Emergency

"Is it working?"

Dr. Cowen, a man who worked for Vault, paced around the observation room.

His co-worker was calibrating the communication device beside her.

"No, not yet," Dr. Hopkins responded, sighing. "I'll try again in a few seconds."

Dr. Cowen fumbled with his beard, his face growing sourer and sourer. Through the observation windows, he could see the room just one level below: Cell A. The entire room was bland and sterile, with only a few colorful wires and heavy cords giving any life to it. A few fellow scientists were still in the room, being the only ones—besides Vault security—that were allowed there. Although they had different parts to play, they all had the same purpose… observing Subject A.

Subject A, a human male, floated within a cylindrical tank filled with liquid in the very center of the room. Bubbles erupted near the tubes that connected through his mouth and nose, leading all the way up to the ceiling of the tank.

Dr. Cowen's gaze lingered on Subject A before a voice broke through his thoughts.

"I tried it again, but they're not responding," she said. "Should we proceed with the emergency protocols?"

He rubbed his face with one hand.

"Not yet. It might just be technical issues on our end. I'm sure the Vault is handling the security breach just fine."

"But our communication devices were checked just last week. Why would we have technical issues now?"

"Ever had bad maintenance done?" He replied with a smile. "People overlook problems all the time. It happens."

She frowned. "I'm not so sure about that."

Although Dr. Cowen tried his best not to show it: he agreed. There was something just… off about this situation. Security breaches themselves were not uncommon at the Vault—hell, it happened almost every other week when guests would 'accidentally' find themselves in jail cells with their sweethearts. However, the problem with this security breach was just how long it had been going on. About an hour ago, the Vault command center—several floors above their own—contacted them and let them know about the situation. The instructions were standard protocol: they were allowed to continue working in Cell A but could not let anyone enter or leave this floor at any costs.

Dr. Cowen figured they were safe by how laid-back the command center seemed to be on the phone. The Vault looked like a three-story building on the surface, but in reality, there were levels upon levels that went far below sea level. Cell A was on level nineteen out of twenty, being one of the most heavily guarded and secured.

Over the past hour, Dr. Cowen's confidence about the situation seemed to fade. After the command center contacted them, all communication between them and every upper level ended. They couldn't contact anyone, and nobody seemed to be able to contact them either.

However, the problem wasn't that they couldn't communicate with anyone. That was to be expected, to some degree, as even the best communication devices had trouble connecting due to them being underground. Instead, the issue that plagued Dr. Cowen was just one thing—time.

Why was it taking so long?

An hour. It had been an hour, and the Vault hadn't ended the situation yet. Dr. Cowen had been working here for at least seven years, and there had never been a security breach that lasted an hour. It was impossible. The lack of communication with the higher-ups only worsened things for him and his co-worker.

"Should we let the others know?" she said, standing up from her chair. She seemed to have given up calibrating the communication system.

"No, we don't want to cause any panic," he said. "Besides, what good would telling them do? It'd be better to leave them in the dark for now, and let them continue their work in peace."

Dr. Hopkins opened her mouth, almost as if she would bring up some counter-point, but stopped herself. She let out a sigh instead.

"I know you're our lead, David, but… I think you should consider starting emergency protocols. At this point, I can't think of anything else we can do."

Emergency protocols were just that—for emergencies. It would mean completely locking down and barricading this room and every entrance on this floor. It would also mean their robotic defenses would be up. So, for instance, if a troublemaker decided to try and break down one of the doors—a ceiling-mounted machine gun located would make sure that didn't happen.

"No! No, we can't. Not yet, anyway," he responded swiftly. "Just give it another ten to fifteen minutes. I'm sure it'll be over by then. I promise."

Dr. Hopkins stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. She walked past him, leaving the observation deck and taking the stairs to Cell A.

He didn't want to admit it, but the only reason he opposed the emergency protocols was because of one little detail: they'd have to stop working. As per the protocols, all personnel was required to evacuate into the Safe Zone—a secure room located on every floor. If they stopped working now, they'd be behind schedule. Again.

Although he was an experienced, well-qualified, and trusted member of their staff, the Vault higher-ups couldn't help but threaten him with the possibility of firing him. Even though he put so much time and effort and tears and pain into this position—a late report seemed to be too much for them to tolerate.

I'm sure there's a reason this is all happening, he thought. Maybe the communication device really is having issues. Or maybe the upper levels are having issues with their devices, and that's why they haven't contacted us. Maybe there's a fire. Maybe it's just a drill. Maybe it's—

"Doctor!" A voice yelled from below.

Dr. Cowen quickly ran out the door and down the stairs that led from the observation deck to Cell A. He made his way to Dr. Hopkins, her panicked expression indicating that she was the one calling out to him.

"What is it?" Dr. Cowen said, panting.

"There's an issue with the monitoring system."

"Is it serious?"

"I'm not entirely sure. The system seems to be running fine, but the digital display turns off every other minute."

She motioned her hand towards the large panel in front of them, which displayed information like Subject A's heartbeat, blood pressure, and temperature. As soon as she pointed it out—like magic—the screen turned black. A dark-haired man standing behind her perked up; his eyes widened. He couldn't have been more than nineteen years old.

"Look! It's happening again," he said. "I told you so!"

"Ah, right. I forgot to mention, but Mr. Langton is the one who noticed it first," she said.

She then leaned in towards Dr. Cowen's ear, whispering: "He… explicitly wanted me to tell you that."

Despite how nerve-wracking this situation was, Dr. Cowen almost wanted to chuckle. Interns like Langton always wanted to find a way to stand out in the company, no matter how obnoxious they were. He couldn't fault him too much, though. Langton was an excellent intern, despite some of his naivety.

"So, it's not an issue?" Dr. Cowen said.

"I think it's something we should keep an eye on," she replied. "There's a possibility that the display might turn off permanently instead of just on and off again."

Dr. Cowen nodded. "Hm… you may be right. It'll get in the way of all our progress if that happens. Hopefully, it just ends up being a minor gli—"

The ceiling lights cut out, leaving everyone in the room in pitch-black darkness. There was only silence as the lights slowly flickered back on—just thirty seconds after they turned off.

Dr. Cowen looked up. His eyes widened.

"That's… new."

"Dr. Cowen, please," Dr. Hopkins said, "I highly suggest we proceed with the—um, next steps. We might as well."

Dr. Cowen glanced at her. She was clearly referring to the emergency protocols, but she was coy about calling it that out loud.

He let out a sigh, rubbing his face. He was quiet for a moment before he responded.

"...Fine. Proceed."

He knew how badly this would affect their current progress, but at this point—with everything that was beginning to go wrong—he wasn't even sure they'd be able to work at all.

Perhaps the Vault will be more understanding this time, he thought. If it's for an emergency like this one, they must understand.

He let out a sigh. He passively glanced up at Subject A, who continued to float within the cylindrical tank as he always did.

A pair of black eyes stared back at him. There was a needle-like focus to them that seemed almost inhuman. It held the same determination as that of a predator.

Subject A was staring at HIM.

"Start Emergency Protocols, now!" Dr. Cowen belted out, turning to face the other scientists in the room. Everyone quickly made their way to their workstations in a coordinated effort of fear.

"The monitoring system…" Dr. Hopkins rested her hands against the panel in front of her. The display, like before, was pitch black. She was out of breath as she spoke, sounding like the wind had been knocked out of her. "It should have worked… it should have alerted us… it should have—"

CRASH!

The glass exploded across the room, shattering as it hit the floor. A wave of blue liquid soon followed, splashing against the floor and everything within the tank's vicinity. Dr. Cowen attempted to block himself with his arms, but the stinging liquid hit him straight in the face and chest. He winced.

A scientist on the other side of the room began to scream. Shards of glass stuck out of their skin like porcupine needles.

In only a second, they stopped making noise altogether: their headless corpse collapsing onto the ground with one big THUD. Dr. Cowen froze in place, only moving his eyes to look ahead of him.

Subject A was standing in the center of the broken tank. Besides the skin-tight shorts he wore, he was almost entirely naked. Blue liquid dripped from his short, black curls.

He ripped the tubes connected to his mouth and nostrils in one motion. Immediately after doing so, he went on one knee—vomiting onto the ground. The tubes dangled from the ceiling of the tank, having been lodged at least a foot deep within his esophagus.

Even a presence like himself can feel discomfort, Dr. Cowen thought.

The man looked up, a deadly gaze making its way through his bangs. He stepped off the platform, walking across the glass-littered ground.

Langton screamed out: "I don't want to die!"

He turned around and bolted towards the exit. Dr. Hopkins reached a hand out towards him as he was moving away.

"Wait!"

A blurry shape flashed by. Langton's head hit the floor. His body collapsed seconds later, blood spurting out of the stump.

Dr. Hopkins held a hand over her mouth—her eyes wide and bloodshot. The rest of the people in the room began to gasp and scream soon after. Although Langton wasn't the first to die, this moment made them understand the truth: this is reality, and they're all going to die.

People began running to the exit, frantically pushing each other out of the way in a desperate bid to make it there first. And one by one, their heads were detached from their bodies. Some of them were impaled through the chest. Some had their limbs cleanly sliced off.

It was a distorted cacophony of blood, lab coats, brain matter, and shattered glass. Dr. Cowen was frozen in place— afraid that even the slightest movement would trigger his death.

Subject A was completely still as well. Dr. Cowen couldn't recognize the expression on his face, but he just assumed it was pure indifference. Subject A was watching—not because he actually cared about this or even that he enjoyed killing—but because he was waiting. He was waiting for them to die.

Dr. Cowen glanced at the observation deck on the other side of the room. He furrowed his brow, mashing his teeth together.

If only I could get up there, he thought, I'd be able to start the Emergency Protocols.

Although it was too late for them, the emergency protocols would at least be able to lock down the entire level—temporarily preventing Subject A's escape. That would give anyone above them a fighting chance.

Dr. Cowen took in a long, deep breath… then ran towards the stairs.

"David? David!" Dr. Hopkins yelled out from behind. "Stop!"

He could sense her hand reaching for his shoulder. Then...

THUD!

Warm, dark blood splattered against his back. Some of it managed to hit his cheek. His throat began to swell, and his eyes watered, but he kept all those emotions down. He couldn't… he just couldn't look back. Not now.

He continued running towards the stairs, seeing them grow closer to reach. Although it wasn't that far away, every second felt longer and longer than any second he ever experienced in his life. His fingers only touched the base of the handrail when it happened.

It stung. At first.

Then the pain began to bubble. It felt like thousands of wasps were wriggling in his left knee. It was only when he looked down, that he saw it.

His leg. The entire lower half of his leg.

It was gone.

Dr. Cowen found himself gripping the handrail for dear life. As the pain grew more and more unbearable, all of his strength disappeared and he couldn't keep himself up anymore. He finally collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the wall.

Maybe I could crawl? Dr. Cowen wondered to himself. He stared at the observation deck above him, realizing just how close he was.

He tried to move forward, but his knee pressed against the hard ground. More blood spurted out.

He let out an ungodly sound, followed only by a whimper. He pushed his hands against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Fuck… Fuck!"

Tears pricked his eyes once more.

A pair of footsteps reverberated across the room. Dr. Cowen didn't realize it until now, but the room had fallen almost entirely silent. There was no more screaming. No more running. No more panic.

In some twisted way, Dr. Cowen felt relieved.

Finally, he thought, peace.

A looming figure stood over him. Dr. Cowen was completely devoured by his shadow. He didn't have to look up to see who it was. He just knew.

The man crouched down, his eyes meeting with Dr. Cowen's.

Dr. Cowen was quick to look away. Even looking into that beast's eyes was a death sentence to him.

There was a brief moment of silence before the man finally spoke.

"Where are they?"

Dr. Cowen blinked a few times. He put all of his energy, pushed aside all his pain, just to say one word—

A pink shape flashed before his eyes. In one second, a wave of pain reverberated throughout his neck. In the next second, his head collided with the ground.

In three seconds, his consciousness would fade into something similar to a comatose state. In just those few seconds, his brain would endlessly repeat the word he was unable to say:

"What?"

The man stood up. He lingered near the corpse for just a moment, looking around as if he had missed something.

He then turned, and made his way towards the exit.