#Implied human experimentation

[huh-1260]

body horror by experimentation with dark magic. This idea was inspired by Yubel a Yugioh archetype with how the limbs are slowly getting into dragon parts

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I think I have a problem with shaking Warriors/Hyrule Warrriors Link in a box of trauma

[victor-veloci-simp-69]

AU where Victor Veloci was not an OG!Dino but a mutant dino.

Imagine an AU where the only survivor is Ms Moynihan.

Desperately lonely, and with science advancing day by day, she gets the idea to try to make a companion.

(Be warned, this does get a little dark. Implied kidnapping and human experimentation. Nothing explicit, but yeah. Be safe. Not fanfic, just thoughts.)

There's a lot of directions this could have gone in.

Maybe she tries to make a clone baby with her DNA and someone elses.

Maybe she kidnaps some guy/teenager/kid off the street and gives him some dino-juice.

Maybe she even knows Victor. A neighbor, a friend, a fellow scientist or co-worker. Maybe he was a flirty barista at one point.

(How many people would she go through before she got a successful Victor Veloci? Was he a first time success or are there dozens of failed experiments who didn't survive? At what number would she give up? To what lengths would one go to, to no longer be lonely? Where is the line in the sand?)

No matter who he was before, or how many there was before, Victor Veloci is born.

He's not perfect. He's a dinosaur but he looks nothing like Ms Moynihan:

He's bigger, lacking the feathers that shine so beautiful on her, and scaled like a reptile. He looks as a human would expect a dinosaur to look like.

Maybe Moynihan gives up. Maybe she's tried so long and the results have never been what she wanted. Maybe her conscious catches up to her. Maybe she realises Victor is the closest she will ever get.

(Maybe she continues, thinking that Victor is the closest she has ever gotten, and victory is around the corner. Maybe he grows resentful at being considered not enough; a failure; an unloved, cheap imitation that will be discarded at first oppertunity)

She does not abandon him. He is her constant companion. She teaches him, of sciences and history and culture and the constantly shifting world.

(Does he remember his old life? Was he always Victor or was he someone else?)

Maybe he grows restless at being Imperfect. Maybe he grows frustrated at Ms Moynihan being content to it just being the two of them.

But eventually, he leaves. He takes on the surname Veloci. He convinces people to his cause.

Does he do it to find the formula to make himself perfect? No longer second best, no longer wrong?

Does he do it to make himself less lonely, less unique in a world where he is the only one, no one, not even his creator understanding what he is, what it is like.

Better yet, does he tell people he is an ancient Velociraptor because its easier to explain, because his past is painful and he'd rather be something he is not.

Or does he tell people that because he has deluded himself into thinking he is.

[nagisreader]

whumptober 2024 - day 27

[macey-kasey-nope]

Whumptober day 3-

Honestly this one took me the least amount of time so far. I like it but I wish I had time to color it.

Ngl I think his expressions could use some work.

Text:

Subject M-41x Report

Subject has been in solitary confinement for 37 total days. M-41X was given a journal; nothing was written. Subject began singing non-understandable lullabies on day 6, he stopped on day 23. Subject pleaded, seemingly with staff regardless of their not being in the room, to "make it stop". Subject has since been released.

-Team X-317

[whumpacabra]

Ey couldn’t be more thrilled with the news.

“How long will I have it?” The scientist wasn’t afraid of the Supervillain - how could ey be when a new test subject was being offered to em? The Supervillain chuckled, amused by eir obsessive glee.

“As long as you need.” The Supervillain nodded to her guards. “I haven’t been able to figure out it’s powers. Maybe you’ll have more success.”

“Of course, ma’am. As you know I have a rigorous protocol just for these kinds of subjects - I’m sure it won’t take - ” The mad scientist’s excited babbling was cut short as the guards dragged eir new test subject to the foot of the Supervillain’s chair.

“Is something wrong, doctor?” The Supervillain’s voice was laced with something dangerous. Suspicion. Sensing weakness. Ey smothered any hesitation with a toothy smile and a flourish of their lab coat.

“No, of course not ma’am! I - just didn’t realize how…thorough your own testing has been.”

The…it must have been a person, at some point, but it was hardly recognizable as such. It had clearly been starved and beaten, half drowned and broken. It was standard protocol, of course, but -

Something was so scared, so desperate in its eyes, the way it looked at em.

“Do you want the damn thing or not? It’s getting blood on my carpet.” The Supervillain’s tone was teasing, a laugh on her voice. The scientist cracked a smile, forcing eir eyes away from the bloody, mangled subject shivering on the floor in front of em.

“Yes ma’am - you’ll be the first to know when I make a breakthrough.” Ey hoped the shiver of fear in their voice was disguised as eir usual manic excitement. (Ey were lying to the Supervillain - why the hell were ey doing that?)

The scientist looked to her for permission before touching eir new test subject. The Supervillain nodded to the door. Ey grabbed hold of it by its chains, the pathetic thing stumbling after em, bloody footprints in its wake.

The scientist kept eir smile until the elevator doors slid closed, lowering the pair deep into the bowels of the lair. Ey glanced over at the new subject, crouched (collapsed?) at eir feet, shivering and wheezing.

When the elevator doors slid open, the scientist only felt a faint nausea looking at eir equipment, laid out and ready for testing. Ey half dragged the pathetic creature out of the elevator before realizing it was simply too weak to stand, let alone walk.

The scientist groaned internally, knowing the Supervillain would kill em if she found out; ey couldn’t experiment on it. Not like this.

Ey would figure out its powers another time. Right now…right now it needed help. And even if ey wasn’t the right kind of doctor, ey could help. Probably.

The scientist crouched down next to the cowering test subject, scooping it into eir arms. (It was so light. Too light for a person (?) this size.) A sound gurgled from its bloody lips, a half strangled plea for mercy.

“You’re alright.” Ey said, voice soft as the subject’s blood stained eir lab coat. Ey carried it away from the bubbling beakers and test tubes and surgery table. Toward eir personal quarters. “You’re going to be alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

For as long as ey could.

Whumpee being sent to mad scientist as a touch subject after being captured by supervillain. At first, mad scientist is excited to continue their experiments, but then they see the horrible condition whumpee is in, and they have to help.

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[fanfic-obsessed]

Historical choices

This idea starts on Kamino. Well before the time of the prequels. 

As with all my ideas, ignore any part of canon that contradicts it. 

Tipoca City became the capital of Kamino after the flood. It was never meant to be the Capital city. In fact it was not built to be a city at all. Tipoca was built as a remote research station, long before the flood. It was the first genetic research station for the Kaminoans.  

The very first project…how to prevent Force Sensitivity in their own people. For many reasons, all based on superstition and bigotry, the Kaminoan government decided that having Force sensitivity was undesirable and wanted it stopped.  The initial project, lost to the tides of time, took all the Force Sensitives they could get their hands on (though there were many adults captured, unfortunately Force Sensitive children and babies were easier to source) and began to experiment, with all the horror that that entails. 

By the time the scientists had a ‘breakthrough’ many decades later, everything that subjects endured had sunk into the location, darkening the Force as only that kind of pain and horror can. 

The scientists called it a breakthrough, removing Force Sensitivity from the Kaminoan genetic code and generations later the project had been forgotten, and it is assumed that Kaminoans simply were not Force sensitive. This is not quite true. What those initial scientists did was make Force Sensitivity above a specific threshold, well below the level to actually be considered Force Sensitive, toxic to Kaminoans. 

The funny thing is that after the genetic treatments to ‘remove’ force sensitivity, miscarriages among the Kaminoan population (which at that point was still reproducing, not cloning) shot through the roof, often including the death of the mother/carrier (I have no idea what the Kaminoans called the egg producer). At the same time the Force is not simply in sentients, it is also a vital part of the lifeblood of the planet.  There is a careful balance that the Force maintains which was utterly fucked by the mass death, and continued death, of any Force Sensitive Kaminoan.  While the connection is never made, these imbalances are the cause for the global warming that eventually floods the planet, also the violent frequent storms.  It is this and the birth rate issue that caused the Kaminoans to start cloning and genetic experiments to survive (All the while they kept including the genetic code that turned Force Sensitivity toxic). 

Even as their reputation as cloners grew, they never cloned sentients other than themselves (And there were no Force sensitive Kaminoans now). So they never realized that The Force on Kamino (in particular Tipoca City, but across the planet) had grown dark, violent, and feral. It is noted that animals cloned on Tipoca city tend to be more aggressive than normal, but that is not really noticeable given the contracts they were getting.

Not until the cloning of Jango Fett begins.  The Clones are near human and, though Jango Fett is not particularly Force sensitive, they are the first sentients since the treatment was completed for whom being touched by the Force was not lethal (since the Kaminoans no longer remember that the particular piece of genetic code was artificial, then never think to add it to the Fett clones).  The Force on Kamino curls around the clones, it loves them with desperation and the long lasting memory of the last time its children walked the surface. The Force ensures that every Fett clone is Force sensitive. 

To the trainers and Jango Fett there are a number of spots on Tipoca City that feel…deeply haunted. The more superstitious refuse to enter some of the oldest parts of the city, including where the growth tubes are located (no one is left alive to know but the growth tubes are placed in the oldest labs, where the subjects of the first scientist endured horrors beyond imagining).  

To be clear, the Force on Kamino is of the dark side. It is corrupted.  It is suffering and horror and despair leaching like poison into groundwater. It is a beaten, hurting animal biting anyone who comes close to prevent being hurt again. It is a feral thing that can not distinguish between friend and foe. And the Clones belong to it. 

This comes to a head when the majority of the CC batches are six.  One of the trainers spits out that the Jedi would also think the clones were just useless meat droids. And the Force on Kamino may have been a feral thing, a thing of suffering,  but it was also connected to the rest of the Force and it knew that the Jedi would love its children. 

It whispered this to the children, curling around them. One of the children, who would one day be Fox, glared up at the trainer and spat out that the trainer was lying.  The trainer, reacting more to the tone than the words, struck CC-1010. 

The Force on Kamino reacted. It had suffered the trainers to live because they were making it’s children strong. There had been no decommissioning or reconditionings because the Force was working to ensure its children performed exactly as they should.  But now the trainer had hurt one of its children, and not for training, but for speaking.  The barely leashed violence broke free and roared through the clones. The clones, empowered and driven by the Dark, this vicious protective energy built of the suffering from long before, took the city. It did not matter that the oldest of them were barely physically 8. Within 4 hours there were not any trainers left in Tipoca City (Jango Fett had been off planet on a bounty). Within 6 hours there were no Kaminoans either.  Within three days the Clones were the sole living sentients on Kamino.

Jango Fett came back three weeks after that to a very changed landscape. He is allowed to land because Boba (the toddler that he still is) does consider him a father.  The children, and they are all still children, have not eaten anything solid in two weeks (The Force is sustaining them, also the Force does not know what are good child rearing practices for near humans-it has existed long enough that it can’t even really tell the difference between child and adult in near humans).  The clones are now clearly something OTHER and very unsettling besides, but they all call him dad and he gets the creeping sensation that Jango was not allowed to deny them (Very much ‘oh no these ARE your children (threat)’).  The Force start playing with Clone ages (trying to figure out the best age for each clone to be for ‘their’ Jedi, the Kamino Force is invested in the Clones getting whatever they want and knows some Jedi will love the Clones dearly). 

Jango makes it another 6 months before he ‘sneaks’ away to make a panicked call to the Jedi Temple (He knows he screwed up), trying to make it their problem instead of his. Prior to this he made several attempts to call Dooku but none went through. He is chased down and told that The Force (called Buir/Protector by the Clones) allowed him this far because it knew that he would call the Jedi, but that it is time to return home now. 

There was a wandering Jedi, Master Faye, closer so she came to Kamino and was immediately given the feeling that she would care for the clones or else.  The Force on Kamino is still a wild, feral thing and the Clones are that much more aggressive for their connection to it. However the innocence of the clone children, now that they are not being trained for war any longer, has also been bringing balance back to the Force on Kamino. As they behave as children do, they have begun to drain away the leftover suffering, bringing light back to the Force. 

Some of the storms have even begun to ebb. 

It is still a bit of a horror show that Jedi now have to deal with, also children (who may be more than a little eldritch) who committed at least one Genocide. But there is hope.

[saym0-0]

once again insane about udad mechs, i just think that marius and raph would team up for some good ol human experimentation on dubiously dead folks, then chop up the bodies and take em to the acheron, brains for hades, all the good fleshy bits for cerberus, and for some reason persephone keeps requesting the bones

[sapphorror]

Okay, but one of the best things about Lice is the sheer amount of mutual pettiness it showcases between Zim and Dib for an episode that doesn't have them saying even a single word to each other

[pinkhairandpokemon]

seriously FUCK that Colress guy if I ever see him again I’m gonna snap him in half. he was the one who did this to me. why why why did I ever wish I had powers like other chosens. I can barely keep this new fire shit under control and it’s only a matter of time before I accidentally hurt peoplw feel just like I did when I got cursrd damn it

-Blake

[aparticularbandit]

Hey.

Hey guys.

Remember when Yuri described the book she gave the Player Character and it included human experimentation and people who would chop other people's body parts off and sew them onto themselves?

:D

[thegeniusofplaytimeco]

Chapter 16: Severed Ties

Summary:

With Mommy Long Legs hot on your heels, you have no choice - you and Olivia have to go. The plan is simple: get the train codes from the games and get out. But it was already clear that not everything would go according to plan. At the same time, Y/N's character development begins to emerge more and more clearly - not only through Olivia's view of the world, but also through the influences of the Smiling Critters.

Notes:

No, I haven't played Chapter 4 yet, but I'm planning to in the next few days. However, I've been told that it's not as good as Chapter 3. What do you think?

"Do you think it was a good idea to leave the children alone in the Game Station?"

Just now, as you and Olivia are making your way to Musical Memory, where for a moment there was finally silence - of course she has to say something again.

Three things about this statement bother you immediately.

First the word "children". Your opinion of the Smiling Critters has long been clear - and was expressed unequivocally exactly 42 minutes ago:

"The Smiling Critters are children's corpses ported over in fabric covers. Don't you get it, you fucking idiot?"

The Smiling Critters are not children. They might have been once, but that's over. The fact that Olivia still calls them that, as if they still were, as if they were somehow your children, leaves an unpleasant aftertaste. An absurd thought that you would like to forget immediately.

Secondly, the fact that she questions your decision. A good idea can only come from someone like you - someone who has already planned everything out, who doesn't make mistakes. Who does she think she is? An employee? One of those stupid puppets from Playtime Co. who keep making the same catastrophic mistakes? No. You're the genius here. You're the one in control.

Thirdly: "alone".

It doesn't make you angry - anger is an emotion for stupid people. But it annoys you. The Smiling Critters are a dead case. Even if you had stayed, it wouldn't have changed anything. They can't save themselves - and they don't deserve to.

Only you are different.

You can master every possible situation with flying colors.

Only you.

But Olivia - just like the others - is stupid. They need someone to guide them.

Because there is a reason for this saying:

If you want something done right, do it yourself.

"Can't you finally shut your mouth." Your voice cuts sharply through the silence.

Olivia raises her eyebrows, but instead of pouting or retreating, she grins mockingly.

"I get the idea. People like you scientists..." She makes a vague hand gesture. "Don't talk to women much, do you? Makes even you nervous, I guess."

I'll kill them.

You walk on through the labyrinthine concrete paths, tunnels and rusty metal bridges. The path is not complicated - for you. Olivia sometimes stumbles over loose cables or thinks too long before taking a turn.

Your rucksack occasionally jolts. Fully packed. Every movement reminds you of its weight.

You count through the contents in your head:

Medicine.

Food.

Tools.

Pistol.

Everything in its place.

And then you are there.

There are buttons and two screens in front of and behind the platform. An observation platform towers above you. Cables and pipes wind along the ceiling - and right in the middle, connected to a metal plate, hangs Bunzo Bunny.

The space for the green hand was superfluous. You already had it with you and are now putting it on.

You step onto the platform and cross the small metal bridge - which immediately retracts behind you as soon as you touch the ground.

"I really don't have a good feeling here." Olivia moves closer. "And you're quite sure she's going to give us the code?"

You don't answer. Your eyes remain fixed on the screens.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, you know..." Olivia crosses her arms. "You could at least pretend that me and the Smiling Critters aren't scum."

No answer.

She narrows her eyes, grabs you by the coat, takes a deep breath - just about to shout at you.

Then -

The screens light up.

"Welcome to Musical Memory! This advanced memory and cognitive recognition test is designed to stimulate several segments of the brain, allowing us to see how quickly and efficiently your brain works."

Everything exactly as it was back then. The same rules. The same mechanisms. A test for the orphans and employees. A game with a predictable outcome.

"The guy who's talking..." Olivia leans closer, her voice hesitant. "Is that-?"

"Yes." That's all you need to say. She understands.

"A sequence of colors will be shown, and you must recreate the exact sequence using the buttons around you. Bunzo will slowly lower towards you. When you complete a color pattern correctly, Bunzo will rise back up. When you input a pattern incorrectly, Bunzo will lower towards you faster. If Bunzo reaches you, your test is over."

If Bunzo reaches us, I'll just shoot him in the head.

You raise your eyes. He's hanging up there. Bunzo Bunny.

It looks... different than you remember it. Maybe damaged. Perhaps modified. The prototype probably didn't spare him either.

"The test will become more difficult as it continues, with longer patterns in quicker succession. That's all. Good luck!"

It doesn't matter what happens in the fifth round. It's just a distraction. We have to press the shutdown button. After that, she's guaranteed to give us the code.

"I hope your brain is working properly, Y/N." Olivia sighs, stretches, cracks her joints. "I'm really not good at mind games like this..."

Nobody thought so either.

"And besides, you have to keep turning around here, it makes me sick..."

You wouldn't make it anyway.

"I once heard that this is supposed to be really hard..."

Now shut the fuck up.

"Oh, isn't it amazing?"

Olivia flinches, startled.

You just slowly turn your head up towards the window.

Mommy Long Legs.

She leans forward slightly, watching you with a mixture of joy and malice.

"Mommy hasn't seen the place up and running in years! Mommy can only imagine how excited Bunzo must be."

"Damn it! Where did that come from?" Olivia instinctively backs away.

"Stay calm." You're not saying it to calm her down. Just to prevent her from doing something stupid - as usual.

Your eyes meet.

Her eyes are tense, a nervous flicker behind them. Yours? Empty. Emotionless.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Fine pink spots appear on her cheeks.

You turn away.

Bunzo above you bangs his cymbals together three times.

"Oh! That's the dinner bell! Good luck."

And so the game begins immediately.

Colored buttons appear in front of you, while the colors flash on the large screen. You react instantly. Precisely. Mechanically.

You hit the right buttons at lightning speed - so fast that Olivia can barely follow with her eyes.

You barely move, turning only minimally, while your hands work in perfect synchronicity with the commands. Using simple probability calculations, you predict which color will appear next. And you're right. Always.

The first laps pass in seconds. One. Two. Three. Four.

And then comes the fifth.

From here on, the game is impossible for a normal person.

But you are not a normal person.

As the patterns intensify and the speed increases, you calculate the next sequences in milliseconds. Your fingers hit the right buttons before your mind is even consciously aware of them.

And with a little trick, you can eliminate the time loss of the GrabPack: instead of letting the arms retract completely, you fire the second arm at the moment of retraction. Perfect efficiency. Not one movement too many.

"Dude! How do you do that?!" Olivia gasps beside you.

You ignore them.

It is unnecessary. Just like the Smiling Critters.

And yet...

In the midst of the stream of hundreds of colors, numbers and shapes, in the midst of absolute calculation, a single, disturbing thought creeps into your head:

Do I owe them anything at all?

From a logical point of view? No.

The Smiling Critters were just kids who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were unlucky enough to be under your scalpel. Unlucky that your genius turned them into monsters within an hour.

They could have been born anywhere in the world.

159 generally recognized sovereign states. This gives a probability of 99.19% that they would not have ended up here.

99.19 % against them.

You owe them nothing.

But...

Why does your stomach still feel so strange when you think about them?

Kickin's stupid grin. DogDay's silly smile. CatNap's calm look. Crafty's nervous hands. Pinky's resounding laugh. Bobby's curious eyes. Bubba's intelligence. Hoppy's unwavering determination.

So much more human than you.

And yet you are the one who has supposedly taken away their humanity.

The game gets faster. Relentless. Inhumanly fast.

Any orphan, any Playtime Co. employee who was in the wrong place at the wrong time would have lost long ago at this point.

The orphans would have survived. Of course they would. They were valuable raw materials.

Sooner or later they would have ended up on your operating table anyway.

For one employee, however... this would have meant the end.

Bunzo would have fallen down, torn him to pieces, pressed him between his teeth - and from that moment on, he would have been nothing more than a memory. A name on a file that would disappear into a dusty archive.

But you see him.

The button.

Black and yellow. A triangle with an exclamation mark in the middle.

"Fuck, what's happening?" Olivia screams and clings to you.

If you weren't busy aiming for the shutdown button, you would have pushed them away.

Targets.

Meetings.

Press.

The entire game stops abruptly.

Silence.

"Oh... it broke. That's no fun."

Mommy Long Legs watches you from above, her voice sings sweetly, but you know the poison behind it.

"For doing such a splendid job, Mommy has decided to give you both... part of the code for the train. Look up."

You both raise your eyes.

There, sticking out of the darkness of the observation room, is her pink plastic hand. Between her spread fingers is a small, folded piece of paper.

"Someone has weird fantasies about that." Olivia grins, despite her racing heart. "A kink loose." She nudges you playfully. "Come on! Take this thing and let's get out of here."

You ignore them. And you stretch out your arm.

The GrabPack whizzes through the air, grabs the paper and pulls it back towards you.

A quick glance.

One of three codes. Still far from complete.

Upstairs in the Observation Room, Mommy Long Legs takes a step back and sinks into the darkness.

"And now we'd best go very quickly."

You don't hear them. Because you've known for a long time that this is far from over.

The bridge that is supposed to lead us back to the exit is about to collapse.

This is not a technical defect. It is not a coincidence.

It was programmed into the system.

And if Mommy Long Legs has really recognized you - which she has - then she won't let you reach even the second game.

But if you tell Olivia that now, she'll panic. And panic costs time.

Time you can't waste.

So you say nothing.

You take quick steps towards the bridge, Olivia following close behind you.

"That was just really cool! Man, you fucking rocked that!" She laughs, a nervous, excited laugh. "The way you shot that long - phew! Phew! And not a second wasted."

You don't answer.

Your gaze remains fixed on the bridge.

Three more steps.

Two.

One.

Then she collapses.

Olivia opens her mouth, ready to scream - but before a sound can escape, you both land on the floor.

You are standing, as expected.

Five, maybe six meters drop height. A piece of cake.

Olivia, however, falls, flails her arms wildly, bounces roughly and then looks at you, panting. For a moment, she seems to check herself to see if everything is still in place - then she hastily straightens up.

"Phew... not so bad after all."

Does she always have to comment?

You're not wasting any time.

Your gaze glides through the darkness and you easily spot the dull red light. Beneath it: the entrance to a ventilation shaft.

With one shot of your GrabPack, you tear open the lid.

Just as you are about to push yourself into the opening, you hear Olivia behind you.

"I'm not going first! Not a chance!" She glares at you defiantly. "You do want to look at my ass, don't you?"

You pause.

It's not the first time she's made a remark along these lines. But Olivia... Olivia doesn't sound embarrassed or seriously belligerent - more like she's trying to provoke you.

And at that moment you feel something.

Not frustration. Not anger. Something deeper, darker.

The urgent desire to simply reach into your backpack, pull out the gun and paint the wall behind it red with three quick shots.

It would be easy.

It's that simple.

But you don't do it.

Instead, you crawl silently into the ventilation shaft, the blueprint of the factory clear in your mind's eye.

Every now and then your rucksack hits the ceiling.

"Really stuffy in here..." Olivia.

That's enough.

You stop. You turn around with a jerk.

And Olivia, who was just crawling behind you, emits a questionable noise.

You open your mouth.

The words are already formed.

Every single insult, every detailed description of her uselessness, her stupidity, and the simple fact that a few seconds ago you were seriously thinking of killing her.

You want to say it. No, you will say it.

The first syllable is already rolling over your tongue - sharp as a blade, ready to cut deep.

And then...

I'm still negative. I want to get up to zero.

Your own words.

An echo from the past.

Olivia looks at you. Full of expectation. Unsuspecting.

And you... say nothing.

Why?

It is not compassion.

It can't be.

Not with you.

Not here.

Not now, when you were just about to stomp them into the ground.

But something inside you is stopping you.

Something unknown. Something foreign.

A fragment of something you thought was long dead.

You breathe in. Then exhale.

"Move." Your voice is toneless, cutting. But the insults remain unspoken.

Olivia draws her eyebrows together, visibly confused - but she follows.

The crawl through the vent continues.

Step by step.

Silent.

Until you finally land.

In the Rejected Room.

As the name suggests - a warehouse for failed experiments and stranded ideas.

You glance around the room.

Everything looks exactly the same as it used to: a run-down, chaotic department store, crammed with shelves piled high with rejected toys. Creations that Playtime Co.'s management deemed too scary, too faulty or simply too stupid to ever bring to market.

You were only here once - because some incompetent idiot couldn't get the stock management right - but nothing has changed.

It smells of dust. Of decay. Of oblivion.

While you operate the crane to hoist Bron off his small platform and clear your path to the next area, Olivia strolls through the rows.

"No wonder some of these toys were never licensed!" She shakes herself. "They'd give me nightmares rather than fun!"

You don't answer.

The crane's mechanism whirs quietly as you charge the green hand with energy. The puzzle is already solved before Olivia even realizes that you are doing anything.

Then:

"Oh man! I need to go to the loo!" Olivia. "Is there a toilet around here somewhere? I'd rather not do it in your presence!"

You pause.

How can someone talk so much?

A single glance from you is enough.

Without a word, you turn around and jump onto the newly freed platform. It leads through narrow concrete pipes, deep inside the factory - back to the Game Station.

Olivia looks at you. Full of expectation. Silly.

"Okay, okay, I'll hurry!"

She disappears for barely a minute. Maybe two.

Then - hasty steps.

She runs back.

"Wow, I had to go really bad! But the fact that there are no toilets down here..."

You don't listen.

A quick glance at her, then you move on.

Back through the cold concrete corridors.

Past steaming pipes.

A few seconds of running.

Up a flight of stairs.

Pushing open a blocked door - a chair was behind it.

Then you're back.

Game Station.

The grand staircase.

Olivia stops a few steps behind you.

"Shall we go up together?"

You turn to her. She has a nervous smile on her face - probably because she knows she'll be meeting the Smiling Critters again in less than ten seconds.

You look at her briefly.

"I don't care."

Then you turn around and climb the stairs.

And then -

An odor.

Cocoa.

Fresh. Warm.

That doesn't fit here.

"Just hurry up."

"Oh, you're already talking more than you were at the beginning..." Olivia. You can't see her, but you can picture her grinning face. "That's a real step forward!"

You ignore them.

Step by step, you climb the last steps and enter the main platform of the Game Station.

And then you see them.

The Smiling Critters. They have breakfast.

In the middle of this godforsaken factory, on the platform in front of the train's control panel. Food is spread out on the floor. Plastic plates. Sandwiches. Cookies. A few thermos flasks.

One of them - Picky - is sitting there with her legs crossed, holding a kettle. A kettle from your home.

You blink.

Why...? Do you think you're saving the information for later?

Picky pours himself a cup of hot water and then stirs in a powder.

Cocoa.

Olivia raises an eyebrow.

"Tell me... do you really make cocoa with water?" She shakes herself. "Who does it like that? You drink cocoa with warm milk!"

The critters look at each other.

"Milk is hard to come by." Bubba. "So, water. "

Olivia sighs. "Poor you."

She takes a cup from them without being asked and also pours herself some cocoa. Then she sits down - just like that.

As if all this were completely normal.

You watch and as you stand still, Olivia sits down with the critters and starts to eat breakfast with them.

Despite time pressure. Despite everything.

Is she completely disabled?

Is she seriously going to have breakfast now?

A few minutes ago, during Musical Memory, she was still screaming as if it was her last breath. She was scared to death. And now? Now she's sitting there, stuffing bread in her mouth and acting like this is a fucking picnic.

You are angry. Suppressed, of course, as always, but the sight in front of you...

Olivia. The Smiling Critters.

The way they all sit there, handing each other food, talking as if nothing is wrong.

Even in a situation like this - where you are being hunted by experiments that would swallow you alive - they take their time.

Not for escape. Not for panic. Not for calculations or strategies.

For each other.

"Can you pass me the sausage?"

"Only if you give me the butter first!"

Smile.

They are all smiling.

Although they should know best.

The Smiling Critters - themselves experiments, themselves victims of this factory. Olivia - someone who has worked here, who should know what these walls hide.

So why? Why are they laughing? Why are they so happy? Just under an hour and a half ago, we fled from Huggy. From a monster that would have eaten us all alive.

And now they're sitting here. And laughing.

You watch them.

One step closer.

Olivia shoves a piece of bread into her mouth, drinks and talks at the same time.

DogDay and Bubba are the first to notice you. Then - slowly - Olivia.

She lifts her head, still chewing, and looks at you questioningly.

"What?" she mumbles with her mouth full. "Come on, I'm hungry! And thirsty! Besides, we almost died earlier!"

I can't believe this is a grown woman.

"What happened?" asks Bobby. But Olivia ignores her for a moment.

"Oh come on, genius..." Olivia grins at you. "Even here at Playtime Co. we had lunch breaks!"

Silence.

For a moment, everything is dead quiet.

Then -

Kickin giggles. Picky follows and slowly - one by one - they all start to laugh.

And Olivia? Her too, of course.

With her stupid laugh, her stupid manner and that damn...

You just look at how they all laugh.

Even Hoppy. Even her, who had that cold look on her face the whole time - and rightly so.

And then...

Do you feel it. For a moment. For a very brief moment.

It feels like shortness of breath. A pressure in your chest, a pulling in your stomach, as if air is suddenly escaping.

And then you really notice it.

You smile. Not much, but you do.

A small, almost uncertain smile. A nervous one.

Because it's new to you. Because you can't explain it to yourself.

It was a bad joke from Olivia.

From the person who annoys you the most. Who is always talking. Who always interferes.

And yet... somehow...

You smile.

You want to hide it.

Do something so that nobody sees it.

It feels wrong. Foreign. An unfamiliar feeling - and you hate unfamiliar things.

Maybe that was the reason why you wanted to become a doctor. Why you became a scientist.

Everything must be understandable. Controllable.

But this?

That's not it.

"Holy shit..." Olivia stares at you with wide eyes. "You're smiling!"

All the critters fall silent.

Her eyes follow hers.

Follow to you.

You stand there for a split second. Caught.

But your face immediately returns to its usual stoic, expressionless form.

"You imagined that."

Olivia raises a brow. "Ohhh no. Definitely not."

And then - of course - she starts talking.

"This is a real breakthrough! I knew it! There's a real heart behind that cold, emotionless facade! Oh my God, what's next? Will you maybe even say 'please' and 'thank you'? Will you show us your cuddly toy collection?"

You take a deep breath.

"Olivia." Your voice is cutting, razor-sharp. "Hold it. Your. Shut. up."

Of course she doesn't keep her mouth shut.

"Oh, come on, I need to enjoy this!" She leans closer with a grin. "Do you often smile secretly when no one's looking? Have you ever laughed? How does it feel? Did it hurt? Do you need a hug?"

You can feel your brain dying.

Every single second she keeps talking is a blow to your patience.

And the worst thing about it?

It takes time.

You are wasting time.

The clock is ticking.

Mommy Long Legs could reappear at any moment.

The prototype could be watching you by now.

The Game Station is just a playground for death.

And they sit here and talk about your damn smile.

The critters have long since become engrossed in another conversation that you are ignoring.

Playcare.

They speculate about what it looks like there. What is probably left of this place.

You don't care.

It doesn't matter.

You're just waiting for Olivia to finally stop stuffing her face with bread and drinking cocoa.

At last.

After what feels like an eternity, she puts her cup down, stretches exaggeratedly and grins.

"Okay, okay, I'm ready! Let's get going, boss!"

You turn away and start moving.

But then -

"Wait!"

Bubba.

He jumps up and takes a step closer.

"I want to go."

You pause.

Look at him.

A single sentence is on the tip of your tongue. A cold, rational answer.

"No. You're just getting in our way."

But you don't say it.

You would have said it. Just an hour ago.

But now -

Now it remains unspoken.

And before you can even formulate an answer, Olivia takes over.

"We both know our way around here best, Bubba." She puts a hand on his shoulder. "And there's no time to lose."

Bubba hesitates, but then sighs and nods slowly.

You don't say anything.

But two things stick in your head.

The first:

She said "both".

Not "me". Not "you're bothering me".

Us. She described you and herself as a team.

The second: You didn't insult Bubba.

Not because you forgot. But because you simply didn't do it.

Without a reason. Without an explanation. And it's as if something is shifting inside you.

Not much, but something. Something human.

And so you start moving again.

Next destination: Wack-a-Wuggy.

The second test for the train code.

"Don't take offense from just now..."

You turn your head slightly to the side.

Olivia.

For the first time without her usual grin. Her gaze is more serious - not entirely serious, but more serious.

"I know it must be hard for you too."

Heavy? For you?

Interesting.

"I've worked here too, I've heard the rumors... and also things they've said about you."

Rumors.

There are many about you. You know that.

The scientist who worked with the doctor.

The man who knows everything.

The genius who has no emotions.

But this time you listen more carefully.

For the first time, the conversation doesn't seem completely meaningless.

"I would never have expected someone who worked with the Doctor to keep the critters safe. "** Olivia takes a deep breath.

Understanding.

Your voice has understanding.

A strange concept.

"I understand that you want to improve, honestly!" She gets louder as you walk down the stairs to the next game. "But..."

"Sometimes you don't even need to move on. You just need to not go back."

You unconsciously hold your breath.

These words - they hit the mark.

Not like a realization, but like something you've known for a long time but never wanted to accept.

Your mind stops for a moment.

It's true.

Maybe you don't have to try to become a better person. Maybe it's enough to stop being a bad person.

"You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore."

That's the second sentence. And again: truth.

Not rational. Not measurable. But somehow... right.

It feels like an algorithm that you've never calculated. Olivia looks at you. Expects a reaction.

But you are quiet. You just keep walking.

Wack-a-Wuggy awaits you.

The way to the second game is not nearly as long as the first. Just down the stairs of the Game Station.

Olivia stops for a moment, turns around and waves to the critters, while you continue on your way.

You are already planning.

She won't give us all three codes just like that. Never. With the third code at the latest, she'll get angry and probably hunt us down.

You descend further, into a large hall with a sandy floor and a faded mural of a building site on the walls - as if this place was once really meant for children.

And even if we have all three codes and free Poppy too, she won't let us go. Poppy needs us for something, probably to help against the prototype, she'll never let the train leave.

"Ready for game two, genius?"

Olivia grins - as always. Despite the situation. Despite everything.

"You've already carried the last game. Hopefully this time again."

You don't answer. But for the first time there is this urge to do it.

Then -

"The toys in this game used to have strings attached to them... so they could be pulled back... when they got too close to the children."

Mommy Long Legs. Her voice sounds from above. She is watching you from a dark observation room.

"Have fun."

"Do you think..." Olivia takes a more defensive stance, her shoulders tensing. "Do you think they took the thongs off?"

Wasn't that obvious?

Her tone said it all.

Then -

Noises.

From above. From the sides. Through the ventilation shafts.

You are here.

"Dude..." Olivia. Her voice flat. "So here we go..."

And then it starts.

And the moment it starts, it's already over for you.

The Huggy's are coming from every direction. But you are already expecting them. Your movements are precise and calculated. Every movement optimized. You aim, shoot, hit. Always.

One shot. One hit.

Olivia stands behind you, back to back. She shouts occasionally, calling out directions to you, but you don't need it. With your perfect vision and the constant, rapid turning of your head, you have long since captured everything.

Your speed, your attack pattern and your weaknesses.

They are predictable.

Apart from the specific children's weights, only children under forty kilos were ever used for the mini-huggies. In the event, one of their heads will weigh no more than six kilos, so a pistol shot to the head would be enough to knock one out.

The Huggy's emerge from the holes and fall back again just as quickly.

One after the other. Precisely. Efficiently.

You win.

Of course you do.

"Oh..."

You both look up. And there she is again.

Mommy Long Legs.

Her pink body hangs relaxed against the glass of the observation room, her voice dripping with false admiration.

"A win! Mommy is so proud of you two..."

Then - a change. A darker tone.

"Although I didn't expect anything different from you."

"Damn, I think she's got the hots for you!" Olivia grins at you, but you ignore her.

Mommy stretches out her endless arms, and from another ventilation shaft, barely visible in the semi-darkness, her hand appears.

Another piece of code.

"Perfect!" Olivia beams as you reach for the paper with your GrabPack and put it in your coat pocket. "That's just one more thing missing."

But then -

"I do wonder one thing though..."

You both freeze.

Normally it disappears immediately after the code is transferred.

But not this time.

Mommy stays.

Her tone is softer, but more dangerous.

"What's a rotten soul like you doing here?"

Your gaze remains neutral.

No reaction. No twitching.

She can't read your facial expression, nor can you see right through hers.

"You worked with Sawyer, and you're not ashamed to come back here?" Her voice becomes more menacing. "Even with the Smiling Critters?"

Olivia pulls a confused face.

Of course she doesn't understand anything.

Maybe, if you were to estimate generously, she could guess 2% of your knowledge. Probably less.

"I'd have to tear them to pieces in front of you..."

Mommy Long Legs continues to lean forward.

Her eyes sparkle with unspoken hatred.

"...just to show you a tiny part of our suffering."

Her fingers crunch as they clench into a fist.

"You and the prototype..."

"You're both the same."

And with these words, she disappears into the darkness.

The door back to the Game Station is blocked.

You have to take a detour.

Through narrow maintenance rooms, past old machines that haven't been running for years. At one point you even have to pull yourself up on a metal pole - because the stairs are destroyed.

You don't mind Olivia clinging to your side as you pull you both up with the GrabPack.

It would have been a moment in the past when you would have instinctively pushed her away.

Now?

You register it, but you don't react.

The road is long.

Rusty tracks and locked gates.

When you finally end up in a long corridor, criss-crossed by old rails and several locked doors, you stop for a moment.

Planning.

You need to figure out how you're going to do the third game. How to trick Mommy Long Legs. How to free Poppy.

There are still too many variables. Mommy is unpredictable. Poppy is not trustworthy. And the prototype...

You exhale and turn to Olivia.

"Look around you."

She raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Look around you. I'm thinking."

She seems to think for a moment, then shrugs her shoulders. "All right, then. Maybe I'll find a secret treasure or something."

At least it's quiet.

While she disappears, you let your thoughts run free.

We don't have much time. Everything has to be put in the right order. Mommy will chase us. Poppy will try to manipulate us.

And then?

Then there's Playcare. Your mind races through old memories. Plans. Blueprints. Calculations.

And then - steps, Olivia comes back.

"Soooo..." She leans against one of the metal walls. "I've checked the puzzle. It's impossible."

You narrow your eyes. "There's no such thing as impossible."

"Yes, you do. I swear. Even you can't do it."

"You don't have enough intelligence to estimate, nor can you solve a puzzle that was made for stupid production workers."

Olivia rolls her eyes. "Oh, shut up. Anyway, Kissy Missy showed up and opened the door for me. Cute, right?"

You pause.

Kissy Missy?

Unlikely.

But not impossible.

You say no more.

You simply walk up to the puzzle and solve it within two minutes.

And that brings you back to the Game Station.

Olivia immediately runs up the stairs without a moment's hesitation and throws herself into the middle of the group of Smiling Critters. Her voice almost cracks as she recounts what just happened - how Kissy Missy opened the door for her, how you solved the puzzle in record time, and of course, how Mommy Long Legs once again gave a little personal hate speech against you.

You don't listen.

You are not interested.

You're already thinking about the next game.

Statues.

It has to be perfectly planned.

If you survive the game, it must fulfill two objectives:

First: Kill Mommy Long Legs or at least hurt her so badly that she can no longer follow you.

Secondly, Olivia has to save Poppy.

No plan B. No mistakes.

Just one single, flawless pass.

You look at the group.

They have finished their breakfast - finally.

And just like you, they also seem to be planning.

Bubba has placed a large blueprint of Playcare on the floor. In a calm voice, he explains the structure of the building and the possible escape routes he remembers.

Of course, no one listens to him.

Kickin and Hoppy are discussing their seats on the train like this is a fucking school trip. Bobby is talking to Olivia about some bullshit, something about makeup or warm milk. Crafty is sitting cross-legged on the floor, drawing intently with a broken pencil. DogDay and CatNap mumble quietly to each other, presumably about their own pasts.

They all have their small, meaningless worlds.

You ignore them.

But then -

"Good luck to both of you!"

A few of the critters call after you as you finally set off.

You pause for a split second.

To both of you.

You cut that out of your thoughts. Meaningless.

The Game Station disappears behind you as you step through one of the rear doors.

The path to Statues takes you deeper into the complex. Narrow hallways and dark back rooms.

You solve a few more electrical puzzles, supply doors with electricity, bypass defective circuits. Olivia stays quiet this time - perhaps because she realizes that you're already five steps ahead in your thoughts.

After exactly four minutes and seventeen seconds, you will finally be standing in front of another huge metal door.

Statues. The gate slowly rises and the hall in front of you is huge.

Three sections, clearly recognizable.

The first: a labyrinth of small castle walls. A zig-zag path that will lead you through narrow corridors. The second: A moat made of blue foam cubes, with rings hanging above it. Too risky. Shimmying through the rings would take too much time. You will have to go through the bottom.

The third: Yellow blocks scattered across the foam trench. A jumping course. No problem for you - but Olivia?

You note down every potential risk in your head at lightning speed.

And then -

The TV flickers above you.

"Welcome to Statues."

A cold voice.

"Wow... it's getting exciting." Olivia sounds excited.

"This advanced obstacle course is designed to test your physical endurance and strength. The rules are simple: The lights will turn off; you can move through the obstacle course at this time. However, when the lights turn on, you can look around but cannot move. You may move again once the lights turn back off. The lovable PJ Pug-a-Pillar will follow you. If PJ reaches you... your test is over."

The screen goes black. The music stops and you both stand at the first gate leading into the first sector.

A light flickers to your right, without looking you know what to expect.

Barely fifteen meters away, behind a window, she stands: Mommy Long Legs.

"It was always so sad to see the kids go..."

Her voice is almost melancholic.

"They called me Mommy because I was the closest thing they ever had to one."

You only see them out of the corner of your eye.

Her long, unnatural limbs; the way she almost blurs with her surroundings in the semi-darkness.

"But they'd come for games... and never come back."

She leans closer to the glass.

"They left Mommy to die alone... Mommy didn't deserve that."

"I'm getting really scared of the..." mumbles Olivia at your side.

You do not react.

You don't need to be afraid.

Facts only.

"But you two..."

Mommy Long Legs raises her head slightly, her eyes sparkling.

"You worked here. So If anyone deserves to die alone..."

A smile slowly spreads across her face.

"It's you."

Then she disappears.

And the gate opens.

Lights off.

The disturbing music echoes through the room, distorted sounds that don't belong here. You move quickly, along the walls, in a constant zig-zag pattern.

Left - right - left - right.

Then -

Light on.

You stop abruptly.

"Don't move."

Simple. Direct. No room for error.

"I know..." Olivia sighs. "But can't we just keep going?"

Not even three seconds have passed and she is already getting impatient.

But then -

A sound.

Deep from the shadows.

Slow, sluggish, heavy.

Behind you, in the darkness, something is moving.

PJ Pug-a-Pillar.

It winds its way through the narrow path, its massive body pulling itself through the tunnel, centimeter by centimeter closer to you.

Lights off.

You are moving again.

You're getting further than you expected.

Olivia is fast.

Even faster than you.

Nevertheless, it does not remain quiet.

"Damn, I stubbed my toe!" and "I swear, this wasn't built for children!"

It's irritating - but it keeps pace.

You reach the second section.

Lights off.

"Oh my fucking-!"

"Stay calm."

You have to go through the foam trench.

The soft ground makes every step difficult, forcing you to literally dig through the cubes.

Behind you -

PJ comes closer.

His crawling movements echo through the tunnel.

But Olivia... She fidgets.

It cannot stand still.

Even now - when any movement could mean death - she twitches nervously.

If she doesn't get this under control, we're dead!

So you make a choice.

Slowly. Painfully slow.

You move your hand.

Then you reach for hers.

Her skin is warm. Unusually warm.

Olivia freezes.

Her head jerks around towards you, her eyes wide, her cheeks red. An expression you've never seen on her before - startled, yes, but also...

Shy.

But you can't analyze any further.

Lights off.

You keep moving.

But Olivia...

She won't let go.

Quite the opposite.

Her grip tightens, her fingers clasp yours, and you move together through the darkness.

Together.

You slide through the cubes, jump over obstacles, climb side by side over the yellow blocks.

Almost... effortlessly.

As if something had settled in.

But you can already see it.

The error in the design.

The collapsed exit: it is blocked.

Large piles of rubble - the planned trap.

Mommy Long Legs never intended to make you pass this test.

That was an execution.

Light on.

PJ is now less than twenty meters away.

His huge eyes look at you without expression.

"Wait a minute..." Olivia gasps, only now realizing the obstacle. "Don't tell me!"

"Hold on tight."

That's all you say.

Olivia is breathing faster now. Her chest rises and falls in short, uncontrolled movements.

She panics, but has no time to process it.

As soon as the light goes out, pull them with you.

A single, lightning-fast shot from your GrabPack will send you both soaring.

You crash into the glass wall of the observation room.

Olivia gasps loudly as you come to your feet. You push her behind you so that she doesn't get hit by shards of glass in her shocked state.

You are on top.

Mommy Long Legs is already gone.

And now?

Now there is just one last thing to do, and that is the last part of the code.

Olivia is still standing next to you, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, her fingers trembling slightly.

"What..." She swallows. "What do we do now?"

You straighten up and look at the dark hole in front of you.

"Normally we would go through this corridor now..."

Your voice is calm. Calculating.

"It goes deep under the factory, through a massive underground system, and then back towards Game Station."

Olivia blinks. "Normally?"

"There's a quicker way." You look at her. "A way that leads us directly to a machine we can use to kill them."

She swallows. Her grin has disappeared - she understands that this is no longer a game.

Not that it ever was.

You move.

Through a white door in the observation room.

Then down the stairs, through various hallways.

You are back near the Game Station, but that is not your destination.

You take them further.

Deeper.

Until you stand in front of a long, sterile corridor.

White.

Much too white.

It's as if someone had tried to make this place look clinical - a pointless attempt when you look at the floor.

Stains.

Red and blue squares.

Colors that shouldn't be here.

All over the walls - drawings are scribbled pictures of Mommy Long Legs.

A nursery nightmare in the middle of this lifeless factory.

And at the end of the corridor?

One goal.

A huge, metallic gate.

Directly above -

A scanner for the blue hand of the GrabPack.

You turn to Olivia.

"Listen."

Your voice is calm. Controlled.

"Mommy's about to come running up behind me."

Olivia winces.

You ignore it.

"There's a big machine in this room. A kind of shredder."

She nods, nervously.

"We have a minimal time window. I'll activate the shredder with the GrabPack. Mommy will be too fast to stop and run straight into the machine. Once she's caught, we'll have her crushed."

Every word fits.

And to your surprise...

Olivia understands.

She doesn't say anything stupid. No jokes. No comments.

She just nods. Slowly.

And then you shoot the blue hand at the scanner.

The loading bar fills up slowly.

Much too slow.

And then -

Stamping.

Heavy.

Loud. Fast.

You turn around.

At the end of the aisle - Mommy Long Legs.

She runs. Unnaturally fast.

Her body stretches to absurd lengths, her arms grab the walls, pulling her forward even faster.

"She'll be right here-!" Olivia gasps. "Damn it! How long does it scan for?"

The gate opens, much too slowly.

Mommy is right behind you.

You take Olivia with you. Immediately. You both storm through the entrance.

You see the shredder.

Without hesitating for a second, you shoot your GrabPack at the lever.

The machine starts up. Mommy rushes in behind you. But she doesn't stop. Too fast. Too much momentum.

She crashes into the machine.

One mistake. A single mistake. And she realizes it too late.

Because your arm is in the shredder.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

She screams.

Her body writhes, fighting against the metal teeth. In vain, as she is slowly pulled in.

Their flesh shatters into fibrous strands.

"HE'LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM! "

Olivia stands stock-still next to you. Her eyes are wide, her breathing shallow.

But you, you are just observing.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"

One last screech.

Then -

Silence.

The shredder spits out the remains.

A single severed head rolls across the floor.

And then -

A sound.

Not from Olivia. Not from you. From behind the gate. Something is moving.

You turn around immediately. But it's too late. Something shoots out. A metal hand.

Unnaturally long, thin, bony And she reaches for the head.

Mommy Long Legs' remains disappear into the darkness.

The prototype...

You do not react. You don't shout. You do nothing.

Just watch.

Mommy Long Legs' head disappears into the darkness.

You don't move. You don't even think about it. Just another calculated result.

That's it.

"Let's go."

Your voice is neutral and Olivia says nothing.

No stupid comments. No jokes.

She just follows you. Back to the Game Station. But differently this time. Not through the corridors below. But high up.

You move across metal catwalks, narrow lattice walkways that run high above the game station.

Directly above the Smiling Critters. Twenty meters above their heads.

Normally...

Normally you would have expected Olivia to say something like, in her usual inappropriate volume:

"Oh my God, look down there!"

Or "Hey, do you think I can spit down here?"

Something. But she says nothing.

She is still shocked.

You can see it in her attitude.

How she doesn't deliberately push herself towards you this time, but consciously keeps her distance.

She still processes it. The shredder. The screams.

Mommy Long Legs' last, desperate sentence:

"HE'LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM!"

But it's not your problem. You reach the train's command center.

You step through the door - and Olivia immediately makes a noise.

A soft, stifled gasp. And then you see it too.

Poppy.

Upstairs, on a small conveyor belt, directly above two computer screens.

Glued down. Wrapped in a net. Mommy had caught her. But Mommy is dead.

You don't wait, one well-aimed shot with the GrabPack and the net tears.

Poppy falls forward, you catch her and also tear off the snippet with the third move code.

That's the end of it.

But before you can say anything -

"Did you kill her?"

Poppy's voice is weak. Broken. Her porcelain skin looks paler than usual.

Something is different. But you can't place it. And you don't answer either. Neither does Olivia. But the answer is clear.

Poppy looks at you. Long.

"Good...I'll board the train. We need to leave. "

It disappears into the shadows.

And you continue across the catwalk.

This time it is Olivia who draws attention to herself.

She calls down with a short, sharp "Hey!".

The Critters look up. Bubba first. Then DogDay and then the others.

A few wave.

Kickin shouts something upstairs, but you don't listen. All you see is Olivia suddenly falling back into her role. She leans over the railing, grinning - a smile that's much more forced than usual.

But she tries. She tries to pretend that everything is normal. But her fingers, clinging to the metal, are white with tension.

And then -

"Come on."

You don't wait for her. You go down a small, blue chute. A short, narrow shaft.

Olivia lands a little roughly on the floor next to you, curses briefly, and then -

You are back downstairs. Back in the Game Station.

The critters are ready. Breakfast is over, the plans are made.

Bubba is the first to approach you.

His eyes wander back and forth between the two of you.

"Is she dead?"

You just nod.

"How?"

Again, you just nod.

Bubba presses his lips together, but he doesn't ask any more questions.

Therefore DogDay.

"And now?"

Now. Now you go.

Now you're off to Playcare.

You know it. And they know it.

But Olivia...

It's not quite there yet.

She laughs with the critters, but you can tell it's not real.

She talks, makes jokes, even complains loudly that the cocoa was made with water and not milk - but her hands are still shaking slightly.

She almost overdoes it.

And you recognize it.

She doesn't want to think about what she has just seen.

Mommy Long Legs' body, crushed between the gears.

The torn-off head, the metal hand that stole it.

But she says nothing about it. And you say nothing. Because there's nothing to say.

"Let's get going."

That is all.

A simple, short command.

And then they all get on the train.

You. Olivia. The Smiling Critters.

The code is complete. You enter the numbers, your eyes fixed on the indicator lights.

Red. A moment of silence. Green. The train jerks forward. And you're on your way. You can feel the glances of the others behind you.

Everyone is standing in the front carriage - tense but excited. The Smiling Critters whisper among themselves as the train plunges deeper and deeper into the yellow network of tunnels beneath the factory.

"Finally away from this place!" Picky leans back and relaxes. "I think I'm having nightmares about that spider woman."

"What do you think awaits us down there?" Kickin looks nervously at the window. "Playcare..."

"I don't know." Bubba replies calmly. "But whatever it is - it can't be any worse than this."

You listen to them as you slowly lean back. But your mind is elsewhere.

If Poppy still needs us, she'll crash the train. There is no alternative. If we reach Playcare, she can no longer control us.

So she has to stop us before we get there.

You know it. And Poppy knows it.

"I was so scared she'd put me back in that case."

Everything stops. Every voice. Every noise. The conversations stop abruptly.

You all look up. Left, to the small loudspeaker.

Poppy's voice.

"But you saved me."

Confusion spreads. The critters look at each other. DogDay frowns. Bobby tilts his head. Olivia furrows her eyebrows.

But nobody says anything.

Then -

"You two are perfect..."

A whisper, soft and cold. "Too perfect to lose."

Your gaze hardens. There it is. The moment you've been waiting for.

"I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

The train jolts. No gentle braking. No warning signal. A brutal change of direction.

Instead of going straight ahead, where the exit is, the train suddenly veers to the right. A steep precipice. A disused track. An unavoidable crash.

"Hold on tight." That's all you say.

But the panic sets in immediately.

"WHAT?!" Olivia's head jerks around. "Wait, wait, wait - is she trying to kill us?"

"Damn, damn, damn!" Bubba tries to hold on to the seat.

"DO SOMETHING!" Kickin screams.

The critters cling to each other, too late, too slow. Then the train tips over.

It pulls to the left, then to the right, then everything tilts.

The world turns. And then - the impact.

Loud. Hard. The critters are thrown backwards. You see Olivia crash into a metal strut, her head falls forward. One by one, they lose consciousness.

And you? You're still standing. The only survivor in a room full of falling bodies.

You can see the emergency brake lever. It is close enough.

Your arm shoots forward -

You reach for it, tear at it -

"You should know best what happens down here... Y/N." Poppy's voice sounds so much colder now. "I hope you take this as always... professionally. "

Then - the final impact.

Metal breaks. Windows shatter. A final, fatal jolt -

And even you can no longer stay on your feet. The force pulls you backwards. You slam into the wall. Your arms shoot up, trying to cushion the blow -

But it's not enough.

The pain explodes in the back of your head.

Your vision blurs, the world around you goes black.

"What my subordinates are doing, Mr. Pierre... is a plan. Not murder, just the simple execution of my orders."

Light. Flickering. Distorted. Not the cold neon light of the factory. A different light. Orange. Glowing. Burning.

You feel it even before you see it. Heat. Pain. Your eyelids twitch. A flicker, a twitching of your fingers. Then - breath. A breath of air, rough, hot, oppressive - not enough. You gasp. Your body feels heavy, every movement is like passing through a thick, burning fog. You blink.

And then you see it. Fire. Everywhere. Glowing flames wrap themselves around the walls of the derailed train. Red, blazing tongues that consume everything around them. The ground beneath you is hot, almost unbearable. Black smoke rises, thick and oppressive. It burns your eyes, bites your lungs. Every breath is agony.

"Shit..." Your own voice sounds strange. Broken. Scratchy. You try to move. Your fingers grope across the soot-covered floor, your muscles ache. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you straighten up.

Your head throbs. A dull pain hammers through your skull. You grab the back of your head. Blood. Warm, sticky. But not lethal. Not deadly enough to stop you.

You look around you. But that's the problem: you're alone. No Smiling Critter. No Olivia. No one. Only fire. Only smoke. Only the distorted shadows of the blazing flames.

"Olivia?" No answer.

"Bubba?" Nothing.

You stand there, surrounded by destruction. Your mind is working, analyzing, reconstructing: Where are they? How long were you unconscious? How bad are their injuries? But no matter how many formulas, calculations or probabilities you run through in your head - you have no answer.

And this is the first time you really notice it: something has changed.

You look around you. The world around you is a chaos of fire and destruction. But now that your vision clears, you recognize it. Playcare. Or more precisely - the Playcare Train Station. Except that it no longer looks the way it should.

The floor is torn open, steel beams protrude from the walls like broken bones. The air is thick with smoke, heavy and poisonous, burning in your lungs, each inhalation feels like a sting. Flames flicker over pieces of rubble, casting distorted shadows on the walls. The light from the neon tubes above you flickers, some are broken, others hang at unnatural angles from the ceiling, spraying sparks.

And behind you - a massive mountain of rubble.

The way back is blocked. Perfect.

You take a deep breath and feel the weight of your rucksack on your back. Everything is still there. You check your hands. Slight wounds, nothing serious. Slowly, you take a step forward.

And then you hear it.

Crying. Quiet, trembling crying. Childlike.

You stand still. The sound cuts through the smoke, softer than anything else here. But you know it.

You've heard it many times. In the labs. In Playcare. In prison. It's the cry of someone who has lost. Someone who knows there is no escape.

You follow the sound. It leads you past broken train carriages, through smoke and glowing debris.

And then you see her: Hoppy. She is sitting on the edge of the platform, huddled together, her big green ears hanging limply, her body trembling slightly. Her hands are buried in her face, she is crying.

You pause and say nothing. Neither does Hoppy. Only the sound of the fire fills the silence. Seconds pass, then minutes. Neither of you moves.

Until finally - "I'm sorry." Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

You don't react. Again: "I'm sorry." More shaky this time. "I'm so sorry." The same words over and over again.

And at some point you speak:

"Why?" A simple word, but it brings everything to a standstill.

Hoppy takes a deep breath, her hands clawing at her legs. "Because..." She falters and swallows hard. "Because I'm the only one left."

"What?"

"The others..." She shakes her head, her ears twitching slightly with tension. "They're gone. All of them. Kickin, Olivia, DogDay... all of them."

A hard knot tightens in your stomach.

"Gone?"

"CatNap took them."

Silence spreads - only the crackling of the fire remains audible. You sit down next to her; Hoppy doesn't move.

And for the first moment since you've known her, there's no hatred in her gaze - no more resentment or reproach - just guilt. She looks down at her hands; they are clasped together as tightly as if she were trying to hold herself.

"I've been hiding." Her voice is soft and brittle at the same time. "When CatNap came... I was too scared. I didn't do anything. I... I let her down."

 You observe her closely - and without meaning to, you recognize yourself in her.

Because that's exactly... that's exactly what you've been doing your whole life: following orders, not rebelling, not fighting - and when it came down to it... you did nothing.

You understand them more than you want to admit - more than you should.

"What do we do now?" Her voice almost breaks under the weight of her question.

And then you say something you've never said before - something that feels wrong and yet is more honest than anything you've said before: "I don't know."

And yet - here you are.

Sitting next to Hoppy. Staring into the blazing flames engulfing the remains of the train.

Not acting. Not calculating. Just waiting. As if you had nothing else to do.

In the back of your mind - Olivia's voice. Not really there, just an echo from your memory.

"Maybe this journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't really you. "

 You remember her tone of voice when she said it.

Relaxed, as always. But something about it hit you, even if you ignored it at the time. But now - now it sticks. Like a foreign object in your head. Something that shouldn't be there. Something you can't ignore.

You open your mouth slowly. A hesitation that you don't know from yourself. "I think..."

Hoppy lifts her head. Her ears twitch slightly, her eyes meet yours. There's a hint of surprise in them - as if she didn't expect you to say anything at all.

And then:

"I think...I miss Olivia."

---

Holy shit, what the hell was that?! The train crashed, that was to be expected - but the character development? So much in just one chapter! Okay, seriously, you don't find happiness at the end of an adventure, but somewhere in the middle. And since the middle of four is ... two ... okay, I'll stop with the bad jokes. The development from bored genius to something completely new is really fascinating. And it only gets more intense. I'm delighted that you've read the chapter - feel free to leave support!

[nagisreader]

whumptober 2024 - day 1

technically the end of blaze’s story this year? wrote this before i decided to do the prompts out of order (may end up tweaking it by the end of the month lol)

[lone-starlight]

[It's late. It's late and Star should be asleep, snuggled in their quilt alongside Diamond. But they aren't. Instead they're at the window, staring out at the snow and trying to keep their tears and laboured breaths quiet, trying to keep the bile down their throat after their latest nightmare]

[They were in that hospital again - just as pristine and sterile as they remembered - and they were in that god forsaken hallway again. Having gone through this so many times before, they'd practically memorized the locations of the most noteworthy items - the key, the wire necklace, and a star-shaped pendant they found in a more recent venture. It pushed like a button and had stray wires sticking out of it... they have a pretty good idea as to what it was for, but it still makes them sick to think about it for too long]

[They immediately went for the key this time and ran to unlock the door - a game of chance, really, sometimes they win and unlock some buried horrible memories, or they get mauled by the Security... it feels wrong to call the thing torturing them in their dreams "Seki" so... they don't]

[Just as they put the key through the lock, they heard it; that horrible, static growl at the end of the hall, now accompanied by beeping, the thing's attempt at speech that they can't understand. It started to dash on all fours down the hall as Star scrambled with the key to open the door. Those claws scrape at their mind as it gets closer and closer until-]

[Star finally opened the door and slammed it behind them. They expect the monster to slam into it, try to claw its way in, but... there's nothing. No slam, no scratching, not even his growl or morse speech]

[They didn't wanna check to see if it was still there, so they locked the door and turned to the room they've walked into]

[It's the mall again, this time they've walked in through one of the tunnel doors leading to the various shops and food court booths, the same one Ranboo and Charlie ran away from the drones through. So, they assumed they were in Charlie's booth, just without all the streaming equipment - not surprising, in their memory it didn't exist yet]

[Hopping the counter, Star looks around. It's different being in the mall than seeing it on the sidelines, it all feels so much more daunting, making their skin crawl from the feeling of eyes all around them]

[Without any goal in mind - except staying away from that operation room, you know what you saw - they wander around the mall, looking at the various sets of shows, now long past. There was a room covered in sand, cacti, and had what looked to be an old western saloon. There was what looked to be a rooftop set - surprising, Star half expected Showfall to stick their actors on an actual rooftop for those scenes, but maybe they had one too many "accidents" with that. It's probably a bit more difficult to put someone back together once they splat]

[There was a set that stood out to them the most, but they couldn't think of why - now though, they have a couple of guesses. It was a simple set, just a bench in what looked to be a park, a little piece of outside in the company's isolation, complete with trees, grass, and a dirt trail, the walls covered with beautiful but clearly fake scenery. On the bench, facing away from Star, two men were sat, looking at their fake view. G'uncle Germ and Papa, the memory provided. They never would've guessed otherwise - Puzzler looks... so different, almost like a completely different person... maybe he was. And their Dad... they still can't see his face, still can't remember]

[When the man on the left talks, however, it is undoubtedly their Great Uncle Jeremy. He clacks his cane against the floor]

"... Are you truly sure about this plan of yours?"

[Their... their Dad just nods his head]

"Mhm."

"What if it fails?"

"It won't. I've thought of every possibility, and I've made sure that this will work. Have a bit of faith in me, will ya, old man?"

[Star hears the smile in his voice and tries to imagine it... but come up blank]

[There's another clack and their dad quickly slides away from The Puzzler, laughing but rubbing his shin in pain]

"Be serious, Lucian!"

"I am! Everything will be fine, Jeremy! So relax!"

"How do you expect me to relax if you refuse to clue me in on this scheme of yours! This could very well be a suicide mission and you won't tell me."

"..."

[Lucian turns to the slouched man to his left and rests a hand on his shoulder. Star can't see his face, but they can imagine the sorrow and guilt from his voice]

"Jeremy... you know why I can't tell you. Hell, it was risky enough to even tell you I had a plan to get out of here in the first place, you know this."

"... Yes, yes I'm aware. I apologize, my friend. I just... cannot help but worry."

"Heh, these shows are really bringing out the father in you."

"As you insist on reminding me, I am but an old, old man."

[They both chuckle to themselves, looking back at the wall. There's a door, clearly printed over, but it is definitely there... Star can feel the two men staring at it]

"Just... promise me one thing, Lucian."

"Of course, Jer. Anything."

[The cane clicks against the floor a couple of times, as Star hears the faintest sound of electricity]

"When you leave this place... do not return, at any and all costs."

[Lucian is silent, staring at the printed pond in front of him, considering his friend's words]

"Lucian, please. This place is... it is no place for a father and his child, I know this just as well as you do. And Aster... that little star needs you to be there for them. When you leave, take them far, far away from here, travel across the country if you must. Just... don't turn back. Move on from this prison, forget about us... promise me this, Lucky."

[The Puzzler has now taken the taller man's hands in his own, forcing Lucian to look him in the eyes]

"Please, my boy..."

[Their father pulls one hand out of the old man's grasp and wraps his arm around Jeremy, holding him gently. This felt like a goodbye, a personal moment Star was intruding on, but they couldn't bring themself to look away]

"... I promise."

[Finally, quietly and carefully, Star backs away from the park set, feeling queasy as they turn their back on the two men]

[He promised... he promised and he lied. He must've, right? If he hadn't lied, then he would've been there, he would've watched them grow up, he would've been there to help with the bullying, sing them to sleep, hug them when nothing felt real, hold them when they needed his strength. He would have been home, but he went back. There's no other explanation, or rather, there is but it didn't make sense. Why would he leave again? Why did he go back?]

[Star was spiralling - truly feat within a dream, but they just love to do the impossible - walking through the mall, not thinking of where they were going...]

[Which is probably why they ran right into a drone as they rounded a corner]

"Shit-"

[Before they could run, the drone grabbed them by the wrist, yanking them towards it as several more drones came to circle around and grab them, tugging and dragging them to...]

[A grate rattles. They look at it and see Security, their usual tormentor, desperately yanking at the door of its cage, screaming and crying for, presumably, its own freedom. In any other situation they'd feel bad for the thing, but right now they're in such a panic, the only thing they're thinking of is just more confusing]

[This isn't a memory, they've never seen SecuriTV outside of The Social Experiments, they know this. Somehow, they know this, somehow they know it just didn't exist during their stay. But how, why?]

[They don't have enough time before they're thrown into a pitch black room and shutting the door. Trying the handle proves to be fruitless, so they just start banging on the door, screaming and crying and just generally being childish... before they hear a voice again]

"Oh, Little Star... how many times must we go over this..."

[His voice is so sickly sweet, they can taste it like poison burning their throat shut. They don't want to look at him - if they look that makes him real - but the man clutches their shoulder to face him, then grabs their chubby face in one hand, forcing them look him in the eye]

[That mask... that wretched fucking mask remains unreadable, but the eyes behind it have a cruel sort of amusement in them, as if he was taking joy in seeing their fear. He probably was, with or without the mask]

"You just never learn, do you?"

[He turns and drags them to that table, not the table, please, please, please, anything but the table, I'll be good, I swear, I'll be good. Please, just lemme go back to my Papa!]

"Oh, Starlight... I'm afraid it's far too late for that."

[Too late]

[Too late, too late too late Too Late]

[He straps them down to the operating table and, while flicking a syringe, stares at them while they struggle and cry and Beg]

"You're just always too late, aren't you? Perhaps you can learn one day."

[Aster begs, begs, begs, and begs, crying for their Papa, G'uncle Germ, for Barlie, but the man - can he even be called a man anymore? - he just chuckles as he approaches with the large needle]

"Let's see how long you last this time, little one."

[The needle jabs their arm and they can't even focus on that pain before the liquid starts burning in their veins, their blood, their whole being. Everything hurts, everything's burning, please just make it stop, please, please please please-]

[That's when they woke up, not with a scream, thank god, but they were still drenched in sweat and tears. They'd carefully extracted themself from Diamond and their quilt, praying to whoever is still out there that the kid doesn't wake up. They didn't, again, thank god, and now... here they are. Sitting at a windowsill feeling like absolute garbage]

[They don't want to write that dream down for the dream logs... in fact, they just wanna forget the dream entirely. But they know they won't, not with a dream like that. And now, they just have more questions, questions they also don't want to think about]

[So, instead, they just curl up into themself, and cry]

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

c!dream threw his bestie a birthday party this year! isn’t he such a good friend to c!tommy?

(image id: A digital drawing done in a painterly style of the characters of Tommy and Dream. Tommy is a teenage boy sitting at a table, with a birthday cake with a candle shaped like the number 19 in front of him. He is covered in bruises and scars, and is missing an eye. His face is expressionless as he stares at the cake. His hair is done in a long braid, and is more white than blond. Dream is a masked man holding onto Tommy's shoulders- his mask is askew to show him giving a proud smile. He’s wearing a green cloak, and his dirty blond hair is streaked with grey and white. He is scarred and also missing an eye, and the scars on his face match with cracks on his mask. The two are sitting in a prison cell, and there is a balloon in the back with the same smiley face as Dream's mask)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Preserve Us

You know how in conservation biology you sometimes try to introduce a pair to be mated and one will just... just fuckin' merc' the other? Just absolutely obliterate them in a hissing, growling, nightmare ball of fury? Before anyone can stop them? Territorial and (to put it lightly) "uninterested", dispite your desperate desire to save their species from extinction, and need for them to get frisky?

I know.

Holy SHIT do I know.

There's a lot of reasons. Ways you can (hopefully) get around it. But first? Is finding out WHY it happened. Was it just the one? The environment? Were they sick? Or... as is the case sometimes, did they decide their Handler was their mate? Some species only mate once. Are loyal for life. You gotta work around that.

Which is all well and fine and good.

When we're talking about ANIMALS.

Non-sentient, non-sapient animals! Not ALIEN SPECIES! What the ABSOLUTE FRESH HELL did they expect from me!? Compliance?! This was UNETHICAL! Monstrous! I had been trying to slip my gaurds long enough to radio for help SINCE I GOT HERE.

I hope the fuckers ROTTED in whatever their Gods considered a Hell.

"Conservation facility" my ENTIRE ASS. You can't run CONSERVATION EFFORTS like this on SENTIENTS. Eugenics loving, atrocity fetishizing, immoral BASTARDS!!! And they KNEW it too. They HAD too! Or they wouldn't be HIDING it! Fucking KIDNAPPING scientists! Biologists! Doctors!

I was on my ways to study Lekku monkeys!

God...

I'm? I'm so tired of being pissed.

Furious and outraged and SCARED. Horrified and sick. There are PEOPLE here. Kids! And I don't... oh god, I don't... H-How LONG has this been going ON? Why did no one NOTICE?

Every day I feel my heart break. The desire to scream and scream and never STOP, grow inside me. I have to get out. I have to get us ALL out. Get these people FREE. Do SOMETHING. But I am forced to "conserve" the species assigned to me. The group assigned to me.

It's killing my love for the field. Making a mockery of everything I worked for.

I don't... I don't think my hands will ever be clean again.

But I have to help. Do everything I can. Make hell a little kinder, if nothing else. At least while I figure out a way OUT. My group deserves better. The groups I do not work with, deserve better.

I disguise games as "testing". Pages and pages of meaningless numbers ans scores. INSIST that enrichment is the key to success. Diet is EVERYTHING. Oh, and habitat? Well unless we can mimic their habitat there's no WAY they'll "breed".

No, no, using machines would stress them out too much.

It's like you DONT want babies!

Who's the expert here? That's RIGHT! Dr. Cho, but FAILING her and like five other people? Me. And I know for a FACT they are pulling the same scam. We ALL fucking hate you. Dr. Cho has KIDS, you FUCKS. Hasn't seen her son in YEARS thanks to you bastards. He was engaged. She's probably missed his WEDDING thanks to you!

Getting distracted, spiraling again, gotta stop DOING that.

It wont help anyone.

But God, if my brain doesn't slowly feel like it's shorting out the longer I'm here. Stress is called the silent killer for a reason. Or what that something else? Fuck. I can't even look it up! Bastards cut us off from the galactic web. Full information blackout. Because of COURSE they did... can't risk us rightfully calling for help.

Getting the Feds involved to shut this hell pit of a black site DOWN. Or a "whatever it truely is" site. Because it sure as SHIT has nothing to do with conservational biology. Except maybe the abuse of it.

But that doesn't help me right now.

Focus, damn it!

The Yanderens. Old, absurdly rare, nearly extinct, with a home planet they'd reduced to uninhabitable wastelands millennia ago due too... something. No one knew what. There had definitely been fighting. It WAS documented they were excellent fighters. Ruthless ones at that. But it was ALSO documented they strongly pack bonded.

There had been a lot of strongly worded warnings on what few documation my captures were able to find, translate, then shove at me. But honestly? They said the same thing about humans. Ooooh big scary persistent hunters~ oh nooooo! Watch out for the omnivores with a history of war! Sins of the father and we are defined by our diets! Class systems! Let's all JUDGE each ooooootheeeeer~!

Yeah, no. Not buying it.

Especially when the "warnings" were so damn vague and poorly documented. All "the HORRORS!" and "we barely SURVIVED!". Cause honestly? The Yanderens I was watching over? Easily the most mild and temperate individuals I had ever met. No tantrums from the kids, no big emotional meltdowns, just curiosity and at WORST? Mild frustration.

It made everything ten thousand times worse for me, that these poor people were in this hellish place. They were calm. Curious. Meant for greater, BETTER things! They should be out, playing and learning. Exploring and enjoying peaceful strolls in some art gallery or zen garden somewhere! Not... not this sterile fucking LAB.

But then M-17 loses his SHIT.

And now I'm kinda panicking. Because F-6 is not just dead, God rest her soul (she didn't deserve this. Oh god. She was so SWEET.), but M-17 might just be too, soon. If I can't find out what HAPPENED. Because if he's "feral" or "diseased" or whatever other horrifying terminology they end up using? They DO something about it.

And I can't actually stop them.

I... I don't know if it was a trauma response. Or I did something wrong. I could PROBABLY pass it off as my needing more studies into their observed "mating habits"? That... that I somehow... turned it... uuuuh... dominance battle? Shit. Where are my notes?!

F-6 is DEAD and its all my fault.

She was such a cuddle fiend too. Always excited to hear about my studies, from before. My life. Wanted to join me after we got out of here. I never should have let her volunteer. Granted, she wouldn't have taken no for an answer. Wanted to spend the pregnancy plotting our escape. Asked me to help raise the kid once we got out. Had a whole grand plan. But I...And I...

God...

I should have said NO. Insisted. It was just so hard, when F-6 had made it all sound like it would be okay. Like she had a plan and all I need to do was trust her. Believe in her. Then we could be free.

I had hoped M-17 would work best. He was always the most agreeable and quick on the uptake. I figured... well... ha ha. God, I'm such an IDIOT. I should have CHECKED. Who KNOWS what happened before I arrived? What triggered I just accidentally rammed my foot into? FUCK! I sweep everything from me desk onto the ground. Don't give I shit that I'll have to clean it up later,

I had figured M-17 would be COOL with it.

This place is getting to me, isn't it?

Why the FUCK would anyone be COOL with getting jumped? Bred like an animal? Shoved in some random ass room, with a vaguely familiar stranger, and told "now fuck. We want a literal litter from you two"? All while some biologist watchs and makes god damned NOTES!?

Of course he fought back. OF COURSE he didn't stop!

The only one there he could trust was himself.

I...I'm becoming a monster... aren't I?

Oh god.

At least we're in the satellite facility. The gaurds are definitely going to rat me out, but the news will take time to filter back. And... and the Yanderens being so "dangerous" might work in my favor. I... I can spin this. I HAVE to spin this. I can't let TWO people die for my fuck up.

I promised myself I would get as many people out as I could. I refuse to back out now. Even if that means crying, puking, then going out there to lie my ASS off. This was TOTALLY NORMAL. In fact, expected! Yep! It means that's we've determined that M-17 is the alpha Yanderen! A thing that is both REAL and possible to BE!

I rinse my mouth, stomach empty. Crying has exhausted me. But I can't give up. Too many lives count on me now. I... I wish so badly I was just a nobody again. Just some random biology student, trying to make a name for herself. Being "important" is a CURSE.

I try not to chug my water as I half stumble out of the glorified shoebox that is my bathroom into the much larger and Fancier CLOSET that is my room. Truely, no expense spared, for the captives they ripped away from their lives. So glad I am here willingly and of my own volition.

I gather myself. Finally ready to go and try to untangle the mess I have made of everything. When a deep booming alarm rattles my bones. The lights flickering to red. Blast doors slide down, SLAM shut over the transparent recessed bit of wall that counts as my window, the door to the rest of the facility.

Trapping me inside my small room.

Almost immediately after, an EXPLOSION rocks the world hard enough to knock me from my feet. Only the bed's limited padding keeping me from a nasty concussion. The edge of it still ramming painfully into my shoulder. Another explosion. Then another. I sit for a long, terrible, second stunned.

The moment passes.

I scramble on my hands and knees for the in facility communication device that I had knocked from my desk in anger, grief. Not daring to stand lest I be thrown down again. I manage to find it as the world shakes again for the fifth time. Followed by what sounds like gun fire out in the halls.

I fling myself back towards my shitty little bunk. Drag every bit of padding and protection I can, down and under it with me. If the roof goes? I want shock absorption. If shots get through the door? I want something to slow those blasts down. Anything. ANYTHING! To increase my fucked chances of surviving.

I burrito up and wriggle back as deep as I can. The world muffled but ending just outside my crawlspace. Then I desperately try to get one of the others on the line. I got nothing but chaos. Running. Running. Hiding. And Dead.

Dead. Dying.

Remember me.

And GONE.

Some of them fighting with their groups too freedom. Some being targeted right along side their captors. Others savaged by the ACTUAL animals they had been working with, the one's Galacticly deemed too dangerous for effort like this. Someone or something had set EVERYONE free. A simultaneous attack on all fronts that our captors could not put down or escape.

The Yanderens were out there.

Oh god. Please let them be okay. They wer-

My thoughts ground to a halt as M-32 LAUNCHED his tiny body onto the screen of one of the security feeds I was desperately looking through. F-6 had figured out how to get us a backdoor to them a long time ago. M-32 was just a kid. A small, soft, cuddly little thing that loved to lean against me and crawl into my lap. All cherubic cheeks and cute little curls. Shy!

Yet I watched... in mounting horror... as like a lion on some unfortunate animal, he landed on a gaurds back. Small arms going around his body in a mockery of a hug. Head tilting so he could BITE at the back of the man's neck, small hands clawing and ripping at weak points in his armor, as he screamed. Thrashed. Tried desperately to get M-32 OFF of him.

There was so much blood.

My hands were shaking. So much, I accidentally hit the next screen button. Jerked my thumb back. But... but oh god. There was F-26. Using the butt of a rifle to slam down against the head of a scientist. Again and again and again. Long after the begging and thrashing stopped. I flipped again. M-4? No... please not M-4. Not the soft spoken and wise...

I watched as he grinned, a cold thing, and shot out another joint. His foot on the chest of the head scientist who had moved him to a different group. In the background, his supervisor lay dead. They had not died quickly. The head scientist was begging. A mess of tears and pain. M-4 shot another joint, pressing his foot down harder.

I wanted to be sick.

I flipped again. And again. And AGAIN.

H...Had I known them at ALL? Like demons wearing the faces of those I'd known. People I'd trusted. Not a SINGLE ONE was... oh... oh god. F-6. Had she been too? Would I have ever known? Was THIS what all those warnings meant? I couldn't think. Couldn't breath. Had... Had never had a panic attack but... BUT-!

I wheezed.

Shook.

"Oh, Clever giiiirl~" A familiar voice sang, before a blood splattered face flickered into being on the screen in my hands. "Where aaaare yoooou~?"

M-17. He'd somehow managed to take over the security cameras. That or the communication feed. His eyes were bright. A grin on his face like I'd never seen from him. ALIVE in a way I'd never seen him. The excitement transformed his face. No longer softly doll like, but something DANGEROUS. Unhinged. His eyes dilated and deadly teeth on display.

"Come out, come out wherever you aaaare~. I have so much to TELL you! We have so much to DO! I'm going to make you MINE sweetheart! No one else can have you. So come out. I won't hurt you much, I promise! Just gotta make you mine then we can leave okay~?"

Furious snarls echoed through the halls. Male and female alike. Old and young. I... I recognized each of those voices. What was HAPPENING?

"Aaaah? Did you TRASH really think you DESERVED her? Ha! Please." M-17 grin was cruel. Mocking. "You don't have a chance in hell of taking what's MINE."

His eyes seems to shift away from unseen enemies and back, somehow, to me. Warming to something euphoric. Resting his head on his hand as if to consider me. His fingers spread, stroking his own face, as if the desire to TOUCH was simply too great. As if what he was imagining was bleeding over into the real world.

"Oh clever girl~ my clever, clever girl~♡ I can't wait til it's just you and ME. Start think of where you want to go first, okay? We're going to get married. Have that child you wanted me for. All the things you ever dreamed~♡ I'm going to have you all to myself. No more annoying others. Ah~ can't wait to find you soon!"

"But first?"

"May the best of us Win."