One second, he stood at the base of the looming ARGOS DEEP, frigid spectres walking through him; the next, complete darkness.  [ VEIL ]'s hand, still outstretched in front of him, now grasps at nothing.  The door which stood in front of him just a moment before has vanished, replaced with the wall of a residential home.  A familiar, dull color coats the wall, and a television tuned to a dead channel drones behind him.  He runs his fingers down the wall's popcorn paint as his hand slowly drops to his side.  The room that he turns around to see is well-characterized by the walls' grey palette - common furniture arranged sensibly in a living space, surrounding a cold source of light: a CRT television crackling with static.  A hallway is open on the far wall, unnaturally dark, stretching farther into the house.

[ VEIL ] takes a step away from the wall, and the static drone is cut off by the low hum of the Ouroboros.  He is facing away from the monolith-castle, toward the direction he came from, confused and disoriented.  Shaking it off, he turns back around to open the door to the DEEP, before finding himself back in the grey room.

( A sound, somewhere behind him. )  He spins around to face the rest of the dull room - the indistinct furniture - the buzzing CRT - the deep black hallway.

( Another sound.  Slow chittering, barely audible. )  Searching for the source of the noise, [ VEIL ] paces the room.  The air is thick, and his motions are slow - weighted - like walking underwater.

( The feeling of being watched. )  Nothing in the room besides the uninspired furniture.  ( Not alone. )  [ VEIL ] finishes his search and finds himself facing the hallway again.

The static drone dies suddenly, plunging the room into a complete silence broken only by the blood pulsing in his ears and a high-pitch whine from the television.  His eyes snap to the CRT, now projecting pure white scanlines and a channel number: 000.

( The feeling of being watched. )  He turns back to face the hallway.  ( Not alone. )  The abyss stares back, now, with red-reflective eyes.

( A sound of cracking, grinding bones.  The tearing of flesh. )  The eyes rise to the ceiling of the hallway.  [ VEIL ] takes a step back.  ( Not alone. )  Another step.  ( The feeling of being watched. )  Slow, like moving through water.  ( The tearing of flesh. )

His back hits the wall, and it gives way.  He falls roughly to the ground, and the room is gone - replaced by a sterile, white room with harsh fluorescent beams crossing on the ceiling.  [ VEIL ] watches from the ground as the hydraulic-assisted door to the ARGOS DEEP hisses shut.  He sees a hand - long-fingered, gnarled, and soot-black - disappear behind the door as it closes.  Blood trailing from his nose - something still feels wrong.

( The feeling of being watched. )

( Not alone. )