Chapter XXX:

The House of Horrors

Amos returned to the meeting room where countless photos of priority targets from throughout the ages decorated his walls. They served as reminders of past adventures both alone and with his team.

While the ancient war waged anew outside, Amos found himself without the will to do much of anything. He sat down at the head of the table. A spot normally reserved for Ezekiel or the Prince during those rare visits. He examined the room. Glinted at the artifacts and documents that had accumulated over the years like so many war trophies. He eyed the dust that was layered atop every surface.

They should have returned by now. He should have received word from them somehow. Did they not know the Legion had returned and amassed a full-scale invasion force right in these very ruins? Could they not hear the Dragon's voice?

As Amos mulled over the possibilities, all while ignoring one particular possibility, his eyes fell upon a satchel lying amid the pile of papers. 9S's satchel. A black bag that contained whatever random equipment he needed on the field.

Amos stood up. He plucked it from the table and prepared to throw it over his shoulder lest he forget it a second time. As he performed the motion, a small necklace slipped free from an open zipper. The chain fell atop Amos' boot with a soft thud. Naturally, he looked down.

Five dog tags all strung up on the same rusty chain. YoRHa did not issue tags of this nature. These were familiar. Identical to the ones granted to him and his team years before their descent into Maso infection. He could not simply ignore this peculiar sight. He knelt before the tags and studied them closely.

Five names. Five painfully recognizable names were engraved upon them. There was no mistaking them. Each tag held within it, the names and information of his squadmates. From Ezekiel to Jubal. All five were accounted for. Amos felt dizzy. A sudden sense of vertigo threatened to sweep him clean off his feet. How? How did 9S obtain them?

It could only mean one thing. If the tags were here, yet had not been seen for thousands of years, there was only one obvious conclusion. An inevitable revelation that always ate away at Amos' thoughts during those quieter times. He could find no way to deny that he was, in fact, the sole survivor.

The very last of his kind.

Insult was added to grievous injury. These precious tags were being hidden from him by a vile, unfeeling robot wearing a boy's face. 9S? No.9? It made no difference. No matter how many years passed or how many name changes that boy would go through, he was always the same. A lying, conniving, soulless robot.

Just a stupid machine whose existence was comprised of mere ones and zeros. How Amos could be so fooled into thinking such a basic creature could be called a "friend" was well beyond his knowing.

A mistake that would never be made again.

His hands quaked with a cacophony of long-overdue grief. For the first time in 10,000 years, he let out a scream.

A distinctly human scream.

~O~

It was a rare occurrence that Devola chose to stay behind whilst in unfamiliar territory. Normally, in such haunted realms, she would opt to remain at the side of those closest to her. This time, Devola had no desire to go venturing through these unknown corridors.

Something about the air of this place left her feeling more uncomfortable than usual. She chose to sit and wait at the desk in the lobby. The old chair creaked under the weight of so much metal and silicon.

While she waited for the others to return, she dug around on the desk in search of whatever could capture her interest. Anything to pass the eerie time would be welcome. She laid her eyes upon a framed photograph lying in an old garbage bin. She plucked it from the discarded pile and held up her flashlight.

The photograph of a human family from the looks of it. Four smiling faces all staring right back at her. She met their joyous grins with her usual look of perpetual scorn. The picture only evoked more sorrow. Their smiles were so out of place in a world devoid of all hope.

She tossed the photo back into the garbage from whence it was unearthed. She suddenly smiled. A result not of the picture, but a certain memory. Buried somewhere in the rubble lying scattered on the coast was a photograph exactly like that one. A picture of herself, her twin, her lover, and two close friends.

Devola leaned back in her chair and relished those memories. Brighter thoughts barely held above a sea of fear and sorrow. Her recollections were cut painfully short. Somewhere in the humid dark of the lobby came a sound. A steady gurgling.

She stood up and checked every corner of the room for the source of this haunting disturbance. It stopped as soon as Devola was put on guard.

Desperate to get to the bottom of this mystery, she spoke up. "Who's there!?"

To her horror, she was indeed given her answer. A voice spoke out from directly behind her.

"Just me."

Devola shrieked and twirled around. She was in the act of reaching for Cruel Oath when she saw a pair of cobalt eyes staring back at her. The dread she once felt shifted to utter annoyance.

"Nines!?"

The boy smirked and took a showy bow. "The one and only."

"Do you just relish in my misery?"

9S voiced his confusion. "Huh?"

"You're doing it on purpose! Don't try to play innocent."

"Oh. I wasn't trying to scare you. Honest. We found the morgue but it's locked up. 153 said there might be a set of keys here. Seen anything like that?"

Devola shrugged. At no point was she ever intentionally seeking out keys of all things. She looked about but it did not take her long to find something of interest. A small glimmer shined under her flashlight. A metallic set of objects dangling from a hook on the wall just behind 9S. She pointed to it.

9S pulled the keys free and held them under her light. Several different keys all bound to the same metal hoop. He casually spun them around on his index finger, listening to the sound of their jingle.

"Thanks. Hopefully one of these is it."

"Did you walk here in the dark all by yourself," asked Devola. "How'd ya not get lost?"

"153 walked me part of the way. Thankfully I have you and your flashlight to keep me company on the way back."

With a teasing smirk, he extended a hand in hopes that Devola would take it. She remained reluctant. "Hold on. I said I was gonna stay behind on this. I don't wanna know what went on in this place. This lobby is creepy enough as is."

9S was undeterred. "All the more reason to stay close to me."

The word "Endurance" was painted over a sign near the entrance to an expansive network of corridors.

9S led the way while Devola was practically dragged alongside him. The halls kept going on and on. Either side of the corridor was lined with rooms, many of which were sealed up.

They stumbled upon an open entrance. Quizzical about the location and its history, 9S was compelled to poke his head inside. It was an old surgical chamber. Scalpels, scissors, and stitching materials lay scattered about. All abandoned in a hurry.

9S approached a bed at the center of it all. Devola pointed the flashlight his way. A skeleton was illuminated. Broken ribs jutted outward in every direction as if they had been forcefully pulled apart by hand. Brutal contortions and cracks in the bones showed this was no ordinary operation.

"What happened here," asked 9S.

"There," Devola suggested. She bobbed her flashlight over a clipboard lying on a metal table next to the bed. "Check those papers. Maybe they'll tell us."

9S followed her suggestion. He read the document aloud, deciphering the crude handwriting while reciting the ancient message.

"August 3rd, 2003. Our first experiment is complete. The Prince himself came by to watch. He wanted to know the differences between humans of this world as opposed to those of his own. He ordered us to remove different organs to see how long the average human could live without them. He had us pull out chunks until the subject, male, age 23, died. We removed the spleen, stomach, and about a foot of small intestinal tract. Normally, you're supposed to run multiple trials to gauge variables and whatnot, but the Prince is not too interested in all that. I don't think our fearless leader understands the scientific method very well. Maybe he just doesn't care."

9S flipped the page and cleared his throat. "Personally, I think the blood loss killed him. He was still struggling when we finished ripping open his ribcage, but not by a lot. I was surprised he lived through all that. Whatever the case, I took the liberty to staple all of the relevant notes together in this packet. You're welcome. ~Isaiah."

He placed the papers back where he found them.

"What's the point of all this," inquired the scanner.

Devola huffed. She turned her back to the operating table. "What difference does it make now? Let's just find that cadaver and get outta here!"

Every creak. Every fleeting bump caused Devola to jump. The presence of 9S offered surprisingly little comfort. With her flashlight in one hand, she moved closely alongside 9S, eying every shadow with intense paranoia.

As they progressed through the facility, 9S suddenly took off with his sights set on an open doorway on the right. He poked his head inside.

"What is it now," growled Devola.

Rather than wait for an answer, she leaned past him to see for herself. Piles of metal crates were stacked on the far end of the room. Each one had a panel to access the interior, all of which were sealed by rusty padlocks.

"This is creepy," Devola murmured.

The ever-quizzical scanner took the first to step inside. While he roamed about in search of this elusive key, Devola approached the iron boxes. She neared a lone crate lying on the floor in front of the pile.

Near the top of the box was a narrow vent lined with iron bars. The dim light rendered the naked eye unable to see what was inside. She aimed her flashlight through the small opening. The inner walls were charred and blackened as if exposed to a fire from within. There was a dark, circular object sitting inside. Silently, she attempted to discern what she was looking at.

"Ah-ha!"

Devola jumped and whipped around. She shot a threatening glare at 9S. The scanner stood near a desk on the opposite side of the room, waving around a clipboard containing a stack of yellow documents.

"Looky here."

"What is it?"

9S pointed at the clipboard. He cleared his throat and read the parchment aloud, allowing the documentation to speak for itself.

"Contrary to Jeremiah's bitching, this wasn't "just an excuse to set some orphans on fire." The point here was to learn a bit more about the white magic wielded by some of the grunts. I found a quirk. It burns like regular fire. Boils skin. Chars bones. All that fun stuff. The interesting part is that I ran some tests on the last few subjects while they were burning. Well, I ran one test. I stuck a thermometer inside the cage on a whim. Turns out, the white fire burns at room temperature. Every subsequent time I ran this experiment, the results were the same. I changed the thermometer several times but it didn't matter. Glean from this what you will. ~Amos"

Devola gritted her teeth in disgust. "That sick bastard! I was wondering how much involvement he had with this place."

"Maybe Amos was just…"

"He was locking people in cages and burning them alive!"

The scanner had no rebuttal. He flipped through the packet of pages, glimpsing over each blurb of text in hopes that he would find something that would prove his point. His salty friend was ruthless. He was under no illusions about this blatant fact, yet he found Amos' own dark writings to be difficult to believe.

Devola remained on the other side of the room, rolling her eyes. Her attention switched back to the cage. She saw movement inside. Something twitched.

She immediately drew her sword. With a single swipe of her blade, the padlock was sliced in half. It tumbled to the floor. With that obstacle dealt with, she kicked open the door. She then reached inside and pulled out the contents of the cage.

A small skeleton. The bones were black from being burnt and soaked in soot. Ash was left to stain and fester for thousands of years. It was an entire body. Feet, hands, skull and all. A frame that was probably half of 9S's height. Devola hovered her flashlight above the corpse. The light revealed the ashen remnants of a dress. Ribs poked out of the charred fabric.

"What are you doing," asked 9S.

"I thought… I thought I saw… Never mind. Just forget it."

Devola gave up trying to explain. She tightened her arms around the skeleton and then released it. The bones clattered against the floor, scattering across the room like shards of broken glass.

Their lonely trek through hallways went on and on. It was starting to irritate Devola. 9S walked alongside her without complaint, fingers still intertwined with hers. A gesture that would normally bring her much due comfort, yet this time, it served as an utter nuisance. 9S was constantly darting in and out of rooms. As a result, Devola was pulled and dragged every which way.

He paid no mind to the wretched atmosphere of this place. The haunted halls filled with empty air and ghostly moans did not deter him from quelling his boundless curiosity, fueled by seemingly limitless stores of energy.

As he jerked her to an open door on the left, Devola finally had enough. She stood firm and yanked him back to her side almost dragging him to the floor in the process. "Stop already! Let's just get back to Popola!"

"Ugh! Seriously, Dev? You don't find this place interesting in the slightest?"

"No. It's just depressing."

"But there's still so much history here."

Devola rolled her eyes. Her interests were simply not in line with his. She failed to fathom why he would care so much over a bunch of bones and the vague accounts of needlessly brutal experiments. It was all so hard to look at.

"Please. Let's just go."

9S found it difficult to argue with the pleading look in those aqua eyes of hers. He gave a relenting sigh. "Okay, you win."

They moved along. Devola took the lead for once, pulling 9S along with her lest they linger long enough for him to change his mind. They did not get very far before interruptions came their way.

It came from down a narrow hall veering to their left. On a path completely out of the way came the distinct sound of gurgling. The semblance of someone choking or struggling to breathe as their lungs filled with fluid.

"There it is again."

9S eyed her quizzically. "What? What is that?"

"That garglin'. Ya hear it too right?"

"I do."

"I heard it in the lobby before ya showed up and scared the daylights outta me. And I swear I heard once before that."

"Wanna check it out?"

Devola narrowed her eyes at him. "No!"

He smirked at her, having already forgotten the admittedly suspicious sound heard mere microseconds ago. "You know what your problem is?"

"Problem!?"

9S nodded. "Yeah. You're boring."

The gynoid gritted her teeth. Her brows sharpened furiously. "Boring!? Did you just call me boring!? Ya didn't seem too bored when we were in bed! Moanin' and groanin' like a damn…"

9S interjected long before she could finish her thought. "Okay! That's not at all what I meant!"

The sound of low gargling echoed once more from down that same hallway. By that point, the duo was far too involved in their quarrel to notice or care.

"I just mean you lack the adventuring spirit!"

All the while, he grinned at her coyly as though this was all just a rouse to get a rise out of her. Devola overlooked the obvious.

"It's not adventuring I mind! It's ghost hunting! But if you're so damn curious what's down there then let's go check it out!"

She whipped around, full ready to prove a point. She yanked him forward without giving him time to process her spiteful change of heart. Devola then came to a dead stop. 9S nearly ran into her. Something ahead caught her eye. For whatever reason, she refused to shed light on it.

"Something wrong?"

Devola's hand trembled in his own. She took a step back, closer to him. While she always seemed slightly more prone to fear than Popola, this behavior struck 9S as a bit unusual. Far too out of the blue. Morbidly curious, 9S cocked his head, peeping past her shoulders to see what struck such fear into her.

Just barely within view stood a girl, almost of his height, dressed in a white gown. Small, sky-blue bows were tied to her shoulders. Her limbs were oddly contorted. She stood upright, yet her arms dangled unnaturally at her sides while her legs were bent at peculiar angles. The simple acting standing was an obvious struggle for her.

There she stood, swaying back and forth. Her back was turned to the androids. The gurgling blatantly came from her direction. 9S felt his stomach turn. He reached for Skald's Song while thinking over his next move.

"H-Hey," he called out. "Who are you? A-A-Are you hurt?"

In hindsight, he considered it a silly question. There was blood all over her body. Glistening red droplets fell from the edges of her fabric and splashed onto the tiles beneath her feet.

The girl did not answer. Her figure rustled. She started to move. 9S pulled Devola closer, partially for his own comfort. He summoned his sword. Its jewel always shining in the dreary dark.

She took the first step accompanied by the sound of disjointed bones being forced to move. Her walk was a product of severe discomfort. Her steps were awkward and staggered like those of a reanimated corpse. She disappeared from the throw of Devola's light and behind a wall of darkness. She aimed it forward to get a better view but the girl was already long gone. The gargling faded.

Devola started whispering the instant she left their sight. "Don't tell me you're gonna go after her."

"No," 9S informed. "I'd rather not."

Even he was not that curious.

By the time 9S returned to Popola with her sibling in tow, the two of them were as pale as ghosts. Wide eyes stared back at her. Eyes that had seen far too much during what should have been a brisk stroll through haunted ruins.

"You guys okay," asked Emil.

"We're not alone," Devola darkly murmured.

"I heard that same gargling while you were away," said Popola. "I wished to investigate but we only had one light source, and Emil was not too keen on being left alone."

Emil's spherical head lowered shamefully. "Sorry. I was never the bravest of my old group of friends either. Times like this make me wish Weiss was here. He used to hate these dark places. He was deathly afraid of ghosts."

Devola shrugged off his recollections. "Sounds like he wouldn't fare too well in this city."

"Ha! Probably not. Anyway, did you find the key?"

9S took out the freshly obtained cluster of keys. He bobbed his hand, causing them to jingle. "Think so. Move aside and we'll find out."

The group complied. 153 offered her light while 9S stepped up to try the lock. After cycling through four of the keys, he heard a click. The padlock promptly came loose.

He tossed it to the floor and pushed the doors open, revealing a spiraling staircase that led straight down.

Toward the end of a narrow corridor was a set of steel doors. A label on the wall marked the chamber they were about to enter.

Upon seeing the bold words inscribed upon an ancient sign, the group let out a collective sigh. Their journey was coming to an end. Devola, in particular, was more than ready to make this their last stop.

"Finally," she exclaimed. "The morgue! Let's get in so we can get out."

Emil too shared her sentiment. He nodded and stepped forth. Being the sole reason for this excursion, he took it upon himself to be the first one to enter. He pushed the unlocked doors open and hopped inside.

"This is spooky."

"It's a morgue," 9S reminded. "What did you expect?"

Iron walls flanked them on either side. Each barrier was covered in small, metallic cabinets. Most of which were sealed shut. A few of those doors were left slightly agape, revealing a long, rectangular chamber inside. A locker was suspiciously large enough to contain a full-grown human inside.

"So, where are all the bodies," asked Devola.

"I believe they are stored in those lockers," her sister informed, pointing to the various latched cabinets. "Try not to disturb the dead, dear sister."

An idea struck Emil. "Maybe that's where we should start our search! We are looking for a corpse, after all."

Popola immediately shook her head. "Let's see if we cannot find a lead first before we go needlessly disturbing the slumbering dead. If what I've seen from his hideout is any indication, Amos and his cronies had a habit of leaving paper trails. Spread out and check any documents you see. They might hold a clue."

The morgue went on for quite a way. It was a surprisingly expansive chamber. In the immediate area, Devola set her sights on a metal table covered in odd tools, jarred chemicals, and stacks of paper.

Having heard Popola's plan, Devola's first impulse was to investigate them. She approached the table with extreme caution. She eyed the surrounding cabinets with suspicion. The mental image of one of the bodies coming to life and crawling out left her on edge.

Among the papers, she saw a file that captured her attention. A bright green folder concealing a modest stack of documents. The file had a label on it. She read it aloud.

"The Legend of Franken-Nier."

"That's my friend's name," cried Emil.

Devola glinted over her shoulder. "Your friend's name is Franken-Nier?"

"No, not the Franken part. I have no idea what that's referring to."

Emil glanced to his metallic feet. He waited, anticipating Devola to start reading the documents aloud. However, all she did was silently flip through the pages, half-heartedly scanning the text.

He gulped before daring to make a request. "Say, Miss Devola?"

"…Miss!?"

He made an effort to be as polite as inhumanly possible, lest she cast him into a vortex of pain that consumes even light itself.

"Could you… Uh…"

"What? Read it to you!?"

"Yes, I…"

"The hell do I look like to you!? A personal assistant!? Read it your own damn self!"

Devola threw the file at him and stormed off. Emil struggled to keep the documents from spilling out of his clumsy mechanical arms. He managed to keep the packet collected.

The hotheaded android moved to 9S's side. The scanner was completely unconcerned with how she treated others. Popola was the only one to notice Emil's look of dejection. The only one to express the slightest of sympathies. She forced an awkward smile.

"Please don't take her attitude to heart. She's like that to everyone."

"It's okay. I understand. This file is structured differently, it seems. It looks like Amos wrote all of this as one account after the fact."

"Read it if you wish," said Popola. "We're listening."

Emil faced the group. He inhaled sharply.

Seeing his buildup, 9S anticipated a lengthy story on the horizon. He found a table and claimed it as a chair. Devola followed his example and sat next to him.

"As I recount this failure of my own doing, I find myself thinking back to brighter days. A time when you were still with me…"

~O~

A lone soul stood perched atop a roof overlooking the abandoned hospital. His decaying flesh was held together by nothing more than leather straps and crude stitching. Dead eyes observed the quiet ruin. Glassy and motionless.

In one hand, he carried a white book carved in the likeness of a human face. In the other, a led pipe coated in a layer of rust and blood.

All was still outside the abandoned facility. He turned around to face the city. Explosions erupted in the distance. Buildings collapsed and gargantuan bolts of white light rained from the skies. Tornadoes raged through the streets, ripping up what little infrastructure remained. He then looked down at the mutilated book. Blood oozed from between the closed pages.

Even a mindless zombie could see the end of the world as it unfolded.

There was not much time left.