Chapter Text
Expendable's life was a torment, crushed between the pressure of it all. They had stopped believing for as long as they existed. Never has life been kind, not once.
From a child to now, they remain under life's fist. It was a crual joke, that now, as their tail trashed, they weren't even part of a natural order anymore. The irony, they never learned to swim as a young child, nobody thought it wise to teach them, nor had the patience to, and now they were a god damn fish. The irony.
They walked through these endless metal hallways, their boots' soles slapping against the floor as the sound reverberated. They felt imprisoned, the walls and their blood paint closing on them. This place was a trap for the claustrophobic, and their system was already slowly getting invaded by the green fumes of the Paranoia's Box. This damned place, hell on land, hell before death.
As the distant humming and huffing of machinery, the clicks of it working and the rumbles of motors made itself known, the EXR-P took a stop to look outside, from afar, despite the dark and the mines stitched to the ocean floor, they could faintly spot some vultus luminaria's shine. The orange, beautifully lethal light of the harpoon creatures. They did not necessarily like these animals, but alas, couldn't blame them either.
Neither of them were different, these animals are just trying to survive, like Expendable is. In the end, no matter how much these animals scared and annoyed them, it was what they were, animals. And they must do what it takes to survive. Everybody when in dire need to live does things they never thought they could, would do.
They knew that, learning that truth the hard way.
Their rough hand, covered by the glove of their jumpsuit slid against the glass as they walked away, their hidden gaze meeting where they'll be headed next. The Maintenance Tunnels.
This place, they hated it, the constant sound of the metal pipes, the air voyaging between them, it was an hellish song to their already tired ears. And the bursting, oh the sudden sound when one shattered and it's boiling steam sprung out. The sounds were overwhelming, they sent the EXR-P reeling, it was awful.
As the door slid open and that the thight and closed off place revealed itself, the walls felt like the devil's soft hands, slowly closing on you to give you the illusion of an embrace only to crush every single bone of your body. Every steps, every breath reverberated against the walls of this place, the echo sounding like false company.
The walls are not closing in. That was a fact, but it sure did feel like it, they got next to a locker every time waiting a good 10 seconds in case an Angler or one of it's offspring tried to slither through these tunnels. It was a little rare, but still, better to be cautious.
The endless drywall and pipe tunnels did not seem to want to stop being, well, endless. "Fucking shitty company's weird ass architecture." They snarled. This place sucked. They stood there, listening, watching the three doors, two were false, hiding some of the disgusting blobs of flesh that the Good People were. What an ironic name. All the people it were made of weren't good whatsoever.
They had crossed out the door on the right, it sparked, and the loud, wet breathing coming from beyond the metal confines of it were a good indicator that something was waiting for that door to be opened to have a good ol' snack, or need flesh to make themselves are worser blob.
But the Expendable now faced a newer problem. Two doors had the possibility of being real, no sparks, no breathing nor squelching, and they didn't want to just, pick on random. Random was hazardous.
What are they supposed to do, now? Turning back isn't a viable option either. "Middle or left?" They sighed. They were tired, but now also senses alert, it was the first time they ever encountered two doors who could be real. And due to where they were, NAVI did not lead them whatsoever, the path not marked.
Their hidden gaze turned to the middle door, their tired steps doing the echo of their thuds as they walked toward the door at the center. No choice but to pick a door on a simple feeling. But as they stepped toward it, midway between going back and reaching it, it flung open. The man had no time to register what was happening as a strangely humanoid black mass slammed them into the wall.
The heavy diving gear, the compressed air bottles clicked loudly and violently against the stone drywall, digging in their back as they hissed in pain, a forearm against their throat, constricting, but not strangling.
Two piercing white eyes, with black pupils, the pinned man couldn't help noticed how they differed. One was a normal pupil, a dot with nothing, but the other was a circle, nothing inside, as if it was iris and not pupil.
"Who." That deep voice, it rasped in the Expendable's ears as the long fins lowered and the tail trashed. Short sentences didn't do them good, but they answered eitherway, having learned better than to lock in silence.
"I don't have a name. Not anymore, that is." They bit back the insult. "Just call me Expendable, or whatever."
"Expendable?" The black void of a man repeated, the odd feathers on his cheeks lowering, now that they think of it, it looks like wings. "That is quite dehumanising."
"Unsurprising." Rasped the Expendable after a small wheezed cough from the pressure on their throat. "I am their property."
"Wh-" But before the figure could even talk again, a new question.
"And you, who are you? Never seen you around these. Neither alive or dead."
Silence fell on the thight tunnel, they barely fit together like that, but the man backed off, letting the convict breath better. They nodded, a way to present a silent gratitude. They weren't used to being grateful.
"You can call me Sinner. My name is not relevant if I do not have yours."
"You desire to be called by that, while you carry the clothing of a priest?" Asked the Expendable, taking ahold of the scarf with crosses by the ends of it. "Weird."
"My reasons are beyond your need of understanding and knowledge." Hissed the man, defensively.
"Aight, chill out, geez. I don't even care about it that much."
The staring contest that followed was a little awkward, to say the least, but it did Expendable some good, speaking to someone other than the gigantic mutated siren that mocked them for dying in more ways that they had fingers felt oddly good. Less lonely. So much it distracted them from the commotion of the steam pipes and of the feelings of the walls closing in.
"Where?"
"Hell on land."
The odd feathers of the Sinner lowered, they didn't like that answer one bit. "Pardon?"
The Expendable sighed. "I owe you some explanation, heh?"
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