Chapter Text
Just as you hit save on your document, the power goes out. Groans and surprised shrieks echo through the darkness of the office building as you fumble for your phone. Flashlights go on one by one as you get to your feet.
“Y/N!” your boss barks from nearby. He’s an older man, well into his 50s, and you barely manage to catch the flashlight he tosses in your direction. “Did you manage to save your work?”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, flicking the light on. There aren’t any windows this deep into the building, and you listen for the telltale sound of thunder, but all you hear is the quiet chatter of your coworkers. “Was it supposed to storm today?”
“Hmm?” your boss pauses. “I don’t think so. Wasn’t on the forecast. Never mind that—go and check everyone’s status. Jeez, right before the deadline.”
You turn to follow his directions, nearly tripping over a bag on the floor, when a scream echoes through the room. You follow everyone’s gaze to the hallway, thinking that it was unprofessional to pull pranks on each other, but you stop as another scream rips through the air. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you start to get the feeling it isn’t another harmless prank.
You quickly check your phone. No service.
“Sir,” you call out, reaching for your boss. Your fingers touch his shoulder. “I don’t think—“
You can’t even finish your sentence before the doors to the hallway burst open and someone is stumbling through. Flashlights swing around, illuminating the figure, and someone screams when you realize they’re covered in blood.
“We need to get out of here,” you quickly say to your boss, but his face is pale and he stands unresponsive. Your pulse is going a mile a minute. “Sir!”
He just stands open mouthed. With a noise of frustration you let go of him.
A crackling noise echoes through the room, like the static of a loudspeaker, and an androgynous voice that sounds like an automatic machine message booms through the office. “I have cut off all communications and electricity. Do not attempt to leave, or you will be killed. I have come for the human with the strong soul. Human, surrender yourself.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then the room erupts into chaos. There’s more screaming from the hallways, and your coworkers begin to make a mad scramble for the elevator. It’s so loud, and it’s all you can do to reach for your boss again.
“Sir,” you croak, and this time he sees you. “We have to call the police or something. They’ll—“
You feel something, like a tug inside your body, and your heart palpitates so harshly you double over, coughing as it feels like your heart bursts. Your boss makes a slow grab for you, but you collapse to the floor, gasping. The chill that runs down your spine turns to fire, panic crawling up your throat.
“I have located the human. Do not interfere,” the voice says over the loudspeaker, and you have a sinking suspicion it’s responsible for the tug on your body.
Your boss grabs you by the shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Ugh,” you gag, reaching out to clutch the desk next to you. “I’m—I’m fine.”
“Can you get up?” he asks. There’s sweat pouring down his face, and you’re honestly surprised he’s still here. “We need to leave, now.”
A shriek reverberates into the office, hair raising, the kind you hear in horror movies. Then another scream, and another, and then someone shouts, “Get away from m-AGGGGGHHHHH!”
The crowd of people by the door start to shriek, backing away so quickly chairs fall on the ground, desks creak as they’re shoved out of the way. Phones drop to the floor, flashlights still on. More screams, and then you see the blood.
The hallway is painted with it, mangled bodies on the floor. In the doorway is a robot, glistening scarlet and black, all metal. It has a head but no face, just a perfectly smooth surface. The sight of it is enough to send your coworkers into hysterics, and in the seconds you and your boss are the only ones close to the door.
“Oh my god,” your boss mutters, face white and eyes wide. “The-the hall...”
“Let’s go,” you say quickly, trying to stand, but your legs are still weak and your boss is slack with shock.
“Human,” the machine says in that same crackling, booming voice. It has a head but no facial features, every part of its body worn smooth, and it’s impossible to tell who it’s talking to. “Do not resist.”
“Come on,” you plead with your boss.
“They’re—“ he stutters, and then doubles over to puke.
With a heavy stomp, the machine drags itself closer, closer to where you struggle to stand. It reaches out, fingers made of interlacing pieces of metal, and you try to speed up, but you’re running out of time.
You manage to pull yourself to your feet, but the machine makes a yanking motion with its hand and your body is tugged again and you’re falling, gasping for air.
It’s right next to you now, still dripping blood. “Your soul... my calculations predict an estimated 308% jump in functionality.”
You don’t know what it’s talking about, and you don’t care. Your vision swims with spots, you can’t take in enough air, it’s about to get you, your boss— All you can do is gasp and watch through blurred vision as it reaches down to grab the collar of your shirt.
“Woah there,” says a new voice, light with amusement, and suddenly the machine is no longer in front of you. You feel something like a light breeze, and the tugging on your body is gone. A face enters your field of vision, a man not much older than you with impossibly white hair. He wears sunglasses, hiding his eyes but not the small smile that spreads over his lips. “Still alive?”
You take in a deep breath, air flooding your lungs, and then break into a coughing fit.
“Uh oh,” the man says, gripping the sleeve of your shirt and pulling you into a sitting position. “Deep breaths, deep breaths.”
“A jujutsu sorcerer?” the machine asks from across the room. It crouches next to the wall, a terrified crowd of your coworkers at its back, but it pays them no mind. “Communication was cut off.”
“Hmm?” the man hums, standing and leaving you to hold yourself up. “And who’s our friend here?”
“I’ve come for the human,” the machine replied, still wary.
“You don’t look like the others, do you?” the man asks, nonchalant despite the blood and carnage he must have encountered in the hallway. You find it somewhat disturbing that he can still smile in front of that thing. “Tell me, what are you supposed to represent?”
“Humanity’s fear of machines and artificial intelligence,” the machine says.
“Interesting. And you’re after this young man, here?” the man asks, continuing to smile, hands in his pockets.
After me? You manage to breath without coughing, reaching for your boss who slumps, unconscious, against the desk behind you.
“Yes. His soul is extremely powerful. Initial data predicts incorporation will increase functionality by—“
“Soul?” the white-haired man interrupts, glancing back at you over the tops of his sunglasses, and you stop breathing when his eyes meet yours. They’re a clear ice blue, an impossible color amongst humans, almost silver. You feel cut to the core, like he can see straight through you. “Well, this is a question for Shoko. Conversation over, then.”
“I will take the human—“
“Hmm?” The man turns back to the machine. “And how’re you going to do that?”
“I will kill you,” the machine tells him, but even the automated voice is starting to lose confidence.
“Wait,” you croak, drawing the white-haired man’s attention, “what’re you going to do?”
“Interested?” he asks, leaning down as it to let you hear him better. “Well, since you seem to be involved, I’ll give you a front row seat.”
“Huh?” is all you have time to say before his hands are under your armpits and he’s placing you on top of the desk, patting the top of your head once before turning to face the machine.
“Now then,” he says, using such a relaxed tone of voice that you almost can’t believe he was just threatened, “shall we get started? I’m in a bit of a hurry, so let’s make this quick.”
The machine doesn’t even have a chance to respond. So fast that your eyes can’t follow, the man is in front of it, and then the machine is lying in a broken heap on the other end of the room. A millisecond later, the shock reverberates through the floor, rattling the desks and causing coffee cups to shatter. The clock on the wall simply explodes, raining glass.
Your coworkers scream, but you don’t have the breath. What the hell, you think to yourself as the man makes a show of dusting off his hands, is going on here?
“What are you?” you blurt out.
The man raises an eyebrow. “I think the better question, young man, is what are you?”