“Not another step.”

You’re seriously considering getting another job.

Honestly, the blame is technically on you, for accepting that… very strange commission from the IPC’s life conservation department (which you didn’t know was even a thing), and offered you a grand total of… Well, something that would cover rent for the next two Amber Eras. You thought.. you know? Maybe it’s worth it.

Maybe it’s totally not having to feed a tentacled siren, inhabiting a giant water tank in the middle of the IPC’s most private laboratories for marine life studies. You didn’t question why they chose you, a humble marine biologist. But it seems they liked your enthusiasm and thirst for knowledge.

The very first day, it seemed the violet haired siren had gotten enough of the less than humane conditions to live in, and… everything was a blur once you stood over the tank from very high, watching the gently rippling water as you hesitantly held his rations for the day.

“I’m under the presumption that this one here is your most valuable asset.”

The timbre of his voice sounds against the side of your face as you struggle against the eight slick appendages firmly holding you in position.

You’re being used as a hostage. A large hand covers your muffled protests, but his gaze is firmly fixed on the remaining scientist who didn’t decide to run for his life. Said scientist cowardly looks between you, flush against the muscled body as the siren aims one of their tranquilizer weapons at you, the needle grazing your jugular. You swallow harshly, and the subtle movement causes the pressure of the metal against your skin to increase for a fraction of a second. There is a knowledgeable smugness coming from the siren’s voice.

“Tsk. Tsk. Not so superfluous now, are we? I’d suggest you make a decision soon, or else I might just finish her off instead.”

Since when does a sea creature speak so eloquently— or, in human language at all?