So I feel like most of you were disturbed slightly by the last chapter.

Good.

Desmond couldn't focus on this shitty little report anymore. He wasn't a scientist, or the scholarly type, or anything like that. He was just the errand boy, the fuck was he doing this for? Trying to use it as a distraction wasn't helping him anymore. He kept glancing over at Alex sprawled on the bed, finally asleep after today's horrorfest. For how long until the virus lost its goddamn mind again, there was no telling. Hopefully it would Alex rest for a couple more hours before it had another field day.

Desmond kept to himself to the couch, occupied by one of Abstergo's amazing portable tablets that did everything. Writing up a report with one sentence, or playing games, browsing the web. Mostly just doing his best to stay awake. And if he did fall asleep, at least it wouldn't be near Alex in case he flipped out again. That…thing already broke skin once, what's to say it couldn't do it again?

Desmond set the tablet aside and stretched, letting out a yawn. Maybe going to sleep would be a good idea. He just needed to talk to someone first and then he'd grab his pillow. Desmond closed all the apps on the tablet, and opened up Abstergo's own little IMing network. The person he was looking for, was of course online, probably monitoring them. Hopefully she'd humor him, he hadn't had anyone else to talk to except Alex, and that was only entertaining for so long;

WhiteEagle began chatting with StillHere

WE: Isn't it past your bedtime, young lady? c;

SH: Don't even start

SH: Shouldn't you be in bed too?

WE: Nooo. I got some mad science stuff to do.

WE: Of science.

WE: I'm an esteemed scientist now thank you very much

SH: Shut uuuup.

He couldn't help but grin. He missed talking to her. Three days felt like a long time to go without speaking to her.

WE: But I miiiiiiiiiiiiiised you. D: Didn't you misss meeee?

SH: Can I say no?

WE: D:

WE: T_T

SH: Please stop

WE: But you're so meaaaan. I'm locked up in a room with Dr. Mercerstein and his monster, and I just can't get a simple hello from you?

SH: Alright.

SH: Hello.

WE: Hiiiiiii. :D

SH: You talk like a thirteen year old girl, you know that?

WE: I doooo not!

SH: Go to bed Desmond

WE: No, youuu got bed. So I can sleep peacefully knowing you're not watching me.

SH: I'm not watching you guys right now

SH: I really couldn't after, you know

Shit.

WE: Saw all that?

SH: Perhaps

WE: Fuck me dude.

WE: And I can't back out?

SH: Nope. Not until the experiment is declared complete.

WE: unnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh

SH: Stop being a baby, Desmond. You can handle a few more days of this.

WE: I don't think I can as I watch my friend get eaten alive from THE INSIDE.

WE: I was just watching AND I GOT SICK.

WE: How long until that thing comes for me?

SH: It wouldn't do that to you.

SH: It likes you too much.

Excuse? Like him? No, no, no, the Blacklight virus didn't like anyone except Alex. And with the day Desmond was screaming at it today, the possibility of it liking him was kinda shot to hell. Wait….No!

WE: NO! NO! NOOO!

WE: Don't. Talk. About it. Like that.

WE: It's not a living thing

WE: It doesn't have feelings

WE: It just eats! It's a little killing machine with one thing on its mind

WE: Lunch

She didn't respond to him right away. Several times he saw the little bar at the bottom pop up to show she was typing, but just as many times it dropped away. Ugh, whatever she was typing, it was probably some big lecture on how unserious he was taking this and blah blah blah. Essentially the same shit Alex had been telling him since they were locked in here.

WE: You know what, never mind forget I said anything.

She finally responded to that;

SH: Regardless how you feel about the virus, you have to deal with it

SH: If Alex's hypothesis is correct, it's going to get attached to him in more ways than one

SH: So if you don't watch it, you're not just going to have a sad virus on your hands…

WE: But a sad Alex too

WE: Great.

WE: You're an incredibly reassuring person.

SH: I try my best.

SH: Go play nice Desmond.

StillHere has logged off

"Biiiiiiitch" Desmond mutters under his breath as he turns the tablet off. He sets it aside and heaves himself off the couch to walk over to the bed to retrieve his pillow. That would have been the plan if Alex's head wasn't already on it. Fuck. Alex's own pillow was trapped under one of his arms, which Desmond wasn't even gonna attempt to try and grab. "Why do you do this to me?" he whispers, placing a knee down on the mattress and reaching out to grab his pillow out from under the scientist's head.

Alex let out a gasp, and in the dim light, Desmond could see his body pop up. Shit. "No no, shhh, Alex it's just me, shhh" and Desmond's hand reached up higher. Without really thinking about it, he bushes away raven black locks Alex's forehead, and he's carding his fingers through curled hair. Alex's body flattens again, and the other man is back to sleep. Desmond lets out a small sigh of relief.

As gently as he can, Desmond flips off the bed and just decides to sleep without his pillow.

x-X-X-x

It feels tired. So tired. Very tired. No energy. No will. It feels limp, and weak, and It has to drag itself through the Master's systems. Exhausted. Yes, that is the word to describe how It felt. It worked, so hard, so so hard. The hardest It ever has. And It was exhausting. For one so physically weak, the Master's immune system was so strong, so resistant. The immune system did not like It. Unfortunately for the immune system, It did not care. It was built to invade, receive, and remake. In the words of the Master that It did not fully comprehend yet, the immune system could go suck a dick. Whatever that was.

No dicks were sucked, but It it finally had to declare It's job done, and rest. It was tired. The Master was tired. They were both so tired. It did not mean to exhaust the Master. But It also certainly didn't expect to bring so much pain to the Master either. That could not be helped, It would hurt him either way. If only the Master and the Rich One didn't scream so much. If only It knew how to soothe, reassure, the pan was part of the process. It could not be any more gentle if It tried.

Soon, It would have the Master consumed. And the Master would be so pleased. It could already feel the Master's happiness at It's work. And tomorrow, tomorrow It would do so much more! Or perhaps the day after, the arms were such work. Hard work. Exhausting work. So tired. For now It had to focus on keeping the arms, building strength, resting…

The bed the Master lies on dips, and It panics for a moment, enough to jostle the Master awake. But the Master is quickly soothed back into sleep. This, It feels frustration at. The Rich One, poised over the Master, stroking his hair, shooshing him, lulling him back into peace. Why can't It feel that? The motions and actions of these blood sacks confused It so. But the Rich One, the Rich One was the main source of It's frustration. The Rich One was intoxicating to be near. So badly It wanted to be touched by the Rich One. To dive beneath his skin and feel every last bit of him. To take him apart and see how glorious he tasted.

Just to tear apart his blood and see the history behind it…

One day. Soon. It had the Master to take care of first, but one day, it would spread and achieve replication of the highest caliber.

Enter players 3 and 4.