Chapter Text
Pure Vanilla took a slow, measured breath as the lift descended deeper beneath the laboratory complex. The metal walls around him trembled faintly with the movement, and the low mechanical hum of the cables echoed through the cramped space like the growl of some enormous sleeping beast.
He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag.
It was natural to feel anxious. He reminded himself. Anyone would. This was his first official day in the new department—the department people rarely spoke about above ground unless they were whispering.
Pure Vanilla closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself as the elevator continued its seemingly endless descent. He could still hardly believe how quickly his life had changed. Just yesterday he had been another forgettable face in administration, buried beneath towers of paperwork and endless reports. His days had been dull, repetitive, and painfully ordinary.
Safe and familiar.
He missed it already.
A faint smile tugged at his lips despite the anxiety twisting in his stomach. He thought about Hollyberry from the records office, always greeting everyone with that loud, warm smile of hers no matter how exhausting the day became. Golden Cheese, who somehow managed to turn every meeting into a joke and could make even budget reports entertaining. Dark Cacao…stern and intimidating at first glance, but always helping others. He stayed late to assist with unfinished work and never expected anything in return.
Pure Vanilla wondered if they had already noticed his empty desk this morning.
The thought made his chest ache unexpectedly.
The lift shuddered violently for a brief second before stabilizing again. A soft electronic voice crackled from the speaker overhead.
“Level Nine. Authorized Personnel Only.”
His heartbeat quickened.
Level Nine.
Even hearing the words sent a chill crawling down his spine.
Everyone in the laboratory knew the rumors about this level. Stories about failed experiments. Artificial creatures. Dangerous entities far beyond people's wildest imaginations. All beneath the earth where sunlight could never reach them.
And now Pure Vanilla was going there himself.
As a supervisor. The promotion itself had come without warning. One moment he had been organizing laboratory expense reports, and the next he had been escorted into an office and informed that he had been “uniquely suited” for supervising work.
No explanation beyond that.
He swallowed nervously and glanced down at the bag hanging from his shoulder. Maybe checking his equipment again would help distract him from the growing dread knotting in his chest.
Carefully, he unzipped the bag and opened it across his lap.
Inside was a collection of supplies, documents, and unfamiliar devices hastily packed together.
Several thick folders sat on top, their corners bent from how quickly they had been clipped together. Bright red stamps marked the papers. Pure Vanilla hesitated before pulling one of the folders free and carefully opening it.
CONFIDENTIAL:LEVEL 4 CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Entity: The Zany
Classification Number: SMC-003
Current Habitat: Containment Sector in Level 9
Description:The entity known as “The Zany” possesses a humanoid body structure resembling a clown or jester. However, its true anatomy appears to be highly unstable and inconsistent under observation. [REDACTED] The entity demonstrates extreme agility, unnatural flexibility, and bursts of tremendous speed.
Behavior: The Zany displays highly theatrical behavior patterns and appears strongly drawn to attention, conversation, and emotional reactions from nearby individuals. Temperament is unpredictable. The entity may alternate rapidly between playful, cooperative, hostile, and violent behavior.
Abilities: [REDACTED] Further research ongoing.
Discovery: [REDACTED]
DOs and DON’Ts:
- Do not provoke aggressive emotional responses.
- Avoid sudden movements.
- Maintain conversational engagement if direct contact occurs.
- Do not enter the enclosure alone unless authorized.
- Do not attempt physical restraint without emergency clearance.
- Never remove or tamper with the entity’s collar device.
Pure Vanilla stared at the final sentence for a long moment. Then quietly lowered the file. Honestly, he found the documents disappointing. Most of the pages were either heavily censored or frustratingly vague.
A photograph slipped partially from the folder. The image was grainy and dark, clearly taken through surveillance cameras. It showed a massive silhouette hidden beneath striped fabric that resembled circus curtains. Long shapes—perhaps limbs or tendrils—curled through the shadows behind the canvas.
His stomach tightened.
The entity assigned to him.
Pure Vanilla pushed the file back into the bag before the unsettling photograph could linger any longer in his thoughts.
Next, he pulled out a small black remote.
It was surprisingly heavy in his hand, with only three buttons and a blinking red indicator light near the top. No labels. No instructions.
His unease deepened.
The device looked simple, but it was probably connected to some sort of emergency restraint system.
The fact that supervisors were issued such devices at all did not comfort him.
He carefully returned it to the bag and reached for the next item.
A folded black hazmat suit.
Unlike the standard protective gear worn in upper laboratories, this one looked almost militaristic. Thick reinforced fabric covered every inch, with heavy gloves attached to the sleeves and a dark visor built into the hood. Thin silver lines threaded through the material like veins.
A small handwritten note had been attached to the collar.
“Designed for protection against claws, bites, airborne toxins, corrosive fluids, psychic influence, and low-level mind manipulation.”
Pure Vanilla stared at the note.
Psychic influence? Mind manipulation?
He read the sentence again slowly, hoping he had misunderstood it somehow.
But the words remained exactly the same.
A nervous laugh almost escaped him, though it died quickly in his throat. Whoever wrote the note had done so casually, as though warnings about mind control were perfectly normal workplace hazards.
He folded the suit carefully.
Perhaps he should wear it before entering the enclosure.
If he even entered the enclosure at all.
The deeper he looked into the bag, the stranger the contents became. Sedatives. Flashlights. Nutrient packets labeled with warning symbols. A thick handbook. One sealed envelope marked ONLY OPEN IN CASE OF AGGRESSION.
Pure Vanilla decided not to touch that one.
Before he could continue examining the supplies, the lift gave a sudden metallic jolt. Then it stopped. Silence filled the elevator instantly.
Pure Vanilla froze.
For a brief moment he simply sat there listening to the distant groaning of machinery beyond the walls. Then the elevator doors slowly slid apart with a sharp hiss.
Pure Vanilla stood slowly, adjusting the strap on his bag as he stepped out onto the dimly lit floor of Level Nine.
The white hallway stretched endlessly ahead of him.
The ceiling pipes rattled softly overhead, and rows of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly. The concrete floor looked old and stained, marked with rust-colored smears that Pure Vanilla tried very hard not to examine too closely.
Vanilla swallowed hard and forced himself forward.
At the end of the corridor stood a massive steel door reinforced with thick locking mechanisms. Beside the door was a security scanner glowing pale blue. He reached shakily into his pocket, removed his new identification card, and slid it through the scanner.
A harsh electronic beep rang out.
For one horrifying second, nothing happened. Then several heavy locks disengaged with loud metallic clanks. The door slowly creaked open.
Pure Vanilla stepped inside.
The room beyond was enormous. Far larger than he expected. The chamber was divided cleanly in half by a towering reinforced glass wall stretching from floor to ceiling. Thick cables and security systems lined every edge of it, blinking with tiny red and green lights. The observation side where he stood contained monitors, desks, emergency equipment, and several locked cabinets built into the walls.
His eyes drifted toward the enclosure beyond the glass.
And his breath caught in his throat.
It looked almost surreal.
The enclosure resembled a gigantic circus tent built inside the underground chamber. Striped curtains of faded blue, white and gold hung from towering poles that disappeared upward into darkness. From where Pure Vanilla stood, he could not even see the ceiling. The tent seemed to stretch endlessly overhead, swallowed by shadows.
Dim carnival lights flickered weakly throughout the enclosure, bathing everything in a strange amber glow. Scattered props littered the ground—wooden crates, broken juggling clubs, rusted hoops, and overturned chairs arranged in unnatural patterns.
It felt less like an enclosure and more like the remains of a forgotten performance.
A performance abandoned long ago.
Yet something about it felt horribly alive.
Pure Vanilla stepped closer to the glass cautiously. His reflection stared back at him faintly in the reinforced glass, pale and tense beneath the flickering lights. His voice barely rose above a whisper. “Hello…? Is there anyone there?”
A cold unease settled heavily in his stomach. He swallowed hard and glanced toward the thick security door leading directly into the enclosure itself. A pale red light blinked beside the scanner.
Every instinct screamed at him not to go inside.
And yet…
A strange sensation curled through his chest, like invisible fingers brushing softly against the back of his thoughts.
Open the door.
Just look inside.
You’re supposed to be here.
Pure Vanilla frowned suddenly, pressing trembling fingers against his temple.
No.
That was ridiculous. He barely knew anything about the entity assigned to him yet. Entering the enclosure alone on his first day would be reckless beyond belief. Dangerously stupid.
And yet the thought remained.
His eyes drifted toward the door again before he caught himself and quickly looked away.
Psychological influence.
The warning attached to the hazmat suit flashed vividly in his memory.
Pure Vanilla exhaled shakily.
Right.
The suit.
Perhaps he should wear it before doing anything else. At the very least it would make him feel less exposed in this nightmare underground circus.
He crouched quickly beside his bag and reached for the zipper, then froze.
A scream echoed faintly through the enclosure.
Pure Vanilla’s head snapped upward instantly. He almost thought he imagined it. But there had definitely been something. Before he fully realized what he was doing, his body moved on instinct. His hands slipped his identification card from his pocket almost automatically. His feet carried him toward the security scanner beside the enclosure entrance.
Part of him screamed to stop.
But another part—that same strange pull clawing softly at the edges of his thoughts—pushed him forward.
The scanner flashed blue. Heavy locks disengaged one by one with deafening metallic clanks. Pure Vanilla’s heartbeat thundered painfully in his chest. The enclosure door slowly creaked open. Cold air rushed out immediately. It smelled faintly like old cotton candy left rotting too long in summer heat.
Pure Vanilla stepped inside carefully.
The door shut behind him with a heavy metallic boom that echoed throughout the chamber.
“Is…is anyone there?” he asked again, forcing his voice louder this time. “I’m the new supervisor.”
Nothing answered.
Pure Vanilla swallowed hard and slowly walked deeper into the enclosure. His shoes crunched softly against scattered debris covering the concrete floor. Rusted juggling pins. Torn fabric. Playing cards stained dark brown with age. Broken puppet heads with cracked painted smiles. Everywhere he looked felt abandoned.
Yet disturbingly lived in at the same time.
As though something still wandered these grounds long after the audience disappeared.
Pure Vanilla tightened his grip on his bag strap.
Please don’t let me die on my first day.
The thought came uninvited and immediate.
He almost laughed nervously at himself.
Almost.
Further ahead, rows of old chairs emerged. Dozens of them. Carefully arranged in semicircles facing inward like seating for some grand performance. It truly looked like an audience area.
Except…
Pure Vanilla frowned slightly.
There was no stage or obvious performance area at all. Just endless chairs facing empty space.
Unease crawled slowly up his spine.
Perhaps seeing from a different angle would help him understand the layout better. Or maybe he was simply trying to convince himself there was logic somewhere in this impossible place. Vanilla carefully grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it slightly away from the others.
The scraping sound echoed loudly through the enclosure.
Hesitantly, he sat down.
And immediately regretted it.
Something wrapped violently around his chest.
Pure Vanilla gasped.
Thin glowing strings shot upward from beneath the chair itself, nearly invisible except when they caught the carnival lights. Pale blue threads coiled instantly around his arms, waist, and legs like spider silk tightening around trapped prey.
“What—?!”
He struggled immediately, panic exploding through him.
The strings tightened harder. They felt impossibly strong despite their delicate appearance. Every movement only caused them to constrict further against his body. He tried pulling one hand free, but the glowing threads dug painfully into his sleeves.
This was a trap.
An actual trap.
His breathing became shallow and uneven as panic clawed through his chest.
Then...
That sound again.
Closer this time.
Above him.
Pure Vanilla slowly lifted his head.
And nearly screamed.
A figure hung upside down directly above him from a suspended circus ring, mere inches from his face.
Watching him.
Pure Vanilla froze completely.
The creature’s dark blue hair spilled downward unnaturally, white streaks cut through the strands, though the tips faded gradually into pitch blackness that writhed softly like living ink. Tiny unblinking eyes embedded between the strands.
Every single one staring directly at him.
Pure Vanilla felt sick instantly.
The creature grinned wider.
Its outfit resembled a performer's costume—tight black fabric clinging close to its lean frame with sharp blue diamond patterns decorating one leg and parts of the sleeves.
But the most disturbing part rested around its throat.
A massive collar.
Thick black metal wrapped tightly around its neck, connected to an eye-shaped mechanical device embedded directly into the costume ruffles. Thin blue lights pulsed slowly beneath the surface of the machine.
A restraint device.
Pure Vanilla recognized it immediately.
Shock collar.
The creature tilted its head slightly.
Its smile widened further.
“Lookie, lookie…” it crooned softly. “What do we have here?”
Its voice carried theatrical excitement beneath every word, playful in a way that somehow made it infinitely more unsettling.
“Ohhhh…” the creature giggled. “They finally sent me a new toy.”
Pure Vanilla stared helplessly. His mind blanked completely.
“Hey,” it said suddenly, voice dropping lower. “Can you talk? Or are you just gonna stare all day?”
Pure Vanilla flushed immediately. Only then did he realize he had indeed been staring. Very obviously. Mortification burned through him despite the situation.
“I—I apologize,” he stammered quickly, lowering his gaze toward the floor. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“I understand completely,” it continued proudly. “After all, it is I. Shadow Milk the greatest playwright, actor, and performer this world has ever seen.”
With impossible grace, it swung upward slightly, hooking its hands around the ring instead of hanging by its legs. Yet even then, it never fully touched the ground. Its body floated lazily several centimeters above the floor like gravity only partially affected it.
It spread one arm outward grandly.
“But, I would simply adore knowing my dear audience member’s name.”
Pure Vanilla swallowed.
“R-Right. My name is Vanilla.” He hesitated briefly before adding carefully, “Pure Vanilla. I’m…your new supervisor.”
The creature’s grin sharpened instantly.
“Ohhhhh, my new supervisor? This is going to be entertaining.”
It laughed brightly. The sound echoed throughout the enclosure like broken music box melodies. To Pure Vanilla’s surprise, some of his fear eased slightly. The creature seemed unstable, but not immediately violent. Perhaps this interaction could still be managed peacefully.
Vanilla attempted a small nervous smile.
“I hope we can work together nicely,” he said softly. “Maybe even become friends eventually.”
Silence. The creature stopped moving entirely. The eyes hidden within its hair all focused on him at once.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach dropped.
He said too much.
“Friends…of course! Of course! Of course!” the creature said it quietly. Something changed in its voice. The playful warmth remained, but underneath it now lurked something colder.The floating figure slowly released the circus ring. It landed before him. Then began walking closer. One slow step at a time.
Pure Vanilla instinctively tried pulling away, forgetting entirely that the glowing strings still restrained him tightly to the chair.
The creature crouched in front of him, smiling. It suddenly grabbed Pure Vanilla’s face violently with one hand. Long fingers dug painfully into his cheeks as the creature forced his head upward.
“Now…Tell me, silly Vanilly…” the creature whispered softly, its smile widened impossibly far. “How do you want this to end?”
Pure Vanilla’s blood turned ice cold.
He had made a catastrophic mistake.
He came inside alone.
He ignored the warnings.
And now he sat restrained helplessly beneath something that could likely tear him apart before anyone upstairs even realized he was gone.
The creature tilted its head curiously while studying his terrified expression.
He needed to escape. Now.
What had the papers told him?
Think. Think. Think. Think. Think.
Do not provoke aggressive emotional responses.
Avoid sudden movements.
Maintain conversational engagement if direct contact occurs.
Conversational engagement.
Right.
Pure Vanilla swallowed shakily.
The creature leaned closer. Its face was now only inches from his own. Its claws pressed deeper into his cheeks. Pure Vanilla realized with dawning horror that the creature was preparing to kill him.
His thoughts spiraled desperately searching for something—anything—that could delay whatever happened next.
Then, completely by accident, his mouth moved before his brain caught up.
“Y-Your claws are…mesmerizing…from this angle.”
Silence.
Pure Vanilla immediately wanted to die.
What kind of thing was that to say?
The creature blinked. Then suddenly, it burst into laughter. The sound echoed violently through the circus enclosure, bouncing off curtains and rusted equipment in shrill waves.
“Ohhhhh, that is pathetic,” the creature wheezed between laughs.
Pure Vanilla sat frozen in terror.
“You’re trying so hard not to die right now,” it giggled. “And that was the first thing your terrified little brain could think of?”
Pure Vanilla opened his mouth helplessly, but othing came out.
The creature grinned wider.
“But…” It hummed thoughtfully. “You truly think they’re pretty?”
It slowly lifted one hand between them.
Long black claws gleamed beneath the weak carnival lights like polished obsidian. Thin silver reflections danced across the curved surfaces. The creature rotated its wrist slowly, admiring them.
Then its many eyes flicked back toward him.“Well?”
Pure Vanilla understood immediately.
Keep talking.
His survival depended on it.
“Yes,” he said quickly, voice trembling. “They are.”
The creature’s smile sharpened with interest.
“Go on.”
Pure Vanilla’s brain scrambled desperately.
“They’re…very elegant,” he managed weakly. “Sharp, but very shiny as well. Reminds me of…” He swallowed nervously. “...gemstones.”
The creature stared at him intensely. Then slowly released his face completely.
Pure Vanilla nearly collapsed with relief.
“That’s a much better answer.” the creature purred softly. “Keep talking, silly Vanilly and maybe your death wouldn’t be as paintfull.”
Pure Vanilla obeyed instantly. He did not dare stop.
“Your hair is also very unusual,” he continued hurriedly. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
The eyes hidden within the dark strands blinked eagerly.
“Yes?” the creature asked.
“The colors are beautiful,” Pure Vanilla admitted honestly despite himself. “The blue and white together look almost like moonlight on water.”
The creature visibly brightened.
“And?” it pressed excitedly.
Pure Vanilla’s throat felt dry.
“And the eyes are…” He hesitated carefully. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” it repeated dramatically. “Only interesting?”
“I mean—not in a bad way!” Pure Vanilla corrected quickly. “They’re just very expressive.”
“Oh?” the creature crooned. “Which ones?”
Pure Vanilla nearly cried. “There are too many to choose from.”
The creature cackled happily.“Flatterer.”
Its mood had shifted completely now.
The murderous tension from moments ago softened into something energetic and theatrical instead. It circled him slowly like a performer basking in applause, clearly enjoying every second of attention.
Pure Vanilla clung desperately to that realization.
It likes compliments.
Good.
He could do compliments.
Probably.
“I also like your costume,” he added quickly before silence could return. “The diamond patterns are very detailed.”
The creature struck a dramatic pose instantly.“I designed it myself.”
“That’s impressive.” Vanilla murmured. The glowing strings around him loosened ever so slightly. Not enough to escape. But enough to breathe easier.
“I know.”
The creature continued circling him lazily while he desperately searched for more compliments. Every observation bought him another few seconds. Another minute alive.
Everything became material for survival. And horrifyingly enough, the creature genuinely seemed happy. Not fake amusement or manipulation. Actual delight.
Like no one had spoken to it like this before.
That realization made Pure Vanilla’s chest ache unexpectedly beneath the terror.
How long had this thing been trapped down here? How many supervisors came before him? How many treated it like nothing but a monster?
The thought slipped through his mind before he could stop it.
The creature suddenly crouched before him again.
“Well?” it asked softly. “Anything else you noticed?”
Pure Vanilla’s thoughts stumbled.
He had already listed nearly everything. Claws. Hair. Eyes. Costume.
His eyes flicked toward the creature’s legs. There was slightly dragging motion as the creature moved on the ground. Perhaps it wasn't used to it.
And before his exhausted brain could stop him…
“You walk strangely.”
Silence.
Every eye stopped blinking.
Pure Vanilla felt immediate horror flood through him.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
“I mean—”
“Strangely?” the creature repeated quietly. Its voice no longer sounded playful.
The temperature in the enclosure seemed to plummet.
The creature slowly straightened. One leg shifted awkwardly beneath the tight black fabric.
Pure Vanilla suddenly realized.
Injury.
The creature was injured.
And he had pointed it out.
Idiot.
Complete idiot.
“I just meant—” Pure Vanilla stammered desperately. “Are you hurt?”
The creature’s smile vanished completely. For the first time since meeting it, the theatrical personality disappeared entirely. What remained beneath it was cold fury.
The many eyes within its hair narrowed simultaneously into thin hateful slits.
“You noticed.”
The words came out deadly.
Pure Vanilla’s breathing quickened immediately.
“I wasn’t mocking you,” he said quickly. “I was worried.”
The creature twitched violently.
“Worried?”
Its voice cracked strangely around the word.
Pure Vanilla instinctively shrank back into the chair. The glowing strings tightened instinctively around him once more as though reacting to the creature’s emotions.
“You looked at me,” the creature whispered. “And saw something broken.”
The creature moved fast. Pure Vanilla barely had time to gasp before agony exploded across his face. Claws slashed violently through his cheek. Hot pain ripped through him instantly.
He cried out sharply. The creature’s nails carved deep from cheekbone nearly to jawline before releasing him just as suddenly.
Warm blood spilled immediately down his skin and neck.
The glowing strings vanished all at once. Vanilla nearly fell from the chair. The creature stared at him silently for one terrible moment.
Hatred burned behind every eye.
Then, it disappeared. Vanished backward into the shadows between the striped curtains. The enclosure fell silent instantly.
Pure Vanilla sat frozen in shock. Pain throbbed violently across his face. His trembling fingers slowly lifted toward the wound.
Wet.
Blood.
A lot of blood.
Then survival instincts finally slammed back into him.
Move.
NOW.
Pure Vanilla stumbled violently out of the chair, nearly collapsing as his numb legs struggled to function again. Panic surged through him in full force as he grabbed his bag from the floor.
His footsteps echoed frantically through the enclosure as he sprinted toward the security door. Rusted props and chairs blurred past him beneath flickering amber lights.
Pure Vanilla reached the scanner and slammed his identification card against it with shaking hands.
The system beeped red.
Denied.
“No no no—”
He tried again desperately. The locks disengaged. Pure Vanilla practically threw himself through the opening as the heavy steel door slid apart. The second he crossed into the observation room, the enclosure door slammed shut behind him with a deafening metallic boom.
Pure Vanilla staggered backward breathing hard. Blood dripped steadily from his face onto the sterile laboratory floor.