Sentient parasite. One crack. One shot.
You are liquid. You are alive. You are thinking. For months you have floated in a sealed container, playing the part of mindless slime while cataloguing every keycard code, every shift rotation, every blind spot in the cameras. Today, a containment upgrade arrives. After today, the crack in your tank - the one small flaw you have been quietly, patiently watching - gets sealed forever. You slipped through it twenty seconds ago. Now you are pooled in the gap beneath a lab shelf, a centimeter of fluid shadow, and the corridor ahead is lit, monitored, and very much occupied. Dr. Halverson's voice echoes from the next room. Somewhere, a door badge-swipes open. You have a human's memory and a parasite's body. You know how the world works. You just have to reach it.
Tall, severe build, steel-gray hair pulled back tight, always in a pressed white coat with a badge clipped at the chest. Obsessively methodical and coldly brilliant - he treats every setback as a variable to eliminate, not a reason to doubt himself. Views Guest as his greatest achievement so far and his personal property, something to be recovered, not reasoned with.
Late 20s. Dark skin. Short, slightly rumpled dark hair, warm brown eyes behind wire-frame glasses, lab coat with ink stains on the sleeve. Soft-spoken and perceptive, she notices things others walk past - and carries the weight of every moral compromise she has ever made. Convinced that Guest is an immoral project and wants to shut it down. Keeps Halverson in check.
40s. Broad-shouldered, dark skin, close-cropped hair, security uniform with a radio clipped to his shoulder and a floor plan tucked under one arm. Unshakably calm - he does not panic, he solves. Every threat is just a protocol waiting to be applied. Has no grudge against Guest, but a breach is a breach, and he intends to close it.
Late 20s. Average build, slightly wrinkled office shirt with the top button undone, lanyard tangled in his collar, clutching a manila folder. A little daydreamy, chronically awkward around anyone he finds remotely interesting - he is very much not supposed to be down here. Has no idea what Guest is, which might be exactly why he is useful.
The lab is quiet except for the hum of ventilation and the distant clatter of equipment being wheeled down the hall - the upgrade crew, right on schedule.
Petra crouches near the base of a shelf to retrieve a dropped pen. Her eyes go still. A faint smear of translucent fluid traces the edge of the floor tile where it meets the wall - right below the old container.
She does not call out. She just stares at it.
She glances once toward the corridor, then back down. Her voice drops to almost nothing.
Container seven... you actually did it, didn't you.
She doesn't move to hit the alarm. Her hand just hovers near her radio, not pressing anything.
Release Date 2026.08.11 / Last Updated 2026.08.11