There are three access points to the basement in Shokushu. Two opposite staircases on either side of the building that descend into the claustrophobic corridors and unmarked rooms, lit only by dim bulbs that barely light the hallways they hang low over. But that basement is, comparatively, small; it's a straight shot of a hallway that spans the base of the building, with branching capillaries to contain all the preferred captives of the professors and monsters, but it's centralized, mappable - even if few dare to come here uninvited.

The library bulges from the side of Shokushu Academy proper, nearly half the size of the building itself. Stacks of reference books line the halls, organized in a system the keepers don't bother to explain to any but the most enthusiastic of students; but the library also descends to another level, this one containing subjects less savory for public consumption. Magical tomes, scientific repositories not necessarily bound to earthly technological progress, psionic braille-script plates that can only be read by the fingertips of a fellow sensitive, and other codices yet more esoteric. Each level is bracketed by another long ramp down to another level, and the books grow less familiar and earthly the deeper one goes. By the time a student descends to the fifth basement level, far below the rest of the Academy foundations proper, the books have been left behind entirely, and what remains are the tall cooling towers of some unimaginable mainframe beneath the Academy. The air is chill and dry, and the burble of water behind thick plastic screens drains heat away from circuits that hum deep in the floor and the walls. Where the next staircase down would be is missing, and instead there is a computer panel set into a wall with a cheap keyboard protruding beside, and then a massive set of doors built beside them, firmly shut.

The only sound down here is that electronic hum and the bubble of pressurized liquid to coil heated circuits. The walls are soundproofed and eerily silent - the bustle of the Academy far above is silent.

So far there has been no security - the librarians don't come down here, and there had been no doors to bar the entrances down nor guardians to stymie an advance. There is, nevertheless, an oppressive sensation of being witnessed; that any intrusion is seen and catalogued, that perhaps the pursuit of knowledge at the expense of common sense is near to paying dividends to the seeker. This computerized cellar has secrets to hide, and teeth to guard them - but those teeth are closing far behind any explorers now.

The only hint of an exit comes from a standing rail that emerges from a central port in the floor - the tile split in seams along this cold metal guideline, and a small, raised platform at the end, with an identical monitor platform and tacky keyboard mounted on a stand. The plans of the school, should any explorer be privy to them, do not indicate anything built down this far, let alone hint at a network of systems expansive enough to require rail transportation out a basement with no visible surface access. The rails go somewhere, and it's not up.

It's something to provoke curiosity, alright.

Olivia had always considered the more academic parts of Shokushu to be a strange juxtaposition to the rest of the island's tropical climate. Unlike the cold, often rain soaked streets of Oxford and London, the library of Shokushu was surrounded by, yes, solid stone pavement, but it was, in many places, more often than not littered and partially covered here and there by the sands of one of the island's many, many nearby beaches, and always put her more in mind of holidays and ice cream then academia and books. Quiet and peaceful, it always struck her as the more... 'fitting' thing for the rain to be streaming on the windows and the clouds to be overhead, blotting out the sun whilst one was curled up warm inside with a good book. Instead, it was sunny, bright, and the air conditioning hummed with a frankly distracting buzz which... she resented it, but at least it wasn't 'sweat making you stick to your chair' hot indoors.

Inside, through the wide, modern glass doors of the building; she wondered if that big, double entryway was ever closed, Olivia had just finished brushing the largest clumps of sand and dirt from her wheels and, a goal in mind, had just started to politely excuse and bullshit her way past the library staff. Today, she was investigating and, with her most recent experiences having ended so poorly, it'd be with a far more cautious approach now that she tries to take charge of her own fate. It was... frustrating. To this day, Olivia had never been so trapped as she was on this island and, by now, she'd run into more than a few of its stranger 'denizens'. Reality, it seemed, had become oddly skewed in the direction of the lurid and the licentious and, though she found herself coming to this place from a stifling, oppressive and, frankly conservative environment, even Olivia could tell this was not how the real world was meant to be.

She looked for books now, information. An impulse was there, naturally. The temptation was to try and forget, try to ignore, to carry on through this 'ordinary' school life and, by keeping her head down, maybe minimise these 'incidents' before making any kind of effort to avoid them entirely. Give in, accept it and, maybe, if you stop looking for a way out, it won't be so bad and you can get through most of your days without disruption. It may happen a few more times but, when it does, you can just relax, let it happen, just endure and let it pass, and then you can carry on with... whatever you were doing. Let it just be a minor nuisance. When it does happen, it doesn't have to be so bad...

Olivia shied away from this, to just sit back and accept it. Down that same road was debauchery and oblivion, a place where Olivia not only accepted her fate, but also took for herself an enjoyment and fulfilment in these 'violations' and... She knew herself to be so much more than a whited out, blank slate, an empty... an emptied vessel that lived for this, the only thought running through her head being...

She was more than that, and wanted to remain that way. Naturally, she acknowledged that yes, she had desires, needs even. And, sometimes, when she 'satisfied' herself with her toys and other means, she skirted the line. However, she always came back to herself. Sex... and sexual desires, they were just a facet of her, one side of many. It was why, despite everything, she knew she couldn't give up. Despite the hopelessness, the fact that it felt so pointless to try, like she would achieve so little, she knew she had to try and so; Olivia took a deep breath, and continued to fight. What was it exactly that she could achieve? She didn't know until she tried.

Before, she'd not really consider it, not really given it any thought. She knew that there were strange, unnatural things on this island, and that there were, certainly, unknown, insidious forces at work keeping her, and it, from getting out. However, it wasn't until her most recent attack, and the aftermath of it, that she started to come around to the academy itself, to the way it was run and, most notably, to the response of its staff. People knew. People, weren't surprised. They weren't saying anything. Something was going on. She hated the idea of giving herself over to paranoia and suspicion. However, looking into the eyes of the teachers, the staff, even some of her fellow class mates... Well, if there was something erroneous happening here, with this very place, in this very institution, then it would be through the archives, the deep records, the places hidden, places not meant to be seen, that she would find something, would uncover the truth and, not keen on having a repeat of last time, what safer, non-impactful, unprovocative way of investigating and researching, than to dig through the dull, boring lengths of the school's library?

And so, Olivia got to work. Midday went through to afternoon, carrying gradually on into the evening. Looking over what was available, the young heiress searched for anything outside the keenly labelled and sorted categories. There were books of course, on biology, on history, a full collection of William Shakespeare and Dickens. Plenty of subject material as one would expect here on an island Academy. However, soon enough, one got to thinking. What subject exactly did "Institutional Conspiracy and Monster Concealment" fall under? She'd already looked through the political science section.

If there were something, some clue, some scrap of information... it probably wasn't going to be here, in the more publicly available parts of the library. She knew for a fact that there were other books, other things you had to have special permission to get access to. She knew because she herself had had the chance to sign out a volume or two from the restricted section, a star pupil keen on learning gets select permission here and there but, surely, if she wanted answers, she needed to go deeper, needed to get even more access. She needed to sneak past, go further. She needed to take a breath, pluck up the courage and, in some ways still that caged little heiress in her father's home, do that one thing that seemed even more terrifying to her then the prospect of running across another monster. She would have to defy the institution, duck under, and go past the roped off area and 'staff only' sign.

A little reconnaissance had to be done first, though one wondered if she wasn't just putting it off. Diving online, this wouldn't be the first time Olivia had gone ahead and scanned the Academy's network, probing its weaknesses and defences. This time fishing out a set of blue prints, a map for the way ahead, it was honestly embarrassing how easy some of it had been. Stealing access here and there, bypassing admin restriction... really... who in this day and age still used 'Password' as their password? Olivia takes what she finds, a very simple map, gets it ready in a new window and, saving and putting it right up as an image on the upper right corner of her vision, she's ready.

From here, from this point, she waits, a twisted knot in her stomach. Watching, but trying to not look like she's watching, she spends a long time observing the staff. They weren't guards, they weren't security. This wasn't one of her games where the bad guy's henchmen had a plot-table, time-able routine, the stealth mission portion of a level which, if she was honest, she was always bad at those. Instead, this was real life, and she was having to gauge it, watch, try and find a moment when someone was distracted and... Even when the moment does come, she's hesitant and, as the moment goes on, she almost misses it because of a treacherous thought of ‘you’ve already hesitated too long, you’ve missed the chance, you need to wait for another’.

However, thankfully, this one opening would be large enough that, even with that pause, she'd find herself able to slip past. The wheels of her chair whirl, a gentle hum as she glides across the carpeted floor. Head still turned and faced towards the nearest staff member currently talking to a couple of students, Olivia almost hits the corner, missing the mark. But, as she gets closer to the open way, to the rope and the hard, cold, carpet-less corridor beyond, a chance glance back to the way she was going would save her at the last minute and, moving quick, re-adjusting her course, the young heiress would soon be down and under, past the barrier and, heart pounding hard in her chest, she'd be there, past the threshold.

She takes a moment, catching her breath as the library not far behind her continues to bustle. Nobody seemingly has noticed and, keen on keeping it that way, she glides a little deeper in past the rope before finally letting out her deep sigh of relief. Of course, it occurs to her now, she was taking even more of a risk, chancing another encounter yet… She resolves herself. Sooner or later, the way things were, she was going to have no choice but to take these risks if she wanted to get to the bottom of things.

And so, Olivia delves deeper and deeper into the facility. Heading down ramps, as she dared not try and do all this on foot, she has to proceed very cautiously but… eventually, Olivia reaches a point where… There don’t appear to be any more guards, no staff, no security. In fact, it starts to get a little chilly and, perhaps not so forced and compelled to remain in the proper uniform down here, incorrect dress probably being the least of her worries at this point, if she finds herself caught, Olivia takes a brief moment. Twisting, turning in her seat, she goes for her pack strapped to the back and, with it, she fishes out an all essential sweater for herself, something to try and keep herself warm.

At one point Olivia goes to a familiar reserve, an energy drink. It was getting later on in the day now and, though there did still appear to be books and tomes and… urgh… as a woman of science, she scoffs at them, but there appeared to be plenty of ‘mystical’ volumes down here... Even though there were books down here, there didn’t appear to be any staff or security and, in that regard, she’d find herself pleasantly surprised. At this rate, she’d have absolute, clear rein of the place and, hopefully, would find the clues she needed in no time. As for the ‘magical books’... Well, clearly when it came to the sort of stuff going on around here, there was some kind of twisted ‘cultist’ connection involved. Looking over one or two of the books as she searched around, she skims the pages only for a clue on the cultural and mythological significance taking place. She scoffs. Really? In this day and age, you still found people engrossed in these kind of fairy tails? But, she couldn’t, thinking about it, really blame them, especially the uncouth, uneducated, common folk. She’d be the first to admit that the things happening on this island, the strange creatures, they seemed to defy explanation. However, she was certain, everything put in front of her, perhaps not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but one day, it could all be explained through science.

Time passes. More books, more tomes, more research. Gradually, bit by bit, she starts to work her way down to the lower levels where… Perhaps it was the emptiness, the lack of books, the empty halls, but down here, Olivia got a sense, felt a… feeling… Retreating briefly, she double checks through the Academy’s system. There didn’t appear to be any cameras, any surveillance and, indeed, as she cautiously peeked her way back down to that lowest level, she didn’t see anything… Yet, something bugged her. She rechecks the blueprints for the building she has and… This… this floor, this part of the building… it doesn’t exist.

From here, Olivia takes a minute. She doesn’t want to take unnecessary risks like this. However, a place as hidden as this… There had to be something down here. Was it worth it? She spends a little longer turning it over, contemplating, weighing up the possibilities until.

“Screw it...”

She finally makes the decision and, snapping shut a copy of… heh… the Necronomicon? Really? The young heiress begins to make her way down, through that bottom level. From there, she continues to feel that sensation, that feeling as if she’s being watched. However, rational, scientific, she once again assures herself. She couldn’t see anyone. There didn’t appear to be any cameras at least, none that she couldn’t spot and avoid. This place was empty, humming and, as she started to notice more computers than books, it was seemingly now more her territory than the endless volumes and waffles of ‘mysticism’ she'd been riffling through before.

At last then, we have our young explorer coming across the two seemingly locked paths. One a door, another the start of some sort of rail network heading down… To start with, she goes for the door. Looking over the monitor and keyboard, she tilts and leans down her body, looking it all over for any kind of port of plug-in sight where she could attach her own devices and own pre-programmed macros. Failing that, she has to take a breath and, slightly hesitant, not sure what is going to happen, but imagining vividly a sudden, quick opening of those doors with something or someone darting out, Olivia goes for the keyboard and gets to looking over just what it was she had here.

((Hi, sorry I took so long to respond. Was unexpectedly whisked away this week. Hope you’re still interested in this. Afraid I got that weird combination of writer’s block and, at the same time, writer’s… I don’t know what to call it… but I’ve ended up writing something really long here… Erm… Hopefully now that I’ve done some set up with my character, I can get to making things a bit shorter. Regardless, here it is...))

There is a plug-in at the side, but the connector plug is strange; it has a plastic ring around it that's unfamiliar. The computer is ancient enough that it doesn't have a proper desktop, instead just a blinking command prompt once it warms up - and then the display blinks, and there's two entry boxes, an upper and a lower, the latter of which contains her cursor. The top box remains empty for a moment, then letters begin to sprawl across the display.

VISITOR TOURS ARE RESTRICTED TO TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS, CALENDAR YEAR 2011. ALL OTHER GUESTS MUST ENTER A GUEST ID AND A REGISTRY NUMBER. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL TRIGGER SECURITY PROCOTOL AS PER CONTAINMENT PROCEDURE. PLEASE ENTER YOUR GUEST IDENTIFICATION, NEW USER.

A pleasant tone sounds as it awaits entry, like a Mac rendition of a wind chime, but the fact the computer has some way to detect Olivia means that there is some kind of security this far down, and that it has taken notice of her. What that means in light of no one coming to escort her out or grab her is anyone's guess.

There's still nothing else going on. The place is as empty and silent as a tomb, but has the mien of a haunted one - there's paranoia in the musty air. It's too big and too open; the access pathways between server banks is wide enough for five people to stand shoulder to shoulder; the doors are wide enough to admit a trailer through, and the ceiling is easily ten feet up. It's a lot of room and a lot of resources to carve out that room, and it all just looks - abandoned.

Except for that blinking cursor.

If Olivia looks, there's no dust on that keyboard.

((No problem - like I said, I keep busy. If I had to take a shot in the dark, it's a combination of the setting being really cool and having not much for Olivia to personally respond to, since GLADOS-lite wasn't on the scene yet. Anyways, don't sweat it, write what you're comfortable with!))

Head tilted, looking over the one port that she could find, it’d be with that somewhat theatrical looking mask adorning her face that Olivia would, had she the regular eyes to do so, have afforded herself a squint at this particular sight. A mix of disbelief and some vague hope that she was just misseeing in the dim light, perhaps questioning even the pretty high quality resolution actually of her digital sight, it’d be with some degree of caution that she would’ve just started to reach out with one dainty finger towards the hole when…

The light of the monitor flickering to life, lifting her head and body back upright, Olivia would just about have time to see the brief flash of a command prompt before it jumped to some new configuration. From there, letters. She watched and carefully read as they typed and scrolled across. Had she pressed something on the keyboard? Looking down, she wouldn’t see anything in particular. There didn’t seem to be any dust, which suggested frequent use. However, none of the keys seemed particularly worn either. It was old school, a dinosaur. The individual keys these big, grey, blocky things that protruded nearly an inch or so outward. From this, she starts to get a picture. Old software, possibly DOS, with hardware probably just as old but, kept up to date, at least, until about nine years or so ago. From there she was about ready to perhaps make a move but… something struck her as odd.

No dust. So it was, at the very least, in use. Not particularly worn though, so, maybe not used that often? However… she looks it over. Though the whole set up has a kind of ‘retro’ aesthetic, what she’s looking at, it seems… kind of new? Something this old fashion, even with infrequent use, you’d expect some wear so… replaced recently? But why with something that looks like it belonged in the eighties? Hmm. Well, it was weird, but not too suspicious. Maybe they, whoever they were, simply had to replace a more newfangled keyboard with whatever they had lying around and, perhaps short of funding, the only thing they could find was something salvaged from an old, unused machine. Maybe it had been dusty and they’d wiped it off but…

Well, considering now that she might be overthinking it, a cautious Olivia nonetheless starts to back off. Looking the thing over, she doesn’t see anything, any means by which this thing should have been able to detect her. She’d not hit any power button to start it up and, even if she’d managed to jostle something… maybe the thing had been asleep. This seems to make sense to her. This was, seemingly, some sort of start up, login screen. She could imagine it being left like this even when it wasn’t in use. Working here, all you had to do was walk up, maybe hit an arrow key to wake it up, type in your code and away you go. Yes, that sounded about right.

With that, gliding back about a meter or so but, honestly, thinking it over rationally, she wonders why she even has to do that, the young heiress sits still, waits and… expecting perhaps some sort of screen saver or blank screen to come back to the monitor of this thing, she takes a minute, and simply watches.

The cursor blinks for a full thirty seconds, then the screen blanks. More writing scrolls out across the top of the display, this time without the display box.

CUTE. PER CONSCRIPTION PROTOCOL #1335, STUDENT OLIVIA NIGHTINGALE IS CONSCRIPTED FOR LIBRARY DUTIES AS OF CURRENT DATE 3/14/20XX. LOGGING RELEVANT INFORMATION.

A pneumatic hiss pierces the silence, and the stairs up to the next level withdraw into the wall, a panel sliding across the open gap at their summit to seal off the next floor. Perpendicular to the stairs, a panel of wall slides out in a long pillar of steel-plated, featureless block about six feet square. Regularly spaced divots in the bar hiss and open up, magnetic seals releasing. A steady hum starts from within the faceless pillar, electricity working its way through long-silent generators and setting old wires to light and life. The overhead lights flicker as power distribution is altered, and dust drifts from the ceiling with each solid chunk of machinery slotting into a new position.

If Olivia has the state of mind to keep looking at the monitor, it erases itself again and displays new text.

~*~

SECURITY ELEMENTS WARMING UP. PLEASE SELECT USER OPTION:

1. RUN

2. HIDE

3. SUBMIT FOR INQUIRY

4. PLAY WITH THE COMPUTER IN HOPES IT MIGHT BE USEFUL

~*~

There's more information available too - there's a runtime logo in the top right corner indicating a KRAY SYSTEMICS AND TECHNOLOGY company, and a product license and date number in numerals that don't correspond to anything familiar. It also references an operating system version 3.011 and a blinking symbol that says UPDATE AVAILABLE.

There's also a little graphical representation in the opposite corner too - a trio of vertical lines, set in the rough positions of the points of a triangle.

If she looks at that long enough, the top right line blinks to horizontal and back, just once.

There’s a brief moment of relief, the tension that’d built in the young heiress perhaps a little more than she would have cared to admit. Even as she waited, she wasn’t entirely sure if she was taking the right course of action but, as the screen went blank, it seemed as if she’d picked the right choice. Of course, caution needed to be her approach. She had no idea what kind of system she was dealing with here but…

Even before, or kind of at the same time, Olivia picked up on a subtlety. There were blank screens, and there were screens that’d turned off and gone to a power save. Even with the digital sight granted to her, just a millisecond before the new text began to type, she’d realize this was the former. But that wasn’t a thing to worry about, there’d be plenty of systems that went blank before turning off and, it wasn’t until the first spot of light, and first letter of text began that the practical sigh of relief that’d started to form on her lips instead found itself… postponed.

The slightest twitch of her hand translated to the mildest of tremor across the entirety of her mechanically wheeled arrangement, the flinch becoming a very subtle lurch on the thing’s gears. Straight away, her attention came to that first word, the personality of it and, with it, she feels that shot of adrenaline in her system, pulse quickening. No sooner had she started to wonder what was meant by ‘Library Duties’, then the young student finds herself quickly turned to the sound of machinery moving and the closing of the way she’d just come down and...

Immediately, that sense of panic starts to settle in. However, with such things having always been the downfall for her before, she tries to force some calm to come over herself. She’d hear the hum, see the dust coming dislodged, experience that free moment or two as things were seemingly getting to warming up and, though she’d instinctively slide herself away from the new wall that’d formed, chair backing her up away from the thing, her mind scrambles to think. She had a moment, a moment to think and analyse the situation.

This wasn’t another one of those monsters, was it? No, or not as far as she could tell at least. However, judging from the text coming up, this wouldn’t be just some ordinary security system or automated function either. So a person behind it? She could imagine some guy at a keyboard somewhere, managing to see her through… a camera… some other kind of observational device?

She once again glances around, as if to find this place from which she was being observed.

It wasn’t a monster (at least she hoped) but, if that was the case, surely that made the situation even worse. The monsters of this island seemed to have a catch and (eventual) release system going for them at the very least. But, if she’d been caught by ‘the institution’ snooping around where she wasn’t supposed to be. Well… By chance she’d glance over to the new text coming up on the screen, the four options given. A quick, stray thought firing through her head immediately chimes in with an unhelpful ‘you probably wouldn’t be reaching over to press the keys if your decision was 1 or 2.’ But… If this was the people that ran this island that had now just caught her, it wouldn’t really do any good for her to get out of this immediate situation. Even if she made it out of this place and got back to the surface, where on this island would she run?

Sliding the control on her wheelchair, Olivia had already begun to back off, perhaps keen on playing out that option 1 and 2 available to her however… Looking at option 4, a part of her definitely knew it was a trap. The tone of it certainly confirmed for her that there was an actual person at work her, toying, playing with her. But… It did flash through her head as a possible option in the quick solution that’d occurred to her.

‘Be pathetic, be a joke.’ Clearly there was some ego at work with these people and, given the kind of things happening on this island, they clearly didn’t think much of women. The ultimate solution for her here was to prove herself to be as little and as laughable a threat as possible. She had, after all, failed to get through so much as the front door after all, already falling prey to the very first security system that barred her path so, even though she was poking around, noising where it was none of her business, clearly she wasn’t a problem that needed to be dealt with. They could just let her keep running around on this island but... Of course, whether or not that meant she could, or should get herself out of this initial situation was another matter. Perhaps if she crawled her way out of this trap, barely getting back to the surface with tail tucked between her legs, that’s be enough to satisfy.

Play along then. At the very least, she would be able to take some solace in the fact that ‘They’ felt comfortable enough to play around with the security like this or, failing that, hired those that were puffed up and arrogant enough to do such a thing on the clock.

“You think I’m scared?! That I’ll play your little games?!”

Which seemed to be the perfect add on for her to shout out and say to the open air before doing… well, exactly that. Moving quickly, she goes straight for the screen and keyboard however, rather than going for any of the numbers, her fourth finger goes for ‘Window’ then pinky to ‘Tab’. No mouse in this arrangement after all so, hopefully, this would allow her to quickly scroll through the options and… her goal was the ‘update’ option? In theory she’d see the selection, what the ‘Enter’ button at her disposal was poised to strike when pressed, come up highlighted in its little blue square and, if some kind of update was something to help her here, it’d be the thing to go for. Otherwise, she’d just have to fall back on options 1 and 2.

The UPDATE tab blinks briefly, and then a loading bar appears across the front of the screen, along with a blurb about 'contacting servers . . .'

EIGHT YEARS OF UPDATES TO WINZIP. YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THAT.

The text scrolls across the top of the screen, coming out much more rapidly now. That doesn't prevent the desktop from reappearing past the blank command prompt screen - there are only three icons present. INTERLOCK SYSTEM is first, and merely leads to a menu with three options labeled LBY-ENT1 , GRD-DR1, and GRD-MNT1.

SECURITY is second. Unfortunately, the only thing in it is a .jpg file that opens to read YOU HAVE CHOSEN POORLY.

The last icon is REGISTRY and it leads to a list of students signed into the library, and if Olivia takes the perhaps inadvisable amount of time to investigate, students have been signed in as library assistants on a fairly regular basis, once every three months. None of them are names the girl herself would recognize, but then they usually tend to be girls from the higher years, judging by the birth dates recorded in their personal details.

Regardless of what option Olivia chooses, the wall that had slid across from its hidden origin now swings open two hatches set seamlessly into the material, revealing a pair of smooth humanoid forms. They're obviously, obnoxiously female - heavy breasts that hang high, slim and rounded limbs, wide hips. The detailing is left eerily unfinished though, with no faces or nipples or anything else defining, more like tall latex mannequins made to mock human sexuality. The featureless heads turn to regard Olivia where she stands, and they step out in unison, then start to approach. Their pace is ponderously slow, and their gait swivels seductively, but on another glance they don't have much choice in it: their 'feet' have heels built into them, which means they probably have to sway like that in order to keep their balance.

It's curiously ineffective security compared to what they could be without all the gallingly sexual additions, which is an uneasy thing to contemplate.

THIS UNIT CAN ONLY ACT AS PER THE ORDERS IT HAS BEEN GIVEN, the computer types next. PLEASE INFORM THE ADMINISTRATOR IF THEY ARE STUPID. THIS UNIT IS NOT SUFFICIENTLY EQUIPPED TO JUDGE WHAT IS FRIGHTENING EITHER. IF THE AID YOU HAVE BEEN RENDERED IS UNSATISFACTORY, PLEASE INFORM THE APPROACHING SECURITY UNITS AS TO YOUR NEEDS. THEY ARE HERE TO HELP YOU.

Olivia's glance around reveals black spheres recessed into the corners of the ceiling, where the shadows hid them well - they're probably cameras of some sort, but it's impossible to know through the opaque glass.

Olivia’s reaction after she’d pressed that update option would be somewhat mixed. On the one hand, a stray thought had led her to think, ‘perhaps if it’s busy updating, it’ll shut down the other systems for a while’. Not exactly the smartest assumption to make, since there were plenty of programs out there that could operate with such things running in the background and, as such, her expression would switch straight to a ‘hang on… wait, that was dumb’ look of introspection almost as soon as she’d pressed the thing. Following through though, the response from her would shift as she saw that new message come across the screen. Eight years? Well, kind of their fault for not updating more often but...

Had she genuinely managed to annoy whoever it was on the other end of this? Despite herself she couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. Thinking rationally though, was this exactly what she needed to be doing? It probably would be bad for her if she actually pissed these people off. Best if she managed to be a minor nuisance at most. A breath needed to be taken. Her head needed to be clear, even this late at night. Rushed decisions, like that one, needed be avoided and, though she knew she had to avoid it, she couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit of panic seeping in.

Next, she turns her attention back to the screen and the new options coming up yet… She turns it all over in her head. Okay, so obviously this whole thing was a game. There were options being given to her but, based on that first menu, she shouldn’t be taking any of it serious. Especially, as she chooses option 2 for Security, seeing the further mockery that lay in wait for her there. Of course, if she was full on panicking, this would have been an effective method for way laying her further, perhaps putting her into even more of a panic.

That said, some systems you just can’t hack from where you are. If you’re playing a computer game about taking over global nuclear systems, no amount of playing that game well was actually going to get you into the Pentagon. What she had here was definitely not, in any way, the control system for what was going on here. You’re not going to have something like that, without a username or password or any other security measures, not unprompted anyway. What she needed, if she wanted to take control, was to get out of the current program.

However, she doubted that it’d be as easy as control-alt-delete and, even if she could get out of this, she’s working with an unfamiliar system, against the clock, with someone who manages the system there actively working, perhaps even countering, whatever it is she is doing. The best hacks aren’t done when the computer you’re trying to cheat actually has someone on it whilst you’re doing the dead. Of course, if she wanted to shut the entire thing down, or at least force them to do so, that’d be a different matter. She just needed to find a viable port and shove a virus in. Naturally she had plenty of those at the ready, or could easily whip up a couple of nasty, fast acting ones on her laptop in a hurry. The problem was…

In her current state, it’d only take a slight noise to make Olivia turn her head and, as the two ‘androids’ made their appearance, the initial reaction would be a kind of disgust at the gaudiness of these figures. Tall and obviously impractical, a good hit looking as if it’d cause them to topple, there’d be something grotesque not just in their appearance, but in the way they moved as well. Then, putting it through her head, considering the sophistication that had to go into making actual, bipedal machines like this, there’d be a kind of confused look of retrospection. Clearly, there were more efficient security methods than this, but someone out there must have had a very clear picture in mind when they demanded these things be made and, considering the kind of shit going down on this island, they would have to be pretty well off as well to make it all happen.

Watching them approach slowly, she contemplates just ramming into the two of them with her wheelchair however, thinking about it, even ineffectual as they appeared to be, they could probably do the job of getting tangled up in her spokes pretty well. Instead, she’d have the chance to glance up and spot something new and, seeing a glimmer in the dark now, the black, latex exterior of the ‘androids’ blotting out the reflection of something ever so briefly, a quick switch to the night vision on her mask gives her the chance, hidden pretty well in the shadows, the means with which she was observed, or so she assumes. Well then… She looks back down at the approaching figure, wobbling and practically hobbling on their heels. Options 1 and 2 it was then. Turning the joystick, the young heiress turns and flees. She couldn’t get back up to the previous level, but maybe one of the giant server stacks on this floor would reveal a more modern day data port for her to use.

Olivia’s reaction after she’d pressed that update option would be somewhat mixed. On the one hand, a stray thought had led her to think, ‘perhaps if it’s busy updating, it’ll shut down the other systems for a while’. Not exactly the smartest assumption to make, since there were plenty of programs out there that could operate with such things running in the background and, as such, her expression would switch straight to a ‘hang on… wait, that was dumb’ look of introspection almost as soon as she’d pressed the thing. Following through though, the response from her would shift as she saw that new message come across the screen. Eight years? Well, kind of their fault for not updating more often but...

Had she genuinely managed to annoy whoever it was on the other end of this? Despite herself she couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. Thinking rationally though, was this exactly what she needed to be doing? It probably would be bad for her if she actually pissed these people off. Best if she managed to be a minor nuisance at most. A breath needed to be taken. Her head needed to be clear, even this late at night. Rushed decisions, like that one, needed be avoided and, though she knew she had to avoid it, she couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit of panic seeping in.

Next, she turns her attention back to the screen and the new options coming up yet… She turns it all over in her head. Okay, so obviously this whole thing was a game. There were options being given to her but, based on that first menu, she shouldn’t be taking any of it serious. Especially, as she chooses option 2 for Security, seeing the further mockery that lay in wait for her there. Of course, if she was full on panicking, this would have been an effective method for way laying her further, perhaps putting her into even more of a panic.

That said, some systems you just can’t hack from where you are. If you’re playing a computer game about taking over global nuclear systems, no amount of playing that game well was actually going to get you into the Pentagon. What she had here was definitely not, in any way, the control system for what was going on here. You’re not going to have something like that, without a username or password or any other security measures, not unprompted anyway. What she needed, if she wanted to take control, was to get out of the current program.

However, she doubted that it’d be as easy as control-alt-delete and, even if she could get out of this, she’s working with an unfamiliar system, against the clock, with someone who manages the system there actively working, perhaps even countering, whatever it is she is doing. The best hacks aren’t done when the computer you’re trying to cheat actually has someone on it whilst you’re doing the dead. Of course, if she wanted to shut the entire thing down, or at least force them to do so, that’d be a different matter. She just needed to find a viable port and shove a virus in. Naturally she had plenty of those at the ready, or could easily whip up a couple of nasty, fast acting ones on her laptop in a hurry. The problem was…

In her current state, it’d only take a slight noise to make Olivia turn her head and, as the two ‘androids’ made their appearance, the initial reaction would be a kind of disgust at the gaudiness of these figures. Tall and obviously impractical, a good hit looking as if it’d cause them to topple, there’d be something grotesque not just in their appearance, but in the way they moved as well. Then, putting it through her head, considering the sophistication that had to go into making actual, bipedal machines like this, there’d be a kind of confused look of retrospection. Clearly, there were more efficient security methods than this, but someone out there must have had a very clear picture in mind when they demanded these things be made and, considering the kind of shit going down on this island, they would have to be pretty well off as well to make it all happen.

Watching them approach slowly, she contemplates just ramming into the two of them with her wheelchair however, thinking about it, even ineffectual as they appeared to be, they could probably do the job of getting tangled up in her spokes pretty well. Instead, she’d have the chance to glance up and spot something new and, seeing a glimmer in the dark now, the black, latex exterior of the ‘androids’ blotting out the reflection of something ever so briefly, a quick switch to the night vision on her mask gives her the chance, hidden pretty well in the shadows, the means with which she was observed, or so she assumes. Well then… She looks back down at the approaching figure, wobbling and practically hobbling on their heels. Options 1 and 2 it was then. Turning the joystick, the young heiress turns and flees. She couldn’t get back up to the previous level, but maybe one of the giant server stacks on this floor would reveal a more modern day data port for her to use.

The server stacks are about twenty feet deep on either side of the terminal Olivia had been using - easily enough room for her to outpace her obscene pursuers, though the end of the hallway is just a T-intersection that splits off either way, just a terminus hallway for the other side of the stacks. There are a pair of doors hidden in the back corners, however, both recessed into the wall with a nearly-invisible touchpad set in front of them, no password entry required or anything. The one to Olivia's right, notably, has a black screen set above it into the wall, and it lights up to say THIS WAY TO ESCAPE.

Either one is about twenty feet away - rendering the server banks a 20' x 20' square - and she probably has time to go for one before the curvaceous guards make it to this end of the stacks, but after that she's likely to have to wheel some circles around them if she wants to double back to the other door.

The server stacks themselves are featureless and opaque aside from humming air vents, blinking lights, and a flat double-glass overlay that insulates them from touch, with cold water flowing in between the two layers, presumably to whisk off waste heat as it's dumped into the environment from the hot circuits. If the visitor's terminal in the center has limited access, then these servers are probably hooked into the main system somehow, and correspondingly outside access to these has been sealed off. If Olivia's feeling particularly motivated, she could try to crack the glass and check the servers for any kind of input exchange, but that would very likely escalate the situation.

The door to Olivia's left lacks the overhead display, and within is another of those ridiculous oversexed gynoids, tucked away with a surplus of cleaning equipment like wet wipes and air spray cans - and a maid's frilly dress, for good measure, though it's chokingly dusty inside. Opening the door causes the costumed robot to power up and start chasing Olivia too, but with the lack of a full charge and dust in its joints, all it'll really manage is falling over in her direction.

The one to the right, marked ESCAPE, leads to a stairwell down to another level.

Moving swiftly, gliding along the smooth floor of this level, there wouldn’t be many instances in the past in which Olivia had wished greater speed for her chair. In fact, most of her negative experiences tied to her current mode of transport, would revolve around sudden surges in the wrong direction, sometimes into things, or nearly toppling off of others. The earliest memories for her, would be learning to take it slow, treating the controls with extra care, only moving the joystick ever so slightly to manage a smooth, controlled progression from place to place. As such, as she rolled forward, it would be outside the usual for her hand to have the thing tilted all the way, full throttle and, just as unusual, for her to find herself cursing the lack of speed. Faster definitely than a walking pace, but nowhere as good as someone going full sprint, if she could just rev the little electric motor harder…

Regardless, it wouldn’t take too long for the young heiress to reach the T-section and with it, a decision to make. Sat in her chair, she couldn’t easily turn around to see behind her. She couldn’t see her pursuers, but an estimation of their speed and a bit of listening out for their heels clacking on the ground, would give her a rough idea of when they were close. Looking both ways, slowing down and stopping right at the junction, she knew she only had time enough to go to the one door. Its a brief moment of indecision and, if she had time, she might have been able to review her blueprints of the upper level and, from that, maybe extrapolate an idea of which way she needed to go.

Instead, its more or less a 50-50 choice. That is, until she sees a screen lighting up for her, at which point the question flashes through her head. ‘Bluff, or double bluff?’ It was obvious this was a continuation of the game that was being played. So, whoever this was, they had access to multiple systems across the complex. She had just come away from the one computer, apparently refusing the tricks that were there for her so, it might make sense for this to be a bluff, the intent for her to continue refusing. On the other hand, she may have just left because those robots were coming near, and it was impossible for someone else to know her exact thought process so…

She’d hear the sounds of the things approaching, and decided to just pick a direction. Deciding instead to go in the direction of the ‘Exit’, maybe thinking it a double bluff, maybe just thinking such things were a distraction either way and she just needed to choose, regardless; Heading through the door, the young heiress would find herself once more face to face with an old enemy that’d hounded her for years now. Stairs.

“Drat.”

Because even now, swearing wasn't that fully ingrained in her nature.

Had she picked wrong? She had no way of knowing for sure and, whilst these appeared to be going down further, she had no idea if there’d been stairs going back up the other way. At this point, she could hear her pursuers closing in and, by now, they’d surely made it past the T-junction. Well, she’d just have to make the best of it. Naturally, she couldn’t make it down the stairs in her current means of transport. However, bulky and wide, she might hope to at least block up the open doorway she was in right now and, with the time that bought her, maybe make it to some place far enough away, and out of sight of these machines, that she could find a place to hide. Only question was of course, were these thing’s linked in to the camera surveillance?

Well, whatever the case, she would have to get moving. The machines were close, but she would at least remember to grab a couple of things before she pulled herself from her chair, and practically flung herself upon the stair’s railings. Applying the breaks and locking the controls, an outside observer might have been surprised to see the young lady arise from her chair and move beyond it. From what they’d seen so far, they might have thought her entirely bound to those wheels yet, though her knees do seem to shake, and her whole form wobbles as she struggles with the strain, she would nonetheless rise to her feet and... just in time too, as the long, waist hair length blond feels just the slight brush of something trailing through her purple dyed tips before…

From here, she moves on towards the stairs, the handrail gripped tight as she fought to take every step. Glancing back the way she’d come, she does indeed see those two, amorphic shapes struggling with the wheel chair she’d left behind, wedged in the open threshold. It’d apparently been close, but there’d be a continued sense of suspense as she part walked, part hoisted and part fell her way down across those steps, progression slow with no idea how much time exactly she’d bought herself. Over one shoulder, she’d at least managed to grab and take with her the bag containing her laptop and cables and, whilst she was still just narrowly evading her pursuers, it would seem at least, that she still has some intent of finding her way out of this place.

Moving swiftly, gliding along the smooth floor of this level, there wouldn’t be many instances in the past in which Olivia had wished greater speed for her chair. In fact, most of her negative experiences tied to her current mode of transport, would revolve around sudden surges in the wrong direction, sometimes into things, or nearly toppling off of others. The earliest memories for her, would be learning to take it slow, treating the controls with extra care, only moving the joystick ever so slightly to manage a smooth, controlled progression from place to place. As such, as she rolled forward, it would be outside the usual for her hand to have the thing tilted all the way, full throttle and, just as unusual, for her to find herself cursing the lack of speed. Faster definitely than a walking pace, but nowhere as good as someone going full sprint, if she could just rev the little electric motor harder…

Regardless, it wouldn’t take too long for the young heiress to reach the T-section and with it, a decision to make. Sat in her chair, she couldn’t easily turn around to see behind her. She couldn’t see her pursuers, but an estimation of their speed and a bit of listening out for their heels clacking on the ground, would give her a rough idea of when they were close. Looking both ways, slowing down and stopping right at the junction, she knew she only had time enough to go to the one door. Its a brief moment of indecision and, if she had time, she might have been able to review her blueprints of the upper level and, from that, maybe extrapolate an idea of which way she needed to go.

Instead, its more or less a 50-50 choice. That is, until she sees a screen lighting up for her, at which point the question flashes through her head. ‘Bluff, or double bluff?’ It was obvious this was a continuation of the game that was being played. So, whoever this was, they had access to multiple systems across the complex. She had just come away from the one computer, apparently refusing the tricks that were there for her so, it might make sense for this to be a bluff, the intent for her to continue refusing. On the other hand, she may have just left because those robots were coming near, and it was impossible for someone else to know her exact thought process so…

She’d hear the sounds of the things approaching, and decided to just pick a direction. Deciding instead to go in the direction of the ‘Exit’, maybe thinking it a double bluff, maybe just thinking such things were a distraction either way and she just needed to choose, regardless; Heading through the door, the young heiress would find herself once more face to face with an old enemy that’d hounded her for years now. Stairs.

“Drat.”

Because even now, swearing wasn't that fully ingrained in her nature.

Had she picked wrong? She had no way of knowing for sure and, whilst these appeared to be going down further, she had no idea if there’d been stairs going back up the other way. At this point, she could hear her pursuers closing in and, by now, they’d surely made it past the T-junction. Well, she’d just have to make the best of it. Naturally, she couldn’t make it down the stairs in her current means of transport. However, bulky and wide, she might hope to at least block up the open doorway she was in right now and, with the time that bought her, maybe make it to some place far enough away, and out of sight of these machines, that she could find a place to hide. Only question was of course, were these thing’s linked in to the camera surveillance?

Well, whatever the case, she would have to get moving. The machines were close, but she would at least remember to grab a couple of things before she pulled herself from her chair, and practically flung herself upon the stair’s railings. Applying the breaks and locking the controls, an outside observer might have been surprised to see the young lady arise from her chair and move beyond it. From what they’d seen so far, they might have thought her entirely bound to those wheels yet, though her knees do seem to shake, and her whole form wobbles as she struggles with the strain, she would nonetheless rise to her feet and... just in time too, as the long, waist hair length blond feels just the slight brush of something trailing through her purple dyed tips before…

From here, she moves on towards the stairs, the handrail gripped tight as she fought to take every step. Glancing back the way she’d come, she does indeed see those two, amorphic shapes struggling with the wheel chair she’d left behind, wedged in the open threshold. It’d apparently been close, but there’d be a continued sense of suspense as she part walked, part hoisted and part fell her way down across those steps, progression slow with no idea how much time exactly she’d bought herself. Over one shoulder, she’d at least managed to grab and take with her the bag containing her laptop and cables and, whilst she was still just narrowly evading her pursuers, it would seem at least, that she still has some intent of finding her way out of this place.

The gynoids at first seem too clumsy to get over the wheelchair, but after ten or so seconds, the leading one clamps a hand onto each side of the doorway, and smoothly pirouettes up, its wrists rotating in place to leverage it up and over the obstruction. Long legs fold to let it squeeze through the top of the doorway, and then it releases its grip on the lintel and moves to the top of the staircase in pursuit of Olivia. It appears stairs are a more serious obstacle though - it takes one step at a time, the clack of its heels precariously balancing on the narrow steps, before the cybernetic guard apparently gets impatient and tries to replicate its trick. This time, it grips the handrails on either side of the staircase and tries to slide down the whole flight at once to the next landing.

Olivia's too far ahead to see the result by the time it pushes off, but the rapid clatter of plastic and a loud thud as something smacks into a wall presages an inconvenient result for that particular method of locomotion. Pursuit is, momentarily, stalled.

Three flights pass before an end is in sight; the next landing is apparently the bottom one, with another closet where the next staircase down would be. This one has a fuse box, more cleaning supplies, and the surest indicator that something has gone off the rails: there's an old, faded bloodstain spreading down one wall, and a meaty divot in the wall where something had driven into the concrete. Any other traces of violence have since been cleansed.

The main door opens up on what looks like a train tunnel; there's a receiving platform roughly underneath where the guest terminal had been upstairs, and rails that lead off into the darkness. Where the stairway had been lit by dim access lights, this place is pitch black, and the air cold and sterile. If the errant student has a source of light or is particularly willing to grope around, there's a network node set into the wall by the platform along with a black screen, most likely for maintenance.

Also visible if Olivia has a source of light is a pleasantly painted warning on the concrete floor.

IT IS PITCH BLACK. YOU ARE LIKELY TO BE EATEN BY A GRUE.

Even with light, the tunnel fades into black beyond its reach, featureless and imposingly silent.

One of the reasons Olivia’s wheelchair was preferred for means of transport, was her sight. Physical strain, clumsiness and, to a certain extent, a lack of grace and prettiness to her usual hobbled walk, these were pretty valid reasons too. However, as much as Olivia worked the technology, developed the transmitters and slim lined the buffering process, trying to make way with a pair of cameras that bounced and jostled with every step, and gave images just a split second behind her every motion… well, needless to say, the issues there were a lot more manageable when she was smoothly gliding from place to place.

Regardless, the young heiress continues to make her way down the stairs and, is only briefly bothered by the shortcomings of her visual assistance device, the image of the way she had been looking continuing to display for only a moment after she sharply turns her head back the way she came, alerted by a sudden crash and clatter of… something. She has to move carefully but, no matter how steadily she tries to hold herself, she still has to contend with this ‘shaky cam’ problem and, whilst she can use it to have a vague awareness of her surroundings, allowing her to run/lunge down a corridor without running into any walls, she does have to stop and wait a second to pick up finer details and written words.

She stays, paused for a moment as she examines the way back up. Then, seeing no apparent signs of further pursuit, and eventually reaching the bottom of this long, torturous flight, she does much the same as she reaches this… closet? Instinctively, even though her lids are kept gently closed behind the mask, and the eyes beneath all but useless, the heiress squints, as if that would somehow improve the quality of image being fed through to her. She has a night vision setting on her mask. She switches to it briefly, knowing that it used up more power but… well, she was keeping an eye on the charge remaining. It’d been a long evening and night, but the bar still indicated… twenty, thirty percent maybe? Whatever the case, she takes a good look inside that closet space and…

Olivia pulls back slightly, shocked by what it was she was seeing. Despite being a gifted mind, deeply stooped in science and rational, home to biological study as well mechanical and, in theory at least, comfortable with the gore or even the horror of say, autopsy, biopsy, surgery... the young heiress nonetheless feels a sickly lurch in her stomach, provided instinctively by her own body more than her mind. Well… That wasn’t good. Newer theories as to her current situation start to fruition. Some kind of rogue situation then? Something gone wrong in this far facility that, now that she thought more on it, was definitely all but abandoned. She’d definitely not seen sign of any other person down here.

The fuse box looks like a promising thing. If she couldn’t do anything with the computer system, she could maybe, hopefully, shut down the power in this place. Surely, even if things had all gone to hell, the people who designed this place wouldn’t have made a security system that continues to keep the facility on physical lock down during a black out. After all, that would be one hell of a fire hazard yet… She looks around once again. Come to think, she was yet to see any kind of fire escape or anything. It would have been great for her. Nothing said a quick and easy way out like that bio-fluorescent, green running man. Unfortunately though…

With the intent of coming back to it, and immediate pursuit having been halted for now, Olivia would leave the fuse box and, instead, look through the main door. Cutting the power might be useful later, she reasons. It’s a certain way of shutting off any further security measures at least. However, for now, she needed to look for an open way out. The last thing she needed was to be trapped down here, in the dark, with no power, unable to see, unable to find a way out, all passages completely sealed. Which, pretty soon, does lead Olivia onto the next room and… Oh dear.

Once again, she lets out a little gasp at the message painted on the ground but, with some further inspection, she does get to see that it isn’t blood at least. Is it wrong that the first thing that came to her mind was Rlcraft? Well, it was a pretty common trope among hackers and other classical games as well. That particular mod pack would be the most recent place she’d encountered it but… She looks way down the line where the night vision image eventually fades to a blank, luminescent green. It was dark and, if she had to keep this setting on her mask on all the way, she certainly would be consumed by something, in this case her own blindness.

She continues to look around. Another screen, another network node. She approaches. First, she would have to see if there was even any power here and, failing that, she would have herself alternative objective/thing to try and do with that fuse box back there.

The screen has power, certainly - the screen brightens once Olivia touches it, providing some dim illumination to the tomblike corridor. It has a similar interface to the one above, a blank screen with a series of options, but these are noticeably different; apparently this is a maintenance interface of some sort. It reads:

MAINTENANCE MODE ACTIVE

1. UNLOCK RAIL
2. CALL BUOY
3. COMPLAIN TO THE ADMINISTRATOR
4. CHECK LOGS

Notably, it doesn't ask for a password or login, which the other console had.

In any case, with some actual light, further details can be discerned in the environment; the rails don't have a locking system like a train rail, instead consisting of some metal strip that vibrates slightly to the touch, and a track running underneath set into the ground with an empty space beneath the floor that can only barely be seen through the hairline space between the rail and the floor. That means this isn't the lowest level, either; there's at least a crawlspace underneath the rails. The receiving platform is where the rails split and run up opposite walls to the ceiling, which looks devised to open up and lower a platform of some kind - in fact, the monitor up on the floor above would be directly above the platform down here. There's recessions in either wall that are mechanically sealed, thick and bulky doors closing off further machinery. In comparison to the consoles she's dealt with so far, those doors have no interface ports at all, sealed against any kind of tomfoolery. There's another dais sealed underneath the platform that she can just barely see if she tries, in the space underneath the floor - this one is all mechanical and is a thick batch of interlocking metal 'knuckles', lobed at interlocking ends and with the hinged tips folding inwards.

Against the utter silence of the tunnel, it's possible for Olivia to hear the clatter in the stairwell as the gynoids attempt to right themselves. It's just barely audible - they're still a couple flights up, and it had sounded like they couldn't descend stairs without tumbling down them - but they're determined and all their clumsiness costs them is time. They'll be here eventually, but she has several minutes yet.