Chapter Text
Number Five made several mistakes.
The most recent was running away. You don't run from the Guard—you do as you're told. If they tell you to stay where you are, you stay where you are.
Yet Number Five ran as fast as its body would allow.
What other option did it have?
It should not have tried to scavenge for food that day. It had eaten two days ago and could have gone longer without food. Sure, hunger was painful, but not lethal—not yet, at least.
However, that was another mistake. Number Five had acted greedily.
'Just one small scavenging run,' thought Number Five naively. 'It may not be much mana, but it's enough.'
It would just take a short trip to the nearest town to find something to quell the pain in its stomach.
It didn't even get close to the food.
Maybe it should have tried to find something to eat in the forest.
Maybe it should have not gone out and scavenged for food.
Maybe it shouldn't have woken up that day.
Maybe it shouldn't have dared to think that today might have been a good day.
That was probably the first and most egregious mistake Number Five could have made.
But none of that mattered now, should it have done something differently? Definitively, were there other alternatives before? Perhaps, would spending time thinking about it help Number Five in any meaningful capacity?
Absolutely not.
The only thing Number Five could do was run as fast as it could—faster than it ever thought possible. It hoped that the agents of The Emperor would either give up the chase or that it would be able to lose them.
Number Five knew very well that it may be fruitless in the end, that it may be only delaying the inevitable, after all, it only achieved freedom because sheer dumb luck, and only because said luck it has managed to stay hidden this long.
But good luck has to run its course eventually.
Yet, despite knowing this, Number Five ran. It ran through the town, through crowds of people, through the forest. It ran until its lungs burned and its body ached. Then, it forced itself to run even more.
Eventually, Number Five had to stop, as much as it hated doing so, it had to stop, its body forced it to stop.
It was tired; it was too tired.
How long had it been running? Who knows? Who cares?
It wasn't enough; it wasn't nearly enough. It needed to put more distance between itself and him. But exhaustion was too much. Even a brisk pace felt like torture. It needed to hide, to find a place to rest and catch its breath, just enough so it could run again.
Number Five didn't have to look for very long. After a few minutes of aimlessly wandering, it found a set of overgrown ruins—the perfect spot to hide while it recovered its strength. Maybe its luck hadn't completely run out yet.
Even better, the forest canopy was very thick in this area, so it would be difficult for anyone to track Number Five through the air. It could find a tight enough spot in the dilapidated ruins to hide.
There!
A hole—or, more precisely, a gap between two collapsed walls—very small, but just big enough for Number Five to fit.
It was perfect.
However, getting in proved to be more complicated than expected. Once inside, it felt too tight. Still, it was the perfect place to hide until Number Five recovered its strength and could run again.
Just a very short rest.
Then, Number Five would have the strength to keep going.
But its eyelids were too heavy.
When Number Five awoke, it did so with a jolt, its hackles raised in alarm.
There was something in here. Number Five could sense it: the shift in the mana caused by a particular kind of demon.
Despite every muscle in its body begging it to run, Number Five slithered out of its hideout as slowly and silently as it could.
But that still wasn't enough.
Number Five leaned too much on one of the walls.
Something fell on the ground.
There was a shift in the Mana.
And once again, Number Five was running again.
The sound of branches snapping, loud stomps on the ground, a labored breath of a desperate basilisk, the distant growls of a hungry predator.
The feeling of exhaustion as Number Five felt its body lose strength.
The desperation as it forced itself to keep going.
The slow realization that it was going to die.
Number Five didn't want to die.
It didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die.
'Don't stop now. Keep going. Must keep going. Always keep moving.'
It kept going, forcing itself to carry on even though its body was faltering.
Then Number Five saw something out of the corner of its eye: an otherworldly sight. It almost looked like it shouldn't even exist.
An escape. A way out.
Fueled only by fear and desperation, Number Five ran to it.
It ran as fast as it was able.
It saw it shrinking.
Fading.
Number Five jumped.
Then, it vanished.
Number Five couldn't make sense of what happened next. It felt like an eternity, even though it was just a moment. It was like falling, even though there was no up or down. The world bent in ways that should NOT have been possible, all while being engulfed in complete darkness.
Then, the world exploded into light and noise, and all sensation returned as Number Five was flung into the air. A wave of pain hit Number Five as it collided with something before finally coming to an abrupt stop after hitting the ground.
Despite how much its body wanted to lie there, Number Five forced itself up. Something its body was clearly against, as the entire world was still spinning, and a few black spots filled its vision. A burning sensation manifested on its stomach and quickly made its way up its throat.
Number Five heaved, but only bile came out. It's not like there was much else in its stomach at this point.
For a moment, Number Five entertained the idea of simply collapsing on the strange floor. Breathing felt hard. Standing felt hard. Keeping its eyes open felt hard. It was just. So. Tired.
Number Five just wanted it to be over.
But it also wanted to live.
Suddenly, a very loud sound tore through its ears, sending it reeling. Energy surged through its worn body as its survival instinct took control once again.
It needed to move.
It couldn't stay there.
It needed to get out.
Then it saw it: a door. A very strange-looking door. But it was a door. Close enough to a door. It was a way out.
Number Five began to move as fast as its body could still manage, but not fast enough.
A huge barrier began to descend.
Number Five forced itself to move faster.
The barrier was halfway there.
'Almost.'
The barrier hit the floor with a loud clank.
'No'
There was the sound of metal hitting metal and a loud hiss coming from the barrier.
'No, no!'
Number Five tried to raise the barrier.
'This isn't happening.'
It tried to hit the barrier, but no matter how hard it tried, Number Five just couldn't open it or remove it. It was made of metal, and it was too big for its small body.
'There has to be a way out of this place.'
Number Five began to move again, pacing across this strange new place as fast as it could with its remaining strength, desperately hoping there would be another exit—a hole, a crack, a door, anything.
But there was no exit to be found.
The walls are solid, and the only door is covered in metal. There isn't even a single aperture.
There is no way out. It's trapped, here inside this strange room.
Number Five was trapped again.
It was trapped in a place known only to Titan, with no hope of escape—this time, forever.
Number Five felt like screaming, but only a choking sound came out. Hot tears began to form in the corners of its eyes. It started to pull at its own hair. The last bits of strength it still had began to leave its body as the hopelessness of the entire situation set in.
It was trapped.
Trapped again.
In the end, it was all for nothin-
There was a hissing sound followed by the sound of something metallic moving.
Number Five turned its head in the direction from which the sound came.
It immediately felt its heart seize when it saw the figure of a person wearing white.
They wore a white coat, just like one of them, and held a paralysis staff.
They found it; they are here. They found Five.
They are here! He is here!
Not again! Not again no.
No.
No, No, No!
NO!
Number Five tried to run. It genuinely tried, but it only managed to stumble to the ground. It crawled away from the butcher, but it was no use. Number Five had no more strength left. Its body just couldn't go on. Yet it desperately tried. It tried, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. There was no way out of this cell. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
The only thing Number Five could do was crawl to the far corner of the room, press itself against the wall, and make itself as small as possible. It hoped this would do something—anything—but at this point, it was just delaying the inevitable.
Number Five's eyes were fixed on the form of its tormentor, knowing there was nothing else that could be done.
It knew it was pointless, yet it closed its eyes, covered its head with its arms, and did the only thing it could.
"Please," it begged. "Please, please, please don't hurt me."
Begging is usually a double-edged sword. Sometimes it makes its tormentors stop or hurt it less. Sometimes it angers them and makes the pain worse. But it was the only thing Number Five could do at this point.
"Please don't hurt me. I'll be good. I swear. Just please don't hurt me," it pleaded, its voice full of desperation. It hoped that maybe the pain would be tolerable.
It pleaded for a long time, but the only response was silence.
Number Five tried to brace itself as much as it could, shielding itself with its arms.
It waited for the pain.
It waited.
But it never came.
Instead, Number Five heard a voice.
"Did …" That voice said "Did it speak… Did you … speak?" That voice, they sounded … surprised.
Number Five heard movement, so it lowered its head even more. It didn't dare look.
After that, there was only silence again. Number Five didn't dare move or say anything else. However, it noticed that there was still no paint. It didn't feel the distinctive sensation of its body seizing under a shock spell. Nor did it feel any problems with its breathing. There weren't any hands trying to force it into the ground—not yet, at least.
"Did you … speak … in English?" the butcher asked.
Under normal circumstances, that question would have been a major warning sign. Whenever one of the guards asked, "Did you speak?" it wasn't really a question. It was a sign that they were angered. Sometimes this phrase was followed by physical punishment. Other times, it was a warning and a last chance to avoid punishment by keeping quiet.
However, Number Five noticed that, unlike in normal circumstances, the tone of the question did not carry the usual restrained anger of a last warning nor the loud lashing that was followed by physical pain. Instead, it carried a tone of surprise and … Disbelief mixed with … Curiosity?
Number Five did not expect to hear that, but it meant that the butcher in front of it was not immediately angry. Good, that's good.
Another silent moment passed before the butcher spoke again.
"Can you understand me? Can you understand what I am saying?" The butcher asked, sounding calmer this time.
That actually sounded like a question. It was unusual, but not unprecedented. Perhaps they thought basilisk demons were mindless and unable to understand words. It's not the first time someone has made that assumption.
But before Number Five could answer,
"Dr. Ferrus?" A new voice spoke, echoing from everywhere in the room.
The suddenness and loudness of the voice, as it reverberated off the walls, was enough to make Number Five yelp and cower further.
"What? What was that?" the new voice asked.
Number Five could only reply by uttering, "I am sorry," over and over.
Another silent pause followed.
Then, the voice spoke again. "What? Who—who said that?"
"You heard that too? The Butcher asked.
"There's no one else inside. No one else has entered the transit bay."
There was another pause before the Butcher answered. "There ... may be someone else."
After a few moments of silence, the voice replied. "The ... Was that the creature?"
The Butcher replied. "As far as I am aware, there are no other living beings in here."
There was something strange about the way those two spoke about Number Five. The fact that a basilisk could speak was new to them, but the way they spoke about it was different. Number Five could discern surprise and shock in their voices, but strangely, there was no horror or outrage.
In fact, there was a distinctive lack of any anger that Number Five had come to expect: no aggression and no pain so far. So, Number Five dared to expose its head and raise it slightly to get a quick look at the butcher in front of it.
As expected, Number Five saw white. Much less expected, however, was the presence of the colors green and yellow. White was still the most prevalent color, but the addition of green and yellow...
Number Five dared to lift its head a bit further, taking in more details of the figure in front of it. It soon realized that this was no butcher—or, at the very least, this butcher did not wear the usual garb. As a matter of fact, it looked nothing like anything Number Five had ever seen in its life.
For starters, it was a full-body piece and very bulky. It didn't even look like it was made of fabric. Regarding the colors, greens made patterns predominantly on the right side of the body and right arm, while yellows made lengthy stripes on the chest and left arm.
They wore a mask no less strange than their clothing. The lower portion had two cylindrical protrusions. A long tube was connected to one of the protrusions and extended from the right side of the mask over the shoulder to something in the back. The upper portion of the mask appeared to be made of orange crystal.
As Number Five noticed more oddities in this person's clothing, it became easier to breathe.
That is, until Number Five noticed the metallic bar on this stranger's hands.
Now that Number Five had taken a closer look, it was clear that it wasn't a paralysis staff. It was too short and thin, slightly bent on one end and bent into a semicircular shape on the other, with flat tips on both edges.
The stranger noticed Number Five studying their appearance and followed their gaze to the bar on their hands. They raised the bar, holding it close to their masked face. Then, they turned their gaze to Number Five.
The stranger spoke. "Well, I believe there's a good possibility that you can understand me. So, in the event that is the case, let us make a compromise." They said this as they slowly knelt down.
"I am not going to hurt you, okay?" The stranger said as they placed the metallic bar on the ground.
Number Five watched as the stranger slowly raised their arms, palms extended outward.
"I am unarmed. I have no intention of doing harm. I will defend myself if need be. But if you just want me to leave you in peace, I'll do just that. Does that sound like a fair compromise to you?" The stranger said, much to Number Five's stupefaction.
Unexpected, to say the least.
"Are you capable of understanding me?" The stranger asked again, genuinely.
After a brief moment, Number Five answered. "I—I … I do."
There was a moment of silence between Number Five and the stranger after that answer. Number Five almost began to think it had said the wrong thing until the stranger made a sound between a chuckle and a sigh.
"You … DO understand me!" the stranger said.
Stammering, Number Five replied, "Y—Yeah, I—I just said that." Now it was really wondering if it had said the wrong thing.
In response, however, the stranger only said, "Faszinierend."
Number Five didn't know whether that was good or bad. In fact, it didn't know what that meant.
The stranger had more to say, though. "I have so many questions I wish to ask you and so many things I wish to discuss."
"This! … This is … Monumental!" The stranger stood up, but then paused as if he had come to an important realization. "And I don't have anything on me to take notes."
The stranger quickly recovered, however, and turned around to look at one of the walls in the room. "Dr. Temple! I need you to start taking notes on everything being said here. This is a first contact scenario. If Dr. Kleiner isn't with you, call him immediately. Also, bring in the on-shift engineering personnel. We must begin work on appropriate accommodations that are both comfortable and safe for an alien life form. We will also require—"
But before the stranger could continue, a voice from the wall interrupted him. "Dr. Ferrus, the quarantine protocols are still in effect."
That was enough to silence the stranger.
"Ah," he said. The stranger said simply. “Ja. I may also require a thorough decontamination shower after this close encounter of the third kind."
"That's probably for the best," the voice in the wall said. "Even so, I'll inform the engineering team that they'll have a major assignment very soon."
"I would appreciate that very much, Dr. Temple," the stranger replied. "By the way, how soon—"
The voice cut the stranger off. "In about 18 to 22 minutes. The security detail is ready, but the decontamination technicians are still preparing."
"Ausgezeichnet." The stranger said, seemingly pleased.
Then, the stranger paused and slowly turned to look at Number Five. ". . . Umm, decontaminating the transit bay may be complicated."
There was a brief pause before the disembodied voice answered. "Ah, right, our surprise guest."
Number Five curled its body upon hearing those words; it had a feeling that this did not bode well.
The stranger stood there looking at Number Five. Then, they clasped their hands together and turned to the wall. "All right, here's what we'll do. Marly, tell the decontamination technician this is an HL-2 situation. Standard extraction and lockdown protocols. Tell Isaac to vacate a space in Sector C's second bio lab. It should suffice for our purposes, even if only temporarily. Once I'm out, we'll discuss the specifics with the engineering team."
"Right away," the voice in the wall replied. "There is a security detail here, and another one right outside the Transit Bay. If something goes wrong, just scream. But really, Edmund, please be careful."
After that, nothing but silence filled the air.
Once again, Number Five found itself under the stranger's gaze. In that moment, Number was reminded that it was at the stranger's mercy—a fact that did nothing to ease it's growing concern.
Who was that voice? What were they going to do with Number Five?
Decontamination? Extraction and lockdown? What was going to happen in 20 minutes?
What has Number Five gotten itself into?