Quoted By:
[???] <span class="mu-s">Why do you struggle? When it brings nothing but pain?</span>
[???] <span class="mu-s">It's already too late to fight back. You are going to become an anomaly at the end of your journey.</span>
[???] <span class="mu-s">You're delaying the inevitable. Why do you still fight?</span>
If you're the type to take this lying down, you wouldn't have done half of the shit you've done!
You don't hear any god damn bell! You struggle to breath through the ichor but you can still feel your body. You're still in control of yourself.
[???] <span class="mu-s">You can't escape. Not until you break out of that human shell.</span>
[???] <span class="mu-s">You have no past. No future. You're a vessel for forces far beyond you. Your mind won't be able to handle a world without the Spooks. Without a goal to endlessly chase after.</span>
[???] <span class="mu-s">So. Just. Stop. Fighting.</span>
The hand gets closer and closer. You know if it touches you, you're done for.
Its gaze pierces right through your soul.
>-2 RESTRAINT! 14/16 LEFT!
>YOU TAKE 77 ESTOERIC DAMAGE! YOU TAKE 77 ESTOERIC DAMAGE! YOU TAKE 77 ESOTERIC DAMAGE!
>Your soul is beginning to splinter...
Your arms are barely listening to you. Your brain is on fire. Every thought hurts. You reach behind your back. The hand only gets closer. Closer. Closer. It grazes your cheek.
You yank the FEDKILLER off of your back. You clumsy load two HIRCHSTONE rounds into it.
You aim at the goldy Voice.
[???] <span class="mu-s">What do you think you're doin-</span>
You pull the trigger. Two holes explode in the Voice's ethereal body. Its soft golden body twists and tears at the force of the blast.
You're. Not. Giving. Up.
The waves begin to pick up in speed. The Voice can only let out a low, amused giggle at what just happened. You managed to hurt it. You're not sure how but you did.
[???] <span class="mu-s">How interesting. Don't think this is over.</span>
Everything goes black as the waves rush past you. Your skin is being flayed off of your bones. Every atom of your very existence is ripped asunder. You are pulled to your subatomic components.
...
...
...
GASP!
You hack up an ocean's worth of ichor out of your lungs. You're back on the edge of the dock. Your body is caked in scratches and rips that are leaking a fresh coat of human stain onto your body. Your hair is caked in a layer of blood and ichor. Your legs feel like they're about to implode in on themselves.
"Holy shit, she's alive!" "Nick! Nick, look at me!" "I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT RIVER WAS TOO DANGEROUS BUT NOO! YOU HAD TO GET CLOSE TO IT!" "Interesting. I haven't seen someone survive that much Ichor exposure before." "The voice is gone. I don't hear her anymore." "I feel different. You did something. My arm, I think I have more control of it."
Everything is a blur of colors and sounds. You lay on the ground, shivering from the cold ichor staining your body.
You're. You're not hurt, despite everything that happened. Your mind is seething, sure, but the wounds on you feel...superfical. Not real. Easily healable.
You feel two burly hands dragging you back to your feet.
