Chapter Text
There is something to be said for running life by your own standards. Now, it’s one thing to disobey authority. It’s another to realize that… maybe there is no “authority.” Maybe no one deserves to be in charge of everyone else, because we’re all just specks of dust running around on a little planet.
That, of course, is what you told yourself every trudging step through a little government owned facility called… prison. Sure, you were reckless at times. But that made you fun, that made you… ehm… special. Just because the cost and repercussions of your behavior hadn’t always reached your brain all the way didn’t mean you deserved to be here. That is also something you told yourself, even with the secretive glares and pissy attitude always directed at you. You would look yourself dead in the eyes through the grimy, busted up mirror in the public prison restroom, and convince yourself that you were a survivor. If you had managed to get through every misfortune to occur in such a place as prison, that must mean you’ve survived the worst of the worst.
But a little voice, seemingly hesitant, whispered in the back of your mind and made your neck tingle with every word. Am I really a survivor? This voice became clearer, ringing like the echo of a bell as you were informed of your arrival on Death Row during your third post-conviction relief hearing. No such mischief you could have accomplished before prison ever made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach like it did then.
Why is it, that only now they were deciding you were fit for Death Row? Well, shortly thereafter, it had been proved by quite a few lawyers present in the hearing that you had been found guilty of several counts of third-degree murder. It wasn’t only the fact that you had been framed for such acts, but that everyone in the room seemed to be on the same page except for you. Everyone had decided for themselves that you indeed deserved a penalty of death. EVERYONE thought… because third-degree murder meant that you would have had no intention or reason to kill, these murders resulted from your reckless behavior.
How… predictable. Honestly, you should have seen it coming. How could anyone not blame such a little ball of mischief after all? Evidence or not, you were sentenced to death and given one last day to relish in the overwhelming feelings as you were placed in a holding cell. It was quite a difference from the more open feeling of your original cell, as this one did not have the fourth wall made entirely of iron bars. It almost felt like it was meant to trap any anger or negative feelings a prisoner might have towards the crafters of their demise.
And yet… all you could think of was how much you missed the ocean. Truly a random thought to appear so suddenly in the depths of your mind, but you couldn’t help closing your eyes and imagining you were there. Your leg tangled in a strip of seaweed that brushed in from the tide. The cold embrace of water wrapping around your feet and leaving residues of seafoam against your ankles like a tan line. Maybe this was your version of your life flashing before your eyes. The good parts, at least.
You had begun to declare yourself dead in your mind as you were guided out from the holding cell and led to a steel chair in the middle of a blank room. It reminded you of a hospital room’s empty walls and grease-patterned floor. The blaring lights overhead definitely complimented that demeanor.
You snapped back out of your trance when another steel chair was set ungracefully across from you. You attempted to pay attention as a man sat in it, leaning forward with his elbows pressed against his knees. However, the thoughts of your upcoming death disrupted it now and again.
“Hey, are you listening?” The man asked, snapping his fingers once in front of your eyes. You blinked at him and leaned away slightly with cautious eyes trained on his movements. Frankly, he looked tired. He had the kind of face you expected to have when you kicked the bucket.
“I thought this was my death trial. I don’t believe there to be much talking, am I right?” You muttered the last part under your breath, but voiced it loud enough for the man to hear. He only rubbed his eyes tiredly in response.
“Think of it… as more of an interrogation, yeah?”
“Interrogation? Could’ve saved me some trouble if we’d done this, y’know, before I was sentenced to death,” You spat. “What kind of interrogation happens after I’ve been found guilty?”
“...Fine, don’t think of it as an interrogation then.” The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His head tilted back and his eyes stared in thought at the ceiling as a sigh escaped his mouth. “I’ll just beat around the bush and call it like it is. I’m here to offer you a compromise. Alternative to the promise of a quick death.”
“What, like you’re offering me a slow death? Pass.”
“Can you listen for one second?” The man asked with a raised voice, dropping his head down from his gaze at the ceiling to face you again. “I work with an undercover company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”
“No-”
“Good. Because it is highly confidential. Even so much as telling you the name could have put you right back onto Death Row, had I not come to you with an offer.” The man leaned over his knees and seemed to stare directly into your soul. You weren’t uncomfortable with much, but this definitely started to make the back of your neck tingle. You laughed at his comment, however, whether it was out of nerves or actual humor, you didn’t quite know. This man just stared at you with his exhausted gaze and waited with strained eyebrows for your laughing to cease.
“Hah… hah… You’re not lying, are you?” You realized aloud with a pained expression. The man only sighed in response and stared at the musty floor with a blank face.
“Listen, I’m all for leaving you to your awaited death if you won’t bother setting aside your attitude for a minute and hearing me out. There are plenty of others who would take my offer at the drop of a dime.”
“Well I have yet to hear this golden offer,” You piped up, but quickly settled back down when his dark eyes glared at you directly. “Right… Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Urbanshade is a company that runs a place called the Hadal Blacksite. It’s a division set on experiments regarding the creatures of the deep sea. It is located roughly 73,985 studs below sea level, and you would need to take a submarine to even get there.” The man stood from his seat and paced around the steel chair. You looked up and watched him circle the chair aimlessly as you actually listened.
“There are only two main directives set on you if you decide to take this offer. You would have to secure an asset called Z-2; a crystal. As well as… loose assets.”
“‘Loose assets?’” You repeat.
“Files, documents… the holy trinity of confidentiality left scattered inside the Blacksite. See, the whole area is on lockdown at the moment, which is why you are needed. Thanks to some failed experiment…” The man grumbled. You didn’t quite catch that last part, but you weren’t about to interrupt this man for the fourth time.
“Anyhow, if you would obtain Z-2 and maybe even some loose assets while you’re at it, you could earn your freedom. And I’m not talking about going back to that cell and really only escaping Death Row. I’m talking about leaving prison and having that recent trial of yours scrapped from your record permanently.” The man stopped his pacing and gave your eyes a break as they trained on his still figure. “Do we have a deal? Or do you need time to think it over? The most I can give you is a day.”
His words broke you. Well, most of them at least. You didn’t even think it was possible to escape something like Death Row. Maybe you were a survivor after all? Then of course you had to take his offer; you weren’t stupid. The man’s outstretched hand was aiming to fall limp again at his side from your hesitancy, but you quickly grasped it in your own and shook it firmly. Your eyes met his with a determination you didn’t realize you still had as you whispered, “Deal.”
And what a deal it was.