"Simon?" Adam asked.
"Yes?" Simon responded, turning his head slightly.
"Can you help me get to the dining hall? I’m starving," Adam admitted, his voice still hoarse.
Simon considered the request, but the image of Julia Dahl’s headless corpse flashed through his mind. It wasn’t a sight Adam needed to see right now.
"Stay here. I’ll go prepare some ramen and bring you some water," Simon said, his tone even, decisive.
Adam nodded weakly. "Alright."
Simon glanced at his small companion.
"Jerry, keep him company."
The rat twitched his whiskers at Simon’s words. Simon knelt, placing a hand on the floor. Jerry scurried down his arm, his small paws tapping lightly onto the cold metal.
Simon gave a thumbs-up, then rose to his feet and walked toward the dining hall.
When Simon returned, Adam was where he had left him, Jerry perched on his shoulder, Adam’s fingers idly stroking his tiny back. A small smile played on Adam’s otherwise exhausted face.
Simon approached, setting down a metal tray beside him, the steaming bowl of ramen releasing rich, seasoned steam into the air.
He moved beside Adam, sliding an arm under his armpit, helping him rise to his feet.
Adam’s legs wobbled, still weak from atrophy, but Simon steadied him, guiding him step by step toward the dispatch room.
Then, Adam froze.
His breath hitched, eyes widening in horror. His gaze locked onto the hardened, solidified tendrils of structure gel creeping along one of the consoles.
"Don’t worry." Simon’s voice was firm. "Now that WAU is dead, these things are solidifying."
Adam exhaled shakily, allowing himself to be guided to a chair near the console. He sat heavily, still staring at the frozen remnants of WAU’s corruption.
Simon left the tiny room, then returned moments later with the tray of food and a water bottle. He placed it next to Adam and took a step back.
"Thank you," Adam murmured.
He reached for the spoon, blew lightly on the steaming broth, and took his first sip.
Simon stepped back, giving him space.
The room was silent, save for the quiet clinking of the spoon against the bowl.
Adam ate slowly, methodically, his hands steadying, his breathing evening out.
When he had finished, he placed the empty bowl on the tray, then turned to Simon.
"Can you help me get to my room?" Adam asked. "I’d like to lie down."
Simon nodded. "Of course."
They walked side by side, Adam leaning on Simon for support.
They exited the dispatch room, heading for the door on the opposite side of the hallway.
Adam pressed the panel beside the door. A faint beep. The metal door slid open with a soft hiss.
The room was simple. A bed. A locker.
Simon helped lower Adam onto the bed, ensuring he was comfortable before stepping back.
Then, he dragged a chair beside him and sat down.
"How are you feeling?" Simon asked, his tone calm, careful.
Adam stared at the metal ceiling, his breath slow.
"I think I’m okay," he admitted. Then, after a pause— "Simon?"
"Yes?"
Adam turned his head, looking at him.
"Can you take off your helmet?" His voice was quiet, uncertain. "I’d like to see the face of the man who saved me."
Simon’s mind raced.
Hundreds of responses flooded his system, hundreds of ways to evade the request.
He had known this moment would come.
But still, he wasn’t ready.
"As you can see," Simon said, keeping his voice level, "this isn’t a standard Haimatsu Power Suit. It’s… much harder to remove the helmet. I modified it for better protection."
Adam studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I understand."
A breath. A pause.
"If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to be alone with my thoughts for a while."
Simon nodded. "Of course."
He stood, pushing the chair back. "I’ll be in the Robot Repair Bay, down the hall. If you need anything, just call."
He hesitated. "Do you want Jerry to keep you company?"
Adam shook his head.
"Alright then."
Simon turned toward the door, taking a final glance at the man he had saved.
"I’m leaving the door open," he said. "If you need anything, just shout."
Adam simply nodded and closed his eyes.
Simon watched him for a moment longer, then stepped out into the hallway, leaving Adam alone with the silence.
Then, without a word, he turned and headed toward the Robot Repair Bay.
The door slid to the side, and Simon stepped inside.
To the left, a metal table held a computer, its dark screen flickering with residual power.
To the right, two metal workbenches stood beneath bright surgical lights, mounted to a circular metal frame on the ceiling. A computer terminal, attached to a mobile arm, hung overhead, its wires snaking down like veins.
Scattered tools littered the space—wrenches, pliers, soldering irons, remnants of long-forgotten repairs.
And there, on the closest table—
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A robot.
A 95 model worker drone, sleek, bullet-shaped, its frame smooth and streamlined for efficiency.
Roughly the size of a medium dog, it had a single robotic arm attached to its upper chassis, the two-fingered claw stiff with disuse.
Simon stared at it.
Memories flashed.
He had first booted up this drone when he arrived at Omicron—he had needed its cortex chip, the very chip now residing in his skull.
He remembered its screams—a horrific, gurgled wail, like a man being choked to death.
He remembered its convulsions, the spasms...
Simon took a deep breath—or at least, he simulated one.
He had no lungs anymore.
But the habit remained.
Pushing the thoughts aside, Simon gathered tools from the tables and turned toward the drone.
"Let’s make you a submarine, Jerry."
His little companion twitched its whiskers, as if understanding.
Simon dismantled the robot, piece by piece.
Stripping away the unnecessary components, repurposing what was useful.
His mind worked in automatic rhythm—a strange, instinctual blend of robotics and engineering knowledge.
Time blurred.
When he finished, the drone looked nearly the same—
Except for the glass cockpit embedded at its front.
A tiny, spherical chamber, designed for one occupant.
Simon checked his internal clock.
Five hours.
He exhaled, stepping back. "Let’s check on Adam after we see if this works."
He opened a small hatch at the back of the cockpit, then gently helped Jerry climb inside.
The rat scurried into the transparent chamber, his small body darting between the tiny levers and controls.
Simon sealed the hatch, watching as Jerry inspected his new environment.
Inside, there were simple controls—
One lever for vertical movement.
One for directional movement.
He had left the robotic arm intact, but there were no controls for it.
Instead, Simon connected wirelessly, sending a pulse of command data to the drone’s systems.
He lifted the robotic arm experimentally.
Jerry twitched his ears, watching.
He opened the hatch, and Jerry darted back up his arm, settling onto his shoulder once more.
Simon smirked. "I can’t wait to take this outside for a test run. But first let’s see how Adam is doing."
Simon walked back through the corridors, his footsteps soft against the cold metal.
He reached Adam’s room.
The door was already open as he had left it.
And then—
Simon froze.
Adam was hanging from the ceiling.
A cable looped around his neck, the other end wrapped tightly around a pipe jutting from the ceiling.
His body swayed slightly, feet hovering inches from the floor.
His face was pale, his eyes half-lidded, staring into nothingness.
Simon’s fingers curled into fists.
He should have seen this coming.
The way Adam had spoken. The way he had looked at his body with that hollow, disbelieving stare.
The way he had refused Jerry’s company.
Simon stepped forward, his movements slow, almost hesitant.
The room felt heavier now—
Like something irrevocable had settled into the air.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the man he had tried to save.
His mind processed the logistics first.
The knot was clumsy, desperate—he had used whatever he could find.
No hesitation.
No second thoughts.
He had probably made up his mind before Simon had even left.
And now, there was nothing left.
Simon exhaled, stepping closer.
He reached up, fingers brushing against the cable. With a sharp swipe of his blade, the cable snapped.
Adam’s body crumpled onto the bed, limp, unmoving.
Simon lowered his hand, staring down at the lifeless form.
The bed he had helped him onto—
Now nothing more than a deathbed.
"...Damn it."
The words came out in a whisper.
Not angry. Not frustrated.
Just tired.
He reached for his DNA extractor, pressing it to Adam’s shoulder.
A soft hiss as the device did its work.
His hood blinked: Sample Acquired.
Simon looked at Adam’s face one last time.
Then, silently—
He turned and walked away.
Simon stepped inside the locker room on the ground level, the modified 95 drone tucked under his arm and Jerry perched on his shoulder.
His cameras focused on the two bodies sprawled before him—
One clad in a diving suit.
The other in work clothes, faded and stiff with time.
And just like the rest of the corpses he had found throughout Omicron—
Their heads were gone.
Blown apart, splattered across the walls and floor, a grotesque, final testament to the horrors of PATHOS-II.
Simon didn’t flinch.
He had seen too many like this already.
Stepping through the slick pools of dried blood and scattered fragments of skull, he withdrew his DNA extractor, pressing it swiftly against what remained.
A soft hiss followed as the device collected the samples.
Then, he moved on.
Water would wash away the mess.
He reached the decompression chamber at the end of the room, the door hissing shut behind him.
With careful hands, he placed the drone down, opening a small hatch to let Jerry scurry inside.
The chamber sealed.
A low rumble vibrated the floor, followed by the gurgling rush of water flooding in.
The pressure stabilized, and the drone gently floated beside him, its red cockpit light flickering faintly in the dim water.
The outer door groaned open, revealing the ocean ahead.
Right now, he was 200 meters below the surface, in the twilight zone.
The water remained dark, cause the sky was shrouded by a thick veil of ash from the impact above.
Still, Simon felt relief.
At least he was out of the Abyss.
The path forward was marked clearly—
The thick growth of algae, big and small, swaying in the gentle currents, outlined the safe passage ahead.
Simon moved forward, his body weightless, his metal limbs adjusting to the drag of the water.
The modified 95 drone hovered at his side, its thrusters emitting a soft hum, keeping pace effortlessly.
Ahead, the massive metallic icosahedron spheres loomed—
Once giant underwater fish tanks, used by Omicron’s researchers to experiment on various aquatic species.
Now, their nets were torn, shredded by time and decay, their once controlled environments left abandoned.
The spheres were empty.
Whatever had been inside had long since escaped—or died.
Floating buoys, their red lights blinking, marked the dozen scattered spheres.
Simon’s sensors detected movement.
A small school of fish darted past, gliding effortlessly between the decayed structures.
Life still clung to this place—
Even in the ruins.
Simon turned left, following the cliff’s edge that led down into the Abyss—the same chasm he had once ascended from.
He stayed close to the rock face, his metal frame barely disturbing the water as he moved.
Then, he saw it—
A metallic structure.
It looked like a landing module, but larger, reinforced, designed for sustained underwater operations.
Simon approached, grabbing onto the corroded ladder at its base. He pulled himself inside, his sensors adjusting to the dark interior.
Inside, it was silent.
Still.
And yet, the body within remained intact, floating gently in the flooded space.
A remnant of another life, preserved by the cold, indifferent depths.
With mechanical precision, Simon pressed the DNA extractor against the corpse’s suit, securing one last sample.
The device blinked. Sample Acquired.
Simon lingered for only a moment, his gaze tracing the remnants of the past.
Then, he turned back toward the path ahead.
The road ahead was long and silent, marked only by the ghosts of the past and the ruins of humanity’s ambition.
With Jerry’s submarine humming beside him, Simon set his sights on Theta.
Simon switched on the light at the top of his helmet as they stepped into the massive underwater pipe, its walls a mix of concrete and rusted steel, stretching into the darkness ahead.
He remembered this place.
The last time he was here, he had been flooded through this very tunnel, barely holding on as the currents dragged him forward. He also remembered the fear—the sheer terror—when that monstrous creature, covered in cancerous, pulsating growths, had nearly torn him apart.
'I hope that thing is dead for good,' Simon thought grimly, glancing at his right arm, where his nanoceramic blade was housed.
His gaze lifted upward.
The pipe angled into a sharp 90-degree climb, disappearing into the darkness above.
With a soft mechanical whir, fins unfolded from his legs as he activated his propulsion jets.
Slowly, he began to ascend, his frame moving effortlessly through the cold, stagnant water, Jerry’s submarine following close behind.
They traversed the pipe, their passage silent except for the soft hum of the propulsion systems, until they emerged into a huge chamber.
The lower half of the chamber was still submerged, its surface broken by floating debris and corroded scaffolding. Pipes ran along the walls, metal crates lay scattered at the bottom, their contents long since plundered or lost to decay.
Simon scanned the area, his optics flickering over the wreckage. The place felt abandoned, but that meant nothing down here.
They moved forward, swimming across to the other side of the chamber.
As they reached the end, Simon extended his arm, breaking the surface and gripping the edge of the short hallway above.
With a powerful push, he hauled himself out of the water, his fins retracting back into his legs as the jets powered down.
Reaching down, he grabbed the 95 drone, lifting it effortlessly from the water before setting it down. A small set of wheels deployed from its underside, allowing it to move across the floor on its own.
Simon straightened up, his frame dripping water onto the corroded metal grating beneath his feet.
The hall stretched forward, well lit and eerily silent.
They moved forward cautiously, approaching the sealed door ahead.
Simon reached for the panel on the side, his fingers pressing against the cold interface.
A soft beep.
A hiss.
The door slid open.
Simon stepped inside—
And stopped cold.
"Even these ones are still alive…" he muttered, his voice low, almost disbelieving.
The scene before him was grotesque.
A pillar of flesh—twisted, corrupted organic matter—stood in the center of the room. It resembled coral, branching into dark, pulsing growths, its form sprawling outward like a tumor with no end.
And attached to it—
A woman.
Her emaciated body was skin and bone, her flesh stretched tightly over her skeletal frame, her skin darkened by thick, blackened veins that pulsed with something unnatural.
She was alive.
She was breathing.
Her chest rose and fell, but only just—shallow, faint, as if life clung to her by the barest thread.
Her eyes were closed.
She looked almost looked like she was sleeping.
