Like A Fish In Black Water

The Blackwater Files

Dec 23, 2023

This is my submission for

’s joint-world project, The Blackwater Files. Numerous highly talented writers have contributed to the lore—and honestly, I haven’t read ANY of them. That’s a real shame for me because the hype around them has been extraordinary. Now that I’ve written something—I think I will be more at ease to read the other entries. Click the link above for the full compendium!

This is…not my usual fare. It’s a little darker and more disturbing. I don’t normally put trigger warnings, but this was discomfiting for me to write so I figure it might be discomfiting for you to read. Consider yourself warned: This story may contain elements some find disturbing.

Those of you who do read on—I hope you enjoy.

Tracy Shields wished she didn’t have to go back. But, once again, she found herself waiting in the meeting room of the Maximum Security prison, waiting for the most notorious serial killer of the century.

She fiddled with her pen, pretended to re-read the documents, until she heard the footsteps, and the click of the door.

She felt the urge to instinctively stand, and forced herself not to. He’s a killer. He doesn’t deserve respect.

The man was bald—he had already been shaved in anticipation of his execution. He had a gaunt face, his eyes were…unnerving. He had a flat-effect, he never showed any expression, any hint of emotion or empathy. Monster, Tracy thought.

“Mr. Henry Prouse? As you know you were scheduled for the electric-chair tomorrow morning. There has been a last-minute, uh, filing. The Elysium Corporation has filed an Amicus brief requesting your body be donated to science and they request your participation in a clinical trial. This is completely voluntary, and it cannot be imposed upon you. If you have no objections, you can sign this document here,” Tracy slid the papers across the table, “Otherwise I am here to ensure you understand the request and your rights, and I can answer any questions you may have pertaining to this filing.”

Henry Prouse stared at Tracy with his unseeing—yet seeing-too-much—eyes, and lingered on her face a few moments after she had finished speaking. Tracy squirmed—he seemed to enjoy making her squirm.

He looked at the papers without moving his head—just his eyes. He scanned the pages that were visible without turning the pages.

He flicked his eyes back to Tracy’s, fixing eye contact. “Why?” He asked in a long, drawn-out sort of syllable.

Tracy fidgeted. “They feel studying your brain while you are alive and…afterwards…will give some insight into their study.”

“Is this a…negotiation? Is there…an offer?” He paused at unnatural points in his speech.

“No. If you refuse to accept this, you will be executed as scheduled tomorrow morning. If you accept this, you will be remanded to the custody of Elysium Corporation, who will perform their studies and then…” Tracy trailed off, uncertain about that part of the arrangement.

“They’ll see…to it that I don’t…survive.” He said. His eyes were locked on Tracy’s.

“That’s right.” Tracy looked down at her folder, even though it didn’t have any papers in it anymore.

“I’ll…do it.” he said.

“Great, please sign here.” She handed him the pen—his hands were handcuffed to the table, and to each other. He scribbled crudely, and she took the papers and pen back as soon as he was done.

She took the documents and stood quickly, and rushed out of the room.

The smooth-faced, yet counterintuitively old-looking Dr. Karasevdas was waiting outside the meeting room. “Did he sign?”

“Yes.” Tracy practically threw the documents at him and turned away—she was ready to have seen the last of Henry Prouse.

“One moment, Miz Shields.” Dr. Karasevdas said. “The terms of the arrangement were that you would remain his counsel, and oversee his participation in the trial.”

“I, what?”

“You did sign on to this agreement, did you not?” He held another document out to her, which proudly bore her signature at the bottom.

Tracy cursed herself for not reading. “Ah, yes, of course. Sorry I presumed I would have more time. Will you be beginning your study as soon as he arrives?”

Dr. Karasevdas thought for a moment before responding: “No—No, we will run some diagnostics before we begin. We will begin tomorrow at 8am sharp. We will wait for you, so you can be assured of the ethical treatment of the…subject.”

Yeah, yeah. “Thank you doctor. I will see you tomorrow.”

Tracy rushed out of the room, her stomach churning. None of this felt good.

= = =

The next morning at 8am, Tracy joined Dr. Karasevdas in the observation room. Henry Prouse had already been brought into the study room and was strapped into the bed.

“Good morning Dr. K.” She said.

“Tracy, welcome back. Please, help yourself to a cup of coffee or tea, and grab a seat. Our subject is about to begin this first round.”

“Yeah thanks.” Tracy rushed over to the coffee machine and brewed herself the biggest cup they had available. She looked out of the corner of her eye and watched as a tall girlish nurse pushed a vest with needles into Henry Prouse’s spine. Tracy winced.

“What is that thing?”

“It’s the life vest—it’s how we access the Undertow. Here, let’s listen in.” Dr. Karasevdas pushed a button near his chair.

“Now we’re going to play an introductory film as we prep for your submersion, OK Mr. Prouse?”

The nurse lowered a screen in front of Prouse and a film began to play.

Tracy was preoccupied with her Coffee, with what she would make for dinner that evening—she was not at all interested in watching Mr. Henry Prouse, serial killer, get a five star treatment from this plastic-faced Dr. K.

“Dr. Karasevdas,” she ventured, “when is all this going to start?”

“Oh…soon. Liability purposes, I’m afraid.”

“Aren’t you going to…you know…anyway? Can’t you skip ahead?”

“I’m afraid we follow procedures to the letter for a very specific reason. It will not be much longer. Please be patient with our technicians.”

= = =

Henry Prouse was suddenly aware he was in a hotel lobby. “Beyond the Sea” by Bobby Darin faintly echoed over the speakers. The lobby itself was muted—the walls looked like they had once been red, but had been left to fade over time. The fixtures and accents were a darkly tarnished brass.

There were books on shelves, bottles behind a bar. Henry wasn’t sure what to make of all this. He went over to the books, and pulled one off the shelf. It said, on the cover: “Fables of Aesop”. He opened to somewhere in the middle, and the letters were all jumbled. He turned the page and there was an illustration of a dead rabbit, flayed and staked to the ground. The book began to drip blood.

Henry calmly closed the book and returned it to the shelf. He turned to the bar, and walked behind it and grabbed a bottle off the shelf. All the bottles were empty or shattered. This bottle at least had a drop of something in it. He grabbed a glass and poured—the bottle poured blood into the glass.

Henry swirled the blood in the glass and looked into it, and placed it down.

Time to go.

Henry strolled casually across the lobby to the elevator, and pressed the “down” arrow. The elevator doors opened immediately.

The elevator may have had numbers once but they were scattered on the ground. Henry pushed a button towards the bottom of the panel.

When the elevator doors opened, he was on a beach. It was a full moon low over the black, calm sea. Henry strolled over to the water, and stepped into the water. The water felt…odd. He pulled a foot out, and it was dark—it was an oil slick. Oil stained the sand—but behind him the elevator remained.

Henry stepped deeper into the oil-slicked sea. He felt something brush past his legs.

“Hello?” he called.

“Hello again.” Said a voice.

“I did everything you asked.”

“Everything and more.”

“You can take me now.”

“We took you an hour ago.”

Henry felt something tighten around his legs. It pulled him under.

= = =

Tracy vomited into her coffee cup but it quickly proved inadequate to the task and spilled on the floor. Security came and brought a trash bag and helped her out of the room. She caught one glimpse back of Dr. Karasevdas, his face tinted red by the blood on the windows of the observation room—unflinching, fascinated. She felt her stomach churn again, and left the room.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out the other entries in The Blackwater Canon!