06-10-2017, 07:19 PM
When Isaac recovered from his shock-induced unconsciousness, he was sinking.
The blue tri-lights on his helmet switched on, lighting up the world. He jerked his head around, the red liquid surrounding him, resisting him with every twist and turn of the body. He glanced down to the torso of his RIG, a green hologram projecting out of it. A number was on it: 120.1 seconds.
His eyes widened in realization. He immediately sucked in a breath of air.
He floated around the blood-covered ocean, flinging his arms in every direction to slow his steady descent into the abyss below him. Darkness consumed him, snuffing out the blue light of his helmet. He tried to swim only for the blood ocean to force him down. He spun around and around, his stomach churning, and by the time he stopped he couldn’t tell what was up and down and left and right and forwards and backwards anymore. The number on the hologram ticked, with each second shaved off producing an ear-splitting bell inside his suit. 100. 90. 80. 70. 60.
He could feel his heartbeat in his head, pounding, throbbing. The force of the ocean tugged him downwards still into the nothingness all around him. It was like floating in space, only in space one could reverse their path with enough force in the opposite direction. But here, the void was its own being with it's own minds and ideas, and all of them were desperate to drown him within its waters.
50. 40. 30.
The inside of his suit felt warm. His heart beat faster as he gasped and sucked in as much breath as he could. But he kept swimming. Even as the current of the abyss, of the void, of the blood space pushed him lower and lower to drown him, he kept on swimming.
20. 10.
His heart was about to burst out of his chest. His arms froze in place, pained, unable to resist the currents of the blood ocean. With one last breath, he closed his eyes, waiting for the sweet release of death to take him away.
He felt the water shoot upwards. He opened his eyes.
All around him, the blood water evaporated, shooting upwards into the sky. The darkness went away, replaced by a bright, white light. He could see the glow of his tri-lights as they reflected off of the droplets and the mist they created. He just whirled his head around, his breath slowly returning to him, as he stayed there, suspended in the upstream.
Once the last of the blood ocean went away, he plummeted back down again. It was only then did he manage to find enough breath to scream.
He landed with a thud. Pain surged through his body as he groaned and swung himself onto his back. He stared up into the sky, air decompressing out of his suit and allowing the atmosphere around him to slip inside. He felt weak and tired, the suit around him weighing him down and keeping him locked to the ground. He laid there for a long time, trying to regain his breath.
He looked around. The blood-ocean void had been replaced by a desert of white. The sky, the ground, everything was white. There wasn’t anything else there. Just a desolate wasteland of nothing.
He had considered the Necromorph outbreak back on the Ishimura to be the most horrific, strangest thing he had ever seen. But this? This took the cake.
He eventually found the strength to push himself back onto his feet. He lifted his hand to cradle his head, only to pause.
Even after the Ishimura, he couldn’t help but shiver whenever he saw blood. He looked down. He was absolutely covered in the stuff, to the point where the original grey color of his suit had disappeared entirely. He glanced back. Footsteps trailed him from the pool that he had left behind when he had landed.
His mind went back to the void. To the feeling of his lungs collapsing as his oxygen slowly dissipated. To the creaking of his suit as it collapsed inward, threatening to bury him in the RIG that had kept him alive through everything that came before it. To the uncontrollable currents, pushing him around and sending him down, down, down, into an inescapable darkness of which that would consume him.
He could see static.
His breathing ragged and quick, he ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could. It didn’t matter where he was going, but he had to get as far away from the blood as possible. Sweat poured down his face, his legs pumped with adrenaline as he fled into the bright lights of white all around him.
The blue tri-lights on his helmet switched on, lighting up the world. He jerked his head around, the red liquid surrounding him, resisting him with every twist and turn of the body. He glanced down to the torso of his RIG, a green hologram projecting out of it. A number was on it: 120.1 seconds.
His eyes widened in realization. He immediately sucked in a breath of air.
He floated around the blood-covered ocean, flinging his arms in every direction to slow his steady descent into the abyss below him. Darkness consumed him, snuffing out the blue light of his helmet. He tried to swim only for the blood ocean to force him down. He spun around and around, his stomach churning, and by the time he stopped he couldn’t tell what was up and down and left and right and forwards and backwards anymore. The number on the hologram ticked, with each second shaved off producing an ear-splitting bell inside his suit. 100. 90. 80. 70. 60.
He could feel his heartbeat in his head, pounding, throbbing. The force of the ocean tugged him downwards still into the nothingness all around him. It was like floating in space, only in space one could reverse their path with enough force in the opposite direction. But here, the void was its own being with it's own minds and ideas, and all of them were desperate to drown him within its waters.
50. 40. 30.
The inside of his suit felt warm. His heart beat faster as he gasped and sucked in as much breath as he could. But he kept swimming. Even as the current of the abyss, of the void, of the blood space pushed him lower and lower to drown him, he kept on swimming.
20. 10.
His heart was about to burst out of his chest. His arms froze in place, pained, unable to resist the currents of the blood ocean. With one last breath, he closed his eyes, waiting for the sweet release of death to take him away.
He felt the water shoot upwards. He opened his eyes.
All around him, the blood water evaporated, shooting upwards into the sky. The darkness went away, replaced by a bright, white light. He could see the glow of his tri-lights as they reflected off of the droplets and the mist they created. He just whirled his head around, his breath slowly returning to him, as he stayed there, suspended in the upstream.
Once the last of the blood ocean went away, he plummeted back down again. It was only then did he manage to find enough breath to scream.
He landed with a thud. Pain surged through his body as he groaned and swung himself onto his back. He stared up into the sky, air decompressing out of his suit and allowing the atmosphere around him to slip inside. He felt weak and tired, the suit around him weighing him down and keeping him locked to the ground. He laid there for a long time, trying to regain his breath.
He looked around. The blood-ocean void had been replaced by a desert of white. The sky, the ground, everything was white. There wasn’t anything else there. Just a desolate wasteland of nothing.
He had considered the Necromorph outbreak back on the Ishimura to be the most horrific, strangest thing he had ever seen. But this? This took the cake.
He eventually found the strength to push himself back onto his feet. He lifted his hand to cradle his head, only to pause.
Even after the Ishimura, he couldn’t help but shiver whenever he saw blood. He looked down. He was absolutely covered in the stuff, to the point where the original grey color of his suit had disappeared entirely. He glanced back. Footsteps trailed him from the pool that he had left behind when he had landed.
His mind went back to the void. To the feeling of his lungs collapsing as his oxygen slowly dissipated. To the creaking of his suit as it collapsed inward, threatening to bury him in the RIG that had kept him alive through everything that came before it. To the uncontrollable currents, pushing him around and sending him down, down, down, into an inescapable darkness of which that would consume him.
He could see static.
His breathing ragged and quick, he ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could. It didn’t matter where he was going, but he had to get as far away from the blood as possible. Sweat poured down his face, his legs pumped with adrenaline as he fled into the bright lights of white all around him.
C&C Thread
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New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
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