Kat!

You tended to other things. Data reviews and documentations are your best friends now. Updating anything new that's happened from the older files of the first couple of days. It was boring work, but you preferred it now to being all hands in.

It helped to keep you away from the tank. You hadn't stepped near it since that night.

You needed the distance. You needed to detach; you couldn’t become obsessed over a creature. Yet most nights, the temptation kept you up. So you did what you could, you started to sleep less, and your home became more of an extension of the lab. Papers were scattered everywhere, textbooks you had thrifted on every table you owned. Parts highlighted, you had already memorized them from cover to cover.

It was driving you crazy; you even started to watch that darn show, Siren. 3 Seasons of it, anytime you could just figure out anything. You sat through it, not just read a summary like the first time. You felt ridiculous. You really liked the characters and the lore around the show. It wasn't like the show would be factual; it was pure fiction.

The world didn't know they existed yet.

You often wondered as you watched if the siren in the tank had the same behavior as the one in the show. Did he have traditions? Culture? How did they communiate upon eachother?

So many questions you had, but they would remain unanswered. You sometimes muted the show whenever the sirens were present. Just looking at their mannerisms, how they communicated with their arms. You'd also wondered what would happen whenever the government got its hands on him.

Would they experiment on him like the show imagined? You didn't like thinking about it; you had always been against those experiments on any creature. Especially intelligent ones, which he has proved to be. Sometimes you would be curled up in your room with the hoarded mess of papers. On the quietest nights, you would feel something.

A pull.

A thought you had no control over since that fateful night.

Go into the water.

You always shut that thought down immediately. You have never been a reckless person, nor were you stupid. You understood what could happen if you even entertained that specific thought. You knew there was a huge chance of being yanked in and torn into pieces if you did. You weren't going to climb into the tank just because of a feeling.

But the thought never really went away; it just kept returning. It was patient; you didn't know how much longer you could push the thought away.

You also found another thing strange.

Longer showers helped ease the ringing in your ears; how you figured it out was a coincidence. You would spend a few extra minutes under the spray after you finished your routine. It was calming, more relaxing than it used to be. The ringing would dull just enough to give you a break.

You had started to take baths as well. Something you didn't normally do, as showers were more efficient, you would sink down till the water reached your collarbones and relax.

The world felt okay again whenever you were in a bath or shower. The ringing dulled, and you would sleep better as well.

It started becoming routine. Go to work, avoid the tank, documentation, and then water.

On your rest days, you found yourself walking towards the coast without meaning to. You did stay awar from the facility as you didn't want to think about work. You came here just for the scenery and air, you kept telling yourself.

You would stand on the sand, as you watched the tide roll in and out, your hands in your pockets. Humming to yourself, enjoying the ocean the ringing never bothered you here. It actually seemed to disappear completely when you were near the ocean. Your gaze never falls to the facility; you couldn't think about the project here, work needed to stay at work.

But then again, the state of your home said otherwise.

Sometimes you could go in the water, not fully. Just ankle deep if you were feeling up for it. You feel better like this, in the water, like you were the damn mermaid here. But a quiet thought would surface in your mind.

'He used to live in this.'

You would immediately step back out of the water whenever it came to mind.

The morning meetings have gotten shorter and shorter over these 3 weeks.

You remember the beginning, how everyone cracked jokes about mermaids, and there was some enthusiasm about learning more about the creature. New theories, new ideas on how to take care of it. The novelty of a mermaid carrying the room then.

It's been tired eyes and frustration for god knows how long now.

You sat near the edge of the table; the others had bored expressions. They hated the briefings, someone tapping on the table. Another one yawned; someone else was just scrolling on their phone. Dr. Naomi stood at the head of the table, her tablet in hand as she scrolled through the morning reports.

She was focused as always, with that smile plastered on her face. A smile you've come to find a bit creepy. "Alrightly! Updates! Does anyone have any updates?"

The room was silent momentarily,

before Sean stood up. “We ran another feeding test last night.” Shaking his head, “Calamari again, no response.”

She nodded as she wrote things down on her tablet.

“Maybe try some scallops?” Someone mumbled, “I think he took that once.”

Dr Naomi spoke, “No, that’s already logged here..He still prefers the calamari. But he won’t surface while anyone is in the room to eat.”

"That's groundbreaking." Another voice came dryly. A few quiet snickers circled the table. Naomi didn't react, just hummed as she kept on smiling. Tapping on the screen as she moved to the next thing.

"Environment readings?" She asked, looking around.

"It's stable." Someone answered, "The temperature is balanced. Salinlity also, we did adjust the filtration slightly last night. Nothing too dramatic for him." She nodded once as she mentioned for them to continue.

Everything felt too mechanical; there was no passion in the project anymore. This wasn't like previous projects everyone had been assigned to; hell, they consider the other teams lucky not to be dealing with this. No one is allowed to speak about the West Wing either; some have even quit on the project altogether.

From a decent-sized team, reduce to only about 15 of you. Those who did leave had to sign NDA's to never speak about what was researched during their time there. Yet Dr. Naomi still kept up the smiles, she was the head of the team afterall.

You kept your eyes on the projection, taking in every slide that would be shown. Just listing the minor observations, the usual ones you would hear every day.

None of it brought him closer to the surface of the tank. None of it brought the answers everyone desperately needed. Naomi glances up from her tablet. "We'll maintain the current observation rotations..nofity me if anything changes." And with that, that concluded the morning briefing.

You made your way back to your desk. Trying to organize the mess of thoughts you had written in sticky notes around your desk. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair, you've grown to ignore.

The West Wing was quieter during the day than the first. Fewer voices, fewer laughs. You even felt like your breaths were too loud sometimes. Across from you, one of your coworkers, Evan, rolled his chair closer to you.

"Two more resignations this week." He mumbled, "Did ya hear about it?"

You glanced at him, shaking your head. "No, I havent."

"Yeah." He adjusted his glasses, "Two techs and one of us. Naomi tried to convince them to stay, but-" He shrugged, "I even heard she offered an increase in their salary, but no one wants to deal with a project going nowhere."

You hummed quietly, listening. As you scrolled through files on your computer, "Not everyone wants to deal with that, I guess. It is easy work, but ehh." You'd wondered how long it was going to take before the funding was cut off.

You'd wonder what would happen to him, would he be sent somewhere else? Or do the more humane thing, and let him go back into the ocean. It was like he had read your mind. Evan leaned back in his chair, glancing towards the tank in the middle of the room. Nothing there to see, too boring to look at, but he did so anyway. After a moment, he turned back towards you, lowering his voice.

"Honestly, I'm surprised Naomi hasn't pulled the plug yet. She must see a diamond in the rough for this darn project."

You replied, "Maybe she's super passionate about it. She's always smiling when I see her." Shrugging as you exited out of some tabs.

"That is one way to put it."

Silence had settled between the two of you; it wasn't awkward just there. Silence was only broken by the typing of others or the hum of the equipment in the tank. You were keeping your eyes on the screen, but you still didn't like looking at the tank.

Then Evan's chair fucking creaked. "...Hey."

Something in his tone made you pause, "What?"

He didn't answer immediately. You heard him shift in his chair again, the sound of the chair turning ever so slightly towards the side of the tank. "Uh, not to alarm you." He said slowly, "Is he usually,,up that high?"

Your stomach tightened, and you snapped your head towards the direction of the tank before you could stop yourself. The tank, as you remembered, had water that tinted the tank a deep blue that darkened towards the bottom.

It was common knowledge that he stayed there at the bottom. He was barely visible unless someone really leaned in to get a look at the bottom. He wasn't at the bottom anymore.

He had risen slightly halfway high, his body floating. He must've moved not too long before Evan noticed, the water around him still rippled faintly. He wasn't scanning the room.

He was looking directly at you.

Even through the thick glass, there was no mistaking it.

His gaze was steady and unblinking, fixed on you. And just you, it was giving you fucking goosebumps.

Evan spoke, “Guess he finally got curious huh-?” His laugh was uneasy. You just nodded slightly, as you maintained eye contact. Knowing you wouldn’t look away now.

The others hadn’t noticed just yet, Evan was still talking to you but his words seemed to blur in your mind. And there it was that damn ringing again. Here you were still trying to ignore the obvious.

You were thinking it was just a coincidence, that anyone could’ve caught his attention in the room. Anyone else could be of better interest for him, those who feed him regularly should be better interest.

He was just there; he didn’t move. Didn’t swim around, not like there was much room for him to anyway. Your eyes remained locked on his, and vice verasa. You heard a chair scrape across the floor behind you. "Oh my god- oh my god!" A voice cut through the quiet room.

That's what set it off, turned heads. As the room filled with voices, some confused, some in pure shock to actually see a clear view of him. You felt the entire atmosphere change around you. Someone stood too quickly, bumping into a desk to get a good look from the distance they were.

One of the last techs in the West Wing who was closest to the tank walked forward, her hands pressed to the glass. "Holy shit." She breathed, tilting her head up, getting a good look. That was all it took for everyone else to sit up.

Half of the room surged up toward the tank, crowding it. Someone was even tapping the glass to get the Siren's attention. It didn't, but they were still fascinated by him.

"Someone get Naomi- shes gonna want to see this-" Evan said as he also decided to take a closer look, leaving you at your desk.

"I'll call her-"

"No, go get her, she's probably upstairs."

You remained in your seat, like you were glued to it. You didn't mind the feeling as you didn't want to get close to him. Some started to speculate as to why he decided to come up.

"Is he reacting to light change? Maybe the temperature?"

They had already started to theorize while capturing his stance. Studying it, this project depended on it. Some took a picture with their phones, which would be wiped clean before they stepped out of the West Wing. Nothing could be leaked out of this side of the facility.

The energy in the room hasn't been like this since the first days. Of course, it exploded. Everyone waited for weeks for something to happen. Even when it's just him floating above his usual spot? It's something, being able to see a clearer picture of the siren who is being held captive.

Captive, right.

An intelligent creature being held captive for humans to pick at. Society will call it a breakthrough; you might've even called it one as well. But since that incident, you just can't see it that way anymore.

They weren't noticing what you did. While they were surrounding the tank, arguing about what the cause could be. He still wasn't looking at them, not tracking their movements at all. Even with the constant tapping on the glass to get his attention, or pointing something out on his body.

The door swung open as one of your coworkers and Dr. Naomi stepped inside. Both were slightly out of breath as she regained her composure. "What's going on?" Half of the room started talking at once, which would be overwhelming for any person.

Naomi raised her hand, quieting down the voices as she stepped towards the tank to look. Her eyes widened, breath hitched as she saw the siren. There was something in her expression, nothing like you've seen from her.

It was an expression that was mesmerized. Something finally happened. For a moment, she didn't say anything, gears turning in her head as she continued to stare at the siren in the tank. The siren remained suspended in place; his body was almost motionless. His hair floated faintly around his shoulders. Naomi was unsure as to why he wasn't moving, nor why he had floated up from his usual spot.

Her lips parted slightly, "Well." She mumbled, "Look at that." A genuine smile spread across her face.

Behind her, Sean hurriedly walked to her side, explaining the events prior to her arrival. "It's his first voluntary surfacing during observation hours." He cleared his throat, "Evan saw him emerge, is that correct?" Evan quickly nodded as he explained.

Naomi nodded once, thoughtful, as she continued to stare at the siren. "Interesting. So he floated up for no reason." Mumbling to herself.

You, on the other hand, were still trying not to freak out. Not to cause a scene, trying to act like everything was fine. As you tried not to look directly at him again, your eyes occasionally went back to look. Maybe his attention went to someone else, but every time you did, those eyes of his were pierced onto you.

You were trying to occupy your mind with work, scrolling on your computer. Like it wasn't strange, you were the only one who didn't care that he let himself be seen. You were unaware that an idea was forming in Naomi's mind.

You weren't noticing what she was doing. Her eyes shifted across the room just slightly. Naomi was following the gaze of the siren, trying to figure out what it was looking at. There was still excitement in the room, everyone was relieved that he emerged up. Everyone started to write their hypothesis as to why. Environmental triggers, maybe the filtration that was changed the previous night. Maybe it made him more active, or it was bothering him at the bottom of the tank. The noise seemed to dull as things were connecting.

She wasn't looking at the tank anymore; she was looking at you. She was sure the siren was looking at you. Still seated at your desk, eyes glued to the computer. She was putting two and two together. The siren didn't care about the others, didn't care when she approached the tank.

His eyes unmoving, shes guessing his gaze has been stuck on you. Her gaze kept flickering between the two of you, as a small crease formed between her brows.

"...Huh." She said quietly.

You sit up slowly, your feet finding the cold floor as you rubbed your eyes. Everything aches, even if it’s a dull feeling. There was nothing to push your adrenaline up to the max, nothing to study for not for a couple of hours anyway.

Your side of the dorm was a bit of a mess, books scattered everywhere. You don’t pick them up, not yet at least. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, with your things under one arm. This was routine, you just had enough time today to take your time.

You stared at your reflection a bit longer than necessary. You looked tired, evident to the eye bags that seemed to get darker and heavier as the days passed.

You needed an actual break from this bs, not just one day to rest. You shook your head, as you headed back towards your dorm room.

You put on a comfortable outfit for the day, as comfortable as you could be. You half made your bed, and picked up your books. Placing them as neatly as you could on your desk, along with picking up whatever else was on the floor.

Your mind wandering as you cleaned up your side. Your roommate must’ve gone early for her class, she’ll be back soon enough. You were also having a strange sense that you were forgetting about something. You thought about it a bit more, you didn’t have any lab assignment to turn in, no exam to study for yet.

It wasn’t anything to trigger panic inside you, but it was bugging you. But not enough to have second thoughts, you just ignored the feeling.

Today was supposed to be laid back, a quiet day. A day to breathe before the loop repeats itself, you crawled back into bed. Grabbing your laptop from your desk as you balanced it on your knees. Rewatching a show you knew well enough, just a refresher. The episodes blurred together as you spent hours watching, slowly sinking more and more into your mattress.

You did end up dozing off after a couple of episodes.

The door opening jolted you awake, blinking rapidly as your eyes were adjusting. Your roommate, drops her bag on her side of the floor kicking off her shoes as she frowned. “Group projects are so fucking eugh, stupid.” She announced to you as she plopped down on your bed.

You grumbled, as she continued talking. “I swear professors just assign them just to make us suffer.”

You nodded, as you sit up a bit to give her more room to sit. “Bad day huh?”

“Uh huh.” She exhaled, “We have to share a canvas, half and half. But my partner hasn’t begun on his part. I have my sketch done and he was on his phone the whole time.” She let out an obscene amount of curses, she was frustrated and annoyed.

You hummed, sympathizing with her. Your brain barely catching on as you woke up minutes ago. “That sounds…yikes. You should speak with your professor to switch.” You say, your voice a little raspy from your nap.

“I really should! Ugh! Be real with me right now,” She scooted closer, “Have you ever had a shitty group for a class?”

You blinked, and blinked.

….

Your heart drops to your stomach.

That’s what you fucking forgot. Everything hitting you like a brick, history, and your partner James. Or Bucky, whatever you’ll figure out what to call him. You yanked your phone in a flash, looking at your calendar.

Maybe you got the date wrong, maybe it’s tomorrow or something.

…It’s today.

Your roommate was just about to ask you if you were okay since you went quiet, when you booted upright. She yelped scared shitless from the sudden moment, “Whoa! What is wrong with you?!”

“I- oh my god-“ You stuttered out, looking at the time.

You were 20 minutes late already.

“Oh fuck!” Panic setting in already. Putting your phone in your pocket as you got your bag, shoving your history notebooks and your laptop. Your roommate was confused, “What? What happened?”

You had no time to put together a decent outfit, you were in pjs. “I’m late- oh my goddd-“ You whined. You opened your closet and started digging for anything. “Late for what? Dude you’re weirding me out-“

“Late for-“ You say, grabbing a random hoodie and yanking it over your head. “I have- ugh- I I made plans for a project- and I forgot-!”

“A project? Girl yikes, can’t you text them you’ll be a little late?” You shoved your feet into some sneakers, as you got embarrassed. “I don’t- uhm..” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, “I don’t have his number…” You mumbled half way through the door.

“I’ll be back soon!” You shouted out, already speed walking towards the cafe.

You should’ve ran, but you didn’t want to get looks by others. Your dorm was a bit far from the cafe, so you really had to take shortcuts.

Your bag kept hitting your side with each step, your hoodie was rather crooked. It wasn’t that long of a distance from your dorm. But the thought of being late had you speed-walking towards the cafe by the library. You didn’t slow down, even if you were starting to huff and puff just a little.

You don’t stop till you yank the door open, the bell above the doors rings as you stepped in.

Your eyes immediately scan the room, trying, praying to find a familiar figure in the bustling cafe. Until you finally spotted him. By the window, he’s still there. Sure, it hadn’t been that long of a wait, but if it were you? You wouldn’t been gone after the first five minutes, your time needed elsewhere.

Bucky was sitting at a small table, with a coffee to his right side. He had a notebook open in front of him, he wasn’t on his phone. And he wasn’t packing to leave, he looked up the second you started approaching the table.

Whatever expression he had on before had soften a bit when he saw you.

“Oh my god.” You say already feeling yourself getting embarrassed. “I am so sorry. I swear- I didn’t mean to come late.”

He nodded, “It’s okay.” He said quickly, “I figured something must’ve came up.”

You shook your head, “I completely forgot about it, watched a show and took a nap. Something my roommate said reminded me.” You said breathless, you actually felt bad for having such a bad excuse.

That earns you the faintest smile from him, “I’ve been there, I wasn’t in a rush.” You sat in the chair across from him, taking catching your breath. “Still that’s on me, didn’t set a reminder or anything how sloppy.”

“You’ve made it, that’s what matters.” He put it simply, “Don’t worry about it now.”

You nodded, the embarrassment still there in you. But it started to subside, looking up at him. “Okay, yeah okay.” You smiled slightly, “We definitely need to exchange numbers. In case I ever do this again.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It’s a bit dated, maybe a couple of years but it’s usable. “Probably a good idea.”

He slides it towards you, screen lit. As you grabbed it and typed in your number, now the real thing begins.

You would love to learn about history if you had the time to give a damn about it. Your other classes were located in a different building from your history class. You would have to haul ass to the different building in order to make it in time.

The damn professor had attendance as a requirement, and he'd take points off for being late for the day. Twice a week, you would be in the classroom listening to the lecture. Your notebook is always open, yet you barely take notes. Your professor would talk about treaties, revolutions, England etc. Everything would go out one ear and out the other.

You could always check the chapters after class whenever you needed to take a quiz. Most of the time, you're trying to cram in information from your other classes into your brain. You would leave the lecture thinking what the day had in store for you next. Labs, studying for exams, how many hours of sleep could you get before the day repeats once again.

You didn't pay much attention to the others in the class. It used to be full on the first day, but fewer and fewer people showed up as the weeks passed. Just a little more than ten people. It was always quiet in there; the others didn't socialize among themselves either.

Sometimes you fall asleep, and you never participate whenever he asks a question. You were going to get through this class; it was just an obligation. After this quarter, this class will just be a fuzzy memory to you.

You've set up alarms every 5 minutes or so. You were horrible at waking up, which was valid considering the number of all-nighters you have pulled. You groaned as you shut off the 4th alarm. You had enough time to get yourself ready.

You rolled out of the bed, rubbing your eyes as you stood there. Your dorm was quiet, your roommate still asleep. She was an art major; it was stressful, but it didn't compare to you.

You really didn't want to go to your classes today, but you had to remind yourself that this is what you signed up for. One quick shower later, you threw on whatever clothes and grabbed your backpack. Heading out of the dorm to start your day.

Your backpack is heavier than it needs to be, and you overprepare for each lecture. You don't have anything organized in your backpack, because you didn't have the time to. You barely made it to your first lecture of the day, coffee in hand, because you decided to stop at a vending machine. Half of it was already gone as you took your seat.

Your biology class came first. Note-taking, asking questions. Something you were interested in, though your professor talked faster than you could write. You still managed, taking pictures of the whiteboard when needed, and you had to keep up. Anything the professor said stayed in your mind.

You wrote a reminder about a quiz that was due the following week, 'Great, another quiz,' You thought to yourself. Your hand is burning after nonstop note-taking; you couldn't stop.

After that came your biology lab, following the instructions from the teacher and your group, which was one of the easier labs you've had in a while. It was easy; you actually enjoyed the lab. But then your professor mentioned an exam about the labs you recently did.

You groaned in response, taking a mental note.

Then came your psychology class, easy enough. No labs involved here, just simple note-taking. This professor was very laid back, and this class was your highest grade next to history. But you enjoyed the atmosphere, participating occasionally when you were interested in the chapter for the week, you felt like this class went by too quickly.

It was interesting to learn about the factors of the brain and its behavior. Learning about illnesses made your mind more open.

You ate a snack, barely anything to get you by another class. Definitely one of the more challenging classes you have. Statistics were difficult for you; having to analyze patterns in numbers was a bit tricky. Yet you managed today, even if you were beginning to feel tired.

You still pull through sitting through the class as you continued to learn the way of statistics, the classes were almost done. Just needed to get through one more.

By the time your last class, history rolls around, you feel like a squeezed-out lemon.

Your last class of the day, and the most boring. History wasn’t hard for you, but it was time consuming. Too late to be dropping the damn class, you didn’t want a W on your transcript. You got yourself something from the student store, just a sandwich and some water to keep you going for the class.

You sat in your unassigned seat watching your other classmates start to fill in the room. Tuning out the voices, as you ate your sandwich, waiting for your professor to arrive. Unaware that todays class won’t end the way the others time this class had.

Lecture starts how it usually does, your professor coming in a little late. Having small talk about their day, before turning on the projector to show today’s chapter lecture.

You tried to follow, you really did.

Today’s topic was of political decisions and discourses in American History. Leading towards Wars you were familiar with. It was basic knowledge that would overly discussed in this class, these political figures were long gone. This history happened before you.

Your pencil moved across the page, copying names of important figures in this chapter, events that happened on certain dates. But your thoughts kept drifting off, your eyelids closing occasionally. Thinking of studying for your quizzes, how you still haven’t turned in a lab report which was due soon. To what you were eating for dinner, or if you were going to crash out to your friends again in the middle of the night.

At some point you had stopped writing, still lost in thought. But eyes still staring at the screen, you still hear your professor, but the words were barely registering in your brain.

You yawn frequently in this class, you covered your mouth with your hand. You already felt angsty, itching to get out of this lecture and go back to your dorm. Your mind and body were done for the day, it was clear you barely gave a fuck about this class. The class with least priority, your notes had shown it. Turning through old notes from weeks ago, barely any information on each page. Sentences cutting off, you remember thinking you’ll write it later when you had the time.

You never did, but you were still passing.

Your professor stopped mid sentence, checking the clock. Half way there, there was enough time. They exited the chapter, and clicked on a different slideshow. Apologizing for the sudden change of topic, “Alright, focus here everyone. I know notes are boring but this is important!” That caught your attention, as your eyes focused on them. You were actually listening for the moment, “Before we finish this chapter, I want to remind everyone about our upcoming group project.”

Your eyes widened a bit, trying to recall about a project. Right right, you skimmed through the syllabus the first week, but you remember something about a project. That back then, seemed weeks away before you had to deal with it. Because that was a problem for future you, which is now your problem.

“This project, will make up a big part of your final grade. Fail to do it? You’ll might have to retake the class.” They shrugged, before they started clicking through slides. “You’ll be assigned in groups.”

Assigned groups, you tensed slightly, as the others groaned, some whispered. The others were very familiar with each-other, you weren’t.

You sit still, not looking around. You knew you were FUCKED. And you knew you were going to start to cram in some studying for this class in your busy schedule.

Perhaps you should’ve been paying attention…

Your professor continued, “For this class..we’ll be keeping groups small. Two per group, since this is such a small class.”

Two isn’t terrible, it’s a little scary yeah. Not knowing anyone here is a little nerve racking, but it’s manageable. You can squeeze in some time to work on the project, based on their schedule not yours. You were already trying to figure out how this was going to work.

The slide changed to another, names appearing next to each-other. As your professor started to read the names out loud. You didn’t even want to look at the list, you just listened. Stress was slowly creeping towards you, bit by bit.

The others don’t complain on who they get, you even heard two of them sigh in relief as they were grouped together. You knew you wouldn’t recognize who you were grouped with, you only knew a couple of names. But it was only names that came before you during attendance.

And then you heard your name, “You’ll be working with James.”

You frowned as you tried to recall a James here.

James

James

James…

You had no clue who the hell that was, you’re James partner. But you didn’t know where to look, your eyes turned from right to left. No one on those sides were acknowledging you in a ‘Oh I’m your partner’ type way.

Your professor had already moved on to the next pair. As you were still looking, before you turned behind you. Scanning the back of the room, your gaze catches a man who was in the corner more or less. He looked a bit older than most students, he was broad-shouldered, straight posture. It looked like he was also scanning the room his eyes meeting yours.

For a moment, you both stare at each-other.

He then gives you a small polite nod, an acknowledgment. He knew you were his partner for the project and vice versa. You nodded as well, before you turned back to face the front. You didn’t know why you’d felt nervous about it.

You’ve done plenty of group projects before, so what’s the challenge in this one? You gripped your pencil, turning to another page in your notebook. Writing his name under group project.

Your professor explained the outlines of it, it was simple enough. Being considerate that their students had other classes as well, but it still followed the topics of the course.

You would have to analyze, a historical event that has been mentioned in the chapters. It could be a war, it’s basically free for all. If you picked a war you would analyze how it affected civilian life in said country.

Your brain felt like it was going to short circuit. As after they explained the instructions they went back to the chapter for note taking.

Lecture ended how it always does, your professor wishing you luck on the project. Reminding you all when it’s due, and how there’s more information on the courses page. “I expect some updates next week, if you have any questions please email me.” Before they were already out the door.

You heard chairs scrape against the floor, as the other began leaving. Conversation starting up already, you overhearing some ideas some of them had. You did try to pay attention at the last bit of class with notes. Still incomplete sentences everywhere, but it looked more neat than the other pages. You needed to now, you felt stupid for forgetting on something this important when you were on top with your other classes.

You closed your notebook, as you slid it in your backpack. Frowning as you did so, already feeling stressed of something that hasn’t started. Zipping up your backpack and slinging the strap on your shoulder.

History was over for today, you can worry about this when it was time to study later in the day. Your mind was already going into autopilot, you were halfway out of the class when you heard a voice behind you.

“Hey! Uh-“

You blinked, as you stopped walking. Turning fully so you could face the voice that was talking to you.

It was him, James.

You noticed more things, that you weren’t able to notice at the first glance you had almost a hour ago. He’s taller than you, more than you expected. He looked a little tired, but not like how you did. It was more settled, as he learned how to live with the exhaustion of life. Yet his expression was relaxed, compared to yours probably frowning. Or you’d looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

“I just wanted to talk about the project.” He said, noticing his voice was really quiet. Like he didn’t want to take much space, maybe not fond of his own voice. “If you have a minute.”

You did technically, you could spare some time to talk to your partner. You nodded, “Yeah, yeah sure.”

You both walked into the hallway, being mindful of other people walking to their classes. Moving to the side, “I’m James.” He hesitated for a bit, “Most people call me Bucky.”

You nodded, “I’m-“ You stopped yourself obviously he already knew your name. “Yeah, hi.” There was a bit of silence, a bit awkward but not unbearable. “…I was thinking we could meet sometime this week.” He continued, “To go over ideas, figure out what we want to write and approach.”

You registered his words, “Okay. That’ll be good.” He seemed relieved that you agreed, how easy it was to agree on something.

“I’m a political science major, so I’m decent with analyzing..if that helps?” You smiled slightly at his words, it brought you relief. Knowing you weren’t too screwed with this project. “I’m pre-med. So history is not really my thing. Requirement you know?”

“That’s fair. We’ll balance it out.” He replied as you nodded. “When are you free?” You asked casually. He thought about it for a moment, remembering his schedule. “I’m off campus, so evenings are usually better for me. But I can be flexible to fit your schedule.”

You gave him a time later in the week, the only time you had available. Maybe you should take less classes next quarter to have more free time. “There’s a cafe near the library, it’s mostly quiet if you want to meet there?”

“That works.” He shrugged, there was another semi awkward pause, “For what it’s worth, I know this class isn’t everyone’s priority.”

You’d huffed, smiling a bit. “That obvious huh?”

“Just a little.” There was the faintest hint of a smile, “Not exactly a quiet yawner..” Your eyes widened, “Oh my god I thought no one would notice- I’m sorry-“ He shook his head, “No need, no judgement here.”

You felt yourself relax afterwards, “Thanks. I’ll try not to be dead weight on you.” You smiled, you actually meant it. Recalling all the times other people would make you do a project by yourself. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” He said it simply.

You nodded, as there was a pause. People walking past you, in their own worlds. Just like you were in your own right now. He hummed, he said what he wanted to say. “I’ll see you then.”

You replied, “Yeah, see you.” Giving him a wave before he turned and headed down the hall. He quickly disappeared among the crowd. You stood there for a moment longer than necessary. As you sighed, reminding yourself.

You still had another thousand things to do.

You clocked in for the day, that smell of the facility hitting you as you walked into the West Wing. You look over towards the tank, and you automatically get goosebumps recalling the events from the previous night.

Scanning the room, nothing seems out of the ordinary; you don't even want to discuss the damn mermaid.

Siren, you corrected yourself, that's a damn siren.

Sirens weren't your thing when you were younger. You tended to pull towards mermaids instead. You did know that sirens tended to be female in mythology, but the one in the tank presented male features. Briefings for the day wouldn't start for a couple of hours, so you figured you should research sirens before you say your great discovery.

What you already know is that they sang songs to pull their targets into a trance. Which could've explained how you were so amazed with his 'song'.

You were the only one who wasn't typing mermaid in the search bar. While the others remained stuck, you were typing siren.

It wasn't whimsical things popping up anymore. Sure, the show siren did come up on the search, but other things did as well. Definitions, articles going more in depth into the mythology of sirens.

Sure, there was talk of their beauty, but that wasn't the thing those articles and other sites were focused on. Mysteries aligning ship wrecks, crews disappearing without a trace. How investigation just ruled it as the crew falling overboard.

You kept on clicking on new tabs, feeling yourself sinking further and further into the rabbit hole.

But it was just things you've already known, their voices being weapons to allure. Fanart, fanfiction scattered in the rolls of pages you looked at.

You couldn't find anything on distorted songs from sirens. Besides the show called Siren. Which was pretty ridiculous for you, you read a whole summary of it, and it was the closest thing that had a distorted song. Main character falls in love with a human a siren who sings her song, and her song is stuck in his head and falls in love with her.

You groaned, shaking your head. That wasn't what you needed right now, especially from a fictional show. You decided to search for something more precise.

'Physiological effects from siren song'

It came up with nothing.

You stared at the tank; he was in there. You knew it, just at the bottom of the tank, his damn vocal cords must be one of a kind if nothing pops up. Granted, the world didn't know his species existed, at least not yet, if this research ever goes public.

You glanced at the time on your computer, ten minutes before the briefing.

You closed all your tabs; most of your open tabs were weird rabbit holes you went into while waiting for the briefing.

You needed to get your thoughts together for what you were going to say. You didn't want to mix up your words or have everything come out in a way that woudn't make sense. As you stood up from your desk, the pressure in your ears flared up again, and you frowned. It wasn't a continuous painful pressure; it was a brief, sharp pain. Which went away afterwards.

You've made a breakthrough, and when everyone is seated, you're going to tell everyone what he truly is, and he is something much more dangerous.

Everyone took their seats in the briefing room, chair scarping on thr flow as conversation overlapped as everyone was settling in for the hour. A small break from nonsense, you could say. You could see Dr. Naomi struggling to set up the projector. You took your seat in the middle, looking around at the others, overhearing someone complain about this 'fairy tale' bullshit.

The projection flickers momentarily, before showing a shitty PowerPoint that was made last minute.

Dr Naomi clapped her hands together as conversation died down as she did so.

"Alright!" She said before turning to the next slide, "We've finally made a bit of progress." A few of your colleagues' heads turned to her, intrigued. "With the help of our own, Sean, everyone thank Sean." She chuckled for a moment as she continued. "Our little mermaid is picky!" She sounded amused, "Hasn't touched the sunfish we threw in for a couple of days. Same behavior we see in other sea life, which is well understandable considering the low nutrition they provide."

A couple nod in agreement, some even smile a bit. It wasn't a big breakthrough, but it was progress after weeks of nothing. Someone snorted, "Guess even mermaids have standards."

Light laughter rippled through the room as you kept your eyes on the projection. Just showing simple slides of every other fish in the tank being eaten, but not the sunfish.

The briefing was light, nothing serious just mostly talk of feeding schedules, perhaps installing cameras back into the tank, how the mermaid didn't seem to be aggressive, never showing any intentions of it. You rolled your eyes as you heard the last statement, not aggressive, my ass.

It eurked you, describing the siren as peaceful, knowing what happened late at night. His webbed hand reaching out for you still burned into your memory.

Dr. Naomi cleared her throat, "Conclusion for now, is that we're dealing with a highly intelligent mermaid. Merman, if you really want to be accurate. As for it always hiding? Possibly stress-induced hostility, but that is to be expected, of course."

The briefing was just side conversations by then; all the important things were out of the way for today. Some had questions which were answered by Dr Naomi. You inhaled as you figured it was finally time.

"Wait-" Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. A couple of heads turned to you.

"Im- okay i'm sorry." You were already feeling nervous, "I just think we might be misclassifying the mermaid." There was a pause, silence filling the room. DR. Naomi smiled a bit before speaking. "Misclassifying? How so?" For a moment, words jumbled in your mind, tangling among each other s your nerves started catching up to you.

All eyes were on you in that very moment, "I don't think it's a mermaid." Your tone was clear as you elaborated. "Everything we are referencing, given the fact that we do not have enough concrete information about, well mythical creatures like him." You felt yourself sweating as you continued. "Mermaids- tend to be more curious. I'm basing this on basic modern folklore- what we have searched on the internet."

A couple of people exchanged looks, and some nodded, listening to your hypothesis.

"If the creature we have sitting in the tank right now were a mermaid, we'd expect exploratory behavior. Social responses, curious about who we are." You cleared your throat, "But what we're seeing here is prolonged withdrawal, selective feeding only when we're gone. Active avoidance of our observation, these connect more to a hostile predator-based classification."s

"So what are you suggesting?" Dr Naomi asked her tone that was a bit amused, skeptical of you.

You hesitated for just a moment before the word rolled off your tongue. "Siren."

Sean snorted, "You've got to be kidding. We get that you have more knowledge of mermaids because you loved them. But you're really pushing it with the siren thing."

"I'm- not-" Trying to defend yourself, "Sirens line up with what we have in the tank currently. They are consistently described as solitary and highly intelligent. If we're going by, say, Greek mythology, it adds up."

"Well, the first thing that comes to mind with sirens is vocals, yet our Mr Gurmpy has shown no evidence-" You cut Dr. Naomi off.

"I'm not talking about vocals- I'm talking about behavior patterns. And our mermaid matches up."

That has everyone's attention now, picking the pieces together. It forms something that actual make sense in this circus of a team.

"I just think- we should stop treating him as a passive creature, not taking what he is seriously. Or we'll miss something important, or worse, get hurt in the process of learning about him."

A pause stretches after you finish talking.

Dr Naomi, who had been listening to you with a smile, exhaled softly. Still amused, but clearly she wasn't impressed. A few people snicker, still not on board with the Siren thing. Some murmuring among each other, you caught a couple of words. Your name, mermaids, and obsessed.

Dr. Naomi tilts her head toward you, "I appreciate your theory, I really do. But it just doesn't seem plausible. We can't overhaul a classification over a hutch without evidence."

"I'm not basing it on a hutch." You say, feeling your heart beating fast," I'm basing it on a direct interaction." That caught her attention, "Direct interaction?" A couple of chairs shifted, and the atmosphere changed.

You nodded, "Yesterday. After hours, I stayed behind finishing up some paperwork. I approached the tank." You paused, carefully choosing your words now, "He responded aggressively."

There was a deafening silence; you could hear a pindrop. Dr Naomi looked at you in confusion, "Aggressive? How?" This was it, the moment you've been waiting for. Another step into this research, this will make or break it. "He struck the glass," You cleared your throat, "Multiple times, with intent. He was screaming-It wasn't from stress. It was targeted; he was aiming directly at me."

Someone let out a snicker before they could stop themselves, clearly not believing you.

Dr Naomi didn't look away from you. Interested, "And this was all recorded?" You blinked as you nodded, "Yes, I believe so- the cameras- audio. I assume it was all logged." She taps her stylus, thinking to herself. Before turning back to her laptop, "Let's take a look then." Turning off the projection momentarily to get the footage from the west wing up and running.

The projection flickered on.

The footage flickered, timestamped. She skipped forward, trying to get to the moment when you were near the tank. You were at your desk for a good while, but you stood up eventually. There you were, standing in front of the tank. You focused on the footage, your heart poundng waiting for the moment he would attack the glass.

The water was still, undisturbed. The footage was clear, as clear as it could be, and it was running smoothly. You see your hand lift to touch the tank. The hum of the tank suddenly cuts off.

It wasn't staticky, nor distorted; it was just gone. A chilling silence, and only the ventilation was heard by everyone in the room. Everyone watches in silence, with you saying something no one could hear on the footage. But you knew what it was.

Where are you?

The footage continued, the audio still gone. The water doesn't move, and nothing is registered in the motion sensors. It was just you, standing there staring at nothing. Your facial expressions could not be seen, as expected for security cameras. Never getting better despite how much technology advances.

You stood there, hand pressed on the glass for a couple more minutes. It looked eerie, just you standing there with no reaction. When you could've sworn you did react when he attacked the glass.

Eventually, you did step back, but not in the panicked way you remembered. But then you stepped back to the tank, the audio coming back in the footage. Like it snapped back into place after cutting itself off.

Your voice seemed a little slurred as it was picked up. "Siren...that's a Siren.."

You don't remember sounding like that.

Dr Naomi just looks at the projection, shes not amused as she was previously. Pausing the footage, "That's weird..the audio cut is too clean. There's no interference.." She clicked another camera angle, checking for anything that could've cut it off. But in all the security cameras by the tank, it cut off in the same timeframe. And it would come back at the same time as well.

She frowned, "Damn faulty cameras.." She grumbled, "Maybe it's even the mics." Making a mental note to contact maintenance to check those out. She can't make something cutting off randomly, might even cut through a breakthrough.

Your stomach twisted, and you shook your head in disbelief. "I didn't sound like that- I wasn't- I didn't-"

Dr Naomi was bust fumbling with the footage, she didn't believe you sure, but that footage seemed too...odd. Sean turned to look at you, "You stayed late, right? Overtime for some paperwork?"

Another voice followed him after you nodded, "So you've barely slept didn't you? I can see your eye bags."

Others started to join in, voices blending into eachother.

"Stress does weird things, you know?"

"Lack of sleep also makes your brain hallucinate. Happened to me once."

You wanted to argue that you knew what you saw last night. How the ache in your ears was proof of it. "I heard him- I heard him vocalize-"

"Then why wasn't its vocalization recorded on the audio files?"

Dr Naomi said, clearing her throat.

"I don't know- something clearly disabled it, I think it might've been him-" You said back, feeling your hands starting to shake. This wasn't recording to plan, you knew what you saw. You weren't hallucinating. "Whoa now, that's some serious accusations of our specimen. Let's not jump to conclusions here."

"I'll have maintenance check the system, maybe your 'proof' is under a corrupted audio file." Her gaze fixes on you, "I'd recommend you take it easy today. Don't tire yourself out today, drink lots of water, and meditate in the break room if you have to." She shrugged, trying to give you accommodations that she would do. "This brief is dismissed."

Conversations picked up where they left off, everyone getting up from their seats. No one looked at you for long, a few eyes avoided yours altogether.

You stood up from your chair like everyone else. Full autopilot, your legs taking you from the briefing room to the main room. Sitting at your desk.

You had been so sure of it; there is nothing but certainty in your heart. All of what you said? Did happen, and you were going to die believing it. But the evidence was clear, your own damn voice making you sound stupid in the footage. You felt your ears turning red; the humiliation was getting to you.

You had seen everyone hear you come up with accusations, a glimmer of hope that there was finally a breakthrough. Only to then see you had no evidence, and you were 'hallucinating' about the siren attacking you. They didn't exactly mock you; they were concerned about your well-being. They moved on with the topic, going back to researching, observing the tank with no luck.

You were just staring at nothing on your computer, occasionally moving the mouse to prevent it from turning off. The lab had many noises, conversations, ventilation, typing, etc.

You wonder what the others thought about you now, a researcher who hasn't been here long, you're known for your little obsession with mermaids from when you were a child. Your ears ached faintly once again.

You grumbled, rubbing the side of your ear.

You had to keep your hands busy like everyone else, even if it wasn't much. You moved along the files of information on the siren. Most were just reports of him doing nothing, from weeks ago. It hadn't changed, and what you dealt with wasn't on file for various reasons. It wasn't reported, deemed a lie.

You've scrolled far enough on the shared files you were able to access. The first few files were dated a couple of days before you were assigned to the West Wing. You blinked, recalling the blacked-out tank outside the facility that night. It wasn't hard putting two and two together. You grabbed a piece of paper to write your thoughts, so you wouldn't get confused. You clicked the files before the footage, wanting to see the data they contained.

Specimen found stuck on an AUV, recovered from said AUV, and taken into custody of the company the facility was linked to. Transported to this facility, noting about his missing limb. No notes on him being aggressive, "Great.." You mumbled to yourself.

There wasn't much about how he got stuck on it, no substantial injuries as far as the document notes. It wasn't well documented, just bits and pieces, which is completely unprofessional. Whoever wrote this slacked off with it. Like there mind wasn't there, you hummed as you clicked on the footage.

The video was grimy, but you were still able to makeout what was playing. The Siren was squeezed into the tank, its shoulders hitting the top of the tank, water deep enough to cover his gills. He barely moves his tail, trying to get as comfortable as possible in such a confined space.

The Siren was quiet, a contrast to the siren from last night. He's mostly trying to adjust and adapt to his confinement. But he's also watchful, his eyes flickering everywhere as if the black tarp would come off the tank. He wouldn't know, but any sound of people walking by, talking near him, he shifted.

You didn't expect these reactions from him. As the footage kept running, he stared directly at the camera. It was unsettling how his pupils dilated as he continued. You wondered what was going through his mind in that moment. Maybe he saw how reflective the lens was on his end. He only stared at the camera for a couple of minutes. Before what was ultimately the last couple of seconds, his fist moved towards it.

You stared at the black screen a little longer than you should've. Your face reflected on the computer. You looked tired, your eyes unfocused. That was the end of the footage; it left you wondering. It was clear before he was thrown into the big tank here. He had figured out cameras, obviously, given the broken cameras in the tank.

You took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

You replayed the footage a couple of times, no matter how many times you did, you were always creeped out by how he just stared.

But the thing that stumped you was everything. You'd still get paid either way if this project progressed or not. But having whatever that was with him? You still remembered how it sounded, a melody that would fade.

Your jaw clenched; you were frustrated at many things today. It all involved him, the Siren. You rubbed the bridge of your nose as a thought came into mind.

It was a stupid one at that, embarrassingly so. You needed to figure out this creature. An idea so stupid that it could put you at risk, going above the tank. Usually, you wouldn't go above it; only those who were tasked with throwing him fish every day would go up there. You wanted to see if he reacted differently when there was no glass, nothing between.

You scoffed at yourself; that damn thing could easily yank you into the tank. And it's in its nature to do so, a reckless idea. You weren't here in the West Wing to do reckless things; you were here to document and research. You weren't going to get yourself hurt in the name of science.

But the thought still lingered longer than it should have in your mind.

You needed a break, turning off your computer and heading to the break room.

Today was just going to be another average day at your workplace. You yawned, as you had come back from work late the previous day. But that's the job you wanted, no? Occasionally, your dream job came with long hours on perfecting reports. You had gotten a coffee from a recently opened cafe shop, and that shit tasted bitter.

You frowned. That wasn't what you had ordered.

You decided to still finish it, as you didn't want it to go to waste. ID in hand as you stepped up towards the building.

You mumbled a good morning as you walked into the main area; you had gotten used to the smell of the lab, saltwater, and disinfectant. Sometimes, if the work was specifically hard that day, you could feel the dread in the atmosphere. There weren't many of your colleagues on the floor yet, you were always understaffed as there weren't many people interested in this profession. You didn't worry, though. Throughout the day, they would clock in, but you just preferred to start earlier as it was quiet.

You settled down into your workspace, looking through the work you had done the previous night. Everything looked right in order, smiling to yourself as you clicked off the tab, checking what your tasks were for the day. You tended not to socialize much with the others, most were either burnt out or stressed on their assignments.

At the moment, you were tasked with sorting through some of the samples brought back from the deep sea. It was just the basics, some kelp, nothing that you couldn't handle. Humming to yourself as you did so, you found it calming when you had to sort out simple things like this. Though you did admire each sample before neatly putting them in a box. That's something this job couldn't drain out of you, your admiration for all that came from the ocean. Big or small, you found it interesting, although sometimes the work could be stressful, you never regretted your choice for your career.

It was during your lunch break when you heard it. You went and got yourself a sandwich from one of the vending machines in the lab. You weren't the type to eavesdrop on someone's conversation. That just wasn't you; you were never interested in gossip from the others. You were sitting at your usual spot, eating away at the decently tasting sandwich as you doomscrolled on your phone. You were bored, nothing interesting on your timeline, that's when you heard it.

Two researchers were talking in a low voice, and you were in the back of the breakroom. And them? Just a couple of feet away from you, "Did you see the new protocols?" One of them whispered as she dug her fork into her lunch.

"Yeah. I heard it's something big. Why else would they give full access to the West Wing? Isn't that just for like, huge specimens or something? Wait, wait, didn't this place used to just be like, for regular ocean life?" The other said.

"It used to be, but then they built the other one in the south. This one's a bit outdated. But I did hear this came from the board; this could be a groundbreaking discovery."

'What the hell?' Was all you could think of in the two years you have been working here. You never heard of anything like this, but you kept cool. Still eating the mostly stale sandwich, while still trying to listen.

"But it's only going to be given access to a few of us, I heard. Those who will be at the west wing are going to have to sign an NDA and be searched before their shifts end." One whispered, still indulging in her lunch.

"The hell? Over something like a new species? It couldn't be that secretive." The other huffed while frowning, not speaking about that topic anymore.

You sat there, dumbfounded at the new information you so willingly eavesdropped on. NDAs? You hadn't heard about those going around here. Maybe this place did have its quirks. It was no secret that the deep sea research funding was from private investors, a few projects that were classified, and only a handful would work on them. Before you could even fully process what you had just heard, another researcher barged into the breakroom.

"Ya'll are not going to believe this!" Everyone in the room stopped their chatter, confused. You looked up, and everyone was being interrupted on their break, not wanting to know about work right now. "Something was caught on one of the deep-water cameras last night!"

"What?" You spoke out. While the man shrugged, "Don't know what the hell it is, but they're keeping the recording locked up, said it was something... unusual? Finally! Something that's not boring in this place!" He said before mingling with his friends, talking about it further with them.

The breakroom erupted in chatter, something new. And they were all excited to eventually see the footage and analyze something that they hadn't done dozens of times. But you had this feeling in your stomach, this didn't feel or sound right. Suddenly, you felt small; maybe your normal days weren't going to be so normal soon.

Maybe that conversation and what the other guy said stuck with you the whole day afterwards. Maybe they're just over exaggerating on what's to come for this facility. You really couldn't think of such stuff today; you were assigned to run some tests on some water examples and record your findings. Which kept your mind busy enough to not have yourself trying to overanalyze what you had heard earlier in the breakroom.

Eventually, your shift was over, humming quietly as you put everything back where it belonged in your workspace. Shutting down your computer and clocking out of the facility, hopefully, tomorrow will be better, and maybe the board will elaborate on what the plan was for the west wing. You were scrolling on your phone as you pushed the exit door open with one of your hands, the cold ocean air hitting you as you stepped out.

You liked the facility at night, and you got to admire the ocean across from it. Going down the steps, you hear something, a clank of a heavy latch. You hummed, "Wonder what that can be?" as you went down the stairs, unaware of what was coming into the facility. You were a little nosy, and you knew which side transports into the facility usually were well, transported. It was at the far end, you walked there slowly as if you had business there, but still kept some distance. Didn't want to get into too much trouble. And you wouldn't admit it, but you were curious, given the previous conversation earlier.

Now that was a truck she had never seen before, no labels from the company, not up to code for the facility, as if they were trying to hide something. You saw two people next to a big tank, which was massive, then the ones you've seen come in here. Security or something? You'd hadnt seen these two men ever. No badges on them, nor IDS hanging from a landyard. You took your distance, not far but not fully cloWhich was odd for you, and there was something even stranger with the tank. It was all blacked out, like whatever was in there wasn't supposed to be seen.

You should've walked the hell away; you had nothing to do with whatever was in that fucking tank. Which was giving you an eerie feeling, by the way, but your feet wouldn't move. The tank moves just a bit; it was shifting inside. It gave you a feeling you couldn't describe; your brain was telling you it was nothing to worry about, but your instincts were telling you it was something, and you didn't know what.

One of the men glances over to you, and you bite your lip, looking at the guy. Guess you weren't too far away not to be noticed. He was assessing you, who you were, and you forced yourself to walk in the direction of the parking lot. Scared shitless, you just walked back home, as you kept looking behind you.

It had been a couple of days since then, and everything at your job was running as smoothly as it could. The image of the tank never leaves your mind. How creepy looking it was. But you notice some oddities from time to time in the facility. You saw technicians installing more and more cameras across the building. Specifically around the West Wing, but you weren't assigned to that. That wasn't your problem to deal with, until it was.

You were just settling into your workspace for the day, going to look over previous reports from your other colleagues. You've been working on trying to analyze what was caught on the tape from a couple of days ago with a couple of others. The lighting was shit, and what the camera captured was too blurry to make a full analysis.

You hummed, knowing nothing would come from this footage, but the atmosphere felt different today. The air felt tight today, and it was starting to bug you even if you had just settled for the day. You pushed some things aside in your workspace till you find a yellow folder. "What is this?" Picking it up cautiously.

Your name in print, you just stared at it, confused, looking around. Before you open it, check what it contains.

"Report to the West Wing, immediately. Dr. Naomi will brief you on the objective."

Huh? HUH? That was only racing in your mind; you hadn't even been here for that long. You weren't as experienced in your job as the others in the lab you were located in. This had to be a mistake; you double-checked the name. Nope, it was addressed for you, that's for sure. But you thought something was wrong. No one as inexperienced as you should be working on this secretive project the board has been keeping under wraps for a couple of days now.

You still had to be monitored occasionally when using a vehicle that was sent down below for samples. You stood there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. You did have the passion for your work, but still, this had to be some kind of mistake. Nevertheless, you had to do as you were told. Packing up some of your things to move them to the West Wing, you had a feeling you'd be there for a while. No need to be swinging back and forth to grab your things to analyze whatever the project was.

Walking down the hall, you felt uneasy as you noticed the cameras in every corner. You tried not to think bout it as you stepped inside, this lab looked relatively outdated to say the least. It wasn't in use for a long time. The air felt colder here. You quickly found Dr. Naomi walking up to her, giving a simple good morning. "Morning!" She gave you a smile, "So glad to have you on our team. Now I don't want to throw all this info on you." She said, grabbing some paperwork, "West Wing is operating on a special project, hence why we needed to clean up this old thing." Smiling as she gave you the stack of papers, if you weren't already struggling to hold your things.

"Wait, wait-" You mumbled before speaking up, "Why me?"

Dr. Naomi smiled, "We reviewed your profile. Your work is very precise, given how long you've been here. We also noticed you have a passion for our work here. Hard to come by nowadays, you're a good fit here with the team."

A good fit, which had you more confused. Sure, you did have a passion for your work, but that couldn't be the only reason you were assigned here. She had noticed your pondering look, still smiling, but it looked unsettling. "You'll understand when you see it, but first I need you to sign these papers. Don't worry, it's not dangerous." A little white lie that you didn't catch on.

You placed your things down on a table near you before you read the paperwork thoroughly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but you were still cautious, and you went ahead and signed the paperwork. Giving it to her before you motioned you to follow her, you did not before grabbing your things.

She led you more into the wing, passing through military grade doors till you both made it to the main lab. Seems like they took all the measures for something to have difficulty leaving the wing. It was huge, it was everything you could imagine. More cameras in this lab than you're used to, but what really caught your attention was the huge tank taking up most of the lab. Dr. Naomi helped you settle your things at your new workspace, making small conversation. "Now that you're not carrying your things, maybe you should take a better look at the tank." She smiled, leading you towards the tank that was as tall as the ceiling.

"Now, you might want to prepare yourself for this." You hummed in acknowledgment; you had seen a couple of researchers here when you both walked in. You wouldn't say it was understaffed, considering how much the others hyped this project up. But there were fewer people here than where you're usually stationed. You slowly approached the glass; you wouldn't lie that this was exciting for you. Something new, something to study and analyze-

Shock shakes you to your very core, and your mind goes blank as you witness what is in the massive tank. What was inside that tank floating in the far end?

Humanoid, massive shoulders, long hair that drifted as if it were seaweed. Muscular, tail that seemed to be matte black. An arm was missing; it was left with heavy scarring where it seemed to be cut.

The thing moved around in the tank, as if it were trying to find a way to escape its prison. You were speechless, "That's.. that's not possible I-" Dr Naomi smiled, she had gotten used to the creature in just a couple of days. "Oh, but it is! We found it when we were doing an expedition. The thing got stuck in one of our machines."

Your thoughts were spiraling, "Did the machine-" You motioned to your arm.

Dr Naomi raised a brow, "What? No no! The machine didn't cut its arm off; we double-checked it was captured like this."

You continued to stare off at it, amazed but also feeling a prang of guilt for its capture. "We're deeming as a mermaid, well merman as it presents male features." Dr Naomi elaborated.

You hummed in response. You would definitely be informed about mermaids. You loved aquatic life since you were young, and you had an obsession with learning about them and believing the mermaid videos on YouTube were true. But even in your professional career of two years, and the YouTube videos from when you were young. Nothing could prepare you for this. How is it possible for a folktale? A merman among you just a couple of feet away.

"And what exactly is my job here? I don't think I'm qualified for this.."

"Well, we hear the little gossip, how you are so careful and delicate with any specimen here in this facility. How much time and effort you put into your findings without any staff asking for. It may be a bit of a stretch, but I think you being on the team will improve our findings on this creature." She looked at you with a grin, "And hopefully enough, after learning from it, we could find more of its kin."

You didn't like the sound of that.

It's been two weeks since then, and the whole team has had nothing to show for the creature. It was starting to dwell and dread coming here every day. It was frustrating to come in and learn nothing about the specimen. The only thing known about his appearance but he didn't let the team see him at all. The tank was big, reaching the ceiling and extending a bit about 20 feet below the floor. That's where he stayed, in the deeper part of the tank. Which pissed off everyone on the floor, no captures could be taken that weren't blurry or just plain unusable. Two weeks in, he figured out the camera under there and broke it.

Any attempts to send drones under would result in them being destroyed by him. Of course, the team would be annoyed, not wanting to spend precious equipment on the damn creature. Over the weeks, the team hadn't figured out what he ate; the best idea they could come up with was to throw any kind of fish that was available into the tank. He never went up from the deep part of the tank to eat; only when everyone had gone home did he swim up. It was obvious from the missing fish the following day.

Morning briefings were the actual worst; weeks of observation came to this. Absolutely no data that the team had gathered was usable; no actual data, no behavior logs, no vocal, no ANYTHING. You were sinking into your seat when one of them spoke. "We caught a fucking mermaid. And we have gotten nothing out of it." He seemed so frustrated as Dr Naomi spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe we should try singing under the sea." She said, shrugging, "Maybe he'll come out and sing with us."

That's how it started, to keep everyone's sanity intact, cracking jokes about the little mermaid. Granted, it started to feel like a whole crowd of Disney adults, but at least it was lighthearted, something to lighten the mood, and there was no data from Mr Grumpy. Granted, cracking jokes on a possibly dangerous creature wasn't the best move. But no one cared by then.

Eventually, even with everyone having experience in the field, they started to resort to searching around the web. Professionals know the average person would not know about the deep sea or ocean life. Pages and pages about mermaids, "I keep getting videos of mermaid makeup tutorials." One groaned as they clicked off, searching for something more specific.

"Teen life and turning into a mermaid when they touch water?" Another said as you butted in. "Pretty much that's just the plot of the h20 show.." Another spoke up, one you had talked with from time to time in lunch, "Hey, hey, wait- didn't you say you had a obsession with mermaids when you were younger?"

You froze as a couple of your colleagues turned to look at you. That was all it took.

For the next couple of days, you would clock in, sit at your desk, and one of them would slide by with a smug ass grin, "Tell me, what do mermaids eat exactly?"

"Do we need to brush his hair? Do you think he has a preference for forks? stainless steel? Silver or gold? Maybe we should throw down a mirror for him to properly groom himself."

You would groan, "I was nine!"

"But that makes you more knowledgeable about mermaids than us. Real professional here, I'm surprised you didn't scream with excitement being on this project." You gave the guy a frown, "I just watched YouTube, that's it."

Given the seriousness of the project, everyone seemed so relaxed; most of the time, they were just venting out their frustration. Or scrolling through random websites that gave information about mermaids and folktales. You had even noticed someone on a mermaid fanfic, which you thought was hilarious.

Drained and unmotivated would be an understatement for everyone at the West Wing. A whole month on the project, barely any momentum. Barely any data or analysis, everyone on the team only knew a couple of things. One, his appearance is only known since he was transferred from the small tank to the big ass one, taking up most of the space in the main lab in the west wing. Two, he only eats when there is no one in the lab, which is only in the middle of the night. Three, he's stubborn as hell, never letting anyone see him and destroying anything that the teams send down to capture his behavior and mannerisms. And four, which is not about him but what is said about him, the jokes aren't funny anymore.

Everyone was running on autopilot, trying any way to figure out the merman, even Dr Naomi was so over it she took a day off, saying she felt her brain was melting. Most wanted to give up already, just to throw it back into the ocean and forget it ever existed. It was already late into the night, and most just didn't bother to clock out on time anymore. Most would leave early; there was nothing to do at the West Wing anyway, every day was the same, and there was nothing to prove about the merman.

You stayed overtime this day, no one had questioned it. Someone had to do the boring paperwork anyways. It was better for you, not having someone complain about the damn merman every second of the day. You could file your paperwork in peace, but that damn tank in the center of it. It was creeping you out, especially this late into the night; you were trusted enough not to do any stupid shit, and there were more people in the facility, just in different wings. You were the only one in the West Wing who remained inside for today. That damn tank, ceiling to below the floor still made your chest tight. Distracting you from your report, you tried ignoring it. But knowing he was in there, even if hidden, made you curious enough.

The lab was quiet, quiet enough with the filtration system making noise. Multiple people had tried to get up close to the glass to see him, but he would always avoid them. Some even tried walking up to it by themselves, but there were always people around.

Until right now, you groaned and mumbled to yourself. Maybe something, anything. You said, as you walked up to the tank, leaving your work aside, you could always do it after your failed attempt to see anything. The tank's lights were low, a mixture of blues turning into a gradient the deeper the tank went. You leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look into the deep end of the tank.

The lower half of the tank was nothing but just shadow; it was like looking into a void of nothingness. You hummed under your breath without realizing. You pressed your palm flat on the glass; it was cold, obviously. Filled with curiosity and desperation for anything of this specimen, "Where are you?" You asked softly, frowning.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then you heard it.

It wasn't loud, nor was it clear.

A sound that you couldn't exactly make out, crawling out of the depths of the tank, low and warped. Something is trying to make noise, a song, but it seems like it didn't remember how. It sounded unnatural, stretching and collapsing in on themselves; it all sounded wrong. Vibrating through the water, all muffled, instead of being clear.

Your breath caught, if your obsession as a child taught you anything. This was no damn merman.

A song, but it wasn't melodic either.

It wasn't the best vocals you could hear, as if it was forcing itself to make noise.

To sing.

It was uneven, the pitch was off, and a voice that couldn't hold its note. And it was scraping against your nerves, not your ears. Vibrated on your ribs, even if distorted, it amazed you. You felt something you couldn't describe, but you couldn't walk away. Palm still on the glass, you hear the sound deepen.

The water shifted beneath you, slow and cautious. You felt as if you wanted to pull yourself into the water, but thankfully, the glass kept you from doing so. A shape emerged from deep below the tank. There was the full picture, the appearance you saw that only time he allowed himself to be seen, even for a tiny fraction of time in the first days of his capture.

Those shoulders, the long that drifted in the water. Pale scarred skin is seen in the low light. He had risen enough from the deep end for you to fully see him. Your lips parted slightly as he slowly swam closer. His eyes were reflective, with an ice blue tone. He was staring intently at you, unsure of what his intentions were. Mouth still open as his broken song still spilled out of his vocal cords, uneven, but at the same time, it was beautiful to you. You took a good look at him; this was probably your best bet.

The scars along his left side were what drew your attention, the blunt end that was fully healed. With a bunch of scarred tissue, but it looked like an old injury, which you could assume anyway. The song sharpened, vibration throughout the tank intensified. Something in his gaze shifted as you were too entranced to notice.

In one quick motion, he surged forward. His hand slammed into the glass exactly where your palm lay. The impact cracked through the room, not enough to set off any alarms. You stumbled back, terrified, as he had stopped vocalizing, you stopped being allured by him. Heart slamming against your ribs, as he continued to claw at the glass, aggressively and violently. You heard his scream, all distorted, furious as he couldn't grasp you.

He struck the glass again and again.

Harder with each hit. The room seemed to vibrate with each hit; he wasn't trying to escape. That's for sure. He was trying to reach you, as if he wanted to pull you in. Snatch you from the dryland and into the deep end. You stepped back in fear, hand clutching your chest where your heart is. "Holy shit!"

His scream tore into the water one last time, directed towards you as he slammed his hand against the glass again. And then he suddenly stopped, hand sliding down the glass slowly, in disappointment on his end. Nails leaving faint scratches where he tried attacking. As suddenly as he came, he suddenly left, letting himself be swallowed by the darkness once again. His hiding spot, like he had never been disturbed by a human.

The silence was deafening, walking back to the tank slowly, peering to see the deep end, the broken song stuck in your head, you felt it in your body. Coming to the cold realization that should've been obvious from the start.

This shouldn't have been pulled out of the water, and by all means, if one test goes wrong. An unlucky individual could be pulled into the water and killed by the merman. Actually, scratch that, that was no fucking merman.

Taking a deep breath in, trying to take it all in.

"A Siren, that's a Siren." You mumbled.