#ysb

Lalna woke to the sound of his device going off on the coffee table beside him. He had fallen asleep on the couch after another of his usual drinking sessions, the empty bottles scattered on the floor. Drool dried and stained the pillow he laid on, and his hair was a tangled mess.

How long was he out this time? Was he even sober yet?

He lazily reached for his communicator from where he laid. Sleep was still looming over him, threatening Lalna to close his eyes, but he persisted with blurry vision. After a couple of attempts, he finally got it. He flipped it open, getting flashed by its bright screen, then read the notification with squinty eyes.

SURVEY_024.GF

PLEASE RESPOND

Lalna raised an eyebrow. Well, this is new. There wasn't much going on around here anymore, so who would send out a random ass survey? Maybe it was the HATs going back to their scamming bullshit? It has been a while since he heard anything from them.

He decided to open it. Why not? Worst thing to happen was either some shitty virus or getting hacked. He's dealt with a lot worse.

Right away, nothing struck him as interesting. He was mostly confused, unsure where it was going. He almost closed it and considered giving in to sleep's taunts.

Until…

Have you watched Yoglabs?

Lalna's gut twisted, and sleep ran on its heels, leaving him wide awake. If he wasn't sober before, he definitely was now.

Slowly, he sat up, reading ahead. Did he... miss something? Lalna knew he was unintentionally isolating himself, but…

Did you drink the coffee?

A bitter taste hit Lalna's tongue as memories of terrible coffee in the break room flooded in. The smell of burning followed close behind as the coffee machine broke down yet again. He secretly missed it.

Is the chip in your neck active?

Lalna instinctively scratched the back of his. Imagery of a computer chip breaking through bloodied skin popped into his mind, and nausea quickly wormed up his throat. Not because of the gruesome imagery.

No.

The mere idea of being chipped scared him more.

Was that a thing they had? Would it really be shocking if it was? Xephos held a lot of secrets, afterall, and if Lalna was a clone...

He shook his head hard. He can't think of this right now.

Were you aware that Yoglabs was nuked, there should be no signals coming in, or out?

Of course he was. Lalna was there when it happened. He barely escaped it. Yoglabs shouldn't be functioning.

○ This survey shouldn't have reached anyone's eyes.

○ Perhaps it just reached you?

○ Or maybe everyone. Who's to say!

○ You really shouldn't worry about it.

Something about that wording struck Lalna's core. As if a roach crawled on his hand, he chucked his communicator across the room and curled into the corner of the couch, watching it hit the cabin wall and land on the ground. His breathing was erratic as his heart thumped in his chest rapidly, along with his thoughts.

What was the point of this? Was someone trying to bring Yoglabs back?

What could Lalna do about that? If it didn't pertain to here, then it wasn't any of his concern. Right?

No. That'd be literally impossible.

Yoglabs is gone. Xephos is dead, and the cloning facility is gone with him. Everything was destroyed. Not a trace left behind. Lalnable made sure of that.

Unless, it wasn't his Yoglabs. Like that text group he got randomly added to. Everyone in there was from elsewhere. Different timelines and universes. Maybe this is a similar situation.

Lalna stared at the device sat on the floor across from him. He gnawed on his lower lip and fiddled with his flux-scarred hands.

Yeah, there's no way he could just sit idly after that.

Getting up, Lalna picked up his communicator (it seemed intact, despite how hard he threw it), then headed down to the basement, which became his makeshift lab overtime. Best place to start was to find the source of this survey.

A zap of electricity stung the chill of night. The energy made its way down from the heavens striking an artifact in the hands of a being sitting in front of a fire, crackling against the sounds of rustling leaves blowing in the wind. The crystal gem encased with refined metals pulsed with a soft hue in his palm. He held it up as it conjured a mirage, the following words appeared:

[SURVEY_024.GF]

[PLEASE RESPOND]

It can't be... How have they sent him a message? A Yoglabs rat escapee. A better question how did they find him? He ensured there wasn't a trail attached to him when he ran. Though the message was something he didn't expect, it was a form. To be honest, if he were to receive word from the facility, they wouldn't have said a thing especially, if it was a warning if they found him.

His empty hand rose to the holographic screen created by his communication stone, reading the terms and conditions. His hand reeled back in hesitation before he could press 'I Understand', he shouldn't. It would expose him, leading him back to being captured and locked away for more testing. The underground laboratory's precious sentient being, created from a plant of unknown origin to house ancient magicks. They've been constructing a method to hone such magical strengths for quite some time and he was the product of their curiosities.

His lip quivered as his chest tightened, holding in a breath. He found himself pressing next, proceeding through the survey. Slowly his index scrolled through the form, clicking each answer that applied to him. Why is he taking part in this? More than half of the questions didn't make sense to him. This was a trap, he knows it is. However, something innate compelled him to keep responding. Perhaps it was all the testing done to him. He felt like he had to or else he'd suffer consequences if he didn't comply.

He answered as honestly as he could but by restrictions of the survey, or possibly it was his will faltering, the choices became limited to one answer.

Are you sure?

No.

The answer contradicted his response to the previous question. He could change his answers around to make it correct though that would be lying. The situation felt forced, a trick question to keep him stumped and left pondering. A common trend the scientists used against him as they quizzed him on his intellectual abilities. He was unsatisfied with his choice but he had to move on.

Is the chip in your neck active?

A hand shot to the nape of his neck, scratching at bandages hidden under his cloak. He felt himself take a sharp breath through his nose, his chest rising. There shouldn't be a chip in there, he removed it as soon as he could when he escaped their clutches.

Have you lied to me?

No.

Are you sure?

The magical artifact cracked under the strength of his grasp, his other hand tugging away at the medical dressings around his neck. He touched little tuffs of hair and bare skin as he ran his fingers back and forth searching for the wound. Where- He furrowed his brows. It should be- No... No no no. The wound, it should be here, right? He clenched his jaw as his breathing picked up. He can't- Why can't he find it? His fingernails dug into his neck, his eyes wide as he stood up. He could feel his magic swirling through his veins causing his heart to beat even faster than it was previously.

He threw the messenger stone straight into the campfire set at his feet. The fire swelled and engulfed the new fuel source, the smooth iron finish tarnished under the heat, turning black with soot. He closed his hollowed eyes and took a deep breath, allowing his body to calm itself, though he couldn't shake away that feeling. He couldn't bring himself to finish the rest survey, not like he could anyway. He opened his eyes once again and stared into the flames, watching his gadget char. The screen remained for a short period before it frizzed and faded as the last of the magic stored in the device disappeared. He caught a glimpse of the last line of the form before it was gone for good,

You really shouldn't worry about it.