Chapter Text
There is nothing but darkness.
The hot, thick blood has seeped through each crevasse in his body, boiling temperatures scorching his insides. He can’t move any of his limbs, they will not respond. No matter how loud his thoughts scream, no matter how desperate he is to kick his legs and swim out of this vast, alien ocean, he cannot.
The metallic tang of blood is so overpowering, it feels as if it clings and sticks to all his senses. It fills his lungs, his stomach, his throat, invading and replacing the blood in the vessels that run through his limbs. The pounding ache in his chest making him feel like he was going to implode right there.
Simon is suspended in an ocean of blood, his skin boiling and reshaping and blistering and crawling with the most awful sensations all at once. Flesh and bones snap and crack, viscous red adhesive holding his shattering skeletal structure together. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts so much, so much he wants to scream, but the blood that has clotted in his body prevents him from doing so. There is nothing, absolutely nothing he can do, but endure this gross metamorphosis.
It is miserable. It is so painful and miserable and awful and disgusting and grotesque. His body is rebuilding itself. No, not even. His body is being rebuilt in the image of something else. Something inhuman, ancient probably.
What a pitiful thing he is. What a pitiful thing he’s making himself to be. As if he doesn’t deserve the pain. As if the selfishness of wanting to live, the selfishness in thinking he’s earned his life, didn’t warrant any of this. There is a buzzing in the back of his head. An incessant, deafening buzz that consumes his thoughts and his mind. There is no distraction from the pain that shoots through him as his body is reshaped. Only a numbing silence and a throbbing discomfort that echoes and reverberates throughout his being. What a foolish man Simon is. To think freedom, a fate so generous and kind, would ever befall him. Filament Station was gone. There was no undoing the past, and the actions of him and the rest of Eden were too great to apologize for, even years after the damage had been done. But was the crime of only being part of the reason 62 people died really so atrocious that it left Simon deserving of this damnation? It was really a moral debate. However, that no longer mattered. Simon was there now, undergoing a perpetual change in autonomy that he did not want.
Maybe it was all another hallucination. Maybe none of this never happened at all. Maybe, just maybe, he was dreaming, and any moment now he was going to wake up back underneath the gently swaying branches of the universe’s last tree. Back at Eden. Surrounded by his dear brothers, who would frizz up his hair and berate him for sleeping for so long. Old memories resurfaced. Blurry images in his mind appeared. Them listening to the Father’s lectures, them playing tag around the station. He could even faintly remember a time when one of his older brothers was teaching him how to read, using an engineering manual that was for the wiring on the station. But they all disappeared as quickly as they popped up, swallowed by the buzzing sound that clouded his mind. Now there was nothing left to think about or reminisce in. There was nothing but darkness, and the pain that came with the rebuilding of his body. It was becoming increasingly obvious that his idea of everything just being a dream was a dream itself. It was all real. It was all real and terrifying.
Simon could only hope the process killed him. And as the buzzing in his head lulled his dreary, shell-shocked mind into a hazy numbness, he was starting to think it would.
…
It’s amazing how persistent some weeds are. Much like the nervous system of a human, their roots vastly extend throughout whatever soil they’ve infested, and it is annoyingly difficult to uproot once they have settled. Once they have embedded themselves into the Earth, they will always be a part of it. There is no getting it out, no matter how deep you dig. There is no ridding the soil of this pestilence, no matter how much of it you burn away. Ailanthus altissima, the tree of heaven, is a wonderful example of the infuriating persistence of invasive species. It is a deciduous tree that is able to grow to 27 meters in height. Its thickets of leaves exclude other plant species from photosynthesis, its method of dispersing seeds through the winds makes it incredibly easy for the invasive to spread, and its habit of vigorously regrowing after being cut down makes eradication quite difficult.
And like a tree of heaven, the blood ocean has made a home out of Simon.
…
He awoke with a jolt, gasping for air as he pulled himself out of the deep puddle of blood. It felt particularly hard to pull himself up for some reason. His body weight was weirdly distributed as he pushed himself up, almost as if… As if… he looked down. His left arm was a stump of gore and blisters. Simon tried to scream, but the sound that came out was gurgled as the blood came pouring out of his mouth. He staggered to his feet, holding onto the wall of the SM-13 for support. It didn’t take very long for the nausea and pain to send him barreling back down to the pool of blood on the floor though. He collapsed with a splash, a groan racking through his throat. After getting on his knees again, leaning against the wall, Simon began to violently cough.
Sputtering and retching on his knees, he could feel his body tiring from the strain. His spine arched as he forced out every last trace of blood from his lungs. Then came the vomiting. The foreign substance had been bloating his stomach, and it needed to get out. Now. Sweat mixed with the blood covering his whole body as droplets of it rolled off his forehead. It was so humid and uncomfortable in there, it made him sicker than he already was. His whole body lurched as the blood began to rise in his throat, thick clots of it spewing out, adding to the pool below him. His head started to reel as he gasped for air. Another bout of vomiting up the dark red stuff. Then another. And another. He sat there for about 3 minutes, heaving up one heap of blood at a time, until his skin clung to his bones and his stomach felt hollow.
“Oh my god… Oh my fucking god this can’t be real… Fuck, fuck… oh fuck…” His voice was wavering with despair, an ache in his head making him sway unsteadily from side to side. Everything felt so dull and overwhelming at once it was emetic. Almost enough for him to throw up again. Tears started swelling in his eyes, a hand reaching up to wipe them away before pausing. It was coated in blood. His whole body was coated in blood. That viscous crimson covered every part of his body. It was so filthy. So unclean and disgusting. He wanted to be rid of the fucking liquid and never look at the colour red again, but he was still trapped. Still caged up and kept from the freedom he so desperately craved. His arm sunk back down slowly, dipping back into the pool of blood. The lingering taste of bile and tangy metallic blood was revolting, but at least most of his body was cleaned out.
Simon got off of his knees, stretching his legs out in front of him, pressing his back against the wall of the red stained submarine. God, it smelt awful in there, the stench of blood clinging to the walls. To him. It made him want to throw up again. Everything was just so filthy…
“Fucking hell… get me out of here already. God fucking damn it.” His head shifted, his cheek now pressed against the wall to. It was a moderately warm temperature, the inside of the ship uncomfortably humid, but not boiling like before. Simon wanted to cry, but he was too exhausted for that. The ache in his spine still reverberated throughout his body, and it didn’t seem like it was going to go away anytime soon. So, he just sat there, marinating in the blood that flooded the SM-13, enveloped in the silence.
Except it wasn’t silent. There was something else, somewhere outside. An angelic tune of chirps and song like wailing, that ever so quietly filled the silence he sat in. He could barely make it out, but it was there. Or was it just another trick of the mind. There was no doubt something got messed up in his head after the whole ancient-eel-like-alien-monster-induced hallucinations. But it was so consistent. Every few seconds there was another chirp and hum, followed by the scrape of stone against stone. Something was moving outside. There was something outside. He wasn’t alone and there was something outside. Simon’s breathing grew unsteady, panic settling in his still throbbing chest. A shaky hand rose to cover his mouth, his knees folding together. Was it another one of those toothy aliens? Another monstrous fish thing out for blood? He couldn’t bear to envision what horrors could be awaiting him outside of the iron walls of the SM-13.
He couldn’t tell if it was the panic amplifying each and every sound, or if it was real, but it sounded like the chittering was getting closer. Another harmony of chirrups and cries. It was definitely closer. Then came the tapping. 3 simple knocks that echoed through the small ship’s interior. Simon didn’t move, biting onto his hand in an attempt to stay silent and calm. He didn’t care about how disgusting the rich irony taste the blood had was. He didn’t care about how peculiar it was that his teeth seemed to be actually piercing his flesh. He only cared about surviving this new hell. Frantic tapping quickly followed, repetitive knocks on the submarine’s surface echoing through the hollow inside, giving Simon a bit of a headache. He curled himself into a ball even further, sinking into the pool of blood, waiting for it to be over.
The tapping grew more aggressive, until eventually, it stopped. Simon looking up and over his shoulder, checking to see If his surroundings were the same. They were. The decrepit submarine was still stained completely red, aside from the dim flickering light above him, and the soft greenish glow that the camera button emitted.
The camera button was emitting light… Was it still functional?
Simon got to his feet, staggering to the far end of the submarine, until the button was within arm’s length. How to use it was simple; just press the button, and the photo will show up on the big screen next to it. Of course, there was the issue of it being an x-ray camera. Using it would expose everyone, including himself, to deadly amounts of radiation. That’s assuming whoever is surrounding him is human though. It was worth a shot. Simon pressed down on the rectangular button, leaning into it to apply the right amount of pressure that triggered the camera. The screen lit up, a blinding flash of white momentarily flooding his vision. Then, the grainy x-ray image revealed itself. And it was… odd. Not hauntingly terrifying or anything, just odd. He could barely make anything out, aside from a few geometric shapes and surfaces that reflected the light from the camera, blurring whatever else was out there. Then there was more tapping. Not tapping actually, pounding. Rapid, aggressive pounding that felt like it was shaking the whole submarine. A chorus of infuriated cries and hollers and trills erupted from outside. It seems like whatever was outside did have a reaction to the radiation, and by blasting them with it, Simon had pissed them off. Wonderful! So wonderful.
Maybe it was the build up of fear and anger from all the recent events, or maybe it was just the annoyance that had been bubbling up at the incessant tapping and pounding, but an overwhelming anger passed over Simon. He punched the camera button again, listening to the shutter and turning his gaze to the screen once again. This time he could actually see what was on the other side of the iron walls. It was a medium-sized creature that seemed to be pentapedal, its body covered in carved designs and ridges. It looked like a meteorite that grew legs and decorated itself with symbols and lines. Simon didn’t really have that much time to observe the unclear image on the screen, because something hot and burning and sharp pierced through his hand.
“AAAARGH- What the fuck?!” he yelled in surprise, stumbling backwards as he watched a burning hot rod get prodded into the ship, directly through the camera. He shook his hand as the searing pain coursed through the rest of his arm, taking multiple steps back as the blade began to withdraw. The stab wound in his palm has cauterized upon impact, so bleeding wasn’t the biggest issue. What was the biggest issue was that that same burning hot blade was now sawing into the SM-13. Simon pressed himself up against the wall of the front of the submarine, scrambling to find any kind of weapon to defend himself with.
The porthole was shattered. That had potential. Simon reached behind him and snapped a chunky piece of jagged glass off, hissing at the pain as it cut up his hand. He wasn’t going to complain about that though, it was a weapon, nonetheless. He glared at the circular outline the blade was still sawing, peeking through the small gap in the side of it that had begun wilting down. He stared at it for an agonizing minute, until finally, the swing stopped, and the circle was punched through, plummeting into the pool of blood below. Outside was completely dark, apart from the glowing hot rod that had been used to cut through the SM-13’s wall. Illuminated by the submarine’s dim overhead light, was the same thing that showed up on the camera. Meteorite with legs, with a weird reflective film of geometric shapes surrounding its figure. Maybe it was a protective layer of sorts? Whatever. One of its legs tapped against the submarine, and it began to clamber onboard, hollering out different pitched chirps and trills.
Simon waves the sharp end of the glass at it, leaning further into the back wall. “Get back! Get AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TAKE ANOTHER STEP OR I WILL CRUSH YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME!?”
The alien didn’t seem phased by his loud protests and screaming. It just continued to climb into the submarine, responding with its own loud wails. It stepped into the ship and… Started flailing around in the blood. It let out this ear piercing shriek, the protective layer around it evaporating into a puff of steam. It scrambled away, running away and into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of black dust. Simon sat there for a moment, rather confused. The blood had cooled down a drastic amount, for him at least. He was alone now, though, with no choice but to stay in the submarine, stranded in a blacked out, unknown terrain. Simon slumped over himself a bit more, the glass shard slipping from his palm as he stared out the circular hole in the SM-13.
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there for. He sat unmoving, unblinking, completely focused on the gaping hole in the submarine. The thing wasn’t going to get repaired any time soon, and Simon sure as hell didn’t want to turn his back on a vulnerable spot. So instead, he sat vigilant and still. That was of course, until he passed out from exhaustion.