192 containment journal entry

Researcher :: ERRTKNNO

I can’t remember how many days I’ve been here, been sealed up in a tube, or how long I’ve been alone, but judging by the fact that I’m looking at this terminal again, this would be the seventh or eighth time I’ve died.

Been cleaning the nano gunk out of my lungs and nose so much I’ve become a seasoned pro of sorts- beginning to really hate the taste. It used to remind me of home and rest, now it reminds me of a prison.

Finally found out on this attempt at escape why I keep finding myself back in this room— the facility’s AI has me tagged as a “valuable asset” and has the zombified guards clean me of anything I’ve picked up (remove debris so that I may repair myself? Really?) and dump me in here. It hasn’t found out how to turn the collar on yet, so I don’t have to take it off. Yet.

Walls here never are in the same place twice. Once I leave the ruined research labs, everything is different. Sometimes I find a pistol left by a security guard, or an old rifle— even found a bubblegum pink pistol that fired bullets as big around as my fingers— and canned food shows up in the storeroom in my facility every time I find it, which is good. If I have to shut down to recharge, I’m as good as dead and back here again- gotta keep eating.

Don’t like killing anything— usually difficult. Screaming doesn’t work on anything. The plankton monsters and the walking corpses take two shots from a pistol before stopping- the big ones even more. Found it a lot easier to use the plastic explosives the researchers leave everywhere- drop it behind, wait a second, cover to avoid getting hit by gore. Kill the rest with the pistol. Saves ammo, which is great. Nails and cans also do a good job of making a sort of shotgun when you use the plastic explosive- tears my hands up but they heal fast enough to use a gun once the can gun does it’s work. Bombs made with nails also good, but dangerous- first time I died, I dropped one at my feet and was cornered on top of it.

Encountered one new thing— the security guards. Looks on faces like monsters from the comics the doctor would sneak in for me- horror. Shoot me on sight though. Screaming only cripples, can still shoot me. Think they were the ones that killed me this time. If I don’t have a gun or cover, I should run. I hope I don’t find Robbie like that. Thought of it haunts my dreams.

Hope I don’t see this again, but if I do, this’ll help— and good morning, White. Run.