I hear another one of our own fellows has fallen, some couple hundreds of miles west outside in the sands. Went insane evidently.
Ahā¦ poor fellowā¦ Do we have a name?
Loam.
ā¦ That big man? I thought heād be of better mindā¦ then again his faith in our Citadel was unmatched by any of us.
Rest in piece man. šššļøšļøšļø
ā¦ Donāt do that, Igor. Marvin and 5459 are influencing you too much.
Whatās the harm there in a little prayer?
We can bring back people. Igor.
ā¦ Oop- duh. Uhhā¦ well you said he died up in the sands, right? Thatās outside, and way out of convenient range. Not like the other guys we picked up.
The cogworks tend to leave for outside the worksā¦ Itād be an ambitious gambit, to have one ferry him back. But it could be done, perhaps? For our special āproper burialā among his fellows.
Sounds like an idea. Though, we need to make sure this thing works as intended first of all, otherwise weāve just been hoarding bodies for no reason. You said we start experiments soon?
Yes. I believe Logast should be a good first patientā¦
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ā¦ Yesā¦ Yesā¦ Soon we shanāt worry about filth in its workings. It is practically complete.
Itās a regal piece of junk to be sure, with what we had to use for it. But everything necessary to the function is here. The ease of operation and loading/unloading could need work thoughā¦
We have just put it together, young Igor. We will figure solutions in time as we test and use it. All it needs now before we can begin the true fruit of our labor is some dusting.
High time to get started then, huh? How long have we been working on this big secret project of yours? I aināt ever kept track, Arliss.
Ever since that foul roach-beast struck the Ventricas. In the days since, there has been an invasion from the lobsters of the west, and the traitor silkborne came out of death and slaughtered our coworkers. With the Architect now beginning an inspection of the worksā¦
You have no idea how glad I am we can begin, are you? So much death down here, and to what end? Damnation? What we have here is bigger than either of us, Igor. It will undo what our mortal limits and luck set for us.
Our faith goes to this great machine of ours, of which only we can operateā¦ No one will know of what greatness we try.
Bills QB Josh Allen day-to-day with right foot injury
Alaina GetzenbergDec 22, 2025, 06:27 PM ET
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Alaina Getzenberg covers the Buffalo Bills for ESPN. She joined ESPN in 2021. Alaina was previously a beat reporter for the Charlotte Observer and has also worked for CBS Sports and the Dallas Morning News. She is a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley.
ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. ā Buffalo Bills quarterback Josh Allen is day-to-day with theā¦
Never so much, so condensed in a single spaceā¦ Itās so muchā¦ Itās painted red and black in there.
I swear I recognize some of the dead or dying. Pat, Michealā¦ fucking Harvey?! I think thereās still some poor sods in there fightingā¦ Theyāre screaming and shouting, at some white thing dashing back and forth in there.
Each of the bodies I looked at seemed to have died differently. Fosha had a perfect hole in her face, Pat was covered in cutsā¦ I couldnāt even tell what happened to the poor chaps reduced to bloody, crushed chitin. What ungodly beast is in there?!
ā¦ I donāt call myself spiritual but I had a motherffFUCKING HUNCHā¦ some bullshit was gonna go down one of these daysā¦ Is this it? My ultimate test of judgement?
ā¦ Sod it, Jack. Iāve beaten bigger things before with this olā twistpinā¦ my boys need help! What am I doing cowering back here?!
Citadel be with meā¦ Thisāll be my absolution.
ā¦
Wretched BEASTS!
(Jack drops down, slamming his twistpin into the ground in an overhead swoop. He stands up to leer at his surroundings.)
Kill my fellows, kill our handiworkā¦ Iāll kill you my damn self! SHOW YOURSELVES!!
ā¦
(There is no answer.)
ā¦
Itāsā¦ i-itāsā¦ quiet?
(Jack looks aroundā¦ Bodies, all in different ways of death. The floor he stands on is wet with hemolymphā¦ He looks up and sees the evidently-damaged Ventrica. An Underloft is perched on some scaffolding, peering over, terrified. He calls out.)
M-Murray?! What in our godās name is going on in here?
ā¦
R-RUN!!!
(Murray yells at him as dashing movement and sound comes from his side. A sharp pain is jammed into the joint between his head and his body, before a weight is thrown against it, kicking off him as the pointed pin recedes.)
(Jack screams as heās knocked to the ground, twistpin rattling to a stop next to him. He crawls back up, feels his bleeding neck and glares at the ghostly, masked figure standing far in front of him.)
(He stretches his joints.)
Howling wraithā¦?! Ohā¦ Go back to your tomb, specter!
RETURN TO MEMORY!
ā¦
(The bloodied spectre proved evasiveā¦ Even with Murray and some random Underscrub gaining the courage to fight with him, soon enough they were struck down too, joining the growing collection of bodies on the floor.)
ā¦ FUCK-ā¦ Please, CEASE!
(Jack yelled, sweeping his twistpin in a large horizontal arcā¦ No matter how fast he was, this ghost was too quick, too good. As if he was fighting something indeed incorporeal. It felt as if he was only hitting it when it wanted him to hit it, judging by the sound not of pin striking flesh but of metallic clanking, of pin meeting pin.)
(He heaved, digging his twistpin into the ground as he caught his breath after another blowā¦ He looked up to see the ghost above him, bearing down as light and fog built up around him. He saw his demise, and retreated into his studded shell.)
(Nothing couldāve prepared him for the holy pain that came down onto his back. The feeling of even his hearty shell splintering from force and weight as a longpin pierced deep through his armor. He screams.)
(When the weight crushes him no longer, he brings himself to standā¦ His form has been thoroughly broken and beaten, and looks to his Twistpin still dug into the floor.)
ā¦ Pleaseā¦ comeā¦ onā¦!
(He limps towards it, to wield it once more in a desperate last stand, but feels a powerful kick hit his sideā¦ He stumbles backward, catching himself in the open Ventrica chamber.)
(He gaspedā¦ somehow he fit? His form hurt like no pain he had ever feltā¦ The Ventrica door closed in front of him, safely sealing him inside.)
(His voice hurts to speak, to hear. He can only whimper, weaklyā¦)
Iā¦ ohā¦ no moreā¦ Iā¦ I failedā¦ I fuckedā¦ upā¦ huffā¦
(The ghost stares at him through the transparent door. It steps back, and withdraws its longpinā¦ Had he lived this encounter?)
Noā¦ no I canātā¦ I couldnātā¦ T-thisā¦ uuuuggghhhā¦ my shellā¦!
(He shifted his weight, there really wasnāt that much room in here with his fractured bulk.)
ā¦
Noā¦ Nononono, wait, WAIT, STOP.
(The Ventrica chamber shook. He remembered what state it was in when he saw it earlier.)
S-shut it off! Itās busted! I-ā¦ fuckfuckfuck-
(He scrambled to find the controls, but between his size and his condition he could do nothing but change which wall he leaned against. Steam started building around the chamber as the floor heated up.)
Stop- STOP. I donāt want to- use it-right now! LET ME OUT.
S-ā¦ stop-!
(The chamber rocketed upwardsā¦ and was nearly instantly met with part of the tube it was traveling on being dislocated and off-angle. It snagged, and with its momentum, the chamber was crushed and mangled mid-air.)
(Steam frantically billowed everywhere, before the chamber loosened, creaked, and screeched back to earth with a mighty crash as it landed, completing the symphony of catastrophic failure.)
ā¦
(Blood trickled out from the wreckageā¦ anything organic within was very, very dead.)
(The ghost saw the sight of steaming metal, powdered chitin and torn-up organs, and cackled triumphantly.)
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