DON'T PHUCK THIS UP. [phighting si]

CHAPTER 2 - LOOP OF LIMBO, UNO::228'S FIRST PHIGHTER

KNOCKING AT THE DOOR, again and again and again and again. You snuggled deeper into your concerning comfy bed, humming annoyances at the door with animalistic and grumpy noises. Fuck did you hate waking up. As if to hammer in the point, a mocking point, your alarm began to vibrate forcefully, again and again and again and again. Your eighth one rang out silently, humming a stressed tone. It spoke, violence, aggression, pressure, demand.

"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP"

Unfamiliar voice. You wake.

Autonomy and parasite-controlled mechanisms to turn it off. Your head sunk into your hands, back and spine pressing against the dipping wall - being around 200 centimetres tall had unfortunately formed small dents in the walls from your horns.. Back and forth your fingers crossed along the rims of your eyelids, picking out the sleepy crust from the crevices. A strange satisfaction came from rolling your skin over your eyes - you were never quite sure why, but it felt right to dig under the protective boundaries on your face. Could be attributed to all the holes in your skin now.

Holes in your skin?

Dashing along the undersides of your eyesockets - no, no there weren't. It was normal flesh. Fine flesh. So fine you could eat it. What?

Is compatibility slacking off again

it's early kill yourself

Linear shut up

The knocking only grew fiercer, a rupturing beast breaking down at the door.

Good morning, Hivecom. We should answer that, no?

we're not dressed... unpresentable.. unacceptable. unprofessional. yet tardiness is also undesirable, unacceptable. unprofessional.

Let's just make ourself look a lil good then, ei?

inadequate

everyone's a critic

They were right, and the storm drew closer. You slipped out of bed and into your sandals, immediately longing for the warmth of your bed. Work was soon, anyhow - why weren't you panicking-

-and crying and screaming and throwing up and shitting ur pants-

-(and getting that guy to shut up) and rushing out the door? You were motivated enough by a whole new environment to exist around in, yet you slogged in your bed for that long.

"Whatever hypothetical readers there are must be so fucking bored with all this nothing."

You had slipped into a simple, presentable outfit without noticing, the same from yesterday. Stepping into the toilet - the bathroom now, you supposed, a lavatory if you will - you caught your eyes. They w

Glasses are in your pocket.

Oh, yes, yes. You'd left them in there when you returned yesterday. You didn't eat anything for dinner, you hadn't been hungry for a while honestly. You chalked it up to demon biology. The water ran, walking you through the routine. Your eyes didn't leave the flowing pale liquid, slipping on the glasses as soon as you dried your face. The towel was white, a little light grey in some parts, and almost... flaky? The texture was atrocious, that much you were certain. You'd have to get a new one later.

The delivery was still at the door, turning tune to rhythmic swing. Perception dulled from the overalertness of waking, evidently - but you were dressed and presentable now, so it was time to answer the door. You paced your way down the halls, sparing a glance to the few yet present unclean dishes sitting in the sink. You'd clean them later - you liked cleaning dishes, the overpungent scent of pure soap and cleaning chemicals, the running water sliding into the crevices, coating the dish methodically. You had to wear gloves though, you couldn't stand food on your hands. Or just about anything unclean, really, as you instinctively slipped a sleeve over your hand and turned the lock and handle. The knocking stopped immediately as you did. Strange. You opened the door.