F.E.A.R: Burning Inferno

Disclaimer: I don't own F.E.A.R or the characters of F.E.A.R

A/N: This story is my first attempt at a F.E.A.R story. This story will follow the events after F.E.A.R's ending and I will combine both to show what happened to Beckett after F.E.A.R 2 - making my own version of FEAR 3. I have played the game F.E.A.R 3 and I don't mind it, but it didn't hold the same light as the other games. Ending was not what I expected, but it has given me ideas. I hope you like my story. Please Enjoy :)

Interval 1: Crash Site – Fairport City (Point Man)

Sounds...

He had remembered the sounds – a dry resounding scream of a woman and then a massive and terrible explosion. The earth had rumbled under his feet and the wind howled angrily against his body. All at once, all sounds had merged into one singular and deafening vibe that thrashed at his body, throwing him away effortlessly to the breeze.

Then - there was silence.

He had blacked out. He recalled regaining consciousness a few times – though all was blurred and vague to his recollection. He recalled seeing a giant blur descend upon, a blast of wind stirring about him and the ruins he lay in and a friendly voice calling out to him.

'...They came for me...'

He remembered more sounds - there was sparks of electricity and the tearing of metal. There was a noise of an engine suddenly firing and then failing, and the odd noise of the main propeller blades spinning lifelessly in the wind. He could hear the outside world was spinning about him, in an unpredictable manner.

'...The helicopter...'

Voices... there were voices. Frighten, confused and heighten words being screamed from all around him. He no longer remembered the meaning of the words, but he recalled hearing them. They sounded different, mixed with tones and accents; a male and a woman. All he could hear now was a continuous ringing in both his ears, bringing with it a deafening sensation.

'...Sergeant Holiday...Jin...'

Pain... he felt the burns upon his flesh and the aching of his bones. His muscles screamed in agony and his nerves were firing with an overload of painful signals up his spine and into his brain. There was a warm liquid upon him; he could feel it in numerous places all over his body. The metallic smell of blood was strong in the air; it filled his nostrils leaving nothing else to enter.

Darkness... he couldn't see anything but the darkness before him. He could feel that his eyelids were open, but his vision had not changed. There was no light or faint glow of any kind to break the dark. He could see nothing. Though his sight was missing, his eyes began to burn with pain and he could feel a sting as blood flooded into his eyes. For the moment he had to keep his eyelids shut, whether they still worked or not. Opening them now would allow more blood into his eyes, keeping his vision blurred - that's if he could see anymore. The thought had entered his mind, but he tried to dismiss it. The darkness could merely be the result of an injury. His couldn't feel any wounds upon his face or head, but his whole body was screaming all at once – all wounds felt joined together; he wasn't sure how bad he had suffered. Perhaps, this was just one more.

A quick breeze rolled in from somewhere before the Point Man that tickled at his exposed flesh. It caused a few wounds to sing out in pain, but it was rather refreshing on the burns.

...get...up...

There came a whispered upon the wind - It was soft, barely auditable and totally unknown to his ears. Point Man wasn't even sure he had heard anything against the ringing in his ears, but he felt something draw his attention to it. He listened, but there was nothing. He tried vainly to filter past the ringing, but it still left him with nothing but his own shallow breathing. He dismissed it as nothing more than an echo on the wind or someone nearby.

'H-he...hello...' He tried to speak, to call out even, but his throat was dry and sore. The Point Man grunted and groaned in agony of his wounds, which seemed to be the only noise he could muster is his current condition.

Getting... soft are we, private? ...Move... that's an order...

The Point Man froze. He even held his breathing this time to hear the whispers properly. He strained his ears, but the whispers had fallen silent again. He allowed his lips to part and let the air he held inside of his chest to rush out. Whatever he was hearing, he knew he wasn't going to catch it, unless it was screaming at him.

The Point Man, tried from laying around and unknowing his own condition and how bad he was, took a deep breath, steady what muscle he could without causing too much pain and slowly began moving his limbs. He started with his smaller extremities, starting first with his toes. He felt each toe wiggle freely in his socks and combat style boots on both feet, though his actions caused some pain and discomfort higher up along his shins and upper thigh. He made a quick mental note of each pain he felt and where, so he could address them later.

Next, he motioned his fingers and thumbs to move. The right hand seemed fine, minus a few scratches. Each responding normally and without any difficulties or pain - but his left hand was stiff and his pinkie was dislocated from its joint. He could feel brunt flesh on his left arm, just below the elbow. The whole left side of his body was rather tender and sore. He concluded he must have taken the majority of the damage to his left.

'Not too bad... considering' he thought, allowing himself to exhale.

He could feel sweat starting to form on his skin, after such small examination. His chest was already painful, but the sweat added a quick sigh of relief and then added a painful burn to follow up.

He ignore as much of the pain he could for the moment. Now, he had to see how bad the major limbs had suffered and where or not he was in dire situation.

Again, he took a deep breath and steadies his muscles, before attempting to move his legs. The muscles in the legs responded to his will, sending a choir of painful messages to his brain, before actually moving as he commanded. He felt numerous cuts, a few which were deep enough to draw blood and the rest were nothing but mere scrapes. His legs felt rather heavier than normal, but he didn't feel any additional pressure weighing them down. He concluded they must be weary from lack of use, but overall, still in fine condition.

The next step was his torso. Point Man could feel his torso was already in large amounts of pain simply from just laying there. His back was sore and tender and he could feel countless bruisers had formed while he was out. Regardless at this stage, he had to push on. He mustered up his strength and began to wiggle his torso and shoulders. They responded a lot quicker than the legs, but they gave up a lot more pain. Point man could feel sweat was now flooding his entire body. These examinations were requiring a lot of effort and putting far too much stress on his already batted body. But he had to keep going – to rest and recover would not help him to get out of here any quicker.

'Alright... the final push' he thought, taking in a last bit of air before trying to sit up.

He felt the burn in his stomach and his back and legs as he tensed his muscles to help sit up. This brought upon him a world of pain. His whole body burned from the mere effort and he felt his wounds were opening more and allowing precious blood to escape. It was becoming too much for him. His body was too damage to require such movement. He felt the world falling away from him as he began losing hold on of consciousness.

...giving up already, private? You can rest when you're dead... I didn't think you this weak...

At his final bit of strength, just on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard the voices - this time, he heard them clear. It wasn't some voice drifting on the wind as he had thought, but rather, he was hearing something in his mind that was speaking out to him; a memory replaying in his mind. Yet, he could not tell who was speaking or even what stage of his life he recalled hearing this. The voice was old, yet it commanded with pride and experience.

Point Man wasn't sure about what he was remembering, but hearing this old voice stirred something in him. He felt an unknown fire rage inside him. The fire rose up and fuelled him with strength. The voice in this memory had called out to him, provoked him onwards, driving his motivation and conviction even at the point of complete exhaustion.

The pain in his body subsided and he was able to sit up with greater ease than before. He still felt his wounds and sore, but they didn't hinder like before.

The Point Man, now sitting upright, allowed a welcoming sigh of relief to escape his lips. It had taken a lot of effort and even more, but he was slowly making a move to get out of here. His head swam with pain now. The blood was now rushing away from his head and filtering out to the rest of his body. It was a small relief but a welcomed one. Once the last of additional blood left his head, the Point Man felt suddenly light head and faint. He quickly summoned his stable right hand to support his head, before it toppled sideways, taking him back down again.

As his hand grasped to support his head, he felt his hand collide with his combat helmet. It surprised him that it was still atop his head, but he was thank-full it was still on him, still protecting. His hand slowly felt the exterior of the helmet, moving from his right side all the way round. The helmet, like him, was badly damage. His fingers could feel the scars, cracks and dints.

As his hand past onto his eyes and the goggles that rested upon his nose, a small section on the helmet broke off and in turn his goggles cracked in half a long the bridge that joined the two halves.

From that, a soft glow filtered through his close eyelids. The glow of light was pulsating in the darkness, beating against his closed eyelids. It could b the glow of a fire or a light off a computer monitor or even a phone or radio. Whatever it could be, the Point Man welcomed it greatly.

He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them time to adjust.

From where the goggles now split apart, the Point Man could now see through. He couldn't see a great deal but it at least confirmed that he was not blind. Through the gap, he saw a fire - A small fire given its weak light. He had to conclude that the goggles' lens must have been covered up by something, to create the illusion that he was blind.

With that in mind, the Point Man reached for his helmet. He pushed it lazy with his right hand till it slid off the back of his crown. Both the goggles and helmet crashed to the floor behind him. He heard the goggles crack even more and the helmet rolled weakly off side somewhere. Next, the Point Man removed the black balaclava mask from his face.

He felt the sweat and blood covered mask slide effortlessly from his face and the air was quick to greet his skin with a cold wind. His dark hair dropped lazy upon his head. It was messy and sweaty now that the mask was gone. He slid his right hand through his hair, allowing the hair to stand up and lean back. His hair was now mid length. Before starting his mission as an F.E.A.R Operative, he had cut it short, but now it had grown back.

'How long have I been in this hell?' he questioned, running his fingers through his hair once more.

He had no answer. Time felt alien to him now. What he thought as a few days may be more like weeks – there was no way on telling till he found a computer that was still operational or someone who survived the blast who had a faint idea of the time or date.

Pushing that aside, Point Man, from where he sat, examined his situation and location.

The roof above him was gone, most likely collapsed in; as he could see the remains of the roof had littered the room around him. From what he could see of the room, it was rather small in size, something like a cheap apartment. He couldn't tell much aside from that, there was too much dust, too much rubble and not enough light to see. The wall that lay before him was cracked open, like something had ripped through it.

Through this opening, he could see a small portion of the ruins of Fairport City. It was night outside. There were fires burning somewhere close by. The buildings were all in ruins or nearly collapsed - windows were shattered, telephone lines hung lifelessly or littered the ground with their electrical power line, the road were crack and scared and cars were burnt down to their frames or tossed aside like garbage.

Point Man sighed heavily. First he felt sadness, but it was quickly overcome by guilt. He had caused this ruin. The Vault's reactor blowing was his doing, in an attempt to stop Alma. He was trying to keep her from escaping.

'So much good that did'

Point Man lowered his head in defeat. His vain attempt was for nothing. The city laid in ruin; the citizens were mostly likely all dead or wounded somewhere in the streets or buildings and the very monster he tried to stop was now free.

His thoughts and guilt weighed heavily upon him.

He stared blankly at his legs, his mind swarming with the sights of untold devastation that lay just outside, till he notice his lower stomach was bleeding. The blood dripped from his combat vest, which showed heavy signs of absorbed blood. Seeing his own blood, and in large amounts, brought in back to the reality of his situation and how badly he was wounded.

The Point Man reached into his vest, painfully, and retrieved the last remaining medical Kits he had on him. He laid the three kits just offside and opened the lids.

'Oh...shit' he groaned, as he stared at the contents of the kits.

Each kit had a supply of needles and surgical wire, bandages, small scissors and cotton pads - these were still intact and able to be used. However, the item he really required was not so lucky. Also supplied in the medical kits was a new medical advancement in health restoration. A red coloured injector tonic that helped the body in healing wounds and burns - a rapid healing medicine. In all three kits, each vile was broken. Even the antiseptic and morphine vile were shattered.

The Point Man sighed heavily in dismay, but then chuckled half-heartedly.

'Never easy...'

Seeing as he hadn't any other option, the Point Man grabbed at the needle and surgical wire and began to do his own painful treatment. Point Man knew he had to stop his major wounds from bleeding – he felt some big wounds under his combat vest, so he decided to start there. He began to remove his gloves from his hand – firstly, he re-located his left pinkie back into its proper place. A slight sting and rise in body temperature, but nothing compare to what was soon to follow. He removed the combat armour and it off side and then slowly removed his military made clothes from his body. The blood clung heavily to his shirt and he could feel, as he removed the shirt, that some wounds had began scabbing, using the shirts as an agent to help close the wound faster. As he removed the shirt, he felt multiple wounds reopen.

He tossed the shirt aside and set to work. He threaded the needle with the surgical wire and started to work on the major wound down on his lower stomach. He took a deep breath as he dug the needle into his own flesh. His body already screamed out in pain, now he was adding to it. Each time he dug the needle in and then out, and then pulling the wound closed with wire brought new levels of pain to the existing wound, but it the long run, it would heal faster than leaving it open to bleed. Once he had closed the wounds he took a roll of bandages from one of the medicals kits and began wrapping his newly treated wound. He wrapped the bandage rather tightly to ensure the wound wouldn't reopen so easily.

He tied the bandages off, cut the remaining bandage with the scissors so he could use it later, and then began working on the other opened wounds on his torso.

It was quick work after doing just one more stitch job on his torso. The other wounds were either small flesh wounds or burns and merely required bandaging to stop the bleeding. Having finished his upper body, the Point Man moved onto his legs.

He removed his pants without even shying away at the thought of exposing more of his body. He really didn't care for such thing, nor what people would think – if there were any people still alive.

There were only two major wounds on his legs, the rest were again small flesh wounds the just needed the bandages. His first wound he picked was a large opening that started from his left hip and stretched to his front quad, just above the knee. Again, using the needle and surgical wire brought the wound to a new realm of pain. His body turned a shade of red as he held in his screams of pain. Sweat was forming rapidly and falling off his body. Steam was rising from his heated body mixing with the cold air.

As he worked on his leg, his eyes began to wander away from his task. He was distracted with the voices he had heard before. The voice of an old man – it had stirred something in him, something from long ago. The voice had shown the Point Man as weak being and while it didn't sound harsh in tone, it still awoken a defiant rage within that help him push own past the point of sheer exhaustion. He was not weak and he proved it. Somehow he felt a smile creep onto his face, but he wasn't sure why.

Returning his focus to his leg, the Point Man finished off the wound. He had started to use his second bandage roll on this wound and looked like he would need more than his last roll to complete the rest. Point Man knew he couldn't spare to save bandages on such big wounds; he had to make sure the bandage held until the wound could close properly and handle his movements while it was healing. He quickly asset each wound that remain on his legs and made note of the bigger of the wounds that really needed the rest of the bandages. The rest he would have to suffer with until another medical kit could be located.

After that, he started on the next big wound on the back of his right leg. Before he could he had to grab a new roll surgical wire, as the one he held was nearly finished and it was not enough to finish this wound. He reached for the new surgical wire in the next medical kit next to him.

As he reached for it, he paused.

His eyes peered past the medical kit and rested upon the combat shirt that he had tossed aside. The shirt was badly discoloured from its usual combat style green – mostly because of his blood, but a few dirt and brunt marks were present. But what he just noticed was that there was a name sewn into the left shoulder. Sewn into the green fabricate, with thick black thread was the name:

"WARREN"

'Warren?' he repeated, slowly.

'Is that my name?'

He repeated the name, 'Warren' both in his mind and through his lips. Was that really his name? It was so long ago since anyone had addressed him using his real name; too long in fact. He couldn't even remember his name.

Point Man grabbed his head harshly, as he tried to force his mind to remember. He recalled names, but none that responded or felt like it belong to him – the name he did recall he knew belong to others he had encounter during his mission to hunt down Paxton Fettle and then to stop Alma.

With a defeating sigh, he dropped his hands and stared back at the name written into his shirt.

'Warren...' he breathed out.

Even as he said the name and tried to imagine someone calling him by that name, it didn't feel proper to him. Everyone address him simply as 'Point Man' as part of the F.E.A.R operation and military ruling protocol.

He blinked a few times, adjusting himself to accept this as his temporary name, until he could remember his proper name. He didn't like that idea and thought it rather degrading for someone to forget their own name, but with recent events and the constant headache and hallucination caused by Fettle and Alma reaching into his mind, perhaps this was a side effect to having his mind breached so harshly and under such tension. He really couldn't remember anything of his past life clearly, just imagines and voice, nothing clear and solid.

He stared at the name for a few more second before focusing back on closing his wounds.

'Warren...I guess... it will do'

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you think of my story. If anything wrong in this chapter please bring it to my attention and I will correct it. Thanks again