Eleven :::

Alive


"Goddess!" Shalia recoils back in her seat, unable to fathom what her eyes see on the holographic screen of her omni-tool. Wired into the last few functioning surveillance cams spread in various sections of the complex, she sits glued into her chair trying to make sense of the chaotic scene that has unfolded before her eyes.

Centered on the security camera's lens, she sees a pair of humans frantically dashing up a set of stairs but not after barricading the door from which they came. Through the footage, Shalia is able to see that the door continuously jolts violently as if a wicked storm is behind it thrusting it forward. But she knows exactly what it is thrashing on it from the other side and it certainly isn't the wind.

Her key interest is in the humans who have retreated upstairs and out of reference with the surveillance footage. Try as she might, Shalia shuffles through the various camera feeds on her omni-tool in an effort to require where the humans had went. Her efforts prove fruitless where screen after screen displays a blacken image with the words 'offline' hovering in the center.

"Where did you go?" She muses aloud to herself.

Shalia is aware that the human survivors are in the residential area of the hospital, an area long since evacuated during the outbreak. Those unfortunate enough or fast enough to evacuate in time were cut off when the quarantined protocols activated. Same went for the administration wing, where it is believed the outbreak had initially began. Shalia can't recall the exact moment, she was catching some much needed rest from her mentally exhausting tasks of extracting information from the heads of those subjects for project Telermore. She was shaken awake by the sounds of gunfire and a contingent of CEC guards rushing into her room for extraction. Everything from that point on felt like a dream where the guards dragged her out of bed and into a nightmare.

Somehow, the monstrosities depicted in the various subjects' minds were right before her face in reality. She locked eyes with one—she didn't exactly know what it was but she felt the similar hopelessness she had sensed from the subjects when she matched eyes with the thing. Dozens of guards discharged their weapons frantically into the thing which did absolutely nothing to stall its aggressive advancements. Five of the guards had risk their lives to ensure Shalia and other CEC personnel escaped through the now sealed breezeway that connect the various sectors of the complex. Shalia along with the other survivors fled for the top level of the residential wing where they hoped to escape via the crossover tube, which proved to be of false open door to freedom. For the pass few hours, she along with fifty other frighten employees have been stranded in the main atrium with their only salvation transformed into the exact opposite.

Leaning forward in her chair, Shalia becomes increasing frustrated with the many dead camera feeds on her omni-tool. What good is it to tap into the security network when ninety percent of it is pretty much useless? There can be dozens more survivors like the one's she saw out there right now and they need her help as much as she needs theirs. They've been out there the longest and she's certain they faced those things one way or another. From her acquired knowledge from the subjects is that there is a way in stopping these creatures. Somehow, each of them knew how to take them down… something about limbs…

Shalia forces herself to look away from her omni-tool and closes her eyes, leaning back in the plush leather chair. In the crevasse of her thoughts, she allows the spontaneous interworking parts of her ability to draw her to one of the subject's minds from the experiments. She never caught the subject's actual name, only the initials I.C.. He had some of the most distinguishable residual traits out of the many she had melded with. He also held the most resistances, but when she bypassed his harden subconscious wall, she was granted with clean, clear images of utter horror and terror unlike anything she'd ever encountered during a melding. She took on his pain and suffering and often wondered how he had the will to carry on.

Over the extensive months of the projects commencement, the other subjects couldn't bare the pain and killed themselves by bashing their brains out on the toilets in their cells. One, Shalia had heard about, asphyxiated herself with a plastic water bottle. Their bodies had later been cremated… their ashes jettisoned into the void as if common space trash.

Shalia has never encounter so much suffering in one place and she also doesn't understand how humans can do such atrocities to their own kind. Then again, her species have their fair share of inflicting violence to one another, its organic nature to destroy one another, she supposes.

Eliminating her internal musing, Shalia refocuses herself to concentrate on those acquired thoughts cataloged in her head. After a few moments of deep breathing and concentration, she begins to see a picture materializing, mainly a voice, echoing through the infinite void of the subconscious mind.

"…that's how you stop these things—arms—legs… use'a cutter knife—anything with a fuckin edge just cut em' up…!"

Flashing her eyes open with a rushed sigh, Shalia springs up to the edge of her seat, rubbing a hand at her temples. "Their appendages… that's how we kill them," she says to herself. A small creep of a smile breaks the stiffness of her face.

Rising up from her seated position, Shalia steps around the desk she's been sitting behind and approaches a small window nearby. Looking through it, she scans her eyes across the expansive space of the atrium where at the far side lies the Plexiglas vestibule for the crossover tram, vacant of any activity. Mingling along the atrium are the dozens of survivors clumped in groups or just sitting by themselves. From her vantage point, Shalia can tell many of them are still shell-shocked from the ordeal or the fact that they are trapped with their only way out being a certain suicide endeavor.

Shalia can't believe her luck. Here she is again in a similar life-or-death situation as she was several years ago on Feros. Only that time she was unpinned from danger with the help of the first Human Specter, she doesn't believe her luck is favorable this time around.

From behind, she hears someone stepping into her vicinity. Through the reflection in the glass window, Shalia makes out one of the security guards that escaped the chaos that erupted within the administration wing.

"Well… saw anything out there?" The young Human asks.

Shaila shakes her head, "I saw something," she replies, her gaze fixed starring through the window. "Survivors… two of of them a few levels below us."

She hears the scuffing of the human's boots near her but comes to an abrupt halt. "What? Then we have to do something—we… we have to tell Strummer and…"

"He's only interested in saving his own pathetic self," Shalia replies with a contained tone. "You shouldn't insert yourself with that being."

The Human snickers, "trust me, I've tried. But…as much as I hate to say it… he's in charge here, and he had the right idea in setting up those sentry guns when we had the chance."

That's one thing Shaila agrees with. If it weren't for those guns then she and everyone here would be dead by now. It's their only defense against those things from coming up through the crossover tramway but it's also their only way in escaping this place alive. She doesn't believe help will arrive any time soon or at all in that matter. Shalia knows they will have to take the first move, to face this unknown and violent enemy and survive this ordeal. And in doing so, she also believes that in order to do that, they'll need these survivors—whoever they are.

"We won't be able to stay here for prolong periods of time," Shalia says.

She turns her gaze away from the window, Shalia finally faces the young human male who calls himself Aiden Richardson. Unlike Strummer and the other guards, Aiden is reasonable decent though naïve, she can see it in the way he carries himself around others. Yet behind that almost innocent façade of the young human, Shalia senses that he has a determined nature about him… along with a mix of deep apprehension.

"Soon, we're going to have to take a chance and carve our own way out of here," she says, now giving Aiden her full attention.

His mouth quivers before speaking, "t-that's insane… Strummer won't—"

"Forget about him!" Shalia interrupts sharply. "You honestly think he'll protect you once those temporary defenses are rendered useless? Like I said, he's only in it for himself—no one more." She turns her attention back to the neon illumination of her omni-tool. "You fail to see far from your own eyes, but what we have here is temporary. These creatures… whatever they are, I have an understanding in stopping them. But for it to work, we'll need assistance…"


Nearly out of breath from running, his heart slamming in his chest, Isaac doubles over placing his hands on his boney knees and takes a breath. The others continue pass at a brisk pace in the darken corridor. The adrenaline that fueled his body is beginning to fizzle out leaving a jittery electric tingle through his bloodstream. Leaning his back against a wall, Isaac looks back down the corridor from which they came. The noise from the staircase no longer audible, nothing but the hollow silence of the hallway fills his ears.

He feels a hand brush against his arm, slightly startling him for a moment.

"Easy… just me," Isabel says. "Here, found this back downstairs," she hands Isaac a grey hoodie.

"Thanks," he says, pulling his arms through the garment. It's a bit large on him, then again, he's lost a tremendous amount of weight since his imprisonment here. Examining his new set of clothes, Isaac releases a dry laugh at the insignia running the length of the sleeve to his jacket. "N'7 huh?"

Isabel shrugs, "It was either that or the Blasto T-shirt. Too bad Kuttner beat you to the punch on that one."

Isaac cracks a genial grin. Reflecting back on that stressful moment downstairs, Isaac didn't have time to make out that awful graphic of a Hanar armed with five weapons in each tentacle depicted on Nick's shirt. It's the funniest thing he's seen thus far since walking through this hell. Isabel seems to be the only normally dressed person out of the group, having found a complete set of mismatch, loose fitting clothes. It must feel good to be out of those coarse, dingy hospital garbs.

Fully regaining his composure, Isaac takes his back off the wall. "We should keep moving, those things can catch up any second."

Isabel nods in agreement, getting into step alongside Isaac. Stross and Nick are a few steps ahead of them, Nick wavering his light into each corner of space they cross. Behind him, Stross moves as if walking across eggshells, the consistent babbling uttering out from his mouth becomes more premediate than before. Nothing but an endless slew of whispery words escape through his lips, clawing at his wild hair… he's beginning to crack even more.

"So about our new friends…" Isabel says, bringing up the obvious and present threat. "You and Stross encountered them how exactly?"

The haunting and inconceivable images of the looters' corpse transforming before Isaac's eyes replays in his mind. He still can't believe what the hell he saw or if it was his madness catching up to him. Still, the rotting, fleshy stench of the reanimated corpses and their disjointed screams reminds him that it isn't some violent illusion.

"There were these people," Isaac begins to explain, his voice in a monotone. "Scavengers—two men, searching for food in the mess hall. One of them, he… he held Stross and me at gunpoint and…"

Isabel stops in her tracks, prompting Isaac to do the same. "You… you killed them?" She says, a voice wavering a bit. "That's where the blood came from on Stross' shirt…?"

Isaac doesn't reply right away. At first, he reconsiders elaborating any further of the encounter, but the words come out faster than his frantic mind can prevent them. "He stabbed one of them."

Through the near dark, the woman expels a gasp, "my God! And you didn't stop the fuckin' maniac!?"

"I tried!" Isaac counters, feeling anger creeping up his back. "But Stross… I didn't know he was going to do that—I didn't know he'll kill someone!"

Isabel closes the distance between them, coming inches from Isaac. "The piece of shit murdered his own family!" She says in a low yet intense voice. "Thought someone like you wouldn't figure that something was wrong with him from the get-go."

She's right and Isaac can tell she's holding back from sculling him any further. He gave her his word that he could handle Stross, yet he let this happen. It's his fault they have these… things chasing them now. Thinking back to it all, Isaac should have left Stross to be killed by his own creations… some form of poetic justice in a sense. But then again, what would that prove, and how much will Isaac and the others lose if Stross ends up dead.

"You should had put a bullet right between his eyes," Isabel says sternly, backing away from Isaac. "At least then he wouldn't kill any of us, y'know?"

"Trust me, I was a blink away from blowing his head off," Isaac says. "But then I remembered how much we'll lose—the information in his head. He must know about what's going on with us. He holds the key to this entire nightmare, Isabel."

"And what… you think that man's sane enough to even tell us?!" She says incredulously. "What—we're just gonna sit around a campfire and he'll just spill the fuckin' beans out of that fucked up head of his."

"I don't know," Isaac replies, shaking his head.

"So in the meantime he's just going to be walking 'round with us until he finds someone else to butcher, is that it?"

"I don't know," Isaac repeats with more weights on his words. He finds the woman's eyes in the shadows. "You think I like this any more than you do? I saw him rip another human being's neck out with a goddamn fork! Above all else I want him dead too—secrets or not. But these are the cards we've been handed… and it's all we got."

Isabel doesn't say anything in return, unfolding her arms.

Isaac exhales a sigh, allowing his temper to simmer down, "and if he does try to hurt you, or Nick or anyone else we come across… I'll stop him myself."

The woman holds his gaze for a while before shaking her head. "I don't know who's crazier…" with that, she turns and walks away. Isaac takes a moment to reflect on her words. Is his madness influencing his judgment? Why is he keeping Stross around even after witnessing firsthand how unhinged he is…?

"Hey…" Isabel calls back to him, yanking him out of thought.

Burying the startling thoughts to the back of his head, Isaac forces himself to move once more. The faster they get to the crossover tube the better. Matching Isabel's walking pace, the two trial a considerable distance from Nick and Stross who are halfway down the corridor to a turn off point which'll bring them down towards the mess hall, where this shitstorm all started.

"You still didn't answer my question," Isabel says after a lengthy pause between the two. "Where'd those things come from?"

"You already know," Isaac replies. He looks to the woman walking at his side and says, "it's them, the scavengers Stross killed. They… came back—I don't know how, I just saw…" Isaac cuts his sentence short. There is no full explanation as to what he saw… only that he vaguely remembers encountering a similar thing on the Ishimura. Even then, he's sure, he didn't know what the hell was happening.

Isabel is a loss for words, she doesn't utter a sound or a reply. Isaac can't see her face in transcending darkness but he envisions that usual perplexed scowl she wears ninety-percent of the time he's around her. He doesn't know if she believes what he just told her, and to be honest, he doesn't care. None of it will matter if they die on this station, anyway.

The rest of the journey to the mid-floor stair case is in silence, for Isaac can sense everyone's heighten tension, venturing through the dark corridors of the second floor. Occasionally, Isaac shoots a glance to Stross' bloodied smock, a constant reminder of what kind of shit they got themselves into. Thinking back to the lethal altercation, Isaac can't help but feel ashamed for letting it drag out that long. Maybe if he revealed himself to the men sooner… maybe they'll still be alive—or could've even helped in a way. Maybe he and the others won't be running for their lives while desperately clawing for a way out.

"This is all my damn fault," Isaac mutters to himself. He brings his head up, looking at the others in front of him. Nick leads, shining his flashlight ahead of the group with Isabel trailing behind him. Behind her is Stross, infrequently talking to himself while pulling at the wild bush of hair on his head.

Even Isaac is beginning to wonder why he's keeping the man around even after seeing firsthand what he's capable of. The man's a beyond psychotic—a serial killer and he's just walking alongside everybody unrestraint.

Balling his fist, Isaac fights back that dark crevasse in his mind, tempting him into doing something regretful. He's not a killer, he's not like Stross, but for how long can he keep distancing himself from his own insanity, only time will tell.

"These look like the stairs," Nick says from up ahead, shinning the beam of his light into the darken staircase. "I think…"

Isaac and the others form up alongside him, starring into the stair room.

"The hell is this?" Isabel says, referring to the makeshift blockade preventing their advance upward.

"Could be more people," Isaac says, his heart beginning to race with apprehension. Running into other survivors seems to stem dire consequences these days. This entire station feels off, like everyone's being driven mad by some unseen force. Now that he thinks back to it, those two guys had that same sickness, though subtle, but it was still there.

Shaking the thought aside, Isaac is brought back to the present by Nick shifting pass him towards the haphazard blockade of office fixtures bashed in place.

"Think we can move this shit outta the way," Nick says, pulling a loose object out from the pile.

"Now hold on," Isabel speaks. "How do we know there aren't any more of those things upstairs?"

"We don't," Nick says with a grunt. He successfully yanks the object out. "But we know we got two of dem on our ass right now. And besides, this the only way to the crossover tubes."

Looking back towards the way they had come from, Isaac sees that the darken corridor is vacant, but he fears that won't be the case at any minute now. Moving forward is all they can do, there is no turning back.

"Here," he hands Isabel the flashlight, "keep watch."

She gives him a nod, clicking the light on and turning towards the corridor.

Stross leaning against the wall nearby, Isaac passes the man by joining Nick on clearing the blockage.

"Someone did a mean job in blocking this staircase, huh?" Nick notes.

"I just hope they're friendly," Isaac replies in a low voice.

"I just wanna get to my daughter man. I know she's out there," Nick says. A slight pause comes between the two besides the pull and yank of the objects in their wake. Nick sighs, then says, shaking his head a bit. "She's… she's all I got, man. I cain't lose her like this..."

For the first time, Isaac hears the other man's voice waiver a bit.

"I cain't lose her in this place," Nick goes on, after taking a deep breath.

"You're gonna see her again, Nick," Isaac assures him. "Okay—you just gotta push a little bit more man—I know you can."

Again, the man goes quiet, then says, "don't worry 'bout me, Isaac. I can still hold my own."

Isaac only nods to the man's response, wiping a slick of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie. Whoever set this barricade up used like every piece of office equipment imaginable. It's obvious whoever did were aware of the creatures that chase Isaac and his group. He just hopes there aren't any more of those things upstairs.

Isaac and Nick are partly through the junk pile, taking their time moving piece by piece to prevent the entire mass from crashing down on top of them. Seeing no point in touching any of the bottom large pieces of debris, Isaac and Nick focus on shifting the top layer of crap aside. In the end, everyone'll have to crawl their way through the slight opening to reach the other side.

Good thing we're all loose in the cage, Isaac muses.

Halfway through the mass, Isaac and Nick come to a halt when they hear Isabel shushing them from the bottom of the stairs. An intense quiet hovers over the group, Isaac and Nick share a glance then look down the stairs at Isabel retreating behind the doorjamb alongside Stross, now sitting back against the wall.

"They're coming," she whispers intensely.

"Shit," Nick swears. "We gotta hurry this up."

The two begin to dig frantically at the mass, knocking objects nosily down the stairs.

Stross jerks up to his feet, responding to the sound of the crashing objects hitting the floor.

Hard plaster and glass cuts at Isaac's fast moving hands, but with the adrenaline running through his veins, he hardly feels the pain. Unlatching one last piece of junk, Isaac feels his arm slip halfway through the mass, creating a path to the other side.

"That's it—we're through!" Isaac says.

Cutting into his sentence, the ever approaching gargles of the pursing dead reverberate down the corridor.

Isaac turns to see Isabel clicking the flashlight off and ducking back into the near-darkness of the stair-room. "They're just down the hall—coming right at us!"

"It's okay, we got it," Isaac says.

"I'll go first," Nick volunteers, preparing himself to slip through the jagged tunneling of junk.

"Alright—just be quick," Isabel urges.

The taller man pockets his flashlight and dives arms first into the tunnel. His body horizontal to the stairs, Nick pulls himself through the slight opening until only his legs are dangling out. From down the stairs, the maddening gargles of the creatures become louder, and Isaac feels his heart explode with terror once more. This barrier is their last and final chance in finally ending this prolonged chase, if only they hurry, that is.

"Shit!" Nick mutters as his body jolts but goes nowhere. "Think I'm caught-up here—man!"

"You're stuck!?" Isabel retorts incredulously.

"Just give him a push," Isaac says, setting himself in a position to give Nick a hard push. Reaching an arm awkwardly through the tight spacing of the tunnel, Isaac's hand finds purchase on Nick's buttocks. With all his limit strength, Isaac shoves—thrusting his weight into the push as well. Opposite to him on the staircase, Isabel is also giving Nick a push.

Through their combined efforts, Isaac begins to feel Nick nudge an inch or two in… about the time his arm grows numb from the exertion.

"Com'on—I'm almost there!" Nick's muffled voice hollers back. "One more push and I'm through."

Ignoring the droplets of sweat tainting his forehead and the ragdoll feeling of his arm, Isaac exhales a deep breath and gives another hard push. Just when Isaac believes his arm is about to give out, he feels his firm hold on Nick slip and the taller man spills out onto the other side.

"Okay," Isaac sighs turning to Isabels. "You're next."

She nods, preparing herself to squeeze through the slight opening, when the distorted screams of the pursing undead reverberate loudly through the staircase.

Twirling around, Isaac's heart explodes upon seeing the reanimated corpses at the foot of the staircase. Stross lets out a yelp, staggering over his feet as he backpedals frantically up the flight of stairs.

"We aren't going to make it," Isaac hears Isabel utter—the woman starring wide-eyed at the advancing monstrosities charging up the length of the stairs, pincers swaying over the mutilated features of their bodies.

Fear snakes its way through Isaac's chest as he stares at the creatures—at his own death coming to meet him. Their glowing, amber eyes cut through the near-dark, drilling their way into his own face. For a moment, everything falls quiet… and he actually feels at peace, for once since this entire ordeal had begun.

But then, shattering Isaac's tranquilly acceptance of death is suppressed by a burning desire to fight—to live. The cold grip of fear at the pit of stomach is replaced with something else... some driving force dictating his mind to act now.

Turning his head, Isaac makes out an elongated piece of bent metal sticking out form the pile. He shifts over to it and yanks the metal bar free, discovering that it's a table leg. Shifting his attention back to the advancing corpses, Isaac tightens his grip on the metal, absorbing the coolness of it into the heat of his palm. Without a word to Isabel or Stross, Isaac feels his body jumping into motion even before his mind could catch up.

Diving down the stairs, Isaac angles his body midair so that his boney shoulder collides into the first walking corpse, knocking it off its feet. Together, they tumble down the stairs, careening into the other corpse and it too joins the fray of plummeting bodies. Hitting the bottom landing awkwardly on his side with the wind nearly knocked out of him, Isaac recovers off the floor flanked by both creatures who themselves begin to stagger back up to their feet.

Before either could, Isaac backtracks towards the entryway shooting a glance up at Isabel and Stross—hardly visible at the top. "Go—get outta here!" He shouts. Unable to wait for a reply, Isaac dashes back into the corridor, purposely banging the metal table leg against the wall to stir the creatures' attention his way.

"Com'on—right here—come and get me!"

Recovering off the floor, the reanimated corpses' growl with heated malice and charge after Isaac. Backpedaling through the stricken darkness of the hall, Isaac continues to instigate the creatures to bait him. Walking backwards, and keeping his eyes trained on their every move, the shock of his early maneuver begins to wear-off enough for Isaac to start generating an actually feasible plan. If he's lucky, he can lure these guys away and hopefully double back to the staircase back to the others. Though he'll have to stay one step ahead of—

—Catching his back-stepping foot off-guard, Isaac loses his balance and falls back to the floor. The metal bar flings from his grasps, vanishing into the prolong darkness. Seeing nothing but the darkness of the ceiling, his vision becomes consumed by one of the creatures—now looming before him.

Before he can even react, the sharpen appendages of the creature chomp down upon him. Wide-eyed—bewilderment mixed with terror, Isaac utters a yelp the second his hands reach out to grab the arms from severing his head. He catches the synchs—the palms of his hands ultimately sliced and quickly become saturated with blood…but his head is still on top his shoulders, well for now.

The grueling strength of the undead disarms Isaac's scant strength and both sharpen appendages chomp down on him. An intense pain…not like anything Isaac has ever felt assaults his shoulder. Like the bones under his skin that made up his collar and shoulder blade had exploded into fragments and his arm amputated. He lets out a hush scream of agony as he turns his head only to see one of the sharpen appendages jammed deep within his own flesh. Hurled up, the creature slams Isaac into the wall, sinking the sharpen bard deeper into Isaac's flesh.

In an instant, Isaac is suddenly flung to the side and sent flying down the length of the corridor before crashing down hard on his damaged shoulder. He nearly passes out from the instant hot pain that erupts, but somehow, he remains conscious enough to hear the cacophony of noise erupting behind him.

Unable to turn around to see what's going on, Isaac can only hear the sound of abrupt impacts smashing into objects—the constant and incoherent screams of the corpses… of air snapping like a whip. None of it registers anything familiar to his faded senses…only thing he registers is pain, of the smell of his own blood seeping from the gaping wound at his shoulder and spilling from his hands. He can do nothing but struggle to keep his eyes open to the pressing darkness cloaking him, for however long he possibly can.

The thunderous sound that had embraced the corridor all but ceases to the point where Isaac can literally hear the wet thwack of his blood dripping to the dirty floor beneath him. Not even the head shattering shouts from the corpses' batter his senses. His eyes halfway open, a constant dull ring to his ears… he faintly hears footsteps heading his way—shoed footfalls.

Chocking a weak, painful breath, Isaac struggles to turn his head in the direction of the approaching person. Only his gaze comes out just short, but he can faintly sense the person standing over his destroyed body.

"Don't try to move," he hears the person say, feminine in tone and also…oddly familiar.

Isaac stirs just a bit, he feels the cold touch of a hand against the side of his head. "Wh-where…" he chokes out, only to find his mouth as rigid as cement, his words sounding like mush.

"Just stay awake, human," the woman just of sight says to him, this time her voice sounds louder to his ear. And she called him human…

"Stay conscious, I need you alive."

Both pain and confusion course through Isaac's mind all at once. He tries to speak again, only to feel the wrapping warmth of unconsciousness washing over him, and he gives in.


An unknowable amount of time has passed by the time Isaac regains consciousness. The dull ping of a heart monitor machine drags him from his dreamless sleep and into a near-dark room, which holds the scent of various ointments and the starch odor of medi-gel

Noticing that his head is in an uncomfortable and awkward position, Isaac manages to unknot the taunt muscles in his neck and level his head. His vision instantly blurs in the motion of his own swiveling eyes, taking a moment to readjust. After of moment of feeling like his brain had gone swimming, Isaac is able to get a detailed pictured of his immediate surroundings. He's in a rather spacious room—void of any people or anything else of that matter besides a lone chair and table to his right. It takes him a split moment to realize that this isn't a room at all, but a foyer. At the end of the hall are a line of inert elevator doors, their dull, metallic surfaces gleam off a dim light source, situated nearby. Beyond the elevator doors look to be an automatic glass sliding door. The glass itself is opaque, though Isaac can still make out silhouetted forms moving beyond it.

Regarding himself, Isaac stares down at his numb body, noticing that his hoodie and underlying smock had been removed, leaving him naked from the waist up. A patchwork of bloodied bandages, along with the harden transparent clotting agent of the medi-gel—now mixed in the color of his own blood—cover the grisly wound that had damaged his shoulder. Testing his arm, Isaac notices that he can hardly move it any faster than a snails' pace.

May be nerve damage, he muses, allowing his arm to fall back to the armrest. In time, his arm should be good to go… but that only leaves him wondering where the hell he is now, and what happened to Isabel, Nick and Stross. The last thing he remembers is being knocked out by two of those things that had relentlessly chased them. He also remembers hearing a voice… but other than that, his mind is still numb from waking from unconsciousness.

Struggling to stand, Isaac discovers that his body is beyond weak. The effort to just stand puts him immediately out of breath… along with the dull pain of his wound wreaking his nerves. With no choice but to stay put, Isaac just stares at the glass sliding door down the length of the corridor watching the silhouette shadows of people shift from place to place. He can also hear voices… multiple ones, but otherwise he isn't able to make out what is being said.

After an extensive amount of time has gone by, Isaac hears the sliding door open. Picking his head up, he looks out upon a person approaching him. He squints to clear up his vision, making out a familiar looking asari. An icy sensation tickles Isaac's spine as he sits up tensely.

"You…?" Is all he can utter out before breaking into a coughing fit.

The asari dips somewhere to the side of Isaac's vision, she then returns holding something in her hand. "Take this."

Recovering enough from his cough, Isaac stares at the metallic flask in the asari's grasps with suspicion.

"You're apprehension is unneeded," the asari says, her voice low yet articulate. "If I wanted you dead, I would've left you to bleed out."

Picking up his gaze, Isaac stares into the alien's passive face. He remembers her face alright, those dark menacing eyes and calm voice… it all floods back to him like a rouge wave.

"Where am I—where are my friends," Isaac asks, discovering his voice flimsy and his throat dry as chalk.

The asari extends the flask his way again, "a side effect of medi-gel treatment is a vast loss of electrolytes," the asari says, dodging his questions by a thousand miles. "You may feel weak, dry, but this stimulus drink would make the recovery manageable."

"I'm not taking a damn thing from you…" Isaac coughs out. "Till you tell me what's going on here."

He holds the asari's gaze for a lingering moment, till seeing that fixed expression on her face twitch. Wordlessly, she turns away, placing the flask on a nearby desk. She then drags a chair into place in front of Isaac and quietly falls into it, draping one leg over the other.

"We're in deep shit," the asari sighs tensely, sinking back in her seat. "This entire facility is under attack by creatures that I believe you've faced before. Back on the USG Ishimura…"

Isaac freezes upon hearing the asari say that. His gaze locked on her face, "that was you," he says. "Who was in my head—who tormented me!?"

"I didn't mean to cause you harm, truly I didn't," the asari says. And Isaac felt some since of sincerity behind her words, though he keeps himself from letting his guards down so easily.

"I was under orders," the asari goes on to say, dipping her gaze a bit. "The people I worked with, they used me to determine what happened to you and the others. Only, they were ignorant of what they were getting themselves into…"

"The Red Marker," Isaac finds himself muttering out. Surprised by his own words, Isaac matches eyes with the asari, who looks at him with equal shock.

"You remember," the asari remarks, a sly grin forming across her leathery face.

"I remember the name, not what it means," Isaac says, coughing a bit.

"That's fine," the asari says, reaching for the flask. "Your mind's sharper than I would've imagined after what… after what I put you through."

Isaac hesitates before taking the flask from her hand. He takes a quick sip of the stimulus drink, noting the rejuvenating felling of the cool liquid trickle down his throat and unlocking his coiled insides.

"So what happened to these people you were with?" Isaac asks, taking a longer sip from the flask. "The people that held me captive?"

"They're dead," the asari says without hesitation. "Killed by their own blind ambition. And I thought we were next… until I came across you and your friends."

Isaac lowers the flask to his lap, "what do you mean? What do you want with us?"

"You've been through this before," the asari says. "You faced these things—all of you have. You survived, you're alive now because you knew how to combat them then."

Isaac shakes his head, "those things are unkillable," Isaac says with the shake of his head. "We tried everything to stop them and nothing worked."

The asari shakes her head, "not everything." She stands out from her chair, "and I'm confident you already know what I mean. Besides, you're the one who told me."

I told you? Isaac contemplates, confused by the asari's shaded explanation.

"I'll give you time to rest," the asari goes on to say, making her departure for the glass sliding door. "You'll need your energy for what's to come."

"What are you talking about?" Isaac says after her. "What's coming?"

The asari keys the door open turning to face Isaac halfway, "you're finale trial with me, Isaac Clarke." And with that, she takes her leave, sealing the door behind her.