Jun 1
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
they're plural bc we said so ok?
more tomodachi life items!
Part Six - Recalibration
this one is long i apologize lol. credit to @/uzmacchiato for the divider and @/undeadmagpie for the gif!
Rating: 16+
Wordcount: 3.9k
Warnings: IRON LUNG SPOILERS, cursing, angst, blood, horror, injuries, claustrophobia, gore, fire, dread
Series: The Man, The Droid, and The Eel Trying to Kill Them
Blurb: The stars were dead. An empty void of ghostlight filled the once vibrant galaxies that had teemed with energy. Gaps in solar systems yawned wide and dark, suns and planets disappearing in the same, dreadful instant. Trillions of lives lost, countless technological discoveries turned to dust, every bit of humanity’s history erased in the blink of an eye. Echoing silence was the only sound that followed the Quiet Rapture. Hope dwindled in the universe. Satellites and space stations floated through the abyss like unmoored buoys in a vast ocean. Occasional life stirred within them, lights flashing behind thick glass windows and expeditions packed into escape shuttles undocking from expansive hangar bays. A mere pinch of population remaining after the Rapture in handfuls below 500. The last inkling of perseverance, of stubbornness, of the innate human desire to push on despite the odds. Simon was the pure embodiment of that inkling.
Nudge.
Fire bloomed in the back of his skull. A raging inferno that was heating his eyes and making his stomach churn.
Nudge.
Vertigo permeated every sense he had. Up and down were mixed, left and right were a laughable concept. Fuck, his head hurt. His mind was encompassed by the spikes of agony piercing his brain with every heartbeat.
NudgeNudge.
Slowly, carefully, Simon opened his eyes. Pure shadow greeted his vision. The only lights that remained in the Lung were the camera button and One-One’s eyes, the latter currently surveying his body with concern.
Brrp…
They nudged Simon’s leg with their forehead again. The slight movement jostled Simon’s already swirling gut. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut again to quell the storm brewing in his abdomen.
Beep?
Nudge.
“...Stop,” Simon croaked. His voice was like a patch of gravel. Unused, harsh, throat incredibly dry.
A series of cheerful chirps and beeps came from the droid’s speaker. Far too loud. Simon curled in on himself as One-One hopped from foot to foot.
Every movement was torture. Shifting anything above his shoulders made his pounding headache worse, adjusting his abdomen irritated his nausea and his probably broken ribs. He’d forgotten how easily life could become focused around pain.
Beep Brrp?
Simon could hear the droid’s feet click against the floor as they approached his head. Each footstep rang like a bell in his disoriented mind.
“Hey bud,” he rasped, attempting to open his eyes again. This second try was deemed less uncomfortable than the first. One-One had dimmed the light emitting from their eyes significantly to warrant more darkness for the injured Convict.
The sub had lost power. None of the lights attached to the main generator were on. Oxygen lights, depth meter, proximity sensors. All were vacant of their usual glare.
With a grunt, Simon pushed up from the floor and into a crouch. One-One dashed forward to provide assistance. Simon used the offered help by placing a hand on the top of their head to maintain his balance. Holy fuck. It felt like his skull was full of pebbles being shaken around. He used his free hand to rub at his eyes.
“H-Hello?” he called to the radio. Even noise from his own lips made the pain in his head worse. The Convict used both One-One and the wall to stand as he waited for a response.
Silence.
It was more quiet than it had been in the entirety of this fucked up expedition so far. The only moment that’d come close was being suspended in the hangar bay, but there was the noise of conversation and work echoing from outside of the submarine. Now, there was… nothing. No speech, no clangs, no whirring of the engine. A pressure started to build against Simon’s eardrums.
Only one thing to do.
Simon pressed the camera button.
Flash. Scalding, bright light lit up his vision and made him wince. He grunted and turned away to shield his eyes. One-One let out a worried chirp. Simon looked around the rest of the submarine to give himself time to adjust to the light.
There was a significant dent in the portside wall. Parts of the metal piping had been bowed toward the console seat. The radio now hung from the wall at an odd angle. Drips of blood and crystalline fluid chased each other in slow streaks down the iron siding.
He leaned his back to the camera button and glanced at the results screen. Nothing but empty hills laid before the sub’s bow. A sigh passed through his split lips. Simon ducked his head, letting the image fade as he wracked his brain for a solution.
How in the fresh hell would he get out of this? The power was out, the radio was dead, he had no idea where he was, and he’d been beaten to shit. He had no food, no water, no contact with anyone who could help him.
But he had a droid.
One-One met Simon’s gaze with a supportive trill. They tilted their head to the side, the Convict mirroring the action.
“What’re you thinkin’, Wun?” he asked like one would ask a dog. The droid gave their equivalent of a shrug. Simon sighed, straightening his posture and pausing when vertigo washed through his head.
Simon pressed the button again. Flash. Empty ocean.
Blood started to trickle from the wound on his scalp. He grimaced, raising his palm to the laceration and pulling it away red. The band keeping his hair back was starting to absorb the warm liquid in its fibers.
The light faded. He pressed the button. Flash. Empty ocean.
God damn, his side hurt. It was like a dozen knives were stabbed into his chest and were twisting with every inhale. The cord around his wrist felt all the more comforting now that he was trapped in hell. Simon cradled the pendant in his palm, the cool glass warming from his overheated skin.
The light faded.
A quiet rattle shook the Convict from his thoughts. He looked down, finding an orange light flashing softly through a hole in the floor. One-One made the discovery at the same time. They approached the hole and brightened their eyes. Green hues shone across a hand-sized opening, a twin on the other side of the square trapdoor. Simon crouched in front of the droid, sticking his fingers into the first hole and pulling up.
It wouldn’t budge. One-One hopped off of the door in case it was their weight, but that did nothing to improve the situation. An uptick in their eyes’ brightness illuminated screws securing the door to the iron floor of the sub. Simon sighed, tapping the hatch and rising to his feet.
Vertigo swirled behind his eyes. He stumbled, catching himself on the various dials decorating the wall. The droid stood just beneath his dangling arm to catch him if he fell. Simon smirked at them, the expression pulling at the gash in his scalp.
“You don’t have a screwdriver hidden in your head, do you?” he asked, partially joking. One-One shook their head with a sad trill. Simon sighed, “Think you can use those eyes to find a toolbox or something?”
Beep!
One-One turned their head away from the convict and increased the brightness of their eyes tenfold, a solid beam of jade light shining throughout the interior of the Lung. They slowly made broad sweeps with the light to give Simon a chance to assess the various nooks and crannies. There. Right next to the computer terminal, which was lying dormant, was a thin hatch embedded in the adjacent wall.
“Good eye, bud,” Simon breathed in relief. The droid chirped cheerfully as they dulled their brightness and stood just below the hatch. He stepped up to the wall and tugged on the door with a loud creak.
Are. You. Fucking. Serious.
A bright, vibrant orange, garish fucking lifejacket sat perfectly in the center of the cabinet. It had buckles, reflective squares, a water-activated flashlight. Simon grabbed the vest by the neck. Was this a fucking joke? He tossed it over his shoulder, hearing it land somewhere near the image screen.
Next was a cloth bag of rubber wires. Simon dug through the contents, inspecting the useless materials, and ultimately dropped it to the floor as well. Finally, his hands wrapped around a yellow, plastic box. He opened the lid to reveal several smaller metal containers. One-One gave a supportive trill at his find.
Pale green light floated through the air around him as he sat beneath the camera button. Since One-One was providing all the light he needed, he didn’t have to press the button to see in the void of the sub. The droid stepped up next to his hip to eagerly explore the contents of the box.
The first thing Simon grabbed was a metal bottle. Its chrome exterior shone in the light from both One-One’s eyes and the camera button above his head. A paper label was stuck to the lid saying “H2O.” He shook the bottle, hearing it slosh with each movement.
“I had water this whole time…” he whispered. All these hours spent sweating through his clothes, wasting the precious moisture he thought he needed to conserve, only to find a fucking lunchbox hidden away in the abyss with a full bottle of water. Of course. Just his fucking luck.
He spun the lid until the bottle opened with a pop. Giving the liquid a cursory smell, met only with the metallic scent of the bottle, he tipped the opening into his mouth and drank. Warm, filtered water rushed into his mouth. Simon almost whimpered at the feeling, his body shaking from how dehydrated he was. Liquid coated his dry throat in slick glances of reprieve. He was almost inhaling the water, he was that desperate.
Beep?
One-One nudged Simon in the elbow when he’d drained about half of the bottle. He tried to ignore the droid, relishing in the feeling of the water coursing through his mouth, but ultimately relented when they wouldn’t stop bumping their head against his arm.
“Alright, alright. I get it,” he groused through heavy breaths. The bottle had a third of its water left. Begrudgingly, he screwed the cap back on, sealing away the one ounce of relief he’d found in this coffin of a submarine, “Fuck.”
Simon set the bottle down next to the discarded lifevest. One-One was right, if he wanted a chance at survival, he needed to conserve his resources. Those gulps of water he left in the bottle could be the thing that decides whether he lives or dies.
Silver shone under the green light in a thin line. Simon dug his hand in the yellow box again and pulled it away gripping a pair of angled scissors. He opened and closed the blades a few times.
Brrp!
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinkin’,” Simon replied. He shoved the yellow box to the side and brought the scissors to the trap door. When opened, one of the blades was thin enough to turn the screws. The Convict set to work on opening the trapdoor while the droid shone a green spotlight on his hands.
After several minutes of cursing, grunts, and the scraping of metal on metal, all of the screws were sorted into a pile next to the terminal and the trapdoor was ready to be opened. Simon put the scissors back in the box with a huff.
“Ready?” he asked One-One. His question was met with an enthusiastic nod. Simon crouched next to the trapdoor and dug his fingers into the slots. As soon as he began to lift he felt the weight of the door. Fuck, it was heavy. The muscles in his shoulders and back screamed with the effort. A grunt blew past his lips as he finally freed the door from its frame. He set it to the side of the opening, careful not to squish his fingers.
The droid dashed forward and shone their light into the hole. Complete, inky darkness greeted their green eyes. Simon let out a wary breath.
“Oh, fuck that,” he muttered. One-One looked to the Convict, leaving the crawlspace completely devoid of light. A solid, black curtain stood between the pair and their goal. The hair on the back of Simon’s neck stood on end. He wasn’t some idiot in those ancient depictions of dramatic horror. He knew better than to dive headfirst into pitch blackness without a lightsource.
Simon sat back on his heels, looking to the droid with apprehension, “What d’ya think? Comin’ down with me?”
One-One nodded with a supportive chirp. Without any warning, the droid suddenly hopped through the hole and disappeared into the umbra. Simon called out and dove for the opening.
“Wun! What the fuck!” he yelled, searching in the shadows for his companion. It was silent for a couple tense moments, the entirety of which had Simon’s heart pounding behind his sore ribs, then the droid brightened their eyes and illuminated the passage in emerald light. A wave of relief washed through Simon’s body, “Holy shit, don’t do that!”
A series of apologetic beeps streamed from the droid’s speaker. Simon rubbed at his eyes, the sudden flash of panic doing nothing to help his headache.
“Since you’re down there, do you see anything?” he said wearily. One-One’s light embodied a lighthouse as their head swiveled, taking in the entirety of the crawlspace in one, long scan. They seemed to process the results, then moved further into the shadows and out of Simon’s sight. Their green beam swept past the entrance as they scanned again. Simon’s teeth worried on his bottom lip, “What do you see?”
BeepBrrp Beep!
Their feet clicked along the crawlspace’s metal grating until their head appeared in the hole. A subconscious sigh of relief rattled in the Convict’s chest.
“Did you see a way to get the lights back on?” Simon prompted, the barest glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. One-One replied with an enthusiastic nod. A smile spread across his face, “Need me to come down?”
Another nod. Feeling less apprehensive since the crawlspace had been explored, Simon sat on the edge of the hole and dropped in with a loud clang. The long hall definitely lived up to its name. He would need to scrape his stomach along the floor in order to crawl to the other end. For now, he knelt next to the droid providing the only light in the dark void.
“Where do you need me?” he asked quietly. Something about the empty darkness of the crawlspace made his skin crawl. One-One crossed the floor to stand on Simon’s left, eyes illuminating a large, metal box with a series of levers. An array of warning signage decorated the grey material. All of which Simon ignored, he had bigger shit to worry about.
The droid nodded towards the lever farthest to the right. It was surrounded by various images of lightning bolts. Promising. Simon crawled over to the box and gripped the lever.
Crank. Silence. He grimaced at the results.
“C’mon,” he grumbled. Crank. Silence. The pattern repeated several more times, each attempt making the gathering lead ball in his gut grow heavier. Could the engine be restarted? Was he doomed to be trapped at the bottom of the ocean with no idea of how much oxygen he had left? He must’ve been hallucinating again, since he heard footsteps echo in the iron above his head.
Click.
Simon paused, releasing the lever. A large, darkened button filled the space to the lever’s left. One-One gave an encouraging beep. He relented and pressed the button. The floor shook beneath his legs as the engines kicked back to life. Orange lights lining the crawlspace flickered on one at a time. A breeze of a laugh passed through his teeth. He gave the grey box a few pats, then did the same to One-One’s head, who responded with a happy chirp.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to the droid. Simon let One-One use him as a ladder, grabbing onto the various pouches and belts adorning his person, so that they could emerge from the crawlspace. They stared down at him from the lip of the opening. He threw a look down the hall, eyes settling on a red box sitting in the far corner, before rising to his feet and heaving himself out of the hole.
The first thing he noticed was a crumb sticking to his palm. The fuck? He stared at the piece of food, then began to search the surrounding area for its source. Several other crumbs littered the floor, all leading to the discarded yellow box sitting against the back wall. Torn silver reflected the reanimated lights. Simon approached the box and found an opened nutrient bar nestled amongst the metal containers. That’s not how I left you.
A low groan rattled the sides of the Lung, like the ocean itself let out a painful breath. His attention snapped to the bow of the sub. Red filled the porthole window, the scenery shifting as something coasted past the ship, slabs of pale flesh and bloody streaks gliding against the glass. The proximity sensors started clicking with a rapid tempo. Simon stared in horror as what looked like human limbs scraped along the window and left smeared imprints. After several, tense moments, the clicking of the sensors calmed, and the glass was filled with the dark red of the blood ocean.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
Crackling sounds, like ice snapping under foot, resonated from the porthole. Simon rushed forward, turning the dial to shut the porthole window, standing near the console in case the control didn’t work.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
Branches of thin, white cracks sprouted from the base of the window and surged upwards. The metal shield started to close on the other side of the glass. All Simon could do was watch as the crack and the shield raced against each other to reach their finish line.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
The shield slid shut. A jet of hot, viscous blood spat through the crack and coated Simon’s face in red. He gasped, eyes squeezing shut, the liquid almost burning the skin around his eyes and across his nose. Heavy drips of blood leaked through the top of the window.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
Simon lifted his fingers to his face, pulling them away bloodied, as a dry sob wracked through his chest. If he were a millisecond too late, the sub would’ve flooded. He would be dead. His lungs heaved strained breaths. Subconsciously, his clean hand gripped his mother’s knife holster on his shoulder.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
It was too much. He’d been through too much. Swells of dread and anxiety washed through his mind and reduced him to a curled ball on the floor. His eyes stung from unshed tears. Simon couldn’t breathe, his heart raced and his pulse pounded in his ears.
“HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH.”
Intense heat licked at his spine. He sprang to his feet and turned to the stern. Tall flames sputtered from the crawlspace in yellow tongues. Smoke billowed from the hole and swirled on the ceiling. One-One cowered in the corner below the image screen, trapped against the wall by the spreading inferno. Simon’s mind emptied in an instant when his eyes landed on the droid’s huddled form.
“HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH.”
He dashed to the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, ripping it out of its bonds with a loud CLANG. Nothing else mattered in that moment. His holster, his fear, his life. Simon needed to put the fire out for One-One.
“HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH. FIRE. HULL BREACH.”
The pin clattered to the floor when Simon tugged it from the extinguisher. He gripped the trigger in one hand and the nozzle in the other, then started putting out the fire. A spray of white powder rained into the crawlspace, subduing the fire and slowly smothering it at its source. He continued to spray the powder long after the flames had died down. His chest heaved, throat burning at the mix of smoke and whatever chemical was in the extinguisher that now littered the air.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
Dust settled. One-One extended their legs and crossed the floor to peer into the crawlspace. Simon’s hold on the neck of the extinguisher tightened.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
Fuck. Fuck. God fucking dammit. Pins and needles spread under his skin as rage burned the backs of his eyes.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
He couldn’t take it. It was too much.
“HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Simon screamed, swinging around on his back foot and slamming the extinguisher into the speaker. The dented metal canister fell to the floor. He hunched over, fisting his hands into his shirt, “FUCK!”
His breath came in shallow pants, adrenaline calming and leaving him absolutely exhausted. Simon leaned on the metal piping and stared at the broken speaker. The light wasn’t flashing, the bars weren’t shaking, the box was utterly silent. Regret pooled in his gut. How the fuck was he supposed to get in contact with the tow ship? How was he going to get out now?
One-One approached carefully, their antennae tilted back and their chassis hunched low. They let out a quiet trill. Simon looked the droid over for any damage. Despite some soot clinging to the side of their head, One-One appeared to be unharmed.
“You… You okay?” he said through shaky pants. The droid nodded, antennae perking, then they clicked along the floor until they stood at his feet. Simon slid down the piping until his thighs collided with the floor. He set a hand on One-One’s cool head, relishing in the stark difference of temperature as the metal chilled his palm, “I, uh… I’m sorry I yelled. I was… I was scared. For me, and for you.”
The droid nestled their head further against Simon’s palm. He sighed, pulling the droid closer until they were tucked securely between his flank and his arm. A series of comforting trills sung from their speaker.
It’s okay, dustbug.
Simon let his eyes fall closed, evening his breathing, as he listened to the discordant melody spill from One-One. It was almost peaceful, in a way. The song reminded him of a lullaby from Mars. He could immediately feel his heart slow and the racing thoughts in his mind come to a halt.
“We’re gonna get out of here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. One-One replied with a quick, gentle Beep. Simon started running his fingers along the smooth metal of their head, “We’ll get out of this coffin and find a planet somewhere. The C.O.I. and Eden won’t be able to find us. There’ll be animals, grass, trees.”
One-One perked up at the mention of animals. The song playing through their speakers came to an end as their curiosity increased.
“You’d like that? Seeing animals?” Simon asked, the question immediately met with a nod of the droid’s head. A small smile spread across his lips, “We’ll find all sorts of animals for you to scan and learn about. Like chickens, or squirrels, or bees.”
His smile grew sad the more he dreamed with One-One.
“I never saw any of those on Mars. Or Eden. We only read about them on datapads,” he explained with an underlying hint of sorrow.
It was all a pipedream anyway. There were no planets left. There were no stars or solar systems or people. Only scraps of civilization remained. A desolate universe that echoed with the heavy silence of humanity’s failures.
Blood dripped from where it’d settled on the planes of his face and landed on his hand. Right. Shit. He needed to get cleaned up and see to his injuries. Simon fished one of his discarded gloves from his hip pouch and wiped the ichor off of his face. A subtle sting remained after every trace of blood was cleaned off. Hopefully it was just from the change in temperatures. He didn’t need to worry about that now.
Now, he needed to focus on piecing together his wreck of a body so he could get him and the droid out of here. Wherever “here” was.
next chapter will be the quintessential reason for me starting this fic. the very first thing i thought of when it comes to wunny was "what if a little droid yelled at simon for drinking the alcohol"
quick sketch of my babies i did tonight as a creativity warmup :)
Part Five - Recollection
this one is rough y'all... soz in advance lol. credit to @/uzmacchiato for the divider and @/undeadmagpie for the gif
Rating: 16+
Wordcount: 2.8k
Warnings: IRON LUNG SPOILERS, cursing, angst, trauma, religious themes, dog death, death, blood, horror, harm of droid
Series: The Man, The Droid, and The Eel Trying to Kill Them
Blurb: The stars were dead. An empty void of ghostlight filled the once vibrant galaxies that had teemed with energy. Gaps in solar systems yawned wide and dark, suns and planets disappearing in the same, dreadful instant. Trillions of lives lost, countless technological discoveries turned to dust, every bit of humanity’s history erased in the blink of an eye. Echoing silence was the only sound that followed the Quiet Rapture. Hope dwindled in the universe. Satellites and space stations floated through the abyss like unmoored buoys in a vast ocean. Occasional life stirred within them, lights flashing behind thick glass windows and expeditions packed into escape shuttles undocking from expansive hangar bays. A mere pinch of population remaining after the Rapture in handfuls below 500. The last inkling of perseverance, of stubbornness, of the innate human desire to push on despite the odds. Simon was the pure embodiment of that inkling.
“OXYGEN”
Simon looked up from his place on the console seat where he’d been adjusting the pendant around his wrist. Only two of the oxygen’s meter lights were glowing. They stared at him like a pair of square eyes. Watching him. Taunting him. Hanging the fact that he’d be dead soon over his head like the sword of Damascus.
He didn’t know when his air would run out. He didn’t want to think about it. Hallucinations were already creeping into the edges of his mind. Whispers breathing into his ears, shadows clinging to his eyelashes, the smell of blood permeating every inch of the iron submarine. Sooner than he’d hoped, he was going to die if he didn’t emerge from the blood ocean.
Pushing up from the console seat, Simon rolled his left shoulder and started moving to the stern of the sub. One-One met his gaze with a cheerful chirp from their position amongst the rear meters. He paused briefly, throwing a glance at the silent speaker, before continuing on.
Beep?
“Yeah, press the button,” Simon replied as he came to a stop in front of the image screen. One-One rotated its head on its chassis like an owl, then nudged the camera button. Seconds later light bloomed on the screen and spread through the stern of the Lung.
There it was. That fucking skeleton. Teeth like spears and eyesockets vacant. But it looked… Different, somehow. The jaw was misaligned to the point that the creature now had a considerable underbite. Not to mention the ribs and remaining torso were off the side of a steep hill. It hadn’t just been shifted by the ocean’s floor. It’d been moved.
“That’s not right,” Simon whispered. One-One tilted their head, antennae twitching.
“What?” the captain asked through the speaker. Simon nodded to the droid.
“This,” he replied, One-One pressing the button and making the photo appear again. He should’ve been used to the blinding flash of the screen by now, but it still made him squint every time after being submerged in the umbra of the Lung’s stern.
The skeleton appeared again. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Simon could almost picture it laughing.
“I can’t see what you’re talking about,” the captain said with a minute hint of irritation.
Simon turned and began climbing up the inclined floor towards the bow, “The skeleton. It moved,” he explained as he came face to face with the radio.
“I told you already, the ocean floor isn’t static. Things shift. It’s just what happens. You have eyes on it?”
“Yeah. I’m-I’m looking at it right now, but I’m telling you,” Simon cut himself off by returning to the screen and having One-One press the button again. Flash. Skeleton, “It looks like something… I don’t think gas bubbles did this.”
“But you see the skeleton?” the captain repeated. Anger flared inside Simon’s chest like a stone being struck.
“Yes! I see the skeleton, but I’m telling you something’s wrong! It… It’s just the head,” he said, calming himself while he spoke. Lashing out wouldn’t get him free. He needed to relax.
“Well, the sooner you get the sample, the sooner you get to come back. So stop wasting time gawking at it and just get it!” the captain barked, making the iron bars of the radio bounce.
Simon’s teeth ground together, the remnants of his own blood sticking to the underside of his tongue. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him? Why wouldn’t they fucking listen? He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He could clearly see that something had grabbed the skeleton by the head and moved it. Why the fuck wouldn’t they listen to him?!
He took in a breath, “So, I get this and I’m done?”
“For now. Obviously, we’ll need more than just a single sample. But it will take time to study it,” the captain said with a heavy sigh.
Scoffing, Simon’s feet shuffled against the steel floor as he folded his arms across his chest, “You’re not just gonna kill me as soon as I get up there?”
The words from the previous occupant of the SM-13 kept ringing in his head. This isn’t an expedition. It’s an execution. When they put you in here, they don’t want you to return. That had to be why they wouldn’t listen to him. Time and time again, Simon would voice his concerns and he’d be met with aggression and apathy. The moment he was sealed in this sub he was doomed to die.
“Why would we ki- ugh,” the captain shouted, quieting herself a millisecond later, “We need your help, and you’re earning your place in the Consolidation. That’s all.”
It’s a trick. They want you dead. They want to burn your remains and scatter the ashes amongst the ghostlight. You will not join your brothers within the Last Tree. You will not join your mother in the afterlife.
Simon ran a hand down his face to clear his mind. Eden dogma would get him nowhere, least of all in the clutches of a C.O.I. official. He just needed to get this sample. Then he’d be let out. He blew out a puff of air through his nose to steady his heartbeat.
“I’m sorry. About the radiation. I didn’t know,” he said softly. Simon turned back to the console chair as the sparks of rage flickered into wisps of shame. How many people was he going to kill before he died? He was well over a hundred now. One hundred souls lost to the empty void of space, all because of the Butcher. The thought made his stomach tie itself in knots.
“Yeah, well, you can apologize to my tumors. Just get the sample,” the captain said. He paused, the knot in his gut tightening, before sitting in the console seat.
“Fair enough,” he muttered with a sigh, “How hard do I need to hit this thing?”
He turned back to the speaker in time for the captain to reply, “I… I don’t know. This isn’t exactly standard procedure. Just… Ram it.”
What?
“...Just ram it?” Simon mimicked. She can’t be fucking serious.
“Just ram it. Get the job done. Ship can handle it, I promise,” the captain said with finality. Simon threw his hand up in surrender.
“Are you sure?” Simon asked, stressing every syllable. One-One hopped off the meters and scurried towards the console, their feet clicking along the metal floor.
“I’m sure. And I need you to trust me. Ram. The ship.”
Sure. Fuck it.
“Alright, okay,” he whispered. As he turned back towards the sub’s controls, One-One hopped onto Simon’s shoulders. The convict flinched at the sudden weight. An encouraging trill sung at him from One-One’s speaker. Simon adjusted his posture to better support the droid, “Alright. Just ram it, just ram it. Just ram it. And then I’m free.”
“Then you come back up,” the captain corrected. Simon’s jaw clicked as he ignored the remark.
“And then I’m free,” he insisted, pointing at the speaker. He didn’t wait for a reply. One-One gave the back of his head a reassuring nudge
Come on. Come on, Butcher. Get it done.
Simon pounded the console’s surface with his fist. Do it. Do it. Get it done. C’mon Butcher. He grabbed the directional lever and shoved it forward.
Iron screamed under the sudden movement. Green numbers ticked faster and faster, digits flying upwards. The front proximity sensor started to click to its own, speeding tempo.
Get it done. Get it done. Do it. Kill them. Do it. Get it done. Do it, Butcher.
He breathed heavily to get his adrenaline pumping. Get it done. Get it done. The proximity sensor ticked faster. Do it. Steel shook on the sides of the submarine. Come on. Glowing numbers counted up so fast they were a blur. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them, Butcher.
One-One let out a brief beep as they braced on Simon’s shoulders, queuing him to do the same with the console.
SLAM.
Everything in the sub was thrown forward. Which included Simon and the droid, the latter of which flew off of Simon’s shoulders with a screech and bounced off of the shielded window.
The overhead light flickered as the creaking sides settled. Simon’s breath came in brief spurts. Clicking continued to repeat from the proximity sensor at a breakneck pace. A low groan echoed through the ocean surrounding the Lung. One-One righted themselves on unsteady feet, eyes a swirling green until their balance systems corrected.
Looking for any leaks, Simon said, “Uh… I rammed it.”
“Did you get it?” the captain asked. The faintest hint of excitement cut through her words.
“I think I got it, one second,” Simon replied, tugging on the directional lever to back up the sub. Moans of steel on steel greeted the action, the entire Lung rattling like an earthquake. Slowly, the proximity sensor calmed its ticking.
Simon traveled down the sloped floor to the stern of the ship and mashed the button. The screen flashed, showing the skull’s enormous fangs and sharp features. Between the setting of two of those teeth was a hole the size of a human head. He let a breath of relief pass his lips.
“Uh… Yeah, I’m lookin’ at it. Um, I mean… What might be a hole in the jaw? I think I got it,” he assessed while hunched over to get a closer look at the granular pixels. One-One hopped off of the console and joined the convict in the stern. Their antennae tilted behind their head as they observed the damaged skull.
The captain sighed in relief, “Good! Alright, hopefully you can hold onto the sample during the ascent, or else we’re gonna have to send you right back down.”
“Is that it? With all the build up, I thought there might be somethin’ a bit more calamitous,” Simon said with trepidation. He pressed the button again and looked to the radio as he waited for the results. One-One suddenly let out a series of concerned chirps that drew his attention.
“Ha, our goal is to hopefully avoid something more calamitous, since we’re keeping us all alive. Now, hold onto something. We’re beginning the ascent,” the captain said with more amusement than Simon had ever heard.
He followed One-One’s gaze and looked at the screen just as the image faded.
Oh. Fuck.
A pair of eyes met his on the right side of the image. Two pinpricks amongst a circular body leering over the skeleton’s corpse. Simon’s stomach dropped.
The Lung steadied its elevation as the chain attached to the top pulled it upwards. Simon braced a hand on the wall.
“Hey, hey!” he called out. The front proximity sensor picked up its pace, the yellow light flashing, “Uh, there was somethin’ else!”
“Wha- Say again?” the captain replied.
“There was something else! It was looking right at me!” he exclaimed, turning from the screen to stand near the speaker. One-One hastily climbed the meters to man the button.
“S-Something alive? Are you sure? Can you-”
Her voice was cut off by a dull thud against the portside of the Lung. One-One chirped at Simon in warning, using their feet to brace amongst the barometers. All of the sensors ticked in rapid succession. Not again.
SLAM.
The sub rocked with the extreme force knocked into the starboard side. Simon cried out as he fell to the floor.
“Wha-What just happened?” the captain asked frantically.
A low groan surrounded the sub in a freezing vice. Something unhuman, unnatural. The sub tilted and slid Simon from one side to the other. His back hit the wall, which he used to push into a seated position.
“SOMETHING’S GOT ME!” he yelled. He started clawing at the console seat to climb to the controls. The floor’s incline was past forty-five degrees at this point, the effort to take a step to the bow straining the muscles in his thighs. Screams of “cut the line” and “we need the sample” buzzed in the speaker.
SNAP.
The tow line broke.
Simon fell from the front of the ship all the way to the back. He was briefly aware of a sudden burst of pain in his head, then everything went black.
~~~~
He was eight years old. His hair had shifted from a mop of curls to gentle waves that flowed down the sides of his head, the mess kept at bay by a headband. Clothes fit him better, speech flowed from him easier, and the knife his mother had given him felt like an extension of his hand.
The blade was pointed at its previous owner.
It glinted in the artificial light, the gossamer-thin line of silver flashing with the shakes of his hand. He tried to hold it steady. It’s what his mother had taught him. What she didn’t teach him was how to look your victim in the eye as you wielded it.
“Do it,” boomed the deep voice of the Father, “Prove you are worthy of the Grove. Water the Last Tree with her blood.”
His mother had tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. But she didn’t seem sad. There was a thin smile stretching at her trembling lips. Her dark eyes looked at Simon with enough love to bring the stars back, despite the corpse of his dog Laika soiling the bottom of his shoes with her blood.
“It’s okay, dustbug,” she cooed softly. Her hands were buried in the Tree’s soil, sitting in front of her son like a lamb on a silver platter. The two were eye-level now.
“Kill her and join your Brothers,” the Father said. A quiet sob wracked Simon’s chest. He could see hot trails of his own sorrow leaking through his gaze.
“I’m sorry, mama,” he whispered, voice warbling like an extinct songbird. The knife settled against her skin, the blade drawing a bead of crimson from the flesh. She let out a shaky exhale.
“That’s it, dustbug. You’re doing well,” she hummed softly. A reassuring, warm hand rubbed circles into his back.
“Become who you were meant to be!”
~~~~
Thick, red blood dripped from his hands in dark trails. It smelled of iron, of steel, of pain, of torment, of release. Heavy globs fell into the puddles at his feet.
He was eleven.
And he’d just committed a genocide.
The bodies of fallen soldiers and civilians alike were strewn across the grand hall. Pools of red, reflective ink leaked from each corpse like growing rugs. Empty eyes reflected the barren void of space seen through the dome ceiling.
Simon was trembling. His mother’s knife was gripped in his fist, equally as bloody as the rest of him. Blood dripped through his hair and stung at his eyes.
But he wasn’t crying. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. He wasn’t a child anymore.
A man who served the Father knelt in front of Simon. He was older, wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes and grey hair falling over his shoulders in limp curls. Green eyes, so full of life compared to the dead, regarded Simon with pride.
“Good job. Keep it up, and they’ll give you a title. Like ‘the Slayer,’ or ‘the Butcher.’”
Simon didn’t want either of those titles.
He wanted his mother.
~~~~
Wham.
Fist collided with bone.
Wham.
Crying was silenced.
Wham.
Teeth were spat, blood flying off in ruby comets.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
The Butcher had had enough. And he was fifteen.
“Please,” his classmate cried.
He didn’t care.
Wham. Wham.
They’d denied the sanctity of the Tree. All would worship at its roots, all would pay homage to the growth of the Tree. Any who denied the Father’s words would be punished.
Wham.
The Butcher had been designated the executioner from that moment on.
~~~~
Fire roared in his ears. Screams of Brothers and C.O.I. loyalists echoed. Seared flesh and burnt metal mixed with the smoke rising into the air.
Simon’s feet pounded against the vinyl floor. His breath heaved behind the cloth mask around his face. He was twenty, and he’d just watched his brothers destroy the reactor of Filament Station.
His lungs stung, his chest ached, his face burned, his mind swirled, his gut churned. He couldn’t focus on any of that. He needed to run. He needed to get to the escape shuttle.
Crying children sitting in pools of their parents’ blood flew past his periphery. Wails of the injured and the damned added to the constant pressure in his ears. He would have covered them with his hands, but he was carrying his fallen Brother.
“We’re almost there,” he wheezed. Something deep in his mind knew his words were falling on deaf ears, but he needed that little bit of hope to keep going, “We’ll get you to medical. You’ll be alright, Joseph.”
Alarms blared. Sirens moaned and flames climbed higher and higher. Simon’s feet landed on asphalt once he’d reached the hangar bay.
But there was no escape shuttle.
The faint glint of its propulsion boosters shone in the void of space through the doors.
Simon fell to his knees, dropping his Brother in a heap to the floor.
“They left me.”
mmmmmmmm yummy angst. credit again to @/politemenacephd for simon's mom's petname for him :)
Happy international women's day