Act 1: Questionable goal
Part 1: Awakening to nowhere
Emptiness is all around me, with only the earth under my feet and not a single living soul in sight. The beautiful silence is interrupted only by a rare gust of whistling wind. Peace shrouds me in fog, removing all past stress and tension. How do I lack this; something as simple as a little silence and tranquility?
How do I get away from this crappy routine and go dance with life on the ever-busy streets of some big city, go get some drinks, a girl for a night and...
My stream of happiness and dreams is suddenly interrupted by the emerging sun. It radiates darkness, taking the light away, pulling some vile tentacles towards me... it's calling me to itself, just to drag me back into cruel, grey, unpleasant reality... and I can't resist it. I can't move...I'm paralyzed. All I can do is scream in despair. "No...no-no-no—NO! I won't go back! I don't want it! Let me go... I don't want to spend my life there... please...! I JUST! WANT! TO! LIVE!" But it can't hear me. It can't. It's only here to drag me back. Every fucking day and night...
But this time something goes wrong. Terribly wrong...
I wake up myself; no alarms, just the buzz of an old lamp - strange. Pain encases my entire body. My head is killing me, everything brules in the eyes - I feel sick and way too lazy to get up. All signs of a hangover - I'm sure of it. Just what the hell did I commit myself to yesterday to wake up in this state, hm? Sigh, I bet I was at a party - the best thing to do in this shithole. A special fucking opportunity to get drunk and avoid the death penalty for drinking. Fuck yeah! Sigh. Just gotta be sure NOT to be late to the next job or - well - you're dead. Best case scenario, the Professor will shove a fucking stick in your ass... a heated, metal stick at that.
Мать твою, head! Can you hurt just a little bit less, I'm trying to think here. Well...the first, and the most obvious reason for my headache - yesterday I was partying hard until the very last bottle of booze: everything still blurring in eyes, legs... ah, perfect - my legs out of order and unresponsive. At least I am lying in a clean, dry bed and not in my own vomit.
"Darling...I would love to stay and lie still on you for a while, but..." I barely drew myself and grabbed my hand for the edge.
"You know better than me: who does not work, he does not live."
I pull myself closer to the edge and grab it with my second hand. One more push and I fall to the ground. Grunting like some old man I'm trying to rise, using the bed as a support and motivating myself vocaly: "...come on Richard. Get your lazy old ass up!...until its start to starve to death. And you don't want that, I know."
Success. I'm up. My vision slowly comes back to normal and I appreciate the room I'm currently in. The walls are cracked; the wallpaper is faded, torn off and sometimes even absent; everything's old. The verdict - I'm at home. I can breathe a sigh of relief - in this shithole, I can walk with my eyes closed. Ok...stop looking at the walls. I need to put myself in order and go to work.
Attempts to walk with my own two legs fail – I fall at the very first attempt to get up. Looks like I'll have to crawl to the bath on all fours, like a dog or a cat under valerian.
Upon reaching my "destination", with all my heart I appreciated the fact that I have a toilet and bath in the same bloody room. Ok, back to business. I crawl to the "white throne" and immediately vomit into his "very soul", after which I use as a support to stand up. Perfect...now, next on the list is - Yes. Sink in sight. The Mirror is shattered, distance – 2.5 m. I mumble displeased:"Ooh...Challenge accepted, you rusty peace of pottery with a broken mirror!"
From the outside it probably looks very ridiculous and funny. Maybe (this situation/predicament) would make a good video with a title like "drunk as fuck man talking to the bathroom". Ha-ha...very funny. Not.
I inhale deeply, pull out my free hand, and make a dash in the right direction, catching both hands on the sink, and hang onto it. I do not know how miraculous this thing is, but it manages to hold my weight. I quickly take the normal position and turn on the water.
No hot water, only cold, orange water.
I roar, cranking the cranes furiously: " An elite research complex capable of withstanding a nuclear war, yet NO ONE can fix the goddamn pipes! Fucking Suka, как же меня заебало это неработающее дерьмо! Fine! I'll use your shit water..."
I rinse my face and head - the water is disgusting, but at least I feel somewhat better. Well, taking a shower is pointless – we have a "water problem" over here and washing myself in orange admixture of rust and god knows what - that won't make me any cleaner, that's for god damn sure. Na, here's a better idea - I'll just dip my head into the sink and turned on the water.
Yep! That will fix me up in no time. In this position, I'm standing for about 5 minutes now, until the crane begins to monotonously scold me, pointing to the lack of water. Perfect! Just fucking - заебись какой - perfect! No water now and next on the list – no electricity. God, I have to get on the job asap!
After pulling my face from that "shower" I shake my head and... notice from the corner of my eye that there is something stuck to my hair. I'm trying to find this trash and remove it with my hand, but with each movement, I slow down, my face becoming more and more distinctly shocked and confused. What...the hell, I got no hair! Where is - what is this? Something alive, warm and feeling natural. With my fingertips I feel for the tip of this something and lower it to my eyes for consideration.
It is...a tentacle? What? Twitching, reacting, one side white, the other pink. Wait a sec - is that tentacles on MY head?! Nonsense! I double check it with skepticism. But...I feel four of those things growing on my head! Sigh. I really could use a mirror right now, to make sure that I'm not turning into some kind of mutant! No, really, what are those tentacles even doing on MY head?! How is this even possible damn it?! I never asked to turn my head into a hentai simulator! On the other hand, they look long enough to be used as limbs...ah fuck it, I'll deal with it later, my job is waiting!
Remembering about all the possible ways they can execute you for getting late is starting to make me panic lightly. I finally start to walk like a normal, sober person and quickly move back into my room to reach the wardrobe. And here's a new surprise – my normal clothes are gone and what's left is the standard Kamabo Corporation "Fuck You" form. That's what we call it. I like the name, but not the design: Black latkes - no one likes it. I hate it personally. But, I am not gonna walk around naked, so this will do. There are also ID bracelets and some strange looking container/backpack filled with some kind of pink goo. There is no way to open it, and the purpose of this device is a mystery for me. But it looks important. I'll put it on, just in case. Now I am ready to work in shame. Let's go.
I rush out of my "apartment" and am ready to run to the train, but my half drunk brain stops me. Eyes tensed, I peer into the corridor. Strange - all the rest of the doors are sealed, the lighting is weak, many lamps are blinking. Dust. Ok. I can understand many things: the end of the world, the last people on earth, the lack of hands and food, bla-bla-bla. But this is unacceptable! The amount of dust is like in a factory, where one can only walk in a respirator! And I don't have one! I start to walk and cough because of how hard it is to breathe. As I walk closer to the end of the living area, the environment begins to become more - I dunno - ordinary.
The security guards cottage is demolished though - only fragments of metal lying around. The metal door dividing the living areas is smashed; the surveillance cameras do not show signs of life. I pause at the door and examine the edges of the walls to which it isattached. No amount of repairs can help here.
I move to the next area and turn aside. Even after drinking, my memory does not fail me - the map is in place; more precisely, what is left of it. "You are here" - the pointer indicates to a white dot on a colorless piece of paper. Excellent - it's useless. With a sigh, I turn around and go back to the central line of the corridor, under the lamps.
Well, I've got two options here: Cross all four living areas or cut through the cafeteria and quickly slip through the technical tunnel to the station. After some simple thinking I chose option two and move as quickly as I can in this dusty shit hole to the Cafeteria. The sign that is hanging on the right door is barely holding/staying attached and is ready to fall any minute. The door opens only partially, something is propping it. Without a second thought I ram it...again...and again. On the third try the door opens completely, and I fly in with inertia into the big room and look around. This does not look good.
Tables are skewed; everywhere is the barracks and again - not a single. Living. Soul. And dust. Where is everyone dammit? It feels like this place was abandoned for a long – long time. I stand on all fours and decide to see what is blocking the passage, but from the corner of my eye I notice something on the ceiling and look there. What I see are dozens of skeletons with clothes of varying degrees of depravity, hanging on cables that are attached to large iron beams. They're like new year's toys! Well that's a lot of dead people! The professor would be happy... That explains why...I shake my head, tossing away that idea. No, it explains nothing! What kind insane psycho did this? Why? Did he intend to waste time and make this place even more creepy? Well in that case he succeeded/his mission was a success, 'cause just by looking at these cold remnants of the Human race I feel uncomfortable.
Well, looking at this mess brings me fear nor shock; it does not even wake me pose a "WTF IS THIS?!" question. I dunno. It just feels wrong. It looks wrong...just like my hair and my job. Come to think of it, everything in my life for the past 20 years is WRONG. Yeah, thinking about right and wrong won't get me anywhere, I need to find a way out and continue walking to the train station. Alright, let's look around.
After short observation of this dark place I come up with almost nothing: distant parts of the room are not illuminated, but there is a table lamp pointing at something. I come closer and spot a drawing, partly illuminated by this lamp. Interesting. I unfolded the paper to view the drawing.
To the left is a man. From him there is an arc arrow to another person who has strange hair. From him, the same arc arrow, directs to the first person. Between these hands is a telephone. What could this possibly mean? That the psycho was mentally retarded and tried to draw the principle of a phone? Well that does not explain why the second man has this strange - tentacle - hair. Sigh. "For fucks sake, can somebody fucking explain to me what this is even supposed to mean?! Is this some kind of sick joke?! You do know how they punish people for wasting time!"
My furious cries echo through the empty corridors. No one replies because there was no one to do so. I keep looking at this "art", overwhelmed by the feeling that this is some kind of message - a warning or an attempt to say something that I do not yet know. But who cares? I take the lamp and light up the dark parts of the room in search of an exit. Here it is. I move there, still glancing at the ceiling. God, I feel sick at the sight of this - this...whatever this is.
Leaving the cafeteria, I exhaled with little relief and moved along the empty corridors, towards the descent into technical tunnel. Questions and attempts to give a logical explanation to all this forced out alcohol, but not a feeling of tension. It only strained the brain more, forcing it to think. I reached the descent into the technical tunnel, but here's the ill luck - the door is welded tight!
"Fuck!"- I roared at the door, banging it fiercely. "Fine, I'll just have to go further down the corridors! Thank you, whoever weld this bloody thing! " I said to myself and moved on, picking up the pace. Had to make a detour to get back to the entrance to the cafeteria, but from here I can directly reach the station, and then we'll figure it out.
As I moved through the last living area and the transition to the Lobby, I began to notice the traces of bullets on the walls, the blood and...corpses. This makes me uncomfortable. I would love to believe that this is some kind of prank, but I know this is impossible for a variety of reasons:
1) Pranks ≠ job. And who does not work, he does not live. The one fucking rule we all fear and respect!
2) Overlapping the passages, sabotaging the lighting, damaging the walls...hell, taking out the guard's booth and the door! Someone's gonna die for that.
3) Intentional destruction of the ceiling and erection of barricades.
And here is point three in a "very" interesting manner. The lateral corridor is completely blocked by a mesh fence - nah - the fence is fucking welded to the walls. The ceiling is collapsed, some kind of pinkish liquid drips from a dangling pipe. Hm... it looks just like the stuff in my backpack. This liquid is spread over half the corridor. There were only two light sources: a lamp on that side and a littered desk lamp illuminating the wall...and a picture on it. After rolling my eyes, I lifted the lamp and looked at the drawing. Wow, we've got instructions here, with numeration. How cute. So...
Step 1: A man with a tentacles...what, again? Why everything here is obsessed with its anime stuff? Think, Ricky, think. I'll just call this "guy" an Asshole. So, Asshole runs.
Step 2: He dive into a puddle that surrounded the fence. Strange.
Step 3: He...swims over the fence? I don't get it. How is that? Is there a hole or something? Fine...
Step 4: He emerges from it.
Step 5: Just a smile face...
Very informative. I once again "read" this laconic tutorial and moved the lighting to the fence itself, looking at this pink slime. I do not know why, but she attracted me with her appearance, beckoned to her, and in my head a strange instinct seemed to awaken, and began to whisper:
"Yo, you see that shit? That shit is your best friend right here, called ink. No fucking doubts here, man! It will heal ya, it can revive ya...y'all remember man. Now don't be a pussy and sail away."
Well... Honestly I got no other options, and my first signs of a mental disorder speak quite convincingly. Let's give it a try. I cautiously went into this color something and immediately left "under the water" with a head. The environment acquired a pink tint, sensations and perceptions changed dramatically to non-transferable. Everything looked and felt as if you had merged with this liquid ... with this ink? Uh...that's confusing. But I can perfectly see her limits, the environment. And why do I thinking about it, as her? Probably it's because of the color.
I see a fence above myself and start slowly swim under it. And it does not seem somehow alien, quite the contrary - everything is so natural and pleasant that I'm here a little bit in the whoa effect from what is happening. Just think of it: you can merge with a fluid of unknown origin and swim across an obstacles just like that. Sounds crazy, right? Just as crazy as that cafeteria and...well, everything so far.
Shit I just noticed! I can breathe in this stuff - that was so exciting, that I lost my track of movement, accidentally emerging from this...ink, and immediately hit the fence with my head. Fuck! That's hurt. Sigh. I lifted my hand and rubbed my bruised forehead, then submerged back and swam through this metal obstacle. On the edge of this slime, I seemed to be pushed out of it. I quickly retreated to the wall and examined myself - no traces of liquefies, chemical burns or something that went beyond the normal. Even clothes still on me...untouched. I would not be offended if it disappeared in this ink. Hmm...and the forehead does not hurt anymore.
Okay, I do not know what happened here ... and what happened to me, but I liked the ink stuff. Wait a second...why I call this stuff ink? I do not know the composition of this garbage! Call it ink, just because your inner voice said so? Well, I don't see the point to disagree.
I gave to this strange tutorial corridor my last look and continue to walk towards the station. It should be nearby. But something tells me, that this is not gonna be easy. Bullet holes and traces of blood on the walls again, floor in the cracks and there is a blood trail, leading somewhere ahead. This is unnerving. Just what the fuck is going on here - and how many times did I ask that question to myself already? Irrelevant...I need to think and move.
The trail has let me to the door near staircase and the lift. Door was slightly opened with a title – traitors' hall. I opened it, with expectation of something terrible, but I saw something far worse that I can imagine in my worst dreams.
There was a handmade pillars from scrap - around 12-14, maybe more. And each one of them had god damn fresh corpse attached to it with a small pool of blood near them. I can't fucking believe what I'm seeing here! I.. I slowly take a couple of steps forward, focusing of victims. Just of curiosity and no sense of self preservation with a little laugh, just to make myself even more nervous. This is so wrong, so fucked up.
I looked at one of them...Ah?! Mother of fucking nerfed Mercy...It- it. A human?! No-no-no. Look closer. It look almost like human, but changed! He look like a sick mix between blue and green colors with elven ears and tentacles on their heads. Realization struck me. Do I look like th-t-t-these mutants?! Oh hell no-o-o! This is so wrong on SO MANY fucking levels...I just hope they are dead.
I Know this is a cliche move of a brain every dead teenager from a horror movie, but I'll touch the body jus to make sure and - a flash of pain struck and pushed me away. All the corpses came back to life with lights emitting out of their eyes and mouths! With a painful howl they tried to break free...while looking at me. I started to scream in panic and run away...deeper into this hall. But the pillars never ended! There were more and more and MORE of them with the same twisting ...screaming...undead bodies!
I slipped and fell into the ground, looking into screaming madness, losing hope. Fear already drowned out my cries...Pain infected my brain. And... I started to hear...Their Fury...their Sorrow...their Joy... their End with no will. I lost myself in it...lost control, any sense of my actions. All i saw...all i felt...is them. They want me, to join them...share their fate and find peace into lies of sanitization. But it all ended fast...with a sound of broken stairs and painful hit to the ground.
Observation suspended...
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