Beneath the Ice: An Among Us Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty: The Wolf Inside

Apparently, Clasher was doing everything right in the "List to be a Good Crewmate."

Do tasks. Check.

Avoid death. Check.

Report on time. Check.

Start hallucinating and be buzzed to drive your friends up the wall on why you're acting that way. Well, it wasn't officially on the list, but it might as well be.

In any case, also check.

Clasher felt himself laugh weakly as a seagull cawed indignantly at him from the foot of the bio-bed. "Go away. I don't have food..."

Petri came into his view and looked concerned. The light gleamed off of his analytic glasses as he shone a flashlight into Clasher's eyes. "His pupils seem to be dilating well."

"That doesn't mean that he's alright," Cinnabar's voice snapped. Clasher glanced around and realized that he was in Medical Bay. MedBay. How did those words get put together? "He lost blood and who knows what kind of bacteria was on that tentacle. Did you get a scan on what that tentacle was made out of?"

A sigh from Petri. "I did when I scanned Commander Harrison, but thanks to you, all my readings are biting the dust. And it's going to take a little bit for me to access the archive and even then, I have no idea is the information's still intact."

"You know that Forte would have killed them if I hadn't done it," Cinnabar grumbled. A sharp zzt sounded and someone else (Captain Foster or Commander Harrison?) let out a sharp breath. "Sorry. Anyway, you're one to talk, Petri, since you straight-up destroyed an O2 canister."

Clasher could guess that Petri was rolling his eyes. Another set of uncontrollable laughter bubbled to his lips. The rational part of Clasher was whispering, stop, this isn't funny, but it seemed like the slightly insane part of him was in control of the wheel. The seagull hopped onto his chest and Clasher swatted at it.

"Gah!" Cinnabar said, coming into Clasher's view. A silver hypospray was in her hand and she injected the contents into his neck. "I can't handle this anymore."

"Is that smart?" Captain Foster's voice asked, receding down a dark tunnel.

"Probably not, but I can't help him if..."

Within moments, the edges of Clasher's vision turned dark, and he was out.

Or was he?

While the pull of sleep seemed to be all that was tethering Clasher, a part of his head seemed... free to roam. The brilliance of the minds around him shone brightly; Cinnabar's fierce, red-hot fire of protectiveness, Petri's quiet and logical series of calculations surrounding a small but melting ball of pain, and Captain Foster's solemn determination lit by a spark consisting of a mix of emotions.

Elsewhere, though, Clasher sensed two other minds. But these were different, both minds were full-on raging at each other, burnt-orange clashing with midnight-blue, strings of gold against threads of silver. Almost as if...

they were fighting against one another.

As the realization dawned on him, Clasher was knocked out of his somewhat confused state and a crisp sense of purpose came over him. He was Lieutenant-Commander Clasher Shur'tugal Saeturn, Security Officer aboard Squad 257. And he couldn't afford to be all loony when his friends needed him.

Okay, that was a weird pep-talk. New rule: if everything around him was insane, Clasher was allowed to be somewhat loony.

He tried to return back to the real world, back to his body, but he couldn't find a way. Clasher guessed that it was because the dang sedative was keeping him asleep for a while.