Chapter Text
You wake up in the dark.
Well, it's not pitch black—dim red lights allow you to see—but you have no idea where you are, why you're here, and anything before this exact moment is extremely fuzzy. So fuzzy it almost hurts trying to recall, so you leave it be. For now at least.
Your arm is sore; your forearm twinges quite painfully as you sit up and note your surroundings. In the small submarine, you observe it's you and four other people. You're all in ugly orange prison jumpsuits and have huge metal collars around your neck. Immediately, sweat starts rolling down your back as you take in your current predicament. You are quite scrawny and obviously much, much younger than the men in front of you. Each look like they came straight from prison. Gruff, older men who looked absolutely worn from life. The one closest to you was significantly more pale then the others, his beard was almost white, but from the tattoos and thickness of his arms, he somehow still looked really strong...
You realize you've been caught staring when he suddenly turns his head and bares crooked teeth at you in a snarl. You quickly avert your gaze, electing instead to nervously play with your clammy hands.The other three, equally built convicts (which does NOT make you feel better), stir at the front of the submarine a couple feet away. One swears something in what you assume to be Spanish, and in turn the one closest to him mumbles something of agreement in English.
The last just eerily sits up and blankly stares in front of himself. It reminds you of something you just can't put a name to. The crooked, snarled man in front of you shoots up suddenly, trying to wrestle the collar off his own neck. He's... really working up a sweat, grunting and twisting painfully at the collar. Everyone in the cabin stares. The only sound is whatever water they're going through outside and the echo of this mans grunting in exertion.
He manages to do something, you suppose, as abruptly a loud alarm goes off from his collar.
"Any prisoner attempting to remove their jumpsuit will be executed. You have been warned."
The bearded man stills, wiping the sweat from his brow, before going absolutely apeshit, kicking and cursing the wall of the submarine.
"Fuck you Urban Shade!" he spat before quite literally hocking a loogie on the closest thing with buttons.
He really isn't doing any damage to the console, you note as he continues to try and kick the walls of the submarine. It just looks really painful for his foot. The prisoner at the front says something in Spanish to his friend. Apparently, it was hilarious, because despite their situation, his friend doubles over in laughter. This only seems to infuriate the old man further, and he becomes more frantic with his wailing on the metal.
A different voice sounds out, this time from the submarine itself. The more female, robotic voice spoke clinically and her words reverberated loudly through each of their eardrums:
"This is a friendly reminder that this submarine is outfitted with an Internal Defense System turret. Do not continue to interact with the console."
The old man flips off the general direction of the voice and continues to demand to be let out.
At this point, all of the prisoners, save for the guy still just staring at nothing, at the front are mocking this guy, obviously finding great amusement in this display. The voice rings out again, with simultaneous machinery whirring over your head. Activating..? You look up and see a square hole pop out of the ceiling... with a machine gun attached to it.
You're the only one that notices.
"It would seem as if you do not have the cognitive function required to do your tasks. Please stand by for execution."
The machine gun is deafening as it empties its entire clip into the man. The pair of prisoners ahead flinch away, cursing.
It's not funny anymore, it seems. The seated prisoner didn't even flinch... continuing to stare monotonously at nothing in front of him. Creepy much?...
Your eyes are transfixed at the... light show.
The bearded man falls to the ground, gaping with bullet holes as blood pools under him. His gaze drifts towards you as gurgled breath leaves him. He closes his eyes.
You pull your feet to your chest to stay away as it spreads, eyes wide. You didn't even realize your hands were clapped to your ears instinctively until they began to twinge in protest. You pull them away slowly, trying to force the tremor from your tiny hands.
Silence was restored.
At this moment, the submarine lurches upward and rocks as if you were on top of the waves rather than under the ocean.
The AI speaks again:
"Now arriving. Please stand back from the hatch."
The two prisoners at the front scramble away from the hatch, trying to put an equal amount of distance between it and the dead prisoner behind them—not eager to join the guy, it seemed.
The large submarine door opened, and the light from outside it was almost blinding compared to the low red light they'd been in. The blank stare guy never budged, but now that the hatch was open, he scrambled out of the submarine. He left several black skids on the immediate concrete in his haste. The pair he sat closest to watched him go, waited a beat, then stepped out as well.
You sat there a second... unsure about it all.
When the AI repeated itself,
"Please exit the submarine."
,this got you up in a flash.
You took one last glance at the still bleeding corpse in front of you. The old man's eyes remained closed, but his messed-up teeth were much more visible now with the lighting outside.The image of his body seared into your mind. You... don't think it's something you would forget anytime soon.
You forcefully averted your eyes with one hand and carefully stepped out of the submarine.
---
It's well-lit, at least.
You take in the exposed pipes running along the walls, a faint sound of ventilation systems somewhere behind the steel. A loading dock of some kind..
The only marking in the room is a large, faint #13 painted overhead. The other two prisoners are just ahead, watching uselessly as the quiet one—Eyeball, as you dubbed him (he never seemed to blink)—walks around the dock with purpose. Like he's looking for something.
Well. You’re just as useful as the other two at the moment as you shuffle from foot to foot, still rattled from the brutality witnessed minutes before.
With no idea what you're doing, you just stand there too, watching the guy. He’s more lean than the others. The kind of muscles an older man has when he used to work out, but doesn’t anymore. It’s kinda there—but definitely not juicy or anything.
He looks like an average white guy, save for the uncannily blank expression and the whole never-blinking thing. Honestly, you don’t think he’s looked at any of you once. Just acts like he’s completely alone.
You're still watching him when a loud voice rings out overhead from a PA system.
This time, it’s a male voice rather than the lady from the ship. Were these real people or recordings? You weren't afforded time to ponder the question as just as soon as it came to you, speakers all around began their monologue.
“As discussed during your briefing, your primary objective is to secure and bring back the Crystal.”
You blink. What briefing?
“Your secondary objective is to secure as many loose assets as possible.”
“You’ve been equipped with a diving tank, allowing you to navigate any potentially flooded areas.”
You feel the weight tugging at your back now that he mentions it. Heavy. Unfamiliar.
“You’ve also been equipped with a Crystal Container, used for securing the crystal if—erh, when—you reach it.”
You catch the hesitation. “If.” Not subtle.
“You have permission to use any additional equipment you may find.”
“Our Navi-Path AI system has marked the shortest route possible to your primary objective.”
The words sound too slick. Too rehearsed. Like they’ve been said hundreds of times before. You get the sense you’re just another expendable team in a long line.
“It should be noted that you’ll mostly be left on your own, as we are currently busy managing multiple teams. We will tune in from time to time, if it matters in the moment.”
Translation: Don’t expect help.
“Open the door and proceed when ready.”
Then nothing. Just silence and the sound of the nearby water lapping up at the concrete. Nobody said a word after the message, either from fear or from lack of knowing what to even say to that.
Eyeball never stopped searching the entire time the guy was talking. He keeps checking drawers, peeking behind boxes like he knows what he’s doing.
You notice the two friends exchange a look. You’re not sure what it means.
Then, unfortunately, you make eye contact with the taller one; he smiles at you. You’re sure he thinks it’s friendly, but It only makes your heart drop a little in your chest. He’s beefy, with tanned skin visibly very sweaty. And his eyes… there’s a certain gleam. Like the smile isn't exactly how he feels.
You wipe your palms on your jumpsuit, nervous.
“¿Hablas español?” he tries, smile stretching wider, pulling at his patchy beard.
You have no clue what he just said, so you just shake your head.
He frowned a little, instead nudging his friend—who hadn't really been paying attention, instead shifting uncomfortably on his toes, scanning the corners of the dock like something might come out of the shadows. His friend was much more stout. His belly protruded from his jumpsuit from the seams. His sleeves were rolled up; you noticed as you glanced down that his arms were covered in many drawings of a woman in robes holding a necklace.
You vaguely wonder who she is.
Your attention snaps back up when the chubby man spoke.
“You’re a bit... young to be down here, kid,” he says, almost like he’s unsure why he said it in the first place.
You weren't sure what to say to that...
As open your mouth to respond only to be interrupted by a loud beeping sound cutting through the air. All of you turn to see Eyeball holding a paper in front of a door labeled ‘100’.
The door makes a soft hydraulic hiss and slides open automatically, and Eyeball walks through without missing a beat.
The three of you at once understand that at least one of you has half an idea of what was going on, and wordlessly elect all at once to scramble after him.
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