Chapter Text
The sound of the large metal doors whirring to life, slowly opening to show a large lobby of people, criminals, is nothing compared to the sound of your own heartbeat beating against your chest. The area is heavily guarded, with a guard standing post at every possible door, window, or other opening, unmoving. It’s bigger than you expected, but you aren’t terribly surprised. These people—criminals—wander around, some partaking in conversation, some filling inside the submarines that lie quiet in the water, others typing away at tablets that look similar to the one you received, and some looking at the new haul of fellow inmates gathering to partake in this life-threatening expedition. You don’t bother to try to remember any faces or define special features. These are people who are expected to die, just like you.
They are expendable. You are expendable. Urbanshade has made that quite clear.
Your name, your past life, your current life… It’s all meaningless.
That is to say, if you were actually like the rest of these people here. In some ways, yes, you are. However, there’s one key thing that makes you different from the rest. They are here for some supercharged crystal.
You are here for information.
Stepping into the crowded lobby, taking in your surroundings as best as you can, you wonder just what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into. The sound of submarines submerging into the water, sirens notifying their departure, is one of the first things you notice. Some criminals go in alone, others in groups of two or three. The area is relatively big, but you notice that everyone huddles closer together with a few stragglers. It’s rather damp, the water in the area making the air cold and wet. You debate whether you want to try to spark a conversation with a nearby group or see if you can try to join a group on their departure, so you can gather any type of intel. However, you think otherwise, figuring that they would slow you down or leave you behind. You know that once you go down there, you might never come back. This was a risky operation. More risky than you initially thought. Taking a seat on one of the empty benches, you decide to give yourself a mental recap on why you are here, so maybe hype yourself up. Why your reason for agreeing to this mission was different from everyone else's.
Just as you were getting ready for bed, your computer pinged a message from your work email. The late-night air was seeping through the bedroom window, bleeding behind the blackout curtains, with the bed begging you to join it. There was some temptation at first to ignore it, but curiosity always won in the end. A quick read wouldn’t hurt; it wasn’t like you needed to answer right away, as you were off your self-proclaimed clock. Skimming through, the first thing you noticed was that it was addressed to a fake name you used recently. The second thing you noticed was that the sender was a big-name company you’ve heard many times before. Innovation Inc. was a corporation that’s been thrown around in your line of work before, albeit never directly.
The basics of the email consisted of simple facts on how they found you and what they know about you, which wasn’t a lot, thankfully. That means you did your cover-ups well. The next choice of words is what catches your eye.
We ask for your assistance in infiltrating a rival company that’s been rumored to be involved in many different allegations. The biggest being human experimentation.
You’re skeptical for a moment, but continue on.
Urbanshade, as of late, has been slipping in many ways other than reputation. Innovation Inc. is very aware of how easily rumors can be created and spread; however, the following document provides us with some basic elements that might be much more than just rumors.
Opening the document, you find statements of criminals sent to death row supposedly going missing, and checks signed off on by Urbanshade given to a variety of prisons. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together; however, this alone wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. There is no definitive proof that these two instances are related, with the addition of how much money can make a person (or a court, in this case) turn a blind eye. Urbanshade makes a lot of money with the “progressive” weapons and military supplies they sell and from the lesser-known underground deals they make with fellow corporations and rich CEOs.
We request that you infiltrate Urbanshade and collect any data we can use against them, shutting them down quickly and effectively. There will be a hefty reward provided.
The number of zeros provided makes you do a double-take, almost frying your brain. You could retire early and be set for life if you do this. Hell, your children and grandchildren might not have to work a day in their lives with this type of money. You don’t have any children, but the fact still stands: you’d be stacked. The money you make now holds you steady, comfortable even, but greed is a sin you partake in often. It’s why you started this self-proclaimed business in the first place.
The best way to put it is you are an intelligence agent, a spy, one would say. However, you’re not recognized by any official government, but you sure made one hell of a name for yourself in the underground. Your methods of getting information are a grey area at best, murderous at worst, never killing without reason, and avoiding it as best you can. You avoid any kind of violence if you can help it; however, you learned very quickly that violence is the only way out of certain situations.
Getting off track, you respond to their email. It's sloppy, and there are an embarrassing number of grammatical errors, but you don’t seem to care as much as you should. You can save all of the professionalism for when you discuss details in person. The briefing was short; most of it wasn’t worth remembering. You remember anyway. You have an excellent memory. Photographic, to give it a name, but you make sure to only linger on the important details. So little to begin with, most of it being rumors, theories, and guesses.
All you know for certain is that you’ll be taken to a secluded area underwater, communication with anyone outside is restricted, and there's another man on the inside providing information about Urbanshade to Innovation Inc. in exchange for his and one other party member’s freedom. You wonder why Innovation doesn’t just have him do all of this dirty work since he’s already there, but you have a gut feeling that they don’t exactly plan on helping this poor fool in the way he probably thinks. You know firsthand that big corporations only care about the stock they make for the buyers they receive. While advising to find this person, Solace is what they said his name was (that name reminds you of the sweet old lady you meet at your usual cafe twice a month), and helping him out, providing aid to him and his party, isn’t necessary. Your priority is to bring back all the information you can and help shut down Urbanshade for good.
Creating a fake criminal file with fake crimes was easy work for you. Bringing your contraband items (half a pack of cigs, a communication watch, and a tiny notebook with a pink glitter pen) was easy. Getting Urbanshades' attention was just a stroke of luck. Now, everything that you are going to do will be equivalent to running in the dark. Even if you could find this Solace guy, you have no idea where to look. It’s not like you were given any information on these inmates and their backstories. You don’t even know what he looks like. Perhaps you should do this alone. Many of these people seem eager to rush ahead, while you need to take your time. It wasn’t like you actually needed the crystal that Urbanshade urges everyone to get, as you don’t need it to get out of here. Still, there are so many questions running through your brain that you're genuinely upset that you’re not omnipotent, so you can go ahead and answer them already.
You pick yourself up and head to one of the smaller submarines, hoping that no one decides to suddenly join you.
—
The sound of running, banging, shooting, and screaming isn’t unfamiliar to Sebastian. It’s easy to ignore it after a while. The low growls of the good people in the next room over or the distant whir of turrets freely firing fall short on the large beast. It’s the same old story with the same old plot. The large serpent-like monster never bothers to remember names to faces, calling everyone the same, with few exceptions. A group of expendables left his shop not too long ago, their conversations leaving a trail of echoes behind. A new haul of criminals should’ve arrived not so long ago, so Sebastian expects to see them very soon. He’ll greet them when they arrive and when they leave.
He hated waiting here. Sitting motionless until told otherwise. It was… irritating. Still, when the door outside his shop shuffled open, he fixed his hair and stood up straight, using his tail to flick the vent door open. Same run, same routine.
“Stranger. In here.” He ushered in a gravelly voice. You painfully crawled your way into the shop, your body feeling heavy and wet. It wasn’t from water, though. You felt like you were hanging on within an inch of your life, but still, the large amalgamation of different aquatic creatures caught your eye.
"Dat's a big fish.” You mutter to yourself. You didn’t expect him to hear, but he did. You know he did if the slight twitch of his lip was anything to indicate. You like to think you have a good read on people, but as of late, you aren’t too confident in any of your abilities or skills. So much has happened in the last thirty minutes, and it’s been more than too much. You cough in pain and in embarrassment. You weren’t doing too hot, and by looking alone, anyone could tell. Still, you pull yourself out of the vent, and the large fish man starts his greeting.
“Welcome in, stranger! Don’t be afraid; I won’t hurt you despite what you may have seen, heard, and/or have been told.” He cheers. There’s a feeling of false warmth to his tone, but if he’s going to be the first thing that isn’t going to kill you on sight, then you’re going to take the temporary sanctuary.
“My name is Sebastian. Your only friend,” he greets. You have a feeling that he doesn’t actually want to be friends. However, the name reminds you once again of the sweet old lady you meet twice a month for coffee. It’s a name she’s thrown around a few times. The name Sebastian Solace echoes in your mind; however, you ignore it. This could all just be coincidental. After all, Sebastian Solace was human… And dead.
And this was a fish man. Not dead. (There was never an official body.)
He goes on about the basic details of the mission Urbanshade has sent you on and how he will send you the data you collected in exchange for the items on his tail. You aren’t sure you want to part with the information you’ve almost died getting, but the medkit felt like a gift sent from heaven. It was glowing in its white and green hues, and you almost snatched it right where you stood, but stopped yourself.
“I don’t know if I can afford any of this.” You mumble sadly. Your body is flaring in pain. You wonder if you’ll die right here in the shop because you actually have no idea if you can keep going in your condition. Heat is flaring all over, and blood is starting to make your clothes stick to your skin.
“Worry not, friend; you can check your balance right on the wonderful tablet provided to you by Urbanshade.” He said, pushing hair out of his face. He has three eyes. Cool. Unhooking the tablet strapped to your belt loop, you fiddle with it slightly and notice a number that kind of looks like currency. Interesting indeed. When you touched whatever seemed important, it melted away, but you had a strange feeling like you didn’t actually lose it. This place was so fucking confusing. No logic or reason. The number itself was large. It felt like a whole month's worth of work squished into a little over thirty minutes' worth. Placing the tablet on the floor, you looked back at the medkit that was calling your name like a siren to a sailor.
“Just unhook the item of your desire, and the data will automatically transfer to me.” He chided, impatience seeping out of his tone. Humming to yourself, you unclipped the medkit and sighed a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Looking back at the tablet, you notice that you still have an impressive amount of data left over. You wait before you decide to buy anything else.
“Would it be alright if I patched myself up first, you know? Before buying anything else?” You asked cautiously. The fish man, Sebastian, cringes visibly before nodding hesitantly. He’s supposed to be a friend after all. He needed to play nice if he wanted you to trust him. Thinning your lips, you take a deep breath before sitting against a crate and pulling your shirt up.
“What?” Sebastian's voice growls in anger, startling you and letting go of your torn-up shirt. "What are you doing?” he asks, catching himself from letting his not very well hidden anger rush towards you.
“Ah. I had been attacked earlier. Some sort of beast behind a door with a distorted smile tore a nasty scratch on my chest, and I want to check the damage.” You explain, voice shaking as you recall the memory. In all honesty, you have no idea how you survived, but it could be worse, you suppose. Sebastian clearly isn’t happy with this answer but allows you to continue without another complaint. Pulling off your shirt, you notice your wife-beater is soaked in red and torn open with three claw marks shredding the fabric into pieces. You touch the wound carefully, hissing in a type of pain you temporarily forgot about until now.
Lifting the undershirt and letting it rest around your neck, you take the medkit and start patching yourself up. This whole place is a living hell. First, you were almost attacked by some monstrous angler beast, only surviving by narrowly hiding in a side room before it could reach you. It ran past you, its screams fading away in the distance. Then you were almost used as a pincushion from roaming turrets, quickly learning that the desk and lockers were bulletproof, but you still got nicked by stray bullets. Then you got unlucky and picked the wrong door, granting you a meet-and-greet with some sort of reddish monster that landed a harsh scratch on the chest before some sort of robot laughed at you for choosing the wrong door. You have no idea what you signed up for, but you’re quickly regretting it. No amount of money can be worth this.
Leaning your head against the crate, you gather your bearings and put your shirt back on. Groaning, you get up to browse Sebastian’s shop once more. There are a few light sources and some sort of card reader? It’s red with a few interesting markings, but the thing that catches your eye is a vanilla file on the desk next to Sebastian. The label reads "Z-13," while a big red stamp reads "[Classified]" in the middle.
“Is this for sale as well?” You ask. The angler seemed to remember that you were still here and grimaced at the question. His file wasn’t one he gave out often, making it expensive on purpose. The thought of some random expendable knowing who he was right off the bat made him uncomfortable, but he was in no position to refuse if they actually had enough. You did. He hummed in a way that made you think that your assumption was correct. You picked it up, and, alongside all of your other collected data, it melted away. You sneered silently because you wanted to read it now, but clearly it wouldn’t let you.
“I’ll have it ready for you when you return to the surface.” He said. Looking at your tablet, you notice that you have nothing else to spend. Damn it. This file better be worth it. “If you are all finished, then the keycard will be on the table for the next room.” You could feel his wavering annoyance creep through his teeth. Clearly, he wants you out of his shop. Not needing to be told any further, you make your way to the vent.
“Thank you.” You stake a claim, genuinely thankful for this semblance of a break. “For letting me rest and providing aid.” You can see him pause for a second, only a second, as you make your way out of his shop and back to the hell you were pushed in.
“Don’t mention it.” He muttered, waving you away, glad that you’re finally out of his hair. The sound of your footsteps fades into the distance.
—
Not even twenty minutes later, you find yourself face-to-face with the black void. Glowing teal eyes in a pair of three bore into your own as a familiar voice greets you.
“Oh. Hello. You died. Such a shame. I’m sure you already know who I am, considering we met not too long ago. An impressive feat considering it is your first time down here," Sebastian greets. You inhale sharply at the realization that you are somehow still alive. The last thing you remember was seeing the same creepy angler monstrosity as before, charging headfirst into you, ripping your head from your body. Piercing teeth ripping your flesh like paper as blood rushes down your body. Gripping your neck hastily, you feel a fresh scar, completely healed but heavily jagged, wrapped around your neck.
“I have been asked to fill the role of providing you with the information on all the dangers in here since those idiots decided not to. Whenever you die." That statement grabbed your full attention. “You’ll be brought here, and I'll provide a document detailing what caused your oh-so-early demise. I am limited to the amount of information I am able to share, unfortunately for you. All documents are heavily classified, covered in black lines, and redacted text. The more you die, the more information will be revealed.” You can feel yourself trembling. This wasn’t real. You died. You know you died, but somehow you’re back. You can hear Sebastian shift around, filing through a metal cabinet, but you can’t focus on anything else. Breathing was becoming hard, and any sort of attempt at composure wouldn’t stick.
The man before you tossed down a file. Your eyes met the same one that killed you. Z-283, or The Angler. The only thing you’re allowed to read is how an electromagnetic pulse will flicker the lights before its arrival. It is advised that you bring along a type of light source, as it will break all nearby electronics. Closing the document, you allow yourself to just…breathe. Sebastian says nothing, only watches you with his unwavering eyes.
After a moment, you pull out your little notebook and pink glitter pen to write down your findings.
Angler - Distant screaming, flickering light. Hide when nearby.
“This one is fast; make sure you’re out of sight whenever it passes through.” He suggests as he takes away the file. With nothing else to focus on, you take in your surroundings. It was like you were in the void, the darkness cloaking Sebastian along with it. The only thing you could see clearly was the desk in front of you and the fish’s three striking blue eyes and glowing esca.
“Where… am I?” He asked hesitantly, looking for more reassurance than anything. Something to keep your mind off the most recent events.
“You are in the in-between. The place you go when you die.” The other is surprisingly helpful. “You’ll be seeing this a lot. When you are ready to leave, just stand up from your chair. You’ll fall through the darkness and be brought back to the lobby to do this whole meaningless endeavor once more.”
That did nothing to calm your nerves.
“So you’re saying that I'll come back every time I die?”
"Precisely."
“My god. I’m in hell.”
“So it would seem.”
Everything felt surreal. You couldn’t seem to catch your bearings; however, deep down, you knew you had no choice. Biting your lip, you take one more breath, one more grasp of rhyme or reason. It takes longer than you want to admit, but you have no choice. You stand up from the chair and fall through the empty void, preparing yourself to try this again one more time.