Frazzled, according to the Inkford Dictionary:

/ˈfrazəld/

Showing the effects of exhaustion or strain.
"After a long day of working under Mr. Grizz, Rebecca was frazzled."

Damaged by burning or exposure to heat.
"A stingray shot composed of boiling ink frazzled Rebecca to a significant extent."

With a new culture came plenty of new words and phrases. And with her new library card came new dictionaries and books.

Rebecca had been learning many new words and slang as of late, some intriguing, some odd, and some obscene. A vast cornucopia of culture had opened up to her, and it felt as if she were drinking from a firehose. Out of everything, however, her favorite word had become 'frazzled.'

After all, it described the first day of her new job perfectly.

As it turned out, Salmonid egg harvesting was dirty work, the kind of labor that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'wet work.' And wet work had always left her frazzled.

Aside from that…

Rebecca was, in many ways, adjusting well to her new life. She had settled into this new form of independence, finding a kind of joy in it. Balancing finances, planning her days and purchases, and being herself was all surprisingly gratifying. No military strata to climb, no superiors to impress, freedom from expectations… how had she lived like that in the past?

Looking back, she may have been a bit… overzealous in the old system. Was it how she coped in such a restricting structure? Perhaps she was just crazy?

Eh…

Of course, this was not meant to imply that at times, she didn't miss her old, regimented life, or at least some parts of it. But, after everything that had happened over the past week, she had to take what she could get.

After her ordeal with the new Stranger and subsequent rescue by the New Squidbeak Splatoon, Rebecca had finally relented - taking up Agent Two's offer of Inkopolis citizenship and housing. A bit of Church of Madai related business (and a quite unfortunate meeting with a certain deposed leader she knew) later, she was in! Safe!

She now had a roof over her head, paid with Church money and doubly insured by Squidbeak money. It was a dingy red brick building, with an equally dingy and peeling interior. Rebecca supposed not every part of Inkopolis could be so opulent. Every city had its slums. What did that say about her observation targets?

Was she like them?

Her apartment was quite bare. Not a surprise, seeing that she had just moved here, and apparently, an apartment didn't come with furniture here? Why were some bits of society so backward here?

Still, small blessings; she had a warm dry place to sleep, and the Agents had even given her a sleeping bag for the night. Why they couldn't get her a bed, she wouldn't know, but then again, this apartment had only been acquired today. Something about 'Church politics,' whatever that meant.

She had a small room, one she already envisioned as a living room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It even had a shower! Like always, the luxury these Inklings lived in, even those on the lower echelons of society was something else.

Of course, for her, those luxuries were coming at a cost. She was on the Agents' payroll now, a fact that chafed at her. The irony of her working for her previous mortal enemies wasn't lost on her, and like living here now, it would take a while to get used to. It did help that they would be assuming a 'hands off' approach with her work now.

Still, she was not one to stand idle, nor let her focus wander and be squandered, and while her task at keeping an eye on her four marks was a perfect outlet for her lingering, militaristic impulses, those four were also…

Making her frazzled, to say the least.

A bit of casual snooping and stalking had revealed that they worked as harvesters for a shady little business known as the Grizz Corporation, a conglomerate that specialized in the harvest and selling of power eggs from Salmonids.

Harvesters, whose job was to harvest like the name implied. Harvest, in this case, referring to the perpetration of extreme violence against the Salmonids. A bit… brutal.

Sure, Octarian society utilized power eggs too, but they were acquired through legal commerce with the Salmonid Queens! All it took was a few shiny bits of tech and technical know-how from her people, and the eggs would keep flowing from the Salmonids. The eggs had to flow; it was the only source of energy they had aside from elusive zapfish.

The Inkling's process, in comparison, was just primitive by comparison. Take what you want. No different from their attitude during the Great Turf War.

Her people had a much better system to acquire the eggs; why were the so called 'military state' Octarians more peaceful in this endeavor, rather than the non-militarized Inklings? And why would the Inklings need power eggs, for that matter? They certainly had enough zapfish to do fine without them.

Regardless, it was a barbaric practice, ripping power eggs from the salmonids, and her four marks, Rio, Vista, Marius, and Celius (err, no, Celia, her notes said), were quite skilled in doing so. And while her own morals weren't as depraved, this situation did provide an opportunity…

And so, with a single interview, a shocking lack of interview decorum, and the flourish of a pen, she sold her soul to Grizzco.

Almost immediately, was put straight to work, having been practically shoved into a new harvester uniform, a weapon thrust in her hands, and then bundled onto a departing ship. Despite the rough intro, she had been happy. The way she saw it, she was killing three birds with a singular stone.

One, it gave her an inlet to her four marks, as well as a strong bit of commonality. The perfect starting point to get closer to them.

Two, the job itself gave her something to do with her newfound freedom, as well as giving her a sweet, sweet schedule to follow.

Three, she would be paid for this job, giving her a bit of extra disposable income. She had plans for her apartment. Wondrous, multicolored, RGB-esque glowing plans.

In her relative (and forced by Grizzco time) haste, however, she had overlooked a few critical details in her improvised plan. The biggest flaw being, aside from the legal bindings she had woven around herself, was that she was a new hire, and as such, wasn't going to be put with the 'profreshionals' (that name was too stupid, who thinks this stuff up?)

Which in turn led to…

"You! Roller! Get in there, hold them back as best you can!" Rebecca shouted. She had forgotten that outside of the Agents, Inklings didn't have much formal weapons training, nor tactics and discipline. And when paired up with a bunch of untrained recruits on this job, her annoyance and fury gave way to legitimate fear. Despite her safety in both the job and the portable respawner on her back, the Salmonids swarming their worksite struck fear into her heart.

Her two coworkers (the third hadn't even shown up) were at the forefront, splattershot and roller desperately firing into the quickly growing crowd of Salmonid Cohocks. Rebecca herself was set up in one of the ancient structures, taking potshots at the more dangerous Salmonid beasts with her Charger, an E-Liter.

She felt a bit too similar to the Stranger for comfort. Was this what he was feeling like at the Dome?

She and two other new hires had been dropped off at one of the worksites, a dreary little venue called the 'Lost Outpost', a small island covered in dilapidated structures and caustic material, one soon instead covered in Salmonids. Power egg harvesting was, as she had noticed earlier, dirty work.

It was only through her barked orders and the determination of the couple that they were still alive. But not for long.

It all came crashing down when a Stinger's stingray beam lanced across the island, striking her in the head and splatting her instantly.

Frazzled.

So much for meeting their quota.

After many more shifts, Rebecca had finally called it a day.

Her performance had been… poor.

She wasn't used to failure. She had pulled in a good haul of power eggs, yes, but not without failure on the side. Their team hadn't exactly… met their quota on every shift. They were down a worker, yes, but they were still assigned on coffee runs!

There was much she still had to learn, apparently.

Even if this whole job was mostly to get closer to her marks, she still had her pride! Even if it was now a smarting pride, one with a burn on her left cheek. It hurt quite a bit, an issue she was currently trying to rectify.

Grizzco's Inkopolis Square office included a small little first aid station, one in which she was patching up her injuries. Burn cream, bandages, painkillers. and antibiotics were in liberal supply; not too surprising, considering the nature of this work. Mr. Grizz, for all his shrouded secrecy, did seem to take good care of his worker's health. Whether out of genuine compassion, wanting to avoid lawsuits, or some twisted combination of both, she had no idea; her enigmatic boss was impossible to read.

For now, she supposed it didn't matter as long as she didn't have to buy it herself.

Wincing, she dabbed her burns and cuts with antiseptic. Rebecca very much did not want to think about what pathogens bred in the tetanus-infested ruins called a worksite.

With that done, she reached for the bandages, but paused. Where was the medical tape? It wasn't as if these were self-stick bandages; those couldn't handle the size of her burns! She began rooting through the drawers of the station, searching for the vital adhesive.

In this search, she failed to notice someone walking into the little station.

"You looking for something?"

Rebecca jumped slightly, abruptly shoving shut the drawer she was looking through, banging her hand in the process. Hissing, she turned to see who it was, shaking her hand to dispel the pain. Upon seeing the figure, Rebecca paled slightly, and bit her tongue.

"Geez, didn't mean to scare you there. You alright?"

Luck and probability always had felt… improbable to her. As such, who else was it going to be other than Vista?

The Salmonid Squad, as she had taken to calling them, were enigmatic in general, especially considering that even as their youngest and oddest member, Vista was at least two years her senior. The agents hadn't given her any information about them, and her own meager digging hadn't unearthed much else. The Inklings were normal enough, but why was an Octoling hanging out with them? Was she a runaway, too?

Rebecca stumbled on her words, before falling silent, plotting.

… It was time to tug on the heartstrings, in a way that only siblings knew how to. She could work with this. She was far from an actor, but by Cod, she could work with this.

"Y-yeah, just looking for the medical tape." Rebecca timidly said, taking a step back. "I took a bit of beating out there today."

It was… a bit difficult to play the part of being shy, but judging by the concerned look growing over Vista's face, she had pulled it off.

"Oh, you poor thing." she tutted, "Are you still new to the job?" Vista passed by her, opening up the small mirror and pulling out a roll of tape, handing it to Rebecca. "There you go."

She nodded her thanks, beginning to bandage herself. Internally, she steeled her resolve yet again. Time to channel those tumultuous memories from the Dome…

"Yep." Rebecca said, a sad note entering her voice. "Just started today. Everything's just been overwhelming ever since I got here… you know what I mean?" She shot Vista a very pointed look, one that was quickly understood.

"Oh…" Vista said quietly. "New to the city then? It does take a while to get used to."

Rebecca took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she needed to say next. This was going to… be a bit demeaning, actually.

"I just… don't know what to do," Rebecca said, her voice choking up. "Everything is just so different now, and…" - a tear fell from one of her eyes, a feat she was rather proud of - "I just don't know who to talk to."

Before she had even finished her little act, Vista had already whipped out a small notepad and pen, writing down a phone number.

That's the ticket.

"In case you need support." Vista said, smiling. "Even just having someone who knows what it's like can help, y'know?"

"Y-yeah, I do." Rebecca smiled back. "Thank you."

Vista laid a hand on her shoulder, a thin, pained grin on her face. "Don't mention it."

And like that, she was gone from the booth, leaving Rebecca by her lonesome.

Score one for Team Rebecca.


Truly, there was no rest for the weary. After all, they were on borrowed time.

He and Sally had done one last, futile look around the lab, trying to find anything they had missed. It was more of an excuse to not venture back into the Metro than anything else. The pseudo girl had elected to go look through the break room for any food and drink they could take with them, while he went through the rest of the labs for documents, storage drives, and generally anything that looked useful.

Granted, the former two had zero use to him anymore, no thanks to his brain's unfortunate rewiring. Becoming utterly incapable of reading English sucked, to say the least.

Luckily, the few other things that turned up did have use, particularly an extra battery for his new las-rifle, as well as an actual proper flashlight instead of Sally's cheap plastic kiddie light. He didn't really like having to lug around and potentially use the las-rifle, though. The Shelter fight hadn't exactly done wonders for his already fragile psyche, and the idea of shredding somebody into little pieces like he did that corrupted Respawner earlier didn't really sit right with him.

But, the best defense was a good offense, or so the saying goes.

With what was down here, anything in his hands was better than nothing, too. Great Uncle's stories, for once, had actual merit. Whatever the hell happened down here… it terrified him.

Working for Polaris gave him an inside look into the technological peak of humanity, in the form of all manner of tech and equipment passed down from Kamabo to Borealis to them. From there, part of his job was ensuring that what they got in was safe enough to sell on the commercial market through shell companies, taking products like the ERA suit or MRX Watatsumi coilgun and marketing them to militaries, private companies, and even the odd rich civilian or two.

To know that this place - the Metro, as Sally had called it - was Kamabo in origin scared the shit out of him. Knowing what they were capable of, and applying 12,000 years of potentially unchecked and calamitous 'research' and 'development' to it…

It gave him a headache.

Sally's incessant questions didn't really help, either. Ever since he'd gained the ability to speak her language, the girl had been inundating him with questions about him, his species, his technology, and more. It'd given him a bit of insight into how much her people seemed to know about humanity, at least.

For the most part, the 'Inklings' were in the dark about humanity in general, only knowing the basics - they were an advanced civilization, their anatomy was vastly different, and… not much else, actually.

He had gathered as much, but it was good to have those suspicions confirmed. Still, they had replicated so much of human society, or at least some western styles, it was almost paradoxical. Unknowing of his kind, yet closely following in their footsteps.

The thought did little to assuage his fears about some of the things he'd seen (and shot at, more than once) as of late, though. Namely, Respawners. Devices that could cheat death.

Sally had asked him about it, wondering if his people had them. To that, well…

"Alright, so. One thing you should know is that humanity didn't create respawners, we're not like your species."

Sally blinked. "But… then… you didn't?" Her chain of logic was faltering here, most likely because she might've thought his kind had made them. Seeing that their society was reverse engineered from his own, their technology being subject to the same treatment wasn't entirely a shock to him.

"When we die, it's permanent. It's just like what happens when you die and there's no Respawner around; we're a one-and-done deal."

"So… What was one doing down here? In a human lab?" the girl asked, tilting her head at him.

"I don't know, and honestly that kinda scares me, kid. It clearly wasn't built by the last remaining scientists down here, and I doubt it was by your species either. So, who else could have done this?"

"...Oh."

That was the crux of the issue, and the one that utterly terrified him.

There was no species or civilization currently alive that could have replicated the tech he'd seen down here, especially when it came to the whole consciousness merger thing. Something down here was responsible, he figured. But who? What were they, why would they do this, and to what end?

And just what was the deal with that ink person? Were they involved? Were they the result of that Initiative thing? There were so many questions, and he only just barely had the answers to them.

Turning to Sally, he said as much. "I don't know who, or what made this place, and frankly, I'm worried. If they created this place, I don't want to know what else they might be planning." he finished, sighing. "This has been a nightmare…"

Sally fell silent for a long moment.

"We need to get out of here." she whispered. "I want to go home."

"Me too, kid. Me too."


In a god-forsaken corner of the Metro, isolated, an entirely different plot was forming.

"Is this… golden line really the only way through this place?"

Her guide, a humanoid liquid creature she'd taken to calling the Representative, nodded sadly. Despite their lack of a face, she could read them like an open book. Some sort of psychical, empathetic aura they were projecting, if she had to guess.

Yes, this sort of new age hipster wishy-washy crap existed, it was common knowledge to her, much to her chagrin. She knew of the Eurocom's experiments, and what they consequently entailed. The human gestalt psyche was a dangerous thing, and if the vague visions she'd received from the Representative amounted to anything, Kamabo had done the same thing.

She sighed to herself. "Fine. You'd better be right about this."

At least she wasn't alone down here, she supposed. Well, as much as the Representative constituted company.

The Stranger eyed the ink individual, were they… really what was left of Kamabo? Of humanity, beyond her? The thought brought a certain ache to her heart. Here she was, still flesh and blood, still alive, consciousness still perfectly intact and not merged with over twenty other Kamabo researchers in a fucked-up humanoid thing.

Aside from some serious internal damages from when she had been forcefully awoken from her twelve millennia long slumber, she was still in fighting condition. The Representative, on the other hand, barely managed to animate a singular body of their own. Despite the unified will of the scientists that made it up, actually making it work seemed to be a much greater problem.

It was an odd disconnect. At the end of the day, both of them were human at their core, yet so radically different. In her case, she was preserved through technology and desperation, while they'd undergone a transformation born in vile experimentation and necessary sacrifice. Both had transcended death, in a way.

And what of the blob? She wasn't aware of what kind of psychical matter was bonded with the monstrosity, nor what perverted processes had forced it into being. Was it a victim of circumstance? Something created as an unfortunate side effect of the creation of this horror show?

Down here, the world had devolved into an out-of-control clusterfuck, and she was the only pure thing in this place that wasn't as screwed as the rest of it. No matter how she viewed the issue, no matter what philosophical lens she used, she really was the only true human left.

She really had no other options here, though.

And as such, she followed warily behind the Representative.

The Stranger felt on edge, a metaphorical blade to her emotions.

Vaguely, it reminded her of a specific fabrication she had been a part of; the team she had been joined with had once sharpened a regular kitchen knife, like the one she carried on her side to a monomolecular point, just to see if they could. It cut between the very atoms of one of their break room bonsai trees, effortlessly rending the wood, but dulled the blade to uselessness after a single strike. Despite being difficult to produce, dangerous, and unfathomably delicate, the knife had been an admittedly fun project.

Impractical, yes, but a fun novelty.

This place gave off a similar air to that experiment, she had come to realize. Not from her perspective within the damned maze, but from an omnipotent gaze, it was all too clear. Difficult to produce, dangerous, and made for no real, truly practical purpose.

Breaking from her thoughts for a moment, she looked up to the Representative, who was still guiding her. They too seemed uneasy, a whispering of various dissenting voices emanating from the figure. Almost imperceptibly, she could feel their pace increase. Was something following them?

Shoving her uneasy feelings down, she retreated back into her thoughts.

Once, Kamabo had sent them a combat knife made of 'phase-hardened' carbon steel, an absurdly durable alloy forged through unknown means. How the 'purely theoretical' divisions of Kamabo had done so was beyond her, but as recent events had indicated, they must have had fabrication methods of their own. At the time, they had assumed third-party metallurgists had been commissioned, but had that really been the case?

Regardless, it had proven all but impossible to sharpen the edge beyond its initial form. The task was theoretically possible, yes, but not with their tools, nor the number of unknowns involved in the metal's creation. It was almost alien to work with, like it had been forged by something other than human hands and minds.

This subterranean nightmare followed a similar pattern. An impressive prototype, brought to life by Kamabo's blend of genius and insanity, but unmodifiable with the current technology they possessed. At the same time, however, according to the Representative this place wasn't created directly by Kamabo, but by something (or someone?) deeper within.

Again, what? Who? Why did the Representative want them gone?

She had been racking her brain for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of it all. Yet, no foothold of rationality could be found.

If nothing else, it did keep her mind occupied, a double edged sword down in this darkness. It staved off the madness of isolation, yes, but on the other hand, it kept her dead to her surroundings. As such, she had failed to notice as the Representative grew more and more anxious, while she pushed away the growing, unnatural anxiety welling up within her.

It couldn't be ignored any longer.

The Representative grasped her wrist, forcibly wiping her thoughts away, all to be replaced with a single image. A warning.

A sign, flashing LEDs illuminating it.

STOP

A veritable payload of emotions accompanied the warning, providing the rest of the context. Primal, creeping fear, genuine and all-consuming, all from one source; permanent, the second death, soul-rending.

The Blob was near.

Her heart nearly stopped, legs spasming for a moment. Despite this, her legs found footing, brimming with adrenaline-fueled determination.

Already, she could feel a few drops of vile ink fall on her helmet, fizzling into nothing. Drops that fell on the Representative were simply absorbed, albeit with some distress. Looking up confirmed her own fears; the Blob was seeping through the ceiling, already pooling into a small, inverted lake.

Her perception of time slowed, mind pushing conscious thought to the backburner.

She ran, legs pushing her to a full sprint in a moment, just as the mass of ink coalesced like an icicle. In the next moment, it fell to the ground, splashing like a massive teardrop. She barely made it away from the central mass, but despite this, the splash hit her back and legs, clinging tenaciously to the material covering her flesh.

Her emotions slipped on the edge, directly onto the atomic point of the experimental knife from so long ago. The psychical stress would have driven her mad, save for her helmet, and her consciousness having given up control for the moment.

The Representative, on the other hand, fared poorly. Their slow, malleable body wasn't as quick as her own, and despite their prescience on the threat, they just weren't quick enough to evade. Their form was splashed by the ink, automatically absorbing it, a psychic scream ringing in her mind. On instinct, she turned back, and with a monumental heave, pulled their bloated body out of the mass.

She tried to support the Representative's body, but they were too heavy for her exhausted form. At the encroaching tide of the Blob's ink, she pulled out her pistol, and in a panic, shot three powerful blasts of plasma into the ink. Each flash evaporated much of the ink, but more kept flowing in.

A vision of a prison break. An opportunity, taken.

Run.

Her nerve broke.

She turned and ran, heavy footfalls tearing down the hallway. Ran even as the Representative failed to keep up, even as the Representative's body tripped and fell in the Blob's ink. Ran as the Representative's body was absorbed by the Blob, their crescendoing shriek abruptly cut off.

Ran, mindlessly, eyes racing faster than her comprehension, her body minutely twisting every so way to avoid various anomalies, their almost imperceptible shimmering clear as day to her. An otherworldly prescience gripped her form, guiding her flight.

Even at her speed, the Blob clipped at her heels, illuminating her back in its ghastly green glow. There was no way she could keep up her speed and fire her weapon at the Blob, it would cause her to slow down, then die.

Despite this, the steel in her soul refused to bend. She would not die.

She. Would. Not. Bend.


"Well, that looks like everything, kid." the Spook said, a note of finality in his tone.

Sally took one last look around the lab they were in; it had been ransacked and turned upside down, a veritable mess that put its initial trashy space to shame. She felt a tad bad about it, considering she had always been a believer in leaving a place nicer than when you had arrived, but she didn't particularly care about setting everything straight.

While still safe, the space now made her incredibly uncomfortable, having seen the dark secrets its walls hid. And if what the Spook had been speaking of was true, the lab itself was the site of an incredible atrocity. She would never look at a respawner the same way ever again. How could something so useful be used for something so… evil?

For now, it didn't particularly matter. One way or another, they needed to escape.

Her own backpack was bulging with papers and anything else that looked interesting, the Spook's as well. They were ready to leave, and she could feel it.

As much as she was loathe to leave this safety, there was a kind of excitement she had. It would be good to be back on the road to the surface, and perhaps even squeeze some answers out of the Spook about his species. She was practically dying with curiosity, even if she had no idea of what questions to ask.

But with nothing else to do, she had joined the Spook at the lab entrance, clutching her Splattershot per his nervous request. His own laser gun in hand, he nodded to her, before easing open the laboratory door back into the maintenance room the two had built a fire in earlier.

Dried, green ink stuck to every possible surface, smelling like death and decay. It was almost unrecognizable. Carefully, he passed through the threshold, herself one step behind.

"We were way too lucky…" she heard the Spook mutter under his breath. She had to agree; were it not for finding the lab door, they would have been goners. The dried ink was safe to walk on, thankfully, but still felt all sorts of wrong to her, especially considering how ink dissolved, not dried. The Spook didn't seem to mind.

It struck a kind of fear in her, one that blew away whatever confidence she had accrued, "M-maybe we should wait a bit longer?"

The Spook, no longer wearing his mask, scoffed. "You could, but-"

"What?"

"...we don't really have that option anymore."

Sally followed his gaze; true to his words, all that greeted her was a blank wall, thoroughly covered by the ink. If it wasn't for the past few hours still being fresh in her mind, she would've guessed a door had never existed there in the first place.

There really was no going back now.

"Well, that's only mildly terrifying." he muttered, a dark chuckle behind the words. Despite the situation, a thin, stressed smile was stretched across his lips. A tad off-putting, Sally had to admit, but the sight of a friendly face did make her feel better.

She nodded, swallowing hard, "Yeah… I guess there's no turning back. Do we just… continue wandering then?"

With the new laser gun the Spook had, as well as Sally's own Splattershot Jr, they could at least put up some kind of defense as they went… wherever they went. Sure, she was concerned by how nebulous the whole thing was, but on the other hand, the weight of leadership was off of her shoulders. He was the adult in the situation, and he would know what to do, right?

"Yeah." he replied, reaching for the handle on the maintenance door. "I'll be honest, I've got no clue what we'll find out there. If it's any consolation, at least we've got twice as many guns to fight things with than before, yeah?"

or not. Adult or not, the Metro trumped them all.

The Spook paused, noticing her nonplussed reaction. He gave her another weak, tired smile. "You gotta have some faith, kid."

"I guess…" Sally mumbled in response. His words had done little to reassure her, but she didn't quite want to voice that thought. If the Spook noticed, he didn't show it.

Without any theatrics, he pushed the maintenance door open, dried ink flaking off of the hinges and frame.

"Back into Hell we go…" Sally heard him mumble to himself.

Back into Hell indeed, she thought to herself.

Ever so subtly, the Metro had changed, Sally could feel it in her bones. A different aura suffused the space, one that felt… less oppressive, although she felt a heightened tension, one that hadn't existed before.

The two had been walking in silence for what felt like hours now, senses tuned to find any oncoming danger. Danger which simply failed to manifest; the Metro had gone quiet. Few anomalies, no monsters, just… them.

To stay on the safe side, they were sticking to the maintenance tunnels snaking through the Metro, rather than the larger subway tunnels. Despite that, a certain kind of nameless terror was growing in her heart, gnawing away at her. Despite the lack of anomalies, the few that did exist in here were… she wasn't sure how, but they gave her a headache from just being around them.

"Y'know, I figured we would've run into something by now…" Sally heard the Spook say, more to himself than anyone else. His bright green eyes peered nervously down the tunnel, a type of fear that almost felt unnatural on his frame.

"Same." she replied, more as a knee-jerk reaction than anything else. Her nerves were wearing thin, too.

"Yeaaaah." he muttered, not looking back to her, "I imagined that there would be a bit more…?" He waved an ineffectual hand, trying to find the right word.

Sally filled him in, "Danger?"

He shrugged. "I suppose? Maybe I'm just getting jaded, but something doesn't sit right with me. I know we're being watched, but… there's something else, I swear. Just… be ready to run, just in case. This is too easy…"

Be ready to run. There was the fear, again.

Shaking his head, he nervously checked his laser gun. "If that ink guy comes back…"

Sally heard him mutter something after that under his breath, something that sounded rather explicit. And why did he say jaded? Just what had he been through?

Sally swallowed, mouth dry. She just wanted to brush it off, but at the same time, just what was going on with him? There had been an… incident at some remote mountain facility, one recently unearthed and believed to be of human make. Her dad had been scarce about the details, but there had been plenty of destruction. He was a human, and judging by his little stunt with the Respawner back there, he certainly had the capacity to destroy.

Could he have…?

"What do you mean by 'jaded,' exactly?" she tried, a nervous tic of hers trying to fill the silence.

At her question, the Spook stopped for a moment, breath hitching.

"You… you good?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." he said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Just… I really am a jaded bast- guy, aren't I?"

Before she could respond, he continued, shrugging, "I guess… I haven't had an easy week or two."

It was a vague statement at best.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's…" he appeared conflicted for a moment, before muttering an expletive under his breath. He looked her right in the eyes. "Kid, what I tell you, you can't tell anyone else."

She nodded.

"Alright, perfect. It's… it's been a long week." he paused, sucking in a breath. "Christ, only a week, it's felt like a lot longer since I woke up."

At her questioning glance, he hastily added, "A-A Cryostasis facility under the sea, don't ask how it works."

A… cryostasis facility? Under the sea? What the shell?

It sounded like something straight out of a science fiction movie, yet clearly, it worked. After all, the Spook was made of flesh, blood, and questionable sanity. How would that even work?

"It was after waking up and leaving did everything go to shit. I botched first contact, scared a few teenagers, a-assaulted someone and… Nothing went well, to say the least. After that, I don't know how I ended up here, I just… fell down."

Botched first contact, he says. Could he be talking about the mountain facility? That certainly was a 'botched first contact,' if a human was involved, but the rest? It just didn't add up. She was almost… well, scared to ask if it had been him at the facility. So, she settled on a more innocuous question.

"What happened before you fell down here, then?"

"Nothing!" he all but shouted, hands clenched into fists. Just as quickly as the outburst came, it disappeared. "Just… nothing. Look, I've… It's been rough, kid."

Sally slowly nodded. "I-I see? I'm… sorry to hear about that."

"Thanks." he said, shrugging. "Enough about me, though. Why are you down here?"

Sally stopped in her tracks, if only for a moment. Admittedly, it was a touchy subject for her, one that was personal, and did she really want to confide in him?

…well, he did share his story. She may as well share hers, then.

"On my end, I came down here looking for something, something for my dad." she admitted, sighing. "He was an… anthropologist, as he called it."

"...you're saying he's somebody who studies humans?" the Spook asked, incredulous. "Or am I missing something?"

"No, you're right, he's a human researcher." she answered. How he knew the term, she wasn't going to question. "He was always really fascinated with your kind."

Sally watched a variety of emotions cross the Spook's face at the revelation.

That was a thought, actually. The guy had most likely seen the extinction of his species, only to wake up an awfully long time later to this new age. Sally had, at times, been curious about what the so-called 'ancestors' would have thought about her world, but what about the emotions behind those thoughts, never mind the culture shock? And how would they feel about the fact that his kind had been reduced to little but stories and barely-translated research materials?

He didn't say anything, so she continued.

"So yeah, he did that, got me interested too." she said, carefully. "There wasn't too much to go off of. That was, until the attack."

"Attack?" the Spook questioned, a kind of desperation in his eyes. "...what's that supposed to mean?"

"It was… maybe two years ago? Some kinda statue rose from the water, it was all hush hush by the government. My dad thought it was some sort of attack, something related to humanity, he kept saying. He swore the statue was made by you guys."

"A… statue?"

His tone betrayed a sense of incredulity. Not that she blamed him, per say. On the other hand, did it not exonerate his kind of their involvement in it? If it was his species' fault, then maybe he would've been the one who knew about it? He was the only one here now, after all.

"Regardless," Sally continued, "that particular research paper didn't sit with the rest of the anthropology community. Dad got his funding cut and got himself made into the laughing-stock of the entire field, which… well, made me want to investigate a bit, to clear his name. So… here I am. I went to the statue, and like you said… fell down."

It felt stupid to have spilled her guts to a relative stranger, yet also, talking to someone about it made her feel a bit better. If nothing else, it had cleared the air between them, if only partially.

"Damn… Sorry to hear about that, kid." the Spook finally said. "Maybe once we're out of here, I could talk to him? See if that helps his case at all?"

Sally responded after a long moment.

"That would be nice."

The two again lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence. There wasn't much else Sally wanted to talk about, truthfully, especially with just how vulnerable she felt right now. Somehow, she knew the Spook felt the same way.

But still, why did she feel so… uncomfortable, still? Not from him, but… there was something else, something that was dancing on the edge of her consciousness. A kind of whispering lullaby, one that made her eyes droop.

…since when did the walls have stuff growing out of them?

Not more of that weird glowing ink, no - plants. Actual plants.

As they walked, the hallway became more and more overgrown, with all manner of leaves and vines snaking through the concrete of the maintenance tunnel. Sally saw the Spook's grip on his gun change, shakily bringing it into a ready stance of sorts.

"Whatever this is, it sure as hell isn't the exit…" she heard him mumble, as they turned a corner to see a rusted door at the end of the overgrown hall. A dim purple glow radiated out from the gap between the door and the wall, the plant life seemingly having slightly pushed the door open a bit.

The closer she got to the door, the louder that 'lullaby' in her ears became.

"You hear that too, right Spook?" she asked, timidly.

"Yeah, and I don't like it."

They'd made it up to the door, the Spook taking up a position on the side of the door that was pushed ajar. From where Sally was standing, she couldn't see much but the man's face, dimly lit by the purple light of the room beyond. She watched as his eyes flickered about, no doubt studying something beyond the door.

"What do you see?"

"Looks like some kind of forest… I can see a bunch of plants and stuff, even some trees."

A forest? Down here? Wasn't the Metro… y'know… underground?

"Yeah. That's what's got me concerned, here." Oh. She thought out loud again.

A moment passed, the Spook seemingly lost in thought, before he acted. A hand wedged itself into the gap, the man trying to wrench the door open with one hand while having his laser gun at the ready in the other.

"Stand back a bit, kid. I got this." he said. She took a few steps back, making sure her Splattershot was ready for action just in case.

With some exertion on his part, the rusty door was pushed open and aside, a dimly lit forest making itself apparent on the other side. Distantly, she heard the Spook mutter something along the lines of 'yeah, I don't like this,' before he stepped through, laser gun at the ready.

Slowly, she followed behind, that strange lullaby still reverberating through her head.

All around them was a very convincing looking forest, seemingly contained within the Metro. She couldn't see the ceiling of the room they were in, the 'sky' being some sort of glowing purple fog that hid the walls and bathed the room in that same dull purple.

The floor was dirt, leaves and branches and such from the trees and bushes above and around littering the place. Ahead, she… she noticed a clearing. A log, tipped on its side.

A log that looked mighty appealing as some kind of bed… wait… what?

Since when… since when did she get so tired…?

The air was shimmering all around them. Some kind of… anomaly… perhaps? They really should've turned around. Not…

Just barely, beyond the fog of her mind, she noticed the Spook slump to his knees.

"We made a mistake, coming here…" he murmured. "Anomaly. We're… we're…" Down he went. Unconscious. Great.

Sally wasn't too far behind, she figured, as she… as she staggered over to the log, dropping down next to it.

Cod. She needed a nap…

That lullaby, where… Where did she hear it before?

zzz…


The human body is a miraculous piece of work, an incredibly complex engineering feat borne of natural design.

Unfortunately, even this biology has its limits.

Once in the Stranger's youth, specifically in high school biology, she'd watched an educational video about the liver and its myriad of functions. An organ the size of a small football, it was tasked with the synthesis of various substances, such as bile, and of course, the filtration of blood.

In that same video, a group of engineers had shown an advanced filtration machine that sat on a small table. This machine performed the same functions as the liver, perhaps even better, but compacting it down to be the same size as the liver would have been quite the feat.

Despite the video being horrendously dated, it had always stuck with her. Biological design of the human body was something else entirely, something that couldn't be replaced by even the cutting edge technology Kamabo produced. So she thought, at least. It wouldn't surprise her if they had some kind of biological prototype, at least. The red tape surrounding their classified projects was something else entirely.

Every part of the body possessed a function, all aimed to keep itself alive whatever the cost, whether physical or psychological. Almost every compulsion and emotion existed for a reason, after all. Fear and disgust were agents of self-preservation, concepts like pride and shame helped one exist in a community, and terror?

Terror was what kept people alive, in times of distress. Mindless terror that pushed every other thought and emotion onto the backburner.

It was truly unfortunate for the Stranger, then, that she couldn't quite appreciate the adrenaline pumping through her veins, keeping her ahead of the Blob. But even then, it alone couldn't save her.

Adrenaline itself is a last resort measure, a short-term boost that has nothing to counter it. It's a fight or flight response, one aimed at keeping the body alive.

Adrenaline itself doesn't block pain, either; rather, it tricks the mind into blocking it out temporarily, a phenomenon that can mask one's injuries until it wears off.

Unfortunately, adrenaline itself is quite hard on the body, and is far from the miracle reaction that is believed by many. For instance, adrenaline can't create energy from nowhere; it still has to draw from a source. Despite all the fear and motivation in the world, the body still has its limits, and they exist for good reason.

Much like how human muscles can tear off the bone if exerted to its full potential, there are very real limits to overexertion. Muscles acquire the energy they need through metabolic pathways, some anaerobic (without oxygen) and others aerobic (with oxygen.) To maintain the energy needed for a sprint, the muscles start by burning their stored energy, which is the easiest source to break down via aerobic processes.

For the average individual, these stores last for roughly seven seconds at a full sprint.

The StrangerEmily, a somewhat average individual (physically), had been running for far longer.

Once these stores have been exhausted, the muscles have to siphon their energy from the bloodstream and other parts of the body, such as the liver, which is very difficult to perform. As a consequence, energy production begins to slow down, making the speeds somebody like the Stranger was achieving much harder to maintain.

The Blob was gaining on her.

As oxygen becomes a bottleneck in aerobic energy breakdown, anaerobic processes kick into gear, breaking down carbohydrates into energy without the need for oxygen. This process creates plenty of lactic acid, however, which causes the muscle to feel as if it is burning.

Once all other sources of energy are spent, the body begins cannibalizing the energy stored in fat, a very difficult process with a few nasty physical symptoms.

At the current moment, the Stranger was at this last, desperate step. She was gasping for air, all her limbs feeling like rubber, a searing stitch in her side, and her legs on fire. Despite the overwhelming fear of the monster behind her, her body has begun to hit its hard limits.

She was going to die, her soul torn out and added to the psychic monstrosity behind her.

Biology couldn't save her, and she was about to be subsumed by the one thing that made the body truly a miracle. Souls.

In her frantic pace, over the course of a minute she had managed to free her pistol from its trappings on the side of her leg. With bleary and inaccurate aim, she popped off a shot over her shoulder, the bright flash of plasma almost blinding her, despite her helmet's protective lenses.

The shot itself flew wide, creating a burning patch of stone, one that the Blob easily avoided.

She fired, again, again, again.

Only one hit true, stunning the Blob for just a moment.

But, a moment was all that she needed.

Whirling around, gun held up in a shaky grip, the Stranger fired at the mass. Plasma tore through the air, each round squarely impacting the Blob. She kept firing, until her current cartridge dried up.

Down another cartridge. Nine left.

Despite the punishment it had endured, the Blob was still moving forward, albeit at a snail's pace. It wouldn't stay like that for long. Were it not for her helmet, and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, the screaming would have driven her mad. Despite the agonizing pain her body was in, she forced herself back into a hobbled run, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the blob.

She had managed to get about one hundred meters away before more vile ink poured from the wall, rejuvenating the blob back to its original state. But, it was far enough away.

The Stranger spied a heavy metal handle sticking out of the wall, the kind that sealed the maintenance tunnels of the Metro. With a monumental heave around the handle, nearly tearing her arm's muscles, she forced the door open, slamming it behind her as she entered. It would slow down the Blob for now, she knew; it could only seep through the door, after all.

Regardless, she needed to keep moving. However, she did allow herself to slow to a brisk walk, massaging her side and wheezing all the while.

But, as she continued onward, she could feel her body sagging downward, desperate to collapse and recuperate. It was only her iron will that kept her staggering forward. Mind over matter, but even that concept possessed its limits.

The strain was getting to her.

On a blessed note, a thought her delirious mind could barely wrap its grip around, the Blob had ceased chasing her. She hadn't gone too far, and yet, the glow had vanished entirely. The mental presence, on the other hand… hadn't, exactly. She swore she was still being watched by… something, but, aside from the occasional shimmer of an errant, unknown anomaly, there was nothing else here.

Something was off, this was too easy. This place, was never 'too easy'.

Still, as the minutes dragged on, no boogeyman popped out to snatch her, no geyser of fire flew out of the air to incinerate her. Only her paranoia and stress grew, almost unnaturally so, like a knife pressed up against her throat. It was… safe, yes, but her internal alarms were blaring, something was very wrong in here, something her subconscious screamed, but why!?

This felt familiar, somehow, like a line out of a dense packet of documents.

A veritable war, between the edge of reality and unconsciousness. A battle she was slowly losing. And yet, she persisted. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, and yet, she would not bend. Despite her drive to keep moving, to stay alive, her body had finally begun to betray her. A pounding headache had grown behind her eyes, her muscles feeling like the jam in her mother's fridge.

Her thoughts grew more fluid, melting from a rational solid to a more free liquid. Bits of information flew through her mind like birds, finally free from their cage. Warped. Finally free.

Psychical anomalies, the words whispered. How had she made it this far around them?

Her helmet, a lucid thought whispered; her own consciousness? Blocking them out.

She was… in too deep now. Needed to keep moving.

Sheer will, undiluted, forced her body past its breaking point, breaking through the hallucinations. Breaking through reality. She could barely see, eyes squinted as if glaring into sunlight.

Sunlight, when would she see sunlight again?

Persist. She had to persist.

Keep walking. Keep walking!

Her shambling movement had slowed to a crawl, her mind barely registering where she was going.

Since when did she end up in a forest?

Staggering through bushes and tree limbs alike, she entered some kind of clearing, a dull purple glow emanating through the space.

This was… this wasn't real, was it? Some kind of anomaly?

The thing her leg collided with was certainly real though, pain lancing through her already strained beyond belief leg as she toppled over.

Tripped? Tripped!

Her head hit the dirt, the blow softened by her helmet. Her limbs were like lead, finally rebelling, finally refusing her tight command. In a final effort, she lifted her head, trying to get her bearings.

Only to see a face to her side. The face of a human, worn out and tired, having been through hell.

The emotional shock, despite her deadened state, was enough to put a crack in her will.

The thoughts she had chained up rose up, exploded, screaming, attacking.

Overloading her consciousness.

Forcing her down.

She had to get up. Get up! Up! UP!

Had to. Had to…

Her eyes drooped, threatening to shut themselves.

Not here. Not here! Not now!

Not…

Here.

His face, the last figment of her consciousness pondered, where had she seen it before?


/ REWRITE A/N: /

Falk here. Things are about to get wacky.

It was around this point in the original version of this arc that the Metro arc began to get weird, to say the least. To also say the least, because I've been being destroyed by finals and have written enough word salad for the rest of the year, I'll say what I said last chapter: things are getting simplified.

Hopefully this new word salad is much more coherent than what it was before, and I hope you stick around to finish this arc out. I know I sound miserable right now, but life's a bitch. Luckily, we're past halfway, and you've got 4 chapters to go. Godspeed.

As usual, I'm gonna turn it back over to 2022 Piston to see what he's got to say. Take care, and have a nice day.

/ ORIGINAL A/N: /

Another chapter out of the way.

It's only been a little over a month since the last chapter, but it sure felt much longer. Amazing how that works, eh? Regardless, we're doubling down on the insanity now. Plenty of work went into this, with plenty of help from some new folks, Specifically with editing the draft to actually be readable. Specifically, Falken and an individual on the Discord called SpoopyTheScout. Thank you both for the help!

In other news, I've been working with Falken on getting little bits of chapter art, to add a visual element to the story. They're all amazing, and there should be one per chapter now, including already uploaded ones. I recommend you skim through the earlier chapters and try to find them, they're very cool!

That should be everything for now, thank you for reading and reviewing, and see you next time!

As always, we have a discord, the invite code being: qCMxkGzzBg