บท 99: One More
*ok, I shall call myself a good author now, cuz I had my bike stolen and I still wrote the chapter (not as bad as a bus hitting me or sum, but still a shitty thing that hindered me) so yeah. Enjoy :)) Peace out and Deus vult*
Both of them made their way through another heavy metal door, being met by an eerie nothingness. No alarms, no strange lights, nothing. Mark's skin crawled at the thought. Silence was the type of thing you never wished to encounter when unknowns were at hand. Having had a similar experience in the past on a trip to the forest with his friends, he just gripped the swords tighter.
"Stay vigilant," said SAM, moving with attentive movements. "My firepower is limited to just my weapons. Igniting flames in this kind of space would end badly, and I'm sure you're aware of it."
Mark nodded, not even wishing to imagine the type of death that would await him should that happen. With his powers sealed by some unknown power, he was a sitting duck. His boosted recovery would probably not work, yet the mere thought sent him to his arm. Curiosity managed to take over, and he tried shifting it. To his surprise, it changed shapes without issue, creating a blade that dangled out to the side. In the same manner, it morphed back into his arm, having no issue with doing that.
"I guess my humanity slipped through my fingers with this one. It's not part of my power, but rather a part of me."
They both walked on the empty halls, trying to catch at least a glimpse of something or hear a sound other than the muffled machinery that ran somewhere in the background. Among those barely audible sounds, something strange rang out—an incoherent sound like the clicking of one's tongue in a mouthful of water. They both halted, staring at each other as the sound moved closer and closer, the lone disturbance inching closer.
His heartbeat picked up, the tension straining his muscles, pushing out adrenaline in a rush, taking away the semblance of calm, and tossing it into the void. Firefly prepared her swords, a mix of advanced technology and more primitive weapons, glowing a dim light-blue light against the dark grayish walls. Shadows began growing on the floor as the unknown approached, the shape of a human.
Their guard was up, waiting. It stopped, as if feeling their presence, taking their stench from the stale air of the space vessel. Mark's gaze didn't buckle an inch from the long, dark image that was painted on the floor by blocked light. It was the only clue at hand, but soon enough, he could witness the truth. Someone came out from behind the corner, staring at the both of them with bleak eyes. From the looks of it, the man was a researcher, his white coat dangling around his body.
"Uhm, hi?" said Mark, staring at the man, watching for any movement shown. His eyes were petrified, unfocused. Firefly held tighter to her weapons, standing somewhere between them both. Right before their eyes, the man's jaw unclenched itself from the body, splattering blood and bits of flesh all over the coat. It let out a loud, pained scream that shook the spaceship to the core.
Mark's hair stood on end, and Firefly didn't even bother waiting. At once, she cut the creature in half, painting the surroundings red, adding a layer of color to the metal walls.
"What the fuck is this?" snapped Mark, his body and mind running in sync as the objective that came to him was survival. Firefly stared down at the neutralized target, and both watched as the flesh morphed and changed, the ribs moving and tangling together with cracks and splatters, piercing the lungs and using them as material. The jaw twisted, breaking further as it morphed into a pair of mandibles.
In horror, the two watched the creature mutate, and Firefly cut it down again, this time horizontally. It tried to connect once more, snapping the bones in the forearms, forcing them through the skin to use as blades, tearing the elbows apart to modify the bones and shape the arms into mantis-like members. The guts were spilling out, wrapping around the remains to somehow force them together.
Through the stench of innards and blood, Mark brought up the wide sword he has, the one taken from Hoolay, and he started mincing the weird creature, sparing no hits, showing no mercy. He struck again and again, the blows echoing in the halls as the bits of flesh were finally turned to goo. His breath was uneven and labored, more from the shock than effort. Whatever was happening, it was bad, and he could only recall one thing: Dead Space.
"Firefly, we need to blow up this whole fucking ship. We have to do it, and we need to be quick," he stated, sparing no moment to think and instead dashing to the all-time solution. Can't solve something? Delete it from existence.
"What about the distress signal?" she asked, looking at him through the visor. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"It's time we speedrun it, then. Or at least I'd like to say this. Most probably the ship is infested with these crawlers or whatever the fuck they are, so we need to be careful. They managed to send a distress signal, so there might be someone locked up in the communications room. We'll try to find that and see how things turn out."
She nodded, walking ahead, but came to a halt. The sound of footsteps drawing near flooded their senses, crashing against them like a wave. Thuds echoed loudly in a constant stream; too many steps mingled together for him to count. Screeches began thundering in the halls, coming in from all directions.
"Shit, I missed out the important detail. THAT FUCKER ALERTED THE WHOLE SHIP WITH HIS SCREAM!" snapped Mark, holding both weapons in hand, back-to-back with Sam, feeling the lower part of the cold armor press to him. She was way taller than him with that suit, but in those moments it gave off nothing but reassurance that he held an impenetrable fortress with weapons on his side. And so the two of them gathered their wits and prepared. From both sides, swarms of creatures came, all of them twisted, mangled humans.
Instead of waiting to be cornered, Mark and SAM dashed ahead, cutting through the hordes. Bones, blood, and bits of flesh flew on all sides as the carnage began. It sprayed all over him, ruining his clothes as the red liquid sank into the fabric on the same level his swords sank in the enemies. They both cut away, downing one foe just to witness another take its place, their mandibles biting on and off, the twisted limbs striking their way, with some having tails and extra limps built with pieces from other corpses.
He had to dodge as well, with some of them managing to throw a few strikes in that were dangerously close. For the average human, fighting those things would be a nightmare, but for them it was somewhat doable—unless you took into account the trauma from the grotesque sights. Still, Mark was used to weird shit, even if it did creep him out to see bones mangled and turn at weird angles.
While more of them fell, he watched as the flesh began gathering together, tying up the corpses and switching their bones around like spare pieces.
"Firefly, we're changing plans! Dash through and let's just fucking make a run for it!"
"Affirmative!"
With increased speed, Firefly cut open a path in the flesh monsters, and Mark was quick to follow her as the two broke into a sprint. Inhuman gargles and shouts came from behind, but turning back wasn't an option. Firefly dashed through the halls, clearing out the remaining monsters, while Mark kept the rear and the sides, fending them off with swift sword movements. Fatigue wasn't a thing when adrenaline pumped through your enhanced body, so they could move quickly. The halls deeper inside were smeared with blood, the rooms a mess of torn furniture, fired bullets, and empty cartridges.
"It seems like all hell broke loose. I don't even want to know what caused this shit in the first place," he said between breaths, moving with the swords by his side. In a way, he was glad that it didn't go like horror games, especially Dead Space. He'd have one 'funny' time being a normal human against those monstrosities.
"Something did happen, and I guess your earlier decision was wise: deletion would be the best course of action. We'll find the communication room and then extract the survivors, if there are any."
They kept wandering the halls, running around like crazy until the communication's room was in front of them. The door was locked, which meant that perhaps someone was inside. With a quick movement, Mark knocked on the door, speaking calmly.
"We've come to answer the distress call. If there's someone inside, open the door."
He pressed his ear against it, making out the faintest shuffling of steps inside, and what sounded like someone's ragged breath. Knocking once again led to the sounds inside stopping. With a sigh, Mark spoke again.
"Ok, listen here; I won't sugarcoat things. Open the door. We'll get you out safely. Just open it, or else we'll have no choice but to blow up this entire ship with you on board."
It took no more than twenty seconds for the door to open, revealing a tall man, similar in height to Mark but way bulkier in build, with beautiful neck-long curls of a raven black that blended in with the dim light inside the room. His amber eyes were shaking, their color a nice highlight against his light skin, yet the horrors he has seen were probably too much. Still, Mark did a quick run-down of the man, noticing that his clothing was rather out of place—just plain civilian clothes, a white hoodie, and a pair of jeans.
"Are you the one who gave the alarm?" asked Mark, his voice sharp as his fingers curled around the sword a touch tighter.
"Yes, it was me. I," he stuttered, stepping back with his palms up. "I know that it looks bad, but hear me out, alright?"
Mark nodded, and both he and SAM walked in. At the sight of the towering machine, he simply froze, but his gaze held a hint of familiarity in them. Still, the man shook his head, staring at the two of them like a cornered animal. The door was locked behind them, leaving all three of them sealed off within the room. Bodies were scattered about, but it looked like a mass suicide more than anything else. The fact that they weren't turned into those strange creatures further strengthened the point.
"So, go on. What's your story?" asked Mark, putting the swords aside for a moment. "You're in a bit of a shitty situation, you know? You're totally out of place here, judging by your outfit. So, go on, spill the beans."
The man's eyes danced between both of them, switching from one to the other. In the end, he took a deep breath before speaking as calmly as he could, but the fear was still present in his voice.
"I am Lucas... Lucas Stonehart. I know my being here is weird, but the truth is, I myself don't know how I got here."
That phrase gave Mark a mental pause, reminding him of his own words when he got into the world of Honkai.
"Could he be...? No, there's no way that's possible."
With a sigh, Mark looked over to Firefly, speaking in a calm tone.
"Firefly, we gotta get out of here. I'll lend him my costume, and you should go take him to the Astral Express," he said, putting some accent on the word 'Astral' just to check the man's reaction, noticing the subtle twitch of his lips. "Meanwhile, I'll dash around the place to check for other survivors, but I'm afraid I'll end up witnessing nothing other than this scene."
SAM nodded, and Mark handed Lucas the device, pointing to the button on top. He spoke calmly and stared right at the man.
"Here, use this. Press the button, and you should be enveloped in a protective suit. You can go out into the void of space and be safe. Firefly, aka SAM, will help you reach it, so just make sure to stay by her side. We'll talk when I return, so until then, just wait patiently and answer what you're asked."
Lucas stared back, nodding. It was clear on his face that he held many questions, but no answers were bound to come his way yet. He asked a simple thing, almost as if sensing Mark's reluctance to call things by name.
"Do you know of the gacha?"
Mark nodded, smiling a bit.
"I do all too well. Now go with her, alright? Stay safe."
The man pressed the button, the suit covering him well, and with Firefly by his side, they went outside, while Mark remained alone, staring at the dead bodies. He put his palms together and said a prayer, hoping that maybe the dead would find peace, even if death brought by one's own hand is one of the worst sins.
"May you find peace," he whispered, before taking his swords and walking out into the unknown.
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