Oliver Prom awoke to a deep rumbling that shook him to the core. His eyes flew open, but they only took in darkness. He blinked, disoriented, and the booming tremors that reached his ears made him flinch. They sounded distant, but near at the same time, like the only thing separating him from them was a few dozen feet of dirt or insulation. It was so disorienting, he couldn't tell his head from feet. Something much closer to him clattered to the ground with a metallic sound.

The harsh noise had him scampering up and out of his seat. He only realized he'd been sitting down when it was too late, and his hip bumped against a hard surface that had him reeling. Pain flared in his side, and he clutched it as he stumbled away from the object that assaulted him.

"Fuck," he grimaced. He rubbed the spot quickly, glaring into the darkness. The only response he got was another tremor, another rumbling that made the ceiling of the room he was in crumble. "The hell…?"

Were those explosions? Oliver's instincts told him to worry, but his head throbbed.

'Ugh. Where am I?' The air was dry, and smelled thickly of dust. Oliver wrinkled his nose, staving of a sneeze. The last thing he remembered was working his shift at NexusTech, a government-contracted research facility. He'd been developing an app for a purpose that currently eluded him, when suddenly, the facility's alarms had gone off. Then, nothing… 'Damn. Did I black out? Can't remember a thing. What happened?'

Another tremor, and the clunking of nearby objects gave him some context. He grunted in distress at the quaking, reached into his pocket, and thankfully, grasped a familiar cell phone. A click on the lock button had the screen blasting his face with light, making him squint in discomfort.

The display presented to him in big, bold characters, May 27th, 6:47 AM. 'That can't be right…'

Last he checked, the date was May 26th, and his shifts were nine-to-five on the dot. He wouldn't have fallen asleep at work. A chilling thought occurred to him. 'Did I get kidnapped?' He quickly purged the idea. 'No. What kind of kidnapper would let their victim walk around freely and keep a cell phone? I need to see…'

With a gentle tap, Oliver switched his cell phone's built-in flashlight on, and the room was awash with dim light, sufficient enough to see the dust in the air and nearby objects but not much else. Still, it was enough for him to see that he was standing at an old, dusty desk in the corner of some room. He looked down at himself, noting that he was wearing a pair of brownish-green cargo pants, a navy blue t-shirt, and a thin black jacket with pockets. He could feel his keys and wallet stuffed into one of his left pockets.

'Good to see nobody's stripped me, I guess.'

Oliver focused on the more important parts of the room. His eyes widened a little when his flashlight ran over the rows and rows of racks full of servers, switches, and various other network devices that sat silent in the darkness, their LEDs broken or offline. They were all rusted over, even the metal racks themselves, some on the brink of falling apart and turning to dust right there.

"What the fuck…" He was in the data center at NexusTech! But…everything was in disrepair. Not just the servers, but the walls, floors, and ceiling were cracked too. 'That's impossible. I was here yesterday! There's no way anything can be in this condition. Wait, why am I here in the first place? Why didn't I go home yesterday…?'

He could tell that he wasn't dreaming. Everything was just too real to his senses for that. An unsettling feeling pooled in his gut. Something was going on…

Oliver reacted when the ground trembled again, the undoubtable explosions outside getting louder in his ears. 'There's that too. Is that why everything is damaged? That can't be it. This room is two floors beneath the ground.'

A picture painted itself in his head, and not a good one. The facility alarms had gone off the day before, he'd blacked out, and now there were explosions going off above ground. Right, and he was underground, two floors beneath the main floor of the facility in fact.

'Oh, this is definitely no bueno.' Oliver thought, his head swiveling left and right as he took in the sight of the dilapidated data center. Did something go wrong? Was there a terrorist attack going on!? Unlikely, but what else could be causing those explosions above ground? It's not like the facility had a fuel depot or anything to make explosions repeatedly like that. Not that he knew of, anyway.

"Explosions are still explosions. Gotta move."

He made to leave the room, but stopped short of leaving the desk. 'Wait, we keep flashlights in that cabinet on the wall right?'

He turned to one wall and identified the only cabinet in the room. It was made of plastic and looked old and dinged up, but the flashlights, he realized as he grasped the handle, were not. He sputtered and stepped back as a small cloud of rust invited itself into the air. 'Fuck. Seriously, what is this!?'

When he recovered and peered inside, he was both surprised and relieved to see that one flashlight had been left untouched by whatever phenomenon was affecting every other metal thing in the facility. He took it and switched it on, nearly blinded by the beam of light that shot from it. It was bright enough to illuminate a whole aisle of dead servers.

'Phew. Lucky me.'

Another explosion encouraged him to quit dallying around, and he stuffed his phone in his pocket. Hurrying to leave the room, Oliver pushed the door open.

'Uh…'

The corridor he pushed into was just as dark as the data center, and none of the auxiliary lights were on, which meant that none of the back-up generators had been activated. The walls were also cracked and damaged way more than they could ever be under the company's watch, and there were chunks of concrete rubble littering the corridor. Oliver looked up, and he could see that pieces of the ceiling had crumbled and fallen apart, large cracks running along it in some places. It looked like it could cave in at any moment.

Explosions from above ground wouldn't do that kind of damage to something so far underground, right?

It was also silent. Impossibly silent aside from the occasional rumbles. Where was everybody else? The hundreds of other people that worked there? The twenty other employees he knew worked on this subfloor? Where were the sounds of people calling for help? Did they evacuate and leave him behind? The unsettling feeling in his gut turned to spiteful anger for a moment.

He knew he was new to the company—a real greenhorn freshly graduated with his degree, but come on!

'Oh, those motherfuc—'

Oliver seized up mid-step into the corridor, his thoughts coming to a grinding halt as his eyes were drawn to the floor. He stared at the spot in shock for a second, but his eyes did not deceive him.

It was a hand. A human hand torn at the wrist, curled up on the floor in a pool of dark red. The fingers were loosely curled around a pistol. There were two spent casings only a couple centimeters away.

For a few moments, Oliver's head was empty, like he simply couldn't comprehend what he was seeing when he could. His body didn't know what to do without any commands from the brain, so he stood there, staring at the grim exhibit like it offended him. When his mind finally started working again, his eyes swept the corridor in both directions, and suddenly the darkness was no longer just an absence of light. Now it was sinister.

'Holy fuck.'

Against every fiber of his being, he crept over to the hand, if only because he knew it wouldn't start moving. He cursed his brain for coming up with such horrifying imagery nonetheless.

His face scrunched up in disgust and horror when he got a closer look at it. It was unnaturally pale, but that could just be attributed to blood loss. What was more concerning was the way it was severed—like it'd been torn off and not cut off.

He forced himself to quickly wrench the pistol from it, cringing at the cold, leathery feeling of the skin. He grimaced when the appendage flopped to the ground, now face-up and open.

He decided to focus on the gun. It was a Glock 22, he figured quickly. A standard firearm for most police and security officers. It must've belonged to one of NexusTech's security officers then.

He pressed the mag release, counting the rounds, then pulled the slide half-way, finding one in the chamber. He'd gone shooting with his grandfather many times in the past, so he knew his way around all sorts of guns. It's one of the perks of being a Texan. Question was, why would he need one right now?

Oliver counted thirteen rounds, which meant that the gun was likely fired only twice, at most three times since the last reload if the user liked to keep one in the chamber between magazines. He wasn't sure what unnerved him more: the fact that the weapon had been attached to a severed hand, or the fact that it had been fired more than once…

'Oh God why? What's with this situation?' Oliver moaned in his head at the implications. 'Who did you belong to? Who were you shooting? How did they cut your hand off!? Fuck.'

He had to get out of here. If it wasn't clear before, it definitely was now. At least he knew where he needed to go to get out of this place. NexusTech had several exits on the main floor. If he could just get up there, he'd be home free.

The young programmer made a mental map in his head, noting that the elevators were probably dead. With a gun in hand and a flashlight in the other, he moved towards the nearest stairwell access as quickly and quietly as he could. He stopped when he realized that he was starting to panic.

'What am I doing? Basics Ollie!' He berated himself, suppressing the urge to smack himself upside the head. He was no expert, but his grandfather taught him well. He took up the Harries Technique: in his left hand, he held the flashlight in an icepick grip with his thumb on the tailcap. In his right hand, he held the pistol, setting his wrist over the left one.

If there were…unfavorable people lurking around and chopping people's hands off, he had to be prepared to shoot first. There was no way around that, he told himself. He renewed his quick march into the darkness.

The flashlight illuminated objects in the darkness, their shadows stretching into phantoms that tried to trick him, but he wasn't fooled. Perhaps the gun in his hand gave him a false sense of security and he was deluding himself about his abilities, but he found himself vigilant, listening for voices or footsteps. Still, it wasn't pleasant, and he internalized his thoughts with mental shouts.

'Damn it. Whatever the hell this is, fuck it! I shouldn't have to be dealing with it! Barely two weeks after graduation and this is what I get?' He despaired.

Oliver spotted the stairwell access door just past the one and only elevator on one side of the subfloor. He was lucky: the data center was on subfloor two, which was the lowest floor accessible by stairwell. Anything below that, and he would have been toast, considering lower subfloors are accessed by secure key-card-only elevators, something that he didn't have clearance for. Why would a research facility need subfloors that low? Who knows!? He wasn't paid enough to know, that was for sure.

He just considered himself lucky that he made the journey to the stairwell without incident, considering the severed human hand he'd found. Was he being paranoid? No, it wasn't paranoia if the threat was real, right?

The tapping of footsteps echoed as he ascended the cracked concrete stairs, his hand sliding up the handrail as he went. He continued past the subfloor-one entrance, only to stop when he found his path blocked by a large wall of rubble that filled the staircase the rest of the way up.

"Shit…" He muttered to himself. What now? He frowned. "No, there's still the parking garage."

Subfloor-one had a subterranean parking garage that had a ramp going to and from the world above ground. He could escape through that, and hopefully avoid whatever the hell was going on up there. He paused.

'Huh. The explosions stopped?' Was the situation being resolved? He could only hope, but that was under the assumption that this was a terrorist attack. That might not even be the case. 'Only one way to find out.'

Pushing into the basement level, Oliver raised his gun, only to freeze in place.

His mouth fell open with a sharp gasp. He resisted the urge to turn and immediately close the door as he took in the large, half-dry pools of blood that were splotched across the floor. There were trails of red trailing from the pools and off into the darkness, far beyond the scope of his flashlight. There was no body on the ground, but there were the tattered remains of a blue garment soaking in the blood. There was also a flashlight on the ground, beaming towards a wall. A security guard's uniform.

His teeth ground together. 'What the fuck, man? These are like jumpscares. What am I gonna find this time, a leg? Fuck!'

He opened the door completely and did a quick sweep of the area. The door opened into an intersection. To the left was a corridor lined with darkened windows and translucent glass doors. To the right were restrooms and a couple of vending machines. Straight ahead, the corridor was much wider, but the blood trail was in that direction…the direction he needed to go.

'Of course the ominous blood trail goes towards my objective.' Oliver lamented.

He looked back down at the shredded garment and flashlight. The questions that his thoughts produced had disturbing implications, so he didn't let them bog him down. After a moment of consideration, he picked up the flashlight from the ground and stuffed it in one of his extra leg-pockets. What if the parking garage was also sealed off and he was stuck down here for a while? One could never be too prepared. With that in mind, he dragged the shredded garment from the blood puddle and begrudgingly sifted through it. He was a little surprised to find a hip pouch and a holster attached to a polyester belt with two magazines inside, both fitting the Glock 22. Definitely a security guard, then. Without a second thought, he took the belt and fastened it on, ignoring how wet it was.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use those extra mags. Or use the Glock at all for that matter. If he wasn't sure something strange was going on before, he was definitely sure of it now. And not in the terrorist-y way. This was the more…sadistic, body-mutilation murder brand of strange. If Oliver saw a man in a mask, there would be violence.

'Time to go.' After one last onceover of his belongings, he assumed the Harries Technique and hurried into the darkness.

A minute passed and nothing happened, but the blood trail tapered off. Oliver was growing paranoid. The explosions had stopped a while ago, and the corridor's silence was deafening to him. 'When I get out of here, I'm going home, texting my mom, having a cup of ramen, and playing Crusaders VR for the rest of the day. Fuck this!'

And damned this silence! Was it really, actually silent? Or was his brain tricking him in his paranoia? Were his footsteps really his own? Or was he making up bogeymen? Was that soft clicking sound in his imagination, or—no, wait, what is that?

He stopped, holding his breath, straining like he'd never done before to listen. His eyes slowly grew wider as he heard it. The smallest sound in the distance. A soft click-click-clicking, almost like teeth biting down slowly. Repeatedly.

The mind is capable of coming up with the most terrifying things when it's afraid, but in this case, the only thing on Oliver's was, 'What the FUCK IS THAT!?'

His fingers went rigid as he pointed threateningly into the darkness, but slowly, he continued to inch forward. With every step, the clicking became more and more defined, until Oliver could hear more, and soon he wished he hadn't. It was the sound of labored, wheezing breaths, like someone struggling to breath, but doing so very slowly.

'...That's not a person.' The realization came with the heart-stopping non-sound of sudden, complete silence. Oliver was rooted to the spot, squeezing the Glock like it was a stressball and frantically scanning left and right with the flashlight, finding only tiled flooring and cracked walls. There was a moment where there was nothing but that Godforsaken silence again.

He waited. Waited for something, anything.

A series of sudden, heavy thumps was the only warning he got.

Long, gangly arms appeared in the light, longer than he was tall and reaching out for him with fingers long, thin, and writhing like worms. A blur of limbs appear, legs bent at unnatural angles and moving erratically. The body above them was horrifically disproportionate, way longer than any human torso could be, pale and grotesque, ribs breaching the skin, and the face was—

There was no face.

Oliver screamed. The thing that dashed for him somehow screamed back. And oh God the sound it made. The screech was inhumanly distorted, like a scream of agony muffled and choked by thick layers of cotton, pitch-shifted down several octaves.

Shock and fear almost cost Oliver his life, but at the last moment, as it reached out for him, he took a step back, and the Glock popped in his hand, kicking harshly. The thing didn't even notice.

Oliver tried to yank away from its grip when its grotesque fingers curled around his arms. Then it gripped. He lurched, his eyes flashing white with pain when he felt his arms being crushed, his bones creaking under pressure. He shouted in terror, agony filling his limbs, and horror gripped his soul when he felt the thing start to pull in opposite directions. The pressure on his muscle and bones was agonizing, and it prevented him from even squeezing his fingers. Even so, he tried desperately, with all of his willpower. His life depended on it.

The Glock popped twice in quick succession, and by some stroke of sheer, dumb luck, the recoil of the first shot brought the muzzle high enough to aim at the monster's head. When the crushing grip on his arms relaxed, he desperately staggered away from the monster. He was sure he pulled some muscle in his arms just flexing his finger to fire those shots, but adrenaline made sure he felt none of it.

He shined his light on the monster, his arms shaking like loose leaves. It was already recovering from what would have been a fatal shot for a human. What the hell was this thing!? It groaned at him, its voice low and guttural. It started to reach out towards him again. Fear gripped Oliver's heart, giving him two options: fight, or run. Whether it was a subconscious decision or not, his hand chose the gun. With a yelp, he fumbled to aim over his flashlight and fired.

The weapon popped once, twice, three times, each shot hitting their currently immobile target on the mark. With every round, the monster's head snapped back further and further. It fell to a knee, one of its nightmarish hands clawing at the air between it and Oliver, the other trying to cover its face.

In a moment of clarity, Oliver realized what it was doing. Four shots to the head and it was still functioning. What the hell was this thing!? He searched for a weakness. He found it.

Two bullets to the knee that supported its weight ensured that it tumbled over with a screech.

Perhaps a normal person, seeing the chance, would have run. Maybe it made Oliver a fool that he didn't. Maybe it was a waste of ammunition that could very well save his life later. But there was no way in hell he would give this thing the chance to stand back up ever again if he could.

Oliver snarled. Along with the fear, anger surged, fueled by the pain in his arms and what the thing had done to him. The gun popped again, and the creature groaned, but still flailed about, albeit weakly.

"Why are you not DEAD!?" Oliver growled. It was with one more shot that the creature's head was effectively turned to chunks.

And as the monster went still, Oliver stared at it, breathing like he'd just run a marathon. His heart hammered in his chest, the irrationality that came with fear and anger mixing together, and he glared at the dead thing. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, a mix of pain and emotion. "Fucking…shit…"

His heart skipped a beat when the thing whimpered. No, that wasn't it. Two or three or four or more inhumanly low whimpers echoed in the distance. Oliver wanted to whimper himself. He turned and ran, even before the inhuman symphony grew and grew.

"Oh shit! Shit! SHIT!" He all but bolted down the corridor, caution thrown to the wind. The sounds of screaming followed him, but he didn't turn around, lest he slow down and let them catch up.

The flashlight illuminated the corridor up and down with the pump of his arms, giving him brief but vital flashes of information on where he was. He didn't know how long it took, but by the time he found the sliding doors to the garage, the monsters were close. Adrenaline fueled his aching muscles as he pulled at the doors, inching one open just enough for him to fit through. He dared to look back. The first thing appeared from around the corner, moving too fast to stop itself. It slammed head first into a wall, rolled back to its feet, and reached out to him with its horrifically long arms, its fingers twitching like ten independent snakes.

Oliver panicked, forcing his body through the small opening he'd made and stepping into the parking garage. His eyes and flashlight scanned the space, but his heart dropped when he recognized the same phenomenon he saw in the data center down below. The garage was full of cars, but each and every single one was broken down, rusted beyond use, their tires flat and old paint chipping off in flakes.

He didn't even have time to curse, the sound of something crashing into the doors behind him making him jump. He ran, ran with all the power his legs could give, dodging between old cars and sprinting for the garage exit. The pain in his arms flared, the phantom feeling of long, rope-like fingers gripping them, threatening to tear him half.

His feet slammed on the ground, pushing so hard they hurt his heels, pressure building on his calves. Something would tear if he kept running like he was, but he couldn't stop. If he turned around, he would slow down, and those monsters would get closer, and they wouldn't hesitate to mutilate him, he knew. He could hear the glass cracking, the metallic clunking of the sliding doors bursting from their hinges, and the thumps of numerous bodies piling atop one another, like they'd all tripped over one another.

Oliver's heart thrummed like a drum. He prayed to whatever god was out there that he would make it. His hopes grew when his eyes found the exit! He could see it! Daylight! Beautiful, beautiful sunlight bouncing off the walls in the distance! The smell of smoke and burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils, and he almost faltered. What was—? No! Just keep running. Just a bit further and—

There was a screech. And it was close. Far too close for him to ignore. He turned around. It was all he could do but watch as a faceless entity bore down on him, barely visible in the dim sunlight, its fingers lengthening to reach him. He fell to the ground in terror.

"AHH—!"

Something streaked by his head, a line of blue light. His eyes followed it. He stared uncomprehendingly. The creature that bore down on him fell backwards, twitching erratically on the ground. Oliver realized it was probably because of the long, ethereal rod of blue light that pierced its head end-to-end. The monster twitched, then exploded.

Usually, when something explodes, there's a lot of smoke, fire, and a shockwave that follows. Instead, Oliver gaped as a wave of luminescent whites and blues washed outwards like water, freezing everything it touched solid, including the ground, the ceiling, and even parts of a few cars. The wave stopped just at his feet, three of those monsters stood frozen solid in ice several inches thick—the ones that had been closest to catching up with him. Still, more came. A whole group of them rushed from the darkness and into the dim sunlight that poured in, smashing through their frozen brethren without care.

Oliver winced at the very distinctive crack of a gun. The sound repeated several times in quick succession, every shot making heads split open or explode, making the monsters collapse or tumble to the ground. Some, despite losing their heads, got right back up and trudged along at a slower pace. Those ones were struck by orange-colored rods that burst into flames, turning them to cinders. By the time Oliver got back up to his feet, the garage had gone silent. He stared around at glowing piles of anthropomorphic cinders, and the headless and frozen corpses strewn about. He counted ten total.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and he whipped around, flashlight raised but with no light emitting from it. Did it break when he fell? Shit! He let it clatter to the ground uselessly.

Despite everything, or rather because of everything that happened, not least of all the two near-death experiences he just had, he was feeling rattled. Rattled, confused, and afraid. The sunlight coming in from the entrance silhouetted two approaching figures.

Oliver shivered, breathing heavily, afraid of what he might see.

"We'd appreciate it if ya didn't point that thing at our faces, y'know."

The very-much masculine human voice was surprising to him. Tension he didn't even know he'd been feeling drained from his body. It was only then did he realize that he was aiming the Glock at them, finger dangerously close to the trigger. He almost didn't lower it. He almost let the very-much still-present adrenaline dictate his actions. Shakily, he lowered the weapon, still gasping for breath, his heart beating in his ears. He closed his eyes.

'Calm. Calm down. They just saved your life and killed those things.'

When he was calm enough to take slow, measured breaths, his eyes reopened. The figures stepped in close. "Thank God. Sorry. I'm sorry. I should have called out. I was just..."

He trailed off when he saw them. One was a man, the one who spoke. He was somewhat tall, maybe a few inches taller than him, dressed in a defining thick leather duster, along with the boots and gloves to match. What struck Oliver was the the smooth, featureless white mask that hid his expression, along with the lever-action rifle in his grasp. Oliver could barely see a pistol of some kind strapped to his thigh, as well as the wider barrel of shotgun poking over his shoulder. He looked like some stereotype that eluded Oliver. Very much western though. And probably very dangerous.

Oliver's gaze warily drifted to the other person, and he stopped. It was a woman about his height. She filled out an honest-to-god Japanese Miko outfit that was cut short at the knees, revealing white thigh-high leggings. That wasn't what stopped Oliver. What stopped him were the six fluffy snow-white fox tails that rose up from behind her, along with the black, fox-like ears on her dark-haired head. She held a bow in hand, but no arrows.

Oliver's brain stopped working for a moment as he took in the biological impossibility. "..."

His mouth opened and closed but made no noise, probably because he was stunned and exhausted at the same time. Whoever these two were, they definitely weren't law enforcement. His earlier theory that there was a terrorist attack occurring threatened to rise up when he saw the masks they wore, but they seemed relaxed enough and weren't telling him to get on his knees, so he dismissed the thought.

They stopped only a few paces away from him, but their focus wasn't on him. They looked around the garage in a weird way, like they'd never set foot in one before. He wished he could see their faces to get a better idea of what they were thinking.

"Wow…" the woman spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft, but filled with wonder. She had an accent he couldn't quite place. Japanese? It was barely noticeable, though. "What is this place? Have we…struck gold, possibly?"

"These ain't like any cars I've ever seen, that's for sure." The man drawled in a southern accent, Oliver recognized. The man hummed, his masked head on a swivel. "I do indeed think we might've found somethin' interesting this time, Waka."

'They even sound like they have no idea what to make of this place. This isn't right. Who are they...? WHAT are they?' He eyed their weapons warily. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to walk past them, get out, and forget about everything for a few hours, but they saved his life. And they also seemed unsurprised by the monsters that chased him.

Questions made manifest in his head. He couldn't help himself. "Hey, uh…I'm sorry, but…who the hell are you people?" he asked between breaths. He gestured to the bodies strewn about with an agonized look. "And what the fuck was that?"

The two both turned and looked at him like they forgot he was there. The masked man tilted his head slightly, and Oliver couldn't tell if it was because he was confused or was looking down on him. "Ah, damn, sorry 'bout that," he made a sound of realization. "You can call me Colt. An' this here is Tsune. We're…adventurers. Dungeon hunters. And you? Mind sharin' with us who our resident rescuee is?"

Oliver inwardly frowned. Adventurers? Dungeon hunters? The fuck? And didn't this guy call the girl 'Waka' just a second ago? Maybe he was mishearing things. He was feeling delirious. "It's…Oliver…"

Only a minute ago, he'd been prepared to ask if they knew what happened to NexusTech, and whether they were the police or the government or some other law-enforcing body, but now, he didn't think they'd have any idea what he was talking about.

Something was wrong. Definitely, definitely wrong. He chose not to ask about the woman's—Tsune's? Tsune's non-human features.

"Oliver, huh?" Colt drawled in that accent of his. "An' what were ya doin' prancing around in these necro-infested ruins by yourself?"

More new terms. Necro-infested. And, "Ruins?"

The man stared at him, and Oliver could imagine him making a sarcastic face. "What did ya think it was when you wandered in here? A soul fire shrine?"

Tsune made a strange sound, placing one hand where her mouth would be. She was giggling, Oliver realized. The smirking design on her mask was fittingly mocking.

Oliver wasn't sure what to say. The things this guy was saying were so…strange. Outlandish, even. The word 'Ruins', at least in the man's context, seemed to imply that the building was old, abandoned, and decrepit, a place to be searched to uncover mysteries and for the thrill of exploration.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Oliver's stomach as everything was catching up to him. He couldn't think right now. His arms were starting to hurt now that the adrenaline was leaving. They hurt a lot. What did that thing do to him? He grimaced.

"I…can I leave? I just…want to go home."

Colt made a sound of consideration, his mask tilting from side-to-side. "Okay, tell ya what. If ya tell us what you know about this place—what it has an' all—you can wait outside while we do business. We've already dealt with the necros out there."

That term again, necros. Is that what these things were? Oliver closed his eyes and regarded Colt's question. He just wanted to get out of this nightmare building, and the exit was so damned close!

"There's…a lot of…severs down there, but they're all rusted over. Falling apart. They're pretty much useless. Aside from that? A lot of loose paper. I didn't look at any of it though. Is that enough?"

Colt gave his partner a sideways look. "Tsune?"

Tsune was staring at Oliver hard, he realized suddenly. "...It's the truth."

Colt looked back at him. "Good man." He could almost hear the grin in the man's voice. "You just hang tight outside. We'll be with ya in a bit. C'mon, Tsune. Let's see if we can't hit paydirt by the end of the day."

Oliver watched as the two walked past him, Tsune parting with a small wave and a swish of her tails—seeing them move was jarring. As the two ventured into the dark, Oliver saw Tsune hold out her hand, and he was astonished when motes of light swirled into a sphere of lantern-bright light in her hand. He was instantly reminded of the explosion of ice he bore witness to a couple of minutes ago.

"What the hell…" he muttered as his saviors disappeared into the building. 'Did she just read my mind? And that light shit was like magic…no fucking way!'

His eyes widened, and something clicked. He turned back to the garage exit—an exit ramp from which the dim light of the just-rising sun spilled into the garage. He hurried over to it, ran up the slope and stopped at the top. His legs suddenly felt like jelly as he took in the environment.

Instead of the bustling city he was familiar with, the buildings and skyscrapers, roads and highways on which cars sped, he found himself in dense, lush forest of unfamiliar trees. There were smoking craters and the broken, burned bodies of dozens of the necros from before everywhere. And to top it all off, a rope ladder dangled in the middle of a clearing, right next to a large anchor of some kind, both leading up, and up, and up. He looked up, and his eyes nearly fell out of his skull.

A large white airship hovered in the air, long and thin, but with large bulges on either side, each of which had windows and large rotors attached on top. The back of the fantastical vehicle split in two like a fork, each with fins and propellers spinning lazily on the back. There were windows all across its length, and in a couple of places, large barrels fit for firing artillery shells.

If there was one thing Oliver was good at, it was looking for context clues. And everything since he'd awakened up to this point had been a confusing mess of information. Until now, if what he was seeing was true.

At that moment, Oliver felt ill. The color drained from his face, and he made a strangled sound, his gaze falling to the floor.

Those people, Colt and Tsune, thought his workplace was a ruin to be plundered. A ruin filled with horrific monsters that they no-doubt dealt with on a daily basis because it was probably normal for them. A ruin that would be searched and looted like possibly thousands of others, because it was a normal thing.

Of course, Oliver should have known something wasn't quite normal when he saw the woman of unearthly beauty that also happened to be part fox—a fact that the man seemed to treat as normal, which implied that it most definitely was normal to him. He also should have known things weren't quite normal when he was being chased down by eldritch-looking horrors that would surely haunt his dreams from here on.

What made things so obvious now though, was the ball of light that the woman produced. At that point, the fact that his workplace was now in the ass-end of nowhere was supporting evidence, along with the large airship that hovered a distance away.

Supporting evidence that clued him into the truth. The truth that he was no longer on Earth.

The truth, that he'd possibly, probably, most definitely been fucking isekai'd.

"What the fuck…"

By the time Colt and Tsune were done searching for whatever they were looking for, Oliver sat at the top of the garage ramp, staring down at the ground. He tried not to show it, but inwardly, he was having a panic attack. He didn't understand, couldn't understand how this happened, much less why it happened to him. He needed a few hours to himself, to just sit down and think. What was he going to do? How was he going to fix this? How could he go back? He grasped for answers, but none came to him, and unanswered questions only led to more unanswered questions.

If he really did just get isekai'd (he cringed at the term), then why did the entire building get transported with him? Or rather, did he get transported with the building? If so, were there still people down there? Did he dare to find out? Did they do something to get the building transported!? Was there some experiment he didn't know about going on!? And why was most of the metal in the building rusted over, including the vehicles?

The thought of going back in to find out made him sick. He clutched his arms, which were still in terrible pain and had bruised over. The phantom feeling of those writhing tentacle fingers made him sweat.

Where did those monsters come from? Were they from this world? If this was really a different world, how did Colt and Tsune speak English? If it wasn't, why was Tsune part fox or whatever, and why did they own a mathematically impossible-to-fly airship?

He felt like throwing up just from the mental overload, but thankfully, Colt and Tsune appeared from the garage. He stood up a little too quickly, black spots dancing in his vision, but he ignored it.

"H-Hey," he greeted. It was all he could really muster, feeling so weak and helpless. "Get what you need?"

"We did," Colt nodded, sounding pleased. "Tsune an' I will be comin' back here later with different equipment, but for now, we're ready to go. Any trouble show up?"

"No." Oliver shook his head. He swallowed. "I know it's a lot to ask after you saved me earlier, but can you guys take me somewhere?"

"That depends. Where we talkin' exactly?"

Oliver dared to hope. "Dallas, Texas."

Colt stared at him, and Oliver's flimsy hope that he'd somehow got it all wrong shriveled up and died before Colt even replied.

"...Never heard of it. That a village near here?"

Oliver released a shaky breath. "Nevermind. Nearest settlement, then?"

Colt nodded slowly. "We can do that much. I got some questions I wanted to ask ya anyway. Now c'mon. I wanna get back here before afternoon."

Oliver nodded his assent. Tsune didn't say anything, but he felt that was likely because she had nothing to say. They all approached the dangling rope ladder, and a small breeze made it sway. Colt climbed it without trouble, then Tsune went next. Oliver followed last, and when he looked up, he saw a sight he was probably never meant to see.

'White lace? Jesus. Even out here in the wild like this?' Oliver looked away with the faintest heat in his cheeks. Tsune was…gifted. It helped distract him from his existential crisis, at least.

They reached a small catwalk at the top, and Colt pulled a large, metal door open and ushered them inside, picking up the ladder and the anchor via winch as he did. Oliver stepped past him and inside, looking around.

They were in a cargo hold of some kind. It was pretty big, maybe the size of three chinooks side-by-side. There was a large cargo bay ramp that was pulled up on one side, and a staircase leading up to a door that went deeper into the ship on the other. Windows lined the walls, and there were two metal doors on the same walls. The whole thing was impressive in terms of size. Oliver remembered how fantastical it looked on the outside. What the hell had he just gotten himself wrapped up in?

He turned and stopped when he saw Tsune reaching up to take her mask off, curiosity getting the better of him. When the mask came down, he concluded that she truly was a beauty. Her face was very soft-looking and innocent, and she was young. Her light brown eyes were mesmerizing, and he noticed that her pupils were vulpine. Her eyes darted to his.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, giving him a lazy stare.

"No…nothing." He shook his head, looking away as Colt entered the room, shutting and locking the metal door behind him. Oliver paused, looking back at Tsune. "Actually…do you have a bathroom?"

The refreshing feel of crisp, cool water on his face did well to soothe Oliver's nerves. He'd been right on the verge of a panic attack without knowing, and he might as well still be, if his still-beating heart had anything to say about it, at least. As droplets of water dribbled from his hair and ran down his face, the young man looked up into the mirror. He briefly looked over himself.

His skin, usually tan, was slightly paler than normal. His black hair was spiked, even more so now because of the water. His eyes, soulful and brown, were currently tired and fearful. He wasn't tall, only five-foot-six or seven—he couldn't really remember—but there was evidence of hard work in his lean physique and toned arms and legs. His fitness was probably the only reason he'd managed to escape.

He sighed and shook his head, letting his face fall back into the stream of water. He could feel the airship moving, the Albatross, it was called, and he let inertia drag him along.

How had things come to this? How had he gotten stuck in this impossible situation? He had just gotten started with his life, graduating from university with a degree in computer science and a minor in engineering only twelve days ago, and already working with a good company. Life was just starting to truly pan out for him.

He'd had plans, goals to achieve, a career to strive for and a life to live, but by the whims of the universe, it was as if all of that had been taken away in an instant. All of his work, everything he'd ever don, erased just like that. He couldn't understand it, couldn't really process it. There were too many things to think about: his family, his friends, his future—it was too much.

He found his foot bouncing rhythmically, a habit he'd picked up from his grandfather. His thoughts drifted to the old man. His face came to mind, the face of a man who had a dark history filled with wars and escaping communist regimes. The face of a man who, despite all of the trials and tribulations in life, would smile, and show up to Oliver's house riding a Harley Davidson with his wife.

He thought of his grandmother, the woman who often repeated herself all the time, but with a kind heart and everyone's best interests in mind. A woman would make sure you've eaten well when you visit, and pack your food to go when you leave. A woman who wouldn't let you go unless you gave her a hug first.

His thoughts drifted to his father and mother, one strong-willed and determined, the other compassionate and free-spirited. The folks who had him and his siblings, who nourished them and taught them as much as they could, pushed them to be better each and everyday, to find their roles in life. The folks who loved and provided for him unconditionally.

He thought of his siblings, the ones he often fought with, but bonded with through their differences rather than their blood. The friends that weren't his friends, but were closer. The ones that would be there if something went wrong.

Their faces all appeared in his mind. Would he ever see them again? Was all of that going to just be thrown away? All of their efforts towards him, all of his own efforts through life? And what about his friends? The ones he trusted implicitly with his life? A list of seven distinct names ran through his head.

He could feel his eyes watering a bit. His foot bounced faster. He pulled at his hair, letting out a quiet wheeze and ignoring the pain in his arms.

"Fuck…" The sound that came out was hoarser than he'd liked to admit. What the hell was he going to do? How was he going to survive in this…this nightmare? He had nothing here. Nobody to turn to, no identity, no money or means of income. If he didn't even have those, how could ever possibly consider finding a way back?

Never mind the fact that he was on another planet with new races and species. Never mind that there was indeed life out there, that the Fermi Paradox was no longer valid. He just wanted to go home.

Oliver didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he sighed deeply, stood, wiped the water and the tears from his face, slipped on his black jacket, then left the bathroom. 'Idiot. What are you doing wasting time? Don't lose hope or it's already over.'

He checked the time on his cell phone to distract himself. It read 9:34 AM. The battery was at eighty-nine percent, he noted. 'Still early morning, huh? I woke up at 6:47 I think, so I've only been in this world for about three hours. That'd make a whole hour for myself in the bathroom. Sheesh, get a grip, Olly.'

The door shut behind him as he stepped into a living room of sorts. The ship was wide enough to pace, which meant there was plenty of room for furniture. Windows lined the walls, thick enough to stop a bullet, and the room was furnished with some cozy furniture and a bookshelf, but not much else aside from the bright ceiling lights. The ceiling itself curved with the wall, giving the whole room a sleek but cozy feel. A pair of staircases on either side led up to what Oliver assumed was the walkable top deck, while at the edge of the room, preceded by a few short, terraced steps, was a wooden door with a glass window that led to steering and navigation.

He wondered, was this the standard? Or were Colt and Tsune well off? 'They gotta be loaded. What even are they, actually? They mentioned dungeon hunting or something.'

He considered wandering the ship to learn more, but he didn't think they'd appreciate an outsider snooping around what looked like their home. He dreaded going to ask them himself, because he knew they certainly had questions for him. What if they thought him suspicious enough to be thrown overboard since he didn't know anything? Tsune was kind enough to let him use the restroom, but that was only because he'd looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. Currently, they probably thought he was just an unfortunate idiot. He hoped to keep it that way, at least so he didn't arouse suspicion and could maybe even fish for information.

With a sigh, the young almost-graduate stumbled towards ship navigation, nursing his pained arms. His legs felt heavy, but he pressed on, ignoring the dread pooling in his stomach. In a morbid way, his new Glock, which had been stuffed into the holster that came with the polyester belt, was the only thing giving him any sort of calm.

When he approached the door, he peered through the window, prepared to face his rescuers. He felt his lower jaw detach from his skull as heat crept up his neck.

The innocent maiden-like Tsune was currently…not very innocent, and neither was Colt as stoic as he initially seemed. The two were pressed up against one another, Colt without his mask, revealing a surprisingly average face, sandy brown hair, and blue eyes. Their hands were glued to one another as they shared the rawest mouth-to-mouth session Oliver had ever seen. They were both standing, Tsune with one leg hiking up Colt's thigh, the man's hand going under, grabbing something Oliver couldn't see. Tsune moaned not quietly, her tails moving to massage at Colt's crotch, and Oliver choked.

Before he could tear his eyes away, he saw Tsune's fox-like ears flicker in his direction as she gave him an eye. She froze and the two stared at one another, causing Colt to also stop.

"What's wrong, Wa—" Oliver caught his eye also. Tsune's face turned a healthy shade of red, and she squirmed out of Colt's grip.

The man gave Oliver an irritated look, but only sighed as he pulled away from her. "Aight, come in then. Dammit…"

'Sorry dude.' Oliver mentally apologized as he pushed into the room. 'And it looked like things were just getting hot too… Man, that's the eleventh time I've cockblocked somebody.'

He looked around. The room was smaller than the living area. It featured a terminal with a chair in the middle of the room, where Colt and Tsune were standing. From the far side of the room to more than halfway across, the walls, floors, and ceiling were all made of glass, allowing a greater-than one-eighty degree view of the outside world, which was nothing but the forest below and the sky above. Early morning light filled the room with an orange glow.

Colt fell back into the pilot's seat, turning towards the front. He made a throwing motion with his hand, and to Oliver's surprise, a holographic projection of a top-down map of the ship's surroundings for a good few kilometers appeared on the terminal. He noticed that the hologram was being projected from some kind of crystal embedded in the terminal.

"So," Colt drawled. "Ya calmed down now?"

"As much as I can be," Oliver replied. He eyed the hologram but concealed his wonder. He wouldn't do well to look slack-jawed at something probably normal.

"Look here," Colt waved him over. Oliver stepped a little closer as Colt pointed to a spot on the map. "This is the closest settlement I can get ya to. Well, it's not really a settlement yet. Tsune an' I passed by this mornin'. It's a group of about a hundred people that recently settled down next to a lake an' a mountain. They haven't built much yet, but it's the closest there is, and Tsune an' I aren't keen on travelin' a few more hours to get to the next village. We're on a bit of a time constraint, y'know."

He was a problem, basically. It wasn't said, but it was implied, and Oliver knew, but didn't really care much. He was thankful they were even willing to take him this far in the first place.

"Sounds good to me," he replied lamely. He felt a stare boring into the side of his head, and he was a little put off to see that Tsune was staring at him intently. "What?"

"Nothing, just…nothing."

Oliver blinked and looked at Colt, who was looking at Tsune with a raised brow. "Anyway, we'll be there in just a bit. I hope you can work a field, 'cause I don't imagine they want freeloaders in such a new settlement. You'll make me an' her look bad for dumpin' you on them." He paused and looked Oliver up and down. "…What do you do anyway? I don't imagine you're an adventurer or dungeon hunter. Not with that peashooter ya got."

'Adventurers and dungeon hunters. Like an RPG? Right.' Oliver kept the thought to himself.

What could he say? He was a programmer through-and-through. It's what he did. Though, he did know a few other skills that made him a handy-man of sorts. He had a ton of experience renovating homes and dealing with closed water and electricity systems, and there was that engineering minor.

"I can do some lifting, and I know my way around a construction site," he replied. "I'm also a certified engineer."

Tsune made a humming sound.

Colt nodded. "Huh. Well, what do ya know? I'm sure a burgeonin' settlement could use that type a' skill. But what would an engineer be doin' snoopin' around ruins like that?"

Oliver blanked. "I got lost."

"You...got lost?"

He nodded stiffly. Colt's eyes flitted over to Tsune, who was staring at Oliver like a hawk. After a moment, she made humming sound. She was reading his mind! Or something like that. Oliver suddenly felt much less secure.

"Well, damn." Colt seemed disappointed in him, shaking his head a little. "I don't know how that can happen." He sighed. "Get settled in outside I guess. An' don't come in here without knockin', ya hear?"

Oliver chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

He turned to leave. He could still feel Tsune's eyes on him, almost on the verge of glaring at him. 'Leave me alone woman!'

"Hey, what's wrong…?" He heard Colt ask gently behind him.

He didn't hear any more of the conversation behind him on account of the door clicking shut. His thoughts swirled as he stepped down the landing. A settlement, huh? At least he would be relatively safe. But what would happen if the people there learned about the obvious gap in his knowledge about everything? He needed a plan. No, first he needed information.

His eyes were drawn to the lone bookshelf that sat on one side of the living area. He was sure Colt and Tsune wouldn't mind.

With a book in hand—somehow titled in English much to his luck and relief—he took a seat and dove into the world history of N'erra.

'N'erra, huh? Strange name for a planet.'

He left it unsaid that all of it was just an effort to distract himself, lest he go insane being so far from home.

A/N: Hi. New story. Based off of MGE, probably not even enough to count as part of the fandom. This is essentially my take on an Isekai world with a shit ton of history, my own lore, and a lot of twists and turns you'll be seeing in the future. Yes, the mamono are a thing, and they aren't 'OOC' either. As you could probably tell, 'Tsune' is an Inari, and a particularly kinky one at that. It's always the quiet ones that get ya.

I honestly don't expect this story to get much traction at all, so it's more for me to fuck around with than anything else.

Can you spot the cameo by the way?

Until next time,

SYD out.