Chapter Text

TRESPASSER

The blaring drone of an alarm is what greeted him.

It was an assault on his mind. Stirring, no, commanding him to awaken. When he finally caved, prying open his eyes, he was greeted to an impossibly blurry sight. Panic erupted, and the Archeops’ wings flapped about searching for his glasses. Carefully, not to shatter them if they were nearby. Thankfully, they were laying on the ground, just a wingspan from himself. Malark cautiously placed them back on.

He definitely wasn't where he last slept.

The environment was dim and sterile. Judging by the lack of windows, he was either deep within a large building or meters underground. The walls were of pale concrete underlined by small rectangular panels connecting it to the metal floor. The distinct odor of rusty iron permeated the air. Malark identified it as blood, though he couldn't pinpoint its source other than that.

From the looks of things, this was merely some kind of corner hallway. Apart from a single computer rack, it was barren.

Malark tried to remember how he could've gotten here. He went to sleep after hours of preliminary research on a job his team had recently taken on. It was a standard affair, so standard that one of his teammates complained about it. Nothing involving underground buildings. Especially not whatever this place is.

It's obvious he wasn't abducted, either. Why abduct someone and leave them in the middle of a near empty room? Plus, his satchel was with him. Unfortunately, it was mostly empty - he had given what little he was carrying to a teammate. The only things left was a wrapped chunk of berry pie and a large bottle of juice.

“Hello?” Malark called out, albeit apprehensively. Sure, he didn't believe that he had been kidnapped, but he still had no idea where he was. The lack of a response did nothing to alleviate that. Still, it spurred him to start looking around.

The door closest to him was primarily made of glass. There was no apparent handle. It must have been automatic, but it remained closed. The other door, primarily metal with a small window, opened just fine, if violently. The new room was smaller, and the scent of blood grew more intense. The source was obvious. A large pool of the stuff had puddled around an overturned desk chair. There wasn't a body or anything, and Malark hoped that meant whomever the blood belonged to was okay.

The desk itself had an older computer set-up attached to it, though it was clearly fried. A few filing cabinets were overturned, with three of them being used to barricade another door on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, the siren continued blaring.

Okay. Maybe he was in a locked area.

Malark stared at the blood pool for longer than he'd like to admit. He didn't know the deep intricacies of Pokémon biology, but it was a lot of blood. It probably belonged to a larger Pokémon, then, though other than that he was clueless.

Finally prying himself away, the Archeops got lower to the ground, looking under the desk for anything useful. Nothing apart from a few papers. He paused before taking one. Maybe it could shed light on where he was.

The paper, summarized, was a report on some kind of experiment. The details of said experiment were completely lost to Malark. Something about crystals and lasers. He considered himself decently smart, but he wasn't a scientist. He didn't even recognize half of these phrases. It didn't matter anyways - it was enough to convey that this was a research facility - Black Mesa, apparently.

Figuring the other papers would be more of the same, Malark double checked the room to make sure there wasn't anything he missed. Sure enough, there was a tool kit tucked away behind a potted plant. It had been turned on its side, its contents spilled out. More specifically, its sole remaining content - a large socket wrench.

Score.

This was definitely built for more bipedal Pokémon, but Malark's wings were dexterous enough to let him grasp it. In fact, thinking about it, a lot of this place seemed built for bipeds. Not surprising. Integrating every bit of technology for every possible body type is “too expensive” and “very difficult.”

He huffed at that thought. Stupid argument, but even dumber that he'd be thinking of it right now.

The Archeops swiftly made his way back to the room he had awoken in. The glass door still didn't react to his presence. Carefully, he tapped one of the lower panels with the wrench in increasingly heavy swings, until… crack!

He couldn't help but smile a bit.

Malark reeled back, then tossed the socket wrench at the glass. It instantly shattered on impact, sending small shards of sharpened sand spiralling through the air. The wrench itself landed on the other side. The Archeops brought himself to the ground, carefully brushing the glass with his wings. The window still had extra shards - Malark bashed it with the side of his bag before crawling through the open space. Luckily, nothing decided to embed itself into his flesh.

Getting back to his feet, he decided to pick the wrench back up. It was useful once, maybe it'll be useful again later.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He paused, awaiting a response. Only the blaring sound continued. No one was nearby. His feathers ruffled, and he decided to continue moving. There had to be another Pokémon around here somewhere.

Stumbling into another door, this one simply slid up on its own. It seemed to lead into yet another corridor, though unlike the previous, this one actually connected to multiple rooms. One on the left, one on the right, and another on the other side. He chose the left one first - a horrid stench originated from the right room.

It was in much better shape than the other areas he'd seen thus far. A bunch of desks lined the walls with dividers blocking them off from a whiteboard. Scribbled onto it were various notations and equations, none of which Malark understood.

Most importantly however was an active computer. He wasn't that skilled in how these things operated, but he knew enough. It was already logged in, showcasing a spreadsheet of some kind. The time in the corner read 12:52 PM. May 17th, 2004.

2004? Had he… travelled in time, somehow?

A sudden noise drew his attention away from the monitor. It was coming from the foul-smelling room. The Archeops waited, and heard it again. Something falling over. Leaving the computer and its implications behind, Malark crept over to the source of the sound. The door slid open, the putrid scent growing more pungent as a result.

A smear of blood was drawn from the door all the way to an overturned filing cabinet. Behind it was… something. It looked to be a Pokémon, but he'd never seen anything like it. A smooth, bipedal body, fur on top of the oval head. He couldn't make out the ears, nor its face from this angle.

Sure, he didn't know EVERY Pokémon species by memory, but he was pretty sure this wasn't one of them. The closest comparison in his mind was a Machoke, maybe. A very deformed Machoke. In either case, they were still on the ground, wearing some kind of white robes - assuming those were garments, not biological.

Snapping out of it, Malark ran to their aid. They were bathed in a pool of blood, arms limp at the sides. Turning them over slightly, their face was very flat, pale white skin. The better comparison was a Medicham, at least when it came to the head. The Archeops tugged at their shoulder, but there was no response.

The body was covered in numerous deep lacerations. It tore into the coat and into their flesh. It didn't take long for Malark to realize they were dead. His breath left his body too early.

He's dreaming. He's asleep, and this is some twisted nightmare. There's no other explanation. It can't be real. It can't be.

There was that sound again. Something falling over. Malark whipped in its direction. There sat something else terribly strange - it again did not resemble any Pokémon he knew. A Paras, maybe, as it shared some of those traits. It was a pallid form of tan, standing on four small claw-like appendages. The hind claws were far smaller than the two front claws, both of which were raised ever slightly off the ground. The thing was miniscule in comparison to himself. Notably, it lacked any visible eyes - or any kind of sensory organ for that matter.

For a moment, the Archeops just stared, unsure if it was aware of his presence. Suddenly, it leapt at him - Malark jumped to the right, the thing barely missing him. Still, that didn't deter it, as it spun around and tried again. This time, it managed to scrape his leg. The ‘legs’ pierced into him like knives against bread. Malark shrieked in pain, batting the small beast away with the wrench. It flew into the wall, sliding down to the ground.

Malark glanced down at the wrench. It was slightly tinted by the creature's blood - a repulsive, putrid yellow. He was just happy it was odorless, but it wasn't any scent that disgusted him. It was the presence of blood in the first place. He - he hadn't meant to hit it that hard. He was trying to get it away, not… hurt it.

Finally, he looked to where the thing had impacted. It was obscured by a fallen filing cabinet. Some primal part of him urged the idea of just running. But the kinder part of his mind was worried for his attacker, and so the avian proceeded to the cabinet.

The moment he peeked over it, the crab thing pounced towards his beak, latching onto it. Its legs swung into Malark's maw, weakly piercing the flesh. His resulting screech was muffled by its carapace - and in return, the Archeops dug his claws into the monster's flesh. He felt himself stumble back into a wall, and used it as a grounding to pry the creature off. In spite of its size, it was heavy and unyielding.

When he did rip it off, Malark tossed it onto the ground, action coupled with copious coughs and sputters. Desperately adjusting his tilted glasses let him see it rearing back to try again. Further, it allowed him to spot the fallen tool brushing against a splattered chair.

Malark raised the wrench and swung it down right as the creature jumped. The tool connected with a fleshy squishing sound as it dug into the monster's body. It let out a wail of pain, but only for a brief moment before it cut off. Malark didn't dare look at the result of his handiwork. He knew it was dead.

Dead. He killed it. Yes, it was trying to kill him but… he still killed another living thing. The realization started to settle in as he stumbled back and slumped to the floor. Somehow, he kept the contents of his stomach from expelling.

He had to find a way out of here. He could worry about what he just did later.

Or so he hoped.

The pain in his leg flared up. He was bleeding. Not profusely, but still worryingly so. The Archeops turned back to the body on the ground. More specifically, their robes. Malark was bleeding, and he didn't have anything else that could staunch it even slightly.

“...I'm… I'm really sorry, I…”

Malark closed his eyes, limping over to the corpse. His claws were sharp enough to act as makeshift scissors - something he'd learned by accident in the past. The robes cut apart easily, and soon enough, he had a substitute rag which he swathed around the wound. It wouldn't stop the bleeding completely but it was good enough for now.

It left him with the time to actually breathe. So much just happened in the past minute and every detail was swirling in his mind. Forefront was still the body in front of him. He couldn't just leave them here. The Archeops stared at the bloodied body, unsure of what to do. His eyes trailed over a nametag - adjusting his glasses and leaning in closer, he read their name.

Sinclair.

Carefully, he heaved the corpse upright, setting it into a more comfortable position. It was the least he could do for them. No one deserved to just… lie there like that. With one last inhale, Malark rose to his feet and left the room behind, back into the hallway from before.

Wincing with every step, Malark slowly stepped further down the sterile blinking hallway. Clutching the wrench tighter did nothing to ease the palpable tension. Even the simple act of rounding the corner was halted by the intense sensation of anxiety. Dread. That he'd see another of those strange… crab things.

When he finally worked up the courage, he saw the hallway came to an abrupt drop. A thin elevator shaft, missing both doors and elevator. Not a very good sign, but at least it was a potential way up. Malark had surmised that he was underground, but an elevator could maybe prove it. And also let him out of here.

That part was considerably more important.

Malark had just started approaching the opened doors when something burst from behind him. He couldn't actually describe the sound properly. It was like a crackle or pop of pure energy, but even that didn't quite convey it.

What the noise brought with it was somehow even more bizarre.

This new creature stood on three legs. Two in the front, one in the rear. It was coloured a noticeable yellow, with ridges underlined by stripes of an incandescent blue. In place of any snout or features otherwise was a vast collection of eyes, much like that of some bugs. Absent any tail, it stretched and raised itself on its one hind leg to scan the environment, noticing the gawking Archeops.

Almost excitedly, this new many eyed being hopped down to all threes before racing closer to Malark. In all honesty, it seemed a bit cute, built with the same boundless energy of a young Lillipup or some mon like it. Maybe he could-

The Archeops wasn't able to finish the thought before a blaring, incomprehensible whirring flooded the hallway. A noise so loud and irritating that his entire body vibrated in pain. Rather, the raw vibrations alone were painful. Staggering backwards, Malark flailed, trying to concentrate his aura for a moment. There was no way he could get up close to this thing.

Malark used Rock Slide!

The rocks, while numerous, were still small in size - they pelted the many-eyed beast from above. To his astonishment and horror, however, the creature seemed genuinely wounded by the attack. Not in the typical way one feels after getting hit with aura like that. No, it cried out in genuine, physical pain. Injured, it scampered away, sparing the Archeops the guilt of having to kill something else.

Unfortunately, it then left him with the thought of how it could possibly have taken physical damage from an aura attack. Sure, having your aura drained completely can be physically harmful, but it was a single attack. It was injured the moment the rocks impacted its body.

This place didn't make sense.

He didn't want to ponder that for much longer, and though the sound had hurt, he didn't think he was wounded. Thus, Malark turned back to the elevator shaft. It extended downwards for a few meters, as it did upwards.

Malark sat the wrench in his bag. He never quite understood the magic behind storage units like this. They weren't infinite, but they could hold a considerably higher number of things than they should be able to. Something about pocket space, maybe. In either case, he made sure it was strapped in place and that his glasses were steady before kicking his feet off the ground.

Flapping his wings in such a tight space was disorienting. The Archeops had only ever flown in wide open spaces before. He never considered how difficult it would be to keep yourself still while ascending at the same time. Malark climbed past the first set of doors, stopping at the second which gave way to an open landing. Flying in such a cramped environment wasn't ideal. He'd like to avoid potentially ramming into something if he can help it.

Instead of the empty hallway, this floor's elevator landed into a break room of sorts. It was in shockingly decent condition compared to everything else he'd seen. Chairs weren't overturned, the tables were neatly set. The concern came from the metallic taste in the air that emanated from behind a corner. Other than that, it was fine.

All that to say it was a place Malark felt comfortable resting at. He stepped over to one of the chairs, noting none of them had accommodations for tails. Or even non-bipeds to begin with. Typical. The chairs were still usable, he just had to turn them to their side. Hopping up and fluffing himself out, he placed his bag onto the table where he pulled out the wrench. It was still stained in the blood of that… thing.

The table he chose had a stray can still resting there. It was even unopened and cold. No complaints from him. Malark cracked open the can, perched it above his maw, and downed as much as he could in one gulp. It had a strange, pulpy citrus flavour. Sparky, if that made sense.

This felt wrong. He was drinking some weird juice he found to ignore what's happened to him in the past half an hour. The saddest part is that it wasn't even working. How could he just… not acknowledge any of this? What was wrong with him? He killed something. It didn't matter if it was going to kill him, he still killed it, splattered it against the ground. Its sickly blood stained splotches of teal fluff. Like the scar beneath the white rag, its trail of red inking down to his feet and blotting his feathers.

Maybe this was just his own way of coping with it. Not that it was doing him any good.

Malark thought about just staying put. Surely there must be tons of teams more adept than he was en route to this facility. They were probably already here, even. But he'd have a better chance of meeting up with them if he kept moving, wouldn't he? Perhaps they just got here, and he was too deep into the complex.

That settled it. The avian downed the rest of the liquid, gently setting it aside, and hopped back to his feet. He stretched out his wings, leg, tail, and his entire frame. Who knows how big this place is, or what other things he'd run into.

Before he could make any progress, a distinct sound rang down the hall and into the cafeteria. Malark froze, listening intently. It echoed again, a fair bit clearer, at least, enough so for him to identify it. Screaming. Someone was nearby. Someone was alive.

Someone needed help.

Without hesitating, Malark flipped his bag over his shoulder, picked up the socket wrench, and took off in the direction of the scream.

He didn't notice the figure watching him.