Grey grass underneath her. The sky above was a blood-red. A non-existent wind moved the grass, and whistled through her ears. Her eyelids flickered. Pain engulfed her body.

Beth sat up, and groaned soundlessly as she discovered her arms, the sleeves of her uniform now burnt off, were singed and extremely red. She looked herself over, and was dismayed to find her shirt was burned halfway, exposing her flat, now reddened midriff. She was relieved to find her legs and lower uniform had not been touched, but found she had lost her boots. Her feet were bare, but unscathed.

Looking to her left, she gasped as she looked upon the tree. She was back at this desolate place. She tried to stand, but found it impossible. Her legs felt tenderised, as though they had been minced by some cruel machine.

Am I dead?

A shadow flew past swiftly from the right side of her. Startled, she reached towards her holster, and found her gun was not by her side.

Of course not, she thought, sickened by the memory. York threw it over the balcony. I think I might be dead. That would make this place-

"-Hell," she whispered to herself, feeling a tear spill freely from her eye.

"She is angry," a voice hissed.

With a yelp, Beth found her feet, and leapt onto them, ignoring the angry pain inside her body. The voice had seemed familiar, but at the same time it seemed unlike its previous owner. Saddened, almost angered. The voice contained hatred and pity.

She turned, and staggered back with another scream as she found herself face-to-face with Helen Allison. But Helen did not have the beauty she had during life. Her eyes, where the tentacle had entered, were empty; only large, black holes that seemed to stare at her despite the lack of eyes. Her once smooth, beautiful skin was now grey, and cracked, creating an ugly mask on Helen's face. Her teeth were decaying, and the breath from her mouth created the stench of bile and salty blood.

"They will all suffer as I have," Helen hissed, grabbing Beth's shoulders with dry, cracked hands anddragging her towards her decaying face. Flakes of grey came off her hands and lay on Beth's shoulders. "They deserve to suffer!"

She shook off Helen's hands, and fell backwards into a sitting position. Helen made a step forward. Beth started to crawl away backwards, but stopped as the figure of Helen Allison crumbled mystically in the air, and disappeared. She felt her heart beat upon her ribs, as though it fought desperately to burst out of her body.

"It's over," she panted, and regretted saying it as a pair of arms linked around her, and spun her around, making her face the creature of many nightmares. The black hair flowed around Beth's face, like the dark tentacles that had spawned earlier to kill Helen. The crazed eyes of the woman seemed to pierce into Beth's mind, and were burning with rage.

Beth lost her breath, and could not scream...

_______________________________________________________________________________

Jolting awake, Beth lashed out at the air, and sat up. Like in her dream, her arms and midriff were exposed and red, but her feet were still wearing her boots. She wiped at her face, and looked at the blood and sweat that had built up on her face. She had felt a gash above her left eye, but she found it the least of her concerns. Her heart still pounded after being confronted by those who had been in her dream.

"Yes," she panted. "It was all a dream. Just a dream."

She looked around her current location. It was a small, dark, damp room, coloured a dull, concrete from the dull light shining from the window above her - a window she had smashed through during her fall from York's penthouse - the room was almost pitch-black. She could make out shapes of wooden shelves, and cleaning products cluttered around the shadows. It was another janitor's closet, but without the dead janitor. Not that she complained about that missing detail.

She grabbed the radio from her side, and felt her heart sink as it came apart upon her touch.

"Perfect," she sighed miserably. "I'm on my own."

"Not quite," a voice echoed.

She looked around swiftly, eager to find the speaker. "Who said that? Reveal yourself!"

"The radio," the voice answered. "On the shelf closest to the door. That's where I'm speaking from."

Confused, she stood onto shaky feet, and shuffled to the shelf, grabbing the radio.

"Good," the voice continued. "Now, listen carefully. What I'm about to tell you is vital for your mission and your survival. You are in classified territory, so expect to run into some heavy fortification. I guarantee you will bump into Replicas, ATC security guards, and to top it off it seems you have grabbed Alma's attention."

"Alma?"

The voice sighed. "Have you seen a black-haired woman at all during this mission? Naked; pale; not good with social skills?"

Beth nodded. "Yes. That thing isn't in my mind?"

"Considering it killed a woman in front of you, I doubt it. Or we're both crazy!"

"Wait," Beth started. "How do you know all this? And how come I saw Alma and Helen didn't?"

The voice sighed once again. "I know this because I have access to all security cameras. That's what a good hacker does, after all. As for Alma, only those with an above telesthetic ability can see her."

"Telesthetic ability?" Beth asked, confused.

"We haven't got time for this," the voice groaned impatiently. "Right now, I'm the only one who can help you. As far as my terminal is showing, you are the only life sign within the vicinity. Your team's life signs are crackled, though it is probably due to still being inside the building. And considering how lucky you were to survive that fall, I think you're the best candidate for this."

"What makes you think I'm going to help you?" she asked challengingly. "I don't even know you."

"This isn't time for playing suspicion games!" the voice snapped. "If you want to know who I am, you're going to have to trust me. And considering your weapon is in pieces, I am your only chance of surviving this."

"Can I at least know your name?" she snapped.

"You can call me Telford," the voice answered. "And before you ask, I'm not worried about being discovered. I've ensured that the only ones who can hear this conversation are the ones talking this minute." A tapping sound from Telford's end of the line, and his voice returned. "Okay, the door in front of you leads to a grey corridor. Fortunately, the armory is located in this corridor, so getting a new weapon won't take long. Unfortunately, the corridor is guarded by two ATC security members. I hope your hand-to-hand skills are up to scratch. The armory requires a security code, but leave that to me. You just concentrate on neutralising those guards."

"I want to know something, Telford," Beth breathed, rubbing her arm, trying to soothe it. "Why are you trying to help me? What's in this for you?"

"I want you to catch York as much as your Captain does," Telford answered seriously. "That son of a bitch is responsible for this building, and all the deaths. I'm also hoping you might take the time to get me the hell out of here. Preferably alive."

Beth sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Okay. I'll keep you updated. And remember: Alma's attention seems to be on you."

"What do I do if I see her again?" Beth asked.

A pause. "Pray she lets you live. Good luck out there." With that, Telford was silent.