Bananazilla, Coming to a Store Near YOU! - SCP Foundation

…

…

…

It was dark, damp, her vision just barely reaching a meter around her. Yet somehow she found herself blinded by the single lightbulb casting its dim illumination straight into her eyes. She realized she was lying on an operating table.

The sensation was cold, and every time she tried to move, even just thought about it, her body quaked under the pressure, aching all throughout. She winced, but all that came out was a quiet whisper.

A door opened, she could tell by the noise. Then came the footsteps, dozens of them. With each movement, the sound of plastic bending and crinkling rang through the room, as a gloved hand loomed briefly in the corner of her vision. She only just now noticed the constant beeping of a heart-rate monitor.

The face of a man entered her view, finally blocking out that blinding light. His features were being obscured by thick shadows, becoming a mere silhouette in the process.

”Can you hear me?” the man said, calm, quiet.

She tried to move her lips, but they became as dry and heavy as concrete. A painful sensation, punctuated by the man faltering in his stance slightly, the light above peeking out from the edge of his head.

”Can you hear me?”

After another silence, the man averted his gaze at something beyond her vision, as hushed whispers were exchanged. Her ears strained to even get in a single word. The man looked onto her again, obscuring the light once more. In the darkness, she saw his lips move:

”Ms. Watkins,” he began, calmly and softly, ”what is the earliest thing you can remember?”

*

Site-71

2005

*

*

The doors whooshed open. The whole room was filled with the smell of bananas.

And Liu, Morgan, Watkins, and Nakamura all walked in.

”What… the hell.”

”That is not a fish.”

*

Pearl Watkins’ mouth was agape at the sight of the monstrosity lying before her eyes. Its peely yellow skin so unlike anything she could’ve ever imagined. It stretched and bent like regular skin would, though — something that shouldn’t be. She could see the contours and crevices, as the creature’s chest moved up and down, air flowing through its nostrils in volume. Watkins felt her own breath falter within the suit.

The creature’s skin was covered with patches of brown, its limbs grossly out of place, being mere stumps to the rest of its body, twitching sporadically in all directions. She looked further along its body, seeing metal restraints tightly pressed up against it, like a dog pen for a whale, as the creature’s breathing made the restraints give off a whining sound, its body squeezing slightly beyond the cage’s limits. Watkins couldn’t see its face, but imagined it to bear a teeth-ridden, snarling expression.

Marcus Nakamura was equally as frozen in place, as well as awe-struck, eyes wide. He moved toward the creature and pressed his suited hand against it, feeling the rough texture of the beast even against the layers of protective equipment. Security officer Morgan finally sprung into action, extending his hand at Nakamura’s — he was surprised to see Watkins grabbing Nakamura’s arm before him.

”Are you insane?!” she brought out with a forceful quietness, her hand digging deep into Nakamura’s wrist. Her voice sounded muffled, like speaking from the bottom of a lake. He winced a little. ”That thing is NOT a pet!”

That seemed to snap Marcus out of his thoughts, as he quickly retracted his hand from the creature, as the circumstances began to dawn on him again. ”Yes… of course,” he answered, rubbing his wrist with his hand. Sweat rolled down Watkins’ face, as she turned back to the creature, never leaving Marcus out of her sight.

Researcher Matthew Liu, who was battling the urge to order the two to be brought into a room, amnesticized, and thrown back out, cleared his throat, causing all to turn toward him. He gestured to one of the guards in the chamber, also clad in centimeters of protective gear, as they nodded and gestured something else to the other guards.

Watkins and Nakamura watched in horror, as Morgan moved toward the front of their bananafish, stopped half-way through, and turned toward them.

”Didn’t you want to see your fish?” he asked in a manner that meant ’no’ wasn’t an answer. Without even waiting for a response, Morgan turned back around and continued walking.

Seconds passed for Watkins, until something tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to flinch and scream all at the same time. Her gloved hands hit the visor of the suit, as she saw Liu looking at her with wide eyes, his hand just somewhat away from her shoulder. When she realized what had went down everyone had already turned their head toward her. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, completely subsiding her fear.

”Well,” Liu began, stumbling for words, ”I can assure you there is nothing to fear. It’s under heavy sedation right now, so anything it might try to do, it couldn’t do, even if it wanted to.”

Watkins gulped, her mind speechless.

As the silence just permeated on, Liu averted his gaze again, giving Watkins a half-hearted pat on the shoulder, before walking to Morgan with a certain spring in his steps.

Looking at the guard, who was looking back at her, before averting their gaze, and with no other option in sight, she waltzed on. Every step she took was quaking. Nakamura followed in her steps, just as squeezy as his colleague.

When Liu caught up to Morgan, he leaned in to his ear, saying: ”You should’ve left them at home.”

”Yeah,” was all Liu could reply with.

When they all arrived to the head of the creature, it was nothing short of breathtaking; its beady eyes were tightly shut, as its lower jaw laid on the floor, revealing row after row of razor sharp teeth, drooling. Its breath reeked of bananas, rotten, yet oddly fruity all at the same time.

Pearl gulped some more, her head dizzy, stemming her hands on her knees. Nakamura felt his senses go numb from the smell, as his mind couldn’t even tell what it was looking at.

Liu glanced at the two; the one about to faint and the other one about to vomit, both of which would be a lot of paperwork to sort through. Before any of these scenarios could come to pass, Researcher Liu faced them, a stern expression on his face.

”Would you be able to identify your fish?” he asked, just to get those two into the proper mindset — work needed to be done.

A spark flamed up in Watkins’ eyes, a brief retrieve from the new world she was in. ”We’d need s—some tests done on its genes… but with this… thing…” She looked at its stubby limbs, human limbs.

Liu nodded. ”Understood. Mr. Nakamura?”

Nakamura snapped out of his headspace, sweat rolling down his face as he faced Liu. ”Y—yeah?”

”Are you okay?”

He just nodded.

Liu turned to the beast again, holding a swab between his glove-clad fingers, as he made sure to make as little noise as possible. Watkins tensed up, the swab seeping into the creature’s viscous spit, with a tint of yellow.

He heaved the sample into a plastic bag, catching himself glancing at the creature beside him, his breath heavy, as he slowly steadied himself straight again.

It felt like a weight was being lifted from his heart, only now taking in the beating in his ears. Turning to look at Morgan, rifle firmly gripped in his hands, he turned back to the two people quaking in their boots.

A guard held their rifle trained between the beast’s eyes.

”Easy there, Cray. Don’t wanna be too hasty,” Morgan said. The guard didn’t falter in his stance even for a bit.

”We will go straight to analysis. You two can—”

A low growl made Liu’s heart skip a beat. Everyone’s hearts. His hands became sweaty, his legs mere sticks that were about to break away under him, his muscles turning into jelly.

Another growl, this one even deeper and more prolonged than before, sent shivers down his spine. He felt a hand touching his shoulder, Morgan’s hand, his head spinning to him.

Liu could see his colleague mouthing the words,”Go,” time trickling away, as he realized what he meant. Watkins and Nakamura didn’t look as shocked as he pictured them to be, but when SCP-2761 gave off a howl of pure agony, they quickly realized the situation they found themselves in.

Dozens of tranquilizer darts were fired into the hide of the creature, with the guard from before unloading twice as many as the others. It growled and roared, Morgan and his squad backing away, never taking their aim off of it.

”Move!” Liu yelled, taking both Watkins’ and Nakamura’s hands, whose yells and cries were at least dampened by their protective suits.

Nakamura breathed heavily under his suit. ”We’re all going to die!” he cried out, the tears coming out as fast as he could run.

”Shut up, you’re not going to die—”

In an instant, the leg of 2761 that had been a little stump only moments prior erupted into a giant appendage, its yellow rubbery skin extending and contorting in all the wrong angles, as it grew into a full, three-clawed foot, like seeing a timelapse of a baby growing up.

Its claws scratched the floor, as it suddenly heaved itself up to the ceiling, the dangling strobe lights shattering into thousands of fragments that rained onto those below. Everyone stemmed their heads into their hands, as the one guard’s suit got pierced by the fragments, being sent tumbling to the floor.

The creature stood taller than anything else in the room on its two new legs, as it roared wrinkles through the air — Liu thought it to sound like a T-Rex, a real T-Rex. The metal cage smashed violently against the ceiling, heaves of concrete, rebar and metal chains falling along the creature’s sides and back, dust leveling eyesight.

Watkins pulled the too-stunned Nakamura, who was praying his final prayers already, out of the debris’ way, as they both fell to the floor and retreated into a foetal position.

Liu, like others, was almost crushed under a piece of debris, but Morgan dived through the clouds of dust to save his colleague from a long busted metal chain, each piece as big as his head. 2761 roared some more.

The gates suddenly opened, as various more personnel, each equipped with a tranquilizer gun, rushed into the room, and quickly surrounded the entity. More guards rushed in, now equipped with something stronger than just tranquilizers.

The entity ripped apart the last chain, its metal prison in shambles before it, as it felt its eyelids slowly becoming heavier. The dark pupils told nothing to the many soldiers firing away at the creature. It could feel itself tumbling over its own feet, before it fell against the cold concrete floor, the smell of bananas even more pronounced than ever.

Eventually, its eyes shut tight again, and it felt the pain slowly dissipate, as it slipped back into the sweet oblivion.

It took some time for Liu to be finally on his legs again. Morgan dusted himself off, while the soldiers established a perimeter around 2761. The medics came soon after, hauling those injured out of the chamber, some unconscious and others with holes in their heads.

Watkins and Nakamura were like statues, but the guards were able to haul their asses out of the chamber, too — like they even wanted to be in here anymore.

The entire world around him was like a blur, until Morgan’s voice rang in his ears again, and his look wasn’t so distant anymore.

”You okay, Matt?”

”Y—yes… Yes, I am. You?”

”Don’t worry about me,” he pointed at Watkins and Nakamura.

After a few seconds: ”Yes… yes, of course.” He moved out of the chamber, after the two, unresponsive to the world around them as ever.

As he ran out, he could swear the creature’s beady black eyes were staring back at him.

*

The pain that reached deep down into her bones persisted, her lips still unmoving. Her eyes, though; they told the man everything that he needed to know.

The man turned to look at another person just out of Pearl’s view, a feeling of dread building up within her, more unintelligible words in her ears.

She felt a searing burn deep in her chest, her heart, as the man left her vision; moments later, he returned and that burning sensation was gone.

”Dammit, we’re supposed to keep her alive, not kill her!”

”I—I’m sorry, doctor,” was all she could hear, as the blackness she awoke from slowly crept back up again.

*

Morgan passed around the debris, his thick boots crushing the concrete bits under him into smaller fragments. The dust hurtled just above his feet. He hadn’t taken his headgear off. Although 2761 had been moved, he couldn’t stand the smell of bananas — it made him dizzy.

On one of the larger concrete-rebar pieces sat Cray, a bandage around his left hand. The medics took a sample of his spit, the imposing stature of the man shifting awkwardly in the gear. Then the medic packed their things and waltzed passed Morgan, their eyes definitely watery.

”Everything all right over there?” Morgan asked.

Cray rubbed his hand.

”That… thing… what is it?” he asked.

”The lab experiment of a few scientists flushed down the gutter.”

”But that thing was massive! Why would anyone ever create something like that?”

”Profit, brother. It’s all about profit.”

Cray looked down at the floor.

”Come on,” Morgan spoke up, ”take the rest of the day off.” Morgan gave him a pat on the back.

Cray, who stood a few inches taller than Morgan, rubbed his hand. Morgan pat him on the back, and Cray made his way out of there.

*

The cigarette smoke blew high into the cloudy sky, his long exhale the loudest noise anywhere nearby. Carlston Cray let the fire eat away at his cig, while thoughts rushed to the forefront of his mind ever-so slowly.

It had been difficult during his times. Always at the brink of starvation, balancing on the thin thread between existence and annihilation. His mother tried to do the best for him, but even he knew that it wasn’t enough, even so young. Crime was the daily, with a corrupted system tying everything together into a neat little bow.

But one day, there stepped in an organization, which offered his mother and him salvation, refuge from the shithole that had been their life — no fear of starvation, of being robbed of the littlest of things they possessed, of not making it to tomorrow, of seperation.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. A quick glance at the disabled security camera, he pulled it out, his movements calm, but slow, apathetic, pressing it tightly against his ear. He balanced what little remained of his cig in his other hand.

”Ready?” a distorted voice spoke.

Cray exhaled. ”Send some additional forces at 71. There is an asset that’d be of great interest to our customers.”

There was a pause. ”Which one?” the distorted voice asked, curiously.

Cray let his cigarette fall to the ground and stomped the stump under his thick leather boot. ”A newcomer, freshly recovered; could be worth a few billion.”

There was another long pause; despite this, Cray could feel the person on the other side clenching together their fists. ”Marshall, Carter & Dark only prides itself—”

”Spare me the lecture,” Cray said, now in a more stern voice, ”bring another squad in and a cage big enough to fit a T-Rex.”

Beford the voice on the other side could protest any further, he hung up, basking in the sudden silence. He wasn’t about to let a file clerk with a voice changer jeopardize the entire operation, let alone question his authority.

*

Pearl and Marcus sat in the sterile infirmary, their hands tightly interlocked with each other’s. Neither of them gave out so much as a squeak. Their stares were absent, trained to the linoleum floor, monitors and IV-drips going off in the background. Everything was seperated by pastel green curtains.

As the seconds turned into minutes on the wall-mounted clock, Marcus looked over at Pearl. Her eyes were trained on the floor, like a mannequin for display, unmoving, not even flinching. Marcus tapped her lightly on the shoulder, which appeared to shock her somewhat. He gave her a soft smile when she looked over at him — the best smile he could give in such a situation. She tried to smile back.

”Hey,” was the only thing Marcus could say.

”Hey,” Pearl replied back. Her eyes averted back to the floor.

”Everything all right?”

It took her some time to answer. ”Yes… yes.” She didn’t look him in the eyes.

Marcus just nodded. ”That’s good… that’s good.”

The seconds trickled away on the clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…

Marcus opened his mouth again, careful for his choice of words, and said: ”I want to see our bananafish again.”

Pearl instantly shot up from her stance of lethargy, and retreated her hand out of his. ”Are you nuts?!”

He tried to calm her down, but found himself lost for words; he hadn’t seen her so energetic before. ”Pearl, please… let me explain—”

She stomped her heel against the floor. ”That thing should be pumped up with toxins and be disposed of immediately!” she almost yelled. Her breathing was heavy, her hands clenched into fists.

At the mere mention of those words, Nakamura clenched his teeth; his own heart was beating rapidly now. Watkins saw this, and her anger and frustration grew into concern. ”Dispose of it? What, like what Higgins did?”

Pearl remained silent. She had never seen him so energetic before. ”Do you know why I joined Aquagene, Pearl?” He waited for her to answer, but nothing came. ”It was to create life, not to dispose of it the moment it displayed deviant behavior. That ’thing’ is a breathing, living creature, and you just want to dispose of it, like it were some broken toy or faulty product?”

Pearl, letting the initial wave of concern and fear wear off, spoke: ”But it is a faulty product. A product that could’ve killed us all, if we wouldn’t have been lucky!”

That shut both of them right up. Pearl stared into Marcus’ eyes for a little longer than was comfortable, which she took notice of, and sat down again. Marcus simply remained where he was, but he shifted a little less comfortably in his seat. Both remained silent for the remainder.

Memories of his childhood crept into his mind, but he shook them off for just a moment longer.

The minutes ticked by on the clock.

*

”Amnesticize them,” Site-Director Amariam Gurrira said, with no room for interpretation. Researcher Liu just looked perplexed.

Director Gurrira was in her mid-fifties, short, black hair with streakes of grey already creeping in, wrinkles adorning the edges of her face and her hands. She had been here longer than anyone else at Site-71 — Liu still remembered their first meeting at the conference hall two decades ago.

”Director, with all due respect, Drs. Watkins and Nakamura are valuable assets for the further study and understanding of SCP-2761—”

”Valuable assets that almost got killed! They can’t provide us with any more information that we wouldn’t be able to figure out ourselves. They are at active risk, and I don’t want them wandering around 71.”

Liu moved his lips to speak, but Director Gurrira held up her hand to stop him right then and there. ”No further inquiries are to be made on this subject. You are dismissed, Researcher Liu.”

Before he could think any further thought, the lights went out.

When they turned back on, the emergency lights plunged everything into a deep red, as the klaxons started to sound, reverberating within his ears, as the yells of guards and dozens of footsteps echoed through the narrow corridors outside. His heart was beating seventy miles per hour.

Director Gurrira tried to contact the appropriate channels, but they had all inexplicably been down, so she opted to retrieve her pistol from underneath her desk. Liu recoiled out of habit; he never was a guns person.

As she was checking how much ammunition was left in the cartridge, the door slid open, and a young guard, no older than twenty-one, stepped in.

”Director,” the guard began, breathing and sweating heavily under his gear all the same, ”we’ve got a situation.”

”No shit,” Gurrira replied, sliding the cartidge into her pistol. ”What kind of situation?”

The guard stammered something incomprehensible, as the world around Liu suddenly turned into a cacophony of sights, sounds, and, weirdly enough, smells.

The guard and director were looking at him, him struggling to stay on his two feet, holding onto his seat, as the smell invaded his nostrils, his brain.

Eventually, though, he regained his senses. His body adapted to that sickly smell.

”Liu, what’s going on?” she asked.

He didn’t even answer. The aftertaste of the smell lingered in his brain. The corridors reeked of bananas.

*

The lights turned out. There was a split second, in which Marcus could feel all of his body’s systems screeching to a halt, petrified to his soul. When the red emergency lights and the klaxons turned on in their place, he still felt as stiff as a statue, but at least he could feel the warmth in his fingertips again.

A medical doctor, short, brown hair, brown eyes, face-mask obscuring their face, unknown name, rushed to the door, yelling something against the deafening klaxons. They tried their best to seem calming. They pulled out a handgun, holding their access card up against the scanner. Marcus wanted to chase after him, get a sense of what it was he had said, but the moment that door slid open, an ear-piercing rang reverberated throughout the hallway, as the sensation of wetness, warmth, and coldness hit his face and his clothes.

It took a moment for him to realize fully what was going on, as Pearl screamed and cowered between the chairs, as the rest of the infirmary erupted into a blind, loud panic.

He looked down at his clothes, felt his cheek with his hand, and saw red stains upon him, soaking into his clothes’ fabric. The squishy texture of brain matter squeezed and oozed underneath the tips of his fingers, as his arms fell limp, his legs turning into goo, and stumbled into a corner.

The corpse of the doctor laid there in the hallway, a hole where their left eye once was. Blood was seeping out of it, pooling around them in an iron-smelling, wet, warm puddle. Their hand was still clasping that handgun, their fingers tightly pressed around its hilt.

Footsteps approached, but grew into a distant blur, almost dream-like, as Marcus breaths grew heavier and heavier. The moment he perceived the world around him normally again, was when the footsteps came to a halt, and another man’s hand wrapped around his. The man threw him up to his feet, and knocked him straight into the opposite wall. The blunt sensation rippled through his spine, he thought one of his ribs might’ve cracked. He hit the floor just as unmajestically.

The next thing he saw was the man, clad in heavy, face-obscuring gear and a rifle, pulling Pearl to her feet. She trembled in fear, while the other people in the room — simple medics, injured soldiers and patients — could only hold their hands up. Marcus looked up to see the nuzzle of the rifle being pointed straight at his forehead. The ringing dissipated, but he could still hardly understand the man at all.

As he rose to his feet, he got pushed into Pearl, the nuzzle buried in his back. The soldier shouted more indistinct phrases, and guided them into the hallway.

Before they knew it, a bullet flew through the air and pierced directly into the soldier’s neck, blood squirming everywhere. He tried to put pressure on it, but as his surroundings faded, so too did he, until the only thing left of him was a sack of meat, skin and bone.

The next few minutes passed in a hurry, Marcus and Pearl stuck in their little headspaces. Those headspaces were quickly burst, when Morgan turned both of them around, and that not lightly, to face him. For the first time in those last couple of moments, he understood what another person was saying.

”Move!”

Their legs grew into a full sprint, as they realized more people were sprinting alongside them; the simple medics and doctors, injured soldiers and patients, some holding onto each other, all heading to the nearest shelter, as Morgan’s shouting became quieter by the seconds.

*

Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again. Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again. Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again. Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again…

It was nearly routine for Cray. His rifle was firmly in his hands, the bullets flying down the corridors with deadly precision, the blood of his colleagues spilled onto the floor and walls. He thought about what they were thinking in their last moments, when they saw their colleague, a friend turn around a corner and, before they had any time to react, him sending a shot through their skull or chest.

He shook away that thought and kept on shooting.

Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again. Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again. Sprint, duck, cover, peek, shoot, peek, sprint again…

*

A whoosh zipped past him, followed by a thud of concrete being burst. Marcus looked behind him, but he was pulled behind a corner too quickly for him to see the hole the bullet left.

The thumping of his heart drowned out the gunfire that soon followed, as Morgan took several shots, before just as quickly taking cover again. Crumbs of concrete shattered into hundreds of fragments, littering the entire floor.

The doctors, the medics, the injured — they all huddled in a foetal position, some holding each other, like it was the last day on earth. He didn’t blame them, not at all, as Pearl and him were doing the same. They were trying to shut out the mayhem erupting all around them.

Their hands interlocked with each other’s, eyes shut tight, a hand raised to their ear, the arrythmic thumping of their hearts sounding like it was about to explode out of their chests. This primal fear of whether or not one’d make it to the following morning was boiling within them.

A guttural howl, followed by a stifled gasp, all capped off with a wet, hard thud. Marcus didn’t even know what was going on, as footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor, and Pearl suddenly sprang into motion.

In an act he never would’ve thought she was capable of, Pearl made a dash for Morgan’s rifle, laying next to his motionless body, the footsteps inching closer with every passing second. Her hands were on the trigger, as haphazard and uncoordinated her movements and posture were, and pulled the trigger…

… but the shot never came. A different shot, now coming from behind them, hit Pearl in the neck, causing her to wrench up in pain. It was a needle, a needle filled with god-knows-what, as she stumbled to the floor and the world around her became one giant, fuzzy image.

Marcus wasn’t as lucky. A right hook to his face with the end of the soldier’s rifle knocked him to the floor, then he got injected with presumably the same stuff Pearl had been hit with. And that was that.

*

”Load him up,” Cray spoke to his masked colleague. They simply nodded in return, threw Nakamura over their shoulders, their stance shifting slightly, and hurried down the corridor the fastest they could.

Cray himself made his way to Dr. Watkins — past all the eyes adjusting to his tall figure in the darkness of the corridors. As he leaned down to pick her up, breaths, so hushed, yet so poignant, bored their way into his ears. He turned to look, the scientist, blood pooling out of an opening of their arm where there shouldn’t have been one, pressed themselves further up against the wall. Their eyes didn’t leave him out of their sight.

The sound of tearing and ripping cloth momentarily halted the scientist’s breaths, if only for a little while. Cray held out his hand, his black-gloved hand looking like claws in the dim red lights. He peered at the researcher through those red lights, however, and the scientist couldn’t help themselves, but take the hand.

Their fingers touched fabric, soft and rough.

”Wrap that around your arm,” Cray said, with a demanding undertone. He pointed at the wound at their arm.

The scientist took the cloth, so light in their hand, before looking back at the soldier. Cray, however, was already throwing Watkins over his shoulder, and burst into a dash, his figure becoming a mere silhouette at the end of the corridor.

*

*

INCIDENT REPORT ECHO-ROMEO-ALPHA

On ██/██/2005, several raids at fifteen (15) seperate Foundation facilities were carried out by members of Group of Interest 014 (”Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd.”).

Investigations are still ongoing, but it is presumed that this massive breach of internal security was accomplished by various double agents of GoI-014, posted at these facilities.

The amount of anomalous objects acquired during these events is vast, and will be expanded, until operations are able to resume.

Current SCP objects unaccounted for are:

| SCP-005 (Priority: LOW) |

| SCP-008 (Priority: HIGH) |

| SCP-011 (Priority: LOW) |

| SCP-039 (Priority: MEDIUM) |

| SCP-1810 (Priority: LOW) |

| SCP-2761 (Priority: HIGH) |

*

*

Another jolt. A searing pain deep in her head. Dr. Watkins awoke from her slumber by a stab in the head, or at least it very much felt like it. Her eyes glazed around the room, the doctors in their white coats standing at the screens and monitors. Slowly beeping away…

There was a sound, so distinct, her eyes shot open for just a moment, before they closed again. Her mind was fully awake, though, taking in every single sound from every single corner of the room. People spoke.

”Is she all right?” a man with a deep voice said, raspy sounding, most likely from years of smoking.

”Her vitals are within acceptable limits.”

”And the man?” the man asked.

”Same for him.”

”Good.”

There was this grain of familiarity in the man’s voice, but she couldn’t place it. Not fully. Her head hurt, spinning around in endless spirals.

”Load them up with tranqs,” the man said, puffing out a cloud of cigarette smoke from his mouth, ”the auction will begin in five minutes.”

”Understood, Agent Cray.”

She tried to fight against her restraints, yell out, but before she could do anything about it, the world around her turned into an indescribable mess of sounds and colors.

*

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