Chapter 6 - Like Birds In a Cage

Barely several minutes in, and I'm already regretting my choice. I initially thought the hallway to be as dwindling and convoluted as the one back at my technical school at most. Totally didn't expect a crisscrossing system of rat tunnel straight from Vietnam War though, one that I'm currently forced to traverse within. For something made solely for utilitarian purposes, its creators had been really damn considerate in building its corridors with extra twists and turns, making it annoyingly hard to navigate through them without forgetting which way you came from. The astounding lack of furniture along the hallway (plant pots, directional signs and wall cameras for example) that can be used as milestones doesn't exactly help the case either. I trudged randomly through the maze, hunched forward to better support the sack of essentials behind my back, that felt heavier and heavier the more I walked. In one hand, I held my plasma pistol at the ready, while the other held the humanoid's toy sniper rifle by the barrel, dragging it behind me like an useless hiking cane. I had no idea what use could I have for this long piece of junk, but decided to haul it with me regardless. In my way, I encountered numerous vacant rooms, all of which were too degraded to guess their original purpose. I had no intention of taking a rest in any of them despite my growing fatigue, since they all were useless as a vantage point, in case of a fight. Only one entrance, contain little to no cover inside, and way too cramped for my liking. Those humanoids wouldn't even need to waste ammo at me if I hide in here. A single grenade will do the job just fine. Yes, it is apparent that I'm immune to their ink, but who knows what can longer-term contact with the substance do? I'd rather not find out myself. Just because you're impervious to something, doesn't mean you should throw caution out of the window when dealing with it. Anyway, talking of the ink, I think its effect is kicking in right about now. The skin on my arms, legs, and pretty much every exposed body part that got hit by the ink is now beginning to show red rashes, which feel incredibly itchy when touched. My vision became blurry, and my limbs feel stiff to move. I probably hasn't noticed these symptoms before due to the lack of light and the fact that I was busy trying not to die, only coming to my attention once I subconsciously scratched my nose under my helmet visor's glow.

… Oh shit, oh fuck… I'm in trouble. - I cursed internally, fumbling inside my jacket's pocket for a health-stim, only to halt my action when my eyes met the instruction printed along its side.

[User warning: The "SPEEDHEAL 17.2 Advanced First-Aid Injector" is created specifically to treat mild to medium external injuries such as cuts and bruises. It is not a cure-all wonder-drug contrary to common misconception, and must not be treated as such. Contraindicated in patients with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and cardiac conduction disorders. Keep out of children's reach]

… Well, just fucken kill me.

Exasperated, I quickly put the injector back, then retreated to a nearby room to safely take out the bigger med-kit from my back. Surely, there must be some sort of detoxifier or antidote in there, right? It's military standard-issue after all. Taking off the bulging backpack and set it near the room's entrance - which thankfully still possess a door, I began to dig the little box - which is so "conveniently" lying on the bottom of the bag, goddammit - up from layers after layers of assorted loots, whining internally about how much of a pain in the ass it is. Everything inside my backpack are so densely-packed that I had to pry them out by force, which was a real drag for my tired self. Every time I took three or four items off my bag, I would poke my head out to the hall to check for enemies, then resuming my tedious work after confirming that the coast is clear.

Yep, nothing round here so far. What a relief to know that I'm not tailed.

Finally, after pulling out the folded solar charger - thankfully still intact - and placing it aside with my neatly stacked pile of items, I took out the med-kit with some struggle and placed it in front of me. Yep, according to its description, the solution to my problem is definitely in here. With a small grin, I hastily opened the med-kit and-

'Sqrchhhhhhhhhhh…!'

…

-A muddy and long squelching noise from outside the hallway made me froze up. As quietly as possible, I closed the med-kit shut and tossed it into the loot pile. I'm definitely not alone.

Then I cautiously dropped to a crawl and peered out of the doorway with gun drawn and ready, my survival knife gripped firmly in the other hand.

The sound was coming from the left end of the hallway, getting increasingly louder and accompanied by the trademark shrill shriek of the fish-Indians, which is conveniently what I've been dreading to meet the most. Alright, we all know that these monsters hunts in large number, and four charges of plasma isn't gonna do shit against them. So if worst comes to worst, I'll just dump the remainder of my cell at the horde to trip them over with dead bodies, then piss off to the opposite direction. They seemed incapable of moving fast anyway, so theoretically I should be able to outrun them. Theorotically. But what about my stuff tho? Can't just leave these goodies here after spending all that effort hauling them with me now, can I?

I placed my gun down next to me and hastily stuffed the pile of loots back into my backpack like stuffing a turkey for Thanksgiving, prioritizing important items like food, charger, the bio-locked plasma SMG and my med-kit first. I somehow managed to finish the ordeal in less than several dozen seconds, having repacked nearly everything that I deemed necessary for my survival, only ditching my sunglasses, a set of replacement T-shirt and trousers, my wallet, and the still brand-new survival handbook - much to my chagrin. Welp, easy come, easy go I guess...

All of a sudden, a deafening 'SMACK!' rang out that made my hair stand up, causing the whole room to shake and sending a hailstorm of cement fragments and dust down my head. Coughing furiously, I took a peek out of the door frame only to lock eyes with a fat and slimy Fishman as tall as an adult at the left end of the hallway. The creature has apparently charged out of another intersecting corridor and slammed face-first into the drywall in front of it, creating a large gaping hole which it was currently embedded in. Oh shit, turns out they CAN run, and can do so fast enough to burst through reinforced carton and plaster with ease. That pretty much complicated things like... several thousand more times. I can't outrun them in a chase. There's NO WAY IN HELL I'm going to make it ten meters out of this room if I ever decide to flee. There are probably more of them following right behind that brute, and with such speed and number, four corpses (assuming that I got lucky, and managed to nail each fishmen with one shot) ain't gonna even make them flinch, let alone slow them down. Aw fuck, aw fuck, aw fuck... Change of plan! Change of plan!

The creature finished pulling itself off the drywall, bringing a sizable chunk of the eroded material out with it, and whipped out a makeshift but sharp-as-shit cleaver. It eyed me head to toe with its savage balloon eyes, licking its "lips" in hunger and slowly lowering its body for another blind charge, while I stared back at its forehead through the shaking reticle of my gun's holo scope. Yep, hard to deny that I'm on the verge of pissing my pant right now, and can't steady my aim for shit.

But before both sides could do anything however, something gristly, horrifying and absolutely unexpected happened. The Fishman suddely let out a earth-shaking roar, but not in bloodlust or glee, but in agony as an armored and mechanical fist burst forth through it's chest with a wet disgusting squelch, sending vile green blood and several chunks of organs all over the ground before it. The creature stared wide-eyed at the gore-coated appendage, whimpering uninterrigible noises in surprise. Then its facial expression (the creature turned out to be capable of it) rapidly changed, from surprise to shock, then dread, and finally settling in scorching rage of a cornered animal. Even with the life slowly leaving its body, the Fishman still growled and snapped its disproportionately long and sawtooth-filled jaw behind its back in a desperate attempt at retaliation. It finally rolled its bulbous eyes backward and die for good when the robotic arm retracted back violently, causing another fountain of blood to spew out and sending the corpse slumping to the ground like a sack of potato. The hallway is dark, but not enough to completely obstruct the skeletal frame and towering stature of the inhuman killer, who is now standing menacingly over its victim, staring at me emotionlessly with its two bright-blue, vertically-stacked "eyes". And with just a little bit of squinting, I was able to get a good view of this newly-emerged assailant.

Wait, I'd be damned... Ain't that...?

Meanwhile, deep inside the facility's main operation matrix...

...

[Analysis on East Wing's main blast door: Breach detected. Structural integrity compromised.]

[BIOHAZARD WARNING! Unidentified and potentially hazardous substance detected around blast door's perimeter and surface-level main hall. Proper hazmat protection is advised when entering said areas.]

[Loading...]

[Execution of "Emergency Protocol_ " = allowed by default. Initializing step (1)...]

[...]

[Thawing and activating 21% of on-site sealant nanomachine reserve...]

[...Done]

[...]

[Nano-sealing of detected breach in progress. Current status: 8%]

[Note: upon completion of this process, the blast door will enter a state of permanent lockdown, rendering it unresponsive to any reopening attempts the future. Only the site's Overseer has the authorization to to override this protocol.]

[...Current status: 31%]

[...57%]

[...70%]

[...86%]

[...98%]

[...Current status: 100% complete. Breach successfully sealed. Step (1) completed. Initiating step (2)...]

[...Decontamination of affected area in progress. Current status: 12% complete.]

[...26%]

[...52%]

[...86%]

[...97%]

...

Outside the bunker's entrance, at the Octoseeker's landing site...

Jades isn't exactly having the time of her life at the moment. Currently, she was sitting cross-legged on her trusty foldable chair which she'd placed just outside the seeker's door, a cold can of Diet Maronite in one hand, and her four hidden Tableturf Octo cards in the other. On the other side of the camping table before her, sat her two octotroopers bodyguards, each with their own set of cards held in tentacles.

"I draw... 'Octoshot Pro' and 'Burst Bomb' duo. Plus one card for you - no, not you, idiot! The one on the left. Yes, you. - and deny your draw chance of this turn." She said in a bored tone, eyeing the octotroopers on the right to draw his card, which it did with no emotion whatsoever.

Jades sighed in annoyance upon seeing the drawn card on the table, then proceed to put another card from her set on to of it. "Seriously? 'Splat Charger' and 'Inkling Scum' combo? Blam! Shucking countered by 'Octobrush', and you lose. My cod... I know you guys are all sub-brick alright, but never had I expected this degree of stupidity. To deal such terrible combo... You bunch are just insufferable." She facepalmed, then took a good long swig of her fizzy drink as to swallow her frustration down with each octoling engineer then dropped the empty can onto the table and inquired her subordinates with visible exasperation: "Alright, you incompetent shrimps. Answer me truthfully: do you guys even know how to play? Did you get the rules or not? Was my last ten minutes of explaining all for nothing!?" There was no doubt that she was getting real pissed, partly because of the alcohol getting to her head, and partly because of having to watch amateurs fumble with her favorite card game from the position of a certified pro. To add even more fuel to the fire, the two octarians shook their head in almost perfect unison upon being questioned, as if wanting to provoke her. Jades has had enough of this bullshit.

She slammed on the table with both hands, causing the cards on it to bounce up and scatter all over the place. The two octotroopers were also startled, mouths agape and pupils shrinking in a very rare display of fear.

"AAAAAAAAARGH!" The engineer let out an anguished scream that further agitated her two guards, then shot from her chair and stomped loudly into the octoseeker, each step reverberating loudly on the vehicle's metal floor. "Man, screw this carp! I'm so done with you shuckers! Off to get a drink! Ugh, why do I have to wait outside like this!? Why can't I go in there with my gurls!? It's so damn boring here!"

It's been a full hour since the unit entered the compound, and 26 minutes ever since they'd suffered massive loss of expendables, a KIA Linda and a mortally wounded Kaye, and had to come back out to resupply. Despite the serious reduction in combat force, and knowing the true capability of the opponent, Oceanica still didn't let her in with them, saying that a combat engineer's role during operations like this is to remain at the seeker with the pilot, keeping it ready at all times in case they need a quick extraction. To shell with all those rules and protocols, Jades was dying to splat some enemies. She'd enlisted for the actions and glory, and not to be used as some sort of emotional-support mascot, for Oct's sake! At least let her get revenge in the name of Linda or something! Not that she really knew the rookie, or lamented for the girl's death or anything; just an excuse to jump into combat. In the ever hostile, militaristic, poverty-laden and down right barbaric hellhole that is Octavia, where the strong regularly eats the weaker for snack, territory-wide power outage is a constant, crime of all sorts runs rampant, and the inhabitants fights each other over even the most basic of needs, death is an occurrence so common that people have learned to disregard them as just a big inconvenience.

The two octotroopers was about to follow their boss inside when an empty soft drink can hit the dirt beneath their scooters with a 'thud!' "Stay the shuck where you are! I have enough headaches on my plate already. By the Great Oct!..." She snapped, before disappearing into the seeker, leaving the two octotroopers to clean up their chillout spot in silence. They began to dilligently collect the scattered cards, dispose of Jades's empty beverage cans and snack packagings, and folding up her camping table set without as much as an eye-roll to their short-fused boss's verbal lashing. The two were about to bring their stuff back into the seeker, when one of the two octotroopers noticed something strange happening on the blast door. It tugged its friend by the tentacle, drawing the latter's attention...

Meanwhile, Jades was busy cracking her 4th cold one from the team's cooler. The anger before has somewhat subsided thanks to the liberal use of soft drink, and she was about to take a sip from her newest can when...

(CURSED OCTOTROOPER NOISE) - The wail was ear-splitting, guttural and nearly unintelligible, but carries enough accent to be identified as of octarian origin. It nearly made all five of her hearts malfunction in shock, and she dropped her still frothing drink onto the seeker's newly-washed carpet as the result. Just when she though her day couldn't get any worse. As soon as Jades managed to calm down, the octoling stormed loudly outside with a fierce scowl on her face, her brella lock n' loaded with malicious intend.

"What. the. SHELL IS WRONG WITH YOU DOGFISHES!?" She practically hissed at the two octotroopers like a feral lynx, pointing the shotgun right at the nearest one's face. Despite the octoling's unrestrained fury, the two octarians continued to wail - albeit in a much softer volume for their lives - and pointed their tentacles at the blast door, which prompted her to take a glance at the structure by reflex. Then, her glance became a slack-jawed stare, and Jades finally lowered her weapon to take in the change that was taking place on the ancient gate. It was a surreal sight to behold.

Around the edges of the large hole she'd just drilled half an hour ago, dark-grey goo began to spew out, rapidly increasing in size and thickness, making a low buzzing sound as it does. Then after reaching the size of her body, the vile blob stopped expanding further and instead began to contort and deflate itself, spreading its excessive mass to fill the entrance completely like it has a mind of its own.

"What the shuck is..." Jades was absolutely flabbergasted. She immediately dropped her weapon down and took out her octo-phone to record the event. Unfortunately, the girl reacted a minute too slow, and by the time she managed to open her phone's camera app, the otherworldly occurrence had already ended. In the place where the gaping cavity had previously been, a light grey and equal-sized patch of condensed mystery blob has taken place, turning the blast door's surface back to its original state.

Still in a confused daze, Jades sprinted toward the bunker's entrance, her two guards driving closely behind in full speed. She then abruptly stopped in front of the gigantic structure - nearly becoming a roadkill for the two bewildered octotroopers, who Tokyo-drifted in a full 180 to avoid running her over - and touched the restored section of its surface.

She then kicked the spot a few times to confirm her examination, before shooting it twice with her brella for good measure. Unlike the untouched area around it, Jades's ink actually stuck to this new hardened goo surface, creating a patch of pink ink that she can cling onto, much to her surprise.

Oh wow... I-is this some sort of automatic repair mechanism the facility has? Fascinating indeed! - Jades thought, taking several pictures of the blast door as proof. She already got some pictures of its drilled and initial state tho, so there's really no fear of her claim being seen as hoax. Then, the octoling put her phone away, and continued to satiate her curiosity and generally enjoying the only interesting moment of the operation for several more minutes...

...until the full weight of it hit her like a truck.

"Oh shit! WE HAVE A SITUATION! Uhhh uhhhhh... where's my damn radio... Alright. (Ahem) Guys, this is Jades calling, do you copy?" Panic began to take hold of Jades, and she called urgently into her walkie-talkie, only to be met with the ominous sound of static from the other end.

"I repeat, do you copy!?" She tried again, her voice now carry desperation in rich supply. "Guys? Anthia!? Oceanica!? ANYONE?... Carp."

She was again met with static. It is apparent that her connection with the team inside has been severed, and there's nothing she can do about it. She then proceeded to disregard her superior's previous order and requested for full backup, but to her bewilderment, that was also unavailable. Even her phone is out of service, despite her location being well within Octarian territory. As if the entire area is under the influence of a signal disruption device, most likely located within the facility.

"By the Oct... This is NOT good." Jades grumbled, slapping her forehead in distress, but calmed herself down shortly after. "Alright, this is fine, this is still fine. It's just a simple locked door, nothing they can't handle, right? Like... C'mon! We're called professionals for a reason! Just...sit here, guard the seeker, and wait for them to find a way out. I got a week-worth of food and water, along with octotroopers guard, so I should be able to hold out until then." Jades assured herself.

"...Or, I can just drill through the door again, and get my girls outta here." Jades thought, glancing at the drill's heavily-damaged countersink, and the burnt-out zapfished trapped on top of it. "...Or not. Yeah, best not try that."

Thus, her excruciatingly long episode of sitting duck and doing shit began.

Only, little did she know that the matter isn't as simple as having enough food and water like she initially thought.

"His condition is stable, for now." Mira sighed, discarding her antiseptic-drenched medical gloves into the nearby plastic trashbag, which was filled with bloody gauzes, bandages and plaster coverings. She then began to clean up spare medical equipments and carefully place them into the med-kit. "Our basic first aid can only do so much. I cannot stress this enough, but Kaye is in URGENT need of proper medical attention right now, and the sooner we piss off this Octo-damned facility, the better it'll do for his, and everyone in this team's health". She grunted irritably to her colleagues - more particularly to her team leader Oceanica, who seemed annoyed at her subordinate's attitude but didn't react - and stuffed the med-kit back into her backpack. "Also, where's my stretcher? What's taking Maurice so long?"

"They're coming! They're coming!" Anthia called out, then jogged toward the duo to help carry the door. "Good work, guys. Tis' exactly what we're looking for. Where'd ya get this?"

"It was lying right at the end of this catwalk. Kaye's property, apparently." Jason replied, setting the door down next to Kaye. "Oh carp! He doesn't look so good? Are we late or something!? Is... Is he dead!?" He began to panic upon seeing his friend's unresponsive state and mummy-like appearance, having been tightly bound in untold layers of bandage and splints. Both Anthia and Maurice began to calm Jason down and lead the guy outside, to avoid another fit of hyperventilation from him.

"Don't fret, he's fine. Mira just gave him a shot of anesthetic because he was squirming too much when she touched him. Now, continue doing your guard duty." Anthia said without a hint of comfort to the sobbing octoling boy, then turned and motioned Maurice to follow her.

"What a crybaby, amirite? I bet if it weren't for his innate sniping talent and above-average physique, dude wouldn't have been able to enlist at all, let alone getting into our spec-ops corp", Anthia shared to Maurice on their way inside, intentionally slowing her walking pace slightly to talk. "Don't get me wrong, mate. It's not that I hate or look down on the guy or anything. Jason's great at his job, no denying that. But coddamn if his attitude isn't a pain in the arse to deal with sometimes." Maurice however, got nothing to add to the small talk aside from nods of agreement, and so the conversation was dropped. The girl just isn't the type of person to judge people behind their back like the rough and alcoholic senior colleague next to her.

Then the two octoling girls finally made it into the inner room. Kaye is now lying flat on the makeshift stretcher, with Mira and Oceanica standing near its two corners.

Oceanica unclipped her radio, switched to her private channel with the engineer outside and said, "Jades! This is Oceanica calling in! Do you copy?... I repeat, do you copy!?... Coddamnit." She sighed and put the device back. "I can't reach her at the moment. There's no doubt that something is blocking our signal in here." She then turned to Maurice and Anthia, unfolding her octoshot.

"Now we move to the hard part, people. Mira and Alice, you guys bring Kaye back to the seeker. Anthia and Jason, stay guard our turf at the park's main gate. I will provide cover for these two." Oceanica said.

The sisters then lifted the stretcher up and left the room along with the rest of the team. On their way outside, Oceanica quickly waved for Jason and two octotroopers to tag along, then walked down the stairs Kaye had previously used.

"Wait a minute... Hey boss, have you covered the turf along our way here?" Anthia asked, looking uneasily at the rusted metal floor beneath her feet.

The elite, annoyed at her subordinate for asking such arbitrary question out of the blue, turned around and snapped back... "Of course I have, you dimwit! What do you take me for? Some ra-oooooh..." Only to trail off upon realizing what the girl was asking about. The ground they're standing on is completely free of ink. This also caught the attention of other team members, and they too began to look around in shock.

"Wha-how... What the flop!? Where did all the ink go!?" Oceanica yelled in anger and confusion, quickly finding out that not just their area, but the entire hall has also been mysteriously and thoroughly de-inked, returning to their original depressing drab-grey color.

"It couldn't have evaporated that quickly; our ink can take as much as two days to disappear. What the shell could've done this in such a short time?" Jason asked no one in particular, visibly unnerved from the bizarre occurrence.

"And... Ugh, what is that putrid alcoholic scent? Did anyone else smell that?" Maurice scrunched her face in disgust, pressing her nose against the sleeve of her armored top to block out the smell, to no effect.

"Yeah, I can too. It's very faint, almost unnoticeable, but it's there." Anthia replied. "Faint? Is your sense of smell damaged or something, sista?" Maurice raised an eyebrow, an unusual tone of sass in her voice.

"Nope, it's just yours being too sensitive. Everyone can also hardly smell it like me." Anthia shrugged, gesturing to her colleagues.

"It's ethanol, a kind of disinfectant. It was probably released right after they cleaned the place of ink. Dunno why you would find it unbearable though, by the way. I find it quite pleasant." Mira shared, earning incredulous stares of 'waddafuq?' from the entire team. Apparently no one else shares the same sentiment as her.

"Alright people! Stop this chit-chat and get going. We got Kaye in critical condition, and his attacker still lurking somewhere in here, and I'm not in the mood to waste more time with small talks." Oceanica barked sternly, gesturing down the exit hallway below then continued her way down the stairs. The rest of the team have no choice but to follow, forcing the strangeness that has just happened off their heads

"My cod... I expected some weight alright, but totally didn't think dude would be THIS heavy. My arms are killing me!" Maurice complained behind her sister, readjusting her grip on the door to relieve some fatigue from her shoulder.

"Yeah me too. We're almost there, so... (grunt), hang on!" Mira replied through gritted teeth, raising the door high above her head to prevent the injured octoling on it from sliding off.

"Ay, guys. You see anything back there? Got a feeling that we're being watched."

"All clear so far. Keep going." Jason replied from the end of the formation, his stingray training left and right in search of threats. When they reached the hallway leading to the blast door, Jason and Anthia, along with the octotroopers broke from the group and moved to secure the choke point, providing cover fire for the other three members. They walked through the dark exit corridor with haste, giving a wide berth to their newest member's corpse in the middle of the hallway, and finally reached its end after a while... Only to emerge in another dark and very spacious room.

"Uhhh... Is this really the path we came from? I don't see any way out." Maurice asked quizzically, setting Kaye on the ground with her sister to take a small rest.

"Y-yeah. I am fairly certain that we're going the right way. There're even the Stranger's bullet holes from our previous fight as proof for that." Oceanica pointed her octoshot's underbarrel torch at the scorched and punctured walls on both of their sides. "Which means, the blast door should be right ahead of us and... Oh no. Oh carp..." She then proceed to shine her flashlight at where the door's drill hole used to be, then all over the area around it, mouth agape in rising terror. Her subordinates was about to ask what she meant by that, when realization also kicked in for them as well. The room's temperature suddenly feels like it's been dropped all the way to zero, and a dreadful silence soon followed, so thick was its density that one could've heard a pin drop.

"... We're stuck here." Oceanica finally took a deep breath and concluded, her uttered words broke the stillness like a sledgehammer, confirming the fear in the pit of their stomachs that none of them dared to address before.

"... You're joking... R-right?" Maurice shakily asked, tredipidation written all over her face, "Surely, there must be a way to get out of this? Oh! Oh wait, you can call for Jades to... Oh..." She stopped and swallowed hard upon remembering about the signal-jamming field Oceanica has mentioned of earlier. "... You guys have any other idea? Anyone, please?... No?" She received no answer, so the girl decided to take a look at the construct herself. Walking toward the perplexingly intact blast door, Maurice began to touch, scratch, punch and kick its surface, even going so far as to shoot it several times with her octoshot, in hope of shedding whatever illusion standing between her and her freedom. Each unsuccessful attempt put a strain on the poor girl's already weakened morale, until in finally shattered under the combined weight of her failure. In utter desperation, Maurice unloaded her entire ink tank onto the damnable structure, then buttstroked it with her weapon again and again, until its frame began to show slight cracks.

"OPEN CODDAMNIT! Just (thwack!)...shucking (thwack!)... OPEN THE SHELL UP! (Thwack!) RAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" (Thwack!)...

But in the end, the young octoling's efforts were all for naught. The door didn't budge nor give way, neither did a single gap reappeared on its magically-healed surface. It just stood there motionlessly like it had always been throughout the ages, as if it was looking down at her and silently mocking her impotent fury.

Defeated, Maurice slumped down against the door with her hand hugging her face, eyes brimming with tears of hopelessness. "...Oh cod... I can't... What're we gonna do!?... Are-are we going to...end up l-like Linda?" She repeatedly mumbled to herself. The other two octoling's of the group were also not faring any better than their youngest member; seeing Maurice - once meek but joyful and innocent - reduced to this feebly sobbing ball of misery has caused their morale to plummet rock-bottom. Oceanica has dropped her bossy and prideful personality, and was now leaning against the wall, biting her right hand's fingers until they became beet-red and on the verge of bleeding as a coping mechanism. Mira however, didn't lament, become hysteric or engage in self-harm like her teammates. She just stood still, staring blankly to the ground as if trying to come to term with their new predicament, and given how dead and hollow her eyes were becoming, she was also failing at that. Suddenly, distant calls of Jason and Anthia came from somewhere inside the hallway, snapping the roller off her trance, and she directed her empty gaze toward the four newcomers - who stormed into the blast door compartment with weapons drawn.

"What happened!? You guys alright? I heard gunshots and shoutings!" Jason nearly screamed on Mira's face, but to his surprise, the strong and carefree soldier he has always known didn't respond. Instead, she weakly pointed at the blast door, then he and Anthia also knew. And in the next minute, the whole team was sitting in different corners of the spacious room, each member occupied with coping with their situation in different ways - even the two lowly octarians, who also seemed to sympathize with their masters' plight by looking to the ground with their comically-large eyes and coiling their tentacles into a ball.

It wasn't long before someone decided to speak again, and that person was Mira, but not to pacify her teammates or suggest a solution, but to vent out her own distress by blaming others for their current deadlock.

"Well, no carp, look's like we're shucking trapped!" She sneered, earning questioning glares from some of her teammates, "Can't say I'm surprised at this outcome though, given all the bad signs and red flags we'd encountered along the way, that YOU, Oceanica, were too ignorant to notice." She pointed a finger at her team leader's face, who bolted the fuck up with newfound frenzy, apparently not willing to take this jab lying down.

"The shell you said to me, you scrawny lil' dogfish?" The elite inquired in a provoking tone, tilting her head to the side and hands on her hip, "I didn't do carp! You were the one who waltz'd into the place first without my order, like a shucking bottom-feeder chasing after trashes, making us follow you!" She countered, unwilling to take a step back even when Mira leaned in dangerously close to her face with hands curled into fists. Anthia and Jason also stood up to intervene, sensing the tension escalating red-hot around them.

Ever since this salvage team was formed, they've always been seen an the most peaceful, cooperative and united bunch in the whole department. While every other team fights amongst themselves tirelessly over paycheck distribution, faults during mission and even the most frivolous of reasons such as their favourite genre of music or their love for the Squid Sisters, they sits in the back, watching their rival teams' drama unfold while making jokes and telling stories to each other. Instead of considering their teammates as simply cooperators that they can totally forget the existence of after work hour like other teams, this one's members sees each other as friends, a small family even. Sure, there were bickers from time to time - mostly involves Oceanica and her insufferable demeanor at the center, mind you - but they were small and inconsequential, and were usually resolved in laughter, not something that can get half the squad a trip to the infirmary for days - something that happens so frequently, it became part of the reason why this Salvage Department has so many reserve squads in it. And truth be told, their feat to keep peace among themselves is pretty dang impressive, given the aggressive, curious, egocentric and impulse-driven trait of their Octoling race.

And now, that fine reputation was being torn to pieces as the two elder sisters of the team were on each other's throats, showering each other with degoratory names and multitude of insults. Anthia and Jason tried to pull the two feral octoling's apart and resolve the situation, but then Oceanica accidentally mentioned the splatling-gunner in one of her curses, and now a third faction has joined the war. Knowing well that there was nothing he could do in this situation, Jason decided to give up and return to his corner, but was also pulled into the slander-fest when Anthia decided to use him as an example for Mira's incompetence for no reason, leaving only Maurice and the two octotroopers as bystanders. Turns out, the octoling boy IS actually capable of being extremely foul-mouthed when necessary, despite his usual meek, weak-willed and carefree self.

At one point, the quarrel got so heated, that Mira threatened to let her dynami-roller do the talking, which was immediately followed by similar threats and the dry cocking sound of weapons being racked from the other three.

"Guys, stop." Maurice tiredly lifted her head up and pleaded, but her words went unheeded, drowned out by the torrent of profanities spew out by all four parties in the rate of a machine gun.

"Stop arguing, please!" She tried again, this time louder and in a more upset tone. They didn't stop, instead seemingly became even more liberal with their use of insults. Maurice has just been through one hell of a panic, and she has neither the mood, strength or patience needed to deal with this in her usual peaceful way. So the annoyed octoling girl took a deep breath and -

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"...-did that. It was very effective.

The group immediately stopped their battle of words, and turned to Maurice in surprise. Mira stammered perplexingly.

"M-maurice, you-"

Only to be cut off mid-sentence by her red-faced and VERY pissed sister, "Yes, I said it! Shut up, all of you. Why are you fighting each other like that!?"

"W-well it's because that skank started it first, duh!" Oceanica gestured toward Mira. "She was the one who d-"

"I DIDN'T START CARP YOU DIRTY SQUID-CLAPPER, YOU TAKE THAT BACK. YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT N-" And then, they proceed to pick up exactly where they'd left off, completely forgetting about Maurice once again.

" GUYS! CUT. IT. OUT!" Maurice yelled again, and this time managed to gain the four's full attention.

"Why are you all like this? What are you trying to accomplish here!? How yelling and being at each other's throats gonna change the fact that we're shucking stuck in here!? Why don't you all just calm the shell down and think of a viable solution out of this together? We probably would've been able to come with one right now, if you guys decided to do it from the start! We're supposed to be a team, for Oct's sake! Oh my cod... Just, STOP!" Maurice scolded her colleagues with teary eyes, making everyone around her flinch in shock. Her lecture didn't sound persuasive or convincing in the slightest, nor does it carry enough fierceness to intimidate the individuals in question. No, it wasn't the content of Maurice's little outburst that snapped the team from their verbal conflict, but her abrupt 180 degree change of personality did. The four octolings all stared at Maurice in disbelief for a long while, then Mira and Oceanica continued to glare at each other with scornful eyes, but decided not to push it further than that.

"... Yeah, you're right, Maurice... I lost my composure for a bit there, and I apologize for that. We were all so desperate." Mira finally said, breaking eye contact with her rival. The other three nodded in agreement with Mira's words, and holstered their weapon.

"I accept your apology, sis. Now, let's pretend this has never happened, and find a way out of here together, shall we?" Maurice clasped her handa together and turned to retrieve her dropped backpack, leaving the whole team flabbergasted about how she could revert back to her usual cheerful self in a single blink of an eye. As soon as she left, Oceanica threw another glare at Mira as if to say "This ain't over yet buddy", to which the roller also returned one in kind. The two octolings both knew that they're gonna reignite this battle in another time, preferably without any of their teammates around to intervene.

"Alright, people" Oceanica commanded, voice still shaky from agitation. "You got four minutes to refill your stingray specials and do an equipment check. After you're done, gather around. We got some planning to do, if we want to stay alive in the following hours." Judging by the delay and unenthusiasm of Oceanica's subordinates in carrying out her order, it was obvious that her authority over them has been significantly damaged by the infighting earlier. She could see it right just around the corner, the nightmare that commanders regardless of ranks all fears. The situation when their unit's morale is low, the future before them seems hopeless, and they're not in a position to deliver any meaningful punishment to the troops. The situation where their role as a leader is only held by blind trust, and all it takes is a sign of weakness or incompetence from said commander to spark the flame of munity.

She'd heard countless stories of said situation from her seniors even before her promotion to Elite rank. How those luckless commanders were forsaken, kept as hostage, left behind for dead, and even outright executed by their rebelled troops when they lost their faith in the leader. And she vowed to not join the list of examples by any means necessary, even if she has to use underhanded tactics to ensure her survival. Oceanica took a glance at her still-preparing teammates, all of them completely oblivious to the sinister thoughts in her mind.

Mira is a strong, skillful, steadfast and descisive woman. She has what it takes to be a leader, and apparently has less-than-desirable opinion of me...

Memories of my time as a junior engineer flooded back as soon as I laid my eyes on the towering construct. Same box-shaped head and stacked camera lenses, same skeletal nanotube frame, and same thick bulletproof ceramic armor plates that gave me deep PTSD even to this day; they were a pain to pry open whenever I had to repair the power core guarded inside. And goddamn if the average amount of damaged A.M.C.U units shipped from the frontline in a SINGLE MORNING wasn't staggering. Even with more than 200 apprentices like me in the unit to share the workload, and the help of advanced machineries, it was still torture to operate on these tough bastards. Quite the miracle that I hadn't succumbed to work overload and exhaushion back then, somehow managed to survive until our eventual discharge at the war's climax. Still, the 46-days experience had deeply hammered the shape of my anxiety's source into my memory.

That exact same shape - minust the Polaris logo on its chest armor - was standing menacingly just 15-16 meters away from me, unmoving like a sculpture. For a moment, it all felt like I was in the seventh heaven. The presence of an activated A.M.C.U unit means the facility's automated security system is back online, and I can finally take a proper rest and let the bunker's immune system delete my pursuers off the Earth for me. I was about to lower my aim and approach the android non-threateningly, when I realized something was... off. Its general behavior doesn't match that of other A.M.C.U units I've encountered before at all. Instead of the fluid, organic and almost human-like movement normally seen in its kind, this particular unit is jerky, mechanical and uncertain if not downright clumsy, more akin to an industrial robotic arm in the assembly line. First red flag spotted. And instead of asking for my name and citizen ID number like in standard protocol, the A.M.C.U just... stared at me with its bright-blue camera eyes.

Oh shit... Something's definitely not right with this one. What's exactly wrong though? Is the thing corrupted or something? Should I try to approach it? - Countless questions popped inside my head, as I stared the robot from head to toe, in an effort to read its intention. That's when I noticed the second red flag on its body, which are patches of green liquid sticking all over its armor plates. Carbide ceramic don't rust, and the automaton's completely sterile storage environment ensuredthat no type of algae or mold could've survived to thrive on its body. Which left only one possibility. I looked down at the vile blood pooling around the fishman's corpse, then at the robot's armor platings again, realizing the similarity between the two liquid's color. Second red flag right there.

And the third red flag? It came right after that, when the android suddenly broke into a jog toward me. The only problem? Peacekeeping A M.C.U models normally don't jog or run to avoid startling nearby civilians, unless in pursue of an offender...

...or in combat.

Oh shit!

'POW!' - The dark hallway was instantly lit up as the first bolt of plasma zipped past the defective droid, creating a trail of ethereal aquamarine fire in its path, that I was unable to appreciate the beauty of, due to the dark spots blocking my vision. The construct flinched upon being fired at - which is also out of ordinary, for a machine with zero self preservation - and briefly turned to look at where the bolt has impacted. Then it continued its advance, this time sprinting straight at me in full speed.

It didn't get to close two-thirds of the distance though, because unlike my first shot which was fired entirely out of reflex, the second one didn't miss.

'KAPANK!' - The automaton flipped a full 180 backward and decked the floor with a loud 'clank!', a smouldering crater of molten silicon carbide on its chest.

Oh my God... Hah... Oh damn, I got it good! - I celebrated internally and exhale the breath that I didn't know I'd been holding, a big wave of relief washed over me...

...Only to suck that air right the fuck back in, when the supposed-to-be-dead A.M.C.U raised its head and stood up again in the most unnerving way imaginable. The FUCK MOTHERING thing just bent its arms and waist backward in an unnatural angle even for a robot, and propelled itself back on its feet with perfect balance while STILL maintaining "eye" contact with me, like those creepy mannequins in the old Silent Hill series I used to play. Why the hell is my trousers wet now?

FUCKINGGODDAMNSONOFAMOTHERFUCKINGUCKFUCK HELP MEEEEE!

The fight, flight or freeze response is an automatic physiological reaction of the brain to an event that is perceived as stressful or frightening. These responses are evolutionary adaptations to increase chances of survival in threatening situations, such as seeing a growling dog, slamming the brakes when the car ahead of you suddenly stops, encountering your mom with your pitiful exam result in hand-

-Or standing in the path of an ancient, psychotic and bullet-spongy murderbot hell-bent on doing a full reveal montage of your ribcage, just to name a few. In this particular situation however, my goldfish-sized brain decided to take the good ol' "flight" option, which led me to scramble myself back into the empty room instead of firing another shot, and slammed the door shut right in the machine's face. Then I turned to bolt to the corner of the room, only to realize too late that what I'd just stepped on wasn't concrete. I was flat on the ground before I could even know it, my face planted to the floor and the alien sniper rifle that was under my feet flung against the nearby wall with a sharp 'clang!'. Barely registering the pain thanks to the adrenaline rush, I flipped myself over with a loud grunt and whipped out my plasma pistol for a snap shot, just in time for the robot to... Open the door by its knob, in an almost gentle manner.

"Sir, please don't resi-"

I double-tapped the bastard regardless.

D-did I just hear something?

'POW!' - its abdomen armor plate caved in with a new smouldering hole, staggering the construct and sending a shower of sparks down my legs. Hot damn, was expecting that to penetrate through.

'POW!' - the next energy bolt was a lucky one, flying through the gap between its right arm's armor and hitting the joint, partially severing it from the body in a small but spectacular explosion. The force of the blast pushed the robot off-balance, causing it to collapse against the wall behind it. This time, it stayed down for real.

I stared in shock at the incapacitated A.M.C.U, taking rapid and laboured breath like there's no tomorrow. "Ohhhh... Oh my god... Close (gasp) fucking call!"

After several more seconds of trying to calm down my heartbeat, I sat up and drew my knife, dropping my pistol down since its barrel was still red-hot. I eyes the security bot before me with wary, reversing my grip on the knife. An A.M.C.U's neck is its most vulnerable (and hartest to hit) place, left completely unarmored on purpose to act as a secondary cooling vent. This series, despite being a direct upgrade of its predecessors in every aspect, still suffered major overheating issue in the field without any effective counter for it. This cooling vent is necessary to prevent the accumulated heat from getting to its control system or fusion battery, preserving their lifespan as well as avoiding any catastrophic failure in the long run. As a junior mechanic with extensive experience regarding this model of automaton, I know the exact spot in there that I can stick a blade into for maximum damage. The only issue? How to get to said spot without getting smacked to kingdom come by the thing's other three limbs.

Right when I was still occupied with sketching out my approach, something worthy of being noted into my "Today's List of Surprises" happened. The machine suddenly looked up and spoke.

First, only distorted white noise came out of the small grated speaker below its eyes, then the sound gradually became more and more coherent until a warm and modulated voice with a slight Bri'ish accent came out - the classic English butler's stereotypical voice.

"Brad Raymond, sir!"

... You gotta be shitting me.

"Sir, please calm down! Do not retaliate. I am here to help, and I mean no harm." It said reassuringly. We both stared at each other, one in complete disbelief, and the other in... Well, whatever the fuck is inside that box-shaped nogging of it.

...

"Wha- Hold on a minute. I might be going insane, but... YOU CAN SPEAK!?"