#caco3

And as quickly it arrived, it was gone. Booming voices echoed in the room, it startled him awake, the flash of the industrial lights on full blast piercing through the translucent eye coverings. Walmer hissed while bringing his hands to his face, trying to soothe the sudden blindness he experienced, underwater curses mustered under his breath. With drowsy frustration, he tried to check his wristwatch, the sleepy blurriness difficulting the calculations of the wasted time. Except, it wasn't mere seconds what flew past, if the ticking numbers didn't lie, three-thousand-six-hundred seconds were invested, sixty minutes… An entire hour, gone in a blink.

The nautilus looked around baffled, the contrast sobering his state; the lounge was the exact opposite as it had been an hour ago, loud chatter coming from a buzzling crowd, the smell of food and humanity changing the air’s density, different groups sitting in the rest of the tables. How did it get past him so easily? He felt on edge, this would have never happened on any other day. During his tactical surveillance, Walmer's ocular landed on a familiar figure, Hugo. For some reason that evaded him, the sight of his coworker in the room made his body relax.

He started to analyse Hugo's interaction from afar, it involved another acquaintance, Arthur. This focus drowned out everyone else in the room, their conversation the only thing he cared to notice; the change in decibels from time to time, cackles and whispers sprinkled between their normal volume, i usually would have bothered him to hear them chit chat out loud, but this time he couldn’t break his gaze away from the way both people moved. They were laughing, a sound Walmer learned meant they were enjoying each other's presence; they were sitting beside one another, so close their shoulders touched as they spoke, the spy couldn't process why, but it bothered him.

In their closeness, Arthur was laying his head on Hugo's shoulder, breaching contact even further while the conversation proceeded as normal, Walmer could feel his right eye twitch. The intimacy they were sharing felt outrageous, to be that near to someone, it was too much even for human standards. The subject of observation seemed prone to connecting with most of the staff with similar actions, at minimum hand gestures were given, then back taps, patting heads or, on rare instances, embraces; he knew because he tallied it mentally for a while, except, he seemed to be the outlier from such repetitive behaviour. Even if the gestures were unnecessary in the nautilus’ opinion, the general idea of being touched irking him to his very core, not being treated like the others bothered him more. 

Weaved between his analytical thoughts, waves of less logical ideas creeped up. Flashes of the warmth of Hugo’s palm on his forehead from weeks prior, the subtle weight it carried, he could sense it linger and it made him feel weird. Then, out of nowhere, as if its purpose was to feed the uncomfortable sensation of brewing comparison, Hugo laid his cheek then kissed the top of Arthur's head. Nonchalantly, neither making a big show of the act, they just proceeded as normal in their chat while Walmer’s eyes widened; it showed regularity, maybe even routine. The observer's eye twitched twice. 

“Hugo, may I speak with you?” The nautilus  jumped in,  all his sleepiness falling off at once. He didn’t know when his body decided to breach the room's distance, his height suddenly shadowing over the seated humans, but since he was already there, he would gladly break up their display. However, even if startled by his sudden presence, neither made the effort to separate. His eyes shifted to Arthur who looked back puzzled, still not bothered enough by the blond’s presence to move, the uncomfortable feeling grew, he shifted back to Hugo, he looked just as comfortable. “ In private.”

The friends looked at each other then back at him, unspoken communication shared that Walmer did not understand; the pit in his stomach grew. “Sure man, let's go outside” Hugo stretched up from the booth still grinning, then before walking away his hand rustled Arthur's jet black strands. “I'll be back soon, you better spill what's left, I'm invested now!” 

“Yeah yeah, if you come back before I forget the rest” Arthur snickered, “Or I share it with someone else.” his long fingers brushed the mess back in place, then waved both goodbye with a smirk.

“Fuck off you wouldn’t dare!” Hugo roared, showing off his middle finger before turning it into a wave. Walmer remained observant in their behavior, retracing the gestures made mentally before doing small imitations with his hand. He was still bothered, he wanted to get it. “This guy I swear,” the shorter man snickered with the fondness decades of friendship warranted, and the nautilus walked beside him silently, noticing and measuring it. “Say Wally, wanna share a smoke and ya tell me what's going on?” the brunette asked, his route was already made up, he just asked to be polite.

“Sure, it seems adequate” the blond responded, his walk purposely slower to go at the other’s pace. Once they were alone in the hallway, the uncomfortable sensations within him simmered down, but they never truly left. Maybe the nap had messed up his homeostasis.

They walked in silence for a bit, Walmer retracing in his head how close the other two were sitting prior, in comparison, they seemed oceans away from causing any friction, maybe said factor was the issue. The thoughts weighed inside his cranium, drifting the stolen body’s inertia towards Hugo's gravitational pull, an unconscious test. He hoped to close in the distance as they meandered, however when the other unconsciously sensed him approaching, he shuffled his body away in response, maintaining the space between them. The squid’s posture deflated when he realised, the pit in his stomach growing as he hurriedly recuperated his original course. A strategic retreat, he didn’t get it.

Once they reached the smoking area’s doorway, Walmer pushed out the heavy doors hurriedly, keeping them open for Hugo to follow soon after. This action received a polite nod and thanks in response, it felt like a little win. The chilly sea breeze hit them both suddenly, even with the filtration nets draped over the outside area, it wasn’t enough to cushion the cold. The spy seemed unfazed while the man shivered before zipping up his uniform, his hands soon searching inside his pockets for his vice and a bit of warmth. It wasn’t the only thing empty at the moment, the space was also desolated, understandably so since most of the workers were still enjoying their lunchbreak, that included the usual smoker troop. 

The smell of cigarettes past and saline spray permeated the area, sounds of heavy machinery humming in the background while the mesh barely disguised the oceanic views composed of purple waves reflecting the afternoon light. Both moons hung high in the sky, resting while showing only the first quarter of their celestial bodies. Hugo observed the landscape with a never fatigued wonder, taking the pack out slowly without breaking away his gaze from the view, he breathed in. “Pretty ain’t it?” the human mustered while placing his back on the cold wall adjacent to the door, Walmer followed, resting his frame beside the other, not too close, but not too far either. Trying not to overstep again, he watched the speaker then followed his sight towards the horizon.

“It most likely is,” he whispered back, adjectives as abstract as pretty normally evaded the sea creature’s understanding, but this time, looking at the shimmering waves from that point of view, he kind of got it. It was peaceful, his agitation seeming to drip away into the sea. In his reflection, a freckled slow hand shook an almost empty pack in front of him, the last two cylinders seeming to dance in wait. He took one between his cold fingers, then gazed back towards his sponsor who angled the box precisely so the leftover would fall into his mouth. The way the cigarette rested on top of Hugo’s chapped lips was noted by the observer, the sounds of the package getting crumpled with a single hand soon followed, it felt effortless.

Hugo didn’t throw it away, instead hid it in the inside of his pocket, held between many other papers and a hand avoiding the cold. He shifted in place to make sure the doors were closed, then his vision drifted towards the blond, who was still holding the stick between his knuckles, his posture curved but rigid, his gaze blatant. Maybe weeks ago, if the human had noticed Walmer’s irises stuck on his face just like they were that day, he would have felt unnerved; but he didn't, he had gotten surprisingly used to it, never attributing bigger meaning other than just a harmless habit. “Got a light?” he spoke, his lighter already held out, a hand shivering slightly as he checked the gas a couple times.

Walmer quickly copied the man’s posture, clumsily holding the stick between his teeth before shaking his head in  response. It was one of the few signals he fully grasped, a negation. Hugo nodded, his body scotching closer to the nautilus. 

“It's alright we can share,” he assured, his left hand igniting the little spark while the right protected it from the breeze. Walmer, noticing how the gap had reduced, stayed ever so still, observing unblinkingly how the man had placed his face near the fire, the stick almost touching the heat; he feared if he moved even a muscle to breathe, the human would scurry away again. 

A few seconds passed in the awkward standstill, the heat concentrating on the lighter almost burned Hugo's thumb. He stopped pressing before it could, shaking his hand to temper both. “Psst blondie, I ain't getting any taller, you gotta come down if you want to light your cig” he said with snark, Walmer nodded with surprise, this was permission and it felt good to have it, a silent affirmation and the lowering of his body were his response. With both creatures at eye level, another attempt was made.

“Attaboy”, the freckled man chuckled, getting closer once more and preparing to ignite the flame, this time making sure to also supervise the other’s stance. At that moment, even if there was space between them, the distance separating them was almost nonexistent, the tips of their vices mere centimeters away from contact, that was the closest they had ever been since the island. A similar warmth to the memory was carried inside the convective current, fed by the revived light hitting their faces. It made him think about that night. Walmer almost dropped the stick in anticipation, this was intimacy, a different emotion grew inside his stomach, this was closeness. 

They stood watching the ends turn alight, the flame growing bigger as the corners charred; Hugo was the first to inhale deeply, his cigarette’s ashes glowed a brighter orange then crept up towards him in response. Walmer just held his still, biting down trying to avoid its escape and waiting for a similar result that wouldn’t show. A string of smoke began to part their eye contact, Hugo looked away first before flicking the lighter shut.

In an instant the flame was gone and with it the necessary closeness, the experienced smoker readjusted his posture while taking a step away. Savouring the starting essence of menthol and nicotine on his tongue, he exhaled the smoke in the direction opposite to Walmer. When he looked back, he realised the squid had stayed hunched in place, as if lingering in the warmth that wasn't there anymore, his cigarette's cinder was dimming in the absence of oxygen.

 “You don't smoke much do ya?” Hugo asked while flicking his stick's white ash away. He didn’t know what made it more obvious, if it was the way Walmer's teeth gripped the cylinder for dear life or how he kept comparing both cigarettes, one almost stagnant in the char while the other was burning away quite quickly, the differences in consumption visibly frustrating him. It was amusing, even a bit cute.

“ No… I'vf nevefgh don’ thigs befo’,” the taller one said slurringly, struggling to keep cigarette from falling as he talked. He was sure he missed a step or two but he didn't know which one, and looking for guidance wasn't working. It didn’t help that a distracting emotion born from the nearness being taken away split his attention, another thing he didn’t get, the list was getting infuriatingly long.  Hugo side-eyed him amused before taking another long drag, each puff tasting more like minty nicotine and the guilt of bad habits creeping back, he parted the stick from his lips and blew away the smoke.

“Hum… that’s good, don't start now.” Hugo scolded him playfully, a light curtain of remaining fog escaping his mouth as he spoke. His next actions happened slowly, but still caught Walmer off guard.

When he blinked after his cyan eyes almost dried up from all the staring, vertically this time, purposely like humans do, out of nowhere a calloused hand was approaching his face. The blond held his breath in and his pupils split slightly, was it finally happening? The island came back to his mind and with it, a phantom pressure on his forehead, something was going to happen, and he could feel his fake lungs suck in air in anticipation. 

“It's bad for ya” the subject of the spy’s thoughts spoke, snatching the dying cigarette away at the last word, the hastiness of his movements making the man’s knuckles accidentally brush the other’s lower lip. Walmer had felt the friction, the breath he was holding dripping out from his agape mouth, the slightest cloud of smoke escaping from the gap dividing his front teeth. Hugo noticed, the feeling of golden stubble tickling his skin lingering more than it should have. They both felt it and the lack of words acknowledged it, only the sound of the stolen vice being put out against the wall spoke up.

“Sorry about that” Hugo said while clearing his throat, a tinge of panic molding his facial wrinkles. Unconsciously he saved the slightly used cylinder inside his pocket and looked away, the way Walmer froze up was making his insides churn. Now a different kind of guilt built up inside his lungs, he took another drag to drown it out. “W…what did you want to talk about again?” The man stepped further away while changing the subject, trying to compensate for his prior invasion of personal space.

“Are you usually this prone to physical contact with everyone Hugo?” Walmer blurted out; he had many thoughts running through his system, the first was how the smoke tasted awful, the next was the disappointment of the cigarette being taken away despite it, another wondered if the burning feeling on his cheeks was due to the cylinder's spark, and so on. However, this question escaped first, direct and monotone, his freezing eyes watching in real time as Hugo’s relaxed pose changed into a more closed off position. Something was happening, and the whiplash of closeness was driving him mad, he needed to get it now.

“What's that supposed to mean?” the shorter man raised an eyebrow at the question, trying to process the multiple directions those words could be taken. He disliked most of them. “If ya asked me here just to be snide, I'm going back to the lounge.” He sucked in another drag, not taking the time to savour anything, his leg began to bounce up and down, waiting for what Curls was bringing next.

“Oh no stay, I'll explain!” The spy cleared his throat, not because he needed it, but as an acquired habit from Walter's mannerisms. “Are is the verb to be in second person, the action of  existing, you is the su-” as Walmer spoke without skipping a beat, reciting the grammatical knowledge taught to him in the abyssal cell, Hugo jumped to cut his speech short. 

“ Ha. Ha. Okay yeah I see yer pulling my leg, this chat is over ” the man said unamused, the half gone cigarette paying for it by being extinguished against the metal wall. The force of uneasiness killed it quickly, and a few extra taps for good measure at the rhythm of the man’s nervousness announced its retirement, into the same pocket the barely used one laid, ready to proceed their dance of addiction. He was in a good mood today, and his coworker was starting to sour it. As rude as it felt, he started to walk back to the rest area, an effort to put out the conversation just as efficiently, the taste of guilt lingered inside his throat, the feeling of Walmer’s skin still haunted his knuckles.

If Walmer was particularly good at something, it was at being stubborn, he moved with him, following his steps closely. Something happened, even if the human avoided his question, he didn’t want to give up, they were so close, he was so close to getting it. “I think there is a mistake, I am not grabbing your lower limb” Walmer excused with his same register, still a tinge of frustration seeding in the fact he couldn’t get his point across. “I am trying to understand your behaviour.”

Hugo grimaced, those words struck a familiar wound, he didn’t know if it was an accusation, a reprimand or something else. He didn’t want to find out either, swinging the door open for his escape. He wanted out of the conversation, except for some reason, his hand still held the entrance long enough for his coworker to exit. It tasted like guilt inside his mouth, “I’m sorry about earlier, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to.”

“Your approach towards me was unintentional?” Walmer spoke back, if Hugo didn’t know any better, he would have thought that his follower sounded almost wounded. “Is your contact with the others also accidental? He was missing something and it felt unfair, the constant change of conditions between them confused him. Hugo didn’t apologize when he kissed Arthur’s head, he didn’t recoil when Karina needed a hug, he didn’t avoid the entire Roughneck crew's fistbumps after a good shift; why was he treated so differently in comparison? He didn’t get it.

“What the- Man it was a mistake, I already apologized for touching yer lip Walmer, I don’t get where the rest is coming from” Hugo was getting agitated, the walk back felt disproportionally longer. With both hands inside his pockets, he tried to count the segments of his fingers with his thumbs, an attempt to divert his mental energy into anything but what was happening. It didn’t help, it just made the feeling of the other’s skin on his skin more blatant.

“I want to understand why you are able to share physical contact with everyone intentionally but me.” Walmer was getting just as mad, the human’s visible agitation rubbing off on him. It made his remembrance of the care he received ever so distant, the connection he missed running away after giving volatile mixed signals. "Does this mean your actions at the island were also accidental?” He held onto that night, he hoped to hear, sense or see any type of negation, it had to mean something that the man wasn’t scared to be near him then. He knew humans were supposed to apologize if they made a mistake, Hugo never apologized for holding him then, what happened wasn't a mistake. 

“Yer hung up about that? Look I respect ya, I only treated ya because it was an emergency, I'm sorry I made ya uncomfortable, it was never my intention.” No, no, no, why was he apologizing, Walmer wanted anything but that, he felt dread build up within his gills.  “But that has nothing to do with my other relationships… How I act with my friends is none of your business.” Hugo established sternly. He had lived plenty to know that he shouldn’t feel shame for the way he bonded, his friends appreciated it, and if others didn't, he would never overstep and force closeness. He was respectful towards others, he expected at least the same back. “I won’t apologise for being comfortable with my friends.” 

“Does that mean you are uncomfortable with me?” He continued to look at the tiny man for a response, disheartened by how fast everything was falling apart. Supposedly they already were within a friendship contract, so why wasn't Hugo acting the same way with him? “Was I under a wrongful impression…Are we perhaps not friends anymore?” Walmer asked with barely alive hope for clarification.

The question broke Hugo from the ruminating trance, he realised they were not seeing eye to eye, he made a bigger effort to calm down and communicate properly. “Buddy, you're not hearing me. I wouldn’t say uncomfortable nor that we aren't friends…” he chuckled nervously, a bit baffled with the situation. “But I'm just giving you space… I thought that was what you wanted?” his mustache twitched as he pondered, it was true they had gotten along better the weeks since their castaway misadventure, but he believed the restraint in contact between them had been sufficiently cared for. Now this, such whiplash muddled any read on the situation, and like always, his solution was to fasten his pace.

A subtle change in how the spy's facial muscles rested clued in his relief, it was imperceptible, but the grey haired man almost caught it. “I do not require space apart, I want to be comfortable with you.” The feeling of Hugo's ephemeral caress still warmed up his face. “Am I required to engage in some sort of protocol for us to be comfortable?” 

“I don't think that's how it works man, you… I… we-well…” Hugo dragged on, unable to form a response to whatever the storm of questions tried to imply. If his Walmerese knowledge was correct, the blond was asking for… closeness? Why, it was pretty clear from all the time working together that he despised it. Something was going on, and it missed him completely. He saw the doorway to the lounge brighten their pathway, maybe that was his salvation, an escape to whatever was happening at that moment. His steps grew quicker, what could he even respond to that? “Why are you even asking me this?” 

“I want to know when we will be comfortable enough for you to touch me again” Their simultaneous steps into the room punctuated the sentence. The booming room became silent as surprise spread to the entire place, Hugo almost choked, Walmer just gazed as always, as if he hadn't dropped the most out of pocket string of words in the tank of gossip pirañas that were their teams.

“W-hat… the fuck are you talking about?!” The freckled man almost hollered, they didn't pay him enough for this type of situation; Hugo's eyes searched for Arthur in panic, only to see the man eating up whatever was going on, the bastard was enjoying it. He was alone with this then.

“Hugo, I said I want you to touch me like you did on the island.” Walmer repeated, all the possible connotations those words had, flew past him and landed on their coworkers. Everyone was looking at them, and only one of the people standing was feeling embarrassed about it, how could it possibly get worse? “I desire to experience once more the heat of your hand on my person.”

That was a way to make it worse, and a few whistles could be heard from the crowd because of it, “Get a room you two!” The lounge erupted in laughter, and Walmer looked around confused, there was nothing funny in his communication to warrant such a reaction. He wasn’t going to get it.

Hugo looked mortified, “Y'all zip it! It’s not like that, he doesn’t mean it that way!” the man shouted, as rare as it was, the crews took a bit to quiet down, the people making mocking kissing noises taking a bit longer. “Walmer stop it, yer making it weird. Please clarify what ya meant before this gets blown out of proportion”  he whispered pleadingly, he knew Walmer’s speech was easy to misinterpret, but this one was the worst misunderstanding by far. Completely sure that by the end of the shift if things weren't set straight, news of them having explored more than the tropical forest would be making the rounds.

“We already share a room, there is nothing weird or worthy of an explosion" Walmer said aloud, his voice booming  with an unwarranted security. He looked back at Hugo waiting for approval, raising a thumb just as he was taught, looking for affirmation. Everyone burst into laughter again, small whispers repeating his words bouncing between the booths, Hugo groaned and slapped his face, needless to say he didn’t receive a thumbs up back. He wasn’t getting anything.

“Well that was that” The smaller man said defeated, a flush of heat in his face growing with his embarrassment. “Everyone go back to eating and minding y’alls business!” Hugo ordered, not knowing where to go to escape the situation, he just took the HR nightmare’s shoulder then dragged him away to the booth they were before, not caring for the contact breached at the moment. Walmer cared and he relished silently in the pressure the aged hand left, the neoprene absorbing most of the warmth before his skin felt it, but still, it was a start. He finally got it.

“Soo~ since when have y'all been a thing?” Arthur sang cheerily as they arrived at the booth, a teasing smirk exaggerating his wrinkles.

The sea inhabitant tilted their head in response, observing silently their reluctant advisor before a low vibration echoed from within the still gilled neck. Then they got closer, long gangly hand were reaching towards the man who started backing away on instinct. When the contact was breached, the palm's texture felt coarse and weighted, the strength it held anchored unnaturally hard into the arm, threatening to break it off with ease. Walter tried to free himself of the menacing hold, alarm rising inside him as the creature's limb started unraveling, the fake skin split into wrangling tendrils, approaching, holding with the intention of taking regardless of the resistance of the human. Walter wanted to go home, his heart started to beat uncoordinated, and the beast could hear it.

- No no wait wait, I'm cooperating, I'm useful - The human pleaded while images of his family tried to calm him down, still the grasp felt just as disgusting as the first time he experienced it. The cold humidity of the bifid ends scraping his skin made him feel ill, it itched as the blooms of his resistance were making the toothed ends dig deeper. He wanted to go home, but the creature just looked on coldly as more guttural vibrations resonated, face expressionless as the observation lingered. The tugging became stronger while the copy engulfed everything up to the  trembling elbow. - Stop it, get off me, LET ME GO PLEASE - Walter's screams cared not for the integrity of the vocal cords forming them, they muffled the compliance as survival was taking over. He wanted to live, he wanted to go back home, but the pain took him back to reality and they were taking over, piercing blue irises witnessing the struggle without blinking, the beast unfeeling, their hold encroaching closer and closer to the human's shoulder. He was scared, his heart beating faster, all the blood rushing to his extremities in a fight or flight alert. He couldn’t fly.

Walter's free hand tried to drag away the slithering tendrils, his efforts panicked and sloppy, he was not a soldier, he was not trained to fight off weird lifeforms trying to rip his flesh off and wear it on themselves. He was sent there to watch after the dog and take measurements to study the planet’s viability. He wasn’t a person of interest worthy of interrogative torture, he just knew what he was taught. His only fighting skills surfaced when his body moved on his own, kicking with a force born out of fear, pulling away the tentacles his nails dug into fueled by self-preservation, his fight was neither effective or logical, it was clouded by adrenaline, it was primal. He was not a soldier.

- IT HURTS - the blond man heckled agonizingly before biting down on the crawling mass scraping his skin, since his pleas fell on deaf ears, his body still fought for freedom. In a terrified attempt to escape, Walter sunk harder on the mass attacking him, thoughts of home molded by his teeth, thoughts of his wife’s embrace creeping in as he lacerated a few of the tendrils away, echoes of his children's laughter mixing in with indigo liquid that poured out of wounds created with struggle. He wanted to get back home, however, the monster did not react to the maiming, they just looked on as the human kept the useless fighting and the percussion in their chest increased.

The broken threads did not stop moving once ripped away, in fact, as the metallic taste invaded Walter's mouth, the fragments’ radulas began to scrape the roof of his palate, it was nauseating. Leaving burning sensations with their path, they took a sample of the flesh, attacking the nerves, they scratched the teeth for the bone, tasting the blood from swollen gums and testing the muscles of a horrified mandible. Everything probed for examination, everything taken under the watchful gaze of the unblinking monster. 

Walter heaved as the tubes travelled down his neck, drowning gurgles emanated despite his free hand trying to pull them out, stomach acid and reflux fighting against the intrusion. They slid down his throat, his larynx and pharynx, all the way into his lungs, taking away his air and voice with painful disregard. Everything was being ripped away, all aspects of the body he had built himself for years stolen, uncaring and violent. He was choking, the need to hurl out all the contents in his stomach heightening by the second, but he couldn't since a cold net of invading tendrils weaved itself blocking his airways. He was scared out of his mind, a frightened wetness warming the lower half his uniform as he tried desperately to pull them out, twitching and grovelling against the hold. He felt like the scared child he stopped being twenty-five years ago, crying out for help that would never come.

Fear and ache were taking hold within him, to fight only for the threads to go even deeper, the taste of bile and bloodied spit numbing his mouth. His brain screamed in alert that despite his compliance, he would probably not get back home. It was painful, even as he kept fighting the consumption, the impostor could be felt creeping everywhere inside. His organs were getting scraped from within, radula greedily taking samples of the tissue, it made Walter's senses aware of his own insides, all the guts and nerves palpitating in frantic chaos; when it breached his circulatory system, the irrigation cut by invading tendrils disrupting the bloodflow, throbbing pain began to grow as swelling made the invaded veins on his arms and legs feel warmer, a painful static taking over; Walter no longer  wished to go back home, he just wanted his neuronlink to flash red three times and be gone, quick, no more pain, exonerating. 

His skin was getting separated from the fat as the monster ravished the adipose tissue, everything itching as they crawled, it was maddening; the inside of his drowning lungs were getting bloated by the still air, unable to expand or retract as the tentacles compacted his thorax, feeling caged and desperate, only his heart was still moving, pumping with all his might, threatening to break out of his chest in terrified anguish. He wondered why it hadn't been activated yet, was his struggle not enough to make him worthy of mercy? 

His heart's freedom did not last long either, tentacles began to wrap around his aorta, slowly encapsulating the organ as it beat faster. It felt claustrophobic, the tendrils squeezing while the beat was fighting to go on, holding on so painfully that between the overwhelming nausea and pain, Walter felt himself extinguish. Had he been braver, had he been a soldier, had he been a fighter, maybe he would have persisted a bit longer; But he was none of that, he was just a worker, a lover, a father and a human. His struggle started to fizzle out, his kicking weakening as his muscles ached in tiredness, he was losing consciousness, or was he dying? The human couldn't tell, but he wished it was the latter.

The creature tilted his face again, a low hum echoing inside its hollow body while it observed the human's movements cease slowly. One click, two clicks, three clicks. His legs stopped kicking. One click, two clicks, three clicks. His arm went limp. One click, two clicks, three clicks. The chest stopped its beat. One… Two… Three…

The only things moving were the threads, which suddenly stopped their pulsations. Shifting in unison, they started retreating back into the copy, dropping carelessly the limp body on the floor as the broken pieces crawled out, coordinated and swift from inside; Every tendril took the information needed for further mutations, but the beast couldn't hear the percussion held inside the ribs anymore, vacant grey eyes looking back this time as the tentacles folded and weaved into an arm. 

It looked almost identical to the original, save  for the inked markings that covered the human's extremities. Blue oculars compared the length of the newly formed arm with the faulty one, stretching both and leering while fixing the differences. The muscle fibers separated and shrunk, fatty tissue redistributing over it while getting covered by veins, nerves and epithelium, everything layered just like the real thing. Testing the new appendages capabilities, they moved the fingers uncoordinated, observing as tendons pulled down the wrist when closing the digits in. Then it discovered the new range of motion on the wrists, nothing they had witnessed before, they moved it in circles, a freedom their previous anatomy never had. One hand passed over as it felt the movement, falsified goosebumps making the stolen body hair rise.

- Grglugh…hrg - the sounds of metallic and meaty breaths rebounded from the floor.

The ripped mass  that smothered the human's life creeped closer to the imposter, it was pulsating and twisted, the tendrils having fused into each other in the shape of collagen rings and warped vocal cords. The growing tissue twitched, weak gusts of moist gargles exuded with every movement, ligaments and muscles forming around shaping the muffled sounds into whispers. 

- Hrg..urmgl…grssh - slurred gargles began to take shape.

The beast's oculars fixated on it, punctual clicks resonating as it approached, a clumsy hand dropped over the grovelling structure, hard-hazardly grasping it with such great strength that it almost splattered into nothing, the stolen throat was reforming the broken parts with ease, it could be heard vibrating with the imitation.

- …Hurg…grzht - something more cohesive attempted to resound.

The gilled neck started to split open as the vibrations continued, exposing its own innards as broken and ghastly sounds reverberated in the cell. While the copy engulfed the cartilage, damned whispers escaped, or at least tried.

- …Hu…rtgrl… - it was getting closer.

Walter's corpse started to lose warmth, all the musculature in his body relaxing at last. The beast started to hear how the remnants of life left the human, with the absence of tension in the muscles, fluids rushed out, the involuntary release of saliva and other fluids crawling out of his cavities. 

- …Hur..tgrz… - it could be heard from cords hugged by  newly formed tissue, wet and palpitating.

The imposter crawled towards the body, observing the stillness without expression. They poked the side with the stolen forehead, the force pushing the corpse to lay down completely on his back, no response, still silent. 

- …Hur.zgls… - It was getting closer.

They placed one hand over the quiet torso, just over where the beat used to live. In the stillness the beast hummed, vibrating at a register completely different from before, the ocular's pupil widened with the sounds  and the pigments of the irises began to brighten. As a buzzing increased, without warning, they released from the palm an electrical charge. Walter's body jolted, but the life did not come back to his eyes.

- …Hurgths… - the soldier's cords dripped, it was taking shape.

The smell of burning skin permeated the cell's air, a branched mark made testimony of the monster's action. They looked on, then placed both hands on the torso, in comparison to the real skin, they looked sickly pale and without any of the written history Walter had lovingly put on his flesh. The first error the beast corrected quickly before preparing another shock, the second appeared harder to replicate.

- …Hurths - there was a struggle, but still it was getting dangerously close.

This time, the bigger charge sunk deep into Walter's flesh, it reached the fibers of his cardiac muscle with nimble sparks coursing through his entire body. At first there was stillness, then from the silence, a timid sound could be heard between deflated lungs. It beat once, then twice then thrice; the sunken chest began to rise, life breathed within once more, the smell of sizzling skin accompanying the revival.

- Hurts - it did it.

The human gasped, the pain in his chest as intense as a thousand kicks to the ribs. Walter was dazed and nauseous, the first thing his body did after returning to its life duties was to recoil and spout out all the contents in his stomach. The beast observed it still unmoved, the skin on their palms just as damaged as Walter's chest, however, while he continued throwing up, they regenerated the damaged tissue with ease, a perk of being the stronger lifeform.

- Igts…Hurts - the creature regurgitated.

Walter's vision was blurry, his eyes dry from having been open for too long, salted tears trying to remedy said problem as his wheezing continued. He was too busy noticing all that made being alive disgusting to look back at the copy, to notice the stolen syllable; in the brief time Walter had been gone, his mind covered with memories the walls of his cranium, but only one thought remained both in life and death.

- IT HURTS - The recording of his past screams played back at him, uncannily engraved in neatly visceral quality. It was his voice, his words, his fear but it was not him who said them, a slightly grainy texture coating the words, it was not him. While he stopped grovelling on the floor the taste of acid reflux and half eaten breakfast was still on his mouth, the smell of death and decomposition still permeating his pores, it was then when his eyes trembled towards the imitation. He was scared to look back, but he couldn't help it, he needed to know.

- IT HURTS… - The monster remained still, observing. -  IT… hurts… - Still, mocking. - HURTS… It… - Still, waiting. - It… - They were playing with the sounds of distress once hollered in agony, with an unnerving coldness, an stillness improper for the situation. - HuRt - It was just testing, it was just learning. - …hUrTs - Getting accustomed to the feel of a throat that wasn't theirs, forming words from lips moving out of sync and sharpened pearly canines protruding out unseemingly, cutting every letter carelessly.

The blond felt a tremor within him, nerve endings firing up at the scene, they made the hairs on his skin raise. Maybe it had been better not to look back, maybe it would have been better to not have been brought back from the nothingness after all. Being alive again meant hope, but also fear, moreover his weakened heart, which still felt too inflated against the marked ribs, rose up once more in adrenaline and terror, creating increasing thumps that drowned out the copied screams from his ears.

It was certainly better, or at least his body thought so, to just go back to non consciousness. In a last resort for protection, everything turned to black again, Walter fainted, and part of him was thankful. He hoped that he was living a horrible nightmare to wake up from, wishing so very hard to the stars and everything above to just open his eyes again and see the beautiful locks of his beloved once more, to get up from their warmed bed and go visit his children once more, for everything to just stop aching. He bargained inside his drowsy mind that he would never take his life for granted again, that he would do better from then on, just in exchange for the horrors to be over.

If Walter had remained conscious a bit longer, he would have felt naive for throwing his faith up into the unknown waters above. For all he knew his wishes could be taken by the currents to the surface, or crumpled by the pressure of the Bathial slopes and sunken. Either way, he had no way of knowing, and maybe it was better if he didn't.

He was never a soldier after all.