small warning ; possible body horror

     The door dings open as a suited man steps out, unnaturally large muscles threatening to pop out the buttons of the clothes it—he was forced to wear.

     He barely fit through the elevator doors, having to duck down tremendously all in an attempt to actually enter the heavily sterilized building. His brown hair was spiky and looked almost like a rock formation, scraping the top of the metal doorway with an ear-bleeding scratch. Many of the surrounding workers flinched, but none dared complain.

     "By Newton he actually has one," A woman sighs, before clearing her throat and making her entrance to actually talk to the giant, rather than just stare at it in both wonder and tire from behind fogged windows on either sides of the hallway the elevator was at. She doubted that the thing even understood basic human language, a little ticked off that she was being sent as the tour guide.

     Glorified tour guide, she was supposed to brief the man in charge with what was to plan for this project and how things were going (or something similar enough). Hell, she wore her bun extra tight and neat today in the assumption that she would be meeting him, only to be met with some bodyguard sent in his place, no doubt a caveman just given access to a tux.

     "Hello my name is Dr. Santiago, I will be guiding you through this here's annual check. I take it that you will be filling in for the absence of Mr. All?" The—monster—man grunts, the woman taking a great interest in the visible puff of smoke exiting his nostrils that placed all attention on his sharp row of teeth. Canines protruded in a subtle underbite, his eyes barely visible from the heavy shadow made from his large browbones. "Tell me, what is this uh," She whispers off to the side to where her disinterested assistant stood, a clipboard with a certain symbol held in between his armpit, "Gentleman's, name again?" The young man sighs, pulling out the item with a huff, a loose strand of red hair getting easily blown away, "Gigantomachia, although big boss man insisted on calling him Machia."

     She nods curtly, clicking her pen repeatedly as she thought. "Interesting. See to it that you send any known files of him to me." He sighs, hiding away the clipboard knowing he had no choice but to do it, but still insisted on asking, "Why are you so interested in it? It's just like all the other ones we have here." Daring a snicker, he looks up to see the evil glint in his boss' eye, bouncing from the eye-bleeding fluorescent light, "What? You're gonna force him to a table and perform your God-freaky experiments?"

     "Didn't get my license revoked for nothing," She runs her tongue over her teeth, before dismissing the redhead with a clear of her throat and turning, "Right this way, sir." 

     Passing by the similar hallways people remained quiet, the usual chatter of either broke people being paid for their silence and other psychopaths that worked there not present as they roamed. Every now and then she could see the lights swing from behind, the tips of the monster's jagged hair threatening to break them with each hit. God, and how tall was the ceiling? It felt like nothing but easily reaching over a desk for this abomination.

     "And over here, as usual, is our waiting room. Not much has changed, although we did have to start using restraints because many have started to go. . . aggressive." She gestures to the one way window, inside many people tied to chairs and one even hung upside down from the roof. They looked normal enough, muffled screaming through dirty gags and tape while many have simply laid in defeat. It was amusing, with this batch they should be able to reach their one hundredth milestone on the drug soon enough. "But not to worry, they'll be perfectly fine. Shall we?" Santiago of course doesn't wait for a response, opting to just go on right ahead in trust that the giant will follow her. He did, and only then did she notice the small box TV-like item it held. 

     The static and 'Voice Only' display was what stood out to her, taking note that this might be Mr. All's preferred way of contact. "As you may recall, our facility here has four floors. We are currently on the first one, counting in descending order, and we will be entering the second one very soon." She felt a sense of pride pretending that she was explaining the concept of their building to a toddler, a secret smirk on her face as they quickly approach an elevator. "Well not much here, unless you want to see the cafeteria but that is staff-only and unwise to visit it in general." 

     She swipes a keycard, zipping back to it's rightful placement on her hip as it scanned green. "Shall we?" The giant of course doesn't respond, standing still for a few moments before moving right along.

     . . .

     Fascinating, it doesn't seem to be able to think for itself enough to answer questions. Either that or it was given direct orders not to speak and following it perfectly, which was equally just as interesting for the woman. 

     The metal box was cramped as they descended a floor, arriving at a short hallway quickly splitting into two. "This is where most of the changes have occurred," She announces upon successfully avoiding being crushed by. . . Machia. Ugh, giving it a name is weird. It's humanizing it.

     "To the left is where our most successful creation, Trigger, is put into good use. I oversee this entire wing." It was an unnecessary brag, but she did it anyway, "I have to say, Mr. Hansen was a perfect addition to the team. Ever since he suggested we make that change for the base choice, things have been running very smoothly," She led him to the left first in order of her explanation, the fogged, one way windows showing signs of human life as staff moved as vigilant as ever. She sends a casual glance to the TV if anything had changed. But alas, her apparent need for approval from a faceless voice she's only really heard talk to her once asking her how business was going, was left unanswered. She tries not to let it bother her, scoffing at herself at the idea of being mistaken for making small talk with the guard crossing her mind. "Would you like to enter?" She asks, as though that would somehow magically make the giant respond. 

     . . .

     The door hissed open anyway, letting herself in as Machia follows suit. God, how did this thing even fit to do that?

     "Our holding cells are quite durable," She gestures to the glass cube, lining the entirety of the right side of the wall. It went way past her sight, the glorified little cages spanning so far ahead that the colors of the many suffering individuals inside them blurred. 

     "This one, here," She grabs the hung clipboard, the picture of a young woman on the top right corner. "Ms. Hetty O'Bryan, a twenty something preschool teacher. She had the abilities you could compare to a siren," She folds her hands behind her back, staring at the woman in question like a display. And in a way, she kind of was. "Alluring voice, minimal scaling and even webbed feet. Trigger, did all of this magnificent work," The Hetty in the picture was a far cry from the woman who was actually inside. It was obvious that they had just recently sedated her after her dose of the aforementioned drug, tightly bound to a chair save for her legs. They looked stuck to each other, glued even, if you could count that from the disgusting little webs that were in what little space they had between them. Perfect timing, she quietly told herself, watching as her process of transformation hadn't at all been complete.

     The skin on her leg shifted from the blue of the scales to sometimes a sickly green, then back to her original skin tone. It looked. . . alive, in a way, something bumping them up in turn. Her bound hands showed obvious signs of webbing in between the limp, outstretch fingers, crawling with scales that ranged from a beautiful deep blue to an almost swampy green. Fascinating, all in all, but what it hit the worse was her face.

     This Hetty woman no doubt had beautiful features, but none were even visible on the. . . thing, they were staring at now. Her throat looked like it had claw marks in them, something bright blue glowing inside as, if she listened closely, Santiago could faintly hear the sounds of her gargling. Her head was incredibly misshapen, parts of her hair disappearing underneath strange discolored lumps that formed. Discolored was a nice way to put it, as what remained of her face was mostly blue. If anything, she looked like a horror movie production version of an angler fish, even down to the large sharp teeth pushing themselves out unnaturally from her swollen mouth. She was only glad that the transformation left a nostril for them to get what they needed. A little disappointed, because it had been a while since they had to go with plan B and manually open a skull, but glad nonetheless.

     "That is all, this is what we do here." She puts on a polite smile, before turning to leave from where they had come from. She didn't like the part where she had to awkwardly scoot past his comically large body in comparison to the rest of the world. "Patients are then moved to the right wing, where the extraction for PtG is made. That much is self explanatory, but it's a pretty hard station to handle. Lots of dead bodies, usually." The windows on this side were much clearer, her brown hand reaching her keycard and making their way in. 

     "Good morning, Dr. Santiago!" One guard almost yelped as she came in, not entirely expecting her to show up with a titan trailing behind her. "Likewise. Anyway to your left, as you can see, is where the creation of the PtG really begins," She couldn't help but stare in content as an almost lifeless body sat limp on a chair. Unlike the other wing, this one didn't have any of the info for the experiments in question, the easiest to stomach left for the comforts of the imagination as horror was left inside the similar glass cubes. A tube shoved inside a singular nostril, the arms of the man it was being pumped out from lying past the wooden chair. A sick combination of feathers and melting flesh were on display, an unnatural growth protruding on the side of his foaming mouth, almost like a beak. "See? Dead bodies."

     The bubbling liquid that flowed inside the tube was hung from the top, upon looking up finding signs of an entire network of them. The farther it went the more it gathered, in the distance a shining mass of pink overhead the employees doing their routinely checks. "In the end of this room there is an," She waves around a hand in search for the word, seeing somewhere up ahead another creature being wheeled to a free cell, "A storage unit, of the sorts. It gathers and filters these components, before it is sent downstairs for the actual creation. Which is where we are headed next."

     The giant grunts, which was a sign of small progress, but progress nonetheless.

     "The floor is cut in half, the living quarters for our employees, myself included, all gathered here." She says to fill the silence in the short elevator ride, once again popping out of the cramp space as quickly as she can the moment the doors slid open. "This, is the original birthing place of the PtG."

     The place in question was a large workplace of organized chaos. Many white coats ran around frantically like headless chickens, while many kept to their own devices. Yet somehow, by some miracle, things continued to run smoothly. Smooth enough for business to keep going, so they were definitely doing something right. You know, despite the loud party music that made the place feel less like a lab and more like a rave. "Anees!" She calls out, a girl in a corner happily snoring being forced awake. The beanie that fell over her eyes gets pushed up with an annoyed huff, looking around in search of whoever dared cut her nap short. "How are things doing? Any news on your statistics report?"

     "Why do we even need that? These aren't on the market yet," A glare, and she grins widely, "Oh, oh I mean yeah, pfft of course we got that done." Anees, smelled an awful lot like weed. "I'll uh, make sure to have that taken to your office, then. By. . . tomorrow?" The glare on Santiago's face wasn't disappearing, so she took her chances and excused herself. "Right, good talk, loving the bodyguard aesthetic. I'm off, I have work to do!"

     . . .

     "Well then, it seems that's that. There's not much to show, lest you want to go into proper detail of how work gets done here. Do you?" She had to crane her neck all the way up to try and hold eye contact, but it took a while to remember that she couldn't see his eyes so she just sighed and headed back to the elevator.

     Silence falls, as the ride down takes a couple more seconds than the other two trips. "You know, this is the only elevator that has access to all floors," She announces, an odd choice for her random piece of trivia, "Creates a sense of being trapped. Wonderful, really."

     Upon arriving at the final floor and basement, the temperature drops a little too suddenly. It made sense for Santiago to be used to it, but her mind raced as she thoughts of how thick the giant's skin had to be for him to not react to it. Maybe he was not susceptible to the cold? Or did his body just heat up more than the average person?

     Ugh, what a freak. Makes the idea of cutting him open a lot more exciting.

     "Here, is our final stop. This is where we keep inventory for food and management of materials of our employees, and where we ship out PtG. Word has spread that Dr. Harrison plans on releasing Trigger to the public," They walk by various shelves and crates, the workers down here scarce in numbers as the clicks of her heels echo all throughout. "Or at least, a variation of it. Something that can enhance basic human skills, that kind of thing." She quietly chuckles to herself, forgetting on many parts of the trip that she was even with someone as all her attempts at interaction remain unanswered, "Ah, the humble beginnings of PtG. I remember when that was the goal. Just a simple creation meant to knock out all other competition by simply tampering with hormones."

     She laughs, a little louder, "And to think those creatures had so much of them just running rampant in their veins."

     The sight of the separate hallway slowly came into view, and she knew that it wouldn't be long for her to rid of this nuisance she had trailing quietly, grumbling behind her. "Well with that, comes this tour's conclusion. I hope it was satisfactory?" She teases a look back as she leads him—them?—to the service elevator. They could just simply take the original elevator back up, seeing as it was the most ideal route and that this one was exclusive to staff only. But what was the difference? It still led the same way, and the damn entrances on the surface were right next to each other.

     Plus, they were technically still considered staff. Not the titan, dear God no, but she no doubted that the man behind the 'Voice Only' static was the man in charge. Not just of Gigantomachia, but of this entire facility. Dr. Harrison might be at the top of the pyramid, but Mr. All was still above that.

     After all, if he weren't so important his face and symbol wouldn't be everywhere now would it?

     "That was an excellent look around, Dr. Santiago," a voice crackles through the old device's breaking speakers, a proud smirk settling on her face as, finally proven, he had been listening. "Ah, Mr. All, pleasure to actually talk to you." She turns, just by the elevator as the voice chuckles, "Forgive my manners. Apologies as well for not being able to say that in person, it really does disappoint me. Has Gigantomachia been good?"

     "Excellent company, sir, if not a little quiet." She glances up, a cheap smile on her face, "Ah yes, forgive his manners as well, he's not one for idle chit chat." He chuckles again, Santiago only now taking note of how. . . muffled, and heavy breathing he sounded with each word. "It seems that all I do is apologize. Will that be all, Dr. Santiago? It's in due time that Machia get back," She nods in understanding as she steps aside, letting the elevator doors open and waiting as the giant grumbles his way inside.

     "Of course, of course, don't make me hold you back any longer." She waves a carefree hand, fixing her posture with a clear of her throat, "It was a pleasure properly meeting you, Mr. All. I do hope you plan to visit a lot sooner than the difference of today and last time," She joked with a quiet snicker, surprisingly earning one in response. "I will try, and I expect you to tour us through the entirety of the building once again?" She laughs, before nodding a final time as the metal doors slowly slide close. "Until next time."

     . . .

     . . .

     . . .

     A beat passes, and then another, the whirring of the elevator and rumbling of air conditioners a quiet noise that faded naturally in Santiago's background. Deep in thought as she sighs, slicking down a stray of hair before turning to go back to the main building. She may have just played buddy buddy with the head honcho, but she knew damn well that Mr. All wasn't a patient man.