Well, well, lookie here. My first real fanfic. This was written when I thought about what could happen if my two sentient necromorph characters, Ludwig the Leaper and Vlach the Stalker, happened to meet Isaac during the events on the Ishimura, and how he might react to a couple of necromorphs HELPING him. And this is the result. I hope you enjoy it.
- Hemoptysis
Dead Space and all its characters don't belong to me, blahblahblah, all that legal jargon. The only characters I somewhat own are Ludwig and Vlach.
PS: Vlach's name is pronounced "Vlock", by the way. Thought I should point that out. And who says there couldn't be any Stalkers on the Ishimura, eh~?
oOo
Friends on the Other Side
Deep within the great steel belly of the massive mining ship know as the USG Ishimura, an engineer by the name of Isaac Clarke was currently engaged in a desperate struggle for his life, the kind of struggle that had likely only ever been fought before in the most ungodly of nightmares. Here he was, caught here on a walkway suspended over a seemingly bottomless chasm of an area leading down into God-knows-where, he couldn't see in the poor lighting. A cargo bay, perhaps? He was somewhere inside the Flight Deck… right? He didn't dare try to figure it out. His widened eyes were fixed straight ahead through the front of his helmet, sweat pouring down his forehead as his shaking hand pointed his makeshift weapon; a relatively standard 211-V Plasma Cutter. Shot after shot of Plasma Energy fired from it, into the oncoming horde of creatures hell-bent on tearing him apart. Those monsters, those… necromorphs, the scientists had dubbed them, many of them, every pair of their terribly hollow and predatory eyes trained on him as they stalked forward, scythes of bone jutting from their shoulders poised for the kill. It was all Isaac could do not to gag on the putrid stench of decay wafting from their rotting bodies, so strong he could smell it even through his helmet.
It seemed that no amount of Plasma Energy could hold back the killer onslaught. For every twisted limb severed, every grotesquely mutated body fallen, two more seemed to take its place. He could no longer even hear the sound of his Plasma Cutter firing over the awful din the monsters were making from their fanged, jawless mouths, the haunting wails reverberating off the steel-clad walls and into his skull, making it sound like there was a whole goddamned army of them. Maybe there was. All he could do was keep backing away and firing, and praying to God that this walkway didn't end in a wall or a locked door. And if it did… well, he didn't want to think about what would happen if it did.
Dammit, they were EVERYWHERE. He could even hear them scrabbling about on the ceiling, glimpse them, those necromorphs with the spidery fangs and the bladed tails, maybe even those horrifyingly infant-like ones. Isaac raised the Plasma Cutter – and his stomach plummeted upon seeing the ammo readout glowing orange and displaying a large number 0. All out.
He cursed loudly, fumbling with trembling fingers for any cartridges of Plasma Energy to reload it with, but his utility belt and his pockets were bare. Helplessly, heart-stoppingly, and life-endingly bare.
One of the scythe-wielding necromorphs lurched forward, the kind he had taken to calling "Slashers". Hissing loudly, it swung a dagger-sharp blade and, before he'd had the chance to move, tore a large gash between the armored padding of his suit and the fabric surrounding it and ripped a wide cut into his right arm.
Isaac shouted at the burning pain, the cry slightly muffled by his helmet. His Plasma Cutter slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, where it was immediately lost beneath dozens of shuffling, deformed feet. He clapped his left hand over the wound, which at this point was gushing blood at an alarmingly fast rate. Thin rivulets of crimson oozed between his fingers and dripped down his arm into a little trail of droplets on the floor.
He looked up at the advancing monsters, fear filing his eyes as he continued to back away. With no weapon, he was helpless, trapped, a mouse pinned beneath the cat's claws. He was beginning to feel light-headed, almost tired, and he knew it was from a combination of blood loss and something akin to hopelessness.
This… this is it. Isaac thought to himself. I will die here. I'm sure of it.
A large Slasher charged with a garbled bellow, and Isaac couldn't even bring himself to run as it bowled him over onto his back. The back of his head collided with the metal floor, and not even the protection the helmet provided kept the stars from winking in front of his eyes from the force of the blow. He felt dizzy... The foul creature hovered above him, keeping his body pinned to the floor under one horrible foot. Isaac stared dazedly up into its blank, hungry eyes, and just for a moment, he thought he could hear voices. Yes, voices… two of them, shouting something, coming closer, but to him they sounded like he was hearing them through a long tunnel, and a faithless Isaac couldn't help but wonder if they were simply a product of his desperate imagination. He struggled to remain conscious, but his eyesight was flickering like the overhead lights, it was so hard to see… The Slasher growled deeply, and lowered its mangled jaw to his throat...
A fist entering his line of sight made Isaac blink weakly in surprise, as it collided with the Slasher's face with enough force to nearly sever the skull from its flayed neck completely. It fell away from him with an angry roar, and something leapt over Isaac's body, he couldn't be sure what except that it appeared to be vaguely humanoid in shape. His tired eyes could barely make out its form and another's beside it, one that was far taller than the first. They appeared to be… attacking the necromorphs, driving them back, away from Isaac. The taller figure was swinging its arms wildly at the retreating necromorphs, hacking at their limbs with what resembled several long knives…
…Survivors…? Isaac wondered for a moment, but he was so tired, too tired to think anymore... As his brain finally slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he'd recall seeing is the shorter figure leaning over his body, staring curiously into his visor with orange-colored eyes as his own vision faded slowly to black and the howls of the fleeing and dying necromorphs gave way to silence.
oOo
When Isaac next opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at a ceiling that seemed unusually close, in a dark place that was most certainly not the walkway he vaguely remembered last being stuck on. He lifted his head groggily, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through the back of his skull, from where he must have struck it. On impulse, he slowly reached up with his right hand and touched the small lump that had formed under his short hair. It seemed that his helmet didn't exactly offer the greatest protection from minor head injuries… but wait. He couldn't remember taking off his helmet himself. Someone else must have removed it.
And apparently, that wasn't all. He glanced down at where he recalled the gash in his upper right arm would be; it had already been bandaged, probably by the person who had taken off his helmet. Well, they hadn't done the greatest job of it; the gauze was tied a bit haphazardly and was somewhat dingy-looking underneath his own bloodstains, but it was tight and had staunched the bleeding well.
The engineer propped himself up on his right arm, groaning at the strain under his breath. So that was why the ceiling seemed so close – he was on the top bunk of a bunk bed. But the room the bunks were situated in didn't look like it had been intended to be a living space. From what he could discern in the relative darkness, it looked like it might've been a small laboratory at some point or another. The bunks must have been moved in here later.
He rolled back onto his back in the bunk (not all that comfortable to do with his RIG on) and wondered why the hell someone would choose to live in some small, uncomfortable lab rather than perhaps one of the bedroom areas they had around the ship, or, for that matter, who exactly that someone was.
A small flicker of hope rose up inside his chest. Maybe… they were survivors! Isaac speculated happily. Maybe a whole group of them! They must have seen that I was in danger... and came to my aid! Isaac pushed himself up in the bunk, trying to see if his saviors were around. If they weren't, he'd have to thank them when they came ba-
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when his eyes just happened to glance at the foot of his bunk – and finally notice the four small, glowing orange orbs hovering over its edge. The two larger, lowermost orbs appeared to have tiny pupils, both of which were staring directly into his own. Not orbs. Eyes.
Someone – no, something – was staring at him over the edge of the bunk.
Isaac reacted solely on a mixture of pure instinct and a rush of fear-fueled adrenaline. With a shout, he threw himself forward and kicked whatever the damn thing was squarely between the eyes with one heavy boot. It collided with something hard and flat-feeling; not at all what a human face would feel like. He heard whatever it was give a loud yelp of what sounded ridiculously close to surprise, but at the moment Isaac was too busy vaulting himself over the edge of the bunk to give it much thought. He landed a bit awkwardly on his ass, but was on his feet seconds later and breaking into a clumsy run for the door he could see on the opposite side of the lab. But nothing had quite prepared even him for the sudden and very loud sound of a human's voice, not all that far behind.
"Aww, goddammit, Vlach, ya spooked him, didn't ya-?"
"He kicked me in the face!"
"Can ya blame him? If I woke up and saw yer ugly mug leerin' at me, I'd kick ya right in the face, too!"
Isaac scrambled over anything in his way, lab carts, chairs, until he finally reached the door. He tugged at the steel frame, desperately trying to pry his gloved fingertips between it and the door itself, but it stubbornly refused to budge. Great. His one chance at escape, and the door was fucking locked.
"Hey, you. Don't even bother tryin' to get through that door. We keep it locked all the time."
Isaac jumped when he realized the nearer of the two voices had addressed him, and whirled around to face the speaker, his back pressed tightly to the metal door behind him and his heart hammering in his chest. One of the speakers must have turned on the lights, since the room had finally brightened up enough for him to see his supposed "saviors".
…Necromorphs. Two necromorphs, on the other side of the room, both staring at him. A sight he both absolutely despised and by now had come to expect. Isaac swore and fumbled at his belt for his Plasma Cutter, desperate for any sort of protection should these rotten bastards decide to attack, but his fingers met nothing. Of course! He'd dropped the damn thing in that last encounter, hadn't he? He was defenseless!
And then, he realized something. Something… odd. They hadn't attacked him yet.
By now, a typical necromorph would have mindlessly charged at him and tried to sink its awful fangs into his throat, and yet, these two were just sitting there, motionless, still idly staring. They practically had him on a silver platter, and all they were going to do was sit there? Isaac stared back at them, completely perplexed. He shook his head and looked around, searching for the person who'd spoken to him. Necromorphs obviously didn't speak, so who'd been the one asking-?
"Hey. Hey, buddy. Over here." The necromorph closer to him waved a hand to catch Isaac's attention. "So, you just gonna stand there and gawk now? I already told ya, you ain't gettin' out that way."
Isaac actually almost told the thing to shut up so he could think for a minute, until the full absurdity of what exactly he'd just seen hit him dead-on, and his jaw simply dropped open dumbly, closed, opened again, like a fish out of water. Words had completely failed him.
Necromorphs. Two necromorphs. Two necromorphs that were speaking to him. In comprehensible ENGLISH.
He couldn't help but wonder if he was hallucinating this scene, was still out cold and merely dreaming this, or had finally just fucking lost it. He stared back at the speaker with eyes as wide as saucers, both horrified and yet strangely awed.
"Y-you… you just spoke to me." was all he managed to spit out.
The necromorph made a sickly sighing sound, and rolled his eyes. "No shit, Captain Obvious."
Isaac glanced at him nervously. He was one of those necromorphs with the terribly distended, spidery fangs and the fleshy, serpentine tail in place of normal human legs, the kind he had dubbed "Leapers" for their unsettling ability to… well, leap. Leap quite a distance despite having only lanky arms. Except, he'd never seen a Leaper hold itself completely upright on its ghastly bladed tail before, in such an unnervingly human-like position, or even have its hinged jaw closed. In fact, he was somewhat morbidly curious as to how the thing had learned to speak so clearly with such a badly disfigured mouth. Must've had lots of practice. Isaac thought wryly.
He watched as the Leaper got down on his belly and began dragging his way over to him cautiously. Isaac couldn't help but press himself flatter against the door behind him out of nervous impulse.
"Jeez, relax, will ya? Promise I don't bite. Not often, anyways. Here, maybe you'll calm down a bit if I introduce myself. Name's Ludwig, pal. Nice to meet ya." The Leaper extended his right hand for him to shake, staring up at him expectantly with luminous orange eyes. The engineer couldn't help but notice that the left eye had retained a grayish pupil, giving the necromorph's gaze an eerily intense, human quality he'd until now thought these creatures incapable of. His own eyes dropped to "Ludwig's" outstretched hand, to its pallid, bloodied skin and the jagged, almost claw-like fingernails (save for the ring finger, which was missing), and his nose wrinkled in distaste at the strong odor of rotting flesh that came with it.
Ludwig let his hand drop back to the floor awkwardly. "Oh, don't ya worry, I understand. You're not hurtin' my feelings." he said with a flourish, turning his back and crawling slowly away. "By this time I imagine yer not too keen on trustin' our lot, are ya?" Without warning, the Leaper suddenly lashed his tail outward, the bony blade on its tip slashing through the air within an inch of Isaac's nose. He yelped and threw up an arm to shield his face, and Ludwig immediately broke out into loud guffaws of raspy laughter.
"Just playin' with ya, man! Anyways, sorry for yer rude awakenin' earlier. You can thank twinkle-toes over there for that. His name's Vlach." He pointed with his tail at the other necromorph, who was still standing over near the bunks and had remained quiet enough this whole time for Isaac to nearly forget about it.
He gave it a strange look. It was definitely a necromorph, that he was sure of, but it wasn't a kind he believed he'd ever encountered before. It was tall, taller than him, and essentially looked like someone had stripped away a good portion of the skin and muscle from a human skeleton, revealing the now splayed-open ribcage and an apparent lack of most internal organs. The face was undoubtedly one of the most terrible he'd seen; almost all of its flesh had been torn away, leaving little more than just a bloody skull behind. Jagged, horn-like growths of bone jutted from the forehead and chin, further disfiguring the face. Only four pinpricks of orange light showed where the eyes sat deep within the sockets. Isaac's attention fell to the hands, their fingers having mutated and elongated into six very long and lethal-looking claws, which it now twiddled in front of itself anxiously, shuffling its two-toed feet. It looked so ridiculously like a huge, horrendously twisted but nervous child that he would've laughed had he been in any mood to.
"Yeah, I know he ain't pretty, but he's a nice guy, believe me." Ludwig chuckled. "That is, if ya wanna believe me."
"Vlach" sighed, and stalked across the room with his lengthy arms tucked up behind him. "Please forgive my friend here." he said in a raspy but surprisingly clear voice. "He can be a bit… crude sometimes. My name's Vlach. Well, that's not my real name, but that's what you can call me. I apologize for frightening you earlier." He wiped one hand of bloody claws on the stained and very torn-up pair of green pants he wore and held it out for a handshake.
Isaac stared at it, and decided now was probably not the greatest time to start being impolite… especially to a pair of necromorphs who'd so far shown him nothing but mercy. He gingerly grasped one claw and shook it, trying not to slice open his palm on its knife-like edge. He supposed he'd better introduce himself while they were at it. "Erm… my name is Isaac. Isaac Clarke."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clarke." Vlach said, giving him a jerky nod of the head. Isaac unconsciously allowed himself to relax, if only just a little. For a couple of necromorphs, these two seemed… alright. But he wouldn't let his guard down. Not quite yet.
"You're sure lucky that we happened to come along when we did." Vlach continued. "You would've been killed had we not heard those necromorphs making such a racket and come to investigate."
"But kickin' some ass and helpin' ya out was my idea, o' course!" Ludwig cackled. "Look, we even fixed up yer arm for ya! Wasn't that nice of us?"
Isaac glanced down at the bandage tightened around his arm again. He was somewhat surprised the two seemed to be familiar with the term "necromorph". Maybe they'd heard it used somewhere around the ship. Well, isn't that ironic? he thought to himself. I've spent this entire time on the Ishimura fighting against these bloodthirsty, mindless monsters, and when I'm in the worst spot of trouble, I'm saved by two of them. He fought the urge to chuckle. But in his mind, he felt a sense of confusion on the rise. He couldn't help but question… why?
"…Why would you help me?" the engineer asked slowly. "I mean, wouldn't saving my life be like… going against your nature or something? Against your kind's intended purpose? Why would you do that?" He narrowed his eyes and added, "And why should I completely trust you? It's not like I have your word that you won't disembowel me the second I turn my back…"
Ludwig made a huffing sound. "Tch, ya really think we'd lump ourselves in with the rest o' those… eh, whaddya call things like us again…?"
"Necromorphs, Ludwig." Vlach sighed impatiently. "The scientists called us necromorphs."
"Yeah, whatever." the Leaper replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Point is, we obviously ain't like the rest of 'em. You've probably figured that out by now. Maybe we're special, or maybe we just got lucky. Hell, for all we know, we could be, like, the 'chosen ones' or some hokey shit like that. Either way, we can think. More than meets the eye, y'know?" He tapped the side of his head and winked. "And believe me, pal, if we wanted ya dead, we would've done it by now. You'd be in pieces. But I think we're a lil' better than that, wouldn't ya agree?"
"We like to think we're a bit more sophisticated than your average necromorph." said Vlach.
Isaac could still hardly believe what he was hearing. "But that's just it…" he said. "You're the only examples of free-thinking necromorphs I've seen so far. You're not mindless killing machines. You still remember how to act human. You can still think and function on this higher, rational level... What sets you apart from the rest of these creatures? Why were you able to retain your memories when no one else was? Maybe an error in the virus...? Some kind of, I dunno... genetic anomaly...?"
There was a brief, thoughtful pause until Ludwig broke it. "Ain't THAT the million-dollar question!" he barked. "And hold up just a minute, man. It's not like we can remember a whole lot 'bout our former identities or whatever. Shit, I wouldn't even know my own name if it hadn't been written on my tag when I transformed... and if I'd been unlucky enough to have no tag at all, then, well... all I might've had to go by are... these." Ludwig rolled his shoulders forward, and Isaac could just now make out the faint shapes of several large tattoos up and down the lengths of his lanky arms; they might've been sleeves at some point or another, but by now most of them had either faded into muddled blobs in death or had been lost altogether where the skin had torn off. The only one that was still somewhat intact was on the left shoulder, depicting what appeared to be a demonic skull-headed creature with a heavy chain around its neck, held by a beautiful (and nearly naked) young woman. A clear enough distinguishing feature from the many other Leapers he'd run into, most definitely.
"...I can't remember anything, either. My real name's long gone." Vlach said sadly. "The only thing I can recall clearly is my brother… he was with me when we were… reanimated, I'll call it." His sunken eyes seemed to gain an almost somber look. "But he wasn't quite as fortunate as I was… we both looked the same, but he returned a mindless shell. Just like the others..." He trailed off into silence, and Ludwig reached up and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. As utterly repulsive as these monsters were, Isaac couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for these two. Not too long ago they'd been human, just like him, and now they'd been reduced to little more than mutated, walking corpses, meant to kill and nothing else. And worst of all, they, unlike their fellows, were consciously aware of it, each and every minute. In his eyes, a fate worse than death.
"So… you two must've been employed here on the Ishimura, then." he said quietly. "Tell me, are there… others like you? Sentient necromorphs, I mean."
The Leaper shrugged. "Dunno. But hey, there were over a thousand people on this ship 'fore it all went to shit, am I right? Odds are we ain't the only two around… but no, we haven't come across any others yet. Could be hidin' out… or gotten themselves killed already. No idea."
"We've tried sending out audio transmissions around the ship…" Vlach explained. "You know, trying to get in contact with any possible survivors in hiding, maybe even other intelligent necromorphs… hasn't worked out for us so far. Most of the time the transmission doesn't get through due to system failures, or we never get a response when it does. But we'll keep trying as long as we have to."
"But enough 'bout us." Ludwig said coolly. He stretched his massive fangs wide in a yawn. "Tell us 'bout yerself, Isaac, m' boy. Are you a survivor?"
"No… at least, not exactly." he responded. "I came here only a short while ago aboard the Kellion, with my crewmembers. We were sent to respond to the Ishimura's distress signal, to investigate, maybe make some repairs... something went wrong with the automatic docking, I'm not sure exactly what, and we wound up crash-landing into the ship. Two of the crewmembers were killed by necromorphs soon afterwards, and the other two… aw, hell…" Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten about Kendra and Hammond in all this excitement, probably holed up somewhere, trying to reach him. He should've contacted them as soon as he'd regained consciousness! They probably thought he was dead! Isaac quickly opened up a com-link, searching for either of their signals.
"C'mon, c'mon…" he muttered under his breath. He desperately willed the com-link to connect, to pick up something, anything, even the tiniest little blip on the signal to assure him they were okay, but he received nothing. No signals, no snippets of voices through the static, nothing.
"Trouble in paradise?" asked Ludwig, reclining idly against a steel table.
The engineer cursed, and cut off the link. "I can't seem to get in contact with them around here. Can't pick up on their signals. They probably think I've been killed by now…" He gave the pair a serious look. "I can't stay here any longer. I've wasted enough time. Do you guys know the nearest exits? Perhaps an elevator to an upper floor, anything like that?"
"Well, there is an elevator to the left, down the corridor and to the right…" Vlach rasped. He cocked his head to one side. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough to be running around out there? It's dangerous and you did lose a fair bit of blood… don't need you hurting yourself again."
"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've been standing here doing nothing long enough. I have to get in touch with Kendra and Hammond." And then he added, without really thinking about it, "And I have to find Nicole."
"Alright, alright, we gotcha. Jobs to do, people to see, right? Just hold up, I've got yer stuff right he- wait." Ludwig paused. "Nicole? That name… it sounds familiar to me. I'm pretty sure I know a Nicole from somewhere."
Hope began to swell in Isaac's chest. "You do? Can you remember her last name?"
"Er…" The Leaper screwed up his contorted face in concentration, tail-blade twitching. "Somethin' with a B, I think. Brandon, Brenton…? Somethin' like that. Saw her on a couple o' video logs I scrounged up one time. Cute blonde chick, shorter hair. That her?"
"Th-that's her!" Isaac burst out. "Nicole Brennan! H-have you seen her? Do you know if she's okay? If you know anything, anything at all, please tell me!"
Ludwig seemed taken aback at Isaac's sudden outpouring of questions. "Ah, Brennan! THAT was the name. Sorry, pal, can't say I've seen her or know where she's at. I might've spoken to her once or twice in life, but all I know now's what I heard from a couple o' video logs and a few audio ones. Don't have those anymore, 'fore ya get yer hopes up." He shrugged. "Sorry."
"Oh…" Isaac tried his best to hide the wave of disappointment that plummeted into his stomach. "That's fine. Don't worry about it."
"Why are you so interested?" Vlach asked curiously.
"Oh for God's sake, Vlach, are ya REALLY that dense? She's gotta be his gal, o' course." Ludwig turned and gave him a smug grin (which, with a mouth like his, was nothing short of terrifying). "Am I right?"
"Uh, yeah. She's my girlfriend…" Isaac said, flushing slightly.
Ludwig made a sound that Isaac assumed to be a wolf-whistle that wasn't quite intended to be made through torn-up lips like his. "Then what the hell're ya doin' hangin' around here, boy? There's a damsel in distress callin' yer name somewhere on this shitheap! Ya gotta get yer ass back out there and find her! Oh, yeah, and them lil' teammates ya mentioned before." He launched himself across the room with one powerful leap, and started rummaging for something next to the bunks. Vlach shook his head and gave Isaac an apologetic glance.
The engineer couldn't help but chuckle. "He's got a point. I've spent more than enough time hanging out." He looked over the two necromorphs with a sudden strange feeling of appreciation. "…Thanks. To the both of you. For saving my life. I'm in your debt."
"No need to thank us, Mr. Clarke." Vlach said with a short bow. "Happy to lend a hand to the sole survivor we've seen." He turned and walked over to a wide panel set in the wall, something that appeared to be a sort of manual switch station. With one bony claw, he flipped a switch, and the door behind him made a low beeping sound and slid open. "We'll accompany you to the elevator. We don't want you to get lost, especially in a terrible place like this..."
"Thanks." Isaac said. And he meant it. It was nice to finally have a little company, if only for a few minutes. Tackling hordes of vicious undead by yourself with nobody but your crewmembers barking orders at you every so often via com-link to go with you made you grateful for it, even if that company was provided by a couple of self-aware and decidedly eccentric necromorphs.
"Hey, Isaac. Forgettin' somethin'?" The engineer turned just as something large and rounded in shape was lobbed in his direction. He reached out and caught it, turning it over in his hands. His helmet! He couldn't believe he'd nearly forgotten it. He pulled it back over his head. Looks like he was back to viewing things through the confines of a visor for now.
"Oh, yeah, and 'fore I forget, we found this after the brawl." Ludwig shuffled towards him with the tip of his tail wrapped around the handle of a large, squarish tool; his Plasma Cutter! Isaac wasn't sure he'd ever been so happy to see a simple tool in his entire life.
"Thank God! I thought this thing was lost for good. Thanks for grabbing it for me." He took it and aimed, carefully examining it. It seemed to have survived intact, and he noticed that it had been fully loaded again. "Did you reload it, too?"
"Damn straight! We find ammo and shit layin' around all the time. We tend to pick up and save whatever might be useful. Here, take all ya need." Ludwig held up a small box, and Isaac looked inside to see cartridges of Plasma Energy thrown haphazardly inside. A lot of Plasma Energy. He wasted no time in reaching in and grabbing as much of it as he could, hooking it up to his utility belt and stuffing his pockets with the rest. "Thank you so much. I appreciate the generosity."
"Well, like Vlachy-boy said, ya don't gotta thank us." Ludwig said with a wink. "Happy to help a brother out. Now, we gotta get outta here! Time's a-wastin', and yer hottie's waitin' for ya! Let's go, let's go!" He began to nudge Isaac towards the open door, before he could even get a word in edgewise. Vlach rolled his eyes and followed them out, shaking his head at Ludwig's rude behavior.
"Okay, okay, just relax…" Isaac said. He managed to pull out the Plasma Cutter and hold it at the ready as they made their way out into the outer hallway. The white lights above reflected harshly off the metal walls and floors, casting a bright, almost antiseptic glow across every surface. There was no movement, no signs of life; just a trail of blood leading down the corridor along with generous amounts spattered against the walls and windows.
"Absolutely filthy…" He faintly heard Vlach mumble behind him. He had to bite his tongue to keep away the sudden, maddening urge to laugh. How ironic that a necromorph would find blood filthy.
The hallway was just wide enough for the unusual trio to walk at each other's sides, and it was pretty much the strangest damn thing Isaac had ever done. Here he was, literally walking with the enemy, a Leaper trotting amiably on his gangly arms at his left and a type of necromorph he wasn't even sure about on his right, his claws tucked away and looking even more nervous than he himself felt. The only word he could think of to describe it all was... well, "surreal".
"Pretty quiet 'round here right now…" Ludwig commented, bounding forward and clinging to the wall where the hallway forked into two, towards the right. "Maybe we got lucky. This place was pretty insane not too long ago."
"Yeah, you're telling me…" Isaac responded. The silence was starting to make him a little uneasy. It felt like that calm, breezeless period right before a storm.
They took the right hallway and kept up the pace, occasionally passing an adjacent hallway, but Ludwig kept them going straight ahead. Every so often, the faint shriek of a distant necromorph could be heard beyond a locked door, but none close enough to be considered a real threat… not yet, anyway. The bloodied torsos and scattered limbs he was stepping over reminded him that no place on this damned ship was truly safe. Especially with those fucking vents.
"We've almost reached the elevator." Vlach said, glancing at Isaac. He had to turn his entire head to be able to see him through the sides of his eye sockets, the poor guy. "And I believe I may have a proposition for you, Mr. Clarke."
"What kind of proposition?" Isaac asked cautiously. "And you don't have to keep calling me 'Mr. Clarke', by the way. Just call me Isaac."
"Very well, Isaac." said Vlach. "I was just thinking… by this point, you've probably realized that we mean you no harm, correct? So I've decided… as long as you're here on the ship, we shall do everything within our power to help your endeavor."
The engineer looked up at him in surprise. "Really? You'd put your own asses on the line and… defy your creation or whatever… just to help me?"
"That's what he said!" Ludwig chuckled. "I mean, why waste our talents doin' nothin' when we could be usin' them to help out a pal in need? And besides, it ain't often that you've got two o' the enemy ready and willin' to lend ya a hand, am I right?"
Isaac couldn't really argue with that logic now, could he? But… could he really bring himself to trust them? They were necromorphs, after all, no matter how well-mannered they behaved… but they'd done nothing to suggest malicious intent towards him so far. Hell, it was because of them that he was still alive in the first place… why not take chances?
They reached the end of the corridor, at the doors to a maintenance elevator. Vlach tapped at an arrow button projected on a screen to the right of the doors, and a faint clattering sound could be heard at the elevator began to drop down the shaft.
"Should you ever find yourself in another bad situation…" Vlach began, "Try and send us a distress signal. Any way you can, really. Over the intercom, via RIG, however you want. We'll keep an eye on the working computers in case they pick up your signal. Just call for us… and we'll try to get there as quickly as possible."
"I will." Isaac replied. "Thanks again, you two... I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for your help back there." He chuckled weakly. "I'll admit, it's something I never would have expected from necromorphs."
"You've just never met necromorphs like us, man." Ludwig winked. He propped himself up on his tail and pulled Isaac into a one-armed hug. Isaac wrinkled his nose at the faint, acrid reek of his rotting flesh, trying not to gag on it.
"Good luck to ya, pal!" The Leaper said with a pat on his back. "Hope ya find yer fair damsel!"
"Yes, good luck, Isaac." Vlach rasped, offering his clawed hand again, "I hope you and your crewmembers make it out of here intact… and find your girlfriend."
"Thank you, Vlach." Isaac said, carefully shaking a claw. "It means a lot."
The elevator finally clanged to a halt at the bottom of the shaft, the steel doors sliding open to its bloody interior. Isaac cringed at the sight. He had one foot inside before a sudden, random question popped into his head. It seemed so damn obvious to ask that he vaguely wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier, much less asked it.
He turned slowly around to face the two necromorphs. "…What's it like?"
Vlach cocked his skull-like head curiously. "I beg your pardon?"
"What's it like… being one of them?" Isaac asked. "A necromorph? I couldn't help but wonder… it's perfectly alright if you don't want to answer, I understand..."
"Well, if ya look at the pros, it ain't as bad as you'd think, provided you can think for yerself, o' course." Ludwig answered. "Ya don't have to eat, don't have to sleep. Don't even have to use the toilet. Plus, sometimes ya end up with some pretty useful abilities. But…" His expression suddenly looked wistful. "Sometimes, ya kinda miss the whole eatin' and sleepin' thing, y'know? The simple pleasures in life. Not to mention the whole 'Oh yeah, you're dead' thing, and missin' the company o' the ladyfolk in bed, if ya catch my drift-"
"Alright, Ludwig, alright, I'm sure he gets it." Vlach interrupted quickly. "You're rambling now, and Isaac's got places to be, I'm sure." He nodded his head at the engineer. "Take care, sir. Stay safe."
"Yupyup! See ya later, buddy!" Ludwig waved.
Isaac chuckled and returned the wave, stepping backwards into the elevator and tapping the panel to go upwards. As the doors slid closed, he saw Vlach wave his claws and Ludwig give him a mock-salute.
The elevator rattled up the shaft, and Isaac leaned against against the grimy wall, thinking about the experience he'd just been through. In all his forty-three years, he'd seen some pretty strange shit, but this had taken the top prize without a single doubt. He wondered if he should tell Kendra and Hammond about what had happened to him. Yeah, might as well; it couldn't hurt to know that perhaps not all of these creatures were bad. And it would probably be disastrous if Ludwig and Vlach happened to show up around them unannounced... yeah, definitely disastrous. But he didn't mind his precarious situation. In fact, his near-death experience had ironically ended up being beneficial. Worth it, even.
The elevator reached its destination, and opened onto a dark hall lit only by a series of lights built into the walls about an inch up from the floor. He raised his Plasma Cutter and pointed it down the corridor. The light it projected reflected faintly on the pools of blood and the glassy eyes of deceased Ishimura crewmembers not yet transformed by the infection. A sight he had grown all too desensitized to. At the very least, he could exit the elevator and set foot into a very literal hellhole with the slightest amount of pressure lifted from his weary mind.
After all, it didn't hurt to have friends on the other side.
oOo
And that's it. I hope you enjoyed this little insight into the minds of sentient necromorphs. I know I'm not much of an author, but I don't think it was that bad for a first try. Reviews are much appreciated!
(Also, yes, I decided to arm him with only the Plasma Cutter. Takes away from the tension if he pulls out the "video game logic" and just whips out another weapon out of nowhere, don't you think?)
PS: ...If you know what movie I sort of "borrowed" the title of this fanfic from, I love you. Hahaha.