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The Last Summoning

The Last Summoning

作家:Avery Aislyn

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簡介
They wake up to walls painted red, staff members mauled beyond repair, and an inscribed message scrawled across the last victims. Finally free to escape the facility for the first time in their lives, they fervently hunt for a way out. Happening across a slew of origin files, they discover the secrets of their home and who they are: Demons. Summoned here against their will, at that. Itching to leave this place once and for all, they make their way to the underground section of the complex. It's here that they encounter what may be the reason to blame for the carnage above. A powerful demon who calls herself Mercy. This demon gives them an ultimatum. Find a stranger in the city by the name of Red and return him to her. As a proper motivation, Mercy takes one of their own with her, threatening a fate similar to the staff above if they don't comply. Exploring an entirely human world, they're forced to learn how life outside of their facility runs as the clock ticks down.
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My vision tunneled before me, reaching endlessly into the infinite darkness. The absence of light, thought, or being, seemed to wrap around my body like a hot coil, hissing with satisfaction as it burned into my plates.

A sudden radiance threw me back, knocking me off my feet. I caught myself by my hands, sucking in my breath on impact. A clang rang out against the newly tiled floor. Some whisper of a thought danced in the back of my mind, reminding me that this divine light couldn't touch me, for it's only the overhead bulb hanging above my sickened, hallucinating head. I hadn't fallen. It'd be impossible,

I was strapped to a chair.

But for the moment, I allowed myself to be swept away in this fantasy. Slipping away into darkness, my body relaxed.

I raised my head to watch the specialists at work on my body, yet, I was surprised to find that they weren't there.

A darkened hallway stretched out before me, instead, replacing the makeshift surgical room I'd been in moments before. My eyes fell on the tiles laid out neatly beyond my seat. My eyes followed each tile until they were met by a door sitting unbothered at the end of the hall, accompanied by a single cold light overhead. I swallowed, an uneasiness washing over me although I wouldn't let it show. I magically slipped out of my leather restraints, creeping closer to the door lit at the end of the corridor. I rubbed my wrists, as if the restraints had managed to bruise them. Although it was impossible, as well. You can't bruise robots.

I tightened my fingers around my left wrist, which ailed with significantly more pain than the right. I must have loosened a bolt or two. But staring ahead at the door, taunting me from its perch, mocking me in silence, I decided on a whim to deal with the injury later. A defensive anger rose in my throat.

"You don't scare me!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

For a split second, the illusion of the hallway and its looming door dissipated, leaving only two irritated specialists. But just like that, they faded away, and I was left with to my lone audience with a door that only existed behind my eyes.

Disoriented from fading in and out, I stormed towards the closed frame of the door in a frenzy. I couldn't take these damn sessions anymore. I'd lose my mind one of these days. Or they'd kill me.

An almost imperceptible clink drew my attention.

Looking behind me, I could clearly see a bolt glinting off the tiles of the dimly lit floor. I bent down and picked it up, momentarily distracted from my initial beef. Upon scanning my body to see where this bolt had fallen from, I was met with a disturbing sight and sudden realization that my body had already been torn to shreds. Falling apart, with rust rapidly corroding what plates I even had left. An urgency struck me like lightning.

I had to get to that door.

I ran towards it like a bat out of hell, bits of my body falling away, rust snaking along my plates to infect what was left of my decaying body. The door stretched further and further away the more I ran.

It crossed my mind for a moment to think, why was I chasing this imaginary door? What laid beyond it? Why was I so intimidated by it?

I ignored these thoughts and leapt at it with all my might, extending my hands towards it as I freefell through the air.

The floor gave way beneath me, crumbling away into a mouth of mind-numbing darkness. Before I knew what'd hit me, I was sucked in, falling further and further away from the door as I descended into the dark.

I jerked. An elongated metal tool jabbed me in the arm. I growled, yanking my arm away only to find my restraints hadn't in fact magically fallen off. I was no longer falling through the vastness of my feverish, hallucinogenic mind.

"Hold still," the specialist on the right snapped. He snatched my arm and continued tightening the fastens on a plate.

My focus sharpened. Fading back into the hellish reality I'd been blessed to leave, I hissed, clenching my fists in pain. The specialist only grunted, glancing up at me momentarily before his eyes fell back to his work. I gritted my teeth together and rode it out. I'd only get in more trouble if I resisted.

Had I passed out?

My eyes crawled dully across the walls I'd been forced to stare at every six months for five hours while they updated my body. Something about my inability to grow like a human.

I met my gaze in the mirror, pained and aggressive eyes staring back at me. I surveyed the contents of this mirror. A pitiful body radiating pain with each touch sat identical to me across the glass.

Two men stood on either side of me; the specialists, their rough hands hidden behind black gloves, although I knew oil had already soaked through the fabric. They complained about it every time they finished. One man's eyes were downcast, yet held a strange darkness to them I didn't care to understand. His skin was pale, his hair dark and his eyes darker. He never talked during these sessions. The man who I typically ran into complications with had pale blonde hair and faded green eyes. A piece of shit if I ever knew one, which I knew plenty. I can't count the number of times I've broken his skin out of sheer rage for his presence. He and I didn't particularly have good history.

In the reflection, between these men, I saw a robot with messy black hair, reaching to her shoulders. Her eyes were a golden yellow, sparking angrily with electricity whenever the men prodded a newly open piece in her metallic body. Her eyes were dim, defeated yet burning with a subdued rage as she let the process continue. Parts of her metallic body were now exposed, wires and circuits showcased to the mirror as the men continued their work.

My uniform, a gray pair of pants and a grim T-shirt with my serial number imprinted on the breast, laid on the tiled floor in a disarray. This included my underclothes. This was one of the things I hated most about these sessions. I felt exposed, weak, left vulnerable to the world.

The room displayed on the mirror was dull and drab. Behind the large machines surrounding my body as they picked away at my wires, was a room lined with black tile, plainly displayed before me like a fucked-up joke I couldn't run from. The floor was dirty with what my scanners told me was bits of DNA. Skin cells, lone hairs, oil, blood. Other forms that led me to believe I was almost in a good situation right now. It was dimly lit, only a faint glow of cold light gleaming off what plates were still left intact of my body, save for the adjustable overhead bulb. The men replacing my parts wore dark black coats, scars lining their arms I'd surveyed a million times over as rough fingers pulled away at me piece by piece. Adrenaline screamed through my wires as I tried to put on a somewhat tolerant face. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how much hell I was in. I tightened my fists and bore through it. My body trembled with a stinging fire of unrelenting pain, the sharp ache wrapping its venomous fingers around my heart. I dug my canines into my lip, hissing silently under my breath as my vision grew narrow, my head growing both faint and heavy all the same. Like a cloud laced with syrup. I grasped the arms of the chair, my nails biting into the metal of the seat.

Pain screamed through my right arm, slithering up like a nightmare I couldn't escape, robbing me of my sensible mind. I clenched my fists, shutting my teeth so tightly on each other I heard them click. Steam collected in my system, trickling out of my neck's vents, which had opened automatically long ago. I forced myself to breathe. Emotions clambered over one another for control. I wanted to shout, scream, draw blood, anything to get them off me. Anything to get them to stop. I wanted to see them suffer. I wanted to see them burn in hell. I wanted to tear their bodies apart limb by limb, tear their flesh from bone.

I swallowed these thoughts; half-baked and irrationally feverish from being in pain for so many hours. I understood that much in my dazed state. But one thing lingered in my mind, clear as day. I will not black out. I won't give them that satisfaction.

I met the girl's eyes in the mirror.

I won't.