Today, like always, I had a terrible nightmare.

Y/N: ...

I remember clearly how it began, the foundation of the shaky illusion I lived through.

The first thing my eyes were able to comprehend were the yellowish walls of the Central Command team. However, unlike the last time I went through this place, the room looked perfectly clean and occupied by the sounds of conversations around me

I remained silent and observed the workers walk around, casually conversing with each other as they went about their work. Everything was exactly how I remembered, the calm before the storm, the serenity of a perfect day.

Slowly, my eyes made their way down to my sleeves and just like before, a familiar pink color greeted me along with a warmth that I was beginning to miss.

"Captain?"

I don't how long I remained like this, simply watching a sight that I thought I would never be able to see ever again. My guess would be "too long". Only after one of the employees grabbed my shoulder that I realized that they were calling my name.

Y/N: Heh?!

Still not used to the scene, I jumped in my seat and swiftly turned my head to face my interlocutor. The feeling was sent back their way and allowed me to witness a repeat of my reaction in the movements of the office worker who snapped me out of my daze.

Y/N: O-Oh, sorry. Is something wrong?

A drop of sweat fell down my face out of embarrassment.

Office Worker: Um... The Manager has sent a work order for you.

Y/N: Sorry, I must have spaced out.

I hurriedly stood up and dusted off my uniform before grabbing the sniper rifle on the desk next to me, a wonderful weapon that kept me alive for a long time. As I prepared myself mentally, I tossed a question at the employee standing beside me.

Y/N: So, who is it? Nothing There? Queen of Hatred?

Office Worker: ...

His eyes slowly averted from mine in response.

Office Worker: We don't know.

Y/N: ...What do you mean?

Office Worker: We have no information on it.

Y/N: ...

I blinked once and cleared my head to the best of my capabilities. The complete lack of information made my blood freeze as I realized that I was basically thrown in as a test dummy. An awkward laugh escaped my lips after a moment of hesitation.

Y/N: Oh, right... ha. I guess I'll... just go.

I didn't even ask for a direction, content with simply following where my body was guiding me. On the way to my possible death, I flipped through some pages of a notepad I was carrying around.

"Come on Y/N, you can do it! Just act natural and everything will be alright. You did this with One Bro and many others and it went perfectly fine."

Those words were definitely at the bottom of the barrel in terms of good reasoning but I was willing to cling onto it like a lifeline, showing just how stressed I was. Finally, a single reinforced door stood in front of me.

This lone obstacle was the end of my so-called "dream" and the start of my ordeal.

Once inside the locked room, I expected to find a form or an object my fragmented memory could recognize but was instead met with something entirely unknown to me. The floor around me was covered with purple flowers, all of which looked like they were waiting my arrival. Standing proudly in the middle of the containment room, a larger flower of the same color was looking down at me, weakly moving along with the faint breeze passing by.

Y/N: ...

This odd scene was something completely unknown to me. No matter how far I tried to go into the broken mess that is my mind, I couldn't remember an abnormality taking the shape of a massive purple flower.

Did that thing ever exist? Am I simply going insane? Maybe I simply couldn't remember it. Just attempting to graze the borders of the floating fragments composing my memories of the past was enough to give me a headache.

I quickly spun a pen around my fingers and began my work. With nothing to assist me on what to do, I decided to go for something simple: a drawing of the unknown lifeform looking back at me. It should be fine, right?

This vague worry was haunting me, watching my every movements. My fear, at the same time, was whispering in my ears about possibilities, each worse than the last. In this paranoid state, I could sometimes see the flowers dance, giggle to themselves as they observed my behaviour.

My sanity was slipping through my fingers. My mind had a hard time focusing on the drawing in my hands, unlike my body, who went as fast as possible in order to escape this horrible experience. The final lines were drawn completely blind but I didn't care, I wanted to get out of this room as fast as possible.

...Yes, I want to get out... so where is the exit? Why can't I leave?

Y/N: ...

I swiftly did a 180 and remained still. The door was no longer present, as if it never existed in the first place.

The sight of a beautiful garden was the only thing I could see no matter how many times I turned around. The monotone and man-made walls of the containment unit were gone, replaced with a greyish sky that made me sick. Just looking at it was enough to give me the urge to puke.

Yet, no matter how strong the desire grew, I simply couldn't. The smell of the plants all around me were numbing my nerves...

Then, something grabbed my foot, snapping me out of my stupor. Quick on the offensive, I swung my left hand in the direction of the unknown presence and a blast of flames filled my vision, turning what looked to be a large root into a pile of ashes.

The sudden attack was akin to a shot of adrenaline sent directly into my veins, allowing me to think properly for a short amount of time. My head, temporarily cleansed from the intoxicating smell of the field of plants trapping me, was able to formulate a single question in my head as I watched in shock at what was left behind.

...

"What the fuck just happened?"

My mind desperately tried to explain what just occured but was soon interrupted by a second attack, forcing me to focus on what was happening around me if I didn't want to end up as their next meal. 

I was all alone in a false garden of eden, circled by mocking flowers chanting together, spreading their odor in the air like smoke. Barely able to keep my thoughts straight, I tightened my grasp on the rifle I was carrying and stood my grounds.

One thought remained before my sanity became muddled once more.

I had to win.

https://youtu.be/q_4jXySUgLM

With a finger on the trigger, I raised the barrel of my rifle and took the shot, sending a projectile directly into the large flower that seemed to act as the brain of this illusion. At first, nothing followed but soon enough, a rumble coming from the earth beneath my feet faintly reached my hearing distance.

Out of instinct, my feet jumped away from the source of the disturbance, allowing me to see a pair of vines swing where my legs were. The landing that followed was not as soft as I would have liked and a trail of dirt left behind by my body could attest to that.

The flowerbed that welcomed my falling body giggled and whispered their devilish scent into the atmosphere. Their words were varied but remained around the same subject.

"The poor workers of this prison must have it rough, they deserve to rest."

"Why struggle, don't you want to escape your captors?"

"Close your eyes, we'll take care of everything."

Y/N: ...

I let out a soft groan and slapped some senses into me, shrugging off the voices calling me. Standing in middle of everything, the massive flower that attacked went back to observing my movements. The sudden assault must have taken it by surprise if I have to guess.

...

..."Taken by surprise". Seriously, is my brain turning into mush? It's a damn flower, how the hell am I able to sense what it- Whatever.

I loaded a second bullet into the rifle and aimed at my target. The second shot flew across the space separating us with a fulgurating speed. A single hole formed itself in one of the petals of the abnormality as a sign of my good marksmanship.

Sadly, I couldn't celebrate this victory. The first thing that I could feel the moment the bullet pierced through my opponent's body was another part of what lies under my feet hitting the side of my face, sending me in the air for a period of time that my drugged mind couldn't calculate.

A second landing ended my unexpected flight and just like the former, it was not a pleasant experience. My lungs cried in agony, crushed against my ribcage and leaving my body completely paralyzed for a moment. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force myself to accept the oxygen it needed.

This pitiful struggle of mine was mocked from all sides, shunning my efforts to rebel against my death. The stronger one simply grabbed my ankle and pulled me in the air. Once upside down, the many pockets on the pink E.G.O suit opened and with it, every magazines fell down along with a sharp army knife.

Thankfully, with the tip of my fingers, I was able to salvage the small blade midair and swung at the roots holding me. I don't know if the "limb" was weaker than I expected or my desperation gave my attack a stronger push but I was able to to make a clean cut through it. A third landing arrived and this time, I took the opportunity to roll on the ground, reducing the initial shock.

Armed with only a knife, I faced the abnormality who looked down at my poor performance. Sweats were running down my face and for a damn good reason, I was completely overwhelmed. My head was having difficulties piecing thoughts together and the incessant mockeries were not helping my morale.

...

Y/N: ...

The pink rifle I was used to wield was on the floor along with the magazines. Trying to go for it would be equivalent to jumping off a cliff, forcing me to proceed with only a short weapon.

"There has to be a way out of this mess. Come on, you can figure something out!"

Those words kept ringing in my skull but never fully led to anything, the scent filling the air made sure of that. With the few neurons that I was able to keep relatively stable, I began to express my frustration against the flowers singing together, enjoying the sight of a one-sided battle.

The more they laughed, the more potent the effects were.

If only there was a way to burn them all.

Y/N: ...

I frowned slightly at that thought, realizing that I was completely powerless at the moment. In this state of realization, I almost missed a surprise hit coming from behind me. A drop of sweat fell down my face as I sprinted away, grazing the sharp root going for my neck. Once safely away, my gaze landed on the large body in front of me and my own charged ahead, going for a swift slash.

Not willing to let itself be exposed, a clash occured between my short knife and a group of vines who immediately retaliated with a flurry of bruises that shoved me a few feet away. The first duel lost, I still pushed through and slipped past, stabbing right through the thin part of the flower.

It was a great attempt, I have to admit. Sadly, attacking with a mere blade placed me at a heavy disadvantage due to my lack of range. The proof of my statement quickly revealed itself in a rather dramatic way. The ground around split open and from the crevasses, multiple vines emerged and circled the body of the plant, trapping me inside a bubble of nature and cutting the amount of sunlight I had.

Finally, as if this wasn't enough, sharp thorns emerged from the appendages locking me in a restricted area. The top of the Abnormality slowly lowered its view to observe me from above me and began to shrink the prison around me.

"Close your eyes, let the pollen relieve your pain."

Those sweet words were like honey being fed to me, my drugged mind was having a hard time fighting against its demand. My reasoning was slowly losing its grip unlike my body who went into a blind rage, swinging the sharp blade in my hand indiscriminately.

If something moved, I would simply cut it down, inflict as much pain as I could in the hope of escaping this green shell. In the process, many of the thorns attempted to pierce through the suit I was wearing but without success, the power of the E.G.O capable of repelling the weak stabs.

Swing swing swing.

The sound of metal against nature filled my ears and encouraged my rampaging being to keep going. Yet, no matter how many times I try to cut a way out, no progress was made.

The vines are too strong for a small knife...

...

Then just kill the weaker spot.

Y/N: How about I relieve you of the agony I'm gonna put you through.

I mumbled to myself and locked my stare at the purple petals looking down at me. Its head was a perfect circle, a perfect target for an attack. Gritted teeth followed, giving my arm the excess of energy it needed to throw the weapon I was carrying directly into my target.

The trajectory was impeccable and a loud screech signified that my last effort was a good one. As the sign of my victory, the scream echoing in the air felt both unnerving and satisfying. The walls locking me soon began to rot and fall into pieces, granting me my freedom.

...The yells persisted, slowly becoming closer to a human's. The slow transformation sent shivers down my spine as I watched the top of the large flower, pierced by the blade still stuck inside.

Y/N: ...

Finally, the voice died and along with it, just like a butterfly tearing out of its cocoon, an unknown mass tore through the damaged head and fell on the ground at my feet, making me jump in fright.

My eyes slowly lowered to what landed at my feet. What followed was a complete stop of my breathing, my heartbeat coming to a perfect halt for a single moment.

There, laying on the floor, was a human body.

A female body, motionless, expressionless, a blade inside their face.

A facial wound like this would make it unrecognizable. Yes, it should have but...

Those long hair, those delicate hands, a suit made from the beast of the Black Forest...

A kind smile and easily flustered face...

I...

...

My shoulder dropped, my hands began to shake and my legs gave out. My mind was splashed by a metaphorical bucket of cold water, waking up from its drugged daze. My own visage contorted into a horrified expression.

I could heart static in the distance.

Completely silent, I let my head drop onto the chest of the motionless one, burying myself into it. I refused to move, feeling the cold body pressed against my skin. I simply lacked the will to budge.

The static was now unbearable.

I am a murderer.

The static filled my vision.

...

...

Angela: Y/N?

Y/N: What do you want?

An annoyed response was all he gave to her as he leaned further into his seat, his eyes vacantly staring in front of him. This bickering was a normal occurence by now, even Roland gave up trying to ease the tension. The best he could do was control their anger.

A sigh escaped the director's lips.

Roland: You're alright? You looked like you were spacing out.

Y/N: It's the best I can do to escape from our "lovely" lady's gaze.

One thing remained: his sharp retorts. Seemingly pleased by the insult, the Library quickly changed the subject by creating a familiar window floating in front of them. The trio soon became quiet as they watched what would soon be their next guests.

There, a woman dressed in white, named Pierre, was happily cutting some meat while mumbling to herself.

Pierre: Nope, not this, that won't do either... I can't seem to find the one that strikes me with inspiration!

Her joyful complaint was answered by a pair of footsteps, which was followed by a man wearing an apron and carrying a butcher knife in one hand. His other was dragging a large bag. His name was Jack.

Jack: Hey there Pierre~ Brought you some fresh ones this time. They got a bit too bruised but they're still breathing.

Finally, as if only realizing now what was happening, the man raised an eyebrow and a visible question mark flew above his head.

Jack: What, busy developping a new dish?

Pierre: Oh, welcome Jack~!

His voice cut her thoughts short and her smile grew bigger as she placed a hand against her hip, brandishing her knife slightly to greet him.

Pierre: Dishes are one thing but we're running way too short on ingredients these days.

Jack: What happened?

Pierre: 'The Musicians of Bremen' say they're no longer selling ingredients to us.

Jack: Those freaks were always unpredictable.

His comment was followed by him placing his bag on a table. Now fully visible to the trio, it didn't take long for the assistant to notice a hand poking out from the hole. At first, his brain tried to process if what he was seeing was nothing more than him hallucinating but after a few blinks, he was forced to admit that what he was seeing was the truth.

Y/N: ...Are they-?

His eyes averted to Roland's face, who remained completely cold. The sight was not affecting him in the slightest and Angela showed a growing curiosity. None of them demonstrated a form of shock like his.

While this was happening, the ongoing conversation continued.

Pierre: While we're at it, I want to be more experimental with new ingredients. I've been using only young ones for far too long.

Jack: Aw, that's unfortunate... I'll miss the pasty hand pies that you make...

The mere mention of "hand" made the colors of his face fade away. The thought of a pie with a human hand sticking out of it was giving him the urge to puke the leftovers of what he last ate... which was weeks ago, before the collapse of L Corp.

Pierre: -That's right! The Eight Chefs are the brightest Stars of the City that shine over us. They never fail to present us with stunning and sensational flavors.

Sensing that something was odd, the AI's stare turned to her unwilling assistant and witnessed a face paler than hers looking down at the floor. Even before the sudden appearance of their future guests, he looked preoccupied by something and his discomfort was clearly visible.

Angela: ...

A whisper in the back of her head told her to say something but her own voice of reason replied with a "What would I even say?", nothing she said could ever calm the employee who loathed her with a fervent passion.

Why was she even telling herself to do something? It was clear as day that he would simply shoved her extended hand away, even if it killed him.

Finally, her initial feeling slipped into the worker and his own eyes met hers. For a moment, no movements was seen from the duo until a small frown formed on the ex-agent's visage. It was not used as a sign of disdain but rather confusion.

"Why is she looking at me?"

Y/N: ...

Angela: ...

Silently, the both turned and focused on the window ahead of them, pretending that this never occured. It was for the best, otherwise nothing good would follow.

Pierre: I got an invitation from that Library some time ago, see?

To prove herself, she slipped a piece of paper between her fingers and caught it effortlessly, revealing the appearance and message that the librarians were used to seeing by now. Jack let out a small whistle in response.

Pierre: I'll surprise the gourments with a dish that's so simulating and novel, it could even rival the Eight Chefs themselves. So, Jack, you can just count on me and follow my lead, understand?

His silence was interrupted by a loud "Splat" coming from the bloody bag he began to open.

Jack: What are we going to do with the ingredients I brought today?

Pierre: Let's turn them into jam. We're bottling them alive, so put 'em on drips of anesthetics and repressors and store 'em in the kneader.

Jack: Meat jam's nice...

Y/N: Ugh... No more meat for today.

Pierre: I knew you'd love it! Oh, and as I said before,  you have to put 'em legs first, not head first. We gotta keep 'em alive as long as possible, you know.

She calmly signed her name on the piece of paper with a pen and softly mumbled to herself.

Pierre: It's not as flavourful if they die too quickly.

Only after those words left her lips, the scene before them vanished. Immediately and with no hesitation, the agent turned his attention to the Grade 9 Fixer and gave him a long look along with a "Please tell me this is a rarity".

Roland: There are quite a few who are into this sort of stuff.

Angela: Hm...

Roland: Oh, but it's kinda taboo, even in the Backstreets. You certainly can't go around saying how tasty human meat is.

Y/N: Oh thank fuck, better than it being accepted by everyone.

He let out a deep sigh of relief and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving himself the time to recover the colors of his face.

Roland: ...It's mostly the wealthy folks who do eat it.

Y/N: ...

His relief was cut short and soon after, his fingers pressed against his nose began to apply a stronger pressure on it, the skin quickly turning red.

Y/N: Of course because why bother trying to go for a full course meal when you can just chop off someone's legs?

The resident of the City observed his ranting and slowly opened his mouth to add yet another truth, only to be stopped by Angela. It was her own act of kindness towards a topic she could clearly tell the employee was not used to.

One deep breath was needed for him to clear his mind.

Y/N: Ok, I'm good. So, anything else?

Angela: ...

Roland: ...The Backstreets of District 23 is an exception.

Y/N: ...You gotta be fucking with me.

Roland: Sadly, I'm not. People over there are all about the ultimate flavor, using any means necessary. A bunch of nutjobs.

Angela: So each parts of the Backstreets have their unique characteristics?

Roland: Depends on the policies set by the Nest and the Wing. Though most of it is neglected anyway.

The machine took a peek at the librarian by her side, busy processing the information he was given.

Angela: Is human meat particularly delicious or anything?

Roland: Hell if I know. Never tried, never wanna.

He heaved a sigh, grimacing at the thought of smelling it. Just imagining getting hit in the back of the head before being boiled alive was enough to make him recoil slightly.

Roland: Those people grab people from the streets and cook them. Gourmets seem to think that cruelty add to the flavor...

His calm voice soon broke apart as he continued.

Roland: Even worse, they believe that cooking people alive and making them suffer as much as possible is key to perfecting taste.

The way the black haired guest explained it made it feel like a story you would tell to children if they don't behave but sadly, unlike a child's story, this was not part of someone's twisted imagination but rather the harsh reality of the City.

Angela: Humans eating humans. What a sight to behold.

The director solemnly followed with a grim expression, a face completely justified after what she just learned.

Y/N: ...Let's hope they don't turn you guys into pieces of meat.

A drop of sweat fell down the assistant's face as he looked at Roland, remembering that their arrival would soon follow. After exchanging a few words of encouragement, the trio went their own ways.

It was time to receive their guests.

...

...

Pierre: Mhm~ This is a brand new smell.

Jack: I don't think I like this scent.

The man standing next to the lady mumbled under his breath after taking a look at the entrance. Pierre, on the other hand, kept a smile on her face.

Pierre: Now, Jack, it's unfamiliarity like this that brings forth new ideas, you see?

Jack: If you say so.

His final words echoed around until a sharp snap broke the silence. With it, the silhouette of a certain pale librarian appeared. Behind her, her assistant slowly emerged from the stairs, keeping a close eyes on the guests.

He didn't want a repeat of Hook Office's attack.

Angela: Greetings dear guests. I am Angela, director and librarian of my role's namesake.

Y/N: Welcome to the Library. I'm Y/N, Angela's assistant. I hope your journey was without trouble.

Just like always, the man held a kind facade to the people who just arrived. It was the least he could do to greet them, even if they were cannibals. His feet slowly brought him closer to the sentient machine and stopped next to her.

The girl dressed in white let out a long "Woooow" as she carefully observed the both of them with her gaze.

Pierre: A wonderful-looking ingredient, with such a glossy appearance too...

Jack: She certainly looks like a fresh, top-grade ingredient on the outside, but... Pierre?

Pierre: Yea, I know. She's unfortunately not a human.

A single sentence, a single sentence was all it took for the mood to become sour. The welcoming smile on the short-haired director crumpled into pieces and only left behind a cold glare that the guests ignored, content with their observation.

This was followed with their gazes turning towards the assistant. Sensing their eyes on him, his own smile faltered a bit but with a small effort, he was able to maintain it. The last thing he wanted to do was to show them emotions beyond the one he gave them.

Jack: What about him, he looks to be around the same quality.

Pierre: Hmm~

The chef leaned closer and scanned the ex-agent with her cold eyes. This unexpected movement left the worker taken aback but before he could give himself some distance, she stepped away and revealed a playful grin.

Pierre: Not too bad if I say so myself.

Jack: ...

Pierre: Sadly, he's already rotten from the inside, the efforts are not worth it.

Y/N: Rotten?

Slightly curious about that comment, the man dropped the mask he was holding and inquired further. To his surprise, she went along with his question and placed a finger against her chin, looking for a way to explain what she said.

Pierre: Mhm~ Something is inside, a maggot wriggling. The clients will definitely throw a fit if we give 'em something already eaten by something else.

Unfortunately for the assistant, that was the most he was able to get out of her before Angela interposed herself. She was not going to allow a conversation like this one to continue.

Pierre: My apologies miss Angela~ I can get carried away sometimes.

She let out a small chuckle and shrugged off the stare of death she was receiving from her interlocutor. Done with this conversation, the pale librarian heaved a sigh and pointed towards the door leading them inside the Library.

Angela: May you find your book in this place.

Normally, this is where she would take her leave but she didn't. She remained firmly in place and watched the duo proceed further into the building. Pierre turned one last time and flashed them a smile.

Pierre: Until next time~

Finally, they both walked inside, leaving behind the AI and her puppet side by side. The former was completely silent and the latter was busy with his own thoughts.

Angela: You don't have to heed the words of the guests.

Y/N: Oh I know.

His short reply along with his nonchalant expression was the only thing she got in return, which made her feel like he wasn't listening in the slightest. It wouldn't the first time he pretended to pay attention to her.

Y/N: So, uh, are we just gonna stand here?

The AI grabbed the assistant's arm, causing his eyes to shift in her direction.

Y/N: I guess I'm coming along.

Before he could even complain, a snap tore through the air and with that, the entrance was now devoid of life.

...

...

Angela: Good work all of you.

Her greeting was sent towards the newcomers who approached Angela's room: Malkuth and Cereb. The both of them were carrying what remained of the defeated guests in their arms. The Sephirah placed what she held on a table and was promptly followed by her helper.

Cereb: That woman called me a snack and I honestly don't know if I should take it as a compliment.

Roland: Probably not.

Cereb: ...Aw, it's the first time a woman complimented me.

His shoulders dropped in disappointment. Beside him, Malkuth placed a hand on his back and gave him a warm smile to cheer him up.

While this little scene was happening, a certain machine was looking around the room before looking at her uninvited guest.

Angela: Where is Y/N?

Roland: Hm? He said he wanted to do something.

Angela: ...

"He wanted to do something", those words did not put her at ease. Just as she was about to perform her magic, however, the faint sound of footsteps caught her attention, making her lower her hand.

Cereb: Oh Y/N, you're back!

Y/N: "You're back", I just walked a few hallways away.

Soon, his face popped into the doorway, sending an unimpressed look towards the employee with red hair.

Y/N: Well, it's fine, the little walk was worth it in my opinion.

Both Malkuth and Angela tilted their heads, question marks popping above their heads. After fully revealing himself in the entrance, the one who was once called the captain of the Central Command team reached for something and pulled them into view.

Next to him was a completely stressed out Morgan, hiding her flushed face behind her long and unkept hair and wearing Pierre's outfit. The few spots where her head could be seen, a bright red was present.

Y/N: I thought it would look good on her so I went to show it to her. I may have also used that opportunity to bring her out but that's a detail!

Cereb: Oh, Morgan!

Like a dog seeing a new face, the assistant working on the Floor of History greeted the girl under Roland's orders with all of his energy. This simply made her more embarrassed.

Morgan: ...

Y/N: Remember, one step at a time.

His words were whispered in her ears as an encouragement before his eyes turned back to the group. A short paused followed afterwards.

Morgan: ...Hi.

But in the end, the girl was able to raise her voice enough to give the man a greeting, who immediately replied with his.

In the back, Angela was not pleased in the slightest and her stare proved said emotion. Roland was able to sense the bad aura coming out of her and stepped away for his own safety.

Thankfully, nothing occured but her bad mood persisted for the rest of the day. When questioned, she simply denied it with her usual attitude.