063y's Hidden Stories

Chapter 1: Escape (No.01)

The alarm shrieks throughout
the base, disturbing the
pristine silence of the night.

"ALERT. DESERTER DETECTED.
CAPTURE ALIVE IF POSSIBLE."

I hear the commander's voice
murmuring from the comms
device I stole and know they're
talking about me. But just as
I peek my head around the
corner to see what's what,
a searchlight grazes my cheek.

Crap.

In front of me stand massive
mechanical bodies twice the
size of a human. Their eyes
gleam ominously in the night
as they sweep the area for
prey. As I look, another
appears. Then another. Then
another. While they amass,
I creep forward as slowly as
possible so as not to catch
their attention.

So how did all this happen?
That's easy: because of the
Flowers. They appeared out of
the blue one day and stole
all of our happy lives away.
My wife and I, we had a son,
but... God, he was so young.

I volunteered to fight the
Flowers in an attempt to find
some kind of revenge, but
humanity still hasn't found
the key to victory. My wife's
been in low spirits lately—
she's clearly exhausted by all
the fighting—and I worry I may
end up losing her at this rate.
So that's why I decided to
conduct my own survey of the
Flowers and find a way out of
this no-win scenario.

As I delved into the depths
of the base, I managed to
download reams of data from a
computer in a classified area.
It was an incredible risky
move, but it ended up being
more than worth it; hidden in
all that data was the location
of something called the Flower
Den, which is the enemy's main
base. It was the kind of intel
that could change everything.

But before I could even process
what I'd found, I tripped an
alarm and had to make a break
for it. I spent so much time
hiding in the shadows as I made
my way inch by agonizing inch
toward the exit. And now, an
eternity later, I find myself
so very close to my goal.

I reach up and touch my pocket
to make sure the downloaded
information is still there.
The moment I do, a brilliant
white light washes over me.

"DESERTER LOCATED."

The voice is cold, and it
grows louder as its mechanical
owner moves toward my position.
I can't let them catch me here;
if they do, all of this will
have been for nothing.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON.
LIE ON THE GROUND."

Squinting under the light,
I put my fingers on the grip
of my greatsword. "All right,
big fella, no need to get your
panties in a twist. I'm not
going to fight back."

I toss my weapon, which
clatters to the floor. "There.
I'm unarmed. We good here?"

"APPREHENDING TARGET."

The machine moves forward,
ready to subdue me, but I have
a surprise in store. Before it
can grab me, I slip though its
legs and heave myself up and
onto its back, then yank the
cover off the base of its neck
and jam my device into the
waiting socket.

"MALWARE DETECTED.
COMMENCING FORCED SHUTDOWN."

See, my sword wasn't my only
weapon—I'd also packed a self-
replicating virus just in case.
As soon as the machine grinds
to a halt, I pick up my sword
and run as fast as my legs can
carry me toward the location
of the Flower Den.

I'm going to end this war.

I'm going to end it tonight.

I will never lose anyone
I care about ever again.

Chapter 2: Exploration (No.02)

My journey to the Flower Den
continues. It's a long trek,
but I just put my head down,
follow the stolen map data in
my device, and try to trust
that I know what I'm doing.

From everything I can tell,
the army actually brought the
den under our control some
time ago, but command didn't
send anyone in to investigate.
That strikes me as strange,
considering it would be the
perfect time to learn how the
Flowers live, so I intend to
find out for myself.

As night fades and morning
comes, I arrive at my
destination and find corpses
scattered throughout the area—
most likely the soldiers who
were first sent in to take the
place. But aside from signs of
an old battle, what catches my
attention is the building that
stretches into the air almost
beyond where I can see. Though
weathered and grungy, there's
a strangely majestic air about
the place, and I try to tread
lightly as I slip inside through
a shattered door.

The building is dim inside,
and large enough that I can't
see the ends of the rooms.
The walls are sturdy, their
faces lush with vines. As I
make my way further in, the
only light comes from small
streams of morning sunshine
that filter in through broken
windows. The hallway is a
never-ending stream of
shattered glass, splintered
wood, and ruble. But then...

"PLEASE. PLEASE."

I hear a woman's voice—
barely a whisper.

"Hello?" I ask.
"Is someone there?"

The only response I get from
the darkness is silence. As I
carefully proceed forward,
the far end of the building
finally comes into view.

"MERCY."

The next voice is male.
Multiple survivors, maybe?
I scan my surroundings,
looking for human forms,
when suddenly...

"Okay, what the hell?"

Resting at the far wall are a
series of tiny Flower sprouts.
The faces in the juvenile
petals distort in agony as they
attempt to speak to me.

"SALVATION."

Several voices speak at once.
I know this is what happens to
people who are consumed by
Flowers—they become a part of
the whole, unable to express
their own will any longer.

"They aren't human anymore,"
I tell myself. "They're not human,
dammit. They're Flowers."

The sprouts lower their petals
to reveal a series of twisted
faces. The way they droop
toward the ground gives the
impression they're praying.

"MOTHER. SAVE US, MOTHER."

After a moment, I realize the
Things actually are praying.
The subject of their reverence
is a dilapidated altar upon
which rests a grand portrait.
It's dirty enough that I can't
tell what kind of person it's
supposed to show, but it makes
my heart beat in my chest for
a reason I can't explain.

Why do I feel this way?

But no one is there to answer
my question, and the only
response is the continued
whisper of frantic prayers.

Chapter 3: Elimination (No.03)

"AHH. AHH. EVERYONE IS DEAD."

In the dingy building, the
smallest Flower sniffles.
A medium-sized one speaks
to soothe it.

"ALL IS WELL, LITTLE ONE.
THE MOTHER WILL SAVE US."

"THE MOTHER?
SHE WHO CREATED US?"

Voices of prayer fill the
building anew. How eerie it
sounds. How horrific. The ones
who stole happiness from me
and my family have no right to
look for salvation.

"NO. NO. NO."

I approach silently from
behind, cutting down the young
Flowers with faces. I kick
their remains aside and
approach the altar, staring
at the dirty portrait atop it.

"Hmm?"

I spy a book fallen behind the
altar. Someone's diary. It's
tattered, the writing faded
in places, but some pages
are still legible.

"A Flower...religion?"

I'd heard about such things
before. People believed the
Flowers would save the world,
and so began to worship them.
It seems I had found one of
their temples.

I carefully turn the pages so
as not to tear the fragile
paper. For a time, those who
worshipped the Flowers took
in young Flowers and lived
alongside them in this place.
But they were all eaten in the
end, leaving behind only a
mass of Flowers to continue a
meaningless prayer without end.

As my eyes continue to scan
the diary, I spot the word
"portrait." My hurried hands
come to a stop and I read,
transfixed.

That portrait was apparently
one of the religion's symbols,
one as revered and important
as the Flowers themselves.
But why did they find it
so precious?

I find my answer on the final
page. The people in the
portrait were the ones charge
of Flower research—the ones
who brought those monsters
into the world. Their names...

"No. I don't believe this.
It's impossible."

I walk up to the altar and
wipe away as much of the dirt
as possible. Faces slowly
appear from beneath the grime.
I'm greeted with cold, tense
expressions. Though the air
about her is different, she
looks exactly like HER.

I reel, staggering to keep
myself upright. As my hand
comes to rest on the frame,
I hear something fall.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

This building is a ruin; not
surprising that it's falling
apart. But as I look to the
ceiling, I see something
writhing in the dark.

Those are...

I first thought the ceiling
was covered in vines, but I
was mistaken. Instead, an
infinite number of juvenile
Flowers have tangled together
to create a roof.

The rush me as one, crying out
in voices of madness. I cut
them down as I run, barely
escaping with my life. But it
was all worth it, for I now
have evidence for the theory
that Flowers are sentient.
This data will be a huge boon
to our research—it might even
be the thread that finally
leads to use eliminating them
once and for all.

And yet, even knowing this,
I set fire to the church,
burning the Flowers and
erasing the portrait from
existence. The crimson flames
howl in the billowing wind.
They swallow the building
whole, reducing everything
within to ash and bone.

Chapter 4: Erase (No.04)

Once I burn the church, I set
off on the long road back to
the base where my wife is
waiting, arriving after the
sun has set.

I can't get caught. I can't.
They're still after me because
I'm technically a deserter.
Cautious of my surroundings,
I creep back to our room.

"You're back!"

She's been waiting for me
the entire time, and looks
exhausted as she leaps from
her chair.

"We need to get out of here,"
I reply. She's bewildered,
but I don't wait for her to
start gathering our things.
I quickly pack the photo of
our son, followed by his
mementos. After that, I grab
some portable rations I'd
pilfered on a mission once,
just in case.

"Get out of here and
go where?"

"I don't know."

Her bewilderment grows
at my answer.

"You can't just vanish, then
reappear out of nowhere and
say we have to leave!"

I probably would have said
the same in her shoes.

"Okay. I'll keep this short,
but you have to listen."

I tell her what I saw in the
church. I tell her about the
bizarre Flower buds, the
altar, and the portrait.
The portrait of the woman who
looks exactly like my wife—
the one they call "Mother."

"Are you sure you weren't
dreaming?" my wife asks
quietly. "I mean, that's
just not possible."

She's right. She fights
against the Flowers.
She can't be their mother.

"The superior officers are
hiding something."

They must have known what was
in that church-turned-Flower
den, yet they chose not to
send a survey team. I can't
understand why; all I feel is
an ominous sensation gripping
my entire being.

"Let's go."

I zip the bag shut and hold
out a hand. But then...

"He has admitted to coming
across top-secret information."

That's all she says in return.
A moment later, the door
swings open and commanders
fall into place behind her.

"I believe he found it
sometime between the evening
previous and this morning.
But erase two days' worth of
memories, just in case."

"Understood."

The commanders do as
she says and grab me.

"Wait! Why are you—!?"

Ordering around commanding
officers? Trying to erase my
memory? Before I can ask,
my mouth is gagged and I'm
pinned to the floor. I realize
my mistake then: It isn't the
superior officers who are
hiding something.

"This is for your sake,"
she whispers.

A cold rod stings to my neck
as a shock courses through my
body. In the instinctual fear
of death, my life begins
to flash before my eyes.

I see my wife's smile.

Her tear-streaked cheeks.

Her face colored with anger.

I thought I knew everything
about her, but the look on
her face right now is cold
and distant.

Just like the woman
in the portrait.

As the darkness swallows my
consciousness, I remain
oblivious to her intentions—
and her truth.

Chapter 5: Enthralling Love (No.05)

A prisoner who fights Flowers
for revenge... Wow! That story
was like a movie, huh? I mean,
he seeks revenge for love,
and he falls into the pits of
the abyss for love, too.

Human love sure is a strange
thing! No matter how strong
or smart someone is, love
dulls their judgment and clouds
their outlook. It's almost like
a poison that slowly eats them
away from the inside, right?

But what makes the man so
incredible is how he can get
drunk off that poison.
Some may think that foolish,
but I quite like it. Heck, you
know me—I ADORE pure
humans like him!

Chapter 6: The Talkative Man (No.06)

Hey there, friend. Up for some action today? I got the cards if you got the scratch!

How's that? You think I got nothing to bet 'cause I lost to 063y? Ha! You shoulda seen the run I went on once the chips were down! I was pullin' aces outta thin air left and right, and by the end of it...

Nah, I'm kidding. Guy took me to the freaking cleaners. Did that thing where he just stares at you without moving and you can't ever tell if his hand is great or crap. But listen, here's the weird thing: After he'd taken everything but my skivvies, he stood up, grabbed a single piece of paper off the table, and walked away. Didn't even look at all the other stuff I bet.

Weird guy, right? I mean, I know paper's valuable as hell to us prisoners, but you think he woulda...

Wait, seriously? He needs the paper so he can write a letter to the missus and cheer her up? Well, ain't that a hell of a thing. Almost brings a tear to your eye.

Chapter 7: Hymn 42: Become a Flower (No.07)

Become a flower and bless us
with your presence
(Careful and slow here!
Precise breathing!)

Bestow upon us the truth
(Make each note clear!)

We give you our hearts
for salvation
(No stomach falsetto.
I know it's hard!)

Become a flower and bless us
with your presence
(Harmony! Don't rush!)

Come to us as we come to you
(Big finale! Make ‘em cry!)

------------------------------

I'm really nervous about the
choir performance, but also
quite excited. We're meeting at
the rear entrance of the prayer
chapel at noon, then rehearsing
after. Remember where you're
supposed to stand, everyone!

Chapter 8: Diary Found in an Empty Room (No.08)

Battles with the Flowers grow
more int■nse by the day, and
the prisoners are ■■■■■■
morale. Those who fight with
partners ha■e higher stress
levels than those who are
single, and I beli■ve one
particular male prisoner
needs the most attention.
He seems do■■■e at first,
and is generally trusted by
the other prisoners, but he
often a■ts unpredictably in
situations where his wife
is in■■■ved.

How many more misconducts will
he have to go through before
he ■■ deemed an ■■■■■? Last
time, an err■r I disposed of
called me a "■■■■■," but I knew
that already. My superiors
t■■l me prisoners are all
expendable, but I ■■■■■
believe that. As I engage
directly with them, I get the
■■■■■ they have wills and
personalities of their own.
To dispose of them is ■■■■■■■■
work. I t■■■ my coworkers about
this, and they ■■■■ me such an
em■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ might see
me categorized as an error.
I couldn't t■■■ if they were
joking, or if ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■
■■■■■ ■■■■.

Is ■■■■■■■ fear and anxiety
another sign of being an error?
I'm ■■■■■■.

Chapter 9: Salvation's Teachings: Bloom (No.09)

Verse 1: Festival

The Flowers spoke thusly to
their five serving priests:
Believe in Us and serve Us.

That was the first day.

The priests, along with all
believers, promised to give
all to the Flowers, and thus
did pay a price most dear.

What came of it was this
place of worship.

Entrust all to Them.

Give all to Them.

Only then will we become
Flowers and reach a new world.

Chapter 10: Untitled (No.10)

How many letters have I written you now?

I thought I was out of things to say—that the well of
feelings I had to share with you had dried up like leaves
in autumn. And yet, I find I cannot put down my pen,
even as its ink runs low.

I know you would tell me to not force myself to write,
but I think leaving something in your name like this
is saving me. At the very least, it serves as proof that
I loved you, and that we once walked together.

We will be sent to different squadrons in the next
subjugation. I know this.

So if anything happens...just think of these letters as me.

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