Author's Note: WOW. I SUCK at these! I'm so sorry that I have not been uploading in a while and I haven't continued TAOJM:RW for a long while (Has it been a full year already?)...I'm really trying hard to continue to write, but I joined an Advanced Writing class thinking that I would learn new skills and tricks for story writing, but I was wrong because basically the only thing that we've been doing all year is writing different kinds of poems - the one for of media I hate writing for the most.
So I apologize for the inconvenience.
This story is spawning from my new infatuation and OTP, Isaac Clarke x John Carver. This one has been in the works for a month or two, before the Awakened DLC came out. If I would've known how it started, I would've tailored it to the events there (BTW, can anyone fucking guess why they decided to start it off like THAT?!), but I guess this'll be A/U or something.
Anyways, I hope that you enjoy! 3
(Please don't kill me...)
Chapter 1: Consiousness
The howl of the wind. The freezing bite of the cold snow. The white stretched as far as the eye could see; the blinding brightness dominating the frosty barren wastelands. The cloudy sky shining bright red, tinting the planet underneath with a soft pink hue. The dark moon that once orbited the planet now crushed into it, sending icy debris into the dark void above. Staring at it all would make it seem as if the glorious moment was frozen in time, (no pun intended). Its beautiful destruction littering the landscape as it slowly continued to tear a chunk into the ancient ice cube.
Contrasting against the howling white powder, a dark human figure laid in the snow; a blinking red light on their back with bold white letters next to it, spelling out the name "Carver", and unconsciousness plausible due to their stillness. Eventually, the figure started to move and the person groaned. The man sat up, looked around at the snowflakes around him and then clutched his head; a red glow emitting from his helmet, illuminating the gloved hands pressed up against it.
"Fuck..."
With the distaste of living evident in his voice, he stood up and immediately clutched his side, grunting in pain. He removed his hand to reveal a fresh gash in his black and red suit, revealing the cut epidermis underneath. He wasn't losing too much blood, but he had to find shelter soon or else he would freeze. He covered the wound with his hand once again then tried to open his helmet to regain his bearings.
"Helmet Malfunction."
"Well, that's just great," he said sarcastically.
He turned around and saw an overwhelming amount of destruction. He speculated that it might have been caused by the moon crashing into the planet. He noticed that rather large chunks of the once triumphant moon breaking off into space. This would've looked beautiful, but he remembers what happened there, and does not want to relive those horrible memories.
Sighing, he started to limp into the storm behind him, covering his face with his left hand and wanting nothing more than putting as much distance between that disastrous sight and himself as possible. He almost lost balance many times, yet he trekked through the wilderness blindly in hopes of finding a nice, warm sanctuary.
After what seemed like forever, he finds another body laying face down in the snow. He could barely see the thin, blinking red line on the other's RIG.
"Isaac?" Carver asked to no one in particular, but when the realization that his partner-in-crime was lying in the snow, unconscious like he had been, he ran towards him. "Isaac!"
This turned out not to be his brightest idea due to the fact that he cried out and doubled over in pain when his wound was exposed; he fell to the ground heavily, catching himself with his left hand and clutching the gash with his right.
"Shit," he cursed and he inched closer and closer to his friend. He placed his right hand on his back and tried to shake him awake. "I-Isaac? Isaac, you still kickin'?"
No response.
He then proceeds to sit up on his knees and pressed a couple of buttons on his left arm.
"Check Isaac Clarke's vitals," he commanded and placed the same hand over Isaac's body.
"RIG at 5 percent," his RIG said back to him. "Critical condition. Must get to proper shelter before body temperature drops below zero degrees Celsius."
He then looks up and all he sees is white. It looked like he wouldn't be able to reach a service room in time.
"Scan the area for any warm housing," he said again while he looked at his friend closer. He noticed that Isaac also had a gash but it's on the entire left side of his core, and is a lot larger, deeper and is gushing more blood than his is. He really needs to get out of this storm...and quick.
"Scan complete," his RIG told him. "An old Sovereign Colonies service bunker is located approximately one kilometer from your location."
Carver leaned over Isaac, rolled him over, and picked him up, placing his right arm behind his knees and the left behind his neck. He slowly, but surely, stood up, shaking a bit with each passing second. Once he was upright, he had to give his knees a moment to get accustomed to the weight, but once it past, he confirmed his destination.
"Set waypoint."
"Waypoint set," the RIG replied. "I will give you updates on your distance periodically."
He turned his hand upside down for a second to use his locator, and then gripped the back of Isaac's head. He glanced down at Clarke's helmet for a moment, at the blue rays of light emitting from it, and set on forward into the storm.
"Body temperature at sixteen point three degrees Celsius," the RIG notified, but it still didn't help the current situation.
"F-f-f-f-uuucckk..." the male shivered. His instinct told him that body heat helps in this situation, so he tried to hug Isaac a bit closer to his chest to try and warm each other up, but failed to realize that the suits are too thick for that to be effective.
"Destination at 100 meters," the RIG notified once again, and when it said that, Carver finally saw a red building in the distance.
"Almost...there...hang on...Isaac..." he said to his unconscious friend, then yelped when a strong cluster of wind grazed upon his own wound. "Ah...f-fucking...shit...!"
Carver's heart was pounding hard fast due to the exertion Isaac's weight had put upon him and his legs started to wobble a lot in the process, but through the howling winds and his strained breaths, he heard his friend say something...
"...C-Carver..." Isaac said, unconsciously.
This made said person stop in his tracks.
"W-what? Isaac? Are you th-th-there?"
The other did not respond..
"Body temperature at ten point five degrees Celsius." his RIG notified. "Seek shelter immediately."
"Ss-s-shit!" Carver yelled. "O-o-okay, Isaac...h-hold..on..."
He tightened his grip on Clarke's body and went into a sprint. The red steel before him coming closer and closer; bigger and bigger until he finally reached it's walls. He went up to the gray door, lightly placed Isaac's lower half down onto the snow and used his TK to turn the crank on the bulkhead door.
"Body temperature at five point four degrees Celsius. Temperature at critical level."
"C-c-come...o-on...," he said as he hauled Isaac up another time.
Once the door slid upwards, he limped in, and noticed something wrong with the temperature.
"No...heating?" Carver voiced, but at that same time, he spotted something bright blue at the corner of the main room. "Generator...!"
He immediately set Isaac down again and shakily aimed at the torque ring.
"Body temperature at one degree Celsius."
His suit was so cold that Carver's telekinesis had to charge up a bit, but when he finally turned on the generator, the door behind him closed and hot air started to come out of the vent behind him. He took a moment to rest his eyes for a bit and attempted to slow his breathing. His grip tightened on Isaac's helmet while he let out a long, calm sigh.
Wait...isn't Isaac bleeding out?
"Oh shit."
Carver looked around for a bit before locating a Suit Kiosk in another room to the left and carried Isaac towards it. He set the kiosk to change his friend's Arctic Survival Suit into civilian clothes, placed him in the braces, and waited outside patiently, gripping his gash in attempt to further subdue the pain that he himself was experiencing.
Once he caught the unconscious body from falling onto the floor, he located a table, pushed off all of the items on it and slowly placed his friend on top of it. Carver removed Isaac's jacket and shirt, and flipped him over, so that his bare chest was resting on the surface, and made sure his head was turned to the side so he wouldn't suffocate.
He finally got a good look at the wound; it wasn't pretty.
It looked the gash had exposed part of the side of his vertebrae. If it got damaged in any way, Isaac probably would never walk again. Also, it was full of blood and it looked like just a bit of the muscle has been ripped off.
Carver's heart was pounding at the sight. He had to do something fast, and the only thing that came to mind was somatic gel. Maybe he could apply some to the gash to try and get his muscles to heal themselves. He looked around the building for any type of can with the gel and finds it next to an empty spray can. He thinks for a bit before he takes both and brings it to the Bench across the room from the Suit Kiosk.
Okay, what did Isaac tell me about making stuff? Carver thought. He ponders for a bit and starts to make a small med pack. He then opens up the tip of the pack, shoves its contents into the can and brings it to the table Isaac is on. He spots a monitor to the left and presses a green button. It scanned the lifeform on the table, detects Isaac, and displays its BMP and health meter. They were both very low.
Carver tried to apply the gel on Clarke's wound, but his suit made it difficult to press the button at the top, so he went to the Suit Kiosk to remove his Forces suit. Once he got out, he cried out in pain due to the fabric rubbing against his own gash. He takes off his marine uniform to reveal his chiseled, bloodstained abs, and picks up the can.
He sprays a bit of the gel onto it and waits a bit for the effects. It seemed to heal a bit of the scarred insides of Isaac, but it didn't look like it would have a lasting effect on the damage.
This will have to do for now, Carver thought, sealing up the hole with the gel and covered it with some large bandage he found lying around. He then did the same to himself, but what he didn't realize is that applying it like this hurt like hell, so he was wincing and grunting the entire time.
Once he made sure that Clarke was in a stable condition, Carver decided to look around their place of establishment, as he didn't have the time to do it before, because...y'know, saving lives and stuff. Once he walked out of the room Isaac is stationed in, he arrived back in the main corridor. He looked to his right and saw the door he came in. The blue circular hologram bearing the word "Unlocked" across its diameter. To his left, there were two more doorways facing each other with a window towards the outside world, holding nothing but a view of a white, frozen wasteland. There is another door right in front of him, but unfortunately, it looks like it has been busted. At this point in time, he has no means of going through the door.
He decided to go up the corridor then take a left, and it led to a staircase to the rather spacious upper floor. It looked like the upper floor was entirely dedicated to sleeping quarters. The landing led into three separate rooms, each with only one set of bunk beds, a dresser, a holographic television and a sliding metal door to a shower.
He went down the stairs and went across the hall to get to a door that led into a snowmobile garage. He walked up to the only machine in the middle and noticed that the engine was busted.
"Well so much for that..." he said disappointingly.
When he turned around to go join Isaac again, he accidentally touched a green button on a console that blinked for a couple of seconds.
"...Oka-"
All of a sudden, the platform that he was standing on started to descend into another large room under the garage. It held two other snowmobiles that looked like were in pristine condition.
"Well, that works."
He turned around to hit the switch again to go back up, but then he noticed yet another door with a blue hologram on it. Curiosity itself guided him towards it and opened it. Inside held what looked to be a body of a small spaceship. There were also a bunch of spare parts lying around the hull that he speculated other people tried to build to get off of this planet, but failed to do so because of the messed up mentality of the Sovereign Colonies Armed Forces or necromorphs. There were blood and bones littering the floor.
This is exactly what he was looking for; a way off of this frozen shithole...forever.
He rushed to the platform and rushed to where Isaac was.
"Isaac!" he hollered. "Isaac! I found a vessel that we could ta-"
He's still unconscious.
Carver lowered his hands that he didn't know he had up in the first place and chuckled to himself. He walked over to his friend, slung his shirt over his shoulder and picked him up to bring to the bunk beds. Carver slid him into the fabric, took off only his pants, placed them on the dresser, and placed him in the covers of the bottom bunk bed in the furthest room from the stairs. He then took off his own pants, placed them beside his friend's, closed the door and climbed up into the bed above of Isaac.
The fading pain took a toll on his energy and he fell asleep instantly when his head hit the pillow.
"...John...John... Are you still alive, John?"
Carver came to with a start; his body shooting up into a sitting position at the voice he heard. Eyes shooting around to see where the voice came from. All he saw was blurry dark red surroundings that looked as if he was in a middle of a hurricane, and a broken floor underneath him as if it was, in fact, broken off of the ground and was thrown into the eye of the storm. He looked down and saw that be was back in his signature Special Forces suit.
"W-who was that?" he asked into the sky above him.
"I'm a figment of your imagination," it responded. "I'm the voice of reason and accountability."
John could've sworn that it sounded like someone familiar, until it finally hit him.
"I-Isaac?" he asked.
He then heard a chuckle.
"What, your friend and soon-to-be lover?"
"W-What?" Carver stammered with a facial expression filled with confusion. "What does that even mean?"
He heard the voice chuckle again.
"You'll find out soon enough..."
John suddenly heard screams and saw shadows all around him. He knew exactly what those were and got up to run away from them. He finally got to a wall, turned around and saw the small shadowy figures crowd around him. He clenched his eyes together and prepared for the inevitable.
If I only had a gun, he thought as he heard the moans and screams come closer to him...
But all of a sudden, the horrid sounds stopped and he heard a heavy clink of what sounds like a gun...
Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, he saw a pulse rifle lying on the ground. He smirked, picked it up, aimed at the shadows before him, and fired until he emptied the clip and until all threats had been neutralized. A bright flash appeared at the corner of his eye all of a sudden, when he looked towards it, his auburn pupils dilated and his mouth went agape.
He slowly inched his way towards the source, dropping his gun halfway to his destination. Once he reached the light, he extended his hand towards it and touched an object...that appeared to be not an object at all but...another human. The other turned to face Carver, his helmet shining with a blinding blue light.
"You okay, Carver?" Isaac asked his companion.
With a loud gasp for air and an upright jolt, John was awake on the bed in a pool of sweat. The perspiration silently, and blissfully, cascaded down his glistening body. He panted hard and frequently, putting his face in his palms after a minute of looking around the room to make sure he was back in reality. He checked if Isaac was still unconscious underneath him, and sure enough, he was. He went back up into a seated position after a couple of moments and decided that he really wanted to get out of this bed.
"I need some exercise," he whispered to himself, and he quietly slipped out of the covers, down the ladder, and put on his pants and boots. He then set the sheets to be cleaned by the built-in laundry chute that sucks up the articles on the bed and feeds them directly into the washing machine. He sneaked out of the room and made his way directly to the garage.
He spotted a horizontal bar really high up from the ground out of the corner of his eye and walked up to it. His strong hands grasped the steel and he lifted himself off of the concrete underneath him and started to count out loud, the sound from his lips echoing off of the rusting metal, shattered tiles, and decaying plaster around the room.
"One...two...three...four..."
Author's Note: Please give me a shout if you have any suggestions or corrections.