[A. I.]
The elevator is stark and smells of disinfectant. Sabitsuki fidgets with her grimy shirt, listening to the low rumble of the machines as they do their work. But then there's a chugging, then a clanging, and finally with a harsh, rough, CRASH, like the gears just choked, the process stops.
Sabitsuki wonders what is wrong. Scarlet lights and the shrieking of the alarms give her an answer. So she waits. She is a patient young girl.
Soon enough, the alarm cuts off, but the lights remain active. Another malfunction? She blinks.
Rust is curdling around the door frame, forming a single word above the entryway, christening the oxidation as it spreads. The smell assails her dry nostrils, and they burn without bleeding. Then the elevator opens with a tiny dinging sound, and she steps out into another pristine hall.
The doors close behind her. Upon investigation, they do not budge, and there are no buttons to call the elevator back.
She moves on.
Little red creatures with horns and claws skitter around her, in a manner similar to the snow-white school children and their ruined faces. One touches her, and there is pain, coursing through her body for a millisecond. Sabitsuki doesn't cry out because it's enough of a struggle to breathe. She waits, and it fades.
The next entrance catches her attention; another coating of rust spreads from within, thicker than the first, leaking out onto the floor. Inside, there is only darkness. When she steps forward, the hall is illuminated. She keeps walking. The demons keep coming. Her nerves are soon raw with the strain of enduring their touches, barely perceptible at first, but like acid upon her skin. When she takes a breath, it comes out wet and ragged, and the walls gradually transform to reflect the agony brewing in her lungs.
On and on, it goes. The demons become taller, more humanoid, but never truly human; for humans lack claws and black fangs and breath like rotten meat.
And when Sabitsuki finds that which she has sought this twisted world for, a feeling of liberation floods her frail body, and her legs tremble.
Here is the end.
As she crosses through the final entryway, she remembers Oreko. Thinks of her optimism, her little world of machines beneath the water, and how she would have have wanted Sabitsuki to keep her head held high. And so she approaches her fate with a smile.
The walls are smooth, colored in tones of dirty scarlet, yet the room is devoid of demons and schoolchildren. In fact there is nothing here but a metal chair. In it rests another Kaibutsu. Sabitsuki frowns, wondering if the figure is even alive. She really doesn't want to find out the hard way, but it's not moving, not breathing. She turns back to the entryway.
Her heart stops beating for a moment. There is nothing here but a seamless, slick wall. She pushes down the rush of panic clawing at her insides; she can always wake up. But when she tries logging out, there is nothing but a blank screen.
Perhaps this is to be her personal, private Hell.
Sabitsuki looks back at the motionless Kaibutsu. Should she try killing it? She's far more vulnerable in this state, but if she can somehow get the upper hand before it notices her, then maybe….
She draws nearer, ever vigilant. It does not stir, and her heart pounds on in her chest. She's close enough that she can take in details. The figure is lithe and feeble, dressed in a modest black skirt and sleeveless shirt, tattered and smudged, and…wait.
Sabitsuki stops dead in astonishment. In horror. Her mind, weakened by pain and physical taxation, now struggles to comprehend the sight before her. It's impossible, and yet….
"What are you?" she croaks in disbelief.
The figure twitches at the sound, hushed as it is. And a reflection of her looks up. Emotion twists its delicate features, a near-perfect copy of her own. But incomplete. Bits of pallid skin are peeling from her doppelgänger's face, arms and neck, but instead of muscle and bone, it reveals a tarnished exoskeleton, framed by cracking rubber and frayed, copper wires. Its hair is tangled and matted, a concrete grey rather than silver. One of its eyes is red like the blood trickling from the corners of Sabitsuki's lips, glowing as it fixes upon her. The other is missing.
The automaton blinks with a mechanical clicking sound, much like a camera. Its face contorts. Its lips move as if it's trying to speak, but no sound comes from its throat.
"I'm sorry," Sabitsuki says hoarsely. "I can't understand you."
The automaton's expression crumbles.
And then it moans. A harsh, ungodly sound, of grief, of anger, a cascade of emotions that she cannot possibly hope to identify, and her copy lunges forward. Sabitsuki flinches, ready for the worst, but the automaton's first impulse is not to tear into her vulnerable flesh, not to split her head against the walls and taint it with brain matter, but to seize her tightly, like a frightened child would do to its parent.
Sabitsuki doesn't understand, and doesn't dare speak for fear of what might happen. After a long moment of silence, slowly, the creature looks to her. It takes hold of her wrist, placing her right hand over its grey throat, much colder than a normal girl's. With the other hand, it brings her left one to its pale lips and mouths one word, slow and deliberate against her palm.
Escape.
Sabitsuki doesn't ask why, doesn't protest. Her lungs burn and her head is swimming; there's no time to waste.
"What will happen to you?" she asks. "And to me?"
It releases her to curl steel-tipped fingers around her neck. The other hand touches the back of her own with cracked fingertips, then it gestures to itself, grip tightening around her throat. The message is clear.
Sabitsuki understands, even though she'd give anything in this moment not to. She shakes her head weakly.
"No." Even her protest is piteous. "Don't do this. Please."
The automaton is no longer somber. Its good eye glows brighter. Its grip on her neck tightens suddenly, hard enough to bruise. And it drags her fragile body down into a deadly embrace of teeth and claws.
There is no contest between them.
Sabitsuki tries to scream. Rasps. Her lungs betray her. Blood bubbles inside her chest like a pot of boiling water. Dry drowning.
They are rolling around on the floor, human and machine. It's wet and hot and sticky down here, like a living thing's guts. The copy of her cannot form words, but its mouth is open wide, wide enough that she can see the row of jagged, razor-sharp teeth protruding from its plastic gums. It emits a terrible sound — low-pitched and broken and drawn out, like a wounded animal — before it sinks its teeth into her shoulder, her chest, her arms, tearing at flesh, scraping bone. Does it again, again, again, and then clamps down on her neck and refuses to let go.
Sabitsuki spasms uncontrollably. Her eyes roll back in her skull, but she cannot scream for the pain of it. The last thing she knows before the end is the poison corrupting her, fear and regret.
And then there is nothing.
A/N: My taste in genres is unpredictable. .flow is a cool game. Check it out if you've got a strong stomach; it's not for the faint of heart.