I hear another one of our own fellows has fallen, some couple hundreds of miles west outside in the sands. Went insane evidently.
Ah… poor fellow… Do we have a name?
Loam.
… That big man? I thought he’d be of better mind… then again his faith in our Citadel was unmatched by any of us.
Rest in piece man. 🙏🙏🕊️🕊️🕊️
… Don’t do that, Igor. Marvin and 5459 are influencing you too much.
What’s the harm there in a little prayer?
We can bring back people. Igor.
… Oop- duh. Uhh… well you said he died up in the sands, right? That’s outside, and way out of convenient range. Not like the other guys we picked up.
The cogworks tend to leave for outside the works… It’d be an ambitious gambit, to have one ferry him back. But it could be done, perhaps? For our special ‘proper burial’ among his fellows.
Sounds like an idea. Though, we need to make sure this thing works as intended first of all, otherwise we’ve just been hoarding bodies for no reason. You said we start experiments soon?
Yes. I believe Logast should be a good first patient…
… Yes… Yes… Soon we shan’t worry about filth in its workings. It is practically complete.
It’s a regal piece of junk to be sure, with what we had to use for it. But everything necessary to the function is here. The ease of operation and loading/unloading could need work though…
We have just put it together, young Igor. We will figure solutions in time as we test and use it. All it needs now before we can begin the true fruit of our labor is some dusting.
High time to get started then, huh? How long have we been working on this big secret project of yours? I ain’t ever kept track, Arliss.
Ever since that foul roach-beast struck the Ventricas. In the days since, there has been an invasion from the lobsters of the west, and the traitor silkborne came out of death and slaughtered our coworkers. With the Architect now beginning an inspection of the works…
You have no idea how glad I am we can begin, are you? So much death down here, and to what end? Damnation? What we have here is bigger than either of us, Igor. It will undo what our mortal limits and luck set for us.
Our faith goes to this great machine of ours, of which only we can operate… No one will know of what greatness we try.
Bills QB Josh Allen day-to-day with right foot injury
Alaina GetzenbergDec 22, 2025, 06:27 PM ET
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Alaina Getzenberg covers the Buffalo Bills for ESPN. She joined ESPN in 2021. Alaina was previously a beat reporter for the Charlotte Observer and has also worked for CBS Sports and the Dallas Morning News. She is a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley.
ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. — Buffalo Bills quarterback Josh Allen is day-to-day with the…
Never so much, so condensed in a single space… It’s so much… It’s painted red and black in there.
I swear I recognize some of the dead or dying. Pat, Micheal… fucking Harvey?! I think there’s still some poor sods in there fighting… They’re screaming and shouting, at some white thing dashing back and forth in there.
Each of the bodies I looked at seemed to have died differently. Fosha had a perfect hole in her face, Pat was covered in cuts… I couldn’t even tell what happened to the poor chaps reduced to bloody, crushed chitin. What ungodly beast is in there?!
… I don’t call myself spiritual but I had a motherffFUCKING HUNCH… some bullshit was gonna go down one of these days… Is this it? My ultimate test of judgement?
… Sod it, Jack. I’ve beaten bigger things before with this ol’ twistpin… my boys need help! What am I doing cowering back here?!
Citadel be with me… This’ll be my absolution.
…
Wretched BEASTS!
(Jack drops down, slamming his twistpin into the ground in an overhead swoop. He stands up to leer at his surroundings.)
Kill my fellows, kill our handiwork… I’ll kill you my damn self! SHOW YOURSELVES!!
…
(There is no answer.)
…
It’s… i-it’s… quiet?
(Jack looks around… Bodies, all in different ways of death. The floor he stands on is wet with hemolymph… He looks up and sees the evidently-damaged Ventrica. An Underloft is perched on some scaffolding, peering over, terrified. He calls out.)
M-Murray?! What in our god’s name is going on in here?
…
R-RUN!!!
(Murray yells at him as dashing movement and sound comes from his side. A sharp pain is jammed into the joint between his head and his body, before a weight is thrown against it, kicking off him as the pointed pin recedes.)
(Jack screams as he’s knocked to the ground, twistpin rattling to a stop next to him. He crawls back up, feels his bleeding neck and glares at the ghostly, masked figure standing far in front of him.)
(He stretches his joints.)
Howling wraith…?! Oh… Go back to your tomb, specter!
RETURN TO MEMORY!
…
(The bloodied spectre proved evasive… Even with Murray and some random Underscrub gaining the courage to fight with him, soon enough they were struck down too, joining the growing collection of bodies on the floor.)
… FUCK-… Please, CEASE!
(Jack yelled, sweeping his twistpin in a large horizontal arc… No matter how fast he was, this ghost was too quick, too good. As if he was fighting something indeed incorporeal. It felt as if he was only hitting it when it wanted him to hit it, judging by the sound not of pin striking flesh but of metallic clanking, of pin meeting pin.)
(He heaved, digging his twistpin into the ground as he caught his breath after another blow… He looked up to see the ghost above him, bearing down as light and fog built up around him. He saw his demise, and retreated into his studded shell.)
(Nothing could’ve prepared him for the holy pain that came down onto his back. The feeling of even his hearty shell splintering from force and weight as a longpin pierced deep through his armor. He screams.)
(When the weight crushes him no longer, he brings himself to stand… His form has been thoroughly broken and beaten, and looks to his Twistpin still dug into the floor.)
… Please… come… on…!
(He limps towards it, to wield it once more in a desperate last stand, but feels a powerful kick hit his side… He stumbles backward, catching himself in the open Ventrica chamber.)
(He gasped… somehow he fit? His form hurt like no pain he had ever felt… The Ventrica door closed in front of him, safely sealing him inside.)
(His voice hurts to speak, to hear. He can only whimper, weakly…)
I… oh… no more… I… I failed… I fucked… up… huff…
(The ghost stares at him through the transparent door. It steps back, and withdraws its longpin… Had he lived this encounter?)
No… no I can’t… I couldn’t… T-this… uuuuggghhh… my shell…!
(He shifted his weight, there really wasn’t that much room in here with his fractured bulk.)
…
No… Nononono, wait, WAIT, STOP.
(The Ventrica chamber shook. He remembered what state it was in when he saw it earlier.)
S-shut it off! It’s busted! I-… fuckfuckfuck-
(He scrambled to find the controls, but between his size and his condition he could do nothing but change which wall he leaned against. Steam started building around the chamber as the floor heated up.)
Stop- STOP. I don’t want to- use it-right now! LET ME OUT.
S-… stop-!
(The chamber rocketed upwards… and was nearly instantly met with part of the tube it was traveling on being dislocated and off-angle. It snagged, and with its momentum, the chamber was crushed and mangled mid-air.)
(Steam frantically billowed everywhere, before the chamber loosened, creaked, and screeched back to earth with a mighty crash as it landed, completing the symphony of catastrophic failure.)
…
(Blood trickled out from the wreckage… anything organic within was very, very dead.)
(The ghost saw the sight of steaming metal, powdered chitin and torn-up organs, and cackled triumphantly.)
