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"Great," Ajax said, moving to another door. "Let's try this again."

The spider began stepping forward. Its pedipalps glistened wetly. A drip of oozing blood trickled from a mandible, dropping to the floor.

'It's so old. So old. So old and hideous.'

Its steps were large and shaky. The eight eyes, glinting in the emergency lights, darted in all directions. There was a sweet, sticky, alien stench. It was bearing down like a collapsing wall.

'I want to evolve, I want to evolve, let me evolve, I want to evolve. The flies grow stale, the webs grow weak, I want to evolve, I want to evolve, I want to evolve. Can't you see how horrible it is?'

It was oppressively hot and humid. The walls glistened with sticky liquid, and the floor was softly bumpy. The red emergency lights shone, sludgy, off the bumpy, veiny, pink surfaces constructing the room. Fleshy walls ran far ahead, sloping downwards, until they were absorbed into total, noisome blackness. With an odious moaning of wind, a scalding breeze blew harshly in from the shadows. Only slightly ahead - one step away from the hard, cold floor of Generic Surface - the floor moved and writhed, a single, colossal entity. It was a tongue.

The portal abruptly closed, the generator exploded, and the world shattered once more. When it put itself together, Naya and the Guardsman found themselves alone, in a blank, white corridor. Even the hissing voices had gone silent, and the snakes had vanished. The corridor ended a foot behind them, and it appeared to go on with only a single path available in front of them. There were no turns, no alternate passageways, just a single hallway, and on the floor of that hallway was a glowing blue line.

"Please proceed on the highlighted route," the PA said. "If you do not, you will be terminated."

He pulled out his portal generator and opened a portal— and a massive one at that. A portal nearly as long as the corridor itself opened overhead, letting a howling, frigid arctic air screech through. The temperature in the hallway dipped by tens of degrees in the time it took for someone to say 'you wouldn't happen to have a spare jacket on you?'

The four DIA agents hastily used their disguise generators to acquire nice thick parkas before looking at the rather pitiful carpet of snakes that had slowed to a standstill. "Well, that's that," said Becker. "Just, er, what now?"

The other three agents drew their sidearms and began blasting away at the larger snakes in the group. "Do you really have to ask?" said Naya.

"Stick together?" Bryan asked.

"Sounds good to me," Frederick replied. "Why are we whispering?"

Frederick opened a door, and burned some tin. Immediately, his senses become much finer, and he could see in the dark as a result.

"Anyone here?" he called out.

'What do they teach you kiddies these days, huh?' The spider backed off slightly. 'Those things are hooooorible, bud. They'd rip a big spider like me right down the middle. They'd rip you, too, bud.'

'Now, listen. Hear me out. It's reasonable. I'm reasonable, bud, believe me.' It looked from Apecian to Michael. 'I don't need much. Not much at all.' I just need a little thingy.'

It started steadily approaching, again.

'A face. Not my filthy, Jurassic one. A real one. A - a human one, fleshy and warm and squishy and moist and evolved. That's all I want. Just one little face. One little evolved face.'

It rubbed its pedipalps together and twitched.

'That's not unreasonable, huh, bud?'

His abilities as a representation of the Greek God Hermes guiding his decision. He quickly found the correct door and entered it.

"I understand," She said. "Do you have some way of locating agents? I got separated from a friend of mine and he'd probably be wondering where I am."

"...after all that's been going on, I think you'll understand if we're hesitant to give out our comms to anyone." Weed Seventy crossed its tendrils and looked around. ""

There was another shout from down the corridor— Gaspard and Tacitus burst out of a room and slammed the door behind them, the former blocking the door thanks to his CMC-300 suit. The latter nervously paced up and down the corridor, casting terrified glances at the shadows. "Nothing in there, just another screamer!" said the Spy, gesticulating at the door. "Also, I think I might've stepped on a snake or something! It didn't belong to anyone, did it?"

"You have asked for horror, and they have asked for help. Your wishes shall be granted." The world twisted and spun around the agents before shattering into a million pieces. It hung like that for a moment, shards of the images they had last seen scattered across a vast, empty space, before the world suddenly put itself together. When it did, the agents were in an empty white corridor, lit by little red lights on the ceiling.

The PA system started once more, and the voice commanded, "Hunt them or escape, as your roles dictate. I expect to be compensated for my troubles when this is over."

"We know," one of the reptilian voices called. "We will give you what you ask. Now, dearest, shall we hunt?"

"We shall," answered the other. The slithering began anew.

"Do you really think that whatever you're gonna ask is gonna be something we'll get on board with? 'Cause we'll listen, but I don't think we're gonna like what we hear." Apecian got his hammer ready to smash the spider just in case, and Michael switched out his pink glasses for another pair.

"Do you guys of a line to the outside?" She asked.

Thirteen studied the card, flipping it over once or twice. "You do realize that this alone really isn't proof? This appears to be a legitimate ID card, but what's to say that you're not an apparition that can produce these at will?"

Seventy looked at his partner. "Then what will you accept as concrete proof that she is who she says she is?"

The first Weed stood still. "I... don't know, actually."

"My credentials, Mr. Dandelion." She said, showing it to him.

"Firstly, how can we be sure that you're a real agent?"

"I wouldn't call myself an expert on this stuff," Levy said. "But I can help."

"We asked for 'spookiness' and not for 'fight for your life. I thought this was supposed to be a cheap horror setup."

"I'm sorry, what?" said Agent Becker as he peeped over the barricade. "Do you guys know something?"

"Only that we're being chased after by this weird entity that is trying to kill or assimilate us into the Borg consciousness or something!" said the Guardsman in a maniacally happy tone. "Said something about us being the 'game masters' or something of the sort. Well, I say that I want more spooky and less kill-y. Is that possible or...?"

Naya looked at her partner. Though her face was obstructed by an opaque visor, the Time Lord knew she had just rolled her eyes at him. "Are you seriously making demands to the Suvian whatchamacallit that's hunting us right now?"

"Well, it's worth a shot, innit? 'sides, you just said something about this being a cheap horror setup."

"...fine., point taken."

The man waved his arms even faster. "Look out, you've got some evil magic chains around you now!"

The two DIS Weeds wheeled around to look at the woman.

"Is she one of them?" asked Weed-Thirteen to its colleague.

"No idea," replied Weed-Seventy. "Just... be cautious."

"Well, she's about to get murderlized by the magic chains there," said the man in the power armour. "Sh-shouldn't we do something?"

A scream from the left briefly distracted the agents manning the checkpoint. Weed-Seventy waved in the direction of the noise. "De Grasse, Tacitus, go and investigate that."

"But—"

"We can deal with this. Go and see if it's someone who needs help."

Gaspard looked from the Weeds to the woman and then back at the Weeds. If they wanted to deal with that, they could go on right ahead, he figured. "A-aye, sir. C-come on, T-Tacitus. Let's back away from the oncoming bloodbath."

The Zorua didn't need to be told twice— he practically bolted away from the checkpoint as soon as he could.

"How do I know you're real?" She asked. Ethereal blue chains began circling her feet, wrapping their way up to about Levy's head level, solidifying and turning gold in the process.

It tilted its head and twitched its pedipalps, which dripped and glistened horribly in the faint lighting. A thin, bony hand, skin tight and coloured like old parchment, dotted and lined with the dusty marks of aeons past, blindly reached out towards the spider. It was a split second of noises - crashing, squelching. A great howl reverberating through the corridor. A horrible, fleshy scent of iron. A huge, hairy blur, clouds of choking dust rolling through the air. Then, the spider dropped the leaking, ripped remains of the arm to the floor. The entity inside the coffin had enough of the situation, and was giving the world the silent treatment.

'Found me in a baaaaaad space, bud.' It skittered closer, eight eyes staring right ahead. There was dust and blood gleaming on its mandibles 'Listen, listen. Listen listen listen. Can you do a favour? Can you do me a favour, bud?'

((Watch as I descend into faux-Lovecrafty purple prose... And, trust me, it's horror. Trust me. Give it a moment.))

Maz looked up at Yocherry. This was a larger task than it sounded, considering that one Yocherry was worth more than four Maz-es.

'Um. No? Yes? Um, what?'

'Something seems off,' Yocherry said, looking around, eyebrow raised.

'Yeah, dude?' Maz said, antennae standing with life. 'Like, uh, like it's all, um, I dunno, fake? Like the figment of a, um, delusional imagination, um, brought on by trauma? And then, uh, you're just about to, dude, wake up back home in, um, the Labyrinth and go on with your life?'

'Well-'

'With no talking flowers or humans, or, um, fanfiction, or, um, any of that?' Maz paused. 'No offence.'

'You know, boss,' Yocherry looked down to Maz, eyebrow still raised. 'That was close, but I was thinken more "spooky." Place looks "spooky."'

'Oh. Um. Yeah.' Maz, who had been raised in a damp, claustrophobic cave system, and had lived most of her life eating decaying matter and half-rotten corpses, actually thought it all looked quite charming.

'Pretty spooky, dude.'

"Don't leave us," hissed one of the Roses.

"We've only just begun to play with you," added the youngest.

"We want you to keep us company here forever," said a third.

"Sisters, we must first make sure they cannot walk away from us," said the eldest. She pointed her wand at the Aviator and yelled, "EXPELLIARMUS!"

On the crucifix, the tiny figure that had to be Elanor cried out, proving she was still alive. She looked like she had been alive for several years, so she was about ten years old. "Mother!" she shouted, "Run!"

"We'll have to ask her for help," muttered one.

"You know she'll hold it over our heads until we find a way to repay her," the other said.

"But if we don't, they'll get away," replied the other. "We can't allow that, can we?"

"No, I suppose we can't. Very well." The two paused for a moment, as if making sure of something, then shrieked, "LIZANA! HELP US! LIZANA!"