AN: If this is your first time here, welcome to the mess that is Pandemonium. I'm ever so grateful for the continuous support from a fandom that's still alive and kicking (and ranting with me on tumblr). This is just the start of the remaster. They'll be less notes from me, improved style of writing and a more immersive dive into the story that should have been.
One virus, three weeks, millions dead...and I was there. My name was Alex Mercer, and my work is almost done.
Saving the world was exhausting as Alex Mercer would now learn to realise, his biomass still stirring and warping with the nuke's aftershock even after a year of solitude. Being less than three weeks old at the time, he gathered information about who he was, watched as the BLACKLIGHT Virus sucked whatever life Manhattan held on to and wore the face of the man who wanted to end it all. It disgusted him, it humoured him. Dr Alexander Mercer was crazy, psychotic almost, his intelligence proving nothing if not stupidity. The more Alex thought about what that man did, the more content he was with just being a virus. The less content he was knowing he can never be human. Even with the thousands of personalities, memories and faces stored within, he knew that none of them represented who he really was.
It was a daunting thought to have to linger in your head when your own mind was trying to realign itself. Alex sighed, it was a long year.
But even as he sat atop an apartment building that overlooked Mayfair something didn't feel right. He couldn't describe it, it was an awkward feeling that weighed heavy on his shoulders. And that was when the whispering rushed to his senses and he brought his hands to his head in pain, gritting his teeth as images, words, feelings coursed through him. The Hivemind should have collapsed with Elizabeth Greene's descent into the viral abyss but with the sensory overload suddenly providing him coordinates that blurred every time he tried to focus on it, that was enough to tell him his internal war wasn't over. It was, it was calling for him. And he was just about to call the hospital for updates too.
Clicking the stiffness out of his neck he used a hand to push off the rooftop with unnecessary force, the brick and glass cracking against the pressure as he rocketed through the air, and his hearing picked up rattled BLACKWATCH units zoning in towards Times Square. The virus still wreaked havoc in isolated spots across the city, but with it suitably contained Alex was sure they would probably fail whatever mission they were assigned to halfway and succumb to the infection. Long story short: BLACKWATCH were assholes.
It was times like these where Captain Cross would call Alex and provide intel on the twisted shit GENTEK and BLACKWATCH were preparing to do, and Alex would reluctantly rush in head first. Hell, it was the captain that informed Alex about his forgotten beginnings, how he was even brought into existence. It was the captain that informed Alex about Elizabeth Greene burying underground along with the rest of the virus to protect herself from the BLOODTOX waiting to be released across the island. It was the captain that informed Alex about the nuke ready to vaporise millions of infected and non-infected civilians that the military didn't care about. Captain Cross was a good man in his own right and it put a small frown on Alex's face when it was the Supreme Hunter that took his life. It was a shame, Alex was beginning to like that man.
He audibly winced and fell from the sky, the voices rushing back into his head and landmarking another spot in this urban playground, but it was too late as Alex tore through a skyscraper and tumbled down to ground level seconds later. The impact was devastating and with his mass concentrated and inhumanly dense, everything in his radius was thrown back and ripped out of the asphalt. People ragdolled, vehicles toppled, glass shattered, Alex gradually recovered as he pulled himself out of the crater. He suddenly felt the urge to apologise, he didn't mean to cause pointless destruction, but the off-key chorus of horns blaring angrily at him slightly pissed him off. His eyes shifted to the closest vehicle and glared at the driver with so much disgust the horn was released, and with a disappointed scoff, he broke into a sprint in the opposite direction, black and red shuddering at his legs.
Nobody was around when he jogged to a stop in front of Penn Station, aside from the wrecked APCs that made Alex's brow arch. The area triggered a daunting memory in his mind and he saw himself—the actual Alex Mercer—run through the barricaded entrance with two BLACKWATCH agents phasing through after him. It got him thinking suddenly about the dead body he inhabited, his eyes drifting down to gaze at his hands that shuddered with a virus capable of more. A virus created for biowarfare instead carrying the body of its curator. Funny, really. It was then that the chorus of whispering came to an abrupt halt and he narrowed his eyes at the barricade.
Alex stepped forward and began ripping the blockades with his hands, the metal peeling away with casual strength, and with a big enough opening forged he ducked through. Huh, it was the same as Dr Mercer left it, the ticket boxes browning with months-old dirt and the linoleum floor cracked and in need of desperate repair. Not even a quarantine unit was issued in the station for the damage was already done, the scene of Alex Mercer succumbing to his fate flashing in his eyes and as he was about to investigate, a shadow moved in his peripherals.
He pivoted fast and his arms reacted instantly, biomass shifting the human limbs to claws and he heard a laugh which he thought was his own. I mean, it did sound exactly like it. Hearing your own laugh not coming from your own mouth usually meant you were going crazy. "They called for the cavalry," he heard someone say. He called it, definitely going crazy. "But they brought the wrong man."
"Who's there?" Alex called out, although the vulnerable tone to his voice made his face grimace in disgust. He heard heels echo around the foyer and turning towards the sound, he swore the entire planet could smell how shocked he was. It was like looking in a mirror that brought out the worst of you, and the worse meaning red-hot eyes and a burning scar that stretched up the left side of your jaw. The man's smile was stuck on his face when he revealed himself, greeting Alex with an open-armed gesture and taking his usual stance with the hands in the pockets. Alex pointed with a claw, "Who the fuck are you?"
There was only one viable answer, "I'm you."
"No, the fuck you're not."
"I beg to differ."
"You'll be begging for your life when I'm done with you."
The man smirked, "Let's not get too worked up. This is your fault, Alex. I'm here because you're here."
Realization smacked him across the face yet, "Explain."
"Have we already forgotten about our heroic actions? We saved Manhattan, remember, but nuclear fission ripped us apart and we ended up like bird shit on the pier. Whatever you left behind that day manifested into something you could never be. I manifested into something you could never be. After all, you could never rise to the occasion."
Alex's guard lowered. "How is that possible?"
"What part of nuclear fission do you not understand? Although you had help from that stupid bird, it took me days to even pull my brain back together. Do you know how agonising that was for me? Of course, you wouldn't know."
Okay, he was totally bemused. A year away from this bullshit and his fucking doppelganger revealed himself as himself, slight humour in the latter's words as he spoke of his origins; how he was born. Was that the blank space Alex was talking about, the void in him that he somewhat missed? One of his claws rippled back and was placed against his chest with the sudden revelation brewing more questions than he could answer festering underneath the biomass. Then his hand tightened and Alex glared back at the man. "You didn't answer my question."
"Who am I? I am a remnant of you, of course, and so I have no name...although Mercer reminds me of the man I was before death. I was just as confused as you are right now and so I went on a journey to find myself, to see if what they've done can be redeemed. But as I thought, I now understand how humanity works. They believe that they're superior and the better race while they poison their waters, choke their skies and kill one another for the sake of territory. If there is to be any peace, it needs to be cleaned of its poisoned waters and smoky skies. It would be...the New World." Mercer's insane smile grew as he circled Alex, brushing his shoulder with his fingertips. "They would be absolute peace..."
"What are you talking about? A New World?"
"I'm planning to kill the world in order to save it."
"The world, huh? And how are you going to do that exactly?"
"The same way you infected Manhattan. I'm a simple man, the need for complexity is already in my DNA and needs to be balanced. But since you're here, my plans can finally be set in motion." Mercer moved at unimaginable speed and Alex was unable to register his movements, finding himself pinned to a column with firm hands. Coincidentally displaying the same mannerisms was one thing, moving that fast and holding Alex up with such strength was another. Just what the hell was Alex dealing with? "We can do this the easy way," an identical blade rested on his throat. "Or the hard way."
Alex chuckled, "What, and you're supposed to be the hard way?"
"I am, but since you can't handle the hard way, I'll put it on easy mode," Alex grunted as wet tendrils snaked around his body and trapped him against the column, the building rumbling and spluttering at the infestation rotting through the structure. "No hard feelings, Alex, but know that this was what you were supposed to be." Mercer released the hold on Alex's neck and watched as Alex fought against his own biomass, even tried to translate the biomass as his own but to no avail, and the former began walking out when the building started to whine under viral pressure.
Mercer climbed through the entrance and tucked his hands in his pockets again, peering over his shoulder as the building collapsed behind him, and turned to gaze at the city once the disturbance calmed. All the possibilities, the people, the variation of his virus. This was just part of his plan; to turn everyone into a single unit, a single species...that was his end game. "Show me what you're hiding, Manhattan," he sighed contently and drove his hands into the concrete beside him, thick tendrils sprouting through the road and finding its way into buildings.
―――――
"Fuck," Alex cursed and choked as he pulled himself from the rubble, clutching his right shoulder when his ropy arm dangled behind him, and his breath was stolen from him when his eyes watched the gruesome barrage exploding from under the layers of cement. Alex stepped back in horror, the nightmare actually coming to life. It was happening again, all of his hard work undone by a man with the same face. It was horrifying to witness being on the receiving end, the mass connecting buildings together and scorched cars littering the abandoned roads. How long has it been? Judging by how he could barely see the stars peeking through the changing sky, a few hours at most. So it took him a few hours to pry himself out of the rubble, he even had to lessen the density of his arm because Mercer wound the building so goddamn tight. "You've got to be kidding me," he thought aloud, his arm finally shifting back into position with a loud crack. Despite what he was seeing Alex couldn't get his mind around the fact that there was two of him, one virus with two different outlooks; surely the only person that could help was Ragland, right? He hoped so.
Alex took one last glance before jogging to a full sprint, ducking out of the way of a Walker thrown in his general direction when he rounded the corner. A pack of Hunters feasting on the remains of BLACKWATCH soldiers, no, there was something different about these ones. Their stance was lower than that of a Hunter, their muscles glowed with viral activity and spikes protruded painfully out of their backs. Mercer has already evolved an infected monster not even half a day of his sighting and it was dawning on Alex how much worse the situation was growing. He needed to get to the hospital, fast.
Dodging a few BLACKWATCH convoys and choppers on the way he finally made it to St. Paul's Hospital, bursting through the doors with hopeful vigour that the doctor could provide him with some reasonable answers. But Alex immediately felt hostility hanging in the air as he found the doctor backing away from the corpse he was assessing, surgical blade in hand and fear in his eyes. "Please," he begged. "You've said what you've needed to say. What more do you want from me?"
Alex looked unimpressed. "What are you doing, Ragland?"
"What am I doing? You came here just an hour ago threatening me out of my own morgue."
It clicked, "That wasn't me, doctor. Look, I...I need your help."
"And why should I help you?"
"Would you believe me if I said there's another me in the city?" There was a long pause that filled the morgue.
"What? How is that possible?"
"I thought you were the Doctor."
"How did this happen?"
"A year ago. Nuclear fission. Manhattan was about to get bombed and I...I couldn't let that happen."
"Wait, a nuke―" Alex continued.
"I dropped it in the Atlantic but I couldn't escape in time. I thought everything would be fine, that Manhattan would be safe but...I was wrong."
"That's impossible...two equal halves of the same virus?"
"You're the only person that can help me right now...please, Ragland." That was something he wasn't usually accustomed to: begging. But what Alex witnessed outside he needed all the help he could get, and Ragland could see the desperation in his shadowed eyes. He sighed.
"Fine, I'll help you. You've protected me this long, I can at least return the favour."
"Thank you." It was a genuine tone Alex used, a softer sigh of relief escaping his lips as his anxiety quietened a little, and Ragland gave a faint smile before returning to his work when he remembered something.
"Alex, follow me. I need to show you this before you go back out there." Ragland stepped away from the corpse and gestured to Alex to follow, the virus silently scuttling behind as he was led through a short corridor with most of the doors they passed sealed off to the outside world. It was the door ahead that Alex recognised and when they walked inside the contrast was obvious.
The morgue was bright, aside from the fact that dead bodies lay in its respective containers ready for postmortem, with many diagrams and posters about the infected and their physiology. The atmosphere in the room was warmer: the light that seeped through the cracks in the curtains spilt onto the figure that was resting peacefully in her bed, the rhythmic sounds of her deep breathing and the calm beeps of her heart monitor blending together. Should Alex wake her up? No, he shook his head, he'll let her sleep. I mean, with the condition she was in, it'd be best to get all the rest that she could get. He forwarded her bed and smiled softly, hesitantly reaching down to cup her face whilst tilting his own head. He imagined what it was like to sleep, to dream, to gather information and put them in order and lose yourself in your own mystical plane. Maybe one day he'd try it but, with the voices that haunt him every single day, the chance of doing so would be less than likely.
He side-glanced to Ragland who had sat down on the desk parallel to Dana's bed, manilla folders and documents and empty sample tubes neatly lined the desk, but it was when be brought out another tube hidden in its own dark casing did it trigger Alex's senses. "What...what's that smell?"
"What smell?" He left Ragland hanging on his question as he sniffed the air, identifying the scent and darting his eyes to the sample tube in the doctor's possession. Alex walked over to the desk and eyed the tube, the blood inside showing nothing out of the ordinary. To his standard vision, that was. He shifted his visual spectrum for a second, the reddish hue coating everything in his vicinity but leaving only himself and the blood glowing a bright orange-white. He blinked, his vision reverting back. "Alex, are you okay?"
"Is that Dana's blood?"
Ragland tensed. "I've been checking her blood every week for the last 11 months and it's only recently the sample has been showing up positive. Her body is dormant, no physiological changes, but her blood it's―"
"What strain is it?"
"...it's yours, Alex...y-you infected your own sister?"
"No...no, I didn't," Alex staggered back before spinning on his heels and heading for the door, catching a glimpse of his sister on the way. Infected Dana? Alex rolled his tongue against his cheek in sheer annoyance, Mercer fucked with the wrong family even if it was his own. "But I know who did...and he's gonna pay with his life."