The Deep End Sandbox
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THE FIRST TALE:

"Hello, Mrs. Jones. How're you doing?"

"I am very happy and very excited."

"Sarcasm isn't really the best way to conduct interviews, Mrs. Jones."

"Yeah- whatever, just get on with it, doc."

"…Alright. What were you doing on February 2nd, 2020?"


Sometimes Hestia Jones wondered how she got here.

Working under Amos Ali had been quite fun, and working with him and all the "Safe" class objects meant that she wasn't really under the risk of getting decapitated, or killed in any gruesome way. Personally, dying while sleeping at the age of eighty felt like the best way to go.

But Doctor Ali had decided to send her to Area-02 for reasons she did now know, and now she had to deal with Keter class objects attempting to break out every half-hour and attempt to survive the numerous attempts on her life.

"Alright… pressure valve seems good." She marked a box on her clipboard, and raised her voice so it could reach the catwalk above. "Pressure valve six is good! Moving to seven." They assented, and she walked a few feet forward.

"Uh, ma'am? Pressure valve seven looks… weird."

She glanced appraisingly at the valve, then at the man who had been following her around for the past few hours. "Yeah- the pipes seem a little twisted." She bent down to look at them more closely. "I think we've got it, tell the people above."

The radio crackled behind her as she poked and prodded