Eric jerked awake.

He yelled sharply in pain as he banged his head on the bunk above his own and fell back, grasping his forehead. For a long moment he lay there in confusion and pain. Where the hell was he? What had happened? He knew something had happened, the sense of urgency he was feeling couldn't have come from nowhere.

"You're finally up."

Eric jerked again and looked around...he was in his cell. At The Hole. And his cellmate was in the bunk above him. He remembered that at least…

"What happened?" he groaned, his head throbbing.

"That's what I was going to ask you," V replied. "They dragged you in, unconscious, about six hours ago, smelling of death and...something chemical. What happened after they took you away?"

Eric remained still for a long time. "...I can't remember."

"Hmm. What's the last thing you do remember?"

"...working out. Gauge was there. He spotted for me."

"That was today, at least. I think they hit you with some kind of short term memory eraser. I know they sometimes test medicines and bioweapons on us, they don't bother to hide that, but I've heard they've got some kind of experimental memory wiping gas. Try to focus. Are there any clues? What hurts?"

Eric took stock of himself. Besides his cloudy, throbbing skull, he realized that his elbow hurt.

"My striking elbow," he replied. "Hurts like I used it on something damn hard."

"So you fought someone."

"Maybe…"

"If it had been Johns, I think they wouldn't have dragged you back. And if it had been a prisoner, I think we would've heard about it by now…" V muttered.

"Let me get some sleep, maybe it'll get sorted and I'll remember something when I wake up...how long until morning?"

"About seven hours."

"All right." After a moment, he said, "whatever happened, it was bad."

V was silent for awhile, and then finally he just grunted. Eric pulled his blanket over himself and rolled over, facing the wall, trying to remember.

As he drifted off into a fitful sleep, he thought briefly of a gray chamber and a blank-faced horror.

The memories didn't return.

Or, if they did, not in any recognizable form. Eric woke up the next day sore and paranoid. He stuck to the routine that he had been establishing. Wake up. Take a leak. Brush his teeth. Grab a shower. Then breakfast. Then working out. He kept expecting something to happen, something to go wrong, anything different.

But there was nothing, save for the fact that the guards seemed to be watching him more closely now, when he could see them. They seemed content to leave the prisoners to themselves. During lunch, they came and called another prisoner away, apparently in the same fashion that they had him (he still didn't remember that part).

The guy never came back.

The day passed. Time came and time went, and still nothing happened.

The next day passed in much the same manner.

Then, the day after that, it happened again. He was working out, and then suddenly he was waking up back in his cell, almost exactly as he had the first time. V told him that basically the same thing had happened, they'd dragged him back to the cell while he was out. Only this time there was even more evidence that something had happened.

He was bruised and he ached, and it was obvious that he'd been in some kind of fight for his life, using his bare hands.

After breakfast following that second trip, Ranse Truman appeared suddenly by his side while he was working out, right as he was going for the bench press.

"Let me spot you," he murmured.

"All right," Eric replied.

It was obvious that he wanted to talk, he'd noticed the scrawny inmate studying him more than once, but he wasn't sure what it was about. Either joining his crew or maybe about what was happening to him. And either way he couldn't be much help.

Eric put on the weights and then laid down on the bench.

"What happens to you when you get taken away?" he asked, his voice low, casual. Eric was silent as he did his reps, debating on how he should respond. Also to see what might be on the table. "I can get you things if you tell me the truth."

There it was.

"What kind of things?" Eric replied.

"Drugs, mostly. Before you ask: no, no women. There are no women on this fucking rock, believe me, I'd know. Got lots of porn, though," he said.

Eric laughed. "Can you get zerk?"

"Possibly, it'd be really tough. Also, to be completely honest with you, I'm not sure I really want to give a guy like you zerk."

"Don't blame you. That actually makes me kind of sad that I don't have an answer for you," he replied. "I wouldn't have minded some drugs."

"So it's true? You can't remember?" he asked.

"It's true. I can't remember," he replied between reps.

"I might be able to help with that."

Eric looked up at him. Ranse looked back down, his face passive. They might have been talking about music or the lack of weather in space to a casual observer. He imagined this whole place was bugged, though. UAC had way too much tech and paranoia.

He finished his reps and put the bar back. "Okay, you've got my curiosity."

"I know a guy who can hypnotize you. That might be able to break through whatever's causing the memory loss."

Eric laid on the bench for a moment, considering that. Finally, he grunted and got to his feet. "All right, I'm game."

"Holy shit, you look like you were carved from granite, man," Eric said as he stepped into the hypnotist's cell with Ranse.

The grizzled old convict looked up at him from where he sat on his bunk, a book in hand. After a tense moment, he started chuckling. "You were right Ranse, nerves of steel, this one. No fear."

Danny was a pretty innocuous name for a prisoner, and it didn't seem to fit this man at first glance. Especially when he set his book aside and stood up. He was actually a couple inches shorter than Eric, but he had a presence about him that went beyond his gritty features and his muscular build and his many tattoos.

An old saying rose in his mind as he looked at him: Fear the old man in a profession that kills men young.

It had always been true, in his experience. It wasn't just what they could do, it was more what they would do. A lot of people were all bark and no bite, and even when push came to shove, their bite turned out to be not that strong. But some of the most dangerous men that he'd ever met had been middle-aged guys who had been in the military for decades and never really left the life behind.

Eric offered his hand. "Eric Crowe."

Danny laughed and shook it. "Just Danny," he replied. Then he sat back down on his bunk and slapped a chair directly across from it. "Have a sit down, hombre."

"All right," Eric said, taking a seat. He found himself face to face with the man. "So you're a hypnotist? You're kind of not what I was expecting."

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, it's not really my thing normally. Picked it up maybe fifteen years ago from this scrawny kid, back on Earth. Some little punk that got thrown in prison for pissing off the wrong cop. Nothing long, just a three month stretch, but I could tell it was gonna eat him alive. I felt bad for him, so I cut him a deal, offered protection for cleaning our cell. Turns out, he knew how to hypnotize. We used it to get high, but it has other applications."

"Wait, seriously? You can be hypnotized into being high?" Eric asked.

"Ha ha, yeah! Sounds nuts, right? But that little motherfucker told us he could get us high on any drug we'd already done. So I figured 'hey, got nothing but time, why not give it a shot?'. And I'll be damned, but it worked! It wasn't perfect and it was hard to do, but it worked most of the time. Neat little trick. This should be easier 'cause you're a jarhead."

"Why does that help?" Eric asked.

"Mental discipline, ability to focus, and a tendency to follow orders," Danny replied.

"I'm not so good with that last one," Eric muttered.

Danny grinned. "Yep, me too. Hell, why do you think we're in this slam? All right, let's get right down to business. They don't want you knowing something, which means they won't want us knowing it either, but Ranse here says you know the secret of this pit now."

"I might not," Eric cautioned.

"Maybe, but I'm willing to roll those dice. Now, I'm gonna tell you what to do, and I need you to follow it perfectly. I also need you to be receptive to it. This is more of a mind over matter kinda deal. Ranse, make sure no one bugs us, yeah?" Danny asked.

"I've got Molina on it," Ranse replied.

"Perfect. First thing we gotta do is get you in the right frame of mind. Okay, sit up a little straighter. Yeah, perfect. Hands in your lap. Yep, just like that. Now," Danny raised one finger between them, "stare at my finger. Focus on it."

Eric did it. He wondered idly what Danny was in for. He seemed extremely and authentically friendly for a hardened convict.

"Okay, you're focused. Now, I want you to close your eyes. Keep them closed. Good. Now, focus on just the sound of my voice. We're gonna shut down everything else around you, like sealing off airlocks, one by one. Listen to the sound of people talking out there...and shut it down. Listen to the buzz of the power...and shut it out. The hiss of the oxygen now...make it gone. Anything else that's left, put it away, push it out, just my voice remains."

Eric did as instructed. He was admittedly very curious. Danny was right about metal acuity, though, and having experience in following orders. He'd been through hell and back a hundred times over in his career. The ability to block shit out, to focus on your objective, it was crucial, and he'd developed it as necessary.

"So far, so good, hombre. Now, I want you to relax your body...hope you went to the bathroom before this. I've had guys piss themselves because they got too relaxed," he said, chuckling. "Yeah, relax everything, all your muscles. Okay, now, focus on your breathing. Slow and steady. In and out...how do you feel?"

"Distant," Eric murmured.

"Good. That's where we're supposed to be. Now, I want you to think back to what you were doing before the first time they took you away. Do you remember where it happened? What happened? When the guards came to get you?" he asked.

"No."

"I was there. It was Johns. He and his two heavy boys came, behind the glass, called you out. Brought you behind the partition. Then you disappeared into an-"

"Elevator," Eric said quietly.

"Right, that's absolutely right. Then what happened?"

Eric thought. It was harder now. The memories, he realized, were still there, but they were very distant. Foggy. Like it had happened a decade ago instead of a day. Parts were missing. He began to remember the scene that Danny had described. Johns. The heavies. Walking to the elevator. Taking it down…

"There was a security checkpoint," he muttered. "High-tech. Clean. Walked me through it. Everyone...was weird. Tense. Uncomfortable. Johns was...cruel, happy about it. Kept chuckling. Like he was getting ready to play a sick joke."

A long moment of silence went by.

"And then what?" Danny asked quietly.

"Not sure...it's really hazy now."

"All right, let's take it slow. Johns and his heavies took you down an elevator, into a security checkpoint with a lot of uncomfortable people. Were they guards? Technicians? Medics?"

"...guards."

"And then he took you somewhere else, right?"

"...yes. It was bright," Eric muttered. He kept struggling, the brain fog closing in, almost like a sensation of suffocating. He coughed lightly. "There was…" Another long pause.

"Focus, you're almost there. You've got this," Danny said.

"There was...a chamber. They put me in a chamber. Alone. Locked me in, I think. Bright. Really bright. And...death. And…" He struggled for a long moment, pushing, wanting desperately to know what had happened. Eric had endured memory loss before, a few times for a few different reasons, and it was always frustrating.

"You fought someone," Danny said.

"I…" He kept struggling, and they kept at it for several more minutes, but nothing came. Danny brought him back out of it. "I want to keep going," Eric said.

"No. Tomorrow," he replied. "Tomorrow at least. You can go crazy if you put too much pressure on. I've seen it happen. And I personally don't want to be in a cell with you if you lose it."

Eric shook his head and blinked rapidly, feeling like he was coming out of a deep sleep. "Dammit. I want to know."

"Believe me, we all do," Ranse said.

"It happened twice already," Danny said, staring at Eric contemplatively. "Good chance it'll happen again. And if they're doing the same thing over and over, it'll start to leave a stronger imprint."

"That's a good point," Eric muttered, then stood up. "I should go."

"Yeah, probably, I'm guessing they're watching you," Danny replied. "So, hush hush on our little therapy session, comprende?"

"One hundred percent."

Danny laughed. "Knew you'd get it! All right, go on, old man's gotta take his nap," he grunted. "He gets real grumpy if he don't."

Eric nodded and left with Ranse. They started walking around the catwalk. He sensed Molina at their back, keeping pace, keeping watch.

"Now what?" Eric asked.

"Now we wait for a repeat of history," Ranse replied.

Eric looked down at his fist. His knuckles hurt. "I'm not afraid of dying anymore, but whatever they're having me do down there is obviously dangerous. I might not make it back."

"Well...here's hoping," Ranse said.

Eric paused and looked around. "I don't think there's any hope left in this place, if there ever was any to begin with."

Ranse sighed heavily. "Yeah, you're right. We ain't getting out, but maybe we can take the bastards down with us."

"Maybe," Eric replied.

"Good luck," Ranse said, walking away, Molina in tow.

"You too," Eric replied.

They were all going to need luck for whatever storm was brewing on the horizon.

It was happening again.

The day after his hypnosis, during lunch, Johns came for him. He didn't look smug or superior this time around. He looked pissed. He had a black eye.

"Get moving," he growled, shoving Eric towards the elevator.

"Who gave you that?" Eric asked. "That's one good black eye."

"You did, fucker," Johns replied darkly. "And if the brains didn't want you untouched, believe me, I'd be stomping your worthless guts until they leaked out of your mouth and your asshole. I've done it before, I can do it again. Takes a long time to clean up."

Interesting. They got on the lift and rode it down.

"Why do they want me untouched?" Eric asked, probing. Johns and his heavies said nothing. "Come on, you really gonna play bitch to some egghead? Some smarty pants who you could probably bench press?"

"Shut it, Crowe," Johns growled through clenched teeth.

Very interesting.

The lift came to a halt and Johns and his two bodyguards walked Eric through that security checkpoint. It was all starting to look a little familiar. He felt a sense of great dread beginning to well up in his guts. It was almost fear, but it was closer to sour anticipation. Everyone they passed stopped whatever it was they were doing and turned to stare at him. Some with awe, some with fear, some with disgust.

"Eight this time," Johns said when they came to a row of doors marked with bold, flat black numbers.

They brought him to a door that had a big 8 stamped on it. They opened it up, shoved him into a too bright cell of gunmetal gray, and closed the door firmly behind him. There was nothing in the cell but the scent of death and…

Something else. Something wrong.

Something evil.

There was a single other door across the small chamber. Eric began to remember. Something was going to come through that door, and he was going to have to fight it. Well, he'd done it twice and come out basically untouched so far. He could do it again, right? He began loosening up, popped his neck and his knuckles, staring at the closed door.

There was a crackle overhead and Johns's voice came to him, sadistic and stark. "All right, hardass, let's see what you do with this one."

The door snapped open.

Eric felt something he hadn't for a long time: genuine fear.

Not dread, not anxiety, not worry, not apprehension.

Fear.

Raw fear.

It was cold and struck like black lightning. He could actually feel his hackles rising in a primal reaction of fear and adrenaline and hatred. The thing that lay beyond the threshold was looking at him. It was tall, he saw as it moved into the room, easily half a foot taller than him. It was built like a human. It had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. It even had hands and feet, two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth. A huge mouth.

And eyes that glowed with hellfire.

Its skin was leathery and red-brown, and it looked jacked, like it was a thing made for physical combat. A lot of hard muscle was packed onto its tall frame. Spikes of what looked like old ivory covered it, punching out through the flesh.

It raised one hand. It had very sharp claws.

The beast, whatever it was, cut loose with a clicking growl. Abruptly, the light in the room changed as it…

"What?" Eric muttered, staring, transfixed.

As it conjured fire from nothing. A ball of flame snapped into existence, hovering very slightly over its palm. The beast roared and began winding up to throw it. That kicked Eric in the ass. Those primal instincts he'd spent so long honing and sharpening and beefing up now returned the favor by saving his life.

The beast threw the fireball and it sailed over his head as he ducked and weaved to the left. He could smell it as it flew past him, an awful, acrid smell that also seemed somehow, in some fundamental way, wrong.

He felt hatred rising in him like bile as he stared at the creature. He wanted to kill it. He wanted to erase it from the universe.

The beast roared as Eric shot forward. Maybe if he could get one of those damn ivory spikes off, he could stab it to death. The creature threw another fireball and he ducked it, then rabbit punched it three hard, fast times in the gut, ducked under its arm as it tried to return the favor, and fell back. He winced and shook his hand.

It was like punching concrete!

And it didn't seem to have done a damn thing to that beast. God would he have killed for some zerk right about now. One shot of that shit would pump him up with so much adrenaline and extra strength that he probably could've punched its head off. Well, he didn't have that, all he had right now were his wits and his fists.

The beast took another swipe at him and he narrowly dodged it, getting some distance and circling to buy himself some time to think. It reeked, but it was a smell that he had never smelled before, and that was in and of itself alarming. Given all the shit he'd gone through, he'd smelled just about all the bad smells. But it wasn't just that it was unfamiliar, it seemed fundamentally wrong, almost like he was smelling something from another universe.

What was this thing!?

Eric ducked under another fireball and then decided to go with the plan that had snapped suddenly together in his head. He ran forward, dodged, swung around until he was behind it, then reached out in front of its face and brought his middle fingers into it eye sockets. The beast immediately began shrieking and shaking wildly and he had to fight to keep going, partially because it felt so damn disgusting. It was like jamming his fingers into microwaved jelly.

He grunted as one of the ivory spikes on its back poked painfully into his chest and gave up the position for the moment, extracting his fingers and falling back. The beast turned to face him and he felt a fraction of hope: he'd destroyed its eyes. The creature swiped at him several times and he dodged easily.

Knowing he'd already pushed his luck enough, he moved in for the killing blow. Feinting left and making a lot of noise about it, he quickly shifted right as the creature turned in that direction. He got around behind it again and then made his move. Wrapping his left arm around its face and yanking it back so that its throat was exposed, he grasped its right arm and yanked it up. The creature had already begun to reach for him, so he didn't have much resistance to work against, thankfully.

He drove one of its spikes into its throat and from the splash of blood he felt, opened up a wound. He held it there, screaming in fury, trying to finish the job. But in a burst of strength, the creature yanked its arm back and free of his grasp. Eric was too close to finishing the job to give up now. He drove his own fingers into the wound, bellowing as he tore it open wider. Blood sprayed in a massive geyser as he hit something crucial and the shrieks turned into gurgling.

"Come on, shitfucker!" he screamed, digging deeper into its musculature, tearing out whatever he could. He could feel flesh and meat ripping and tearing in his grasp.

Suddenly the monster staggered and then hit the floor. He just barely managed to let go of it and stop himself from falling over. He stared at it as it laid facedown on the metal floor, a pool of deep red blood slowly widening.

It twitched. Eric felt a primal, animal fury sweep over him and he leaped forward. Raising his leg, he brought his boot down on the back of its head. Once, twice, three times. Harder, and harder still, screaming like a maniac the entire time. Its skull cracked and then crunched. More blood gushed out. He became aware of a different smell, and suddenly realized that the chamber was foggy with something.

Just before he passed out, he thought: not again.