Chapter Text
The sub hovered in the air, slowly sinking into the blood ocean, and all Simon could see, out the only window, was red. They hadn’t been kidding when they said it was a blood ocean. And he was supposed to find.. Something in this shit? Unbelievable…
But, he wanted his freedom. Simon wanted to see him again. Oh, how he wanted to see Ryland again. Simon’s hand clutched against the leather bracelet around his left wrist. A bracelet Ryland had made for him as a parting gift, a good luck charm, he had said.
How long has it been since… since then? 5 years? Simon hoped it hadn’t exceeded that. He felt a distant anger rising in his chest. If only he had figured out what his fellow brothers had been planning to do, if only he had—
A speaker to his left crackled to life.
“Beginning the descent,” A woman’s voice sounded through, and then the sub lurched, speedily getting deeper and deeper into the red depths.
“Mission clock started. Exploration of AT-5 underway.” A pause for a few moments. “How’s it looking down there, Convict?”
Simon turned to look at the speaker with an unamused look on his face. Could she even see him? A part of him hoped she could, but a smaller part of him hoped that she couldn’t. His hand tightened around the leather bracelet. He’d gotten used to the name Convict, just as he had gotten used to the nickname ‘The Butcher’. Not that he liked being called either one, he had simply grown numb to their meanings.
“Are you ready to do some good for a change?” She then asked when he didn’t answer her previous question.
Simon turned back to face the instrument panel. “Yeah.” He replied. “Let’s just get it done and over with.”
“Roger that.” The woman replied. “You’ll enter cruising depth within two minutes. Stand by.”
Not even a minute goes by before she speaks up again. “I’m seeing some irregular voltage movements in the instruments, so keep an eye on them. They might make some sparks, or flames.”
Simon’s brows furrowed, and a buzz of alarm sounded in the back of his head. “Flames?” He echoed, turning around in the chair to face the speaker. “Why would there be flames?"
“I don’t know,” Simon could hear the shrug, and the dismissive tone in her voice through the speaker. “That’s why I warned you, Convict.”
Simon did not like that answer one bit. Why would she not know? “You did test this thing, right?” He asked.
“This is the test.” An immediate answer. And Simon is too baffled to even shoot back a reply, leaving room for the woman to start going on about some other kinds of safety precautions.
“Hey, hey,” Simon cuts into the conversation again. “What is it exactly that you want me to find? You haven’t even told me what it is, yet.”
Simon had noticed a shield rising to cover the window in front of him, getting rid of his view of the blood ocean. Too much was happening, and too much information was being handed to him at once. He felt a toddler being handed a broken crayon, and told to paint a sinking sunset. It felt unobtainable.
A snarky snort managed to sneak its way through the speaker. “Y’know, we salvaged that glass from Filament Station. Not a single scratch on it, either.”
Oh, and now she was taunting him. How nice of her. Simon swallowed his bark, rubbing the bracelet around his wrist as a distraction.
“Pretty lucky, right? It’s funny how some things survive, and others don’t.”
OK, that’s it, if she’s going to keep taunting him like this, then he’s just going to–
He paused. Was that blood? Was blood dripping onto the instrument panel? Already?
“Hey! Hey, there’s a leak. Are you hearing this? Hey!”
“Reaching maximum depth in 30 seconds.”
“Hey, you said not to go into the red!” He exclaimed, waving his hand toward the depth measuring gauge. “We’re in the red!”
The woman on the speaker seemed to have a thing for not listening to him, and honestly, it was beginning to grate on Simon’s nerves. The speaker crackled back to life, but this time it was distorted. A bunch of gibberish came through before some salvageable words worked their way through the static. “Head to the coordinates on the map, catalog them as instructed, and we’ll consider your penance served.”
“Be careful. Good–” And the speaker went dead. The sub lurched harshly one final time before stilling.
Simon blinked once, twice, before he registered that he was utterly alone now.
“You can’t be serious.” He muttered to himself as he stood up from the chair. “You can’t be serious.” He repeated much louder, and aimed at the speaker.
His hood fell off from his head, an exasperated sigh escaping him while he ran his hand through his hair. “You can’t be serious…” He whispered, now realizing just how claustrophobic this space really was.
He’ll get through this, that’s what Simon had to keep telling himself. He’ll get through this, and he’ll get his freedom back, then he can go home.
He could go home. Back to Ryland.
Yes, for Ryland, he can make it through this.
He can do it.