The featured song is 'The Hole at the Center of Everything' from Night in the Woods

***

How had Palette never realized it? The lab had always been so close.

The group trekked up the mountain, filing into a cave entrance hidden by the brush surrounding it. A hidden panel on the wall designed to look like an ordinary rock was pressed to reveal a metal door with a pad of numbers to the side. 

That door led to the inner belly of the mountain: the lab.

For three years, Palette had been so close to Goth without even knowing it.

The head scientist broke off from the rest of the group, with only the two soldiers escorting each skeleton and an extra pair of men accompanying him into an elevator. Palette couldn't deny he was nervous, not just because he'd never been on such a contraption before. 

What are these people going to do to me? What are they going to do to Goth?

The skeleton in question had remained quiet the whole walk, his eye sockets empty, draped over the soldier's shoulder like a lifeless rag doll.

As Palette's mind spun dark scenarios, the elevator arrived at its destination and the men filed out into a dim hallway lined with multiple cells. Some were empty, some contained shadowed figures... everything was eerily silent. 

Stopping at an empty one, the old man pressed his finger to a smooth panel. The latch made a popping noise and he instructed the soldier directing Palette, "Put the spare in here. We will find a way to make use of them eventually."

Palette was pushed haphazardly into the cell, grunting at the impact as his knees buckled. 

The door slammed shut as the old man turned to Goth's captor, "Do not bother with a cell for it. Take G01H straight to the lab for test prep. We will need to analyze its current state and figure out if there have been any major changes from our previous tests."

Goth whimpered softly but didn't struggle as he was carried down the hall, blank eye sockets wrinkling slightly in dismay. Palette reached for the bars, pulling himself into a kneeling position as he watched the group leave.

I have to escape... I can't let them hurt Goth!

Using the bars once more, he pulled himself into a standing position until he could reach the pad on the opposite side of his door. The skeleton growled when pressing his finger against it like the scientist had accomplished nothing. 

I should have known that would be too easy... Goth wouldn't have been trapped here for so long otherwise.

Palette weighed his options.

I'm still feeling tired from earlier... plus there are way too many guards. Trying to muscle my way through will only end in me getting caught or killed. I won't be able to help Goth if that happens, so I have to try to sneak out without attracting attention.

The artist let his gaze wander around his cell, looking for anything he could use to escape. All he saw was a grimy mirror above a small sink, a toilet with a waist-high wall for some semblance of privacy, and a lumpy mattress crammed into the far right corner. 

There's not a lot to work with...

Just as he began to resign himself to brute force being his only option, his eye lights caught sight of a vent.

Stumbling over to it, Palette tried to dig his fingers into the metal siding. It was attached firmly to the wall with four screws with a hexagonal indent in each hole. It didn't budge.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, his hands fell to his sides... only to brush against an object in his pocket. Pulling it out revealed one of his pencils... with six sides. 

They took my bag but didn't bother to check my pockets!

With renewed hope, Palette dug the pencil into the hole, fighting to stifle a cheer when it fit perfectly.

For five grueling minutes, the skeleton worked feverishly to loosen the vent grate. Finally, the last screw popped off and the cover came free. 

Pulling himself up, he was grateful that he managed to fit with a small amount of breathing room to spare. There wasn't room to turn around and retrieve the grate, so he would have to move quickly in case someone came by to check on him.

Taking care to move at a quiet but steady pace, the artist made his way through the vents, peaking through each cover in hopes of finding the room Goth had been taken to.

They said he was being taken to a lab, so he probably won't be around here with the other cells...

As he continued on, muffled voices could be heard. Palette would have passed them by if not for the word 'G01H'. 

That's Goth's old name! 

Doubling back, Palette peeked through a grate. He saw the balding old man and another scientist, a woman, speaking at a desk.

"... It is certainly a troubling find. We will have to be more careful in the future if the absent eye light is indeed a sign of its lower physical tolerance. Luckily,  G01H still seems to have its healing capabilities. However, its slower rate of recovery, even taking the suppression collar's influence into account, is bothersome," the professor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Not to mention its newfound sense of defiance."

"But how are we supposed to test the angel's capabilities if its lower endurance levels won't allow for corrective measures?" the woman asked.

The balding man grumbled, "We will need to administer more tightly controlled shocks in such scenarios. No more emotion-fueled discipline. Quick, rapid-fire shocks only. Past tests have proven negative intent can leave lasting marks, so its body is not completely immune to permanent damage. Our preliminary results are also showing potential for mental breakdown with enough accumulation. It would essentially become a living doll: still present, but unable to react to external stimuli. 

"The main problem is the loss of its magic and abilities in the process, seeing as a monster's emotions and magic are so closely connected to each other. I believe monsters refer to the phenomenon as 'Shattering' of the soul. If such a thing were to occur, it would become nothing more than a useless husk. Even so, we cannot let it continue to defy us..."

Palette clenched his fists as he forced himself to continue down the vent. 

The way they're talking about Goth as if he's an object rather than a living being... it makes me want to be sick! Shocks... mental breakdown... shattering souls... these are bad people, without a doubt. 

Normally, a soul shattering was the last step in falling down, similar to a coma in human terms, before a monster dusted. For someone like Goth who couldn't die, however... 

I knew it... he's not safe here. We have to leave.

With renewed determination, the skeleton continued down the vent tunnel until he heard a scream. 

That's Goth!

Quickening his pace, he made it to a grate. He immediately spotted Goth panting and crying at the far end of the room, secured to a chair, covered in colorful wires, surrounded by people in long white coats.

Then one of the machines revved to life... and Palette felt hatred for the first time in his life.