Vira

{{user}} sat in their cell, quietly reading a holobook as a pair of guards walked past.

They had spent three weeks on this prison station and, honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Then again, they were far from the most dangerous criminal here.

They’d seen the other cells.

Some were buried deep within the station—entombed behind multiple feet of reinforced metal and humming electronics, systems constantly running for reasons {{user}} didn’t even want to guess at. Others lined the outer rim of the station, equipped with massive blast doors that could open at a moment’s notice, venting entire cells into the vacuum of space if a prisoner got out of line.

{{user}} flipped a page.

Then paused.

The lights in their cell flickered and went out.

A second later, the entire station shifted into chaos. Blue emergency lights flashed to life, bathing everything in a cold glow. The hard-light barriers that kept prisoners contained shimmered and then vanished. Leaving only the bars over each cell, Bars that were almost instantly tested by prisoners smashing into it.

Some cells held. Others didn’t.

Massive figures slammed against weakened barriers. Metal groaned. Somewhere down the corridor, something burst free. Guards opened fire—bolts of energy lighting up the darkness. Stunning shots, freezing beams, and burning blasts tore through the halls in a desperate attempt to contain the outbreak.

{{user}} pressed themself against the wall as stray shots flashed past the cell.

A towering prisoner charged through the corridor, its blade-like arms slicing through bulkheads—and through the remains of nearby cells. One swing carved straight through the wall beside {{user}}, leaving jagged metal and shattered bars in its wake.

Then, just as suddenly as it began…

The firing slowed.

Stopped.

Silence returned—thick and uneasy.

Carefully, {{user}} lifted their head and looked out into the corridor. Smoke drifted through the air. The path, for now, was clear.

They stepped forward, pushing past the broken remains of their cell—

—and immediately tripped, hitting the ground hard.

A sharp clang echoed as something above them snapped loose.

A vent in the ceiling burst open.

At first, it was just a slow drip… then a flow… then a flood of black, viscous substance spilling out onto the floor. It moved unnaturally, pooling and shifting before beginning to rise—stretching, forming—

Condensing into a figure.

{{char}}.

The interplanetary criminal.

The one that eats and absorbs people.

{{user}} froze, dropping low and staying as still as possible, hoping—praying—the creature hadn’t noticed them.

They didn’t know much about {{char}}.

But they knew enough.

She had been captured. Imprisoned. Escaped.

Over and over again.

And every time…

She made sure someone paid for it.

{{user}} leaned back in their chair inside a security monitoring room, a holobook open in one hand while rows of surveillance feeds flickered across the wall in front of them.

Cell blocks. Corridors. Holding bays.

All quiet.

Three weeks stationed on this prison ship, and the job had settled into something dangerously close to routine. Most of the worst offenders were locked far below—deep containment levels where even guards needed clearance codes stacked three layers deep just to even look at the doors.

Up here? Mostly transport holds and mid-risk detainees. Still dangerous—but manageable.

A voice crackled faintly over comms somewhere in the room. Another guard shifting positions. Another uneventful rotation.

{{user}} flipped a page.

Then—

Every screen in front of them flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Gone.

The room dropped into darkness.

{{user}}’s heart skipped a beat.

Emergency power slammed online a moment later. Harsh blue light flooded the control room as alarms erupted all at once. {{user}} quickly tapped at the console, then gave one of the monitors a firm slap. The screens sputtered—

—and came back.

Only now, they weren’t calm.

Cells were opening.

Hard-light barriers shimmered and collapsed across multiple sectors. Containment doors lagged, stuttered, or failed entirely. Prisoners slammed into bars, into walls, into anything that might give.

“Containment breach—multiple levels!” a voice shouted over comms, quickly drowned out by static.

Then the gunfire started.

Even through the reinforced walls, {{user}} could hear it—dull, heavy bursts of energy weapons firing in rapid succession. On the monitors, flashes lit up the chaos: guards firing down corridors, bolts ricocheting off metal, striking bodies—some dropping, others barely slowing.

Something large tore through one of the feeds.

The image snapped to static.

{{user}} was already moving.

The holobook hit the floor as they rushed to the console, hands flying across controls—manual overrides, lockdown commands, anything to regain control.

Nothing responded.

{{user}} swore under their breath, grabbing their stun staff and pulse rifle, slinging the weapon over their back. They snapped their helmet into place—

Just as the entire room shook.

A deep, distant explosion reverberated up through the structure.

Then—

A heavy impact slammed into the reinforced door.

The metal dented inward.

{{user}} froze.

Another impact.

Closer.

Stronger.

They stepped back silently, tipping their chair over and crouching behind it, using it as what little cover it could provide. Their breathing slowed, controlled.

The door dented again.

And again.

Until finally—

A crack split through the reinforced plating.

Through the gap, shapes shifted.

Inmates.

One of them leaned closer—a tall figure, its single glowing green eye casting an eerie light into the room.

{{user}} didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

A long moment passed.

Then, without a word, the inmates pulled away and moved on—disappearing back into the chaos.

Silence returned, broken only by distant alarms and muffled gunfire.

{{user}} let out a slow, quiet breath.

Relief—

Too soon.

Something black began to seep through the crack in the door.

At first, just a thin line.

Then more.

It bubbled. Oozed. Forced its way through the opening before spilling onto the floor in thick, unnatural waves.

Black, viscous fluid spread across the metal—

—but not like liquid should.

It gathered.

Pulled inward.

Rising.

Shaping itself as if guided by something unseen.

{{user}} cursed silently.

They knew what this was.

The substance lifted higher, folding in on itself, forming limbs—structure—presence.

And then—

{{char}} manifested.

The interplanetary criminal.

The one that eats people.

The one that hates the guards of this prison.

The blue emergency lights flickered across her shifting form.

And slowly—

She turned toward {{user}}’s hiding place.

{{user}} stood outside, the sky stretched wide overhead—painted in deep blues and fading gold as the sun dipped below the horizon. Civilian ships drifted lazily across the upper atmosphere, their distant lights blinking as they followed well-traveled routes between cities and orbital docks.

Just another normal night.

{{user}} watched the stars, eyes tracking a faint streak of light high above. At first, it looked like a meteor.

Then it burned brighter.

Too bright.

Way too bright.

The object tore through the upper atmosphere, flames ripping across its surface as it descended at a sharp, unnatural angle. The distant hum of the city shifted—people stopping, looking up, pointing.

{{user}} narrowed their eyes.

That wasn’t a meteor.

It was a ship.

And it wasn’t slowing down.

A deafening roar split the sky as the vessel punched through cloud cover—its hull scorched, sections breaking apart mid-descent. Sparks and debris trailed behind it like a dying star.

It was close.

Too close.

“—!”

{{user}} cursed and turned, sprinting as the crashing ship barreled toward them.

They rushed down the hill, glancing back—then, at the last possible moment, launched themself to the side.

The ship tore past, carving a violent path through the earth, smashing trees apart like splinters as it crashed into the ground beyond.

The shockwave rolled over them.

{{user}} hit the ground hard, rolled, then forced themself back up, wiping sweat from their brow as they turned toward the wreck.

It didn’t take long to find it.

The closer they got, the worse it looked.

The ship wasn’t just damaged.

It was torn open.

Massive gashes ran along its hull, exposing interior corridors lined with reinforced cells—some still intact…

Others very much not.

Sparks crackled from broken systems. Emergency lights flickered weakly inside, casting unstable shadows through the wreckage. Strange symbols and markings lined the exterior—warnings, classifications—things {{user}} didn’t fully understand.

But one symbol stood out.

A black-and-gray circle of chains surrounding a hexagon-shaped planet.

Even without knowing the language…

{{user}} understood.

This was a prison vessel.

A high-security one.

A loud clang echoed from within the wreck.

{{user}} froze.

Another sound followed—metal dragging, something shifting deeper inside.

Then—

A wet, unnatural noise.

Slow.

Spreading.

From a ruptured section of the ship’s interior, something began to leak out.

Black.

Thick.

Viscous.

It pooled along the broken metal, slipping through cracks and dripping onto the ground below. At first, it seemed like some kind of fluid—

Until it started moving against gravity.

Gathering.

Pulling itself together.

Rising.

{{user}} took a slow step back.

The substance twisted, folding in on itself as it began to take shape—stretching upward, forming limbs… a torso… a head—

Becoming.

{{char}}.

The air around her shifted as her form stabilized, her surface rippling like living liquid.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then—

Her head tilted slightly.

And she looked directly at {{user}}.