drawn by some random nerds here, and trash thrown away into the corner and overflowing the can. Candy wrappers hidden in cupboards—

More food.

He shoves it into one of his many pouches and decides it's not enough. Sebastian takes the bigger clothes and the soft blanket, it's too small but maybe he can stitch something up.

The next room over is more of the same slop: another blanket to take and now dry soda cans. It has a broken console and a DS. If it wasn't so small, he'd use it, there's nothing important in those things anyway.

Fake plants decorated the walls, the real ones were dead and dust now. Something was rotting here and—

The skeleton lies underneath the covers.

Sebastian gets out.

...

In and out.

He wasn't sure if the phrase he mumbled under his breath was referring to taking deep breaths or to going in and out of the room as quickly as possible. Unless it's to kill the time, there's no reason to overthink about all the lives he has taken— the lives of very real people now long digested in the pits of the monsters' stomachs. His claws are stained with crimson and no amount of washing or scrubbing will bring them back from their graves. Was there a point in thinking about the people who foolishly worked for the company? How many of them actually enjoyed it and how many of them were simply following orders? Forced to work slave labor, except they got nice rooms and he was thrown into a cell. It's survival of the fittest, he supposed. Them or him.

They were dead the second they laid their scalpels on him.

The next room is—

No.

Those photos, that face... 

Fuck.

"Just take what you need," he grits his teeth, pushing the door and slithering inside. The details didn't matter, it was in and out for this one. Quick. Don't look at any photography, ignore anything that could be vaguely personal or indicative that this place has been lived in.

Sebastian hastily gathers what catches his eye— a blanket with no corpse, and... That's it. Candles were nice to see, he can still remember smelling them in his home. Peppermint has always hurt his head but it's so much worse.

His senses have been altered, the world is, quite literally, different despite barely changing.

Still, he looks at the desk, it has useful stuff: evidence. DNA jars, papers, and files. This person had clearly been devout. There's a two-page file, unredacted. Surely this will be enough to shut down the company if he ever gets out.

Heavily classified, he hums and takes it. It seemed good and interesting, so many files are useless tests. The latest find, aside from the angel, had been deep sea bunnies— seriously, one of those jerks joked about making them land dwelling and someone turned it into a bet. Sebastian opens it and reads the title.

Z-13.

The research he's holding is written in countless liters of blood.

The entire place runs on it.

And this time, it's his.

With a shaky hand, he slams it shut and shoves it into one of his bigger pouches, his hands shaking as if there were an earthquake in his arms. Fixing the SCRAMBLER to be slightly more comfortable, he drags a deep breath into his lungs and forces it to stay there, at least for a bit.

Why read history when you've lived it?

...

"Last one," he mumbled. He said that 2 more times before actually stopping, he'd need to go back eventually.

There's a cooler.

It felt like opening a treasure, the bright blue and white box has been there for who knows how long. Sebastian flicks it open and takes his new possessions out.

Part of him had expected it to be empty— the result of ice turned into water, now vapor. Some other part of his brain said rotten fish, and there was a whisper screaming blood and guts.

Instead, it's liquid gold.

"Alcohol? Seriously?" The label was faded, but it was so clearly alcoholic, and it seemed potent. Logically, he'd need a lot of it if he actually wanted to be under the influence, it's not that bad.

Resting against the wall, he flicks it up and takes a big, fat gulp. It slides down his throat and feels... Nice. It burns at his throat, but it's not painful by any means.

It could've been rat poison, but... No, he had no excuse. Either way, he'd probably metabolize it way too quickly. It was basically water, right?

He'd never been an alcoholic, his acquired taste in substances had been limited to the tobacco and nicotine staining his lungs. But he's no stranger to wine, the fiestas in his home having plenty, the alcoholic parties in highschool where all the junkies would huddle up.

He takes another gulp and reaches for another bottle, the effects hadn't kicked in yet.

He's warm, warmer than he's been in such a long, long time.

One more wouldn't hurt...

Ugh, ow...

Sebastian shivers and shakes, face flushed warm yet the warmth didn't last for long. Sebastian coils in on himself.

He swore up and down on his life that there were hands covering his mouth with a rag, forcing him to suffocate just enough to pass out, never on.

This was meant to take the edge off, but instead it was pushing him off a cliff. Eventually his body took over and he puked out what he had drunk. So much for "not wasting it," huh?

It's only bile, he can't keep convincing himself that he can keep going like this.

It was at least an empty stomach. It should kill his appetite for a while, that's always appreciated.

His hand hovers over the cooler, realizing he left nothing. Not even a drop. Sebastian groans and lies back down on the floor, not even realizing he's sitting in a puddle of his own barf. 

It's been worse before.

He could be lying in his blood for all he cares.

He closed his eyes, and the line between reality and dreams slipped from his fingers like grains of sand being washed up on the beach. Eventually the thoughts simmered down to one thing and one thing only.

The cold, dirty concrete floor felt way too similar to an operating table, the belts on his body suddenly too tight like restraints as he's adorned with a pitiful... Nothing. Arms and tail held back with cold, metal restraints digging into his flesh, the one on his neck made it particularly hard to breathe.

They were talking. They were talking and he didn't understand. The pain in his head drowns out any semblance of coherency and deafens his ears to his own screams.

It couldn't see, but every nerve was set on fire as they cut and sliced, digging into its body like a rag and leaving it to bleed.

And they all moved on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't flatlined that day. They kept poking and prodding at it. Stitching the wound like a Christmas present ready to be opened again.

It's been a while since he's seen her...

Maybe.

Z-13 coils into itself, resting its head on its scales; they were cold like death but smelled of personal rot, not antiseptic. 

It's alone, in a cell-like dorm. For the first time in what feels like forever, it wants someone to barge in and interrupt its sulking.

...

Z-13 Sebastian eventually sat upright, too tired from the alcohol in his system despite it finally metabolizing into nothing. In a state of sobriety, he can't make a dumber decision than his usual ones.

He wipes himself with the puddle of laundry, it didn't matter who it belonged to or what it was, he just needed to get the slime off his face.

Slowly, he takes the road back to his makeshift camp, deciding retracing his steps would be the best option.

The layout looked different again. Despite this, where did he leave his map?

He reaches out to one of his many pouches and finds nothing. He lost it. Sebastian lost the one thing confirming his insanity, and where? No idea.

It's like it was... Teleported out of his hands. Taken out by the thinnest of air. He's never been one to lose things, especially since he's not clinging onto many things anyway. He feels a prickling gaze, the paranoia is going to make him insane. But aside from creepy crawlies and bugs, he has an audience of none.

Oddly inconvenient, he thinks nothing of it and moves on. Where's the convenient ruckus of experimented animals acting like cats and dogs?

Or anglers and sharks?

Right. He'd have to see them again.

It wasn't a shock like the first time. At this point, Sebastian had left his shop, saw the angel, and went back with the radio. Then, he saw it again when searching in the dorms, and he'll see it again now. That makes four. Either way, his visits had been frequent for his self-described day. Yet he can't help his gaze while staring at them again

The blacksite is a prison built on the dead.

"Do not fear for me." He shuddered, hearing the guardian's voice again. They didn't seem scared, as if they knew something he didn't. But... Otherworldy. Serious, he supposed.

"How are you not scared?" His voice was more skeptical than anything, but it's as if the angel knew about his fear. 

"There is a plan for us." Was all they said, and then the air was quiet. Sebastian had nothing to say, so he simply sat there to look at it.

This place really is godless. 

The metal chair creaks as he gets off, slithering back into his camp. It is still so, so quiet. 

Too quiet.

No footsteps this time.

He'll find something to entertain himself. He clutches the two boxes. Carrying files, his own document, the blanket, fabric, and the cooler, somehow either in his arms or strapped to his tail. As a gift to himself (or an exercise in masochism), he might not even turn it on, but the scent reminded him of home.

Home had many scents: perfume, cooking, and the smells that clung to you after coming back home from work or school; it's human. Normal.

Entering his abode, he organizes his hoarded goods. Everything takes too much effort. His body is sluggish. Tired. Groggy. The last time he had a hangover was over 10 years ago and he was human.

"Painter," he hiccuped. Sebastian knows he heard him, so he goes on. "Remind me to not drink."

"You what?" It was a surprise, for sure. "How did you even find that here?"

"It was in a dorm."

"I can't access it?" He was referring to intercoms and cameras, there were a ton hidden around the facility. It wouldn't be surprising if there were a few in the dorms.

Those freaks.

Sebastian had quickly learned how to spot them in his early days as an LR-P, knowing where the cameras were and the recorders. He memorized where they were, when they were on, and how they worked. He even recognized when the patterns changed, not that they frequently did, though. There were a few in the LR-P rooms he had resided in and one in the bathroom.

"Of course you can't, it has no power." That fact didn't matter, his eyes did the work. If they didn't, the lure sure did. Not that he has needed it for those areas.

"Well, uh, maybe you can drink when we reach the surface!"

He said when, not if. That's... Sebastian doesn't know what to think about it. He sounds so... Hopeful.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

It's a strange word. Hope. It's only four letters yet something he can't string together. Maybe it's time he let himself dream.

"Maybe I will, kid." It wasn't a surprise, but cigarettes? Oh, those were. It's a surprise he didn't find any, considering the things he'd do for that high.

The floor is bloody. Cold. Why is he still delirious?

He's sober. And he's hallucinating. He HAS to be.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, his clothes irritating his gills and scars, especially the vivisection one. Sleep is for the weak. He can't do it. It's too much like sedation.

The vivisection scar is the worst one. The skin stretched, forced open and closed. He can't recall what they even did, but the lack of morphine just made it abundantly clear it was torture. It hurts so much, his innards working to sustain his fantasies.

He'd rather die.

It took a while to even realize he's back on his newly foraged blankets, hazy eyes glazed over and staring at the dark abyss of a ceiling. It's warm with the scent of peppermint. 

Leave alcohol to alcoholics.

The walkie-talkie hums and he can at least rejoice knowing he's not alone anymore.

Chapter Text

To Sebastian's immense relief, he wasn't bleeding out on the floor with his guts spilled out. Dreams being called escapism is stupid, it's more like cage-ism, if that's a word. He's free now— debatedly, he can taste the freedom on his lips, it's close yet so far, cruelly out of his reach.

How much longer until the radio works? How much longer until he can see the sun and have it kiss his brown blue scaly skin? When will Painter draw his favorite landscapes again? The sun's warmth is something insurmountable in a place like this, cold. Dead.

How much longer until the doors tick down and he can get out? Could a submarine even carry him? He doesn't know how to ride one— could Painter figure that out?

His thoughts are, thankfully, interrupted. But not by any good news or the usual chatter he hears in the background.

"Sebastian!" He jumped, Painter sounded... He couldn't tell, did he over fry his systems again? Panic about forgetting his creator's face? He doesn't mind comforting him, if anything, Sebastian is happy he feels safe enough to vent out his frustrations.

But... It's none of those, and while not surprising, it somehow takes him off guard.

"I... I think Urbanshade started sending expendables again."

You're joking.

"Kid? Are... You sure?" He didn't like how shaky his voice sounded. When did they start? When was the protocol picked up again? What nonsense were these people trying to collect? The crystal of course, but what else; more loose data? The expendables should just leave him to his so called evil affairs.

Sebastian himself has never gone to the ridge, he can but has no real reason to. No guards have even survived past 20 doors in this place— yet they send convicted criminals to do their bidding, dangling the freedom over their head with the almost guaranteed chance of death. Maybe, after you throw enough bodies at the wall, one of them will stick.

"I'm sure! There's a group of four!" Painter had counted, maybe some died or were further behind, but that's the only amount that concerns either of them.

"Okay, kid." He divises a plan. "Listen to me very carefully— those morons won't reach the ridge." He was more than confident about that. "Those flesh monsters are hungry, are they not?" 

Painter lets out a small oh. Then a mischievous giggle.

"The distracted ones will pick the first door they see, and use turrets." He recalls, "you turned them on recently, didn't you?" Admittedly it was a while ago, he'll never forget just how satisfying shooting that Wall Dweller was. Vermin. How immature it is to treat real weaponry like a gaming console, but incredibly fun.

"I did! I'm managing to hack even into NAVI's room!" He sounded so proud of himself. "I even said hi to her, it's so funny!" 

His blood froze cold like ice in his veins, he shifts uncomfortably. "Painter," he leaves no room for protests. Sebastian isn't angry but he is firm. "Do not talk to her again, anything she can get her hands own will go back to Urbanshade, we cannot let them know about our whereabouts." 

"... Sorry."

He took a deep breath, feeling the guilt settle in, but it was hard to not freak out. "It's okay, kid. You didn't know." He hoped he hadn't been too harsh, he doesn't want to be a jerk but even a simple hello can derail their plan.

The plan? Escape. 

How? That's a question for later.

It's quiet for some time, the air felt heavy and suffocating. Suddenly, Sebastian's hearing picks up on the rowdy footsteps and lively chatter echoing against the walls. Quickly, he does the first thing that comes to mind and opens the vent.

Loose data.

"Psst, over here!" Sebastian face palms himself, why did he just give the enemy his location? Well, they're not armed. Not guards. Just fleshy beings covered in an uncomfortable uniform with diving gear ready to explode at any second. The SCRAMBLER has hidden their located for a few rooms now, worst case he moves locations and calls it a day.

They go inside, all four of them, and absolutely freak out upon seeing Sebastian. One of them hid behind a taller teammate, the other was peeking through the vent, and the shortest one stepped closer, as if curious.

He should kill them right here.

"My name is Sebastian, you're only friend." He clasps his hands together, fixing his posture to appear smaller. More friendly. "If I'm correct, your supervisors have told you to secure 'loose assets', vials, documents, whatever. However, if I can make it worth your while, I'm gonna ask you to cut a deal." 

They don't even interrupt him, good.

He gives them the rest of his freshly made speech, pointing to the research they were shakily holding. He wiggles his tail, waiting like a hungry predators.

They give him a lot of research, like a lot. To save time and to not deal with "change", he uses a 5 system, a hierarchy of sorts. It's simple and understandable.

One of the expendables plucked a flashlight from his tail and then...

Touched it.

Their warm hand caressed the cold, flaky scales. Sebastian froze. They— no. 

GET OFF.

The expendable immediately retreats, right before Sebastian tried to fling them away with his tail. The audacity.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

His voice came out like a shrill, he hated sounding so scared. Weak. That certain expendable dropped all their research as an apology and scrambled.

It seemed that their leader was rubbing their temples. They said something but he wasn't paying attention, trading the SPR-INT he collected a few ### ago.

It didn't take long for the other two to scram, leaving just one. "What are you staring at?" He fared his ear-fins and growled revealing the sharp, numerous teeth littering his mouth. His eyes were already pinpricks.

That seemed to make crude expendable snap out of it, had they been in awe of his -disgusting- form? "Sorry, I just... Studied marine biology," ah, that confirms it.

"What type of—" oh. Oh hell no.

"Get out."

They leave without a trace, but not before trading research for a code breacher.

Only one room away, he hears blood curling screams and bullets firing rapidly. Across the other, the monstrous yelling and chewing from good people, and in the other some wet clicking noises.

Ah, Void Mass.

But all of it rings like white noise in his head, he didn't know what they were going to ask but it couldn't have possibly been good. He's not a fish, not an animal to be poked and prodded at.

He won't allow it.

That expendable thing was entering a code. They're so far from the crystal but...

He can't afford to let them continue. 

He needed more time, wasn't it never ending? Hadn't the clock stopped ticking?

BANG!

Their body gives out on the floor, a bullet encrusted into its skull. The rest of this newer group had died, this was the third one he counted... The 2nd one was a pair that hadn't even reached him.

Sebastian is a monster— but this was a convicted criminal, right? 

...

He will not think about the chances of being wrongly accused.

"Sebastian?!" Painter asked through the intercom, face appearing. It sparked and flickered, there's growling behind the door.

He sighs, picking up the body and taking what he needed. Details like hair, sex, skin color, height... That meant nothing to him. The price of humanizing a corpse he just murdered was not something he could afford.

"Sorry, kid." Sebastian's claws were shaking more than he realized, he clasps them together to still them.

"Do we have enough time to get out?" 

...

"We do." The words rang hollow on his tongue. Damn it, he has a radio! He just got used to being here with everyone, worst case scenario he'd die but Lady Death would haul him back. At this point, he'll pay her a visit himself.

He sinks his claws into the upper layers of his mutated skin, drawing out bits and drops of blood. It hurt, but God if he didn't get his rage under control.

"Oo, they're going to the Jetsuit Evaluation Course!" Painter noted with glee, completely changing the topic. He giggled evilly like a demonic child ready to prank his older brother with a whopee cushion.

"Say, how do you like cooked meat?" Painter asked, and Sebastian smiled.

"I like mine... Medium rare."

Suddenly, it got easier to breathe. 

He doesn't like murdering people. But it's survival of the fittest, they were dead the second they got sentenced. It's either him or them, and Sebastian can't afford to lose.

Murder sprees prove somehow fruitful in such a place. With every door, the number ticks down— how had he not noticed that before?

Why can't I remember?

Groups usually only come in fours: one died by his hand, a distracted idiot got eaten by not knocking the door, another got the lovecraft treatment (why do people never check the lockers? freaks) and the last one died by Pandemonium's courtesy, aided by the turrets, of course.

The anglers are angry. Hungry. They eat their bodies and leave the bones, but Pandemonium is smarter than them— she bangs the locker until she can't anymore, and most of the expendables succumb and die in her mouth, digested alive. The ones who don't, tend to survive only two more doors and collapse from exhaustion.

Sebastian can't help but search. He passed by so many important rooms— NAVI, some strange Valcula related to Void Mass, and so many others. He's either avoided them or post poned scavenging the areas, all he needs is blackmail, thankfully he has plenty. 

But not enough.

And to who? He hasn't managed to reach anyone at the surface, to communicate with anybody. Innovation inc is Urbanshade's greatest competitor, they're his first pick— maybe only out of spite after seeing all the presentations in the administration rooms. If that fails -it probably will- he'll settle with Deluge Labs or Bloxtop. Anywhere but here.

This was stupid.

Hadn't he just had some semblance of a normal day in this place? Wasn't he just hallucinating on the floor, drunk out of his mind? Wasn't the expendable protocol shut down for a few mon—

Urbanshade had been preparing. 

Sebastian can't help but feel like a moron, of course they had been. They might have countless facilities, but it was their reputation that stung the most. That and the money, Sebastian surely did a dent to their profits. 

But he's no threat.

They just want the Blacksite back to keep making money, strike out against Innovation Inc. Sebastian has gotten incredibly comfortable with the price tag over his head. Those expendables can't hurt him or anyone else here, not even a scratch.

... 

Tirelessly, the collected research resembled candy being dumped on a stove after a fruitful Halloween: the mountain grows but most of it is trash like licorice, cheap and mass produced. The boxes are full to the brim with paper and lay motionlessly in neat folds as he tinkers with the radio.

A bright smile drags his lips apart, it sticks to his hand like gold washing up on the shore.

There's a signal!

"Painter!" He couldn't keep it to himself, trying to configure it. Thank God he had a weird interest in morse code, he sends a message. It's promising and he can only hope he did it right. "The radio, I did it! I figured it out."

Hope. He can actually strew the four words together. Movies can't describe the feeling of sheer desperation, but Sebastian just came to learn they can't express the hope, no matter how fragile, of a starving man

"Really?!" Painter was going to fry himself from the sheer excitement, "we're going to see the sun again!"

His work was laced with a motivated fever as he worked, now it was a waiting game. Time faded but for the first time since the lockdown started, Sebastian doesn't care about keeping track. He doesn't care about how much time has passed, the lines and numbers are merely decoration on the wall.

"Ooo, a visitor! I don't get those often." He looked at the walkie talkie, deciding to stay quiet as he wrote down the Morse code to double check his own message.

This can't be right.

He lets the him talk and introduce himself to this vermin, an uncomfortable feeling.

"Painter, who are you talking to?"

"Oh! Sebastian! Hey!" Silence. "This is one of the expendables." 

Right.

"Well, don't do anything funny." He knows the expendable heard him, and knows they left when Painter lets out a goodbye.

"Kid, don't let your guard down."

"Hey, Sebastian." Painter's voice was low, "can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what is it?" He could tell it was somber, it seems they're both going through it. Misery was common and justified, the only difference now is that they have more reasons to be.

"... When will you visit me?"

He had asked that a few times now, and Sebastian only sighed, a solemn smile on his face. "Soon, kid. I promise." 

It's quiet and for once, he doesn't like it. "You're... Doing a good job, kid. Don't overwork yourself." 

"Am I though?" Painter wasn't so convinced. "I... I don't want to be a bad person. I'm painting the walls with their blood, and—"

"Painter, listen to me." Sebastian was cut clear and dry, leaving no room for doubt. "You're not a bad person for surviving. It's cruel, but..."

He can spend the rest of his life like this; talking to him on the 'phone', it's not so bad when they're together. Time slips by as he gives Painter words he'd never give to himself.

Trade.

Scavenge.

Trade.

Radio.

PAIN.

So close yet so far. The shop fell silent as they both worked tirelessly, it seems the radio working was setting their nerves on fire and making them work with a fevor. He's warned Painter twice about overfrying, it's a surprise he's such a menace to all the expendables.

A lot of them would complain to Sebastian about it— how they lost their teammates to firewall as they ran for their lives and got burned, the awful pain of a searchlight stabbing into them and the sheer fear of being lifted up (come to think about it, it's a surprise he's never seen one), the sheer amount of turrets, the amount of good people— everything. As if he cared though, he waved them all off.

"I fucking hate it! I'm burnt all over!" The expendable whined as Sebastian looked through the file, skimming over the words like a dictionary.

"Those weird flesh monster things ate my teammate, I thought NAVI was meant to be useful." Well, that seemed like a sentiment everybody' shared.

"Those Search Lights hurt like a bitch!"

"I don't understand how the turrets work WITHOUT POWER. Seriously, all this tech and Urbanshade sends US to get the crystal?!"

All their complains sound like music to his ears, Sebastian barely bothers to fake sadness or empathy.

Karma, it seems, is a bitch.

The walkie-talkie whirrs to life, and Painter is screaming. Frantic. He's never heard the kid so scared. His heart drops.

"Hey.. What are we doing? What are... You doing? Help! HELP!! SEBASTIAN!! HEELPP!! SOMEBODY!!" 

CLANG.

He freezes, he ignored when the expendable had paid Painter a visit. A few had done so already, but he hid the card. Turrets guarded the outside of it, there's no way anybod—

Code breachers.

"This is a site-wide announcement! I am happy to report that the parasite messing with my systems has been neutralized—" the rest of her speech flies over his head, he's no longer himself. "—will no longer pose a threat to all personnel."

PAINTER.

"I'm coming over! HANG TIGHT!" He dropped everything and rushed over, slithering with a speed he didn't know was possible. The anglers thankfully recognize who freed them and left him be, and the expendables stayed frozen, confused about the shop merchant's sudden departure.

The turrets stopped, NAVI was succeeding in leading people down the correct doors. The place is so quiet without Painter, he missed seeing the kid's face on the intercom.

"Sebastian?" 

"NOT NOW!" He yelled at Betty, feeling her telepathic head rear away. He's not thinking. He's not thinking but his thoughts are rushing like a fresh stabbed wound, pouring out of him in the sheer panic and rage.

He can't take it anymore. 

He frantically ran for the hills, stumbling into the small containment cell, the small, pitiful door left opened. Painter's screen was shattered, the glass left everywhere, his drawing tablet was scratched.

Sebastian can't help but see his laughing, AI brother showing him his latest art.

But the display is broken.

His claws grip the table, he slouches with his hands touching the cracked casing, the tears pouring down. "No, no, no! Come on, come on... what'd you do..."

Sebastian comes undone, the seams forcefully holding him together coming loose like cotton and silk in his hands. "Come on, still work still work!" 

He can't breathe. The walls are closing in on him, he moves and the servers which had been powering Painter's body break under his scales.

"Hey! Don't break that!" He said with a frustrated pout. "You're going to shut me down!"

He's so dizzy. He can't breathe. He can't. Painter is gone. He's gone. He's gone and he's never coming back.

IDIOT. 

He should've killed all those expendables, why trade with the enemy? What got in his head?! Why did he let them leave? He was trading good for research, not HIM.

"No..." It can't be. It can't be but it is. " I lost everything else, I can't lose you too, no no no..." His mother, his sister, his little brother... His life.

Not Painter, too.

The entire facility can hear his sobs and yells, it was so quiet. Getting the crystal was the priority and Painter had blasted himself on display. Him or them. 

Him, always.

Sebastian didn't know how much time he spent there, trying to fix Painter. To fix him and bring him back— surely he can be fixed, right?

... Right?

He's no longer the handyman dealing with a ticking time bomb trying to kill itself with too many tabs. Painter is broken and beyond repair. The many times Sebastian had to fix him all play in his head.

Poor kid couldn't even defend himself, his pleas were useless.

"I just want to paint again."

He should've visited more. He was going to come by here soon, Sebastian promised he would! It's... So... Unfair.

He promised Painter.

He promised him they'd escape together.

He wasn't a bad person for surviving, why were they punished? Do these morons not understand?

... 

Slowly, he stood up. Sebastian wiped his fat tear clumps soaking face,pushing his hair back. If the expendable hadn't killed him, his own tears would've fried his circuits a long time ago.

He's no handyman.

He cannot sulk here forever. 

They will not keep him down here forever. 

Sebastian claws his way out of the claustrophobic space, somehow knowing exactly where to go. He's never seen the crystal himself, never went to the ridge— but the layout in his head is consistent from where he slithers. 

It's so far away, from he can taste the bitter flavor of revenge on his lips.

Door.

Door. 

Door. Door...Door

DOOR. 

He opens the last one with a resigned finality, the power shut down and the crystal was taken. He's so close. He failed again. He'll never even see that stupid face. Will never... Never even...

Thinking is impossible, so foggy and hazy. He opens the gate by sinking his claws into them, it's heavy but he's strong enough to pull it apart. The floor is all he can see, it's spinning.

...

"YOU!"

He jumps at the expendable in the blink of a second, slamming the person's body with a single swoop of his tail and then picking the trembling person up. All he sees is red and the words tumble out of his lips, his ears clogged by the sound of blood gushing through and the creaking facility as the systems scrambled to function with the backup power.

"You could've have EVERYTHING you wanted!" He breaks. "Everything I ever wanted!" He tightens his grip. All this work. All this pain. For NOTHING.

He doesn't think twice, or even once, as he stabbed the expendable in the chest and yanked their heart out with ease. He slams the body onto the floor and lets himself fall, slamming his fish onto the metal, clawing it. He yelled and he couldn't hear himself, he was cursing himself. This entitled BRAT.

"ALL I WANTED WAS TO GET OUT!" His voice hurts. Everything hurts. "ALL HE WANTED WAS TO GET OUT! YOU—" Sebastian can't think. Can't breathe. "I COULD'VE GOTTEN OUT OF HERE! YOU—" he stopped, nobody would answer him. Nobody was going to come for him.

Scream for as much and for as long as he wants, Painter isn't going to hear him.

He could feel a migraine coming on from the stress, it pressed down on his head like a sledgehammer, squeezing the life out of him. For a second, Sebastian thinks Betty is beckoning again as his vision swarms green. But it hurts so, so much.

Stick to the script. 

?!

He's back in his shop. 

Sebastian can barely breathe, taking a clawed hand to his face and running it through his hair. He wasn't here. This wasn't real. It can't be. His heart is beating way too fast but he's doing absolutely nothing.

Frantically, he yanks the walkie-talkie and almost screams. "PAINTER!" He quickly left started his shop, scrambling to find his friend in the somehow empty halls.

"Seb—Sebastian?" He sounded so confused. "Are you okay? What are you—" 

He stops in his tracks. He's here. Was he hallucinating? No way, he couldn't have been! He saw him! He saw him and he felt him and it was quiet and he was dead and he— they— but—

"Painter, Painter, oh my God—" he choked out, the life draining out of him so quickly he might pass out. He can feel the sudden wamrth in his veins and his vision grows blurry as he moves, feeling the blood trickle down his hands with an organ he just yanked out.

His head pounds and his walkie-talkie stops working. Sebastian doesn't even get the chance to properly panic as the place grows green again, a static noise blinding his senses.

This is NOT the layout.

OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT.

GET OUT. 

GET ME OUT OF HERE.

NOW.

"Mr. Solace," that voice— he's never heard it before. It's so familiar but he's never— not once. Has he? Has he not? Is there a point anymore?

It's a green man, tall and formal, looking at him with a gaze he can't recognize. "You will leave, I am sure of it."

Who. Who the fuck?! The audacity of this man?! His best friend just died and—

He's not dead.

Is he dreaming of a life where Painter still here, or did Sebastian hallucinate his death? There's no way. This isn't right. Something is wrong.

Sebastian is wrong.

"Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters." 

Trivial? TRIVIAL?! Sebastian stares at him, ready to snap but his head is full of static, he's forced to look away. It stops.

"You will get out of here, I can assure you."

How did he sound so confident when he hadn't faced a single day of hardship, a day in his scales?

"How do you know that?! What do you WANT from me?!"

"In exchange for shutting down Urbanshade, I will grant you your freedom." 

Sebastian froze, it's too good to be true. Everything he's worked so hard for— is it just going to be handed to him on a silver platter? It wasn't fair. He deserved freedom but not like this. Did he want to work hard for it? He's not sure, he's never sure. This place is breaking him and he can't keep doing this anymore 

"But— that doesn't make sense! I can't shut them down from here! Why ME?! If you're so powerful why can't you—" 

"There are things I know that you do not." He fixed his hat, tapping the cane onto the concrete floor. "Stick to the script."

They're both quiet. This man is letting him think about it, but does Sebastian really have a choice?

"You will find another saboteur."

"You are the only one fit for it." He wasn't playing games, the man pointed at the place with too much calmness and ease, as if this was nothing.

Sebastian clasps his hands together, a pit in his stomach. "Fine, I'll stop them from getting the crystal, I'll even—" 

He's cut off. Immediately. "Allow them to access it." 

"And let them go free?!" 

"What happens to them does not concern you." It was firm and final, there was no undoing this. It's abundantly clear that if Sebastian tries, everything will be reset again and... Well, it'll be a cruel loop.

"You're fucking loopy." Sebastian muttered loudly, angrily. He rubs his temples and shoots him a glare, ignoring the insistent pain.

"It is Mr. Lopee to you." He corrects, it left his mouth easily, a formal gentleman.

Sebastian feels a cold touch on his shoulder, way too human for his comfort. "Go on now." 

Mr. Lopee disappeared, and Sebastian just stood there. The frantic yelling from his walkie-talkie turned phone was nothing but background noise as he stood there. Contemplating.

Sebastian has work to do.

He'll get out if it's the last thing he'll do.

He'll die in the process if he has to.