Did the title get your attention? This is where the romance really starts! It's something I'm hyped to explore. I hope it's not tacky for Nicole to enter into another the moment her previous one dissolved; being asexual and aromantic, I've never been in a relationship, so I don't know. That's a problem with writing nearly 200,000 words set in the span of less than a day; things happen quickly.
My publishing internship has started, and that's going well. It's a field I would never have considered without fanfiction. Hard to overstate how much this website has changed my life, and I truly thank you for all being part of that. I hope I can also be a positive influence for all of you, no matter how small. On that subject, I apologize for the substantial wait. It's been a month since the last update. I've slowed down both because of work and because I'm stewing on a new fanfiction project. I won't publish it for a long time, but inspiration is coming to me on that in droves right now, and I have to strike while the iron is hot.
Because I keep bringing it up, it's time to explain Peng, at least my interpretation. What's this sex thing I keep referencing? Throughout the entire series, it's a brand found on signs and billboards, paired with attractive women. That's really all we know; it was an inside joke between the game devs. My idea is that it's one of the most popular pastimes of the future – a VR service where people can create ideal sexual partners, with nerve stimulation and everything. Makes sense to me with how vapid this world is.
One more thing. Remember how I got fanart of Mike last chapter? Well, between that and now, I got some of Foxy from a completely different person – check out DelightedRabbit on DeviantArt for a fantastic interpretation of her. Kind of doubt I'll ever get any for this story, considering Dead Space is a completely different fandom, but that's all right.
Thanks to RabidPanzer, CelfwrDderwydd, AlexanderMugetsu, TheRocketuerE, AncientOfDayz and derpysauce for reviewing. Those are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
15 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak
Curtis considered his newfound relationship with Nicole as the tram trundled along. It wasn't officially anything yet, though they wanted it to be.
He didn't know how this could possibly work, though. The Red Marker was right in that every minute and hour they endured brought more death into their worlds. Their lives circled the drain. Even if they escaped, her reality would be one of misery spent sequestered indoors and without any of her kind. He'd get a job in a mine somewhere while she rotted away in a prison in all but name. Even for the undead, that wasn't a life!
Was this a good thing? Isaac and Nicole decided to separate – that was their business, and he wouldn't question it. However, was it responsible to court her so soon after a breakup?! He didn't want to take advantage of her by pressuring her while vulnerable. Peering into her mind, he saw she rebuffed his unease.
Curtis, I appreciate that you're so concerned about me. You're sensitive. Flashes of his past rebounded into his forethought: dead-end relationships and broken hearts leading him to opt for sex alone. Nothing wrong with that, but he wanted more. This won't work out perfectly. We're different in so many ways. Even if they operated well in combat, that meant little on the battlefield of life. This wasn't my first choice. I don't say that to demean or imply you're a lesser person, just to remind you this won't be easy for anyone.
There were so many ways his spark of hope in the dark night could become a black hole itself. I'm not trying to treat you like a child, he responded. Just… I've never been in a relationship. With our connection and the fact you're you, we'll always have to be together. Even if they ended up despising each other, abandoning her would be abominable; they were forever bound. I can't give you a good life, but I want to give you the best I can. Warmth and joy pooled in her chest, and a beautiful smile spread her scabrous face, a gesture that facilitated such feelings in him.
At this point, he was more baffled than concerned that he found her alluring. Like, he'd never been particularly turned on by the weird fetishes saturating the Transnet, and there were many. As humanity expanded, so did the boundaries of social acceptability. Nobody batted an eye anymore, which he appreciated. But the furry chicks programmed into Peng never did it for him, nor did any other non-humans. He was pretty vanilla in that regard.
So why he was attracted to a raptor/bug zombie was beyond him. Maybe it's because she's actually real. Those other things aren't.
The tram creaked as it rolled into their stop, causing Isaac to wake and grumble something unintelligible. He looked like a man on a bender, which was about how Curtis felt. Curtis noticed that he, Isaac and the gondola shared ailments such as rickets, chills and fevers. They were all part of the same system now, freely trading illnesses between them.
His head sloshed as he stood, and a swarm of insects momentarily buzzed in his helm. With Isaac's blood in him, things weren't as bad as he expected, at least. He felt weaker, though, like he'd just gained 10 years. I have to be smarter going forward.
Nothing seemed sinister about this terminal. In fact, it was the cheeriest, with regular light and a little something extra. Behind sheer glass panes were samples of fruits and vegetables grown on the deck. Sequestered in their own sections were succulent melons, ripe pears and fat pumpkins, grown in pools of nutrient-enriched water and genetically modified to be as hardy as possible. He was surprised to see them alive, but it made sense. The infrastructure was more intact here than other decks, and even the Marker couldn't make a tomato kill itself. His mouth watered looking at them, and he heard Isaac's stomach growl.
Nicole was confused for a moment. Took her several seconds to recall these strange green things. It was both funny and sad she needed to think to remember vegetation. Maybe it shouldn't have been, though. The only plants he'd ever seen in the "wild" were scraggly clumps of grass and spiky weeds in the cracks of pavement. There were more in that recent dream about him and Nicole at a botanical garden or something than he'd seen in real life.
I just wish I could have some. Wait, he could! He almost forgot no one was alive to halt his fruit theft. "Hey, I'm gonna get some of this," he said, punching through the material. Breaking it with his RIG was like swatting a fly. "You want any?" He dipped his gauntlet into a tub of water and swirled it around to remove most of the grime and zombie bits before plucking a perfect yellow apple off the small branch sustaining it.
Wait, don't take off your helmet, Nicole said, but hunger got the better of him. She wanted him to stay healthy and hydrated? Well, this was the best way to do both! He retracted the covering and immediately regretted it. His eyes watered and throat burned the moment they were exposed, making him retch and change course. There's methanol in the air here. Inhaling even a little causes nervous system depression. This was followed by a round of images and sensations that could cause, none of them pleasant: paralysis, seizures, loss of bowel control. Didn't quiet his stomach, though.
Fine, I'll eat after we clean the atmosphere, he thought while expelling noxious ether from his lungs. Fortunately, the air scrubbers could take care of that unless concentrations got really high. At that point, it'd switch over to his oxygen reserves. How do you know so much about chemicals, though?
It's not my specialty, but we were just at the Chem Lab. Most compounds on a starship will kill you if you aren't careful, so doctors have to be familiar with at least the basics. Made sense, but that appeared difficult with how similar the names sounded. I'm sure you can learn more on the local Transnet if me showing you a guy going blind from methonic acid eating his optic nerves didn't convince you.
"Will you tell me what you're talking about?" Isaac asked, making both their heads shoot toward the man, who methodically tapped his foot on the metal. "Don't deny it. It's plain as day there's a conversation in your heads. I just want to know if it's about something important." Curtis didn't think anyone would catch on. Yes, they operated uncannily well together and knew things they probably shouldn't have, but who would discern the cause? Only then did he realize how much of a psycho he'd been, laughing and sighing with seemingly no provocation. "I already know you Necromorphs are part of some crazy hive mind. You have something similar?"
All right, all right. There was no point keeping it a secret. They mostly just wanted to protect their privacy, but now Isaac learned his former girlfriend and Curtis tried to start something; secrecy was out the window. He let Nicole quickly explain it, which only took a minute. Isaac was addled and not well-versed in the science of telepathy, but he comprehended enough to get the basics: they were compatible, and the amount of psychic energy between them created a "Bond" similar but not identical to the ones Necromorphs shared with each other.
"Please don't tell Hammond about this," Nicole requested, ending her story with a paean for solidarity. "He already thinks I'd be an 'asset' to the CEC. If he finds out about this, that'll cement it." Neither wanted to antagonize the man.
Isaac responded with a polite nod. "I wouldn't think of it."
Curtis still sputtered the last of the methanol out of his lungs as they rounded the hall's first corner. It was a simple maneuver; one he'd performed thousands of times. Never before had his entrance been met by a volley of gunfire, though! Bullets pinged off the bulkhead to his right, sparking from the friction and making him jump back.
"Wait! Sorry about that," a thin, strained voice called. "I thought you were…" Hammond didn't finish as they walked up to him. Not that he could, for he looked horrendous. He slumped against another small greenhouse, gasping like a fish while his eyes bulged out. The cards were always stacked against him, not having a heavy-duty RIG like him and Isaac. Now he'd been dealt a particularly bad hand.
"Good to see you all in one piece. Don't… take off your helmets; the air's rotten." He turned to Nicole and cracked a small smile. "Though I suppose you don't have to worry about that." Despite just expressing her distrust for the man (which was reasonable), concern for his health stirred in her gut. The feeling was mutual.
"Hammond, I'm going to stand you up, OK?" she asked. "The gasses affecting you are heavier than air. If you're standing, you won't inhale as much." Though her voice was foggy and torn, the intonation was one reserved for children and people who were very confused; that was appropriate with his soupy eyes. He grunted his assent, so she heaved him up and away from the bulk of the septic vapors. Rattling and coughing for a second, the man nevertheless mended, growing more lucid. It's a temporary fix. He needs to leave ASAP.
"I saw it through a window. It's huge," he gasped, reminding him of an ancient sailor extolling tall tales. "You won't believe it. It's sealed in Food Storage, secreting that venom." Curtis was stumped by the whole affair. He couldn't fathom the Marker's enormity, but he grasped some of its characteristics, and one of them was frugality. With the Leviathan's biomass, it could have doubled the number of Necromorphs aboard, created a new army!
Instead, it decided a circumspect scheme to poison the air via an undead bioweapon stood a better chance of annihilating them than a thousand more beings with knives for hands or that belched acid. No. Not them. Much as he wanted to pass the buck, this wasn't about anyone else. The gasses wouldn't hurt Nicole. Isaac, Hammond and Kendra were still relative newcomers. Mercer and Kyne were within the Marker's thrall.
It wanted him. Him, chosen by the Black Marker, the one who somehow survived everything thrown at him for 15 hellish hours. Maybe he couldn't beat the obelisk, but he'd burrowed into its mind. It was enraged and getting sloppy – the pounding and screaming in his brain proved that (though, again, Nicole's psychic safeguards lessened that torment). He only foolishly hoped it didn't target anyone else in its vendetta to destroy him.
I WAS RIGHT TO CHOOSE YOU.
Curtis agreed for once. How many people could irk a god? He hoped the thorn in its stony side got infected and it died in horrible agony.
"The crew on this deck are helping it to poison the air, I think," Hammond continued, breathing a little easier now. "Saw one of them. They're bloated, swollen, ugly. That's… par for the course, though. We need to take them out while we can still breathe!" He held his Pulse Rifle aloft for a moment, trying to maintain a stolid expression, but the gas took its toll. He turned sallow from the exertion, and his arm flopped to his side again. For the first time, he looked humiliated and defeated. Curtis knew what that felt like.
Just then, a gout of static appeared on the man's chest. Kendra's entrances were so perpetually dramatic they hardly fazed Curtis anymore.
"Hammond! I thought you were dead," she croaked. "You need to get to cleaner air; you're not going to help them in your condition." Her voice and eyes dripped with concern across the hazy veil. "I'm scanning the area now. He's right, there's something really big in Food Storage, but I can't get a good scan, and all the cameras in there have been overgrown. Be careful." A fizzle on the screen, and she was gone. That left them with the frustrated, impotent figure.
"I know you hate this," Isaac said, "but you can't help in your condition, man… sir. Get somewhere else; the path we've left is clear." This was a man, a soldier, who was constantly powerless to help those under his command. Their goals and morality differed, and Curtis didn't fully trust anyone associated with the military (or the CEC, but that included them all, so he let that slide), but they were on the same team… until off the ship. Hell, the fact he listened to his underlings proved him a better commander than most so-called "leaders" he'd served with. That was a characteristic which crossed professions.
Hammond was about to object, but the act of inhaling brought another coughing fit, and Nicole steadied him. Wordlessly, he limped past them, unable and unwilling to admit defeat while using his rifle as a cane.
Sadness and dread hung in the heavens as they entered the next chamber. The room – the whole ship, really, but this place in particular – was saturated with anguish, like scents which lingered in a restaurant long after everyone had gone. Who knew whether that was him being upset or if sensing auras was somehow one of his newfound abilities? He didn't know why he felt this, though, for nothing stood out about the place.
It was a small, dark, industrial room. Literally thousands of them around. The only thing that made this one special was a small computer console in the center and dozens of primitive fans around, ready to slice an arm off if activated. Normal doors stood on either side, while the one before them looked like an airlock, and it was set in an alcove. Metal bars reinforced the door, which was sealed tight. Something told Curtis that was where they needed to go, for it could never be as simple as opening a door. There was always some chicanery or bullshit to wade through first.
"That's the door to Food Storage," Kendra commented on the peculiar threshold. "It's locked down tight because of all the poison; the AI doesn't want toxins getting into the rations, even though it's already in there." She sighed at the stupidity of machines, which must have been depressing as a programmer. "Killing the things Hammond mentioned might crack it." He mentally asked Nicole whether she could crawl through the vents and open it from the other end, only to be met with fantasies of blades liquefying her or falling into a nutrient vat. Point taken!
"Do you know where they are?" Curtis asked. The thought of killing monsters dulled his dread.
"I can find out," she replied. "If I map where methanol concentrations are highest, then I should be able to discern the number and location of sources…" Some soft clacking came from her end. Though most keyboards used holographic interfaces, some people adjusted them to produce the typing sounds of old. More "authentic". "Got it! I'm uploading the locations to your and Isaac's RIGs. They'll be on your maps."
He pulled his own up to check, nearly fainting from the sight of the perilous labyrinth. He complained about other decks being confusing to navigate, yet this seemed a parody of his complaints. Though Kendra was a bitch at times, they'd be screwed without her. Even Nicole's Necromorph-sensing abilities would be fruitless. Knowing the direction of their prey meant nothing if they lacked a route.
Eight orange dots pulsated in the maze of grow chambers, storage areas and access tunnels across myriad subdecks. There were four on each side of them; this room was a major junction for the rest of the deck. The tiny words above marked it as "Atmospheric Processing".
"One more thing," she added, her voice hoarse. "Curtis, Nicole… thank you. Without you, Hammond would be vomiting blood right about now. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I was wrong about you two. I'm sorry." Better late than never. Really, he appreciated the words, as did Nicole. Her forgiveness meant much more, as she received the brunt of Kendra's insults.
"I speak for both of us when I say we forgive you." Her face lit up, a beacon in dark waters. "How are the shuttle repairs going?" he added. In a race against time, they all needed to know who was winning.
"Surprisingly well, all things considered," she remarked, getting back to work the moment he asked. "The software is running fine. The fuel tanks are full, and I've scavenged most of the hardware Isaac requested." He wanted to ask how. Again, she always seemed to know far more than she let on. He shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Her being competent was good. "Anyway, there's one thing I haven't been able to get my hands on – a shockpoint drive."
Damn it. Isaac sighed at the news. That was the linchpin! Flying a ship without one was like trying to drive a car without an engine. They could technically return without one, but it would take several thousand years! "There have to be back-ups onboard."
"There are, but they're wholly incompatible. You can't load an ADS shell into a Divet." Made too much sense. There was no way a Planet Cracker's parts would work if attached to something a thousandth the size!
Without one, the two saw a few options, which they put their heads together to sort at twice the speed. Firstly, they could just bail and fly out of the Marker's range. The military should arrive soon to pick them up. What would happen to them was anyone's guess, but he doubted it would be pleasant. Maybe he would walk out of custody after several months of interrogation and testing, though he doubted it. Nicole would never see the light of day again. That was a last resort.
Otherwise, they could try to skim the wreckage around Aegis VII for one. Several spacecraft were blown up by the Ishimura during Mathius' no-fly order when the colony's infection started. Though unlikely, it was possible one of the hulks had something which could be salvaged. The shuttles Mercer scuttled might also be out there, though most had probably already been obliterated by debris or sucked into the planet.
Finally, they could search the colony itself. It'd still be infested with Necromorphs, and was that what he wanted to deal with? It would actually be far worse than up here. He didn't know the colony's population, but Nicole estimated it was several times that of the Ishimura. What eldritch horrors were born from the smorgasbord of biomass, writhing under the dusty clouds in crimson light?
No choice promised success, but they were all his limited mind could foresee. Nicole, a far smarter person than him, was also stumped. Energetic ideas bubbled to the surface of her mind, were examined and sank again as in "tectonic subduction". He didn't even know what that was!
"Well, I'll leave you to it," Kendra muttered. "I'm also sorry I can't do more. I mean, I'm doing what I can, but nothing like you."
"Don't feel bad," he replied. "If you weren't fixing that shuttle now, it'd take hours later. And now we know what we're up against in another sense."
She smiled one last time and killed the feed. That left the three of them… or perhaps two and a half. Isaac didn't look all there, wobbling slightly. He hadn't ever since they departed the tram. He was morose, sluggish and heavy on his feet. Really did act like a sick person, and it probably wasn't the transfusion.
"Isaac?"
"Huh?" His head drifted, only lethargically coming around to face them. "What?" Nicole was also concerned, and her worry mattered far more.
"We're going now," she said. I think the hallucinations are getting to him. Curtis' heart sank. He should have suspected such, but he didn't want to consider the possibility. More importantly, he began to forget what the Marker's hellish world was like. Nicole spoiled him by suppressing the worst of his madness. It still affected him, yet the visions diluted themselves while they were together like watered-down alcohol. Isaac had no such safeguard. "Nicole" would eat him alive.
She had to make a terrible choice. Everyone knew they needed to split up. With the rate the toxic gasses rose, travelling together would make them suffocate before they reached the end. Looking between the two of them, she sighed, and he felt her mind was already made up…
15 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak
Nicole and Curtis clunk down the hallway. More of a catwalk, actually. The apertured floor exposed several subdecks in both directions. A kaleidoscope, the surroundings shifted with each step, revealing new faces. Her siblings followed above and below, pressing their faces to the floor and ceiling while screaming curses. Only Curtis kept her from collapsing and letting them tear her apart. She wanted to die again.
Nicole reminded herself of their task for a pittance of a distraction. They were to eliminate the four poison pumping Necromorphs in and around the West Grow Chamber. Isaac roamed the East to cull his lot.
East? West? The naming convention shouldn't have been an issue, but the asininity of dubbing things in space with cardinal directions astounded her. Bemusement hardly shook the real problem away, the thing she should have focused on. Did I make the right choice?
It was an impossible decision; both Curtis and Isaac had been instrumental in her life (and beyond). She chose Curtis because Isaac had the boon of time on his side. Hadn't been there too long, all things considered. She also remembered what he said about "forgetting" her. Her presence might exacerbate that condition.
If only Elizabeth were here! She'd go with Isaac and – Nicole wrenched herself away before the thoughts consumed her. Down that way led an even greater insanity than the Red God's brand. Speaking of insanity, the screaming around her threatened to drive her mad.
You bitch! We're going to kill you! one shrieked.
How dare you revoke your creator?! You have no right! continued another. No matter where her vision roved, her siblings screamed and spat literal and metaphorical venom. The two cleared their own catwalk of Necromorphs, but the adjacent ones, segregated by space and surprisingly sturdy barriers, were still hives of hatred.
I hope you get syphilis from your human mate! You come from an exalted caste; romance is not our way, but you'd deserve someone better if it was. Someone like me! That one was actually amusing, so she let Curtis hear it. Like a supernova, mirth temporarily overwhelmed the hatred and negativity pressing down on them from every angle. But really?! She was fucking deceased and still got hit on by Necromorphs. A lot less, at least, but some people were so horny their libido survived death.
And now they knew the two were "involved". The Red God fed her kin this knowledge to make them hate her even more for such abominable actions. It was another example of humans and Necromorphs perhaps not being so different, after all. Both would have strong reactions to this. "Miscegenation" always made tempers flare.
With the rattling bars and angry, shouting faces, it felt like they were jail guards being yelled at by inmates. These prisoners, though, were her brothers and sisters. After what seemed like forever, Curtis navigated to a door. The sides of this room were solid, though that didn't prevent hatred from leaking through the walls. She internally sighed, glad to be away from one half of the issue.
It looks like we're below the grow chamber, he commented, pointing to the plumbing around them. The space was packed with pipes, and the sound of gurgling water quelled the pain somewhat. Even between the biological landscape and rugged metal crags, the simple sound of a flowing stream seemed as wondrous as either. If only Isaac was there with them…
I know about guilt and doubt, Curtis assured her. She felt bad about having him play therapist. Both of them were broken people, longing to be made whole. It might sound like a bad excuse, but there's nothing we can do now. It's done. Sounded like BS, but he had more experience in the realm of mental stress than her. And don't worry about leaning on me. You've done so much, Nicole. I'd like to help you… though I don't know if I can.
You can, she thought, putting a mangled hand on his arm. I know it.
She felt him blush under the helm. A burst of self-consciousness shot from him, and he quickly changed the subject.
Can plants become Necromorphs? I've meant to ask that since we got here. He suddenly twitched. His fear made sense. If undead humans were intimidating, how much more something barely alive to begin with?
I think so. Plants have cell walls, but that shouldn't stop them from being infected. There were other factors that might make a difference, but she hadn't dissected a plant in years. Not her specialty. Still, what's grown on Hydroponics are fruits and vegetables in nutrient baths and hanging gardens. Not hardy enough to make it as Necromorphs. They'll probably be integrated into the Corruption. If there were trees, it'd be different.
The Leviathan is another story, she added, using the name Elizabeth had given it. Seemed only right that they honor her in some small way. I've been thinking about it. Something so big isn't purely human. Not enough to account for the mass. And with it in Food Storage, the answer seems obvious to me.
Curtis shuddered as he grasped her hypothesis – that the Leviathan was an amorphous amalgam of plant and animal tissue from the Ishimura's stock. It was common for vessels to grow a surplus crop for emergencies. How ironic that the food became the fucking emergency. Just something to think about as they travailed the protruding plumbing.
A twinge of poison brushed her nostrils, so she sniffed the air and shoved such conversation aside. Time quickly ran out. Another hour and this place would smell like a moonshine still, with far more deadly contents. To humans, at least. All it did for her was reek. Let's go.
Not much later, they looped around onto a catwalk leading over the pit they just traversed. It ended at the door to the grow chamber. What's next? Curtis asked. For most, the question would have been purely rhetorical. However, she was able to pinpoint other Necromorphs by "listening" for their minds like a bat using echolocation. The possibilities of a hive mind never ceased to amaze her.
Clearing her mind, Nicole reached beyond the door like she crept through a room of sleeping people. She needed to detect them without making them aware of her presence. There was a lot of biomass behind the door, though the number of minds didn't match. That supported her hypothesis of dead plants being assimilated into supplementary positions. Between the array of placid minds and the map Curtis projected, she niftily wove her own geography by marking enemy with light claw taps.
That was really cool. Curtis mentally beamed, still in awe of her abilities. It was cute how excitable he could be. This was it. This was as ready as they'd ever be. Curtis put his hand on the door, which silently slid open.
Not as intimidating as she expected. Pools of stagnant water collected in the dented ground, which hindered Corruption growth. Together with the plentiful vines and canned monkey sounds played on a loop (which sounded like the Gorillanauts ululating at each other), it created a striking contrast between "nature" and the artificial world. This was a swamp if she'd ever been in one… which she hadn't. Actually, there were some places on Kreemar that had marshes, though those seemed mundane compared to this meat garden.
Where's that Corruption I… oh. Her question was answered once she looked at the walls. The world waggled its pseudopods at her, almost completely consumed by the angry material, which screamed bloody murder at her as always. Still, there were some barren spots where liquid trickled from broken sprinklers: waterfalls in the collagen jungle. There were no enemies. Not yet, a fact Curtis began to ponder.
We have to fight sooner or later, he thought. Conflict is inevitable. Want to wait until later or start things now? I think we should just get it over with. He sent her a mental image of firing the Line Gun into the air to get attention.
Nicole agreed. Their environment offered many benefits for their hit-and-run style of combat: a large area with lots of cover, good lighting and multiple escape routes. It was a fantastic environment for her. Nice place to be a Sta –
What was that? she wondered, though the question was directed inward rather than to Curtis. It wasn't much, merely a quick splash in a distant pool. At first, she thought she overreacted. They'd made that Necromorph map, and none were particular close. Probably her imagination. Despite her level head, she could be thrown off like anyone else, and the constant berating she received might make her system sluggish.
Splash! No mistaking it this time, and Curtis drew his gun while they surveyed the jungle. The room was livelier than any she'd been in since resurrection, but thick foliage and scaffolding obstructed her vision. Whatever they faced must have been nearly as fast as her to break away from where they'd been. The choice had been made for them.
"Never a dull moment," Curtis muttered as he flicked off the safety, which made her expel a braying guffaw. It sounded like a rusty chainsaw chewing off someone's leg. She felt him mentally cringe at the noise.
Eh, not everything about me can be as sexy as my smoking body, she sarcastically thought, catching brief glimpses of flitting shapes through the vines. Barks, chirps, growls and yaps, though some might have been from the looped audio. They seemed… familiar, though, stimulating something primal in her own mind: the thrill of the hunt.
She caught herself howling in response as they circled the duo like sharks, feeling their meanings in her marrow. Each call evoked a different command: wait, advance, slow. It was more advanced than the mentalities of most Necromorphs, who retained one rudimentary killer instinct and acted upon it the second something alive entered their perception. It also freaked Curtis the fuck out. Fear spiked in his cortex, and she swiftly moved to calm him down even as the adrenaline tasted of sweet brandy. Their foes prepared themselves. All the while, thoughts shifted in her mind, moving back and forth like conveyor belts.
Splashing. Roars. Hunt. Kill. Hunt. Kill. Hunt. Kill. HUNT. KILL.
Nicole, he thought, unsure what happened to her. It felt so good, like scratching a dog behind the ears. It came naturally, unlike everything she'd forced herself to do of late – to play nice with a human and embrace the trappings of civilization when her soul, if such existed, called her to spread the Red God's gospel: Convergence. Part of her realized this was wrong, but everything else was even worse.
Nicole, don't lose yourself, Curtis said, trying to steady her quivering form. You're stronger than the Marker. Don't let it take who you are!
You… took who I am, she slurred, suddenly gaining perspective. The world turned red while her kin monolithically clattered and clacked. She no longer knew what she said, only that it felt right – to someone. But she somehow knew he took everything from her: culture, family, reason to exist. He was the reason she couldn't be happy. He ruined her! I'm going to return the favor! With a screech, she drunkenly lunged at him.
"This isn't you, Nicole!" he pleaded while dodging her claws. She let him, of course. Better to draw out his suffering, for this was the only shot at vengeance she'd receive! Crimson splotches formed in her vision as other minds moved in, and she spoke with a thousand voices.
Not… my name. I don't have a name. Monikers meant individuality. Yes, they possessed some semblance of self, but it always came second to group needs. Only when all was said and done could they pursue individual interests… and even those would be mercifully wiped away by Convergence.
The miner pulled back while priming his weapon. Didn't scare her. Indeed, the threat kindled bloodlust in her stomach; she couldn't wait to tear him limb from limb, watching his life be reclaimed by the ground while he screamed. She growled, clawing the loamy ground with her feet. Her brothers and sisters hung back and waited for her to strike the killing blow. For once, the animate terrain praised her. Why did she give this up?! Positive energy flowed into her, a mere taste of what could be hers again.
KILL HIM AND YOU WILL BE FORGIVEN; I AM A MERCIFUL GOD.
He fumbled with the Line Gun, drawing it, aiming it… tossing it aside. His nerve broke, and he needed to brace himself to stand. She vaguely remembered the time he attacked her when under the Red God's thrall. How vicious and merciless he was, and how she only reluctantly reciprocated. She was absolutely pathetic back then. How much more was this creature?! He wasn't even strong enough to defend himself. How did she fall in line behind such a coward, one who nearly wept? She lowered herself to surgery to keep this sack of flesh and shit animate.
Pick up your weapon. Opening her mouth, she flared her mandibles to intimidate him. Gutting a whimpering coward wouldn't satisfy her. She wanted him to go down screaming.
"Nicole, I'm not going to fight you!" he shouted, head snapping about as the pack careened closer. "You're my friend. You've saved my life! I don't want to die, but I can't hurt you again!" He was about to say something else, but that was promptly halted when her skull impacted his sternum, knocking him into and through an arboretum.
Get up. She wrapped her claws around his neck and hurled him through the opposite end. He ragdolled when he hit the ground. Glass shards sliced her feet, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except him. She supposed that was always true; practically since her conception, she leaned on him. Was her own family not good enough?! Breaking his spine would mend relations. He didn't acknowledge the pummeling he received, merely groaning. Her siblings cheered as she gingerly rooted a foot on his chest, now orange with pumpkin juice.
Get. Up. There wasn't much of a threat she could tack on; "or I'll kill you" meant nothing because the reaper came for him regardless. He hacked for a second before reclining on his elbows. Close enough.
"You're the strongest… person… I know." Oh, he wanted to deliver a final monologue, get his last words on record. Very well. She'd love to hear him beg, so she removed her pronged extremity for him to speak easier, and he scrambled onto his ass.
"I know you won't do this. I've seen your past. Your life has been just as bad and hard as mine. But you've seen that, too." Indeed, he'd glimpsed her life, and she, his. Not comprehensive, yet such a connection was a cornerstone of their psychic eusociality. They were Bound. At the time, she treasured the memories they'd shared. It nearly normalized such a relationship.
Relationship. The word made her spit. A link between a human and a Necromorph in itself was obscene. What it signified was both sacrilegious and monstrous. She couldn't believe she used to love him! That was akin to a human fucking a dog. The Red God was indeed merciful to pardon such a grievous sin.
"We're a lot alike – you just had money when I didn't." That nearly made her stomp clean through his head like he was so fond of doing. He was nearly in tears, pouring his heart out to her, as if his crocodile sobs would budge her cold, dead heart. In actuality, something stirred within her. It felt like a cloud of bloating gas from her decaying innards.
"And I know you now, the woman who's dedicated her life to saving people. I envy that because it's so much more important than anything I've ever done. It's who you are." He sighed. "Maybe I've pressed you too hard to be 'human', whatever that means, and I'm sorry if I have. But the Marker isn't going to make you whole. It can't make you better. Being with others isn't the same as a connection. It's taken me too long to figure that out. Just because you share a link with someone doesn't mean they're your family!"
His voice cracked, and he went silent. The others chanted for her to make the kill. It should have been easy; his words were nothing but lies. Why, then, did they tear at the fabric of something deep within her? Why did they pluck at her soul, if indeed she had one? Everything she wanted was being given to her. That was the problem. The Red God claimed it could make her whole. She didn't believe that. The man shivering on the ground gave her more than her "father" ever did.
The air in her earholes bombinated, as if she was trapped in a microwave. A moment of calm… Then every atom, molecule and cell within her ripped itself apart. That's what it felt like, anyway. She saw stars, and it wasn't until seconds later that she realized she writhed along the ground, screaming. The pain was indescribable, so intense to the point of nearly being comedic. Her fractured mind tried to search for a suitable simile. Like being dunked in acid, eaten by rats and chopped with a blunt machete at once.
THAT WAS YOUR FINAL CHANCE! FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME, WE WILL SCORN YOU FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS! I CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT PUNISHMENT MY MASTERS IN THEIR CAGES OF SLEEP WILL DREAM OF FOR YOU! MY CHILD, YOU ARE NOT!
Nicole vaulted up, and the pain, terror and suffering from within and without were temporarily smothered by satisfaction of throwing off the Red God's yoke and reclaiming her mind. Its "masters" would punish her, huh? Magnified by the hesitation she tasted in its words, it dawned on her.
It feared it would lose. For all its swagger and bravado, beings of flesh trounced it at every turn. Frustration became concern became anxiety as the hourglass emptied. Of course, that fear made the Red God a caged animal, fighting tooth and nail for any chance of survival. In that respect, at least, it resembled her and Curtis greatly.
Curtis! Her head pirouetted as it had during her brief ballerina days as a small child. She saw him, clumsily hauling himself up. More importantly, she saw them.
Stalkers.
For a split second, she thought her four eyes deceived her. When one of them locked gazes with her, though, she knew it was all too real. Well, she always accepted she'd run into more of them. She just didn't expect it to be so visceral. One snapped her mouth. She stared into a mirror. Other Necromorphs may have been her siblings, but these were her twins! The family reunion got even more interesting once one of them charged at Curtis.
He sidestepped, nearly slipping in a puddle but anchoring himself at the last second. Nicole already sprinted for the discarded Line Gun, which lay atop a mound of soil. One of her kin zoomed past, nearly nicking her, but she was fast enough to avoid being tagged. No, not her kin. Like Curtis said, they didn't have to be her family if she didn't want them to be. The Red God already disowned her. Whether she desired the same…
Curtis! Catch! She heaved the weapon through the air, and he caught it without looking. A second was all it took to be back in the game. The circle temporarily broke, but it bore down moments later. A cascade of flesh, claws and screeches jostled toward them. There wasn't time enough to process anything. Both fell into their roles like clockwork. Like machines.
Stalkers normally attacked one at a time, but they were formidable enough that acting as shock troopers might prove more efficient. That explained the onslaught of about 10 forms crashing into them.
She dodged the hail of claws, amputating arms and legs with abandon but stopping short of anything "fatal". If there was one scrap of dignity she still clung to, it was that. She may not have accepted them as being relations, but she still didn't want blood on her hands. Poisoned air churned with screeches, squelches and occasional severed limbs that flew through the vines. Numbers hardly mattered. None of them could match her and Curtis' experience on the front lines. With a combination of slashes and shots, the last head rolled away, mouth still twitching. For a moment, the only sound was that of the ever-looped recording. She almost hoped it would stay that way.
"Hey," Curtis said from behind. She hunched her shoulders, unable to look at him. How could she when she came within an inch of murdering him? Only his thoughtful words broke through her trance. Shame greater than any she'd ever known strangled her. She wasn't worthy of his attention, let alone affection. "I know this might – "
Psychic spikes split the air, making her whirl around. They missed one, and it now pinned him to the ground, slashing and screaming while he barely held it at bay.
Though her legs were thin and lithe, they concealed great power. More, in fact, than she herself realized. The sight of his impending death made her desperately rocket forward. The patches of flesh on her face flapped back like someone sticking their head out a car window. Ringing in her head made it sound like she'd gone supersonic. The knives came down right as her cranium impacted her brother's torso. They flew 15 feet across the room before rolling even farther, but Nicole didn't fight it. Her opponent was already gone.
Curtis clanked closer as her eyes fell upon what remained of her (possible) brother – a split, hollow torso and gangly legs with bowels strewn out. Everything above the peritoneum had been deliquesced into rivulets and pebbles of gore by the force of her skull.
She killed one. How convenient she disavowed her former family. Now it wasn't fratricide. Shivering, she remained on the floor as Curtis rushed over. She just shook. He sat next to her. The next minute was spent mostly moaning in shame, though even addled and guilty, she remembered their mission. Eventually, she worked up the courage to look him… well, not in the eye, but the facial area. He was happy for it, she knew.
Really, she couldn't believe her luck finding him. Without his encouragement, she never would have been a person again. Never would have found love again. And she did love him, she decided (though she tried to keep that notion private). Nobody else could have done the amazing things he did. He sacrificed everything to help people – help her – and had such faith in her that he was willing to die to prove it. That gave her the courage to finally "speak".
I'm sorry, Curtis. Her head slumped as she got to her feet, feeling completely worthless before the man. He thought differently, but that didn't matter. She knew what she did was unforgivable.
I did the same thing to you, he replied. Which time? Yeah, they tangled before, but things were supposed to be different now. She wasn't strong enough to stop. He had to rip her mind free from its prison. That reminded her of something.
It's what you said to you free me from that trance. You didn't say you loved me or try to plant a kiss on me. It wouldn't have worked, and he'd be dead. It also showed his unshakeable trust in her. Might've been a pointless thing to dwell on, but that's what she kept returning to.
Satisfaction flowed from him to her, though she also felt the fear he desperately tried to hide. Amazing that they still lied to each other. You give me credit for saying those things, but you should give yourself some for listening.
She sniffed the air again, taking in scents of flowers and blood. Blood that was partially on her hands now. Even to save him, she had still taken a life. It might not be the last. With that, they moved on, standing a little farther apart than before. The good news was that she couldn't detect anything else for a long way as they plodded along. Their first stop was a generic office, home to an orange blip.
The landscape, for land it was, became hypnagogic. The Corruption here was bulbous and distended, like it had been soaked in vinegar. The insults rolled in, but they rang duller and hollower than usual. Her guess was that the fumes stunted its development in some way. Speaking of which, those was the main source of surreality.
Methanol itself was colorless, but a cocktail of other compounds added to the effluvium. She couldn't begin to guess what, but the result was a brown-green cloud, smelling of alcohol, excrement and asparagus. Particles of shit floated around and clung to her skin – the inside of a latrine and a toxic waste dump combined. Ugh. She'd hose herself off after this.
Another mind entered her sphere of influence, as did a stuttering wheeze. Their schtick for such a situation was well rehearsed by now. Both pressed themselves against the wall, which suckled at them, and they peered around the corner.
The entity was the size of a regular human and curved into the fetal position. In fact, his vestigial limbs seemed webbed together like a cocoon, but he was otherwise very hominid. She even discerned a tattoo of the Black Marker on his neck, a sign of former religious affiliation. The only major mutations were the lungs. They assimilated all the organs within, for each of them was the size of his torso. Chemical reactions seethed within as they expanded and contracted, for the air heated and cooled with each shrill wheeze: endothermic and exothermic reactions burbled onward, converting air to poison. Clouds of gas billowed from his mouth.
Nicole and Curtis discarded stealth when it became apparent the most harm he could inflict was breathe at them. His head weakly swiveled toward them, revealing empty eye sockets.
End me, if you must. It will not stop "Leviathan".
No, she countered as Curtis walked up, cracking his knuckles. No point wasting precious power cells on something stagnant. We will.
I am truly sorry you cannot tolerate reality, he replied. The sorrow was unrequited. It is not your fault you are defective, and –
His words were put to an abrupt end as Curtis' boot smashed his head open like a moldy melon. Shards of skull and residual bits of brain squirmed independently for a moment before their connection with the Red God was extinguished.
Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, they carried on. She wanted to talk with him, but neither had anything to say after Curtis' heartfelt speech. She knew he still feared her (and that was good, for only a crazy person could look upon her without some level of instinctual dread).
The second Wheezer (so fucking clever) was very close, and they reached it without the usual difficulty. It took everything they had and more to travail the perilous to Number 1, but Number 2 was like visiting a next-door neighbor. Not that she complained. Literally a minute later and two rooms down, another of her kin was sent home by a fist through its air sacks.
Curtis ran low on oxygen, she knew, so the duo navigated to a less hostile place before he pulled up the map again. The other pair of Wheezers was in the opposite end of their wing, in a land of fire and smoke.
Air Filtration.
15 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak
Curtis and Nicole plodded through the hall. Nice and cheery, with only a few parts of the wall trying to restrain him. Normally, the entire floor attempted to swallow him up, but standing water prevented that. How abso-fucking-lutely lucky he was. This might've been rock-bottom. He'd have to fall through the floor to go any lower. Never in his life had he felt such a tumultuous and horrible cauldron of emotion.
She tried to kill him. Then he forced her to kill her "brother". He burned inside, and he couldn't even take off his helmet to gasp for breath with the toxic fumes swirling around. Though he tried to present an amiable side, the simple truth was that he didn't know if he could trust her again. She terrified him. It was hypocritical to entertain the notion, considering he'd threatened her at times, but he wasn't a good person. Therefore, he wallowed in misery, and the hall seemed a walk of shame.
Nicole strode next to him, maintaining a respectful mental distance, hard as that was to comprehend. He was grateful that she respected his privacy, at least. She could've placated him with happy feelings like a cheap hit of uppers, but they agreed that was a bad idea; she didn't feel much better. Blissfully ignoring their problems was at best lying to each other and at worst a death sentence. Even with a damn psychic connection, they still had trouble talking.
"Do you want to talk about anything?" she finally asked. Nice to hear something that wasn't a voice chewing his mind like a cow munched cud.
"No, I don't," he replied. His voice cracked down the middle like a veiny asteroid. "What is there to?" Their issue was communication, yet it couldn't be solved with articulate thoughts or clever utterances. He was no psychologist, but he believed they approached their relationship the wrong way. "We've been so focused on talking. Maybe it's time we listened." It worked so far; Nicole was able to overcome the Marker by focusing on his words. And frankly, he barely had the energy to speak either with voice or mind.
Nicole pondered the idea. He could have glimpsed her mind's interior, but he didn't. Connecting with others came naturally to her, but such a link could be dangerous, as the events of the previous room proved. It was like peer pressure dialed up to 11. She could have fallen back into the hive mind, which constantly riled itself into a communal frenzy. Then again, isolation was equally dangerous for him, allowing the Marker to infect his mind with its hatred. His and Nicole's natural states were anathema for both.
The air heated as they travelled, which Curtis welcomed. This detail was the cherry on top of a gory, rapidly melting sundae. The descent into Hell conspicuously lacked incalescence. Sure, there had been individual fires aplenty, but no towering inferno. Their destination would change all that. He'd stuck to Nicole's "more fluids" suggestion when he could, slurping bottles of water, tea and so on (and not soda) while holding his breath. It paid off, because getting heatstroke was a serious threat with these temperatures.
A red glow jigged on the walls and ceiling of the room they entered, and he glanced at the chemical burns arcing up Nicole's torso and arms from the Brute. They didn't bother her at all. In fact, he knew she considered them badass inasmuch as that mattered to her. This place might give her more.
The air filtration system loomed large before them. It looked like a collection of gigantic lit cigars, for flames licked at one end before blasting to the other as if from a dragon's maw. The system worked, he knew, by funneling plasmatic flame from the fusion engines and blasting it into the fresh atmosphere the vegetation produced. It incinerated pollen and biohazards. With patches of scorched Corruption, it reminded him of a game called Dante's Inferno he'd played a while back. Decent overall, but apparently right on the money in its depiction of Hades.
"Warning: air filtration system active, though intake has been blocked. Entering the filtration tubes is extremely hazardous," the AI proclaimed. Far more cogent than usual.
Well, maybe we could clear it. Would that do anything? he mused, really not having the slightest clue how this worked.
Bad idea, Nicole replied, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. The same air in those tubes is being burned again and again.
So? he asked, staring at gouts of dancing flame.
A funny thing about methanol – it's highly flammable. Oh. That might be an issue. Those pipes would blow sky-high if they brought new air in. Maybe that'd be OK, but he didn't want to cause anymore explosions unless absolutely necessary.
What should we do? She hesitated before answering.
I'm… not sure. Maybe we should ask Isaac. He's worked on these kinds of things before, I'm sure. Yeah. That was a good idea. It'd be smart to check in with him if nothing else, with his odd behavior earlier. Still, it was a moot point until they reached the control panel, which he spied on the opposing catwalk. The one on this side was thoroughly pummeled by a caved-in ceiling… as was the footway linking the two halves. The only way forward was through the filtration system itself.
Our luck sucks, doesn't it? he mused.
It's pretty bad. He expected it to be followed by "but at least we have each other" or some similar chestnut, yet none came. Honestly, he appreciated that. It didn't have to be said.
They descended rickety steps to the floor, which was littered with junk: mechanical components, "recycled" fertilizer for the greenhouses and an overturned trashcan were the first things to catch his eye. It was a mystery how this crap (literally, in the compost's case) ended up here. Maybe people too lazy to move it to the airlocks for dumping just burned it. Regardless, it made the scene feel even more like a dumping ground for the hopeless and forgotten. These things existed only for the fire that would soon consume them.
They crept to the kiln, putting their heads together and trying not to go blind from strobes of light; easier for him, as his suit filtered photons it deemed excessive. The RIG could handle a little fire of this temperature. Well, he didn't exactly know how hot this stuff was, but it was auburn instead of neon blue, so not the hottest it could get. A direct blast, though… At least he wouldn't become a Necromorph.
The more Curtis stared, the more doable it appeared. Three furnaces were placed next to each other with doorways linking them. They burned in a pattern: middle, closest, farthest. A musical chord played with brimstone. As long as they kept their footing and didn't hesitate, he believed they could make it across without being reduced to cinders.
"I'll go first," Nicole offered. She was much nimbler than him, so seeing her master this deadly race might improve his chances.
The sight of her weaving through the blazes lasted a precious few seconds, but he knew the memory would stay with him forever. Just about everything in the past day would stick in the cracks of his brain, down to the most blasé conversations. Still, watching her whirl through the devouring inferno ranked among the highlights. She ran with such grace and deftness. He envied her. Then she sprung onto the far platform and gave him a smile. Malocclusion be damned, she was beautiful.
I believe in you, she said. Well, he'd better listen to that. He backed up and briefly considered dropping into a pre-sprint stance like a racer. No, better to just run. Run. Run! The closest hearth finished its plasmatic song, and that's when he barreled forward.
Run. His mind snapped him back the second he was about to charge into the middle tube. Good thing, too; he saw his own skeleton smile at him from within the conflagration. That moment of pause saved him from being reduced to ash. Run! He transitioned into the middle chamber and did the same thing with the last. Then he found himself outside the gauntlet. Took less than three seconds. That wasn't so bad. Not with everything else; he'd take a machine trying to kill him over a monster.
Good job, she said, sarcastically clapping him on the back like a coach would a not-so-great athlete. You weren't quite as, um, dynamic as me, but you got through.
Then she pointed to the side, and he flinched when he saw the third Wheezer sucking up air. Those malformed creatures were nearly forgotten among fire and fury; he was almost happy to see them again. The malaise wasn't bad here with the incinerators three feet away burning its waste. Not very effective placement on the Marker's part.
Curtis could have simply squashed the thing like he had the others, but he had something a little more intense in mind to work off his anger. If that's OK with you, of course. He deferred to Nicole on this, for he didn't want to cause her undue distress with what he planned. She pondered the request before giving him the go-ahead.
As long as it's fast. Keeping that in mind, Curtis scooped up the thing. It struggled with the might of a sleepy caterpillar, and its flayed skin fractured more under his grasp. A gentle toss, and it sloshed around on the kiln's floor. It was the most pathetic Necromorph he had ever seen, and there were a couple of feeble ones. Dragon's breath ended it in a heartbeat. It puffed into noxious smoke that itself metamorphized as sparks. Like a magic trick, their problem had disappeared with a single action. He was pretty smug about that, but he didn't press the issue as they moved on.
The final Wheezer was in a cooling subsystem a few rooms back. Designed to keep the heat from overwhelming the deck, they found it pretty easily. It was frozen solid against the back wall. A single punch, and it shattered, leaving Curtis with an immense feeling of satisfaction. That took maybe another minute. Hot to cold to hot again, and the temperature oscillations made him dizzy as they came back to the control panel. Though the air quality hadn't changed, the place's "aura" (and he wasn't certain how accurate that term was) revised for the better. Not as much hatred around.
Curtis went ahead with their plan and keyed up his holo-projector. He found Isaac's RIG number and typed it in. After several unanswered rings, his stomach began to tie itself in knots. Nicole's apprehension leaked into his own mind. The ringing at last stopped, ending the call. His friend's head fell, and she expelled a long moan. In all likelihood, Isaac was dead. The notion glued his feet to the floor. All he could do was bask in her perfect sadness while debating whether to give her a hug.
"Uh, hello?"
The words redirected their attention to his RIG, which now crackled with the sounds of ponderous footsteps. Joy spiked in Nicole's mind – he must have picked up and not said anything. A long, hissing breath forced its way from Curtis' lungs.
"Isaac," he gasped, trying to contain his own relief. "You had us so worried." There was no response other than the monotonous footfalls. That confused him; the engineer wasn't the chattiest person around, but he said more than this! Nicole shared his doubts. Then again, maybe he was just tired. "Can you help us out with something?"
"What do you need?"
He left it to Nicole to describe the issue, for it went over his head. Instead, he hung back and listened. Isaac's answers were mostly monosyllabic: yes, no, maybe. On the rare instances she elicited a full sentence, it was slurred a little. Still, he seemed to be mentally sound, for he directed them just fine. A few button presses made sure the bad air seeped in slowly so the deck didn't go up in flames.
"All right. We'll see you soon, Isaac," Nicole said right before he hung up. As soon as he was off, her cognizance exploded. We need to get back to him!
…
Nicole's body was wracked with suspense as they sped back to Atmospheric Processing. Isaac, was all she could think, as well as the permutations of danger he might be in. Something was very wrong with him, probably related to the Red God. I should have gone with him! Curtis didn't try to reassure her, which. Words wouldn't help her, nor was she the one who needed help. Listening, not speaking.
Before too long, they were back in the room with the fans, which were now activated. They pumped pure air into Food Storage, courtesy of Isaac. He stood by the console, waiting for them with his helmet off. The blank expression lapsed into a small smile when he saw them, which heartened her a bit. Blades chopped the air, and she worried, no matter how outlandish the possibility, that one would fly off and go through his head.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asked, walking toward him. She wanted to run, but maybe he was paranoid! Didn't want to set him off. But he looked fine, and she lacked the knowledge to diagnose mental deficiencies. It would be better to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Yeah," he demurely replied, seeming lost in thought. Her tensed shoulders relaxed a bit, especially when he looked away. Perhaps she overreacted. "I feel fine." Their eyes met for a moment, and she plumbed them for every ounce of truth within. It was difficult discern their honesty; exhaustion took its toll, and they no longer burned with the same passion for her they used to. "Really."
I'll deal with this later, she thought. They still had a monster unlike any other to defeat, and concerning herself with mental health wasted precious time. "Are you ready to finish this?"
"Yes." On that, he was far more decisive.
Curtis reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out his necklace, the miniature Enigma mask and the canister of toxin. Obviously, only the last was of any important, so he stowed the other two. However, she could have sworn Isaac's eyebrow twitched when he spotted the mask… like Kendra. Hmm. He then shoved it into the air pump and set it direct for Food Storage. The contents would be pumped there, deadly enough to kill even an undead Leviathan.
"Un-un-unknown antigennnnnnn injected into ednpifwfjoystem," the AI said. Both her and Curtis were on edge as the machine whirred, imagining the venom snaking its way into mountains of flesh. Isaac was less engaged but still curious enough. They waited. Waited. Waited…
A low rumble started from rooms away. At first, Nicole thought it was another system failing, but the tones crescendoed into a deep, guttural roar, and a mind greater than any she'd touched sans the Red God's (and whatever lived beyond and above it) met hers: multifaceted and all-encompassing, it recoiled in agony. Agony… but not destruction. That realization hit Curtis, whose stomach dropped into his feet.
"Damn it!" Kendra said, ripping up from his chest. Her hair clung to her forehead with sweat. "The poison wasn't strong enough. That thing is still alive!" Nicole racked her brain for solutions but came up with nothing. Medical was too far away to whip up another dose. The only option seemed to be going in personally… which was exactly the plan.
"Get in there and kill it before it contaminates the entire ship!" If possible, she would have torn her way through the phantasmal screen to throttle them. "It's our only chance," she said, calming down the slightest bit. "I'm sorry it came to this."
"It's all right, Kendra," Isaac replied. "We all did our best." How Zen. Honestly, whatever happened to him, she almost envied it. She would face her end shaky and terrified while he seemed more or less at peace. Suddenly, she felt bad for thinking of his radical acceptance of the situation as something suspect. With a trembling hand, Curtis reversed the system and redirected the poison to the incinerators.
This was a suicide mission. Still, Nicole wouldn't have wanted to die any other way. Her chest fluttered as Curtis opened the airlock, and they found themselves staring down the tunnel leading to Food Storage. Red lights flickered on the ceiling, going out every few seconds. They illuminated thick Corruption on the outside of the transparent tube, which expanded and contracted every few seconds, doubtlessly pumping out more of the noxious bile.
They stepped inside, and she noted long cracks in the glass as they crept along. The molasses-slow thoughts of eternal decay emanated from all sides; they were inside the Leviathan's guts, mere cells in its bloodstream. That afforded them an element of surprise, at least, for it was still focused on the immense pain inflicted on it. It would be weaker, but even so, something of this scale would be the most brutal fight any of them ever faced.
A minute later, they reached a fork. One passage went left and one right, but both led to the correct chamber according to Curtis' map. They would again split up to cover more ground, but it seemed less cruel this time, for Isaac would still be close.
"I'll see you on the other side, Isaac," she whispered to him. The last she saw of his face was a hollow stare before it was consumed by the helm.
16 Hours Post-Outbreak
Curtis quivered in his fucking boots. Were it not for Nicole's equally shaky hand gripping his own, he would have fallen backward. Once away from Isaac, he had to risk getting more "intimate" so he didn't fall over. The only thoughts running through his head were ones of horrible, horrible death.
Rounding a corner, they found themselves at a small waystation and a passage to Food Storage, locked down as the serum was flushed away. Once it was, they would charge in and in all likelihood get slaughtered. Still, that was all they could do. Maybe they could buy enough time for Hammond and Kendra escape. His life would mean something if he helped even one person claw their way from this accursed tomb. He sighed, letting his hand droop from hers.
He'd known terror before. It became his constant companion over the past days, travelling with him both subconsciously and physically in the guises of the Shadow Man and fake Nicole. He slew demons real and imaginary, climbed mountains, forded valleys and faced challenges he never imagined in his wildest dreams.
Somehow, he'd survived it all. Many people would say that made him a hero, as if simple endurance was laudable. Others – Necromorphs – would call him the fiend for disrupting the only life they knew. However, he considered himself neither hero nor villain. He was merely a man who wanted to survive for reasons he didn't entirely understand. To save humanity? Why should he. They'd never done a damn thing for him. Himself? He was utterly expendable.
This was his darkest hour. There was never a guarantee he could make it from one end of a room to another without being mulched, speared or eaten. Standing there, he broached the precipice of utter destruction. More likely than not, he'd never make it out of Food Storage, but he had to try! That was the only way to heal his regrets and make up for his many, many failures.
Speaking of mistakes, his heart stopped when his gaze met Nicole's equally terrified visage. This might be his last chance to confess his feelings. They were pretty much out in the open, but they needed to be declared – for his own sake, at least.
He bit his lip before retracting his helmet, catching only the faintest whiff of alcohol once he did. Her four eyes met his two, glowing like opalescent pearls or tiny embers in their sockets. Her slender arms and legs twitched as if blown by a harsh breeze. Where most would perceive a monster, he saw a beautiful woman. Damn anyone who told him otherwise.
"N-Nicole, it's been an honor to travel with you and be your friend." He managed to keep the sentence glued together, but a single twinge would send the house of cards down, and he'd start blubbering. "You're such a good person! You're compassionate, smart; I've learned so much from you." Her face broke out in a bright smile, mandibles parting to reveal her crooked fangs.
With that gesture, his spirit collapsed, and he started bawling. He'd never considered himself eloquent before this trip, though his oratory skills had grown considerably if breaking mind control was any indication. Now, though, he struggled to find words and even syllables like a fish trying to flop back into the sea. He'd cried dozens of times in the previous hours, but never over love! It made him feel like a child.
"What I'm trying to say is that I love you," he sobbed. "I – I know it doesn't make sense, but when I look at you, I feel something nobody has ever given me before. You still kind of scare me, but I've never been closer with anyone in my life!" His own skull was silent; she processed the words while he cried.
Strong hands lifted him up, and a long claw gently wiped the tears from his eyes. Through the haze, he saw warmth, more than ever before.
"Curtis… I wish I had the daring to think of such praises for you." Her ragged voice was so quiet he nearly thought she spoke in his mind. "You're a good man with a good heart, and I've never met anyone so brave. The truth is that I scare myself more than I scare you. I've come so close to falling back into what I was. You're the only reason I'm still Nicole. You gave me my life back, Curtis. I love you, too."
"You've helped me straighten out, as well," he replied, wiping the snot from his nose. Nothing sexier than that. They completed each other in mind, and maybe now in more than that. They were better together than alone. They made each other whole.
What happened next was never up for debate; Curtis knew it would happen, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer because of it: a kiss.
Oh, he'd kissed people before – and not just on the lips. It never meant anything. That's just what one did while whispering sweet nothings about love as hollow as the person who spoke them. This was different, passionate. That zeal hardly prepared him for making out with someone whose mouth was closer to a mutated raptor's than anything else.
The problem was that Nicole didn't have lips. That was what he noted as she smashed her uncovered teeth into his mouth. He didn't concentrate on the tang of rancid meat nor the aroma of dirt, blood and strange pheromones – he'd been around these things so much they were unpleasant but bearable.
His cheeks were suddenly tickled when the sides of her maxillae came back, caressing his cheeks. It was akin to sticking one's face in a bubble bath, and he imitated this as well as he could with his hands, though he knew he fell short. For a moment, he contented himself with running his tongue across her misaligned, dagger-like teeth. Both the purring and waves of pleasure let him know he did enough, and his heart raced at the sheer kink of making out with a zombie.
Then her mouth opened, her own organ snaking out. It shot down his throat, nearly making his gag reflex kick in. He saw stars, and it felt more like a cock than a tongue until she retracted it. It went all around his mouth, perhaps even flipped it upside-down. Slippery as a squid, and tasted like one, too… if he was being generous. As things got heated, his thumping, hormone-filled brain tangentially realized they had fallen onto a bench by the wayside. This hardly mattered, and he pushed his face even deeper into her own; any sane person walking by would think she tried to eat him! Please don't bite my tongue off, he conveyed to her through his bliss. That would ruin the moment.
She was perfect. He ran his hands across her bumpy scalp while she tussled his hair with her claws. They settled into their kiss. His stomach settled slightly when she popped a question.
You've felt my mind before, she thought, my pain, my joy. Would you like to feel something else?
The inquiry was topped with such a playful inflection that he couldn't help but agree. Then, in a second, it felt like his brain had been shoved into someone else's body – hers. He felt everything from the opposite perspective; suddenly, the claws and talons and everything belonged to him. It only lasted an instant, but it opened a new world of feeling. For a single second, he lacked a heart or even a brain!
That is how you make me feel, she elaborated. She shared her physical sensations instead of emotional for the first time. Combined, he understood she loved this moment as much as she loved him. He took a deep breath before embracing her again, happier than he'd ever been in his life.
…
Nicole loved Curtis. There, she finally said it, admitted it to them both. She believed that confession, regardless of how trashy it was with Isaac a room away, would quell her feelings.
The fact her face was buried in his made her reconsider.
She shouldn't have felt bad. Isaac and she amicably parted ways, and there was nothing wrong with finding someone else. That's what she told herself, but it didn't shake the notion she betrayed him. She shoved the thoughts aside so Curtis didn't have to deal with her angst during his ecstasy. Wasn't nearly as enjoyable for her. Him brushing his soft tongue over her fangs and rubbing her scalp were pleasant feelings, yet nowhere in the ballpark of his euphoria.
Once, this would have thrilled her, exploring the body of another to a degree that approached sex. Those desires faded with death. Libido was a thing of the past for her, rendering her asexual. Hormones like estrogen were no longer produced by her body, and her cognizance organized itself away from such desires. No point of sex when Necromorphs didn't require it to reproduce. He moaned again, and she rolled her eyes while playing the part.
That's why she presented what her body experienced instead of her spirit. Actions and sensations that meant little to her were interpreted by him as erotic. Revealing her mind would show that she was pretty damn bored right now, merely counting down the seconds until the door unlocked and they could die.
Turned on or not, she was more than happy to do this with Curtis. She loved him with all her heart for the qualities she extolled him for. Getting this out of his system was healthy and cathartic.
He had so much love to give, and no one to give it to. She was glad to share it.
Still, she was relieved when he broke away the final time. His lips were covered with blood, which he wiped with his begloved hand. Didn't remove it so much as spread it across his cheeks, which she giggled at.
"T-that was incredible," he stammered. "I hope you liked it, too."
"Maybe not the same way you did… but yes." They still rode on their respective highs when a soft ding yanked their attentions away from each other and toward the door. It was unlocked. Those good feelings were immediately washed away by existential dread. In all likelihood, this was the end. The Leviathan beckoned them in.
"I love you," Curtis whispered again.
"I love you, too."
She took his hand in hers, and they went through.