I haven't moved in ten minutes.
Not 'cause I'm tired. I just... don't get it.
Yesterday, I was limping through Vicarria with a bruised jaw and no money. Some gas station guy handed me a burger out of pity. A stray mutt stole it. I threw a napkin at the bastard and kept walking like that meant something.
Now I'm in a suite.
Not a room. A suite.
The floors don't creak. The bed's massive. Everything smells clean without smelling fake. Central air hums like it's breathing for me.
If I want food, I just ask.
Doesn't matter what. It shows up. Hot. Perfect.
There's clothes in the drawers. All my size. Tags still on.
Even a window.
Big one. Shows the skyline. Past Vicarria. All the way out to Dregmoor.
I can see it.
The rot. The smog. The orange sky that never clears.
It looks... small from here.
Like someone else's life.
I don't know how to feel about that.
And then there's Myla.
She was in the car yesterday. Saw me. And looked away.
Didn't flinch. Didn't help.
I don't know if she set me up. But the timing's perfect. Too perfect.
My gut says yes. My brain agrees.
But the part of me that remembers her smile?
That part's screaming no.
Still. I woke up in a place that didn't feel human. Not glass. Not metal. Just... rich. Like tech pretending to be art. Everything shifted. Everything moved like it was alive. Like it could kill me if it wanted to.
Silas, some rich guys kid brought me here. After testing me. After screwing with the Bonecord.
Now he wants me to help him find monsters.
Evolved sea beasts. Ethlanaqua. Variants. Supposedly impossible to kill.
In return, I get this life.
The suite. The food. The quiet.
All I have to do is obey.
I stare at the ceiling. Blank.
I don't know if I'm a guest.
Or a pet.
Whatever I am doesn't matter.
"I get to take hot baths… for as long as I want. This. Place. RULES!" I shouted.
Bit too loud. Whatever. No one cares.
I grab a towel and stomp barefoot across the clean tile. My bathroom is big enough to echo. It feels illegal.
"Eheheheheh," I giggle.
Five minutes later, I'm neck-deep in bubbles. Don't even know how they got there. Didn't touch anything fancy. Still, the water's hot. Stays hot. My legs are stretched full-length and still don't touch the other side.
The bath feels like it was made for some spoiled royal brat.
…Guess I'm that brat now.
Then it starts.
Buzzing.
On my neck.
I sigh and tilt my head. "Oh. It's this thing."
The thick metal collar. Spiked. Heavy. Silas slapped it on me yesterday like it was jewelry. Said it was for communication, tracking, remote access, observation, and 'compliance.'
Whatever the hell that last one means.
"How'd he say this works…" I mutter.
I reach up. Tap one of the spikes with two fingers.
It clicks.
"Vey."
Silas.
His voice leaks out smooth through the collar, like silk laced with warning.
"I see you understand how to use the transmitter. That's good. Stop whatever you're doing and exit your room. Someone is right outside waiting to bring you here. Be quick out."
It cuts.
I groan.
"Could've just let me enjoy the water for ten more minutes, rich boy..."
Still. I sit up. Wash down. Get out.
Time to suit up.
I dig through the wardrobe. All of it high-end. Most of it too extra. But I find something that doesn't make me gag.
Another sleeveless hoodie. Black, but lined in silver thread. Reflective when the light hits right. The hood's deep enough to vanish in. The zipper glows faint red when pulled up. The inside is lined in soft mesh that probably costs more than my entire block.
Pants are jet-black with embedded straps across the thighs. Not buckles. Something magnetic. Silent. Seamless.
Boots? Chrome-toed. Tread like they're made for walls instead of floors.
I grab a black wrist wrap, thick and loose, and slide it over my left hand. Don't know what it's for. Doesn't matter.
Then the Bonecord. Still wrapped in that black fabric. That clingy, metal-silk whatever.
I don't question it.
I wrap my arm. Tight. From wrist to shoulder.
It pulses once. Soft. Contained.
Then I look in the mirror.
Rich. Stylish. Weaponized.
I smirk.
"Guess I'm o
ne of them now."
I step toward the door.
Let's see what my boss wants.
I step out of the suite.
She's there waiting.
White uniform. Clean. Sharp. Rose gold trim along the edges, wrapping her figure like it was poured on. The fabric doesn't fold—it clings. Her gloves are spotless. Her boots don't make a sound. And the mask covering her face is smooth, expressionless, tinted like blood left in snow.
She turns without a word and walks.
I follow.
The hall stretches long, quiet, too clean. The lights don't glow—they hum. The walls curve gently, no corners, just flow. I can hear my own footsteps even though the floor looks soft.
We reach the lift.
A circular plate, wide enough for a small room. Spiral stairs wrap around it, going down instead of up. A narrow gap splits the platform from the stairs—just wide enough to fall through if someone was careless.
I step forward.
Then I'm not on the ground anymore.
My collar's caught.
Feet dangling.
The bitch lifted me. One hand. No strain.
I grab her wrist on reflex. Doesn't help.
She doesn't look at me, but her voice leaks out from behind the mask. Calm. Cruel.
"You reek of Dregmoor. Of rot and garbage. No matter how many hot baths they give you, the stench won't leave."
I grit my teeth.
She keeps going.
"You think the master's attention means anything? You're a test subject. A disposable one. One misstep, and you're gone."
I stare at her through the eyeholes in her mask.
"You call him 'master.' That's not normal. You his pet?"
She freezes.
Her grip tightens for a second. The temperature in the air drops. Something ugly builds behind the mask.
Then she speaks again.
"Oops. Looks like your little prize is about to fall off the Escalator..."
I brace.
Footsteps approach. Another figure. Male. Masked.
"01663. What are you doing?"
She stiffens.
"He leaned too close to the gap. I caught him."
"He's Silas's guest. Drop him. Now."
"Tch."
She tosses me onto the platform. Steps on without a glance.
The lift rises.
Silence.
Then, finally:
"You poor things always act like pests. You break what we build. Then beg us to fix it."
I breathe out slow.
'Not my problem.'
I wait. Eyes forward.
The top gets closer.
As the lift climbed, lights flickered on one by one.
Rows of transparent panels lit up behind the spiral stairs. Not glass. Something heavier. Like ore, still half-formed. Smooth, cloudy, alive in a way stone shouldn't be.
Inside each hollowed-out wall?
Creatures.
Frozen in place. Suspended in their own twisted displays. Some curled tight like they were still breathing. Others bent backwards, jaws open, limbs extended. Fins. Wings. Horns. One had vines for legs. Another had no skin.
All of them locked in stillness.
I didn't know if they were dead. Or if something was just keeping them paused. Either way, the air felt heavier now.
The lift stopped.
Silas stood at the top. Waiting.
One hand behind his back. The other holding some kind of smooth black tablet. The second he noticed us, the tablet dissolved into thin lines of smoke.
He looked at her first.
Then at me.
His expression didn't change.
"What happened?"
She bowed slightly. Voice syrup-sweet.
"Nothing of concern, master. He was simply slow. I corrected it."
My eyes narrowed.
She wasn't even trying to lie well.
Silas looked at me.
And waited.
I blinked once.
The thought crossed my mind.
Lie. Say nothing. Keep the suite. The food. The baths. The warm clothes.
She'd probably make my life harder, but I could just avoid her.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
Looked at her.
The way she was standing.
All poised. All proper. Like she was better than both of us. And Silas should be thanking her for babysitting me.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Sighed.
"…She picked me up by the collar, told me I was trash, and nearly dropped me into the damn machinery."
Silas tilted his head.
I wasn't done.
"She called me an experiment. Said I'd never matter. Called you 'master' like some freaky worship dog-slave combo. Then tried to cover it up with the worst lie I've heard in my life."
She twitched.
"And I'm being very generous right now."
Silence.
Silas blinked once.
Then turned to her.
"Apologize."
Her entire posture broke.
The silence cracked around her like glass. Her breath caught. One hand subtly clenched into a fist.
"…Master… I…"
He didn't say anything else. Didn't threaten. Didn't even look mad.
Just watched.
That was worse.
She lowered her head toward me. Like it physically hurt her.
"I apologize… for my inappropriate behavior."
I gave her the deadest stare I could manage.
Then slowly tilted my head, squinting a bit, and quietly mouthed the words:
"Master says what?"
She flinched.
Her jaw locked so hard I swore I heard her molars grind.
Silas turned away like none of that just happened.
"Your behavior disappoints me, 01663."
He tapped something on his wrist.
The collar on her neck sparked once.
She let out a breathless gasp and crumpled to her knees. Not screaming. Not twitching.
Just… gone for a second.
He didn't look back.
"Don't ruin what I've deemed valuable," he said flatly. "We're not replacing him."
I stepped past her.
Didn't look down.
She was still breathing. Just not talking.
Good.
Silas led me forward, deeper into the hallway. The light behind us dimmed. New ones came on ahead.
I followed.
At the end of the corridor, a huge square cha
mber waited behind thick walls.
The door opened.
Quiet.
No tech sound. No lock hiss. Just a soft shift.
I stepped inside.