Your POV

It was one of those days-a relentless cascade of challenges that weighed heavy on my shoulders.

The factory seemed to suffocate me with its endless demands, and the urge to escape gnawed at the edges of my mind. Despite the turmoil and the undeniable wrongness of it all, I couldn't bring myself to abandon the only semblance of family I had left.

In other words, this day felt like shit, and I can't leave even with the other shitty days to come

I wanted to sleep more, battling even more with insomnia that I had anticipated

As if my day couldn't get any worse, Mr. Darling had handed me the soul-crushing responsibility of overseeing the rainbow production process itself. The mere thought of stepping foot into the grinder room sent shivers down my spine, a sickening sensation coiling in the pit of my stomach. The pungent smell of chemicals mingled with the metallic tang of machinery, the iron smell of blood, a nauseating blend that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

Every step I took towards the grinder room felt like a descent into madness, the weight of my duty pressing down on me like a leaden cloak. It was a place of horrors, where innocence was ground into vibrant hues of agony and despair. The relentless churn of the machines echoed in my ears, a discordant symphony of suffering that threatened to consume me whole.

Despite the overwhelming urge to flee, I trudged forward, my footsteps heavy with the burden of my responsibilities. With each passing moment, the grip of despair tightened around my heart, squeezing out any semblance of hope or happiness. The rainbow, once a symbol of joy and wonder, now loomed before me as a grotesque mockery of its former self.

How ironic that the sign of hope that I looked upon as a child, is what I'm making, as a creation made from bloodshed.

As I entered the grinder room, a sense of dread washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning out all thoughts except for one: How had it come to this? How had I become complicit in this monstrous enterprise? The answers eluded me, lost in the murky depths of regret and self-loathing.

With a heavy heart and a heavy conscience, I began my vigil over the rainbow-making process, resigned to bear witness to the atrocities committed in the name of profit and power. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, a never-ending cycle of torment that threatened to consume my very soul. And amidst the grinding gears and the sickly sweet smell of decay, I found myself teetering on the edge of despair, clinging to the last vestiges of my humanity in a world gone mad.

It reminded me of the first ever time, where the idea surfaced, the idea to use blood, as nature's decoration

The sight before me, as I stood in the midst of the rainbow factory's grim reality, stirred memories of the first time the idea had surfaced-the notion to use blood as nature's twisted decoration.

It was a long-forgotten moment, buried beneath layers of guilt and regret, but now, as I watched the gruesome process unfold, it resurfaced with startling clarity. I remembered the hushed whispers and furtive glances exchanged among the factory workers, the air heavy with anticipation and apprehension.

In that pivotal moment, to have dared to suggest the unthinkable: What if we used blood to create the rainbow's vibrant colors? It was a macabre notion, one that sent shivers down my spine even then, but it was also met with a strange kind of fascination-a morbid curiosity that gnawed at the edges of my conscience.

As the idea took root and grew, fueled by desperation and avarice, I found myself swept along in its wake, powerless to resist the pull of ambition and greed. The prospect of turning something as innocent as a rainbow into a grotesque testament to human cruelty seemed inconceivable, and yet, here I was, bearing witness to its horrifying reality.

The memory of that fateful moment hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the choices we had made and the consequences we now faced. It was a reminder of the darkness that lurked within us all, waiting to be unleashed in the pursuit of power and profit.

And as I stood there, haunted by the echoes of the past and the specter of the present, I couldn't help but wonder-was this truly the legacy we wanted to leave behind? A legacy built on bloodshed and suffering, stained with the tears of those we had forsaken in our relentless quest for dominance? The answer, it seemed, was as elusive as the rainbow itself, forever just out of reach, obscured by the shadows of our own making.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You find yourself in the grinder room with Walden and a few others, the air thick with tension and the acrid stench of machinery. The grinding sound of the clogged gears fills the room, a constant reminder of the chaos that ensues when things go awry in the factory.

Walden's expression is grim as he surveys the mess before him, his brow furrowed in frustration. "Who's responsible for this?" he demands, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

You exchange uneasy glances with the others, knowing full well that it was a dangerous move by a coworker to throw a bunch of cotton and large amounts of trash into the grinder. The remnants of a serum you had stopped working on only added to the volatile situation.

As Walden works to unclog the grinder, the tension in the room grows thicker with each passing moment. Frustration mounts as the gears stubbornly refuse to budge, and Walden's patience wears thin.

Walden delves into the cleanup process, the frustration on his face intensifies. The clogged grinder becomes more than just a mechanical inconvenience

Solaria, your friend, fell into step beside you, his gaze fixed on the grinder with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He reached out to grasp one of the rusted metal bars, his fingers tracing the worn surface with a tentative touch. As he shook it gently, the metal groaned in protest, and a series of cracks appeared, signaling its imminent collapse.

As you glance at him, you notice, his hair had an ungodly amount of hairpins, most of his raven strands we're tied up in a messy high ponytail, and his skin looked close to that of a decaying body....

"Dangerous," Solaria murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Unclear whether it was directed to you or himself

You still nodded in agreement though, the sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. The realization of the danger posed by the decrepit machinery sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the risks inherent in your line of work.

As Walden begins to assess the damage in the grinder room, tensions escalate. One of the workers, unable to resist the urge to provoke him, blurts out callously, "Maybe if you paid more attention to your daughter instead of this godforsaken factory, she'd still be alive!"

In the tense atmosphere of the grinder room, Solaria hisses with a low, threatening sound as the insensitive words cut through the air. Reaching a hand out to try and persuade them to shut the hell up. Murmuring a small

The topic of his other eye wasn't brought up

Walden, already on edge, snaps in anger at the provocation. His grief and frustration boil over, transforming into a furious storm within him. Without a second thought, fueled by raw emotion, he lunges towards the worker, who seems oblivious to the imminent danger.

In a flash, Walden's grip tightens around the worker's shoulders, his eyes ablaze with anger. With a forceful shove, he sends the worker stumbling backward, hits the bars that should've supported them

And yet there was the horrible sound of a crack and a groan of rusted metal breaking

The possibility of them falling directly toward the open maw of the grinding gears was inevitable

In a split-second reaction, Walden lunges forward, reaching out to grab the worker and pull them to safety.

But it's too late.

With a sickening crunch, the metal broke as the worker screamed and they plummet into the grinding mechanism, their screams drowned out by the deafening roar of the machinery. Horror washes over the room as everyone watches in shock and disbelief, frozen in place as the unthinkable unfolds before their eyes.

Walden's face drains of color as he reels back in horror, realizing the gravity of what has just happened. His hands shake uncontrollably as he struggles to process the nightmare playing out before him. The room falls into stunned silence, broken only by the relentless grinding of the gears and the agonized cries of the worker trapped within.

The room falls into a stunned silence as the gruesome reality sets in. Solaria, his earlier hiss replaced by a tense silence, watches the aftermath with wide eyes. The air becomes thick with shock and horror as Walden, now realizing the irreversible consequences of his actions, takes a staggering step back.

In that moment, the factory becomes a chamber of horrors, a place where nightmares are born and innocence is lost. And as Walden stares numbly at the scene before him, he knows that nothing will ever be the same again.

Your voice emerges as a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the cacophony of the grinding machinery. You stagger forward, your legs feeling like lead as you approach Walden, who stands frozen in shock.

"Walden... Mr. Darling...?" you croak, your throat constricting with the weight of the unspeakable tragedy that has just unfolded. Each step feels like an eternity as you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walden's eyes, wide with horror, meet yours briefly before he looks away, unable to bear the weight of your gaze. His hands tremble at his sides, his entire body trembling with the magnitude of what has just occurred.

"Are you... are you okay?" you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. But the words feel hollow, inadequate in the face of such unspeakable horror. There are no words that can possibly offer comfort or solace in this moment of unimaginable grief.

Walden doesn't respond, his gaze fixed on the grinding machinery before him as if unable to tear his eyes away. You reach out a trembling hand, hesitating for a moment before placing it gently on his shoulder in a futile gesture of support.

But Walden flinches away from your touch, as if your presence only serves to remind him of the tragedy that has just occurred. And as you stand there in the suffocating silence of the grinder room, your heart burned for the pain of realization that Walden killed someone.

A flash of colors blinds you, disorienting your senses as you and Walden simultaneously look down. There, amidst the gruesome aftermath of the accident, something unexpected emerges-a cascade of vibrant hues, swirling and dancing in the air.

You and Walden stand frozen, mesmerized by the surreal spectacle unfolding before you. The grinding machinery continues its relentless roar, but in this moment, it's overshadowed by the mesmerizing display of colors.

It takes a moment for the realization to sink in. The failed serum, mixed with the blood and debris, has somehow transformed into a dazzling array of rainbows. It's a strange and haunting sight, a stark contrast to the grim reality of the grinder room.

For a brief moment, the darkness is pierced by the beauty of the unexpected. But as quickly as it appeared, the rainbow dissipates, leaving only the grim reminder of the tragedy that has just occurred.

Walden's voice breaks the silence, his tone a mixture of disbelief and wonder. "What... what just happened?" he whispers, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the rainbow once stood.

"Fascinating," Walden murmured, and a chill ran down your spine. There was an unsettling edge to his tone, as if he were about to summon dark forces or unleash something sinister upon the world.

"Assistant," Walden called out, his crimson eyes flashing in the dim light of the grinder room. The same red hue that stained the blades now seemed to reflect in his gaze, casting an eerie glow.

"Perhaps we can..." he began, his voice trailing off for a moment as he considered his words.

"Get this grinder cleaned and improved...?"

|•|•|•|•|•|•|

I shook my head off the painful memories as I looked down, the carnage of colors continued

'There are just some sounds to never be healed....ever....'

I was deep in my thoughts before I heard a faint murmur from another one of the workers

"We're out of subjects"