My entry for this years MadaSakuWeek day 3. The prompt I used was Demon AU. This also has a feeling of "Have we met before?" but since it's not in dialogue I doubt it counts.
Full AU description - 80s, zombie/demon post-apocalypse, same age AU. Madara still is older than Sakura by 3 years, but considering how their usual age difference is a decade and up I thought it's worth mentioning that this time they're closer in age.
Inspirations: Days Gone, Doom, Evil Dead and Berserk.
And yes the story is named after a synthwave band because I'm that unoriginal and their songs originally inspired me to do this idea. All over its supposed to be a story where I just dorp in everything that I like. This story will be closely related to music, so yeah I'm that person that also gave them respective character songs. The Man Who Made a Monster by Dance With The Dead for Madara and Beyond Memory by Nina for Sakura. Listen to them if you like.
This chapters respective song to create the mood is Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann. I'm probably gonna post a link to the full playlist on my Tumblr, so if you're interested check that out.
September 19th, 1985
A dull pain throbbed all over his body, the source of the pain unidentifiable. Madara groaned, opening his eyes. The bright light burned his retinas, and he squinted his eyes closed. He was tired and barely could move. His head pulsed with a headache. It was like someone had thrown him under a truck.
Faint memories of being sloshed and aimlessly walking around the dim streets of Konoha passed his mind. There had been a book in his hand. He might have read from the book. Was it poems? Or some other nonsense? It wasn't important. Rest after that was blurred. Red and orange flashing colours and pain.
Madara tentatively opened his eyes again. He flinched, the light still burning his eyes. It took a while to get used to. A stark white room presented itself, a stream of soft light illuminated the room from the window. He was laying in a bed with white sheets. And a woman in a pale dress was on his other side, tending to the side table and an IV. A nurse?
Blearily he brought a hand to his eye, rubbing it. The action hurt way more than it should and he hissed through his teeth.
"Ah, you're awake. I'm going to get a doctor." The nurse smiled and exited the room with a silent click of the door.
He went through the events that had happened the previous night and how could that correlate in him ending up in a hospital bed, sore all over. There was a blank spot in his memory. His injuries didn't tell much. A bandage was on his shoulder, side and thigh and a lot of bruises on his arms. His shoulder specifically was causing the most discomfort. It could be possible that he got into a fight.
This was bad. He assumed that the sole reason why there wasn't a cop waiting for him to wake up to put him in cuffs is that he'd gotten into the habit of carrying no ID around. A habit that was both a convenience and an inconvenience at the same time. It hurt to move, but he had to get out of here as fast as possible.
With a grunt he sat up, favouring greatly his right hand to lean on. Black spots danced before his eyes and he fell back into the pillows. For a moment he stared at the stark ceiling, contemplating moving again.
The door opened and in strode a woman with pale pink hair pulled up in a small ponytail. She beamed and picked up the chart at the end of his bed. "Hello. I'm Dr Haruno, and I will be your doctor for the duration of your stay."
Madara blinked. Her cheer was annoying and her voice grated his nerves. Despite being drowsy he wanted a drink to muddle his brain more and forget that this was happening.
She flipped through the chart, pulled out a pen from her white overcoat and wrote down something. He got the uncanny feeling that he has seen her somewhere before. The face was vaguely familiar.
"Hmm… no name," she murmured, throwing a long appraising look his way. "You were lucky that Mr Inuzuka saw you and transported you here, otherwise you might have bled out in that alley," she paused, letting him take in the information. He stored the name in his memory, not recognizing it. Inhaling and letting her eyes fall back to the chart, she continued. "Because these were wounds from a gun, we have contacted the police and an officer should be here in a couple of minutes to talk to you."
He froze.
"The shot to your shoulder did some minor damage, though you should make a quick recovery. You will be free to go home tomorrow." Dr Haruno put down the chart but didn't move from her spot. She tilted her head, brows drawn. "You must be a member of the Uchiha family; I'd recognize those features anywhere. If you want, I can contact some family for you."
"No!" The abrupt shout hurt his throat, and he coughed. The last thing he needed was those supposed family members finding him. He has to get out of here. Now.
Dr Haruno recoiled back but quickly gathered her composure. "Alright. Can I at least know your name? I need to fill out your chart, and it would help your investigation for when the police gets here."
Shit, shit. With his good hand, he threw off the covers and, ignoring the burning pain, sat up.
Dr Haruno was at his side immediately, a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Please, lay down. You should rest."
Madara slapped her hand away and shifted his legs out of the bed, ripping off the wire connected to him. Dr Haruno moved to touch him again and he glared and pushed her away. "Move."
"Mr Uchiha, please calm down."
He sneered at the use of his last name, pushing past her towards the door. He didn't have time to lay around here. It was bad enough he had landed here in the first place. Less drinking and wandering around from now on. If he could manage it.
Though there was just one problem – his ass was hanging out. The hospital provided sheet-like gowns covered very little. Pausing he turned back to the doctor. "Where are my clothes?"
She opened her mouth, bewildered before she managed to place the words together, motioning faintly to the bedside nightstand. "We had to get rid of them, but new ones should be there along with whatever possessions you were brought in with."
He moved past her, ripping the stand open and finding that indeed a pile of bleak blue was there. The same book from last night was in there too; the same dark brown covers, with a gritty texture.
"But please, you must lay down. You were brought out of surgery only a couple of hours ago, moving around so much might tear the stitches."
Madara stifled through the clothes, clicking his tongue. "Afraid I cannot do so, Doctor." It hurt to move with such urgency and putting on the pyjama pants was more painful than he'd thought it would be. He shucked off the sheet with a grimace and put on the plain t-shirt. On a lower shelf were his boots.
Dr Haruno was nervously flitting her hands, trying to say something else.
He pulled on his boots and as an afterthought, rolled up the book in a spare shirt. Somehow it felt important and like it was a piece of a puzzle that currently had presented itself.
Before he left he cast a last glance towards the doctor. He must have seen her somewhere before. The colour of her hair, her eyes and the way she was fiddling with her hands stirred something in his memory. He gave up. "Thanks for your help, Doctor. Much appreciated." He slightly tilted his head and scurried out, Dr Haruno following him and watching his retreating back at the doorway.
The corridors were filled with people, many of them frantic. Some were shouting at the few nurses that were running around. It was stuffy and the noise was increasing the further he went.
Madara kept his head down, avoiding making direct eye contact. He had to shove his way through various crowds of people, none of them too bothered by his intrusion. All of the focus was elsewhere. He didn't care enough to pay attention. The fluorescent lights and smell of antiseptic were making him itch the longer he stayed there.
He wandered the corridors, searching for an exit. There were no windows, no way to know if he was on the ground floor or higher. He shouldered past a group of people that were hanging around a single door. Somewhere from behind a different door loud screaming erupted. Nobody paid it any mind and he swiftly moved on.
It was like this everywhere he went. After each turn he took there were way too many people in various states of distress and injury.
A commotion started ahead and people came running and screaming. Madara plastered himself to the wall to prevent being trampled over. Guttural growls reached his ears amongst the chaos. People fell over each other, scrambling to get back to feet. Some even latched onto others...biting?
Madara looked away from the bizarre sight and moved forward. The metallic tang of blood permitted in the air and something else, something he couldn't exactly place. It reminded him of burnt meat. His eyes watered from the overpowering smell.
Something wasn't right.
Suddenly the corridor was empty. All of the people had fled the other way. Heavy, rough almost like growling breathing came from just behind the next turn. Lights flickered.
He paused, taking an involuntary step back.
Like in slow motion a skeletal like creature with large horns stepped out, filling the expanse of the corridor. It had no eyes just empty eye sockets with two yellow glowing dots and sharp uncovered teeth. The few muscles it had were bare, no skin. It raised its talons, dragging them across the wall, easily breaking plaster.
His breath hitched and he high-tailed it back down the hallway. He got a stitch in his side and he easily lost his breath. Damn injuries. Fuck searching for an exit, a bloody window will do, be it ground floor or higher. He wasn't going to deal with whatever that thing was.
The thing slowly advanced through the corridor, the hooves of its feet clacking like an ominous clock.
Madara ripped open the first door that he could find. Like cued everyone that was in the room looked at him with glassy eyes and open mouths. The sight was eerie, and he slowly shut the door closed. Nope, not dealing with that either.
Scraping of nails drew closer.
He didn't dare look behind at the creature and ran farther. He already had enough nightmare fuel to last him a lifetime. This shit didn't need to be added to that.
The further he went the more bloodshed happened. People were acting crazy and attacking each other – ripping, scratching, biting. Madara avoided the more enthusiastic ones, whacking them in the head with the book or shoving them into the wall. Each strenuous movement ripped a harsh grimace from him. Something warm trickled down his side, he must've torn a stitch.
The hospital was like a maze. Screams echoed through the wide corridors.
Trying another door seemed less and less appealing. Most of the commotion was coming from inside the rooms. He turned what felt like the millionth corner only to be met with the same sight as before – corridor filled with people, some screaming in agony as others tore into them. Flesh was being ripped straight from the bone, the motion staining the pristine walls in red.
The lights flickered.
Madara backtracked, this time following the rush of other people that had managed to get away from the scene.
Was he dreaming? This wasn't something that happened in real life. Too much was happening too fast.
Another turn, another picture of carnage. The whole expanse of the corridor was smeared red, various parts of what used to be a human scattered all over. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils.
The corridor was empty and ignoring the gore he ran through it, tracking bloody footprints after him.
In the next corridor he had to beat off more people, their teeth clacking and fingers twitching. All of them looked deranged and were injured in one way or another, some less gruesome than others. Heavy growls left their mouths, froth gathering at the corners.
It was like from the films – people hungry for human flesh. What did they call them again? Ah, zombies.
A particularly mobile zombie lunged at him. Madara shielded himself with the wrapped book from its hands. If he remembered right then zombies were infectious, though he couldn't recall exactly how they transferred the infection. Watching TV hadn't been a leisure he could have had afforded to engage in lately. Then again this was real life and not a film. Madara kicked the zombie back into a pile of other people? Or zombies? It didn't matter. He pushed past the pile, grimacing at the gouged up man the zombies were feasting on and took another turn.
There in the middle of the corridor, a pale pink head and a couple other people in white overcoats were batting away zombies with chairs and IV stands. He briefly connected the hair colour to Dr Haruno. She was beating away a zombie that had lodged its teeth in her arm with a hefty surgical tool.
The corridor was blocked and whatever problems Dr Haruno was facing were not his own. He backtracked to the junction and took a different corridor.
Blessedly, after another turn and a beat off sneak attack from a zombie he had found the exit, as indicated by the bright green sticker overhead.
The back entrance parking lot didn't have anything out of the ordinary – it was sparsely covered in vehicles. Wet gurgling broke that image. Not too far from a red smeared ambulance two zombafied paramedics slinked, their mouths wide open and posture unnaturally bent. Loud screams tore through the air, a window of the hospital breaking somewhere.
Madara scanned the various vehicles, looking for something fast to get him as far away from here as possible, preferably back to his loft. Undoubtedly this zombie thing will spread, and the city will be swarmed. Which was his cue to pack up and get the fuck out of Konoha.
As luck would have it, a police motorcycle was left abandoned with the keys in the ignition not too far away. He secured the book in a pouch on the motorcycle and revved the engine. The sound captured the attention of the paramedic zombies. But before any of them could get any closer he was already speeding out of the parking lot and into the streets.
The city itself was relatively calm, and the sun was low in the sky. It was rush hour and with the bike, he easily traversed through the traffic.
Something was off, though. The people were distraught, their faces dim and gait hurried. The people driving were more aggressive almost frantic. It was like the city was at the brink of panic.
It didn't matter. What mattered was finding out what happened to him. Who injured him and what was up with the morbid looking book?
All over the story will have 7 chapters. Each chapter will encompass a day, so the length will vary. A song will be assigned to each chapter, songs from the 80s of course.