#multific

STANO: Log #1

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Summary:

January 30th, 1998. Eight months before everything would be revealed. Eight months ago, you slipped up—you delved too deeply into matters that did not concern you. Perhaps you never should have become interested in hacking, never should have become interested in discovering government secrets and connections they barely bothered to conceale.

STANO: Log #1

Subject: [REDACTED] Location: [REDACTED], California Date: January 30, 1998, 23:47

[SURVEILLANCE BEGINS]

Subject is seated at computer terminal, unaware of monitoring...

The room around you was dark, lit only by your computer. The PC cast rainbow colors across the small space as you sat in complete silence. Your hands covered your mouth, trembling. In front of you lay documents that could change the lives of many people. Maybe hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe even millions. But you had no idea what to do as the light settled on your skin, the only anchor keeping you from spiraling about what you had stumbled upon.

At first, hacking was just a hobby. Something to pass the time, something to make you feel like a crucial character in a piece of media. But now here you were, staring at government secrets.

It happened only moments ago.

The B.W.P. folder sat in the government directory, barely protected. You told yourself you'd just take a quick look—document the security hole, report it, get paid.

But then you saw the subfolder labeled G.V.

And you clicked.

Unlike before, where you'd report holes immediately, curiosity took over. You decided to inspect the folder more closely.

Part of you wished you hadn't. I mean, curiosity does kill the cat, doesn't it?

Your hands shook with excitement over what might be revealed as you verified your proxy was working, ensuring no trace of your presence could be documented and used against you. Your eyes glimmered in the blue light, darting from folder to folder—B.W.P. to U.O. to G.V.

G.V.—the start of your struggles.

You clicked on it frantically, shaking with adrenaline. But now you shook with fear.

Inside the folder you found various subsections, one labeled G.V., or G-Virus. Numerous photos showed mutilated rats and horribly bloody scenes. Decapitated individuals. People with half their heads missing, exposing the contents—human matter. Your heart dropped. Nausea twisted your stomach. But you couldn't stop looking.

Now you stared at videos of a scientist.

"Experiment test #428. Our last test subject was unable to properly acclimate to the G-Virus and exploded everywhere. It was a tough mess to clean up but," the scientist—completely covered, only his voice identifiable—laughed, "hey, that's how life goes. We have our ups and downs."

The scientist next to him with a clipboard did not smile, nor speak. She wore no face mask, revealing her fiery red hair and emerald green eyes. A face you'd see and never forget.

You'd remember that face. You knew you would. Something about her cold expression, the way she didn't react to the subject's screams—it was worse than the laughing scientist. At least he showed human cruelty.

She was something else entirely.

But the scene that unraveled was also one you would never forget, no matter how hard you tried to scrub that memory from your head.

The person they experimented on looked young, maybe 17 going on 18. They injected the subject while they thrashed back and forth, foaming at the mouth with fear and tears. The victim sat bound to a worn chair, the walls around them splattered with blood and what appeared to be flesh. Perhaps their own—how could they possibly experiment in a contaminated environment?

When they injected the subject, the convulsing stopped. They stopped. Nothing happened. Nothing...

...

..

.

The subject's skin split open. White flesh—wet, wrong, alive—erupted from the tears. The sound was organic, like tearing meat. The thing that used to be a person convulsed, bones cracking as they reformed. Teeth burst through gums, too many, too sharp, piercing lips and cheeks from the inside.

It turned its head toward the scientist.

It lunged.

The video stopped.

Goosebumps crawled across your skin. You'd found something you weren't supposed to. Something the government knew about yet did nothing to stop. I mean, they had a folder about this company—Umbrella—and the threats they caused, but they did nothing. Perhaps because it could benefit them?

Suddenly your computer beeped. A Windows message popped up on the bottom right of your screen, white text penetrating the dark background of the paused video.

"Proxy server isn't responding"

Your heart began to race. Your fingers scrambled to close the window before anyone monitoring this sector could spot you online. The mouse hovered over the disconnect button. Just as you clicked—

Your computer turned off.

The room, once lit by your screen, plunged into darkness. Perhaps it was paranoia, but now everything sounded loud, everything sounded wrong. Movement in the closet. A knock on the door. Or maybe just your imagination.

You held your breath, waiting for something to happen. Minutes passed. You found yourself in the clear. Your eyes never left the screen.

But just as you released a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, the screen lit up once again.

Your mouse moved by itself. It opened your notes app and began typing.

"Hello. We know where you are." It typed slowly.

Then another Windows notification popped up—your location was now being shared. You bit back a scream as you tried moving the mouse to turn off anything else that could incriminate you. Your hand flew to the power button, but no matter how hard you pressed, it wouldn't turn off. You slammed your desk in frustration, then peered at your open window. What if they were already here?

You ran to the curtains and yanked them shut. A car sat in the distance.

Could it be them?

You glanced at the desk, sat down once more, hoping nothing would come of this.

Suddenly your face glowed green a small

Beep

could be heard.

Your eyes darted to your webcam.

It was on.

Your notes app pulled up again:

"You're not supposed to be here. But you are.

We're coming."

You launched upward, yanking the power cord from the wall. You knew nothing you did now with the computer could save you. You'd messed up the second your proxy went down.

You grabbed your car keys and stuffed essentials into a small duffel bag you'd bought a while back. A flashlight. Food that wouldn't spoil. Water.

And a gun.

'No no no, this wasn't supposed to happen!' You screamed internally, shaking as you ran downstairs. Your car waited just outside your apartment in a dimly lit area. 

The cold night air entered your senses as you fumbled with your cold metal car keys.

CLICK.

They dropped. The metallic clatter obscenely loud in the quiet parking lot.

You peered to your left. Something stood by the lamp post. Too tall. Wrong proportions. Its eyes caught the light—reflective, animal. For a heartbeat, you locked eyes with it. Then it moved, disappearing into the shadows faster than anything human should.

You slammed the car door open, shoved your bag into the passenger seat, and started the engine.

You threw your phone out the window. Ran it over. Grabbed the laptop from your car—the only device they hadn't touched—and shoved it in the Faraday pouch.

The tablet and desktop were compromised. You'd left them in your apartment.

Let them find nothing but ghosts.

The laptop held everything. Photos. Messages. Your entire life before this.

Stupid to keep it. Dangerous.

You shoved it into the Faraday pouch anyway.

You shifted into drive, your breath coming in short gasps.

You'd made a terrible mistake.

And now you'd spend the rest of your life paying for it.

You disappeared into the night.

[LOG #1 CONCLUDED]

SUBJECT STATUS: Compromised. Identity confirmed. SUBJECT NAME: [REDACTED] KNOWN ASSOCIATES: Brother [REDACTED], currently under surveillance THREAT LEVEL: Maximum PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: Intelligent, resourceful, predictable emotional attachment to family RECOMMENDATION: Use brother as leverage if direct extraction fails DISPATCH: Field team en route. ETA: 38 minutes. AUTHORIZED BY: [REDACTED] Next surveillance window: 72 hours Subject's apartment has been secured. Personal effects catalogued. Brother has been flagged. Subject will not evade capture.

𐔌˚ ♯ ゛나나나 ! w̲o̲w̲, fantastic baby " ⋮ ᛝ ꒱

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majority of my dividers are from: @cafekitsune 💓

porceelain's masterlist ! ౨౿

squid game, sally face, all of us are dead, daily

dose of sunshine, danganronpa, sturniolos, jjk 🧡

this is a quick little disclaimer that all of my 18+ / mdni posts will have multiple warnings, the p!links are fortunately blocked off to minors but i don’t have any control over the under 18s who decide to view my written content, if u choose to read my 18+ content that is your own personal decision but please do not interact ! thank you

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𐔌˚ warnings: mdni (18+) content, stories

including violent language, graphic/

mature details

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Or… when they figure out how far back her programming is

Imagine crying alone in the Astronomy Tower, hoping to escape everyone but Mattheo finds you

Lately, nothing seemed to be good.

Give Her a Chance (Ch. 1: A Casual Meet Cute)

Read it on Ao3

1 | 2

Summary: Blazer meets Invisigal and hires her for a job at SDN. Hopefully Visi doesn't screw it up.

---

“Ah, Ms. Blazer!” The officer at the front desk of the Torrance City Jail stood up at attention as Blonde Blazer made her way into the building. She smiled politely as she approached the desk. “We were expecting you!”

“Um… yes? I’m aware. That’s why I’m here.” That polite smile did some heavy lifting as she tried to lighten the situation.

“Ah, right, of course! This way please.” The officer hastily stepped away from his desk and stood to the side of the hall, motioning with a wide wave of his arm for Blazer to go ahead of him. Blazer nodded courteously as she passed the nervous man and walked down the familiar hallway.

She had been to this station a fair share of times to drop off her own arrests when she used to be out in the field all the time. It had been a while since she’d come by after taking her office job at SDN a couple months ago. Now though, she was here for an entirely different reason: today’s mission was to interview a possible new recruit for SDN’s Phoenix Program.

I think I speak for many people when I say, I DISPICE thieves.

I find it absolutely disgusting that there are people out there who steal.

Someone else worked hard for the things they have and there you are, a slimy disgusting bug, stealing it.

@yautjabeast this one is for you, sweetie.

Or should I say POPPYTANJI123 ?!

The poster (because you are not the writer, hun) of Yautja Imagines off of Tumblr

I noticed recently while I was reading Wattpad that a supposed number 1 book is a freaking REUPLOAD.

How absolutely disgusting.

51 chapters of pure stolen content.

51 chapters most of them NOT EVEN CREDITED.

But it doesn't matter, since I saw NONE of the authors gave permission.

THE BOOK SHOULD BE DELETED.

YOU reuploaded other people's works and then decided to take credit for it, take likes for it and views!

HOW DARE YOU.

In one of your Wattpad posts you even ADMIT that @mintymarabell has too many and you won't copy that! your words! COPY.

"Authors note"

You have balls... some kind of an "author" you are when none posted is actually yours!

People like you are the reason many amazing authors have stopped posting or deleted their blogs!

So many amazing works LOST. Because of people LIKE YOU.

DON'T DO THIS.

And if you are a follower/reader of the above-mentioned person find the actual writers and give them the credit. NOT the thieves.

And now, to credit all the authors like you are supposed to.

@thefoldedbird

@mintymarabell

@partofmycharm

@multific

After words:

If you like a post, you are not showing your support by stealing it and republishing it! You are doing the opposite.

You are harming their page by taking views and feedback from them.

This will NEVER BE OKAY.

SUMMARY: Class 2-2′s Vice President: VP. In which the sensible Vice-President does their best to keep their little band of survivors. PAIRINGS: Han Gyeong-su x Reader TAGS/WARNINGS: reader insert, character death, swearing, canon divergence, pre-relationship, angst + more 

1.3k words  || Next Chapter >>

Harabeoji lays on the hospital bed, unaware that the world continues without him.

You're his only visitor today. The room is cold, and his heart monitor fills the silence since you won't.

You don't know what to say, where to start.

Do you tell him that he needs to wake up? That since he fell sick, your step-grandmother used his coma as an opportunity to move everyone from your family home (sans yourself) and that her son, your half-uncle and proxy, is already making deals to have the line of succession passed to him instead?

Seoul is too far from Hyosan for you to visit him, to remind him to keep fighting and to keep vigil at his bedside, but they moved his treatment here anyway. Have already brought themselves a sky-line apartment right in the centre.

If you told him that they've left you alone, that they've left you behind, would that be enough to wake him up?

On your lap, you've brought a collection of Western comic books you've been reading to practise your English and since you need to fill the quiet somehow, you pick one out to read:

The Walking Dead, it says.

If Harabeoji finds your pick distasteful, he doesn't say.

(You wish he would).

In a class-room setting, the Vice-President is meant to ensure that there is strong communication between the Class Reps and the President. When the President is absent, it is up to them to act in their stead. To lead the class through ever-changing situations with a clear head and mature outlook.

At times, you enjoy being responsible for such tasks. The position gives you a sense of purpose on days when you feel set adrift, makes you feel more present as you tend to your responsibilities and resolve minor conflicts. Those are the days you feel like an ordinary student, responsible only for the happenings of your class.

Other times however, it's a bitter reminder. Of Harabeoji who's counting on you to do good, of the dynasty you're set to inherit in his name and of the interests you've had to sacrifice in favour of activities more appealing for Universities overseas. Like being Vice-President.

Joon-Yeong insists you should have been Class President when the positions are first announced. It's unfair Nam-Ra gets the position because of her Mother's bribery when you're not only first in class but have given up more to commit to your school's night self-learning programme and your new role.

He says it with an air of indifference as he crosses his arms, but his eyes burn behind his glasses. You think it's because losing the Presidency to a friend will make the loss hurt a little less, and because it would excuse you from not hanging out with him and the others as much as you used to.

You don't point it out to him, though. Joon-Yeong has to come to his own conclusion for things to stick. Instead, you make a show of pointing your finger right at his nose as you order him–and the others watching–to call you "VP" henceforth.

It's not much, but if you show that you're not upset with the position you're given then your friends have no grounds to be angry on your behalf. You just hope that overtime, they'll come around about the Class President you do have in the meantime.

You did in the end, hadn't you?

Speaking of your Class President, Nam-Ra always complains about the music playing on your headphones whenever she slides into her seat next to you, but it doesn't stop her from leaning over your textbook to assess your work.

You respond by turning your volume all the way up so the melody of Auld Lang Syne rattles your ears, mouth curling when she nods begrudgingly at your answers.

There isn't much she'll find to begin with, but it's routine; Nam-ra grumbles about your music in the morning as she looks over your work (way better than her rhythm techno beats, mind you), and you pretend this isn't her odd way of showing her friendship.

Silently, you offer her a piece of Poki from your half-opened bag, your own show of friendship, and she accepts the treat after a long, drawn out moment. Even though she doesn't say anything, you can see her face soften in the corner of your eye, and beyond the obvious, you're glad that she's not actually mad about your song choice for today.

"Wake me up when Ms. Park comes," you say after a moment, falling into your normal position as you cross your arms over your textbook, cushioning your head as you close your eyes. Nam-ra predictably grumbles at your command, but doesn't make a move to disturb you.

And drifting off, you hope that today is another calm day.

It's not.

Hyeon-Ju's bloodied entrance is too shocking for the day to be anything but calm.

Even when she's whisked away by Ms. Park, Su-Hyeok and a few others to the infirmary, the shock gives way to unease and the feeling settles under your skin before you can do anything about it. It makes you itch to do something, anything.

Ms. Park instructs you all to resume studying but hearing what Hyeon-Ju said and seeing her state in general, more than half the class group together to brainstorm what happened between your classmate and Mr. Lee.

Nam-Ra seems to be the only one actually studying and while it looks like you are too, with all your pens laid out and your head tilted down to your book, you're actually listening in on the chatter around you. Pulling out your stationary was just a show of solidarity, if anything.

From what you gather, no one seems to say anything that corroborates your unease or the sense of foreboding that's taken root. Dae-Su's idea is perverse, Wu-Jin is quick to slap him on the back of his head, and I-Sak returns with a troubled face before the others can chime in.

At once, everyone turns their attention towards her, even Nam-Ra, but the weight of someone's stare grows heavy on the side of your face so you turn to other side of the room instead, catching Gyeong-Su's gaze just as he snaps his head back to I-Sak.

You're sure he knows you caught him staring at you because the tips of his ears are pink, and his posture is rigid as he faces the front. If you weren't feeling so agitated, your skin still itching, you'd smile at his embarrassment.

How long will he wait before he confesses?

"–What happened? Is Hyeon-Ju okay?" Wu-Jin chimes. He kneels next to I-Sak when he asks, and you begin tapping your finger on your desk when she speaks, pulled back to the matter at hand.

When you saw Hyeon-Ju last, the poor girl was delirious as she stumbled into the room, eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake. Her face was bloodied, her hair was matted and when she collapsed by Ms. Parks' feet, she could could barely move.

However, the Hyeon-Ju I-Sak left in the infirmary sounds like a completely different person.

Having to be restrained as she thrashed on the bed. Hissing. Biting.

She scratched Ms. Kim, I-Sak says.

There's a cold sweat running down the back of your neck the more you imagine it, different scenarios flitting through your head in quick succession, but when I-Sak mentions some weird shot Mr. Lee injected her with, the agitation you feel reaches a crescendo.

You stop tapping, deciding that you need to see things yourself.

Nam-Ra glances at you from the corner of her eye, and you hope the look you flash her doesn't belie your nerves.

It turns out though that the Class President must consider you more of a friend than you realised (the kind of friend that you cover for), because her mouth twists like she knows you're up to something but doesn't push.

"I'll find a mop to clean up the mess," you lie, grabbing your bag.

"Hurry back," is Nam-Ra's cool reply.

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a/n: Updated it guys!!! Lmk how you like it (or dont like...)

Chapter 1: September 29, 1998 — 11:47 PM

The small red-haired girl beside you hadn't made a sound in three hours. Honestly, you were unsure whether that was better or worse than the screaming and convulsing from before.

Growls could be heard from across the street, just a few feet away from you. Any sudden movements from you and the girl, and no doubt about it, the zombies would hear and it would be game over for the two of you. Your heart hammered against your chest, eyes shutting with the inability to entertain the idea that these abhorred creatures were once human, walking down these very streets to treat their families to a nice day out. But now, they roamed the streets, bending over, crawling, saliva dripping from the mere undead thought of gnashing their teeth against human flesh. You flinched once more, yet the girl stayed unmoving as you heard another guttural scream, someone was dying, and another zombie was shrieking with delight. Yet their hunger was insatiable, they were trying to find more people, more someone...

Someone like you two.

You glanced at the girl, a feeling of shame blooming in your chest. You started running from California because you found secrets not meant for you, insight in the devil's playpen, but knowing everything that went down gave you a cynical sense of ease. But these poor people around you, they didn't know what was coming. Unlike you, they couldn't stop in motels, sleep in their cars trying to escape the horrors. Yet maybe in a sense, it was good, since they wouldn't whip their heads around every time the wind whistled, thinking it was an operative ready to contain them forever.

You were in the same boat however, being an amateur hacker meant you didn't get all the information that was crucial for survival. You would've needed the highest possible clearance, or hacking skills rivaling those who worked for the NSA. Not just being someone who occasionally decided to roleplay as a white hat.

You came here because it was as far away as you could get from your California home. It was halfway across the country, almost 2,500 miles. Yet it seemed like fate had other, cruel plans.

Your throat tightened as you heard a howl from a turned wolf near you. You shut your eyes, unable to watch the mutant gorge their teeth on the poor woman who let her sister run away with you. Your head spun, unable to comprehend how only three hours ago she had her hand clasped with yours, panting, trying to get you to safety, only to be killed in the process.

Your tears welled up, it felt as though someone pricked your eyes with a dozen needles. Suddenly, you were snapped out of your guilt when you heard the faintest sniffles ever. Glancing at your left, you looked at the young girl who was biting her lip, drawing blood to prevent making any sounds. She barely moved, her eyes bloodshot as she clenched her teeth, anyone would think she had experienced something like this with how she was able to calm herself down. She was only six, yet tasting iron in her mouth to try and see the sun for at least another day.

But no matter how much she tried, or what prior experience she had, she was only six. She sniffled again, and again. Louder, louder. A crunch was heard nearby, you cracked your head to the source of the sound, seeing a zombie pick up on the slightest noise.

Or... was it your imagination?

With your heart hammering in your chest, you brought your hand to the girl's mouth. Firm enough to muffle any sounds, yet you were afraid your heartbeat would be picked up by the zombie. You two were cornered. There was a blazing fire in front of you two, the cracking of amber masking any slight sounds from you two. Yet the disgusting stench of burnt flesh was making you feel lightheaded. Unable to properly detect how far the zombie was from you, or if it was approaching you. The semi-truck, the source of the fire, was actively attracting zombies as though it was honey to bees. Even if you couldn't see, the stomps of the zombies made you aware.

You were forced to make a decision: run now, or die.

Peering at your bloodied knees, the memory of tasting concrete with your skin being ripped apart as though it were a flimsy bandage left a sour taste in your throat. You had let out a guttural scream, piercing the night air, almost rendering you a human kebab for zombies. Safely escaping seemed impossible with your useless knee and the, probably, insufficiently fit six-year-old girl. But you made a mental note on how the girl began rocking back and forth, the mix of burning flesh, the smell of earth, and sirens in the background, making her lose her mind, one nail bite at a time.

You took a deep breath, counting sheep, catching your fear as though they were fireflies in a bottle, you shot up. Reaching for your handy-dandy pockets, you grabbed a sock (not used thankfully) and softly tied it around the girl's mouth. Not a single part of you believed that this six-year-old could keep her composure for any longer. Even if something did happen, like a horde of zombies sneaking their way, you still didn't believe she would be able to inform you in time to save you two.

Your knee basically had its own heartbeat with how much it burned.

'Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think...' With one last sheep being counted, adrenaline filled your senses. The heartbeat in your knee slowly disappeared, or well, becoming numb in your mind as you hoisted the girl on your back. Pushing forward. Reminding you to take just another step forward, just one more step could guarantee you freedom. Your legs felt as though it had been chained with a ball, the girl now feeling like she weighed 100 tons. But you couldn't stop. Not if you wanted to live. Holding your breath, you persevered. While some abominations snarled, trying to chase you, Usain Bolt basically manifested into you with how fast you were running. Your eyes darted to the girl, her face hardened. No signs of stress, tears, or anything from before. It was as though she had just given up, no longer concerned as to what would happen to her. And with how weak you began to feel, your vision feeling spotty, you wouldn't be surprised if your breaking point was reached too.

But you kept running.

Sprinting.

Running.

Jogging.

And walking.

You thanked God when you saw the iron bars of the Raccoon Police Department entering your view. But whatever smile was slowly growing on your face was instantly vaporized as you noticed the sheer amount of zombies camping the outside, of the locked, RPD.

You wanted to scream, rip your vocal cords apart from mere frustration. But with the life of the young girl at stake, you opted out of that.

To your left was an alleyway... filled with countless infected, infected dogs, zombie cats, zombie rats... Left alleyway was scratched off as an exit point.

To your right were locked gates, a disfigured body pierced by the gate pikes. It was obvious they tried jumping over the gate to safety... but it didn't work to say the least.

Behind you was definitely not an option so you didn't even look.

So if the Never Eat Soggy Waffles (North, East, South, West) compass offered no solutions, that meant it would either be up or down.

Going up wasn't possible, unfortunately (or well fortunately) you weren't infected as to grow wings and fly into the sky to bring the two of you to safety. So that only left...

Down!

You glanced at the manhole, a deep exhale escaping your mouth. Disgusting... but what else could you do?

Slipping down into a slimy, excrement filled area sounded like fun... A lot of fun...

You shivered at the thought.

Wait! Maybe you could try going out of city limits... But, there's no guarantee that Umbrella didn't decide to camp outside like idiots, they tracked you from Cali to Florida, Wisconsin, now Raccoon? Yeah there was no doubt about it, they're probably outside the city limits, actually! It wouldn't be too surprising if they were inside, waiting for a viable extraction point considering the cursed knowledge you decided to consume.

Clutching the girl impossibly closer to you, afraid she'd somehow slip through your arms like jello, you speed walked to the manhole nearest to you. It was quite easy considering you spent a while in Raccoon City. Many suns passing over you as you fought to live another day. With a groan you lifted the manhole cover up and out, now... should you sacrifice the little girl and make her go first possibly endangering her with zombies munching and crunching at her feet. Or you could go first and risk zombies munching and crunching at her entirety if they somehow catch whiff of you two...

Yeah... munching and crunching her feet would do. If she screamed or flailed her little arms, you could just lift her up quickly!

One last glance at the blood splattered concrete walls surrounding you, you bid that city adieu. Wishing that in a normal world, you would have visited this place during your free time and have gotten to know everything when it was at its best. Maybe meet a cute cop... or a professor... but, dreams are dreams because they are unable to be reached.

Your hand reached to pat the girl on the shoulders, a sorry attempt to comfort her. She seemed to get the memo of going down first because you told her since she merely nodded and gave you a rather deadpanned look. She probably thought you were sacrificing her or something...

"Don't give me that look," you chuckled, your eyes softening anguished at the idea of a young girl having to experience this, "be careful down there, if anything happens, flail around and scream for me, okay?" You said gently, massaging her shoulder. Her youthful eyes widened ever so slightly, perhaps surprised at your tenderness. Although you didn't think it would be so out of the blue to comfort a child like that. Blood was littered all over her, ash covering her once pure skin. Her mouth was tight-lipped, her eyes returning to its normal width, harboring no hatred nor anger. There was an absence of movement because she turned around and slowly descended down the ladder, one foot at a time.

You were truly amazed she didn't slip, let alone fall, considering she was only born 6 years ago. It was as though she truly did experience this before. You could tell, she was too composed for this, even with the mini sob fest she had.

Surveying your surroundings once more, you quickly followed suit and covered the lid.

Thankfully, there were slight rays of light from the manholes' holes, that let you grab your flashlight with ease. Grabbing your flashlight, you smacked it a few times to get it to properly work. Soon, light spilled through every corner of the sewer, leaving no rat in darkness. The little girl looked at your emergency bag, curiosity as to what was in the bag.

"Wanna know what's inside?" You asked with a small, yet warm, tired smile. She nodded sheepishly, unaware you'd seen her curious nature spilling through her skin, "Well... There's food. Nonperishable of course. Then there's some water," You paused as you grabbed the water bottle from the pocket of the bag, offering it to her gently. She seemed hesitant at first, but considering your roughened up condition with various cuts and bruises earned just to protect her, she decided you weren't going to harm her through poisoned water.

You chuckled at her apprehension, where did she learn to be so suspicious of people?

"Then there's my computer. It's kinda my prized possession. My brother gifted it to me a few years back, best gift ever. Then there are some random things... medical equipment, radios, compasses... You know, survival stuff." You watched her with a smile as she fisted your clothes into her small fist, bumping into you ever so often. You wouldn't be surprised if she was super exhausted by now.

You kept a mental note to rest soon, when there was somewhat guaranteed safety near you.

She didn't say anything still, maybe your emergency bag you brought to escape California wasn't as interesting as you thought it was.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as you watched your flashlight flicker once more. You smacked it once more, as though it owed you money. Truth be told, it was second hand. You bought it after picking up odd jobs, dog-walking, pet-sitting, anything for cash to purchase the flashlight. Running away from the government didn't leave you with many opportunities to grow your stocks, ETFs, and what not to properly afford a flashlight.

But also, it was because it was the spare amount of money you had lying around after you purchased a gun with the money you made. Just a basic 9mm pistol. Called Paper. Named after the Cup noodles you ate everyday since you had no kitchen to cook in.

"Stay close to me," you whispered gently to the girl.

While she didn't speak, she let out the faintest tilt of her head. As if to say, okay.

The sewers reeked, to say the least, it was a smell of rotten flesh that had fallen into the streams of acrid water. It was cold down here, devoid of any human life. It seemed you were one of the few that thought about going down there.

You shone your light to the left and there in front of you lay a drowned zombie, its head being ripped apart by a seemingly blind rat. You covered the young girl's eyes as you tiptoed past. You both walked for what appeared to be ages, but your sense of direction was distorted since you had no map of the sewers by any means. Unfortunately, you didn't spend time with the ninja turtles, so sewers never really interested you.

You kept going left before stopping in front of a fork in the road. You glanced at the one on the left with yet another sigh, your body ached, your bones felt like they'd fall apart at any moment. You wouldn't be surprised if your head just rolled off at this point. The one on the left has nothing, just pure darkness.

Shining your light on the one on the right, it had...

..

.

Pure darkness.

...

Wow, shocker.

But, right's always the right way.

Right?

Or maybe not? Given the fact that in front of you laid a very hostile, very ugly monster. Devoid of any faces, yet having a surplus of hands feigning for flesh. It looked like five conjoined bodies.

Ew.

The monstrous mutation standing in front of the two of you, resembled some sludgy mass, with eyes in every part of its body and hands grasping for freedom while their other body parts melted to slush. You couldn't recall this being one of the monsters you had observed in the files you were hacking into before. Before you had looked at the G-Virus video, you had inspected the personnel working for Umbrella and the spies inside of Umbrella, the previous mutations...

But, this was wrong, this wasn't documented...

This was... Something Umbrella couldn't control.

The sounds echoing in the hollow sewer canals made your blood run cold, a rat decided to parade behind you two screeching for no apparent reason except to annoy you both and attract the monster to you. Could you assume the rat was Umbrella personnel ready to jump you? Well whatever the case, the rat's horrific screech made the monster lay all of its eyes on the two of you, gurgling as it ran toward you both.

Before the monster could make you into another Michelin star meal, you grabbed that little girl by the waist, hoisted her up, ignoring the screaming of your bones and ran like you were trying to be first in line for a Target deal on Black Friday. The wet sound of your boots hitting the concrete floor was overshadowed by the loud piercing roars of the sewer monster. And the slimy smell didn't help either.

Your eyes scanned for any crevice to hide in, anywhere this monster couldn't reach you two. Soon, your eyes hit the jackpot. A rusted door with a sign yelling "Personnel Only!" You grabbed the door handle, rattling it back and forth with all the slight strength you could muster. With a loud crack! The door begrudgingly opened, without a second thought you shoved the girl inside as she winced (you'd apologize later when you're not at death's door) and you made it in as well. Yet the monster did nick your arm. A large gash replaced your intact skin.

You didn't pay it much mind as you dragged your light up, inspecting the area around you now. You weren't sure what was happening anymore. Dizzy, disoriented. Annoyed.

All you knew was that your flashlight couldn't stop flickering and that the girl next to you started crying, clenching her teeth hard enough that one of her teeth broke.

You winced at the sound of her teeth cracking, you sighed, picking the girl up, grounding her in your presence. The long stretches of corridor felt neverending, but you two found an elevator, going down it and landing into an even deeper part of the sewer.

It wasn't long before you heard a scream.

"Holy shit!"

guess who it is at the end... bet you cant guess