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[ CLASSIFIED FILE ]
[ Z-962 - a.k.a. “The Gardener” ]
[PASSIVE UNLESS PROVOKED]
Z-962 is an instance within the Blacksite that occurred post-breach, and the exact nature of what caused its occurrence remains unknown. It is also unknown as to if Z-962 really did only occur post-breach, or if it simply hid itself until the breach.
The original operatives sent into the Blacksite reported wailing coming from within the O2 DiVine gardens, which did not match any that the plants themselves would create. Upon further investigation, Z-962 was found.
Z-962 claims to have been left behind during the breach, however the validity of that claim is yet to be verified, as Z-962’s acclaimed “human” identity, one Florence Ravenwood, was reported dead approximately 3 hours prior to the breach. Mr. Ravenwood reportedly died due to health conditions he faced prior to entering the Urbanshade Blacksite.
Florence Ravenwood was, in fact, a gardener within the O2 gardens during his lifetime, however it is highly possible that Z-962 simply saw him working with the plants and decided to claim to be him.
Z-962 has shown highly unstable behaviour, and consistently attacks Urbanshade official operatives. Curiously, Z-962 has shown affectionate, pleading behaviour towards expendables sent into the O2 gardens. Reportedly, Z-962 claims that Urbanshade left it behind during the breach, and that the DiVine saved it, and would save the expendable too. This is not correct.
Z-962 has been reported to “consume” its victims within the plants, and Urbanshade scientists conclude it likely turns them into fertiliser. The nature of this process remains unknown, however.
Operatives are to note Z-962’s presence by its loud wails and pleas that can be heard from at least two rooms away. If possible, reroute to avoid Z-962.
As stated prior, Z-962 is known to attack official Urbanshade operatives on sight, using control of the DiVine’s vines and “bodies” as weapons, and attempting to drag them into the soil. However, Z-962 has been known to hesitate when facing those bearing the expendables’ uniform, and instead attempt to convince them to either join it, or help it escape the Blacksite.
Do not, under any circumstances, allow Z-962 to escape the Blacksite.
If absolutely necessary, operatives are encouraged to set Z-962 on fire, if possible. It is mostly made of plant matter, and is likely very flammable.
If you burn Z-962, it is likely that the rest of the DiVine garden will suffer, as there is evidence of Z-962 being the "heart" of the garden. Please be warned that O2 levels within the Blacksite will rapidly decrease.
The DiVine gardens have always given you chills. Even just the description of it–of plant-like humans, or… human-like plants, or whatever they were–put you on edge.
Actually being in them, though? That was a whole different level of off putting.
You entered another door–what was it now? Fifty-eight? You wondered absentmindedly if you would make it to one hundred.
…Did you even want to?
No matter. Such trivial things weren’t important right now, because as soon as you entered the room, you heard distant wails. They sounded… agonised. As if someone was being slowly tortured. As if the awful experiments that you know happened within this facility were still taking place. It put you even more on edge.
You’d heard screams earlier–someone yelling about their leg, or something, and distant gunshots–but they’d faded quickly. These wails paused, but didn’t cease.
Two more rooms past, did it matter if you kept track anymore? The wails were so loud, so pleading now, it made your head hurt. Was someone really there? This didn’t sound like your mind playing tricks on you, although you couldn’t–or perhaps you didn’t want to–entirely rule out that possibility.
Was it Sebastian? No, no, that voice–you couldn’t exactly make out the words, but you could hear a clear voice–that wasn’t his. Who else did you know to be down here? Who else could speak? P.AI.nter? The intercom guy? No, no, it wasn’t either of their voices.
Whoever it was, the yelling and pleading had gotten loud enough for you to make out the words. You wished that it hadn’t.
“ Please , please, whatever I’ve done wrong–I know I can fix it!” the voice was calling. Their voice was hoarse, and sounded… off. As if there was another laid underneath it. “Please, you can’t leave me here, not like this… please…”
You opened another door cautiously, almost wishing an angler would rush by and kill you before you had to face whatever this was.
As soon as the door opened, the wails stopped. Instead, the voice whispered, hopefully, “Hello? Is someone there to save me?”
You paused in the doorway. The room in front of you was massive, with an impossibly tall roof. Almost all of it was a DiVine grass patch, with thin pathways around the very edge of the room, connecting it to the next door in your journey, and a few other rooms.
However, as you opened the door, one of those DiVine human-plants was facing you. Except it was… different. It was large, for one–about five times the size of a normal one in height, but its upper body was a normal size. Its legs turned into a large knot of vines, and slowly those vines formed an upper body, with skin poking through in patches. One of its arms was fully made of vines, and the other was as well… until it reached the elbow. The forearm and hand were fully skeletal. And its face… half of its face was made of vines, with a gaping hole leaving a hollowed out eye socket with a bloodshot green eye within it. The vined half of its face had a gaping jaw, perpetually open, revealing teeth and a tongue. However, the other half of its face was that of a rather sweet-looking person. They had green eyes, tanned skin with freckles dotting their cheeks and nose, and tufts of dark brown hair. They were still wearing glasses, large, circular and with black rims.
Immediately, upon spotting you, the knots of vines that made them roughly 20 metres tall untangled. Slowly, the vines slinked off, until they were roughly a metre and 78 centimetres. They got as close to you as possible–you were still in the door, and they were leaning over the edge of the patch, about two metres away.
“Did they send you to help me?” the creature asked softly. “You’re wearing one of my uniforms.”
You looked down at the uniform you were wearing–indeed, it was the same as what the DiVine gardeners wore. You chose it because the idea of the DiVine freaked you out, and you much rather get on the plants’ good side. You assumed wearing something familiar to them would make them less prone to violence, if you were to encounter the gardens on your route.
“I’m an expendable,” you said softly, cautiously. “I’m here to get the crystal.”
“Is that it?” the half-plant creature muttered. “Are you sure? Did they not also task you with saving me? …Surely they won’t keep me locked down here.”
You gulped. “I… it wasn’t on my objective list, but maybe I can help you out.”
The creature’s eyes brightened immediately. “Really? Oh, thank you! Thank you! I’m so happy, I would cry–but I can’t, haha, the plant took my tear ducts away, I think…” they muttered.
You stepped closer cautiously, and they reached out their vined hand to shake yours.
“Oh my, where are my manners? I'm Florence. Florence Ravenwood. But if you’re saving me, you can call me Flo. Please mind the, uh, state, that I’m in. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal soon,” he said with a smile.
You shook his hand hesitantly, and gave your name. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that he likely wouldn’t be “back to normal soon”. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that this seemed, to you, to be a permanent change.
He clapped his hands. He pointed to one of the doors lining the walls with a bony hand. “Right. Well. My old gardening supplies are in that room over there–there should be a shovel, along with the keycard you can use to exit the door behind me. Grab the shovel, dig out my roots, and I should be okay from there. Then you can use the keycard to leave.”
You nodded, opening the door to the room. It was a quaint little space, with a bunk bed on the wall left of the door. Directly across from the door were pictures of a man–-Florence, it seemed, but completely human, both sides of his face being made of flesh–-with another man. The other man was significantly shorter, and had a large grin on his face as one of his arms were wrapped around Florence’s shoulders. He had pale skin, brown hair that was significantly lighter than Florence’s near-black hair, and bluey-green eyes.
There were other photos of Florence with this man, and also of Florence with two different women–-one older than him, and one who seemed in her early teens. Due to similar features, you assumed this was his mother and his sister.
There was a document placed on his bed, and you went to pick it up. You examined both sides, and went to open it, when–-
“ Yoiiiiink!” Sebastian’s voice sang, as an arm reached down from a vent and took the document from you.
“Hey–excuse you!” you yelled.
“Is everything okay in there?” Florence’s disjointed, odd voice called out, anxious.
“Yes, sorry! Just–-ran into Sebastian. Do you know him?” you called back. You moved to the right wall, where you spotted the shovel propped against the wall, and a keycard on the table beside it.
“...As in Z-13? Oh, yes, I knew of him back when I was working here. Poor man, he didn’t deserve all that, but then neither did… oh, well. That doesn’t matter,” Florence added, the last part barely audible to you.
You turned to leave, but a slightly ajar drawer under the table with the keycard caught your eye. You opened it, to reveal… a lighter.
Hmmm.
...Well this was interesting.
You never really did like the DiVine gardens, did you?
You stashed the lighter in your pocket quickly, and exited the room.
Florence was waiting for you in his patch of grass, with a pleasant smile on his face. Well… half of his face. The vine-half of his face’s jaw still hung limply open, unaffected. He was wringing his hands–which you weren’t sure was entirely comfortable for him, as one of his hands was skeletal, and the other completely made of vines.
“Thank you so much… oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to get out,” he was saying. You took the shovel to his roots, and began digging. “They… you wouldn’t believe it, they just left me, during the Breach.” He paused, thinking. “The DiVine saved me. Lovely plants, aren’t they? But they’re more than that to me… they’re family. They… they’re the only ones who cared enough to save me. As soon as I’m out of here, and I’m back to normal… I need to come back and return the favour. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”
You nodded absentmindedly.
“Urbanshade operatives, they didn’t believe me when I said I was Florence. They said I died a few hours before the Breach… they’re liars, but what else is new? Corrupt from the start… I should’ve seen it. I only took a job here for the money… I needed it to support my mother, she had cancer… and, also because I studied botany. Well–-also because of–-well, the man you might’ve seen in the pictures with me in my room. He was a childhood best friend, and he was convicted of... terrible, terrible crimes. Crimes that I don't think he was capable of. No, he was definitely framed. They brought him down here. I think they experimented on him. But that isn't... he's probably dead now. Either way, I mostly... I mostly came for my mother. But, it also certainly helped that these plants… they fascinated me. They still do. They’re more prone to empathy than… than real human beings,” Florence was rambling.
This person was completely out of their mind.
“I bet… hmm. I bet even if you, someone they don’t even really know, were in danger… I bet they’d save you too,” Florence said. He was smiling, looking at the other vined bodies around the room. “They’re kind creatures. They saw me, someone who’d worked with them closely, and decided to save me. They’re more human than Urbanshade ever was.”
They paused for a long moment, eyes moving back and forth, as if lost in memory. You paused your digging, wedging the shovel into the ground. If he was zoning out… then this was your chance.
He snapped back quicker than you'd expected. “Anyway, we’ll get out, and everything will be just fine, right?" he said. He clasped his hands together, and turned his gaze down to you. "H–hold on, hey, what’s that?” he asked, panic seeping into his voice.
You were pulling out the lighter, frantically trying to flick it on.
“Hey, hey! Hey ! I thought I could trust you !” they roared. The vines around Florence’s feet knotted together, pushing their body upward, until Florence was 20 metres tall again, with vines knotting together and acting as tentacles. “You’re just like them! Did they send you down here to kill me?”
You kept hurriedly trying to flick the lighter on, but it wouldn’t light. Florence wailed, and a thick knot of vines flung you across the room.
“I can’t believe it… I can’t believe it. I trusted you,” Florence cried. The hurt in his voice almost made you feel bad.
Almost.
Vines erupted around the room, splitting the concrete apart as Florence let out pained wails, clutching the vine-half of his face with his skeletal hand. “ Please … haven’t I suffered enough?” he pleaded.
Vines became twisting obstacles now, and all the bodies of the DiVine sprang into action. Slowly they trodded towards you, taking slashes when you came too close. Florence’s vine-tentacles were swinging about aimlessly–-he seemed too caught up in grief to bother with aiming properly–-and going too close to one resorted in you being flung right back to the entrance of the room.
You weaved under a loop of vines, which were slowly moving up, out of the grass-bed, before diving back into it. A DiVine body swiped at you, but you managed to dodge out of the way. You ducked under vines and swings frantically, trying to flick on the lighter.
Eventually, you made it. Eventually, you’d crossed the massive room and were now standing at the base of Florence’s vines. DiVine bodies were making their way towards you, but they were slow, clumsy enemies.
The lighter clicked on.
You brought it to the base of Florence’s vine-body.
It caught alight immediately.
They writhed in pain, screaming louder than before, the second voice that whispered underneath his louder one becoming more prominent.
Vines flailed around aimlessly, and you were flung back into a wall once more in the chaos.
“No, no ! You can’t kill me–-you can’t kill them ! They saved me, they–-no, no, keep them alive–-no one deserves this! Please, please, I just want to see my mother–-” Florence was wailing.
You got up slowly, and ran for the door. DiVine bodies were curling away from Florence, and the grass around him was starting to set alight. You paused at the concrete around the next door, keycard pad beeping with a blue light.
He noticed you hesitating by the door, and he shrunk, slowly, the flames licking his lower body, until only his upper body remained untouched. He crawled over to your feet using just his arms to pull him forward, the flames licking around his waist.
His upper body left the confines of the grass bed. What would have been his feet were the only things that stayed connected, as he laid across the dirty floor.
A skeletal hand gripped your ankle. “I’m so sorry,” he said, gentler and more hurt than you could’ve imagined. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what I did to upset you. I just wanted… I just wanted to go home.”
“I’m sorry,” you muttered back. You bent down and stroked his hair, and he leaned into the touch.
“Can you… can you get out, and see if my mother’s okay? Dorris Ravenwood? Please? Tell her I love her. Promise me you’ll tell her,” he said softly.
“Of course,” you replied, even gentler. “I promise.” The flames reached his neck, and you had to remove your hand, lest you wanted to burn yourself.
“Thank you,” he muttered. His eyes closed as the flames engulfed his face.
A pile of ash remained in the place of Florence Ravenwood.
DORRIS RAVENWOOD - JUN. 1948 - OCT. 2019
A LOVING MOTHER, AN INCREDIBLE GRANDMOTHER, A CARING FRIEND.
MAY SHE FOREVER LIVE ON IN OUR MEMORIES.
You placed a bouquet of flowers at the base of the grave.
They mustn't have told Florence that his mother died. Did they keep taking the money he was sending out to her? Did they just cut it from his wages?
Did they even send any money for her treatment to begin with?
You looked at the gravestone. It was simple, plain. There was a wilted, single flower placed across its arch. Perhaps Florence's sister had been here.
"Your son loves you," you said. "But I'm sure he's told you that himself, now."