The white room and floor was all he saw nowadays. There were no windows, there was only a single bright-light and a iron door. He couldn't even tell what time of day it was, only thing he could tell was that the light would turn off, and someone would call out 'lights out!' So he assumed that this was night-time The bucket in the corner of the room sat still nearly filled with black ink, the same black ink that turned his arms and legs a black color. The same black ink that small eye's that appeared on his arms and legs.

The exact same black ink that was the reason he was even here. This.... wasn't even a hospital, this in his mind was hell. The nurses and docters didn't actually help the infected patients. They were more likely to experiment on the infected rather then help them.

He suddenly clutched his head and  started screaming, it sounded like multiple voices at once, and it started some sort of demented chain reaction. All nearby infected started  going into there terminal forms.
Most of them that weren't attacking the personal were the ones that began sinking through the cracks. Including the octoling that triggered it.

He emerged in an underground lab like area,  he found that he liked the dark now it was  rather..... soothing. It was also warmer then the cold floors of his hospital room, but what surprised him mostly was the large glass container in the near pitch-black room. And the figure that stared at him all around him were the various terminal stage  patients, but for some reason he wasn't afraid.

" its been awhile since i, or rather since we had a visitor.  I was sure we had beed forgotten after so long."

He had now gotten a good look of the being within the container, they were tall and wore what looked like a patients  hospital gown. But it was stained in blank ink. The being 'hair' was so long it touch the floor and appeared to drag behind it.  It had three red eyes, the rest hidden behind the hair on the other side of it's face. Its hands were black and the black ink appeared to drip from it's fingertips.

" what is your name young one?"

He didn't have a true name,  the only name he did have was the name he was given back at the hospital.

" subject twelve"

Just then a long black inky tendril wrapped itself around his waist, and brought him closer to glass face to face with the being behind the glass.

" subject twelve ~ what a lovely name sweetheart~ a lovely name for a soldier"  but subject  twelve didn't appear to recognize the praise he suddenly started laughing, kicked his legs wildly  as he did.