Strange Growths

by Cakes Blargh

Patrick Gordon. Accountant, divorcee, and attentive father. His bowling league think he's a little weird, but a nice guy. He's not what his mother wanted him to be... but when his 'brother' comes calling, he might have to embrace his family legacy after all. Sometimes a Pariah just can't run far enough away.

10. Judgment

AN: The final chapter of Of White Doves and Black Ravens arc.

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Chapter Nine: Judgment

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2003, Vandenberg Air Force Base

The image was fuzzy and pixelated but for its time, it was the best thing they have. The boy sat there on the other side of a large examining table, his eyes lowered as he absentmindedly drew softly on its surface with his small fingers. His hair was shaved, electrodes all over his scalps with some wires going beneath his shirt and on his wrists.

"Can you tell me about the dreams you have, Pariah?" The voice muffled under the layers of rubber and plastic, the video recorder hardly the state of art in sound quality.

"They're…" The boy's fingers stopped in their fidgeting. He took far too long to answer.

"How often do you dream about them?" The speaker asked helpfully.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I don't need to be sleeping. They are just… there."

"Can you describe them for me?"

He was silent for a while, staring at his hands on the table. "Red," he said one word. "I remember voices." He paused again, still looking down on his hands.

"Go on."

"They're not… They weren't talking."

"Talking?"

"Yeah, talking like we are. Like… they're not saying words." The boy looked up, his hazel-green eyes contemplative.

"Are you saying they're not talking in English?"

"No, no." He shook his head. "They're not talking with words."

The speaker paused, he remembered this was the moment they scribbled down in their notes. "Alright, then. Did you understand them?"

He stilled and was quiet again. "Yeah."

"What did you think they were saying?"

"It hurts. Like they were screaming in pain. It was so bright, so loud. Then they stopped."

More scribbling down. "Anything else you remember?"

"Buildings. A place, I think. I don't know where. But… I remember words on a big board."

"Can you recall them for me?"

"I-I don't know." He shook his head slowly.

"How about you draw it for me, can you do that?"

He nodded stiffly. A paper and a pen were pushed towards him, his small pale hand grabbed his drawing utensil and began his thin scribbles of a town with a welcome signboard overlooking it. It took a while, the silence awkward with the sound crackling at the speaker's fidgeting on his seat, the boy finally showed his picture.

"What does that sign say?"

He squinted. "Welcome to… Hope, eye-duh-ho."

A click, he stopped the video with a button. He remembers. The man rested his head in his hands as he stared down at the scribbled words on his notes, his only light illuminated by the frozen screen of the black box.

He wasn't crazy. The boy somehow remembers. But how? No one told him about Hope, let alone the circumstance behind that name. He ejected the tape and carefully he placed it back in a box labeled: 10. The man then skimmed through another box labeled: 12, muttering to himself and massaging his face. He ran his hand through what was left of his white-gray hair before he blinked and found the tape he was searching chronologically. Imaginary Friend. Snatching it, he quickly put it in place then forward through its content, frowning and trying to remember a particular recording session.

"Pariah, do you ever find it odd that you haven't grown an inch?"

The same eight-year-old boy sat slumped on his seat, his dark brown hair had grown lighter. There was a bored expression on his face.

He muttered something.

"A bit louder, Pariah. We couldn't quite catch that."

"Not really," he said louder.

"Don't you want to be tall?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, there's benefit in growing. You can reach for things that you couldn't have reached before, you can do more things."

He sat there and blinked.

"Now… I'm going to show you a picture and I want you to explain them for me. Can you do that?"

"Okay." What a straightforward kid.

Pariah sat up and stared at a photo of scribbles and childish drawings on white walls.

"This is my drawing," he said simply.

"Care to explain who are the figures in those images?"

"My mother," he said in the same straightforward manner, his chin lifted up to stare at the speaker, his hands sitting on the edge of the photo.

"Why do you think she's your mother?"

"She likes to sing me lullabies. She makes the dreams... nice."

"Do you like that she's your mother?"

The answer was simple. "Yes, I like her."

"What is she doing in the picture?"

"She's sleeping. She sleeps all the time… waiting. She likes doing that. It's what I should be doing too."

"Do you talk to her often?"

"Sometimes. In dreams. But… she isn't… she isn't like you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She can't talk properly. Like… she repeats things, sometimes she doesn't respond. I don't think she understands at times."

"She can't hold a conversation?"

"Yeah…" The boy sat there glumly. "She's more like the dreams. More like… the voices."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"Do you care?"

He shrugged again.

"You don't hold it against her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like do you feel sad, angry that she's not acting the way you want."

The boy sat there, just staring. Finally, he said, "Should I be?"

"Would you be willing to have your sleep read and recorded?"

"Why?" It was just simple curiosity.

"We want to know what your brain is doing while you talk… to your mom."

"I don't see a problem." The boy shrugged.

"Besides your mom, who are the other figures?"

"My sisters."

There was a long pause from the speaker. "Can you tell me how many sisters you have?"

"One-two?" The boy sat and blinked as he counted with his finger. "I don't know, they're all the same to me."

"Do you care about them?"

"Not really."

"Why's that?"

"They can't hear me but I can hear them. Why can't they hear me?" he asked the speaker.

"Well, Pariah, we aren't actually sure."

"I think my mother can hear them but… I don't think she minds them very much."

More scribbling down happened off-screen.

"One of them is crossed out, care to explain?"

"I don't know." The boy shrugged. "She just stopped. I can't hear her voice anymore."

"Do you miss her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you feel sad that she's gone?"

"...No?" the boy said slowly, his bright green eyes confused for a moment.

"How long have you been aware of your mother?"

"I… don't really know. I think always. Like she's always been there, I just didn't understand."

"Do you think she's real?"

"What do you mean?"

"Pariah, dreams come from a place in your brain, mostly the same place where your feelings come from. Your brain is telling you a story, sorting out information you learn when you were awake, but they are just stories that happen only in your head."

"So are you saying she's not real because she didn't happen to meet you?"

"No, Pariah. She isn't real."

The boy sat there and just stared. There was no change of feature in the pixelated picture.

"Are you upset?"

"No. I'm just wondering. Don't I have a mother then?"

"Someone who gave birth to you?"

The boy nodded.

"Yes. But she died a long time ago, Pariah."

He forwarded the recordings… dreading the next session, knowing what had happened in between.

"Pariah, how do you feel?" A different person, a different speaker. A woman this time.

The boy shrugged.

An arm, covered with rubber material appeared on screen, it placed a photo on the table and pushed it toward the kid.

"I want to know what were you thinking when you touched that man."

"I wanted him to meet mother," the boy said quietly as he sat sideways on his chair, slumped as he leaned his cheek against the back. "He said she wasn't real because she never met him. I ask my mother how he could meet her. She told me how to do it."

"What did you do?"

"They say I killed him, just like I killed the pretty white bird," the boy muttered. "They hit me."

"Are you sad?"

"No," the boy said simply.

"Do you feel angry that they hit you?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It doesn't."

"How did you feel when you touched him."

The boy sat there and for a moment, he looked up and said something too low to be heard.

"Pariah? A bit louder, please."

"I want to go to sleep," he said then looked back down on his chair.

He pressed rewind then quickly played it again. The boy liked to play riddles, it was just another puzzle. He would mouth words breathlessly as he played, but he only developed this habit later on. This was the start of his habit. The scientist repeated the scene three times, then five until finally, he sat looking at his notes.

Felt right.

The man sighed heavily at his desk and brushed through his worn face before he stopped the video. He then stared at his notes. How could they have missed the connection? Did they just dismiss this as some make-believe from the boy?

"We went over this before. When we set up the session we only got dead readings from Elizabeth Greene. Check the timestamp if you're not sure. Face it, doc. There's nothing in there in her head. The boy was just making things up."

"But he knows!"

"I suspect one of you scientists have a loose lip and I'm gonna get to the bottom of this, you hear me. And seriously, you believe the kid is talking to his dead mom on the other side of the States? What did they hire you for, doc?"

After that, there was an incident with one of the experiment. Pariah grew more reserved, he would talk less over time, to the point he wouldn't say anything and just point at the cards provided to him. Not even with him now. He even lacked the initial curiosity, one that was dangerous if anything how he reacted to one of the German Shepherd that snarled and snapped at him.

He had liked to draw, liked to watch documentaries, and liked to go over puzzles slowly. There was that one time he played hide and seek with one of the Blackwatch's soldier. Stuck in a locker and grinning when they found him. He threw a tantrum once when they had to drag him to an early shower.

But over the course of years, he changed and grew less expressive, wouldn't respond properly. He wondered if his junior scientists were right. The boy was mentally degrading. His brain showed fine, in fact, it was like a brain of an adult man if the recent MRI scans were true. But the electrical readings had lowered compared to ten years ago.

The boy was entering a catatonic state almost like his mother.

Almost.

"Hayden?"

He turned around from his desk and looked at the Blackwatch's scientist.

"Nathan, I thought you were going to be transferred?" Hayden said with a frown.

"I will be, I just had to do the last record keeping," the man said stiffly. "You're still curious, huh…" He looked at his notes.

Hayden put his arm over the paper and pushed it out of his view.

"You know, you shouldn't have stepped down if you wanted to keep working," the man pointed out.

"I'm too old and tired of dealing with Blackwatch's demand. Let others do it," Philip Hayden snorted and stood up. "Going out for a last drink?"

"No, I'm just going to finish my packing before I transfer to New York." The man shook his head then walked out.

Philip stared after him then sighed before he looked down at his watch. He should get ready, he had a reservation tonight.

---

Sometimes he wondered why he bothered making the same reservation every year, on the very same date, at the same very restaurant. It was a big waste of money when he thought about it, just pure sentimentality. Philip Hayden sat there at the table by the window, overlooking downtown Los Angeles. The steak dinner he ordered barely touched before him.

"Hank, sweety, you shouldn't be sleeping here," a mother murmured at the boy nodding off. "Philip, I'm sorry, but can we leave early?"

Hayden blinked then glanced sideways from the table.

A small family of three. Considering how high-class this place was, it would be wasted to just up and leave. He waited for the sound of annoyance from the man, or at least a sigh.

"Sure, Lin," the man murmured almost too quietly. He only smiled amusedly at the young boy beside his seat before he stood up.

"Thank you." The mother sighed and joined him as well.

"It's alright, I got him," the man said and pulled back the boy's chair, lifting the boy up into his arms.

Hayden watched as the family left and disappeared out of his sight. He blinked before turning back to his dinner, not sure what to feel. Regret? Wistful? There was no point of thinking what-if.

"Sir," a waiter called out before him.

He frowned and looked at him.

"Your wine." The young man offered a bottle of red wine on his tray.

"I've already had one," Hayden said with annoyance, gesturing the white wine glass on his table. This better not be a scheme from them to open up his wallet more.

"Ah, but this was given to you by a gentleman," the man interjected.

"Who?"

"The man who was sitting there." He pointed at the empty seat where the family of three was. "He had a son and wife. Oh, he also asked to give you this," the waiter said and gave the folded reservation card.

Philip Hayden took it then frowned when he opened it. Before he could say anything, the waiter left with the bottle of wine placed on the table. He sighed before he looked back down at the card.

Ne touchez pas aux blessures guéries.

For a long time, the old man stared at the French words before he looked at the bottle given to him. 1960. What a horrible humor the world had for him today.

---

2015, Houston, Texas

His first memory was that of confusion and pain, his chest flaring and his lungs heavy. Where am I? What happened? Who am I? All that he could grasp was the name: Alex Mercer. His name and that he needed to go somewhere, somewhere away from the loud noise of the alarm. He staggered after the scientists since they knew more about him than he did. His next moment was seeing Blackwatch shooting the scientists dead.

He recognized death, knew enough back then that he didn't want to end up like them, bleeding on the ground with a hole through the head. And then it was a blinding blur of adrenaline, fear, anger and being hunted down, wondering why, just why was he being hunted down.

What did he do?

And that he had to kill them to make them stop.

He thought he was just going to die in that alleyway. The pain, the burst of energy, the confusion and the questions all slipping away as his body finally hunkered down. Too tired to even respond to the sound of footsteps, too tired to even look up or twitch a finger. It was only the burst of a new pain, another bullet to his head that he finally got up and his body reacting with a mind of its own.

Everything was so easy. How he jumped, how he could run up walls, how easy he killed them and consumed them, even took their form with a simple mental twitch. The thought of using this trick on that commander and doing the same didn't perturb him.

He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, all he knew that this was how he was going to find out what was going on. It was clear, Blackwatch was not going to just let him learn the truth. They were willing to go after his sister. They were willing to destroy his home. They were willing to kill him. They were willing to take everything away from him. And for what?

Searching for the truth only ended up releasing Greene. The answers she gave only brought more questions and more death that he had unleashed. Eighteen days of hunting, running, fighting. Eighteen days of bullets, claws, blinding and deafening explosion, and roars. He had to stop them. Stop Greene. This was the only experience, the only life that was his.

He could never imagine a future after all the fighting was done for. In fact, he had resigned himself that this was the life he was meant for. It suited the life of the Monster of Manhattan.

Was that sad? Was that pitiful?

When all that has been said was done, he would be waiting beside his sister. Days standing around, days waiting as she slept, those days turned into months. This time it wasn't truth he was hunting, but a way to help his sister. A way to stop the disease track in her.

Then the months of his hunting ended when he met him.

A thirty-nine years old man in business clothes, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles and a stupid bow tie.

This was the answer to his sister's problem.

Un-fucking-believable. He felt angry. This was just a giant huge joke from Greene. He couldn't be it! He couldn't be Pariah. Except he was. This ridiculous man who easily smiled back at him even after he had punched him in the face with enough force to crack a skull into a paste.

Who wanted to eat taco after he trashed his office?

Who stuck to them like some… some...

Before he knew it, his life of hunting ended just like that. Here he was in Houston instead, being a brother to Dana, searching for a life outside the ones that only he knew, a way to live without compromise. Why did Pariah help them? Why did he give them this life? Just why?

"You think he's a good person?" Dana mumbled as she rested her head on the desk. Her eyes drowsy and almost shutting.

"I don't know, Dana."

"You know, he could have taken his mother away."

"If he really cared, he should have broken his mother out and stopped Gentek right there and then. He could have… stopped all of it from happening."

"I think he would have, Alex. And I think it wouldn't end well for everyone if he did."

"What makes you say that?"

"Greene," Dana said quietly and closed her eyes. "They loved her, Alex. He loved her…"

"How do you know this, Dana?"

"Sometimes I remember," Dana murmured in her sleep. "I don't like to. But I know. A part of me doesn't want to forget."

He never really got his answers. He had other concerns at the time. Pariah in some way still eluded him. And frankly, he didn't care. If he wasn't following his mother, fine. That was all that mattered, and it was none of his business.

He couldn't say the same with Pariah when it came to keeping his nose out of theirs, even after all these years. Alex narrowed his eyes slightly over his shoulder as he heard the flock of pigeons parted in flight.

Houston was a hot, flat, ugly city even in November. It sprawled from horizon to horizon with highways carving through and around it, dividing the city into two: out of the loop, in the loop. The traditional suburbs and its community ruled near the edges and from miles to horizon oil refineries and chemical plants crept along and stood by the residential areas. Near the center, car parks, museums, art galleries, malls, corporate high-rises and skyscrapers spread around in their own districts with the occasional skylines straying from there on, out of their place amongst the urban housing.

Lacking infrastructure from the potholes in roads to the godawful traffic and insistent on urban renewals, Houston was an evolving city home to the largest medical center the world had to offer. A city that was still growing and had no sense of boundaries. Lack of zoning laws and corporate sharks with too much money in their pocket buying off land and building their facilities regardless of the neighborhood or area around them tended to encourage its gritty state.

Cars and AC were a must in this city, hardly friendly for cyclists, though it didn't stop hobbyists from scheduling weekend long bike riding around the city.

Under the stifling heat and crawling traffic, a small figure zipped through the highways, going more than fifty miles per hour and easily passing by the fast pace of Houston highway. Horns blared after him as he cut through the lanes and zipped through the traffic.

He replied with flipping a bird before pedaling off, emergency packages rustling in the black duffle bag pinned over his back. Turns out in a city where the nearest commutes were an hour long and more drive, bike couriers tended to be godsends for emergency demands and inconvenienced residents.

Within a day, he would've visited most part of Houston than an average citizen of fifteen years wouldn't even step foot on.

Amongst his co-workers, he was known as a non-stopping working machine. Always the fastest, always on delivery, and always covering the most areas, and always a go-to for the extra over-the-topped special demands. He would even pick up the slacks in holidays and weekends, making himself a favorite amongst his colleagues.

Chase Kendrick squeezed the brake and it squealed when he rose from his seat, one foot still on the pedal as the bike moved towards the pavement at the side before setting his foot down. It wasn't a wholly glorious job as payment depended on how much delivery he made per day but being above average balanced it out.

Once he had tried to cheat. The bike on his back as he sped across Houston on foot. But Houston wasn't like Manhattan. The skyscrapers and the buildings weren't condensed in a single area, so he couldn't just jump from roof to roof, building to building. Here, he had to land in an alley in between, back onto the ground level before ascending. His actions only resulted in suspicious blurry photos that were mistaken as a flying saucer or some other and people speculated Houston's pigeons going nuts due to numerous cracks in the glass of high-rise buildings. He became another top urban mystery.

Dana had looked at him wryly with an amused smile when she showed the internet blog featuring him.

Pariah had ranted on the phone, lecturing the use of bikes and staying on the ground, then muttered something about it was too challenging for him.

Alex had only narrowed his eyes at that comment.

Riding the bike was… strange. His weight was too heavy at the time, too much for the poor bike and the strength he put on the pedal and grip resulted to broken chains and bent metal. But he could do it. He will do it. He had the memories of how many New Yorkers who relived their childhood, memories of daredevils and pro skaters.

There was a moment he even remembered the memories of Doctor Mercer, memories being a delivery boy, working overtime, trying to make due. He wasn't sure he welcomed the moments of Doctor Mercer before he became the despicable man the world known him by. But like all memories of the first, they were missing the emotions, the information. Just a static scene, a tiny glimpse.

Alex Mercer did the only thing he could do when faced with a number of broken bikes. He adapted and lose some weight. It wouldn't really kill him, he hasn't had to consume as much as he did in New York. It wasn't like he was fighting for his life and always have a place to go. No, he didn't need to do that here.

Here he just had to deliver as quickly as possible. An errand boy. Without the mass he was so used to, he was again reminded of his first moment of his life where his body had only the weight of a sociopathic scientist. It was barely enough back then, barely enough to survive with the bullets in his chest, the explosions and the running he had to put up.

Not a pleasant feeling. It felt he was exposing himself as he sped quickly across the city on a bike, half-expecting the flurry of Apache's fury behind him. But it was a challenge. Alex liked challenges. It was something he often did in Manhattan, the days he was naive, the days he wanted to know what he was capable of. Not all challenges were innocent as how fast he could get to the other end of the island.

Then finally, he got the delivery job.

"Congratulations," Pariah had said one night.

Mercer snorted at that reaction. Somehow it felt like the older man was mocking him.

"I don't need your praise."

The man just smiled before he whistled for his dog and jogged off into the night.

On that same week, he came back to Dana's apartment only for a custom-made bike waited for him on the front reinforced-steel that guarded the door.

"It looks expensive," his sister had said. "And… a lot heavier. I don't know what kind of metal it's made of, but it sure looks tough."

He had half the mind to chuck the bike into some trash.

"Wanna try it?" Dana looked up with a contemplative expression.

He looked at her with confusion. "Why?"

"I want to see you trying it."

And let his sister witness his embarrassing mistakes that resulted in the ruins of how many bikes?

But he relented. He noted the bicycle had another seat at the back but didn't pay any mind. Alex had brought them out in the street and did some boring circle with it.

"Oh c'mon, let's do something more fun with it," Dana said when he slowed to a stop with an exasperated look, wanting to be done with this spontaneous activity.

"Like what?"

She answered by climbing onto the seat behind him and grabbing a hold of him alarmingly.

"Go," she urged him when he froze at that action.

He did but slowly.

"Alex, I know you can go faster, so go faster," she said. "Just take me anywhere you want."

"Around the block?"

"No, just anywhere."

So they did, out of the apartment's street, out of the block, to the highway, steadily gaining speed under the atrocious heat of Houston weather until Dana was screaming behind his back at the amount of traffic laws he was breaking and closed calls. Her screaming only changed when they finally went outside the bounds of Houston city, to the deserted highways and roads.

Instead, it was laughter when they zipped on the empty road as the wind snatched their hair and clothes. They came back later in the night with Dana needing shower from all the grimes and sweat.

"I can taste Houston's dust in my mouth," Dana had complained when she brushed her teeth. "Also, you need a shower as well."

He left quickly that night.

After what he put the bike through, it was only then he realized most bikes won't be able to handle the everyday wear and tear he forced onto them even when he was careful. Tires always had to be replaced, the treads disappearing fast from the hot roads and the brakes he had to slam quickly because of traffic. The metal and chains would eventually snap under the adrenaline and strength.

He took the bike. The wheels still needed to be replaced occasionally. But the chains were definitely stronger and when he accidentally bent the metal, he could bend it back to place without snapping it.

Pariah had said nothing when he found him on that same night, sitting on some park's bench with the bike resting behind the seat. He took his silence and lack of glare without question. It wasn't an expression of gratitude, but it was better than the distrusting stare he would give.

"How is she?"

"Better," Alex said quietly, knowing he was inquiring about his sister's stress level.

"The dog?"

"She's taken to it well enough," he answered.

"I'm going to need him back one day, you know."

"Take it up to her." He would not admit that Pariah's puppy brought a nice distraction that his sister needed.

Snowflake, she had called it. The one male in the group of its mother's clones. If anything about Pariah's fear about what his dog had gone through, the male one was the most susceptible at consuming its siblings and his mother from inside the womb… like some parasite.

What the hell was the virus doing to risk its host like that?

He wasn't sure he liked the thought of it being close to his sister, but it made her happy.

Dana had settled herself into a routine after the whole blank out debacle, she needed to as she once told him. She was not one to fall apart and let herself slide into doing nothing if anything about how she handled herself during Outbreak. He had met enough, consumed enough of those who had fallen to despair, trapped in a place day in and day out.

Doing nothing won't help as she had often said. Along the way, she got a job at a university as their web writer and editor, with a side of being a consultant to design students. Amongst people once again that she could distract herself with and move on.

Runner Dana wasn't malicious as he had come to learn through the years in the four times it has made its appearance. She would stay put and just stare emptily, waiting. Other times she would just drop everything Dana was doing and wander off, even broke into Gordon's house.

Pariah had once found her sitting with his dogs in his garage, quietly brushing the head of the mother of the pack in her empty staring. They didn't know what the cause of stress was and Dana wouldn't say anything about it after until they realized… November. November, the anniversary of the Outbreak and her brother's death (and his birthday). November, the month where everything went wrong. November where she has to remember what her brother did and what the world had to say.

It would explain why she didn't touch the internet or her laptop.

Another blank out moment had made Dana wander around to nowhere only to realize she was following him in his delivery all over Houston. She only settled when he was within her vicinity then just… collapsed. He found her in a park, curled on a bench and surrounded by the pigeons Pariah watched his city with. She was holding a shivering dove in her hand.

That day he had to carry her back home on his back. She slept for days after that. He blamed himself because he knew he was the cause, he knew what she was like when dealing with arguments. They haven't spoken, haven't met each other after the argument when she left him behind to be with David. Always she would put her mind in some circle, muttering to herself what she could've said better, what she wanted to say until she would keep herself awake at night, getting herself sick and upset.

The last was with David. He had received a strange call from her boyfriend. That she had spontaneously visited the hospital. Amongst the sick in the hallway David found her, smiling at a sick boy and holding his hand. Alex had quickly taken her out of that place knowing it was a building prime to call a Runner's instinct. Then she was back to being complacent, standing on the rail of David's apartment.

As for the sick boy, he was suffering from symptoms similar to a stomach bug, except all parasites the specialists have tested for only came back negative. The boy was losing fluid fast and constantly under high fever to the point he was put in critical condition ward and was getting X-rayed for future surgery.

He got better, Pariah had reported. Though whether it was because of Dana that remained unsure even now.

Alex looked up at the dying light of Houston's sky, evening was approaching, and people were celebrating Thanksgiving. Dana would be with Dave's family right about now, they were probably going to reveal their engagement to the family.

"James Heller, former US Marine Sergeant has been missing for a fortnight now." His phone's radio continued as he took out one earbud from his ear. "Father to Maya Heller, one of the two twelve-year-old girls who died in the tragic incident of suicide at the Institution dedicated to the study of the Mercer Virus."

"Hey Chase," greeted his colleague. "Calling in early?" She grinned at him.

"Authorities has confirmed that the former marine was grievously injured when he entered the emergency room and had recently received surgery before he went missing."

He looked down and stared at the cyclist in a tank top and biking gear. "Yeah," he said stiffly before throwing his duffle bag at her.

He heard the oof when she caught it.

"Got plans tonight?" she asked curiously after she slid the bag strap over her head. "You usually work on Thanksgiving."

"Is it possible for the man that injured be a runaway?" The radio host asked.

"We don't know, but due to the recent event, relatives to James Heller are still inquiring about his whereabouts and his mental health…"

"Not this year," Alex told her.

"Ah, it's a girl," she said playfully.

There were times human beings grated him too much even how friendly they were.

"Sister," he corrected her before pulling out his phone and disconnecting the headphone line. "Let's get this over with," he muttered.

"Whatever you say, champ," she chirped brightly before bringing up her phone for the transfer.

A transfer of order, a verification on the deliveries he had done, a moment of waiting for cellular data to finish uploading the information, Alex closed the app and slid the phone back to its pocket strap at his chest.

"Tah," his colleague waved as she pedaled away.

Alex did nothing but turned back to his bike, pondering on the invitation he received last week. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to pay a visit. Just to make sure she was okay.

---

"Do you hear them?"

"Sometimes I hear whispers. Voices in the wall. I thought they were the neighbors or the plumbing. But…"

"But?"

"It's only when Alex is around. They weren't nice thoughts... They were Alex's, aren't they?"

Steams rolled all around her as she stood before the mirror, dripping wet from the recent shower. Cold white bathroom tile squeaked when she moved her feet but settled back. She scrubbed her face, massaged it, feeling the grains against her skin. Once done, she cupped her hands under running water and splashed her face with it.

"Cara!" a muffled voice called from outside. "How long you're going to be in there?"

She shook her head, wiping her face, then turned her head towards the door.

"Give me… half an hour more!" she called back, grimacing a bit.

"Half an hour!?"

"Yeah…"

There was silence, a moment of pondering. "Alright then…" Dave's voice trailed off, resigned.

She sighed then looked back at the mirror, then at the box of the platinum blond hair dye product on the sink's counter. She stood there, hesitating to reach out then looked back at the mist-covered mirror. Swiping across the surface, green eyes gazed back at her.

A hitch of breath, she quickly closed her eyes and held back the shudder. Darkness swarm beneath her eyelid as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Slowly, she opened back up to her own blue piercing eyes. She then turned her gaze upward towards her hair.

Red. Warning. Danger. Striking red locks glimpsed through the worn blond dye as with her natural dark brown color. A proof, a motivation, no hesitation, she reached out towards the hair product and began her monthly habit renewing this identity.

The hair platinum blonde ran long, enough to reach below her shoulders and were then curled. Once done, she reached the round casing of the eye contacts next to the used hair product box. She checked then dip her finger into the thin transparent piece of glass and she arched her head back, eyes wide to receive the fake green iris.

Dana stared back at the woman in the mirror. A pale white body bare and without scars. Body like the infected where they would lose hair, bare like children, bloated tumorous children. A body that wouldn't react to painkillers and reject any drug effects, a body that would not respond to hormonal pills nor would grow sick or even age. Papercuts would seal within a second with bruises fading before her eyes.

Undying. Despite what Patrick had done, this was a Runner's body. Partially at least.

With her hand, the tip of her fingers, she had infected. The virus right beneath her nails like some venom in a snake's teeth. Granted, the only creature she had truly infected was a squirrel, hardly a grand idealization of Greene's will there.

But there was that sick boy that Dave told her she was comforting.

"Nothing happened," Alex said sternly. "And if it did, well… he got better instead."

He got better… Panacea, a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases.

"Your virus is the closest thing to a cure for… most things. Diseases, aging, it can prevent sickness, it can fight it off, slow the biological clock of a person without the cancers and the drawbacks like its mother. It could make a person resilient and stronger without… changing them drastically. Ironically, the virus Blackwatch had hoped Redlight would be in the beginning."

"Could it do anything for the ones in Manhattan?"

"Yes. For those not too far gone, as long there's something, someone worth bringing back. But if they're gone, they stay gone, even if we give them back a healthy brain."

"But at least they would be alive. They could pick themselves back up. I don't know, find themselves again?"

Memories were a poor copy of one's life and experience. They were other mediums that could remake them back through friends, families, photos of loved ones. Even if they didn't remember, they could re-experience it and make new ones.

"Like your brother?"

"That's different, and you know it!"

What a useless cure. She could do nothing with it and it was sitting inside her. What then if she found a way to help?

Wouldn't that spread the virus? She would be doing what a Runner do if she did give away her virus, infecting but only in the name of curing. What was the difference between how Greene did it, and hers? One involved the death of many, the other saving the lives of many.

"I don't think my mother would care how you do it. As long it spreads in some way, as long it exists in some form. She would be satisfied. So, think carefully, Bee."

"You can do it too, can you? You… do all those things, could've saved a lot of people."

"It would mean taking up the mantle my mother wanted me, what I'm meant for, Dana."

What they were meant for, what it was meant for. Was it really cure? Or was it just a vicious little disease hiding behind a cure, waiting to become more at her own will as Redlight did when it finally got Greene.

She didn't truly understand who that thing… entity...being that was part of her brain, the Runner part. Nor did she want to understand its actions. But then, no one truly knew themselves as people always discover a new part of themselves. The human brain when cut in half and severe the connection that made them talk to each other, it would still work independently as two instead of one and would even openly disagree with its other half.

She wasn't sure it was right to compare the case similar to hers, as so far her brain scan showed her brain was whole and clearly talking to each other… talking to that infected part of her and it talking back to her brain. So why was it she wouldn't be awake and aware when it comes out, or even remember or rationalize at least its actions. The human brain would literally make shit up to make sense of when it did things.

Except they were moments when all the emotional tumults were gone and all that was left was… nothing. Nothing but soft contentment, a silent bliss. Nothing but dreams. She would remember. Sometimes, she would understand.

"Do you remember your dreams?"

"No. It kinda frustrates me."

"It's expected. Dreams are redundant information, side-effects of an important process, they are after all built upon memories."

"What does it want?"

"What do you want, Dana?"

"Don't turn this around, Gordon."

"Well, that thing is you, part of you. What you want is what it wants, what it wants is what your brain wants. So I ask this again, what do you want, Dana?"

Hence stress, stress was the trigger of its manifestation. Because in those moments of stress, the things she wanted in her life was so far, so impossible. In a way, that part of her was trying to relieve her stress and fulfill her wishes in a roundabout manner, in the only way a Runner would only know.

But like all dreams, her brain would soon forget as with her understanding of its actions. The only explanation she had was that her brain just didn't want to keep that realization around.

It was kind of silly. She had feared this part of her would consume her, change her. Nothing was static when it came to a person's sense of self. The definition would even change… individuality would change, even the one thing people took comfort, the DNA, the neurological pattern of the brain, virus or no virus, they too change.

She wasn't dying, she wasn't… confused anymore, she could've removed that part of her Greene had left behind. But she didn't. She remembered her times at the hospital, wishing for something that wasn't there, something she shouldn't be yearning. She was tired feeling that way. If she removed that part of her, would she experience this all over again? If she removed it, would her own virus bring it back? Did she really want to remove it? Would removing it and the virus would make any difference in her life right now?

A bit late thinking about that option, don't you think?

It wasn't killing her, it wasn't doing something to her, it wasn't really a problem, but it was dangerous, something that would always be in the back of her mind. She was scared of it. This was a part of her and she had learned to live with it.

Nothing happened. It's alright.

The blonde woman closed her lipstick and patted the crinkle of her denim jacket she wore over her dress then smiled at the mirror. But the option was still there, she just needed… courage, a reason than just for her sake. David.

It was November, she knew damn well what that meant. The anniversary of the Outbreak. The traditional month of football conquest. The day one has to fill their card with social obligatory deeds. This year, it was also the time where presidential candidates notify the public of the presidential election next year and begin their year-long propaganda.

"The day half of my family becomes political cunts," David grumbled. "Just hope to God next year election would be better than the last one."

She was not looking forward to this family dinner, to say the least.

---

"Dave, are you sure about this?" she asked as they sat in the car in front of his family house.

"No," Dave said bluntly and snorted. "I love my family, but I don't like my relatives."

"Okay, why do we have to reveal our engagement like… tonight," Dana said sourly.

"Because my dad likes to show me off in front of other guys."

"Oh God."

"You fucking betcha," Dave continued in his very sarcastic manner. "I love my dad, I really do. But sometimes..."

"What if one of your relatives announce their engagement before your parent does," Dana pointed out.

"Mom makes sure they wouldn't."

"Oh God."

Dave laughed or cried, or both since this was a nervous reaction from him.

"Is the wedding going to be this obnoxious?"

"Thirty people at most."

"Okay, how am I going to compete with that!" Dana cried.

Dave raised his hands. "I promise you, if there's gonna be a wedding, it's gonna be small. Mom and Dad like it that way as well. Just close-knit, between close friends and family. It's the reception that's going to be different."

Dana just stared at her fiancé. Dave stared back as well, making that nervous sound of laughter with his throat and a grimacing smile on his face.

"Look," he said and sighed. "It's not gonna be that bad. They're good people. They won't judge you. Though… this year they might be a bunch of assholes but come around New Years, they would be different!" He grinned or tried to. "If there's going to be New Years, since hospital and stuff."

Dana only exhaled and leaned forward. "You weren't serious when you said you invited Alex, right?"

"Actually, I was."

"I'm surprised you want him involved, considering… y'know," Dana said uncomfortably.

"Cara, it would be kind of weird if people learn that no one knows you, as in someone to say something about you at least. I mean I could have invited your colleagues," he said sheepishly. "It would be bizarre for my family since you came out of nowhere and know practically nothing about you."

"I thought you said they won't judge," she said drily.

"Well, it's too late considering I talked about you to mom and dad already. I mean…" He made nervous motions with his hands. "Before the talk, I had to ask someone if… well, we were ready or should we get engaged or something and knowing my parent, they're expecting to be asked first."

He then looked at her deeply. "Do you think we're meant for this?" he asked bluntly. "Marriage. In this day of age, people can still be together regardless."

"I think it's a sweet thought. I guess for me, it's less about want and more do we need to." She looked at him. "We've talked about this. We both want to be together for better or worse."

"Define worse."

She looked at him wryly. "I as Cara Kendrick would like to be part of your life... and family if I have to. Boom, wedding vow done," she said, less serious.

"Not Dana Anna Mercer?"

Dana stared at him seriously. "Dave," she warned.

"We can both lie to ourselves about who we are," he told her. "But I'm not going to deny who I'm going to ultimately marry. Why did we have the talk if not for that reason? Why tell me what it-it can do?" What the virus could do to you. "If I'm to marry Cara Kendrick, then I wouldn't need to know all those stuff, with me none the wiser when - if you disappeared on me," he muttered darkly. "A version of me living in blissful ignorance not knowing who and what happened to the woman I loved."

She was quiet at that, and she didn't appreciate that this topic had come back up again, especially now, right before Thanksgiving dinner, right before his parent's house.

"I'm sorry," Dave said quietly.

"No, you're right," she said with a grimace.

"I don't want to force you into things I know we're not meant for."

She turned and smiled. "If anything I've learned from my brother is that who gives a shit about what we're meant for or why. My brother… and I, we would have separated a long time ago, thinking we would be better off without each other. The most despised man didn't deserve to be with his sister and spending time with her, let alone be happy with her." She leaned back in her seat as she looked at the top of the car.

"God, Dave if you knew what Alex had to go through with me, he's a definition of not meant for. Being a brother, being human, being… a good person. But he tries, regardless what he is, regardless what he believes."

Dana sighed. "I think… I know for sure I'm happy with you. That my future would be happier with you in it despite what it could bring."

Dave smiled at her crookedly this time, his face illuminated faintly by the house's light.

"Like I said, I know you wouldn't be here if there was no chance of us happening," he told her. "Despite… our government being a giant cu-" he stopped himself. "Farce and zombie-making virus being possible in our world and it being inside you."

"You have a way to look at this optimistically," she muttered.

"The world goes around. Society continues to function. We as a human being are still alive and breathing. We have to keep one foot moving forward at least. Look at the odds, we're alive and happy."

She smiled then leaned over to him and kissed his lips. "Thanks," she said. "But the whole marriage process... argh," she grumbled.

"Argh," Dave agreed. "Besides, you've met my parents before."

"Yeah, but not your whole fucking family."

"Look at it this way, at least they are not a viral monstrosity." He smiled back, then turned toward his house. "Now, let's get this over with."

They both got out of the car and marched towards the house together. She could hear the music, the loud talking, and gossiping, the uproars from sports show already. David's family house was a quaint two-story high home, painted traditionally white with its green lawn meticulously taken care of recently. There were tell-tales of recent maintenance, especially at the missing paint cracks of greeneries being pulled out from clinging onto the house.

"I can hold that," David said at the food in her arms. "Take the car keys instead."

She gave him a suspicious glare. "You're going to get drunk, are you?" she said when she gave the food and took the keys.

"No, yes, maybe. But considering you sober fast, I'm willing to put my life in your hands," he said quickly. "Also make sure none of the gremlins get near the pockets."

"Gremlins?"

"Kids."

"Why do I have to keep watch on them?"

"I think one of my Dad's sister pays the kids to snatch car keys. Just so no one leaves early."

"Oh God."

---

Despite her worst expectations, everything went swimmingly. The party was uproariously loud, the meals were great. Nothing disastrous happened. Talks of politic came inbound with the tension going up with the intake of beers. That was when the buffet for all came out to shut people up.

Dave grew very candid when he was high on adrenaline and nervous energy, did not help he was slightly buzzed.

"I've found out one of my aunt's' son going to propose. Worst come to worst," he whispered quickly into her ear as they stood by the corner near the entrance. "I stall my father until my cousin goes through then we both quickly leave when they start congratulating those poor fuckers."

She had tried to keep her laughter to herself. "You're really going out of your way for this, aren't you?"

"The wait is palpable!" Dave had hissed before he took a gulp from his beer. "Fucking hate it when they play with expectations. No Davey, after I reheat the barbeque we made today. Davey, we're going to announce after the pumpkin and pecan pies are cooked. Davey, not now, as you can see I'm trying to make sure our guests behave," he muttered annoyingly.

David was right, the wait was palpable. She wasn't sure when they were going to announce it. By then, she had already introduced herself to almost everyone with the ring on her finger brought to question. They joked, they laughed and introduced themselves happily to her, then wished them well.

He was happy amongst his family even when stressed. David belonged with them. She wasn't sure if she could bear the thought of taking this all away. Dana snorted.

"Okay, thinking about Murphy's law is bad for you," Dana snapped to herself sourly as she sat on the swing set in the garden outside, the chain cold in her hands.

He once found the fake passports and numerous certificates of different names during cleaning. One of them had his image on it. David only said nothing at such future implication and just put them back in the box he had found. There was preparation, and then there was presumption like that.

This life… was so far away than the ones she knew. The one where her only relative was that of her brother. The holidays she celebrated were amongst the family of her high school and college friends, where the distance between family members and her own obvious. But now she was going to be a part of those family inside that house.

She wasn't sure what to feel about that.

A warm hand rested on her shoulder and she spun around before exhaling.

"Alex." She smiled brightly at the man who stood looming behind her, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark, brown curly hair of her brother barely seen under the baseball cap. "God, is it so hard to say something before you do that!"

Her brother only smirked before walking around the swing and took his seat in the other set.

"How are you?" he asked as he sat there, arms resting on his legs and leaning forward.

"Nervous," she confessed quietly. "It's just… overwhelming." Dana gripped the chains tighter.

"Scared?"

"No," she said adamantly. "Just thinking. I've always wondered what it would have been like if we didn't… stayed. If we haven't met Pat."

"I don't see any point in thinking like that." Alex shook his head.

"I know," she said and looked down on the dry grass at her shoes. "Would we have been happy, Alex? Would we have regretted our choice more?"

He turned his head towards her and asked concernedly, "Aren't you happy, Dana?"

"I am. It's just me being stupid." She gave a quick smile back at him.

"For better or for worse, I think I would be satisfied with whatever choice you make," Alex told her gently. "Besides, people can find happiness no matter what path they take," he added before he slowly looked away, eyes distant in recalling the memories in his head. "It isn't an easy thing to get and sometimes not guaranteed, but it's better than doing nothing."

"Optimism. It's so fucking weird hearing that from you," Dana said, grinning and shook her head.

He made a small hmpf but that soft smile was still on the side of his face.

"Have you heard from Patrick?" she asked.

"No, but if he had left for a trip, he would have told us," Alex answered her stiffly.

Dana hummed at that. "It's so different, y'know. Being in there. Being part of that." She looked at the house. "I… I'm going to have a… mom to talk to. An old man as well. Aunts, uncles, cousins, relatives." She exhaled.

Alex silently stared as they both sat on the swing set.

"It's overwhelming," she whispered. "I grew up without a mom. Without family, Alex. Just me and him."

"But you weren't alone?"

"No-no, I've met good people and they stuck around, I'm always grateful for them even though… they're not here for me," Dana said sadly.

"You miss them?"

"There's no point feeling that way," she repeated his words. "But sometimes, I'm stupid. Wishing for the past, wishing for something not there. Maybe, I'm greedy and being selfish."

"There's nothing wrong caring about these things, Dana."

"And if I didn't care?" She looked up. "Would I be like my brother?"

"Dana," Alex said gravely.

"Cara? What are you doing out here?" A woman called out at the back door. "Who is that man you're sitting beside?"

"Vanessa!" She stood up. "Uh, just need a breather," she told the older woman.

"Family too much for you?" The woman joked when she went over to her. "Davey told me you were feeling nervous."

Dana gave a shaky laugh at that.

"It's alright to admit it. Even I agree with you. It ain't easy to cook for all these lots, and I prefer doing a small dinner instead of this," Mrs. Manny said with a grimacing air. "Why don't you come back inside? I got some nicer stash we can sneak a drink from," she added with a mischievous smile.

"Thank you." Dana grinned then looked back at her brother who stood beside her.

A large pop, she heard a sharp whistle in the sky, some neighborhood firework cackled.

"Speaking of handsome stranger, who is that man beside you?" The woman joked.

"I'm her brother." Alex nodded gravely in greeting, his blonde hair longer, going over the tip of his ears and his face back to Chase Kendrick.

"Ah… you would be Chase? Davey was on point with his description," the woman said mildly before she stepped back, letting the kitchen door opened for them. "Want to join the fun?" she offered.

"You don't have to do that, Mrs. Manny," Dana began, knowing Alex's dislikes.

A warm hand was placed on her shoulder. She turned to look at him in surprise as he gave a weak smile at her.

"If there's no problem," he told the older woman before he looked up.

"Only problem you're gonna have is having a late start with all the party-drinkers," she said cheerfully before walking back into the house.

Her brother moved first without hesitation, brushing past by her in surprise.

"Ah-Chase?" Dana called out to him weakly.

He stopped and turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. "Coming?"

She stared at him, slowly wondering what was going on in his mind. "This better not be some prank." She pointed at him then followed after.

He only said nothing and stepped into the kitchen busy with older ladies laughing loudly at each other as they cleaned the dirty dishes. Dana tentatively stood beside him, feeling the stark contrast of his stoicism and the bubbles of emotions the house was filled with.

"Take this," Mrs. Manny said, shoving a big plate of leftover from barbeque and dessert.

Dana opened her mouth but he only took it without protest.

"It's not fair," she muttered beside him, noting he had the best dessert on his plate. "I wanted more of that."

He offered his plate silently.

"You eat it." She patted his arm. "I'm gonna check on Dave."

Alex said nothing when he followed after her into the living room. The hubbub and the lingers of adults still going full-swing, either standing or sitting near corners, friends and families catching up on another or meeting each other for the first time, a glass of wine or a drink in their hands. There were some teenagers conked out on the couch by the side or playing with their smartphone.

Yellings and shouts from the television set could still be heard. Upstair the younger members were playing around in the bedroom with the sound of video games and their footsteps reverberating the ceiling. It was loud, it was crowded, it was a party less than a dinner. It was everything that Alex would be uncomfortable in.

At least he should be. He had separated away from her shortly and going out of her sight, unusual for Alex as he always liked to keep watch on her. She only found him with a group of poker players in the basement, dinner plate cleaned with a bottle of strong alcohol half-finished.

Alex's face unflinching and unreadable as he sat at the table, cards in his hand.

"This man has drink more than our fill," David's dad pointed out when she had approached them. "And still he hasn't loosened one bit!"

She noted her brother had a nice earning of chips by his arms, a soft smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

"Don't win too much, else they're going to ask for you next year," Dave joked.

"Fold," Alex said quietly.

"Face like that doesn't mean it's an auto-win." An elderly man with bald head cackled as he took the chips in the center. "But making other people into thinking you will win despite everything, that's a skill."

"It's still luck, dad," Aunt Caroline snorted as she took the bottle from Alex's side, pouring herself a drink. "I've yet to meet anyone with that set of skills."

"They're called conmen and fraudsters, Caroline," Mr. Manny interjected. "Their job is to swindle and manipulate people."

"Swindlers these days are all online now. I know a friend's parent who had lost their pension money," Caroline said as she shuffled the cards professionally then deal with them.

"Christ, elderlies now? Don't they know that's all the money they've got."

"Like they care. They specifically target those cute elderlies that haven't touched a computer in their whole entire life and did their homework on them. It's scary when you think about it. People pulling out information all about you, information you didn't know was kept around."

"Bet they make poor poker player," the old man snorted.

Alex placed his cards flat on the table. Another fold.

"At this rate, I ain't going to get that money back." David's dad sighed. "Anthony proposed yet?"

"He chickened out." David snickered, his third beer bottle still in his hand.

"Thinks he's scared his gal would say no?" Caroline snorted. "At this point, I can't think a reason why they won't hitch?"

"Commitment?" Their old man pointed out. "I say he doesn't know what he's getting into."

"Let's not be too hard on Tony. If they're not ready, they're not ready then."

Dave was quiet at that before he said, "Thanks, Dad."

"I wasn't talking about you," Mr. Manny said flatly. "I've heard enough horror stories of families making a big fuss about marriage only to have it not worked out," he said and shook his head. "We're happy for you, son, and we want to celebrate and wish you two all the best and what better than Thanksgiving?" He grinned at them. "But since… well, you've shown your discomfort. We took hint."

"No, Mr. Manny, it's fine…" Dana protested.

"I didn't say we won't celebrate," he snorted and waved her away. "How about a quiet dinner at some place than with… these hooligans, better?"

He had a stern look on his face but had a constant laughing line. David shared his brown keen eyes. It was not hard to believe this man was a homely high school teacher. A kind of understanding mentor that made her wish she had met the same kind of person earlier in her life.

"Thank you, Mr. Manny," she said quietly.

"Aw, poppy," Caroline teased her brother. "I'm going to tell this to Anna and others!"

Mr. Manny muttered, "And then the endless inquiry of invitation comes pouring out."

"They're already asking anyway!"

Dana looked down only to see Alex watching her.

"You like them?" She mouthed.

He looked away before he shrugged. With Alex, that was the closest thing to an approval and it was nice to see him trying when she knew he didn't need to. She'd rather not force him into things he didn't like considering the disaster that occurs whenever he tries, however humorous they were. But she was glad. She was glad he was there all the more.

---

Out of the house, into the cackling nights of Houston lit by fireworks, Alex snatched his bike at the side of the house before he pedaled away slowly. He took out his phone, looking through the call logs and messages.

Pariah hasn't been contacting him. It was not like the man didn't have his own life.

This wouldn't have been a problem since he would at least make some excuse or warn him beforehand. He hasn't been snooping or asking around as much. In fact, this whole month… he has been distracted, to say the least.

The eyes he always felt in this city seemed to focus on something else, searching for something else. He wasn't sure he liked that change.

"Maya Heller, huh?" Alex said when he stared at the news post on his phone's screen, the current topic of the month. "And Lilian Truss."

So that was their name. The news has been going on about these two girls since late October. They've finally learned the name of the patients.

Two twelve-year-old girls killed themselves - no, infected twelve-year-old. They were asymptomatic carriers. It was why they were at the facilities dedicated to the study of Redlight infection. They would've been five-six years old during the Outbreak. Was that when they were infected? For some reason, children were more prone to be asymptomatic than adults and he wasn't sure it was because they lacked the biological mass when it came to food and resource for the infected variants.

These infected carriers were the reasons Redlight still persisted in the streets of Manhattan even today, why there were facilities dedicated to them, an area under constant quarantine in case it was targeted by angry mobs.

Without a Runner, the virus just went back to this quiet disease. A virus that practically did nothing, didn't make people better or stronger as it did with the monkeys, nor weaken them on the surface. Except for the pregnant women.

The virus triggered in them even without Greene, the only clue Redlight wanted to become more.

Now that he thought about it, the reason Hope had its two years dormancy was because Greene cut the time short. Without Greene, without a Runner to trigger the virus, what would have happened?

Would the result be carriers developing cancers and tumors over the years? Their brains slowly degrade compared to Walkers when their minds and bodies degenerated within days...hours. How long would it take if it weren't for Greene, two years, three years, six?

Was making asymptomatic carriers the default behavior of the virus when it has no Runner?

A hundred case of asymptomatic carriers housed in that Manhattan's Institution. If there was a symptom, it would be like the cold flu since the virus would be destroying immune system slowly then back to latency like a cycle. It was… extremely infectious in its simple phase.

Two Bluff Runner. Blackwatch had a reason to exist before Hope, before Greene. They had a reason to be funded throughout the decades in the name of defense unless there was a conspiracy that they were making these Runners to keep themselves around. Hope pre-outbreak wasn't on lockdown. There were travelers, visitors who lingered amongst the infected civilians. Redlight must have escaped through them and they were too far from Greene when she triggered the virus.

Out of the small percentage the virus infected, it passed down to their children or to another person and so on until it hit jackpot. A woman that would become another Runner.

Was this how Runners came to be even when Greene was on lockdown and had no means for her virus to escape?

Eighty-one percent of Manhattan was infected within twelve days. Sixty percent once Greene was taken out and the military finally gained a foothold, a fighting chance with him cleaning up the numbers. But out of the nineteen percent, the non-infected, out of three hundred ten thousand, how many amongst them were carriers?

That was not counting human and statistic errors. In the eyes of Blackwatch, anyone inside the Red Line was infected, something that would be rectified in the official records. Amongst the infected, how many survived, how many given clearances from this rectification? The asymptomatic mistaken as non-infected.

Manhattan was not like Hope in terms of the number of visitors and civilians that touched its soil, nor in its death of one million three hundred twenty-one thousand casualties. Doctor Mercer was the most hated person in the world for that reason.

Operation Firebreak… it was no wonder Blackwatch wanted to be thorough. For amongst those numbers, how many would bring future outbreaks?

Except there hasn't been any outbreaks, any new Runners… yet. Or has it?

Alex couldn't deny living this quiet life, cut off from Blackwatch's activity with only the unreliable hivemind that was filled with the old memories of those he consumed, he was in the dark.

The six years of restlessness stirred in him. Hunt, seek, find the truth.

Could he afford to throw this all away? Leave all of it? Leave Dana behind?

Alex stopped and stared, his eyes gazing off to the distant. Out of old habit, he listened. The loud bang of fireworks, the distant shoutings, the barking of dogs and television booming in homes, the crunching of tires over gravels, whirring of engines and humming of electricity. They all washed away into silence.

Death and the cries of Manhattan didn't greet him, just the whispers of his mind and the sliver of Pariah's link pulsing beneath the murmurings. He could feel Dana's just as quiet as Pariah's. A few years back, he wouldn't have recognized those links, wouldn't be aware of them either until he realized what they were. The familiar tugs pointing towards Manhattan were still there. Not as strong like the days of the Outbreak. Perhaps it was the distance, perhaps because of the infected being mostly carriers now.

A voice murmured. Small, fleeting, young. There was another, rumbling, growling and muttering darkly. Alex stilled at that before he turned sharply, eastward.

Something was coming and Pariah was on the move.

---

Listening, seeing through the hive, pushing things around, even when on the other side of the States, it was easy. It was so darn easy for him albeit only in his sleep where distance felt irrelevant in the logic of dreams. Perhaps because he was his mother's son, a direct connection to Redlight, a direct connection to Greene's links. When she was gone, it became hard to keep track of things in the hive and it really didn't bother him as much. The same old apathy and emptiness that made him an uncaring son.

He had separated himself off a long time ago, cut off from the hive, building the silence in his mind.

But Hope never died inside him despite his efforts as it never did in his mother. They would always remember. He would always remember. The screams, the cries, the sound of their death and despair.

The sound of the world crying. The visions of the Reason would crack into his world, red dreams disconnecting to the truth of reality. It was a simple psychosis, however pleasant and gentle.

A blissful nightmare.

"It's not real, Pariah. They're just dreams."

He made himself deaf during the Outbreak. The sounds of Manhattan grating even when his mother was gone. His decision had led his younger brother to whack him in the head with his own photocopier. Whether it was because of mother, or because Zeus own natural lack of connection, it didn't change the fact it was his own laziness, obstinate habit of making himself deaf and separated from the hive that led him to make that mistake.

It was best not to repeat mistakes even if it would mean the familiar feeling of inhuman emptiness creeping back into his life.

"You heard it?" Alex asked, pacing around slowly behind him.

"If you can hear them, that means they're close to the city," he answered.

"You know." There was the familiar accusation.

"Since early October. I wasn't really sure," he confessed, looking down from the rooftop they stood on.

"Why are they here, why did they come here?"

"I don't know," Pariah answered honestly.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Wait and see."

He felt his brother's eyes watching him carefully. "And if one of them turned out to be a Runner?"

"Then I'm wondering why she hasn't been a leaving trail of infection like she should be," he wondered aloud. "What about you?" he asked back.

Alex said nothing as he moved back and forth restlessly. "If there's a Runner then Blackwatch isn't far behind."

He waited. "Are you going to leave? Wait it out?"

"No." Alex stopped and shook his head. "Dana… and Dave. They need to get away from here if all hell breaks loose."

"Convincing them to take an early vacation is going to be hard on them without raising worry," he commented grimly. "But let's not get too far ahead. I haven't sense any trail of infection."

"She could be hiding from Blackwatch, playing smart."

"Then we have time then," Patrick said and finally turned around, gazing at his younger brother in the eye. "Let me scope the situation out before you make the call."

A moment of silence that showed his hesitation, Alex looked away begrudgingly. "Alright then," he admitted slowly, uneasiness still ticked in him, his hands opening and closing back to fists.

"It's best we don't reveal ourselves when we don't know what's going on," he told him. "And if Blackwatch is nearby, it would be better that you and your sister disappear fast instead staying around. You two and... Dave, if he wants to come, would have more chance to get away."

"And you and your family?"

"I'll be careful." Patrick nodded with a shaky smile.

"Your children?" Alex asked grimly.

"Unless you're offering to help then I'm gonna decline. You're going have a lot on your plate if the worst is to come. Besides, I've prepared for a day like this," Pariah reassured before he looked back over his shoulder at the eastern horizon. Fireworks lit the skies in the distant urban housing. "I just hope my kids is ready."

---

As if he was going to let two infected ruin the life they've built for themselves here.

Trust was not an easy feeling to come by, especially to Alex. His first year was filled with moments of betrayal from those he had trusted for help. But six years of nothing and resolute watching, he'd learned enough about Pariah, about the man Patrick Gordon and what he had at stake. The man trusted him enough to warn them ahead when he knew there was a time he would ignore their presence and act everything was under his control.

He wasn't any better in that regard as he once felt Pariah had no business in how he dealt with things.

The doubt and suspicion he was filled with were replaced with worry. He wasn't sure that was better than the paranoia and distrust. Pariah didn't really answer his question what he would do if one of them turned out to be a Runner.

He wouldn't just let her go, would he? Even if she didn't leave a trail of disease behind, it didn't rule out the future where she would. Something like a Runner would only bring death, uncountable amounts of death. Alex's fists tightened at his side. Greene and Blackwatch had taught him that much about what they do.

He stood with his backs against the wall of the abandoned hotel, listening to the sound of footsteps. A derelict layered with years of dust, grimes and rust. Graffiti and cracks in bricks and concretes everywhere where his eyes could see. This was where Pariah would lead them to?

A trap. How though, that was something Pariah wasn't being so subtle. The whispers from the hive, his own whispers. It wasn't like the cry of death or the comforting songs of some broken lullaby he would hear in his damn head if he shut his eyes, but just a beckoning call that wasn't made out of words or imagery. Just the feeling of… safe.

It was the feeling that made Houston unnerving against his senses.

But if one of them was a Runner on the run, she would hear him and understand. Safeness was the one primal instinct all creatures sought and driven towards, one reason Greene made Hope into hell to protect herself and the birth of her child. Would she recognize Pariah, or at least recognize what he offered and what he was? A family providing a safe environment, something a Runner would gravitate towards.

Alex turned slightly, looking over his shoulder and past the opened window where the hotel's courtyard and empty pool waited below. Pariah was somewhere down there, keeping himself hidden.

Then he saw her. Twelve-year-old girl in makeshift clothes that was no doubt stolen slowly walked into the courtyard. Dark-skinned, thin and small, she looked up in wonder at where she was. Alex saw her feature clearly even from how far he was.

Maya Heller?

Shit, if she was here then her suicide was a cover up. The only ones who would stand to gain in hiding the truth from the public were Blackwatch.

Where was the other voice?

He searched but stopped at the sight of Pariah walking up to her, undisguised and in his own form.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alex said quietly.

The man stopped right before the pool and offered his hands, showing them bare or unarmed, or whatever. He was… welcoming her with opened arms. She slowly walked up to him and reached out, hesitating before she placed a hand onto his. Without a word, Pariah crouched down and looked at her curiously, tilting his head, one hand still holding hers. His other hand reached out and rested on her shoulder, the other slipping away from her hold and placed onto her head.

"Watch," Greene whispered, her hand reaching out and encompassing his sight, his mind, everything.

A crash broke him out of his thoughts, debris clattering on the ground with a new hole in the building. Alex stared in incredulity at a hulking huge man in place of Pariah, standing in the middle of a web of crack. He wore what looked like a trench coat that was missing its sleeves. At his size, the article couldn't even reach his knees. The over-muscled piece of flesh itself turned towards the girl fallen onto the ground on her back. From far, Alex saw he was bald and creepily pale with a brutish harsh feature.

His height and the way he held himself seemed awfully familiar.

"What the fuck did I say about touching creepy fucking weirdos?" The giant scolded in an exasperated manner before walking up to her and lifting her up easily by a dangling arm and settling her down. "I can't even take one fucking eye off you and you go wandering about on your own," he muttered in annoyance.

She said nothing when she looked up, her hand still in his and hasn't struggled or even let it go.

The giant man sighed before he frowned darkly, turning his head towards the hole. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

He stood there at the edge of the hole before he stepped off, landing onto the tiled ground with a loud crack.

The girl's protector immediately moved her behind him, slowly backing themselves away as he glared down at the approaching man. "The only other being in this world who could take a hit like that are bitch crazy or should be dead," he said coldly.

The older man said nothing when he walked up to them. Something was off and that was enough for their attacker to grab the girl and immediately jumped away with a loud crack that echoed throughout the building. Pariah was having none of it when he jumped after the fast fleeting figure, grabbing hold of the giant's leg by the ankle and easily in mid-air, he threw them back down, bits of tiles and concretes flying in the crash.

Alex watched as Pariah landed on top. The giant throwing the girl away in time only to have a foot slammed onto the neck when he pressed him down. The black infection of Pariah's virus spread quickly throughout the man and onto the floor, digging through the concretes and tying him down into place.

Except he was stronger than the ground despite a foot on his neck and black bio-ropes made from his own flesh anchoring him down. A violent snarl, the brutish man's face… breaking, stretching as he bared his teeth, sharp stalagmite teeth of a hunter. A clawed hand and hardened black skin that was similar to his own reached out or tried to, pulling against the fleshy bind, shaking in its struggle to grab the foot pressing down his neck.

Cracks reverberated, the floor the black veins had clung to breaking and being lifted as well, Pariah's leg shook as he tried to push the man down with clenching teeth. With a shout, red biomass burst and splattered across the ground. The giant slumped and landed with a loud thump, gasping like a drowning fish as red mass oozed and bled off him. Pariah finally took his foot off him.

Alex winced. A memory of Nathan McKnight swam up in recollection, Pariah had done this before… he liquefied that dog to the bones. It was some kind of bio-bomb and a contained devastator.

But he was not done with him. He had crouched down, grabbing a hold of the man's head and pulling him up to his face.

'Stop.' A wave of whispers rolled inside his head.

He did. The older man slowly looked up, not glaring, not baring his teeth, just the amber-yellow eyes of his mother staring at the girl pushing against his shoulders. The sound of worn soles scraping against the ground could be heard. Pariah stood up slowly, letting go of the head he gripped so fiercely, and grabbed a firm hold onto the girl's hands to make her stop. They quietly stood there, unsaid words spoken as they looked at each other's face before he let her go gently and walked away.

She immediately went over the giant and covered his head protectively with her own body.

Alex frowned as he watched this event unfold, wondering what the hell was going on in Pariah's head. He shook his head and exhaled in frustration, before climbing up the window and jumping down onto the ground below. A loud slam echoed thunderously, he got up and surveyed his handiwork.

Circling around the devastation carefully, he eyed the gurgling giant and the Runner while mindfully avoiding the webs and splatter of black biomass. The giant himself looked at him briefly, his eyes widened in disbelief with a sharp inhale.

"What the fuck was that?" Alex demanded at Pariah.

"Major Bryan, was it?" Pariah began casually at the man slowly getting up from the ground with the girl's help, flesh weaving back to whole with bones cracking into place as the ropes slinked off him like liquid.

His heavy breathing permeated the air as he glared then spat black-red mass at the two male Runners.

"Decommissioned D-Code, scheduled for execution. Former Blackwatch," the older man continued, thirty-years of contempt and resentment laced in his tone.

"Fuck you," Bryan muttered when he finally got up with a stagger then turned to glare at Alex. "Never thought you were dead," he spat.

Alex glared back. "Never thought to see a D-Code protecting a Runner."

Up close, he was even more brutish. Turns out, a D-Code without his mask wasn't a pretty sight to behold. Pale sickly face with swollen facial muscle from thick brow and large forehead, the small eyes weren't helping. Without hair, eyebrow or a single eyelash. Hairless. He wasn't so far from the infected, just missing the pinkish flushed skin and cancerous growth.

"He's a Leader Hunter," Pariah pointed out, jabbing at the arms at his side. "I stopped him before he could completely change."

Alex blinked at the hints of claws receding back to fingerless gloves and hands before turning to stare at the ex-Blackwatch in the face then at the girl holding his hand. Maya Heller backed away and hid behind her protector even more when his blue eyes fell on her.

"She infected you," he said quietly. There was a certain irony to having a Blackwatch siding with a Runner, let alone an infected Blackwatch that was sane enough.

A soft crazy chuckle came from the man. "It was of your handiwork in Manhattan that ruined me in the first place," he said with a bitter smile. "A lot of my friends completely lost their head. Tumors, loss of movements, paralysis, and agonizing pain. You name it," His voice was very quiet at that. "And all in the name to combat the mighty ZEUS."

"You should've expected the consequences when you signed up for the shit," Alex sneered as he circled around the man.

Under project Blacklight, all Redlight strains and its variations were studied. Alex Mercer's engineered strain was but one, DX-1120 was another. It shared some similarity to his strain in its resilience without being an infectious deadly disease and lack the connection to the mother virus. One of the reasons Alex couldn't hear the sound of one hundred sixty-one soldiers as they were like him when he first woke up, and one of the reasons Greene couldn't assimilate the soldiers into her rank.

"What about your creed, huh?" Alex taunted.

Hope, Manhattan, those people suffered because of their mistakes, but he expected them to at least clean up after themselves. It just took one slip, and a town, a city, a whole fucking state would be gone. Even with the nuke, Greene had her pet digging beneath the rocks of Manhattan, tunneling her way beneath the rivers to reach the rest of New York until Blackwatch pumped Bloodtox. Even then, she would have succeeded in stopping that operation if it weren't for him.

"I didn't say I wouldn't do my job!" snarled back the D-Code. "I didn't want to die, not like a fucking trash left to burn on a street," he admitted quietly with a shaking voice. "You know what Blackwatch do, even to their own."

"Except instead of gracefully accepting your execution like a proud soldier, you run off to Manhattan," Pariah said with false pity. "What did you hope to find there, a cure in those facilities? Where victims of Redlight were still suffering despite the donations, the state of the art equipment and top scientists day and night finding a way. But instead, you found something else," Pariah said quietly, pointing at the girl.

"Losing your mind, lost, knowing no better, hearing things, hearing them, it led you to her." The words hit its mark, Alex saw the man flinched.

"Lilian Truss," Alex said when he remembered the other suicide. "What happened to her?" he demanded.

"I don't see why it should matter to you," the man snarled.

Alex glared, hands at his side curling up into fists. "Maybe I should take your head instead. Less talking involved that way," he snapped coldly.

"We need them alive," Pariah interjected in the back. "If they disappear here, Blackwatch would have a reason to linger in this city. After all, there isn't a lot of things out there that could kill these two easily."

"And what of the girl?" Alex asked.

Pariah said nothing before he turned to look at the hulking man. "You stopped her, didn't you?" His green eyes rested on the large hand no longer claws, black-gloved gears of Blackwatch wrapped around small bare ones.

They tightened at his words but said nothing. The girl looked up to her protector imploringly, her hands in his.

"She didn't… she didn't understand," he finally spoke. "Didn't know what she was, what she was capable of. Just following what..." His voice hitched strangely for a moment. "The voices in her head told her. I stopped her after she did what she was meant to do, what she did to me. Before she could continue following naively," he finished with a flash of determination in his eyes.

But in return, she has your head.

"You think that's going to last, huh?" Alex snorted. "What happens when the day comes, the day when you can't stop her, what will you do?" He glared at the hulking man.

Would you eat her? Kill her?

Would you follow her?

Or would you run away?

"Just think, Zeus. If she dies, what then?" Pariah said coldly. "Will you wander the Earth forever, burdened with the sins of others and yours? Be driven mad? Succumb to mother's whisper? Live on bitterly? Or just dump yourself into the center of the Earth, killing yourself?"

But that never happened. Dana didn't become another Greene. He didn't have to raise his hand against her, he didn't have to make those decisions, he didn't have to face his failure. The worst never came true.

She was alive. She was happy and safe.

Maya Heller wasn't Dana. She was a Runner like Greene.

"I could ask the same when the day comes I see your face again in the headlines like the germ that you are," the giant answered back with a challenging gaze.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen," Alex replied with a roll of his eyes before turning away.

The man laughed. "I doubt a monster can truly shed his claws. It takes one to enjoy killing hundreds of men."

"And a Blackwatch would always be a Blackwatch." Alex sneered back.

"Why would you care?" The D-Code demanded.

"Because unlike you, I'm not going to let another Hope happened!" he snapped. "All of this, all of us wouldn't have happened if Blackwatch had been stopped. Greene, Hope, Blacklight..." Manhattan

"But like it matters to you," Mercer added quietly when he looked at the D-Code. "Shoot first, ask question later. Do fucking nothing."

There was a scoff from the D-Code. "If it makes you feel better, germ. Blackwatch is in the hand of a colonel who's not gonna tolerate the ghouls and the shitfest Randall left behind. I've tossed my coin onto his cards and say A-fucking-men to that."

Pariah laughed at that but kept to himself.

"What were they doing in that facility?" Alex demanded. "To the point, it resulted her. A Runner!"

Maya Heller said nothing as she stood behind the giant. Hasn't Blackwatch learned their lesson, or were they purposely making Runners out of whatever they could get their hands on?

A heavy exhale, teeth grinding against each other as the D-Code glared at them with contemplative silence. He relented after that pause, "She was under special treatment. A new cutting-edge gene therapy. They called it CRISPR or something, it was supposed to be a cure," he snorted.

CRISPR? Clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats. A genome editing tool. Originally, part of a bacteria's antiviral immune system. He recalled the article.

Compared to typical retrovirus enzymes, CRISPR was more accurate as it has the ability to recognize foreign viral matter in the DNA and cut it off from where it starts and ends, that is if the enzyme was given the genetic material of the virus as a reference material to find its match in the DNA.

It could also be used to edit DNA through this method as one could program and just give the genetic sequence to point where to cut in the DNA in live cells.

It was a perfect treatment for latent asymptomatic patients. They could cut the Redlight out of them, stop the virus life cycle.

"What went wrong?" Alex asked.

"Redlight was what happened," the man said scornfully. "The virus… is a complete monster. It adapted, doing what it's been doing best."

Mutation, it changed into a new strain as it was prone to do. Vaccination was useless for this reason as with many inhibition drugs. The genetic material used as a reference in CRISPR would become useless. What was worst, when it mutated, it changed the behavior of it and the cell that carried the treatment until CRISPR became a part of the virus complex system.

Redlight received a precision tool where it could change people into what it wanted with fewer failures that usually end with cancerous growth. It made a little girl with limited time on this Earth into an immortal unaging Runner instead of a mad Walker or something or another.

"Did the same happen to Lilian Truss?" Alex glared at the D-Code, watching his reaction carefully.

Bryan looked down at that, the girl leaning her head against his arm, his hand around hers squeezed briefly. There was a flash of emotion that quickly disappeared. "Blackwatch put her down," he finally admitted.

Another Runner. "I guess those under the same treatment shared the same fate," Alex said quietly, wasn't sure he was glad or satisfied at this. "What about James Heller?"

The D-Code stiffened. "Probably dead by Blackwatch if what I did didn't finish him."

"Daddy," Maya whispered sadly to herself.

There were actual tears spilling freely down her face. She remembered. Of course, she would. Greene did remember Hope and her son even though her memories were fragmented and were missing the human emotions. But she never reacted, never made a move to get her son back. Just waited and waited, doing nothing until he came upon her. But Maya, she missed her father clearly, she still remembered her human emotions, still had them.

He turned to look at Pariah then saw how pale the older man had grown when he saw her.

Perhaps this strain of Redlight preserved more of its host compared to what it did to Greene, but would that last? Given forty years, would Maya Heller disappear until all that was left was a Runner? When that day come, he knew he would be ready to end her if he couldn't, Alex stared at the D-Code. But today, now, before she could become the monster that she would be?

"Kill her. End her misery."

He couldn't do it then. Would there have been a part of her somewhere in there, even when all was lost? Would he have done it to Dana if there was?

There wasn't any point in thinking like this.

Alex scowled to himself before he looked at Pariah and made a motion to him. He nodded quietly before both of them turned towards their targets. A soft squelch of biomass slithering, black veins spilled into liquid as they seeped out of the cracks. Debris clattered when they pushed broken tiles out of the way, joining their way towards Pariah.

The D-Code staggered in startle at this before pulling the girl up onto his shoulder quickly, away from the moving streams of biomass as it slid across the broken ground.

Alex waited as Pariah finished his clean up. Quietly, without a word, the man walked away, leaving only him behind. It was at this very moment the rogue D-Code grunted and buckled onto his knee, the girl hopping off him and quickly let his arm rested over her shoulder. A show of weakness, Alex stared at him, slightly amused. The brutish man glared back unhappily. Pariah must have taken a lot out of him.

"Who the hell was he?" Bryan finally spat as he breathed heavily. "I didn't take you as one to multiply," he added drily.

The seven-year-old being snorted. "Ask her, they seem to be close," Alex said, pointing at the girl at his side before turning around.

If anything of how Pariah treated her, with respect even, like… a concerned family member, that was something he was going to ask later.

"Leave this city now, and take Blackwatch with you," he warned them coldly. "Make no mistake, I will hunt you both down if the worst comes to worst."

A loud crack and he was gone, disappearing over the roofline of the building.

---

"You sympathized with her," Alex said accusingly as they stood on the same rooftop.

The man said nothing as he laid on the ground, eyes shut and appeared to be sleeping.

"She's not your sister," he went on.

"She is," Pariah said quietly.

"She isn't," Alex corrected.

"She carries Redlight."

"Greene didn't make her."

"Redlight did."

"Redlight isn't a being."

"It was, until you."

Alex huffed. There were times he didn't get this man. He was more human than him but then he would go and spout this kind of crap.

"You seemed to forget, Elizabeth Greene wasn't just my mother, the virus was as well," Pariah pointed out softly.

"You view them as two separate beings?"

"No. But they were my mother all the same."

"Why do you care?" Alex asked, partially annoyed and aggravated at this sudden change.

"I didn't, once," Pariah answered quietly. "I didn't give a shit when I was living in that lab. I didn't give a damn when my sisters died one by one, hunted by Blackwatch. I didn't… I didn't really care about my mother, just like she couldn't," he admitted. "I should have. I should have…" he repeated brokenly. "I could have."

Was he… regretting? Alex stared, disconcerted.

"I made myself cared. Made myself capable. I changed. Now, look at me," Patrick Gordon scoffed. "I could have made my mother more like me, so that she could understand, so that she could be more… become more than that husk who did nothing for the whole of my life."

Grief?

"A part of me still love her despite how wrong… and empty she was. Isn't that stupid?" He laughed bitterly. "She was the only thing I had."

"Why now?" Alex said and sighed, leaning against the railing and crossing his arms.

"The girl. She's different," Pariah answered simply. "She's… more alive."

Alex watched the man laid still on the concrete ground, illuminated palely by the city lights spread all around below them. The eyes still shut and refused to open, but he could see the glistening corners.

"Greene, she remembered you," he told him.

"But she did nothing."

"I don't think she could," Alex said. Forty-years of nothing, until somehow the virus escaped, the infection waiting for her to finally wake up.

She needed the hive, she needed something to get her back up. She needed an outbreak. Pariah could have unleashed the outbreak for his mother's sake, but he didn't. He had to thank his resentment and apathetic nature for that. But now, he wasn't apathetic. He learned to care and that was a dangerous feeling.

"You're right about that." Pariah smiled. "Do you remember any of my mother's memory, a meeting of some kind?"

Alex hesitated. His mother's memories weren't whole, unlike the humans. There were no sound, no solid information, no emotions captured, he wasn't sure what Elizabeth felt since numerous scientists came and went, taking samples, moving her around. But one stood out, she had clasped onto the man and a fleeting sadness lingered after, then the memory was lost again to the empty whispers.

It didn't really make sense. He assumed he died or something as the only time she would react was to infect.

"That was the best she could do," Pariah said sadly. "She remembers a lot, she remembers Hope, she remembers the voices, she remembers so many things. But couldn't with the littlest things. She did her best though." He smiled wistfully and hummed.

He hummed a lullaby. A familiar one that stirred some nostalgia out of him. Nostalgia he knew that wasn't his.

"Stop that," Alex scolded. It was unnerving and fucking creepy.

Pariah laughed raspily at his reaction.

"What do you mean when you said you made yourself cared?" he asked him once he settled down.

"I didn't become Patrick Gordon that easily, you know," Pariah said quietly. "This, this right now… wouldn't have been me if I didn't make myself…" He stopped and sighed. "I changed myself literally, Alex. I was incapable of… giving a damn, feeling. Y'know, being human." He huffed in amusement. "I wasn't like you, and frankly, you cheated with your humanity," he pointed out wryly.

Alex rolled his eyes. Consuming numerous criminals, scientists, Marines, civilians, Blackwatch, assimilating them and their memories, their experiences… hundreds of human emotions, hundreds of giving a damn, hundreds damning his actions. Sure, call it cheating.

"I didn't know what I had, what I could have. And even when I did, I think I believed it wouldn't make a difference. I didn't know better," Pariah went on. "I was… like my mother but more."

Apathetic, indifferent with an inhuman instinct that all the more separated him from the men in black and the white coats that hovered him day to day. He was also a boy, a vindictive, psychopathic boy who could grow, who could have become something other than that, other than just a Runner.

"I made myself human," Pariah confessed. "Close to it, at least."

"And would that last?"

"I don't know," Pariah answered, opening a green eye. "People change, Alex. We change. For better or worse. One day, the person I'm now will be gone and what then?" he said softly. "Would I be like my mother? Or would I just go back to the days I felt nothing, cared for nothing, did only nothing. Nothing, just... dreams and memories."

Alex grimaced and looked away. Would that truly be a lost? It was because he didn't care that led Pariah to do nothing for forty years. It was the same nature that made Elizabeth Greene done nothing against her captors throughout her captivity.

But if he didn't really care, he wouldn't have cured Dana, he wouldn't have agreed to his request, wouldn't give a damn about his mother's legacy, wanted to be rid of it even. He could have finished her off, call it a day and they would have separated.

"I did not save the girl for her sake, I saved her for you. And for mother."

"No," Alex disagreed. "You would find another reason, another way."

A long time ago, he was asked what he would do if Dana was gone and died. It felt like everything was going to end, a future he couldn't imagine without her, lost without her, or worst, only felt nothing at her passing. But that was wrong. The sun always rises from the east, the world will continue to spin, and he would continue to exist in this world alone whether he liked it or not, but he would find a way. He had all the time in the world to come to terms with that, he just hoped it wouldn't be too late and wouldn't lead to more regrets.

"You would've killed us a long time ago, wouldn't you?" He looked down at Pariah.

"If the worst was to come," the older man confessed. "You and your sister combined would have been more dangerous than my mother."

"Would you have done the same to them?" The rogue D-Code and the Runner girl, an interesting duo, but he doubted their future was a happy one.

Pariah opened his amber-green eyes. "Don't they deserve the same chance like us, Zeus?"

Sympathy was a double-edged blade, especially to a being like Pariah. It felt like he could fall, slip away. It meant he cared more than he should, for the wrong reasons, to the wrong beings. Those Runners, he saw them as his… sisters, he truly saw them as his family. Alex just couldn't understand why, but it was probably the nature of Greene's Runners, the same nature that made his mother view those she infected as her family.

It felt like a day would come when this… inhuman nature of his would grip him and would make him forget who he was. Only just some Runner who felt he had to lead them, protect them.

Would he become like that? Alex stared at Pariah unhappily. Was that what would have happened to Dana and him? Would he, the Monster of Manhattan, really protect her despite everything he fought for, everything he promised to himself, despite what it would mean and what she would become? Wouldn't he stop her, end her? Couldn't he?

"You never really explain why you didn't stop your mother."

He didn't unleash the outbreak and that was because of his resentment. But saving her? It had nothing to do with the human race. He didn't save her, never took her away from Gentek and Blackwatch, did he resent her? He didn't make a move to stop her or join her when she finally woke up.

"You know what she did was… wrong."

Pariah had lived amongst humans as a human long enough to know and understand this.

"She only thought what was best." Pariah smiled unnervingly. "You know the answer, Zeus."

"You didn't care." Back then, at least.

Pariah said nothing.

"And now, do you regret it?"

"Now… now, I wished I had felt something, anything," he added softly in yearning.

It wasn't an answer Alex liked.

Pariah sat up suddenly. "I could... I could do the same with the girl. Make her more, so that she could understand and not become like my mother."

"Stop," Alex snapped. He was not going to condone this, it was a slippery slope that led to infecting, justifying this fucked up desires that brought Manhattan and Hope into ruin. "You start now then where would it end?"

"I've done it before. To humans too. Make them discover themselves all over again, realize something new about themselves, the littlest things. I didn't really care about the lives I've changed," Pariah confessed numbly. "It taught me how to become… me."

"That was then, this is now," he told him sternly.

"It wouldn't really be that different to what I did to myself," he said quietly.

To change the nature of a Runner - no, he wouldn't call it a change but to make them capable of learning, emphasizing, realizing what they've done, the gravity of their actions and their nature? This wasn't a tale Alex wanted to repeat. It involved pain and regrets that no one should have experienced. Not even those who were less than them.

It would mean Pariah had no qualms in experimenting with his own kind, his own… family but for the sake of what? How was this any different to the days he didn't give a shit about humankind and his own. In fact, this was worse if this was what it meant when Pariah cared.

Look at him, look at them, they were the only examples of their fucked-up existence, and it wasn't a life he wanted to share with another. A life where they don't fully belong in neither this human world and the virus dreams they were meant for. To make the girl into something like them, it would not make the world a better place.

It would give reasons to her grievance against the world, that there was a thought that could be understood behind their infection.

"This isn't a life for anyone, Pariah." Alex shook his head.

"We turned out fine."

"You don't know for sure it would end well for the girl."

"She would have us."

Oh, he was willing to take responsibility for her now? That was a fucking lie, and he knew it. If there was one thing he knew about Pariah was that he wouldn't do anything that would jeopardize his current life. Taking in a girl hunted down by Blackwatch was one of them. Alex glared at him and Pariah smiled knowingly.

"Humanity isn't a gift," Alex said gravely.

It wasn't something he could just make and give it.

"Then it's a curse?" Pariah looked up, smiling eerily like his mother.

He wasn't wrong in a way because it was humanity that damned him and made him heavy with guilt. He wasn't proud with some of his actions back in Manhattan, and he hated his naivety the most. There could have been another way, another path that didn't involve more regrets, but that was easier said than done.

Alex hated this kind of conversation, these kinds of thoughts. "It's better than nothing," he finally admitted bitterly.

Both of their phones rang at the same time, jolting him out of his thoughts. He quickly picked it up and blinked at the text message. Cheesy moving emoticons of fireworks decorated his screen.

Happy Thanksgiving,

From DD.

"You want a drink?" the older Runner finally asked after looking up from his own phone. "Just to forget about things."

"I doubt we can," Alex snorted, shutting his phone.

He needed to watch out for him. Pariah wasn't in the right headspace right now and that needed to be looked on. And here he thought he was going to leave for Manhattan to get answers, Alex sighed, staring at the older man in annoyance.

"Know a place that's still open?" he asked.

Pariah looked at him incredulously. "No," he said the obvious. "But we could break into one," he offered.

---

"Dad, where have you been!? You've been gone the whole night!"

"We need to talk," an older voice, a teenage boy said gravely.

"About that, I've been meaning to t-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. It's about time we talk about your alcoholic problems, dad!" A girl cut in seriously.

"My… what?"

Alex stared at Gordon's house in silent amusement before he walked off. For now, he had them to remind his place in that world he built for himself. He doubted Dana or even him could do better at that. A distant dog barked as he pulled out his phone, snapping the headset on before taking one earbud into his ear. It was better than dealing with the voices in his head and after tonight, he didn't want to hear his thoughts or its opinions on the matter.

"On November 2008, a tragedy struck on this soil we stand today," the podcast began. "The first act of biological and nuclear terrorism. More than one million and three hundred thousand lives lost. Not including the Marines who sacrificed their lives - to give those who lived a chance to see another year. The wounds are still felt - still bleeding even today. But we persevere! For those who are still fighting, for those who have passed on, we persevere in the face of terror."

---

AN: Of White Doves and Black Ravens arc done. Now I can write the chapter that I've been wanting to write since the story's conception. Oh yeah… I had to cut off Alex's action part since it didn't fit the theme.

The things I want to write always get sideline because thematic thematic thematic durr hurr. Also if you hate this chapter, tell me the reasons. While I enjoy writing this story, I also want to improve. I also want to know what you guys expected from this story.