I’m not sure where I’m going– this place is an endless industrial maze of greys which blur together as I scramble to find an exit. The soles of my feet ache as I run against the cold, hard tiles; the sound of my footsteps being mimicked by those of the Advocates that chase me from behind. 

One of them gets close, reaching for my arm, but I push the tip of the taser to their hand and zap them to keep my distance. My chest begins to tighten the longer I run, so I savour each breath like it’s my last. Giving into my inevitable fate is so tempting, but I can’t lose hope. I need to fight back.

“693–! Stop, now!” A familiar voice shouts from the halls behind me. When I look back, Miles’ terrifying figure merges with the shadows as the red alarm lights flare, making his glowing eyes and smile the only thing visible in the darkness surrounding him. He chases me with inhuman speed, his large, frantic steps echoing in the halls. 

I cry out in fear, trying to propel myself further with my weakening legs; but Miles only gets closer by the second– in fact, he is so fast that the friction of his metallic tail hitting the wall makes a few sparks fly in my direction. He is dangerously close. I turn a corner in an attempt to confuse him, running through a line of caution tape blocking one of the stairwells.

“Dammit, Skyler, STOP–!”

A sharp pain shoots up from my foot to my leg, which gives out and causes me to stumble forward to the floor.

“Fuck, fuck…” I mutter to myself as I crawl away, dragging my aching foot behind me. Several sets of footsteps quickly catch up and close in on me. When I turn around, I see Miles and the Advocates blocking the opening. There is no escape. In my panic, I shakily point the taser in their direction, inciting a worried reaction from Miles.

“Skyler… Don’t do this.” He urges as the Advocates approach his side to apprehend me. Upon instinct, I point the taser directly to my throat, threatening them with a look of .

“D-Don’t get any closer…! I’ll do it!” I shout. Miles holds a hand up to stop the Advocates, shooting them a stern look.

“EVERYONE— BACK OFF, NOW! ” He bellows. “Stay back, or there will be consequences.” Upon his command, the Advocates back off, returning to their work and shutting off the alarms. Miles looks down at me, holding his hands up in surrender as his tone softens. “Put the taser down, Skyler. Let’s talk about this.”

My adrenaline fades, the pain in my foot starting to become more severe while my ear injuries make the room spin. Tears well up in my eyes and I hesitantly drop the taser to the floor, watching him cautiously approach, kneeling down to my level and pushing the taser aside. His eyes widen as his gaze shifts from the floor to my foot.

“Fuckin’ hell… You ran right into the reconstruction zone.” He mutters, his tail flicking to the side with frustration. I scoot away from him, wincing at the pain that shoots up my leg. He reaches out in an attempt to stop me, his smile shrinking slightly. “Hang on– don’t move your foot… You’re hurt.”

I let out a shudder as I look down in front of me. A small trail of blood pools from my right foot, though I can’t see the exact source. Miles gently holds my foot up with his claws, inspecting it with unease.

“I-Is… Is it bad…?” My voice trembles with fear as I look up at his crumbling stoic expression.

“Well… It’s certainly not good, that’s for sure.” He replies, observing the blood trickling from my foot onto the floor. “There’s a nail stuck in your foot. We need to get it out and stitch it up before you get an infection.”

“W-WHAT?!” I cry out, instinctively grabbing my foot and pulling it close. The pain shoots up my leg again, warm, crimson blood staining my fingertips.

“Don’t touch it–! You’ll make it worse.” He pulls my hands from my foot, cradling it protectively as his tail swishes with worry. “It’s bleeding enough… Just stay still, alright?”

Without hesitation, Miles scoops me into his arms bridal style and carefully stands up, carrying me to one of the elevators.

“W-What are you–”

“I’m carrying you to the Infirmary. That’s where we need to go to get your foot treated.” He explains, holding me steadily as he waits for the door to open. “I’ve got you… It’s okay.”

Nothing comes out when I open my mouth to protest, so I stay quiet, burying my face into his chest. 

I may not like or trust him, but he definitely seems to want to protect me… Maybe he isn’t so bad after all– who knows what he’s endured here?

“Hey, hey. Try to calm down, you’re okay now.” He notices my anxious expression and exchanges a look of sympathy as the elevator doors open, stepping inside. “Just… look at me, and nothing else.”

I shut my eyes in response to his attempt to soothe me, listening to the quiet hum of the elevator as it goes up to the next floor. The doors open to an infirmary coated in the colour white, and Miles calls for an Advocate to find a room. The Advocate scrambles out of their seat in fear of his authority, quickly coming back to guide us to a small room with a hospital bed and vital monitors.

As I stare at the tiles on the ceiling, the sounds of talking, monitors, and footsteps blur together until Miles’ voice outside the room breaks me from my dissociation.

“Make it quick. This patient is of top priority and in need of immediate care.” He demands, his expression stoic.

Two Advocates file in with equipment, one of the two clamping a pulse oximeter around my finger while the other props my foot up. The monitor beside me beeps rapidly as my heart rate quickens with anxiety. My eyes dart frantically around the room, struggling to choose a subject to focus on– between the Advocates, the CCTV camera, and the pain in my foot, my panic rises to an unbearable point.

“S-Stop–! Don’t touch me–!” I shout, trying to scramble away from the Advocate who jabs a needle into the bridge of my foot. The other Advocate firmly grabs my arm, holding me in place. Miles looks down at me, his expression shifting to one of visible worry.

“Hey, hey… Stop struggling. I need you to stay still. They can’t hurt you, I won’t let them. I promise.”

“T-They’re gonna kill me…!” I shout fearfully, tears stinging the corners of my eyes as I swat the Advocate’s hand away. They roughly pin my arms to my sides and eye the restraints on the bed, their smile twitching with annoyance.

“Hey! Carefully! Quit restraining them like that!” Miles shouts, giving a warning hiss and shoving the Advocate aside. He offers his hand for me to hold, and after a moment of hesitation, I take it. His claws gently wrap around my cold, shaky hand. He turns his head and nods to the Advocate, and they pull the nail from my foot with a swift motion, inciting a pained cry which I muffle with my hand.

Miles looks down at me with sympathy, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb in a comforting manner as they painstakingly stitch up the bottom of my foot. I look down at the long, bloodied nail which sits in a plastic dish, but Miles steps in front of my view to distract me.

“Just focus on me, it’s almost over.” He says, looking down at my ankle to redirect my attention to something else. “Did you do this tattoo yourself?”

“…Y-Yeah. Stick n’ poke.”

“That’s quite impressive. I don’t think I could stomach a tattoo, let alone one done that way.” He says, watching the Advocates like a hawk as he distracts me with conversation. They step out of the room after bandaging my foot, leaving me alone with him.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound filling the room being the quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights until Miles speaks up.

“I swear I will do everything in my power to figure out why this happened… Someone went behind my back.” He awkwardly puts his claws to his side, unsure how to comfort me further. “Get some rest… I’ll check up on you in the morning, okay?”

I scratch my neck and give him a quiet nod, looking away to hide the tears threatening to fall. He pauses, opening his mouth to speak, but he hesitates, turning around to leave the room.

When I’m left alone, my composure breaks and I curl up into a ball to cry. Between the sounds of my sudden, violent sobs, I hear Miles shout from a distance: 

“WHO AUTHORISED THIS TREATMENT?!”