Lost in the Lab Part 7
Date Posted: October 27, 2025
This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
“Oh, I uh…” Amon wasn’t quite sure what to say in the face of Scylla’s discomfort. Sure, the dust buildup in his office was less than cozy but was it really that bad of a location?
In struggling to better understand her point of view, he supposed that he couldn’t really blame her for not wanting to spend any more time near the labs than needed. Still, he thought that the experiences they’d had together in Eorzea had helped to wash away some of the sins of his past.
Apparently, that wasn’t so. It was all merely wishful thinking on his part.
While she had forgiven him for some things, enough to co-exist and interact on a daily basis, being thrust head-first into a scenario that replicated her final day as an unaltered Allagan… Well. That was a different story.
That would be more than enough to trigger the tormented memories of the living nightmares she’d suffered through in her previous lifetime. Nightmares he had perfectly tailored with the express purpose of pushing the boundaries of her terror, to the point of mind-break insanity.
On purpose. For his own twisted pleasure.
And now, that had all come back on him, full circle, as he looked upon the situation of his own making with overwhelming guilt and regret. The fact that Scylla merely tolerated his presence within this very lab was a testimony to her resilience and courage.
The Elezen let out a shaky breath, trying to maintain appearances, and suggested, “Mayhaps we can reconvene in my personal quarters then?”
Realizing what that invitation sounded like he backpedaled quickly, the tips of his ears taking on a slightly flushed hue.
“I… I… do not mean in an untoward way!” Amon corrected, spreading his hands. “Tad and I have been using my old quarters as a base of operations in the Tower. ‘Twould be the safest place for now.”
The Technologist then shot a slitty side-eye at the comments of the Node, who – if he didn’t know better – seemed to be enjoying tossing random statistics out to unnerve Scylla all the more.
“The way between here and there had better be perfectly safe,” Amon lowered his brows and his vocal tone. “I will leave that task to you to ensure, Node. So, be about it.”
He dismissed the machine with a commanding wave of his hand. Then, he looked back to Scylla to try and determine her reaction.
Scylla’s face scrambled back and forth between fear, disbelief, and confusion. This was Amon, the Grand Technologist of Allag, the supposed Ascian terror, Fandaniel.
Her nose wrinkled. For all that this man was, he was behaving awkwardly, stumbling over his words and squirming about, just like the young Elezen that she once knew in a distant past.
Is Tad really here somewhere? Amon could be lying, luring me in… just like before…
But it made no sense. Here he was in the laboratory, surrounded by machines and environs that would readily support a second vivisection without question. For all of his awkwardness, he was still Amon of the Tower, in a position that he could easily overpower her weakened and injured form.
And yet… he offers me comfort and succor…
Her face softened as she steadied herself on the less tender of her ankles.
“Okay, Amon… you better not be fibbing.” She gave a weak nod, holding Amon’s arm once more for support. “And what’s wrong with your Node? I’ve never seen one… so odd?”
The Node gave a disapproving buzz at her before floating out the exit.
“Node was powered down in standby mode for a very long time,” Amon told her, somewhat relieved to be making any sort of normal conversation. Relieved that she had allowed him enough trust to agree to follow him. He began to lead the way, waiting for Node to get out of sight before continuing.
“This version of the Tower seems to have been functional and awake for quite a while. Node mayhaps has a few rusted circuits I should tend to once I get a moment to run some maintenance scans. ‘Tis all. He will not be a bother to you if I have my say. And I shall.”
Thinking better of it, Amon shrugged out of his lab coat, folding it over one arm as he ushered her out of the lab compound into the dimly-lit maze of hallways that he knew only too well. Under the finery, he wore just a simple white tunic and red slacks, which he hoped lent a sense of not-being-a-technologist to his appearance. He didn’t need to continue to visually remind her of exactly what part he had played in her past lifetime, after all.
“I’m sure you have questions,” he glanced at her. “As do I. You haven’t told me how you came to be here. I know that ‘tis a rifting system set up between this reflection and our own, but that would have deposited you in the storage facility next to my quarters. I am fairly certain ‘tisn’t how you arrived as I have it very well monitored.”
The journey from the laboratory to Amon’s room seemed to take forever. His quarters were further up, close to the highest spire. It would seem that the technologist had already set up defenses and illusions to dissuade any unexpected visitors from finding ways into his abode.
To fill the time, she told him how she had followed him, her unfortunate and unexpected encounters with the Tower wildlife, and with his node army.
Before her were large, gilded doors, sparkling in crystal blue, golden runes and a hand-etched picture of Amon crafted in the late-Allagan style ran down the center. The eyes glowed from the mask, staring down threateningly at the pair. It was massive, perfectly sized for the giant, robed terror that Amon had made of himself.
She cringed at the picture, giving a half look of disgust. It was so different from the lanky elf that stood at her side, supporting her and helping her as she walked through the smaller, servant’s entrance.
Within his chambers, she rubbed her eyes at the bright sunlight that danced across the crystal walls. Drapes of dark scarlet and gold lined the vaulted ceilings. Giant plush couches, a neatly made bed with patterned Allagan sheets, and hand-carved furniture from the farthest corners of Allag lined every wall of multiple rooms. There was even a private garden —though it was barren and long dead —and a hidden balcony beyond, where the lavender fields of an unknown world stretched beyond an unfamiliar town structure nestled at the base of the Tower.
Amongst all the oversized furnishings, areas had been cleared out for tangles of wires, computing nodes, and crystal-powered terminals. Nodes buzzed about, continuing their repairs around the area without notice of the impending visitors. She recognized Tad’s bedroll, and several of Amon’s traveling clothes scattered about in piles.
She picked up a pair of wrinkled striped pants and wiggled them in front of Amon, before tossing them aside, looking for healing supplies in his knapsack, which lay in one of Amon’s upturned giant feathered hats. “Still into this pajama fashion, are we?”
“Pajama fashion?” he repeated in a somewhat offended tone. “’Twas the finest make in all of Allag, I assure you!”
It took a moment for him to realize what Scylla was doing as she rooted around in his belongings without asking permission. For, of course, she had taken some injury in her exploration of the Tower. He wasn’t sure what all lurked the lower halls, but from the sounds of it, the excavations of the people of the First had dug up more than just information.
This was something he might need to look into later. Not that he expected to need to go to the lower floors all that much.
Amon directed her to a cabinet of lab supplies that he’d managed to scrounge up, which included the mandatory safety and first aid kits. “’Tis what you need? Are you in pain?”
Though he tried to keep the concern out of his voice, it was difficult, and he didn’t know why. Certainly, it was hard to determine what side-effects might result from wounds inflicted from the unknowns that lurked the lower labs.
Still, there was something more… emotional… to his query. Something that spoke of earnest worry for his once-rival, that surprised even himself.
There was almost an innocent, boyish way to the way Amon behaved. It was strange, partially off-putting, but also made something tickle in the back of her throat. It harkened back to a time almost too far past to remember—a time of warmth and innocence, when the Tower stood for something more, before Amon of the Tower, and certainly before Ascians.
She watched as he rushed to find her supplies, scattering around everything from stomach remedies to muscle pills, all in front of her, looking at her with genuine concern.
“Thank you, Maxears…” Scylla chuckled a little, reaching up and pulling down on his ear before heading into the cleansing sector. She looked over her back with a flushed smile before closing the door.
Amon watched as she left the room, a sense of befuddlement overcoming his usual collected demeanor.
Why was he acting this way? He didn’t know, but it was so bizarre. Even to him.
At the same time, he felt more alive and aware than he had in a long time.
The Allagan touched the ear that had just been pulled, musing at the old nickname Scylla had used.
Maxears.
It had once been meant as an insult from their younger days. That she still remembered and used it – what did it mean? This time, she’d said it differently, though. Not in the way she’d once taunted him in their childhood.
Amon wasn’t sure how she was going to respond to his story, to the things he’d discovered within the Tower’s memories. About himself. Where he came from. Why he was the way he was.
About the Other. Who they had become. Though, why they’d done what they’d done was still a mystery to him.
While usually a reserved and private person, he felt almost… excited… to share the truth with Scylla. To offer her proof that he was still who he’d always thought he was. Just in a different fashion.
He found himself fidgeting with one of his keypads as he waited. Noting that Tad was nowhere to be seen – as per usual during daylight hours – he hoped his cousin would think to bring back a meal as he usually did.
Scylla would likely be hungry, and Amon wasn’t sure when had been the last time she’d had something to eat.