Entity 73 : "Abyssal Ooze/Kirai”

Name: "Abyssal Ooze/Kirai”
Author: Spectre48
Rating: 40/42
Created at: Sun Oct 27 2024

“Yeah man, I've never seen anything like it- no matter what we throw at this stuff it just seems to take it! Its just uncanny really— WHOA HEY WATCH WHERE YOU'RE—”

Clink
SPLASH!!
Now you've really gone and done it, haven't you? Of all the days to miss an untied shoelace, it just had to be on the day you were assigned to perform testing on Abyssal Ooze.
You look down at your ruined M.E.G. lab coat, completely splattered with the infectious substance. There's no point in removing it. The black slime has already absorbed into your hands like water into cracked desert ground.
You stare into the deep swirling mass of black. Thoughts race through your head, as you reflect on your fleeting life. How could you be so stupid?
You contemplate your dwindling future as you sit in the steadily expanding puddle of inky sludge, and you debate whether or not to accept your fate. Perhaps it's best to go out on your own terms. To simply open the door to the hazardous materials vault, and grab a single bottle of Cashew Water. To take a few simple swigs of the enigmatic beverage, and go out with a bang.
Or perhaps, you needn't give up on hope just yet.
You make your decision.
You stumble out of the lab into the pristine hallways of M.E.G. Base Alpha.
Such a shame it would be to stain these hallways red with wretched flesh.
You discard the thought. Though you feel disdain for placing the poor base janitor in such a precarious position, duty always comes first. You at least know that much.
Shakily composing yourself, you begin a brisk walk to the hazardous materials vault, perhaps the last one you'll ever take. You build your resolve as you continue your mission, avoiding all distractions on the short trek. You don't have time for goodbyes. Your friends will understand.
It isn't long until you arrive at the ominous door to the object storage department. The large black letters spelling "restricted area, keep out!" may have kept you out in the past, but now? It's just a means to an end. You swipe your keycard, and the door unlocks.
You stare at the inviting abyss of the darkened room. It's almost suffocating.
Maybe you shouldn't do this. Go back to the lab, try to find another solution.
No. It's too late for that now. The infection will only spread from here, and you've already wasted enough time. You shut the door behind you, and turn on the lights. It doesn't take long for you to find the shelf of Cashew water— it's hard to miss, being surrounded by enough reality fresheners to make a Smiler melt into a mere puddle. You grab a bottle, and unscrew the cap. It smells nauseating.
You take one last look around the room. Is this really where you want to breathe your last? The floor of a dingy storage room?
"I lost the permission to care once I spilt that vial."
You raise the stainless steel bottle to your lips. The putrid aroma of the Cashew Water makes you want to vomit. You pinch your nose, and tilt back your head.
"Here goes… One…"
"Two…"
"Three."
Just as you begin to tilt the bottle upward, you feel yourself freeze. You refuse to go out like this. To die with the absolute minimum amount of dignity. To die without even having tried to fight for your life.
Doesn't the M.E.G. keep records for this sort of thing? We have our database, sure, but not everything is included in there. Surely I can find something of use, right?
You screw the cap back onto the bottle of Cashew water, feeling a new sense of invigoration. Despite the black lines creeping along your veins, you feel great. Energized. Prepared.
You leave the hazardous materials vault, and head across the hall to the classified records department.

• Hazard: Abyssal Ooze
• Infection Patterns
• "Kirai"
• Behavior Patterns
• Entity Biology
• Maintanance
• Encounter Protocol

Entity 73's liquid state, colloquially referred to as "Abyssal Ooze," is a fairly common substance that can be found in various places scattered across the Backrooms. The "ooze" in question is black in color, with a thick, viscous texture, similar to molasses. Most often, the ooze can be found leaking from wallpaper within indoor levels, and pooled in puddles or lakes in natural ones.

On its own, the substance possesses no special qualities or dangers, outside of being incredibly difficult to dispose of. The only time an agent should pay it any mind is if it comes into contact with human skin. For more information, see files "Infection Patterns" and "Encounter Protocol."

CONCORD ENTITY CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM

Upon completion of the infection process, the host body will be completely overwritten by that of Entity 73's complete manifestation: a being identifying itself as "Kirai." While slight deviations have been noted over time, Kirai is most consistently seen taking the form of a lean, androgynous humanoid. Its eyes glow with a dim, white light, and are the only part of its body not seeming to be made of Abyssal Ooze. Its body is semi-absorbent, and constantly ripples with motion on its exterior. More refined instances of Kirai can often be spotted manipulating this substance into mock forms of conventional clothing, in order to conceal the majority of its mass. It has been shown to frequently alter this body mass at will, ranging from manifesting additional tendril-like appendages, to expanding its body to push itself through permeable surfaces.

Kirai is frequently described as well-spoken and charismatic, and will often use these traits to attempt conversation with passersby. Despite this, encountering Kirai in its humanoid form is a rather uncommon occurrence. The entity's motivations are currently unknown, making this isolationist behavior a blessing in disguise.

Since behavior and memory are identical between instances of Entity 73, it is largely assumed that Kirai possesses some sort of a hive mind connection with its manifestations. This being said, instances of Entity 73 have only been observed one at a time, even across levels. If an individual should come into contact with Abyssal Ooze while Kirai is already active, their infection process will simply be paused until the current host expires.
While in possession of a host, Kirai tends to wander a variety of Levels, making it extremely hard to consistently track. However, there are a few telltale signs one can observe in any given environment that often align with the nearby presence of Entity 73. A list of currently documented "tells" is provided below, ordered from least to most likely in accordance with Kirai's presence.
If encountered, Kirai has been known to occasionally grant certain favors to those who solicit it, with a debt to be repaid at a future time. Due to the M.E.G.'s extensive backlog of malicious interactions with other "deal maker" entities, all forms of interaction between Kirai and members of the M.E.G. are strictly prohibited. If Kirai decides you're worthy of approaching, do not engage with the entity. No matter what it may promise you, nothing good will come of it.
Kirai's manifested body is primarily composed of Abyssal Ooze. A notable feature of this substance is that its quantity and compatibility varies between hosts— some Kirai instances may be highly compatible with a host, and are able to retain control over their form over a prolonged timespan. The less compatible a host is, the higher the chance its biomass will destabilize and melt down, marking the end of both the host and the Kirai instance's lifespan. Currently, the factors that determine whether an individual is "compatible" are unknown. So far, research has pointed to this "compatibility" to being linked with the speed in which a host is fully possessed. On average, instances of Kirai will remain active for seven to fourteen days before completely deteriorating.
Instances of Kirai are highly prolific reality warpers, notably able to alter their surroundings at will on a significant scale. While Kirai normally keeps a low profile, it will occasionally be pinpointed as the source of various different large-scale "distortions" of local reality.
Entity 73 is mostly passive, save for its initial infection of a host body. In the unlikely event that a physical altercation takes place, Kirai instances typically do everything in their power to avoid unnecessary conflict. This being said, it is not advised to attempt to engage with this entity in either combat or conversation. As its motivations are still unclear, it is recommended to simply ignore any manifestations you may encounter.
As members of the M.E.G., our primary concern in regards to Entity 73 is to prevent infections whenever possible. Currently, numerous expeditions have been made into Abyssal Ooze hotspots, such as Level 8, in order to drain and patch up any possible reservoirs of the dangerous substance. Information campaigns to educate wanderers on the dangers of interacting with suspicious black goo are underway with moderate success. Research into the properties of this enigmatic substance is currently ongoing at bases Alpha and Gamma.

Abyssal Ooze

If you should encounter a puddle, patch, or vat of Abyssal Ooze on your expedition, do not fret! Execute these simple steps to the best of your ability.
AVOID the substance with a wide margin.
ADAPT your travel route to steer clear of the substance.
INFORM the nearest M.E.G. outpost of the location you spotted the hazard.

Kirai

If you should encounter an instance of "Kirai" on your expedition, execute these steps to the best of your ability instead.
AVOID interacting with the manifestation.
ADAPT your travel route to the nearest noclipping point.
VACATE the Level, and INFORM the nearest M.E.G. outpost of the encounter.

Falling back against the floor, you stare at the worthless file in front of you. You really thought this would be the key to your salvation, but no such luck. With nothing left to do, you drag yourself to your feet and begin to walk back to your desk.
You gaze down at your arms as you trudge back. You hadn't noticed due to your focus on the files, but your fingers have become rotten with gangrene up to the middle joints. The tips have begun to calcify with a hardened black substance, which feels fused to your skin. Sores open and burst as Abyssal Ooze runs down your hands, seeping onto the floor like maple syrup. You stare at it for a few minutes, before realization hits you.
SHIT! HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN LEAKING?
Your heart sinks as you turn around, witnessing the slick, greasy trail of black that leads into the classified records storage. You've got to do something. This much Abyssal Ooze is a massive biohazard, and you don't want your own ineptitude to hurt anyone else. As you attempt to make your way back into the room, you feel tug in your calves. Your tendons and ligaments burn with an icy fire as you experience the worst muscle contraction of your life. When you look down at your legs, you suddenly see why.
Your legs are covered up to the knees in black chitin that heralds your approaching fate. Moving is agonizing, but still possible. Despite feeling like your skin is peeling off like the layers of an onion, you press on. The distance to the door is only a few feet, but it feels like a mile.
Just a few more steps now. If you were going to die alone, at least let it mean something.
You slump into the door, jamming your useless hand into the door lever. You let your body weight push down on the handle, and you fall into the darkened room. Your heart is racing as you scan the area for a spray bottle, a mop, a roll of paper towels— anything to alleviate the steady stream of fluid leaking out of your body. You see where you left Entity 73's file. It lies only a few steps away, in a steadily expanding puddle of black.
Another round of cramps sends shocks of pain up your spine. You don't even have time to ponder the implications of this before you're on the ground. Your head smashes into the concrete floor of the facility with a sickening squelch, and your brain screams with stimuli as the impact threatens to give you an early exit.
No such luck.
You retch onto the floor, unable to force your body to remove yourself from the puddle of your own sickness. Your vision starts becoming hazy as tiny pinpricks of blackness start clouding around the edges of your view. You look towards the floor, only to realize that you weren't lying in a pool of your own vomit. You were lying in a pool of the very same black substance that has become the bane of your dwindling existence.
More pockets of Ooze burst from your fractured skull, and the viscous liquid begins to seep into your eyes. You can't move your arms to wipe your face, as they've been completely encased in the carapace quickly forming around you.
As your eyes drift towards the ceiling, you notice something out of the corner of your eye— a simple poster on the wall.
You feel your consciousness sink into a formless void.