Chapter 8: Death Would be a Mercy

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"All units report to cells for routine check up. All units, please."

Dipper woke up with a start, his head snapping up and hitting the bare wall behind him. He had fallen asleep staring at the bars again.

His bones ached as he stretched slowly, running a hand down his face.

"The products following are ready for extraction today: 4789WC, 23190GM, 5637XX..." the speakers droned, cracking occasionally. The noise was becoming familiar to him.

Time was almost as meaningless as his life in this place. There were no clocks, no sky, nothing. At a guess, Dipper could guess that he had been in the same cell for a month, waiting to be used for his body parts.

The tattoo branded onto his neck no longer was irritated, fully a part of his skin. He traced his hand over it, fingers brushing the letters he was forced to see in the mirror everyday.

6735AX, he knew they read. It was his only identity in this place. A product number.

"...45610CF, 37555AQ..."

The speakers would recite the lists of people who would be killed everyday, the monotone voice echoing through the dull halls. Every morning, without fail, he was woken up by it, listening carefully for a number he dreaded to hear.

"...and 33378GR. Move them to the holding deck for their execution."

Dipper let out a sigh of relief, though he wasn't sure why.

"Just another day to keep going." He mumbled to himself. He looked up at the bars again. "Another day in this place."

He watched with little energy as a guard stopped at his cell, right on time. With a long hand, it pushed through what he supposed was a meal. Dipper did not look away from the guard until it left, then shuffled over to collect the food.

"Another day." Dipper sighed, picking at the food. "Another day."

~

"All units report to cells for routine check up. All units, please."

It had been a while since Dipper had seen the sky of Gravity Falls, or watched it's beautiful sunsets on the roof of the Mystery Shack. He missed the colour, only ever seeing white for the past two months.

There was nothing to do but sit and wait for death, no matter how hard Dipper tried not to. The walls were lined with metal, the bars seemingly unbreakable. One time he had dared look through the bars and at the walls around him, and discovered that there were guards everywhere for most of the day.

If they weren't, they were pulling people away to be executed.

The only brighter colours he could make out was the glow of portals and rifts that seemed to gather in this area. They were mocking him, and Dipper had refused to look out since.

"The products following are ready for extraction today..."

Dipper buried his head in his hands, curling up against the wall.

~

"All units report to cells for routine check up. All units, please."

This time, Dipper was already awake enough to hear the voice. He was staring at the mirror, hardly recognising himself.

His hair was bordering onto completely wild, frayed and hanging passed his ears. Dark bags gathered under his eyes, eyes darker and hollow.

It made him sick at what he had become.

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