The morning air in the Sink was sterile and still. Case climbed out of Milla's sleeping bag, his joints popping after a night on the hard floor. He glanced at the bed; Milla was still dead to the world, the matte-black stealth suit looking like a dark shadow draped over the blankets. Near the Sink's central personality unit, Jacob was slumped in a chair, snoring softly with his rifle cradled in his arms.
Case didn't bother waking them. He stepped out onto the balcony, looking toward the northern horizon. The heavy lifting was yet to come; the infrastructures and modules for the Sink were locked away in the northern zone behind layers of automated security and Mobius's influence.
Skipping breakfast, Case headed to the elevator and descended into the Think Tank.
When he entered the Think Tank, the usual madness was in full swing. The brain-bots were all in their customary positions. Klein sat atop the middle console, his monitors flickering with erratic data streams. Borous was stationed at the right-hand console, muttering to himself about genetic purity, while 8 hovered silently above on the balcony.
Zero sat to the left, twitching as he recalibrated his screen. Above Zero, Dala was moving and jittering in front of the door to her room, her sensors seemingly locked onto a frequency only she could hear and her screen pointed to the room.
"Oh, yes, yes," Dala whispered, her voice somehow amplified with an unsettling, resonant volume that filled every corner of the sterile chamber.
A heavy breath rolled through the chamber, loud enough to carry past the distance between him and her, followed by another that broke halfway into a strained sound. The faint creak of a bed came next—springs protesting—then the unmistakable slap of skin meeting skin, rhythmic, sloppy and wet enough that Case's mind recoiled before it could even finish processing it.
This wasn't equipment noise.
This was people.
And that was absolutely not Dala's voice.
Case stopped dead. His hand clenched around the strap of his armor as the sounds continued—too loud, too clear, too freaky, filling the room despite walls, doors, and whatever shielding the Think Tank thought was sufficient. Even the Sink's constant hum couldn't smother it. Then a voice carried through, sensual breaking between breaths.
"…Markus—don't—ah—don't stop… just—mm—like that…"
Case's stomach dropped.
Oh.
Oh no.
So that's where Amelia had gone. Not upstairs. Not in the village. She was behind that door—and Dala wasn't just present. She was watching. Close enough that nothing was being spared. Recording it all, no doubt, cataloging every sound and reaction as "biological response to stimulation."
The noise only grew worse—louder, messier, overlapping—bed creaking harder now, breaths turning sharp and uncontrolled. The walls seemed to carry it, the whole facility complicit in broadcasting something that very clearly was not meant to be shared. Case didn't need to see it.
His mind filled in the gaps anyway: Dala's monitors glowing, lenses fixed and attentive, her synthetic voice likely murmuring observations while Amelia and Markus were very much not attempting to be quiet.
"Nope," Case muttered hoarsely, already backing away. "I am not part of this experiment."
"WAIT, LOBOTOMITE!" Klein shouted, genuinely offended.
Case was already gone. He stepped into the elevator and slammed the control, staring straight ahead as the doors slid shut—cutting off the noise mid-breath, mid-motion, mid-whatever Dala was enthusiastically documenting.
The lift began to rise.
Case exhaled slowly.
He'd come back later.
When the Sink was quiet.
Very quiet.
Case reached the main level, the Sink's silence finally washing over him like a cold shower. He lingered by the elevator, exhaling slowly, trying to purge the last few minutes of noise from his head.
Focus, he told himself.
Jacob was awake by the time Case stepped into the main room, pushing himself upright and rubbing at his eyes.
"You're back early," he said. "Klein give you the codes?"
"Nope," Case replied. "But I did walk in on something I really didn't need to experience."
Jacob blinked once. "What—Amelia and Markus ended up in a threesome with one of the Think Tank?"
He paused for half a second, then nodded to himself.
Case stared. "Wait. You knew?"
Jacob shrugged, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. "Amelia went down to see Dala, right? Then she called Markus not long after." He snorted softly. "You put those two in the same room with that audience? Yeah. The outcome was kind of inevitable."
"That's not—" Case stopped, then exhaled. "I heard things. Through the fucking thick-ass walls."
"Mm," Jacob said, completely unapologetic. "Told you it wouldn't stay quiet."
Case just looked at him.
Jacob leaned back, unfazed. "You told Dala Amelia fits the bill for her observation, correction, anatomic observation. She shows up, Markus follows—after that?" He spread his hands. "Chain reaction. Case, it's expected." He glanced at Case. "I've been in the Rangers longer than you. And despite the whole motherly-act thing Amelia puts on?" A corner of his mouth twitched. "She and Markus are… freaky, to say the least."
"…What?"
Jacob tilted his head. "What's Dala best at?"
"Medicine," Case said after a beat. "Biology, I guess."
"Exactly." Jacob nodded. "Now imagine that brain getting a hands-on anatomy lesson after not seeing humans for centuries, well, a… normal human. Don't know who started it—maybe one of them suggested 'studying human anatomy,' and 'roleplaying,' Markus tagged along, and then?" He shrugged. "One thing leads to another. Bam. This morning happened."
Case sighed. "It's just… something."
The Courier barely had to move for Dala to get intrigued. Now imagine the suggestion being something else entirely. Case could picture how it spiraled—Amelia insisting it was just study, just observation, right up until she called Markus over the radio. One plus one, curiosity plus opportunity.
After that, it probably escalated on its own.
That was just how it went.
= Three Hours Later =
"Ah, Case, good morning," Amelia greeted him, entirely nonchalant.
Case was halfway through a bowl of stew—potato stew he'd picked up from Higgs' village, Jack's cooking. It was good. Comforting, even. Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing to scrub the memory of the morning from his head.
Markus appeared behind her a moment later.
Case noticed it immediately. Amelia looked… refreshed. Too refreshed. Markus somehow looked brighter too—lighter, like he'd slept better than anyone had a right to.
Case kept eating.
Then Jacob broke in.
He tried not to, but failed spectacularly. The laugh burst out of him—loud, sharp, and entirely uncontained. Case stiffened, heat creeping up his neck. He felt like a kid caught somewhere he definitely wasn't supposed to be. He hated that he was blushing.
Something clicked.
Amelia's eyes flicked between them. Her expression froze—then sharpened.
"Wait," she said slowly. "The Lobotomite was you?"
Jacob completely lost it.
The laughter doubled over, echoing through the Sink, while Case focused very hard on his stew and seriously reconsidered every life choice that had led him here.
"Wait—wait, hold on," Markus cut in quickly. "This is all a misunderstanding."
Case didn't look up. "Look," he muttered, stirring the stew a little harder than necessary, "however you want to explain it, Dala really should've closed the two-thousand-psi blast door and done her observing from inside." He paused, then added flatly, "You both have your moments. I'd just prefer the two of you stay… quieter."
Jacob snorted again.
Case kept eating.
When the bowl was finally empty, he washed the last of the stew down with a long gulp of water and set it aside. His attention drifted back to the Think Tank—mentally ticking through the boxes of who he still needed to win over.
Dala was checked. So were the others.
Eight was the only one left who wasn't on his side.
Still, the thought nagged at him. He couldn't help but wonder if Dala had… incorporated something extra into her observations.
"Still," Case said slowly, "do you think Dala's going to want another observation?"
Markus, entirely unfazed by the question—or the morning—answered without hesitation. "Yes."
Case sighed. "Great. That just leaves Eight." He shook his head. "Not sure how I'm supposed to convince that one, though."
He leaned back slightly.
Jacob chimed in, deadpan. "What—three to four?"
"No. No, not that," Case snapped, already pressing the elevator control. "I mean—look—it's complicated."
The doors slid shut.
Behind him, Jacob's laughter echoed through the Sink.