"Sir, #790-2 and #790-3 are both unresponsive. Standing by for retrieval."

"Delay retrieval for approximately one minute. There is the possibility of another outbreak should #601 enrage. Maintain your distance for now behind bulkheads one and two."

"U-understood sir."

The shaky reply through the earpiece reminds me of how I was back then. It's crazy to think that alchemists from the fifth could fear something so innocuous, considering the horrors they birth there. Yet there they are, grown men huddling behind the reinforced bulkheads on the other end of the complex, stone-faced, some shifting their weight from side-to-side. No matter what protocols, no matter the safeties or redundancies involved, mankind will still fear their predators even behind a locked cage. Learned? Not hardly. Pure instinct. A primordial fear that can never be fully extinguished. It's been three years, and mine hasn't.

I'll give them credit. Despite their briefing on what happened, all six volunteered to join my personal hell. My colleagues from the third couldn't handle it anymore after the first week... poor things, the mental scarring proved too much for them. Thank the gods Seren brought me chimera experts from the fifth.

"Both specimens have fully dissolved and have assumed #601's appearance. #601 appears stable, should we start sir?"

So far, so good. "Yes. Remain vigilant. While the barriers Lady Seren enchanted on your robes are effective against blunt force, they won't hold against #601's attacks once enraged. Do not approach the main body, only remove what it leaves behind."

I watched the two teams on a nearby Ether monitor as they entered the chamber from both sides, bulkheads flaring and contracting behind them. They advanced on two puddles where a pair of Cryers once stood with their mithril-reinforced levitation carts.

"Looks like #601 left two this time sir. One weighs approximately nine Farls, the other seven."

Once it fully assimilates its prey, #601 will typically eject a non-sapient portion of itself roughly in proportion to the organic mass it absorbs. The composition of prey doesn't affect its behavior, whether they be larger than itself or smaller. Its methods, however, are. If #601 has a overall mass advantage it's a simple task, as it envelopes the unfortunate entirely, assimilating everything on the spot. But if its prey is larger than itself, it opts for what could only be described as a self-destructive strategy where it throws itself down their throats or any other accessible opening, be it natural or injury, to consume them from the inside.

In today's test, two Cryers, or specimens under the chimeric identifier #790, were introduced to #601.

An excerpt from #790's documentation reads, rather loosely, that Cryers are a relatively recent creation of the fifth floor. Someone got the idea that goblin flesh would be fun to play around with. While weak, goblins have remarkable regenerative capabilities compared to humans, but not exceeding that of some other species or the common gray goblin's direct evolutions, the Greater or 'Hobgoblin' in the layman's vernacular, or the Pygmy Troll. This regeneration allowed the Cryer to be born. A two-legged abomination resembling that of an avian without feathers or talons. Instead of a beak a round, trunk-like and extremely dexterous orifice can be observed. My colleagues tell me they're conveniences meant for cleaning specimen excrement. For self-defense against other specimens, they exude repulsive pheromones and, in the case of an attack, will flee while spraying a noxious musk from their posteriors, a trait similar to the horrendous smell of their base material, the goblin. They are remarkably hardy due to their regeneration as well, which enabled their integration into numerous projects on the fifth floor and, surprisingly, the sixth. Much to the chagrin of the floor personnel, as the chimera's namesake is demoralizing and downright frightening. No one wants to hear something disturbing like a child's cries while working in such an environment. Unintended behavior, obviously.

For all their hardiness and putridness, they didn't last long against #601. Lady Seren relayed to me that the director was rather curious how #601 would fare against them, if the foulness of their flesh had any bearing on its preferences or if it affected its behavior in any way. Which prompted her to fetch a spare pair from the sixth floor, where they supposedly had found an idyllic purpose among pacifistic homunculi. Against those expectations, #601 didn't seem to mind as it utilized its first method of assimilation to completely incapacitate and engulf them both over the span of ten minutes.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Retrieval complete sir. #601-457 and 458 are contained and secured."

"Well done. Return without disturbing #601."

I let out a long sigh, all the stress of today's test melting away as I watched the two teams safely retreat through the bulkheads. It's every time. Not one session has passed where I could rest easy. Never-ending paranoia. I know if I let up even once, #601 could rampage just like it did three years ago. What if it could escape here? Yes, this laboratory complex is far and away more sturdy than its predecessor, I know that. Yet, I can't put my full trust in mere steel. If everything could be made of mithril... I don't want to lose anymore colleagues, or my own life for that matter. Thankfully, #601 hasn't caused trouble since the incident or shown any signs of hostility to anyone -not that anyone dared to provoke any, although many, myself included, wished the abomination would just disappear. As the bearer of bad news, I know full well that Lord Tenth would personally 'deal' with anyone that chose to act on that wish. Not that I believe anyone or anything could kill it...

Oh gods above, why do you let us bring things like this into the world?

"Sir, should we notify Lady Seren of the samples?" One of the team leaders called as he rounded the corner to my control room. He wiped his brow and whistled as he gave me that look of mixed relief and a half-scrape with death I know all too well.

"I'd rather not. Lately she's had her hands full with Lord Tenth's errands." It's been some days since she's been to the research complex. Something about preparing to welcome new personnel to the tower. I expect the paperwork to be more than a hassle, so on the one hand it's understandable. On the other it's a frustrating ordeal. I can't do much by myself with the meager authority of a third floor resident, which makes my existence here practically obsolete. Whether it be requisitioning materials from the lower floors, or communing with the omnipotence above my head... ah, what is Lord Tenth thinking. I can't begin to fathom his purpose for me here.

"Then what will we do with them?"

"With what?"

"The samples sir."

Nearly forgot. Must be fatigue. "O-oh, right. There isn't much storage left here to my knowledge... I believe there should be a freezing unit on the first sub-level."

"Freezing unit...? But sir, freezing units are only meant for low level containment. Shouldn't we properly contain the samples? Isn't #601 considered a Class One threat?"

A incomprehensible urge to beat my head against the nearest wall came over me when he brought that up. I simply repeated the contents of a report of dubious factuality Lady Seren handed me on the very first sample's test results some years ago. Have it all memorized by now. "I don't know what to tell you. All I was told is that the #601 dash-series are either entirely dormant or non-sapient altogether, making it a Class Nine or Ten maximum. If we don't have the space anywhere else, it shouldn't be a problem to store a Class Nine there."

"If you say so." He mumbled, waving the now-arriving team members out of the control room.

Not that I agree with that report at all. It can't be helped, since the research complex's storage units are filled with #601's waste. It's becoming a bit of a problem truth be told. Won't be long before the tower pops its top from how much we've crammed it with #601. That would be hilarious, wouldn't it? Wonder how that old bat would feel up in the clouds.

I started a bit from a vicious rumbling as I tried to lean against a nearby control panel for a breather.

"Oh, I haven't eaten for awhile have I?"

Lately, I've been skipping meals to the point of becoming a habit. Food tends to look like the chimeras it consumes every day, so it's no wonder. Still, I should eat something, or I'll wind up passing out. Let's see, anything that's doesn't come from a bird might not disagree with me today.

My footsteps echoed along the lab hallway. I'm quite alone right now. The usual. Not everyone is forced to watch #601 all day every day. Just me. I paused momentarily to look back, listening for the impossible to happen. I hoped and prayed it was, at the very least. Nothing stirred, save the steady thrum of the Ether conduits inside the ceiling and walls.

"I'll be an old man at this rate." I groused at those little delusions of mine and proceeded, though not with anymore confidence than I did before.

Beef wouldn't sit well. Last week's subject had the hooves and horns of a bovine of some kind, which kind I didn't want to know. Hah... the menu's getting leaner and leaner every day. At this rate I'll be left with the green stock of the third.

"Hmm?"

Curiously, as I turned the corridor leading to the entrance of our complex, the second-tier containment gate stood ajar, inner mechanism limply grinding in place. This might not seem particularly serious, and anywhere else wouldn't be considered a problem. But here, a bizarre sight like this could only spell disaster. A stark terror coursed through my spine. All high-level containment facilities were to be locked down for security purposes at all times, and a special pendant issued to those operating said facilities for ingress or egress. While not a protocol we had to follow on the third floor, it is strictly enforced through automatic control from the fifth floor throughout, leaving absolutely no room for human error. That is, if the only error possible were from a human.

So then why... why, is the damned thing malfunctioning?