The Pain Series Volume 1 REPOSTED

by casualattitude

Life is not always sweetness and light, sometimes it's just the opposite

5. Retribution

Apologies for the delay - I had a lot of trouble with work, holiday and writing problems meant this is much later than planned. My thanks go out to GreyWizard, Rob Clark and particularly Lori Bush for helping me get through this.









Chapter 5 : Retribution





As Willow's life had ended, the last of her life-force pouring into Xander, the glow around her body had intensified, rippling around the pair in waves, pulsing outwards, stronger and stronger.

As the scientists watched from the room next door, the alarms still blaring, one final pulse of light flashed from her body, filling the simulation chamber, forcing those watching to shield their eyes.

The pulse of light, the sound of the soldiers running, of the sirens blaring in the background - none of these existed in Xander's world. That world consisted only of the two of them, only the small circle of space that their bodies filled, of the lifeless figure in his arms.....

*********

As the burst of light faded in the simulation chamber, the electronic locks on the doors suddenly flared, sparks flying through the air, the secure nature of the chamber immediately compromised.

'What the hell is going on?,' screamed Dr Clark once again as the observation room suddenly came alive with red lights. 'Fix those locks - NOW!!'

'Sir - security's compromised on both security levels, the main entrance and ......oh shit!! The holding cells on level 4 are open, the demons are loose!!'

'What about level 5? Are they out?'

'Not all sir. Some of the holding cells in level 5 appear to be intact, but the access doors are open. If the demons that have escaped head downwards, there is nothing to stop them. The barracks on level 8 are sealed off, 2nd and 3rd platoons are trapped. We've only got the first wave to secure the facility until we can reroute the power and force the doors open. The elevators have gone into lockdown - the only access is the stairwells.'

At this point the military observer, silent throughout all of the activity, took command, barking orders across the room.

'Very well, send an emergency signal to base. Send all troops outside of the simulator to secure this level and up to level 5. Do not engage the demons until I give the signal. Secure Harris immediately and then move those troops to support.'

As the commands rang out, the alarms intensified, filling the compound as emergency procedure were instigated, the cries of the soldiers as they stormed up the stairs lost amidst the chaos.

*********

The chaos that was not spreading throughout the compound was lost to Xander, the voices, the alarms all meaningless as he knelt there in a pool of blood..

Willow had died.

And with her death the world Xander had lived in, the world he had grown up in, the world he had known...that died too.

Willow's life had ended, her pain was over, but Xander's pain, that had only begun.

And he would not suffer it alone........

*********

As the first soldier reached him, his stun gun ready, his hand outstretched, Xander had still not moved from his position on the floor, his face still wet with the tears that continued to run in a slow, steady stream down his cheeks, his hands still stroking Willow's hair.

And when the crouching soldier's hand landed on his shoulder, another reaching for his arm, he did not react to their touch, did not slap them away, did not try to stop them.

It was only when they tried to pull him away, to separate him from her, to break his grip on her body that he responded.

And that response was cataclysmic......

*********

Xander's conscious mind shut down, closing itself off to outside stimuli, to the world around him. It retreated to a small dark place, shutting itself away from what had happened.

And the space was filled with another part of his mind. That part that the experiments, the scenarios, the scientists had spent so much time trying to stimulate, to harness for their use.

Without any time passing, without pause or hesitation, his hand moved and the soldiers died.

*********

He tore the arm that pulled on his shoulder from its socket, the joint shredding and tearing, spraying the soldier's blood through the air, mixing with the red pool on the floor. Continuing the movement of his hand, Xander reached out, grasping the man's throat, his fingers delving deep inside, wrapping themselves impossibly around the soldier's windpipe and then ripping it from his body, breaking his spinal cord instantly, the body simply crumpling to the floor.

The soldier whose hand pulled at his arm escaped such a death for a moment, even as his wrist was snapped, the bones shattering under the skin. But that moment ended, as all moments do, and when it did, he died too.

Xander's hand, still coated in the blood of the first soldier's throat, had broken the man's wrist with a vicious twist, but when it continued upwards, smashing into the exposed face, and shattering the nose, the impact was devastating. Fragments of gristle and bone were simply propelled inwards and upwards, driving through his head, piercing his brain, killing him instantly.

In the midst of killing the two, in the course of snapping throats and destroying brains, Xander had never changed his stance, still on his knees amidst the pool of Willow's blood. His right hand hadn't moved from his position, still supporting Willow, holding her against his chest.

He had killed the two in the blink of an eye with his left hand, and when the bodies of the two soldiers dropped to the floor, his only reaction was to wrap his left arm around her too, enveloping her in his embrace, even as a keening sound escaped his lips.

The bodies of the soldiers lay there for a moment until Xander suddenly thrust them away, releasing his embrace only to shove them from Willow's body, pushing them out of that small circle.

*********

The cameras that had been recording the room, that had been relaying the pictures into the next-door observatory, had seen it all. They had captured every moment of the experiment, from the entrance to the room to Xander's explosion from his chair.

The scientists had also seen it all, both those in the observation room and those present in the simulation chamber itself. But when the soldier's bodies crumpled to the ground, not a single soul realized what had happened.

They had all been watching, they had seen the soldiers reaching the kneeling form, but the speed, the suddenness of the reaction was beyond them. Only when the soldiers made no further movements, when their blood spilt, and when the scientists realized what it was that had been thrown across the room, did they react.

And that reaction was panic. The soldiers who had poured out of their barracks at the first alarm were still passing through, and the scientists first response was to send a squad inside, their weapons, both stun guns and machine pistols, at the ready.

As the group entered the room, their attention was drawn instantly to the scene at the far side. Xander knelt there, his backs to their approach, ignoring them. The floor around him was simply awash with blood - his own, Willow's, the soldiers'.

Between the advancing troops and the figure across from them were the other soldiers and scientists that had been present during the experiment. The Farlizago demon lay to one side, still stunned from the blasts it had taken from the restraining soldiers, its claws still coated in its victim's blood.

None of them had moved in the time between the death of the first pair and the entrance of the new troops, the suddenness of the event had simply rendered them unable to respond. By the time they realized they needed to help their colleagues, the bodies were already lying on the floor, unmoving, lifeless and nothing they could do could change things.

As the last of the support team crashed through the door, their boots echoing around the confined space, the scientists retreated to the sidewalls, clearing a path to the huddled form.

Four of the troops approached the crouching figure, their tasers extended ahead of them, cautiously stepping closer and closer. As they reached Xander, two of them gripped him by the arms, the second paid holding the stun guns inches from his neck.

Without trying to break Willow from his grip, the pair pulled him upright, his body rising from its knees, lifting her effortlessly, turning to face those surrounding him. As he turned, lifting his head for the first time since breaking his restraints, the cameras and the men and women around him saw his face for the first time.

His expression was enough to cause a number of the troops to take a step back. There was no expression of rage or anger on his face. No sign that he might attack them or fight back against them.

Instead it was the lack of expression that caused them to pale. Xander's face was chalk-white, every scar, every cut, and every mark standing out in stark contrast. Even his lips were pale, bloodless, clenched tight against his teeth.

The only color on his face was the red droplets, the scarlet streaks that ran across his face, overlaying a number of the scars, clouding one eye. His face was not coated with the blood, despite the volume of it that covered the floor, nor was his hair matted with it. Instead, the lack of such a quantity only served to draw attention even further towards it, making its point even without excess.

But the blood that speckled his visage, that dotted across his forehead and nose, was only the first thing that those watching him observed. As they gazed on his face, all eyes were eventually drawn to Xander's, to his contact with the visual world, and it was these eyes that caused them to pale in return.

Xander's eyes were normally a warm brown shade, hazel in color. In another world they had shone with life, showing clearly every emotion that he had felt. Those who knew him well could read him through those eyes, read how he was feeling, happy or sad.

Willow had been one of those. The best of those.

They say that the eyes are the gateway to the soul. That everything that is important to a person can be seen in their depths if you look deep enough, if you look hard enough.

If that was true then what was important to Xander was gone forever.

For in his eyes could be seen nothing. No light shone there, no laughter glinted. No tears were present, no pain reflected. These eyes were lifeless, dead pools in the middle of his face.

As those watching felt their own eyes drawn to Xander's, they could feel themselves almost sucked into their depths, falling into the bleakness. Xander's eyes were focused on everything and nothing at the same time, not pausing at any one image, not resting on any one person, simply staring ahead at something only he could see.

What was missing in those eyes was that which motivates people, that keeps them getting up in the morning even when all is gone, when they have no hope. They were the eyes of a dead man.

Then, without any change in his surroundings, Xander slowly knelt, still holding Willow's lifeless body in his arms, ignoring the shouts of the soldiers in front and behind him, ignoring the weapons that raised immediately at his movements.

Crouching down, he lowered Willow to the ground, his actions almost in slow motion, supporting her gently as he did so. As her weight reached the ground, he released her body gradually, laying it down with almost tender care, laying her arms across her chest, straightening her limbs.

He knelt there for just a moment, head bowed, and then, reaching out with one hand, he gently stroked downwards across her face, closing the lids of her eyes, shielding them from the world.

Before soldiers behind him lost patience again, Xander stood, rising to his feet almost as slowly as he had knelt, his head still bowed, his eyes staring vacantly at the woman now laid out at his feet.

As he reached his full height, he stood there for a moment, eyes downcast, until one of the soldiers nudged him with the butt of his rifle.

At this contact, Xander raised his head, lifting his eyes to the room once more.

If his dead expression had caused them to pale, if his lifeless eyes had caused them to take a step back, then the expression on his face now was enough to give a man nightmares.

The emotion that had been missing from his face before, the lack of expression that had unnerved his watchers, that was now gone, but what it had been replaced by was even more terrifying.

When they looked into his eyes this time, the dead pools that had been there before had been replaced by hell. Not the hell of today's Christianity, this was not remorse and regret, not the hell of mental anguish, the remembrance of one's sins.

This was the hell of old, of days in the past. This was the hell of fire, of anger and pain, of fury and torment. This was the hell of agony and torture, the hell of the bibles, of the pitchfork. It was the hell of revenge and retribution, of murder and death.

And in those pools of hell, those witnessing could see their own fate in the future, the payment for their life's work, for their life's deeds.

And Xander was the one who would ensure they would meet their fate, that they would make that payment.

*********

In the moments silence that filled the room, nobody moved, the attention of all present drawn to the man standing at one end. The weapons were still trained on Xander, the cameras still recording him, waiting for him to move.

But despite the rage in his eyes, the fury written across his face, it wasn't Xander that made the first move.

The Farlizago demon had been lying on the ground, stunned by the soldiers' tasers, his movements limited by the fetters that had bound its limbs. But with all attention drawn to Xander, those holding it back had loosened their grip on the restraints, had weakened their hold on the demon.

With the smell of blood in the air, with its claws still coated in it from its attack, the demon's senses were heightened. The power of the electricity that had flowed into its body, that had weakened it, was quickly dispelled, and the moment the restraints were loosed, the demon reacted.

Exploding upright, rearing to its full height, the demon wrenched at its restraints, tearing them from the grip of the nearby soldiers, the action pulling them towards it. The shocked soldiers had no time to realize the consequence of their carelessness. As the demon's hands lashed out, slashing their throats with each clawed fist, they lacked even the ability to scream, only a gurgle coming from the gashes created, as bubbles of air escaped.

As the two soldiers were still falling, still dying, the demon kept moving, leaping at the nearest figure around him, the nearest human. Unfortunately for Dr Drake Roberts, the lead scientist in the simulator room, that happened to be him.

He had no time to defend himself from the attack, in fact for the briefest of time, he didn't even realize he was under attack, his attention still drawn to Xander, to the fury in his eyes. Only when the jaws of the demon were closing on his shoulder, when the spikes on its forearms were shredding his body, did he realize what was happening, but it was too late. As the blood flowed, as the demons hands tore through his ribs, driving into his chest, he had no time for any last words, for any regrets. The only thing he had time for in those last few seconds of his life was pain, unbearable agonizing pain.

The only positive thing about the pain was that it ended quickly. The downside to this of course was that as the pain ended, so did his life.

As the remaining scientists scrambled to get away from the blood-crazed beast, the soldiers that still filled the room finally responded. Their weapons spat fire at the demon, spraying bullets at its huge frame. At those close quarters, the bullets could not miss, plowing into its torso, its legs, driving into its body.

The assault slowed the demon for a moment, the sheer amount of lead that poured into its body enough to drive it back a few steps, pushing backwards against the wall. As the rate of fire increased, the weapons quickly drained of ammunition, forcing a number of the soldiers to pause momentarily to reload.

That pause was enough for the demon. As the rate of fire lessened for a moment, it flung itself forward, diving at the legs of the nearest men, hurtling beneath the path of bullets that still flew, crashing into the nearest group.

The men into whom it crashed tried to keep it at bay, shooting it repeatedly at close range. No matter how many bullets they were hammering into the demon, they could not stop it. Having been called in by the emergency signal, they were unaware that a Farlizago demon could only be killed by severing its spinal cord, by breaking the contact from its brain to its body, and despite the damage the bullets were doing, not one of them managed to cut that link.

As the demon shredded all those around it, its arms swinging wildly, howling with the pain the bullets caused, those soldiers with stun guns tried to approach, extending their tasers as they did so, unable to fire immediately for fear of hitting their colleagues and making them more vulnerable to the creature on the attack.

All this had taken less than 15 seconds from the moment Xander risen from the floor. 15 seconds that had drawn the attention of all those in the room away from him, despite the fear that his expression had caused, despite the hell that poured from his eyes.

That lack of attention proved fatal for those nearest to the blood splashed figure.

Without warning, Xander span around to face the two soldiers who still stood behind him, their tasers aimed at his neck. With their attention away from him for a moment, the speed of his spin took them by surprise, and when he reached out with both hands, their weapons were no longer close enough to touch him. With the tasers they may have had a chance, but without them, they were already doomed.

Two fast punches were enough to render them unconscious, mercifully preventing them from even feeling the follow up blows which snapped their necks with sudden force. The blows were made even as Xander span, whipping out so quickly that he continued his rotation without stopping, their bodies crashing to the ground behind him.

With his back now free of potential threats, Xander continued his spin into a low dive towards the nearest wall, rolling sideways as he landed. Continuing his movement, he used his momentum to spring outwards, bouncing off the wall, using his feet to increase his speed to a blur.

His eyes seemed to shift color as he moved, appearing to turn a strange yellow shade as the pupils themselves took on the appearance of a feline's slitted shape, the animal inside him taking over. Any such physical change should have been impossible even as it occurred, a change that could not be explained, was never explained, even in the aftermath, as those who would conduct the investigation would argue over what they were seeing.

Xander's body, his movements, his actions, were no longer under his conscious control, subsumed by the dark inner being that had been drawn out, forced out by what had happened. As he continued his assault, the blood that sprayed, the bones that broke, the screams that rang out, they were all lost to him.

The soldiers in the room tried to respond to the twin threats that they now faced, unable to turn their backs on either figure without fear of attack. The demon still shredded and clawed at them, slowing now as the sheer number of minor wounds, of fluid loss, drained it of strength. The bullets still could not kill it, but the demon was slowly being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. As the tasers and stun rods rammed into its body, only the frenzied blood lust to which it had been raised kept it going, kept it fighting.

As a soldier fell under Xander's attack, his body falling to the ground, back broken, paralyzed, the sight of his combat knife stirred a reflex in Xander's mind that interrupted even the animal fury.

He snatched up the knife without stopping, holding it close to his body in his right hand, gripping the hilt, the blade facing back down his arm, hidden by his wrist. Wielding it smoothly, building it into his animal assault without breaking his smooth actions, he continued on to the next target.

The soldier in front of was bringing his weapon to bear even as Xander turned, his rifle spitting bullets in a continuous stream only for Xander's hand to flash out, slicing across the man's neck, cutting through the jugular in one smooth stroke.

As the man fell, blood jetting from the severed artery, the weapon in his hand continued to fire, his finger locked on the trigger, the death grip continuing even after the signals from his brain ceased. The spray of bullets continued to fly through the air, no longer aimed at Xander, now firing indiscriminately.

That indiscriminate fire proved fatal for a number of the scientists still cowering out of the way. As the soldier had been standing in the center of the room, he had been swinging towards the side wall when turning to face Xander, and even as he fell, that turn had continued, pulling his rifle as he went. The bullets crashed into the scientists, tearing through their white lab coats, splashing them red in the process.

Only two of the scientists died, bullets smashing through their skulls, the bullets crushing their skulls.

A number of the other scientists were more, or perhaps less, fortunate. Instead of dying instantly, their pain ending, the bullets merely smashed into their bodies, destroying shoulders, puncturing limbs, breaking bones. As they were thrown backwards by the force of the impacts, their screams filled the air, for a moment outdoing even the frenzied snarls of the demon, the sound of the continuing gunfire.

Before the dead soldier's body had even hit the ground, his rifle had ran out of bullets, its magazine drained. That was enough to save three of the scientists who had lain in the path of the bullets, but unfortunately for them, Xander had never stopped moving.

The first of the trio had had the reflexes to dive from the initial path of the gunfire, saving his life at the cost of his friends, but his actions were only enough to prolong his life for a few seconds. As his back hit the wall, his eyes only had time to register the boot that was flying towards his face before it impacted, shattering his nose, crushing his cheekbones, rendering him unconscious immediately.

The pair still untouched did not remain so for long. The first had his throat punctured with a lightening fast lunge of the knife, the second was rendered unconscious with a similarly fast knife-handed strike, Xander's rigid fingers driving into the pressure point behind his ear. The power of the strike was enough to shatter the small bones at the side of the skull, sending him into a coma from which he would never awaken.

With all the scientists in that part of the room dead, dying or unconscious, Xander's attention immediately focused itself on the remaining soldiers.

With most of their attention still drawn to the struggling demon at the other side of the room, the speed of his attack had caught them by surprise, even knowing what he had done to the first two soldiers, even after seeing the power in his eyes. Those who had followed the fight were still trying to move into position, their actions hampered by the confusion in the room, their movements and aim hindered by the bodies of colleagues and friends they were reluctant to endanger.

The room was now flooded with gunfire, the smell of the cordite and blood filling the air as blood sprayed, as bodies fell.

The demon was still fighting, still inflicting chaos on the soldiers that surrounded it, slashing wildly even as it slowed. There was no logic in its movement, no control as it fought, crazed by the smell of blood, the taste of flesh, driven almost mad by the increasing pain from its multiple wounds.

In contrast, Xander's movements were a picture of fluid motion, every action flowing from one to the next, never slowing in their pattern of destruction. As he tore through the men and women around him, the soldiers and scientists alike fell in his path, cut down by his boots, his elbows, his fists. The knife he had collected was joined by another, waving, slicing, swirling through the air.

As the soldiers tried to stop him with their guns, tasers, knives and fists, they only offered themselves as targets for his rage. Their bullets couldn't touch him as he span, ducked and dove around the open space. The bolts from their tasers struck only the walls or the bodies of those around them. Their knives were simply swatted aside, sliding past his body as he moved, inches away from cutting him as they sliced the air.

He flung himself towards them, instantly aware of where they all were, knowing without knowing. Once in the midst of a crowd of soldiers, his superior speed and reflexes rendered whatever they tried useless. Xander's fighting style was strange, unfamiliar, their well skilled, well drilled moves not trained to cope with the odd movements that prevented any clear pattern.

Low sweeps would be turned into somersaults, striking out even while in mid- movement, a blur as he cut through their ranks. The soldiers were too close together now to make effective use of their weapons, and their efforts to overwhelm him with sheer numbers failed miserably against his enhanced strength, the enhanced strength that their masters had sparked off.

As the men and women fell, the scientists still alive huddled together, retreating to the walls, curling up on the floor, trying to stay out of the path of the bullets and bodies. Some made it, reaching the walls in one piece, using the bodies of their colleagues to shelter themselves. Others didn't, cut down without mercy by their own men, by the demon, but mostly by the whirlwind of death that Xander had become.

Xander was still cutting, slashing, rending his way through anyone still standing when suddenly there was no more. Even the Farlizago demon had fallen, a random bullet from a dying soldier making it past its claws and severing its spine, its reflexes slowed by the sheer number of bullets that had been poured into it, by the sheer amount of electricity that had been fired at its body.

The room suddenly fell silent. The howls of the demon cut short, the firing of the soldiers' weapons ending as they fell, as their weapons ran dry. Even the screams of the injured had not yet begun, their bodies falling into a state of shock as their minds tried to cope with what had happened.

*********

All this had taken place in mere minutes.

Minutes in which the observers in the next room had been forced to watch in disbelief as they saw their friends and co-workers massacred, as they watched the soldiers who were there to protect them torn apart.

The only person still standing in the room was Xander, his body, once speckled in blood as he had held Willow in his arms, now bathed in it, every inch of his body soaked in death.

His red streaked face, hair now matted in blood, still bore his expression of fury, of rage held barely under control, only a tiny part of his mind controlling that rage, turning him from a crazed animal into a single minded weapon of destruction. His eyes continued to radiate hatred as he stood there for a moment.

The bodies of those he had killed surrounded him, piled on top of each other in places, the body parts mingled together. Those still alive continued to move, but these movements consisted of trying to hide or of trying to stem the blood that poured from their wounds.

None tried to attack him, to stop him, to kill him. Those who thought they possessed the ability to try had already fallen against his attack., all their skills, their training, their weapons defeated.

At that moment, Xander could have stopped, could have ended the carnage. With no more attacks against him, with Willow beyond saving, the animal rage that had carried him this far was no longer required. Until this point, he had been operating on instinct, tearing through the room in a sheer frenzy of destruction, killing with pure passion, tearing apart anyone that stood in his path until there was quite literally no-one left standing.

As his animal rage cooled, as the pure fury that had driven him to this point eased, the other side of Xander's personality resurfaced, the rage in his eyes cooling as he stood there.

Unfortunately for those scientists and soldiers that had not been killed in the first few minutes after he had burst from the chair, that other side of Xander's personality was not the fun-loving, goofy young man that had been brought to the facility over a year ago.

The team of scientists had spent a great deal of time with him in their simulator, trying to bring out his memories. As they had discovered, his possession was not that of the Vietnam vet that had been thought but that of a warrior spirit.

And one thing a warrior never does is leave behind him a potential threat.

Xander was still holding the knives he had torn from the soldiers, blood still dripping from the blades, and he reached down to one of the first that he had killed and stripped the sheaths that were fixed to his hips. Lashing them against his own legs he secured the blades to his own thighs, one to each leg.

He looked around the room, a cold expression now on his blood streaked face as his mind analyzed the situation. Reaching down once more, he picked up the guns lying from two soldiers' lifeless fingers.

And then he killed them all.

*********

The pleas of those who saw his approach, the cries of the wounded, the moans of the dying - Xander heard none of these as he strode through the chamber, death following on his shoulder like a shadow.

The last images that those still alive witnessed were of his approach, of his expressionless, blood soaked face, and last of all, the muzzle of the rifle being pressed against their foreheads.

None heard the shots that ended their own lives, the bullets faster than sound. All they could hear were the shots that were killing their friends, snuffing out lives with every pull of the trigger.

It was no battle.

It was no massacre.

It was an execution

As the shots rang out, the cries of the few remaining troops and scientists dwindled, their numbers reduced with every shot until, with one final crack of gunfire, the room fell silent, even the alarms seeming to fade into the background, as the only person still alive ceased his activity.

*********

Xander was left standing alone, surrounded by nothing but the bodies of the dead, the walls and floor around him bloody evidence of what had transpired.

Of what he had done.

Of those he had killed.

*********

Even as the last of them had crumpled, Xander turned away from the entrance, turning towards the woman whose death had sparked the carnage. Her body still lay untouched in a clear circle, unaffected by the destruction around her.

Her face was still unmarked, its porcelain appearance broken only by the trickle of blood that had escaped her lips, trickling down the side of her chin. Her hair still retained the fiery glow that had first drawn Xander's eyes to her, all those years ago, when he was still known by his birth name. The months they had spent underground had dimmed that fire slightly, the lack of care had left it lank and lifeless for much of the time, but in death it seemed to be shining more brightly than ever before.

Ignoring the bodies surrounding them, Xander strode back to her still form, pacing his way silently as he crossed the room, stepping over the bodies as he went until he reached her.

Reaching down, he gently wiped the trickle of blood from her face, his fingertips stroking across her smooth skin, rendering it flawless once more. As his eyes turned to her face, the grim, cold expression softening, breaking, to be replaced in turn by a deep sadness.

*********

The scientists that had been forced to witness the deaths of their friends and colleagues from the next room had been unable to respond.

Their first instinct to flood the room with troops had been prevented by the immediate assault from the demons from the higher levels. As if drawn downwards, most had poured from their cells and headed instinctively for the lower levels, engaging the troops there in a furious battle.

With much of the compound's troops still trapped in the barracks and rec. rooms on the lowest level, held there by the security systems designed to limit entry access, the limited number of troops that had not entered the simulation chamber were fully engaged in a furious battle for their lives.

They first made contact with the onrushing demons on the stairway between Levels 5 and 6, mowing down the first demon in a compact cross fire, the troops taking cover behind railings and doorways.

With the demons that had escaped from Level 5 being slow to respond to their newfound freedom, the troops were able to force their way up the stairwell, taking casualties at every step.

The limited space provided by the staircase proved to be both a blessing and a curse for the advancing soldiers. While the demons were limited in their attack, unable to charge downwards in sufficient numbers to break through, the narrow space also limited the soldiers firepower.

A suicide charge from one demon resulted in 4 down as the demon flung itself through the air, crashing down on top of them. As it landed on the lead soldier, its sheer weight snapping his neck in an instant, its talons were already reaching out to those following, slashing through flesh and bone, sending their bodies hurtling across and then down the stairwell, their screams ending abruptly as their bodies crashed to the concrete floor 3 levels below.

Private Daniels was the next in line. As his friends were killed in front of his eyes, time seemed to slow for him. He could see the demon reaching for him, feel it's talons thrusting between his ribs, piercing his still beating heart, but even as he died he had time for one final act. Dropping his now useless rifle, his last action was to reach for the grenade across his chest, activating the pressure trigger as he did so.

In the narrow confines in which the battle was taking place, the explosion was devastating.

The grenade took out the Belargan demon that had been following close behind, the shrapnel cutting it to ribbons in an instant, it's purple blood spraying against the walls, flinging its body back up the stairs.

The shockwave from the explosion was enough to blow back the demons who were pouring into the stairwell, causing those following them to pause their headlong rush out from their holding cells.

The majority of the advancing soldiers had been sheltered from the blast by the turn of the stairwell, enabling a trio of soldiers to push upwards in a wedge, reaching the entrance to Level 5 before being cut down in turn by an acid spitting Kelthn demoness.

The speed of their advance however had been enough to allow sufficient troops to reach the entrance to the holding level. Firing as fast as they could, they were able to drive back the demons that had made their way out of their cells, till the entire troop had made it onto the level, sheltering behind the consoles and equipment that stretched down the center of the level's hallway.

The battle continued, the demons pouring down from the level above, supported by the even more dangerous beasts on the level the soldiers had reached. Even as the troops continued to pour through the doorway, they were met by the advancing demon horde until the entire level was filled with the sounds of battle.

The screams of dying soldiers, the screeches of wounded demons, the sound of gunfire, the howls of rage - they rose together to form a cacophony of noise, so loud that even the sound-proofing that ran throughout the compound was unable to stop the noise from spreading.

*********

Even as the battle was raging outside and above him, Xander still knelt over the motionless figure at his feet, his fingers still brushing her hair from her face. He stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, not moving from his crouched position until the noise of the battle above percolated even through the shielded walls of the chambers.

With one last kiss on her cheek, one last lingering look that burned her into his memory, Xander suddenly stood, turning his back on her tiny frame.

His face closed off once more, the softness that had crept over his face as he had knelt beside his murdered friend fading, replaced by the same cold hardness that had shown on his face as he had stalked the room.

Once more his expression was dead, only a glimmer at the back of his eyes indicating the barely suppressed animal fury, the madness that was ready to ignite at any moment, held back only by the absence of any current threat, by the control of his soldier's instincts.

As he paced to the door, he gathered weapons and equipment from the soldiers as he went, utility belts torn from bloody corpses stuffed with ammunition and grenades, pistols stored in a leather belt stripped from a now dead scientist. Only one rifle was taken, slung across his back, twin vicious knives lashed to each thigh, ready to be drawn in an instant, a Kevlar vest strapped across his chest.

In his left hand he held yet another blade, its entire metal surface coated in the green blood of the Farlizago demon the soldier had slashed at in a desperate attempt to save his own life. That had done the soldier little good, his own life terminated as his throat was torn out, but the weapon itself still had a purpose.

In his right was clutched yet another pistol, held loosely at his side as he walked.

Without looking back at the carnage behind him, at the body of his murdered loved one, Xander left the chamber, the horrific scene behind him a testament to what the project had accomplished.

*********

The scientists in the observation chamber next door had watched the entire scene through the still functioning cameras, every action, every death recorded for posterity. They were torn between following the ongoing battle higher up and that going on almost next door, but as the last of their colleagues in the simulation room had their lives ended by Xander's bullets, a number of them finally realized the situation they were facing.

Above them, some of the most dangerous creatures in the world were loose en masse, battling with the soldiers that were there to guard them.

Below them, the remaining troops were still trying to break out of the now sealed lower chambers, the damaged circuitry preventing them from joining the battle going on above.

And in the chamber nearby, the man - or at least what used to be a man - that they had built, that their experiments had created, was now loose, and more to the point, was armed to the teeth and was heading out of prison.

The observing scientists had made up most of those that worked at the facility. Even those not directly involved in the project had been present, the success of the experiments not lost on any of them. All were highly educated, well trained in what they did, at the cutting edge of their fields. Each had served years in their specialty before being granted access to the compound, had served years with the military on top secret experiments.

But at the realization that for the first time they might be under direct threat, that the results of their work might come back to affect them, the discipline that had been drilled into them, that all their training had imparted - that all disappeared.

Like frightened children, they panicked.

While some tried frantically to make contact with the communications room below, desperately trying to get help, others simply tried to hide behind desks and cabinets. The bravest and most afraid had the same reaction - to flee.

Some may have had the notion of trying to help the soldiers fighting above, others to retreat downstairs and try to release the rest of the support troops. The most foolhardy may have had thoughts of engaging their now escaping subject. Most were simply trying desperately to flee to anywhere away from the danger.

It didn't matter.

As they fled from the observation room, they ran straight into the path of the oncoming Xander, and at the sight of them, of their white clad figures, the madness that had flickered at the back of his eyes resurfaced once more, flaring up, blazing up.

The part of his mind that held the memories of his hyena possession rose to the surface, breaking the restraints that his warrior side held on him, fueling his rage. As a dog can be trained to drool at the sound of a bell, the sight of the scientists uniforms produced a similar instinctive reaction in Xander. For months on end, the sight of those uniforms had only meant pain and suffering for him, over and over again, without end, until the final orders that ended Willow's life.

It was no surprise therefore that the reaction of his animal side wasn't pleasant. It was to kill.

To kill any and all such creatures, to wipe out those who had caused him such anguish, such pain, until there were no more left to do it to him again.

Torture an animal enough, eventually it will turn on its owner, no matter how much power that owner may have. And in this case, it was not the owner that had the power - it was Xander.

Throwing his pistol away, his right hand tore a blade from the strap on his thigh, both hands now wielding the razor sharp weapons as he flung himself headlong at the scientists, all restraint gone in that instant.

Had his instinctive respond not kicked into gear, perhaps his response would have been different, perhaps he would have used the guns and rifles, perhaps they would have died quickly.

In a strange way, it was the lack of direct threat that they offered to him that caused them to die the way they did, cut down in flight, throats cuts, spines severed, stomachs gutted.

The bloodshed didn't take long, the speed of his headlong assault too much for the frantic scientists. In moments they were all down, their bodies filling the hallway, strewn from end to end.

From the time the first strike was made, cutting down a petite doctor from behind, to the last, ripping a tall blonde man open from neck to waist, the carnage never ceased. Like the animal that he once was, Xander simply tore apart each and every person that he encountered, his twin blades wielded like claws.

The screams of those dying, the sounds of their bodies being torn apart, carried through to those scientists that had stayed inside, to those cowering in corners, listening to their friends being decimated by their own creation, but in the end their cowardice only served to prolong their lives by a handful of minutes.

As the last of the scientists in the hallway fell to the ground, his blood mingling with those already cut down, Xander's animal never cooled in the slightest. Turning to the doorway from which the scientists had poured, like rats from a sinking ship, he threw himself headlong through the doorway.

Had there been any soldiers in the room, perhaps they might have been able to cut him down with their rifles. Perhaps. But the scientists that had stayed in the room, that had not fled with the rest, posed no danger to the berserker that burst through the doorway.

Racing round the enclosed space, Xander slaughtered them wherever they were. Tearing them from behind desks, pulling them from the cupboards in which some tried to hide, all were found and none spared.

The last to die was Dr Rob Clarke. The scientist that had headed the Logan Project from its inception had elected to observe the final experiment from the comfort of the observation chamber, choosing not to be present in person. That decision had extended his life span as he watched the collapse of his dreams in the nearby room, as he had heard the deaths of his colleagues in the hallway, but with the approach of his creation, his own Frankenstein's monster, it could not keep him alive any longer.

Xander was not aware that the man in front of him was the man responsible for his situation, nor was he aware that it was this man that had given the final order that ended Willow's life.

A movie would have shown a dramatic confrontation, words of accusation flung at him.

This was not a movie.

As Xander's hands reached out, as his thumbs plunged into the doctors eyes, bearing into the brain, tearing the head apart, the only emotion the scientist felt was pain. A pain that fortunately for him ended quickly as his neck was snapped, the spinal cord shattered.

The end was sudden.

And just like that, Xander's rage ended. With the last of his enemies cut down, with no more left to kill, to slaughter, the side of his personality that had executed all survivors of the initial battle resurfaced, changing him from the blood crazed animal that had torn through the white suited scientists and back to the ice cold killer he had been just minutes earlier.

Leaving the room quickly, ignoring all those strewn around, Xander collected the weapons he had discarded in his crazed assault, once more kitting himself out in guns, rifles and grenades, and headed to the stairwell.

To the way out.

*********

The soldiers that fought in the level above had made progress, the demons attacks lessening as the battle had worn on. Had all of the cells on level 5 been occupied, had all of the locks disengaged, perhaps the battle might not have gone their way, but as it was, they looked like winning the fight.

It had not been without cost. Over half the troops were down, the power and fury of the demons that flung themselves at them as if compelled to do so making each one more dangerous than any single soldier.

The infighting among the demons as they attacked the troops had been the other aspect of the battle that had kept them in the fight. Demons are not one big family, not matter what fiction might say. Grudges, vendettas and pure hatred between different classes of the demons had meant that half their time had been spent battling each other rather than the soldiers who were engaging them.

If the remaining troops that had been trapped on the lowest level been able to make it out, to come and offer additional firepower and support, then the battle would have swung decisively in the direction of the soldiers. The situation would have been controlled, albeit with heavy losses, and the soldiers might have lived.

Unfortunately for those still alive and fighting, the troops below them had not made it out of their barracks, despite their best efforts, and the only human that came up the stairs from below them was the one they would have prayed not to do so.

*********

As Xander made his way up to the level above him, he was greeted by the sight of the soldiers backs, all full engaged against the attackers that lay in front of them.

They could not have been more exposed to him had they been standing there naked.

*********

The battle ended quickly.

With no need to protect his fellow soldiers, to control his fire to avoid hitting his own men, Xander's entrance consists of a hail of small, round tubes that flew over the heads of the soldiers in front of him.

They landed just meters ahead of the foremost soldier, distracting him enough to allow one of the onrushing Herannit demons to tear into him, its bony forefinger driving into his neck.

It mattered little. As the grenades detonated, one after the other, the effect was devastating. Each blast had not even faded before another rang out, spraying shrapnel and shock waves from one end of the level to the other.

The impact was equally destructive to both sides of the battle.

The soldiers, who moments ago thought they were on the brink of victory, were shredded. The closeness of the nearest grenade meant that the foremost group of soldiers, sheltering behind a large computing unit in the center of the hall, were cut down in an instant, the hundreds of metal shards slicing through them immediately. Those soldiers that had not advanced as far into the level either met the same fate as those in front of them, or were flung back by the force of the shockwaves. Their Kevlar body armor saved some of them, absorbing the metal fragments as they impacted, but it did them little good.

Even as the last of the explosions ended, Xander strode into the devastation, absorbing every aspect of the situation all instantly as his eyes swept the area. He paced through the soldiers, firing as he did so, cutting them down before they had a chance to recover from the unexpected grenades.

Their body armor could not save them. No army in the world has created armor that will absorb rifle rounds to the head at close range, and so it proved once more.

It appeared that the shockwaves and sound from the explosions had barely faded from the area before the last of the soldiers fell, cut down from the direction they had expected reinforcements to arrive, their help proving to be their end instead.

Xander wasted no time in checking bodies, knowing they were dead even as he moved on to the next, pouring bullets into each as he passed.

The demons had caught most of the blast from the grenades which had been flung into their midst. As they detonated, the bodies of those close to the cylinders were blown apart, flung in every direction possible.

Given the power of many of the demons, it was unsurprising that more survived the explosions than did of the soldiers, but it served them little.

Having finished the last of the soldiers, Xander continued on his relentless path through the level, turning his assault to those demons still alive.

Some of them survived his assault. There are a multitude of demons and an equal number of different ways of killing them, but as the Farlizago demon have proven, not all can be killed easily.

To Xander that made little difference. Those that could be killed by bullets were riddled till the ground could be seen through their bodies. Those that could be killed by blade were sliced apart, their efforts to defend themselves, to fight back against the human that was killing them, almost pitiful in the face of his assault.

Those that could not be killed were put out of action, at least for the present. It is difficult for even the strongest of demons to continue an assault with both kneecaps blown away, and against an opponent with no qualms of sending yet another grenade in their direction, it was almost impossible.

Xander had strode through the entire level almost without pause, his steady pace interrupted only by the need to avoid the occasional demon in his path, by the need to finish off yet another threat, and in all that time, during all of his killing, his expression had never changed, the only emotion that of a steely focus.

The demons still in their holding cells were ignored. They offered no threat to him, and in his current state of mind were irrelevant. Stopping to kill them would only slow him down, distracting him from the one task that still ran through his conscious mind.

Only the small guard detail on the third level now lay ahead, the only barrier to Xander's escape from this place.

And as the cameras showed in the aftermath, as the investigations established in the months that followed, that barrier may as well not have existed, for as Xander made his escape from the compound, disappearing into the jungle, he left no-one alive in his wake......

*********

DOWNLOAD COMPLETE......

Xander's computing unit bleeped loudly and then once more before the screen went blank, its work done. The information held within the facilities mainframe had been copied, still in its encrypted form. Whether it could be decrypted in the future remained a task for others, but there was nothing more that could be done here.

Disconnecting the unit from the mainframe, he once more strapped it against his forearm, lashing it in place in the process, before turning back to the bound figures that lay around him.

Ignoring the scientists and soldiers tied up against the sides of the chamber's walls, his eyes locked with the silent figure on the chair in front of him. Riley had been lost in the same memories until the computer unit's sound had broken the silence.

Xander paced slowly across the room until he was standing directly in front of the bound figure, looking down on the man responsible for what had been for the destruction of his youth.

The pair stared each other in silence for a minute or two until Xander surprisingly broke the quiet, his voice almost reminiscing as he spoke.

'You know, when I left here and returned to Sunnydale, it wasn't the same - I wasn't the same. It took me a long time to get back even a part of who I once was, to get my life back and then.........I lost it that too. I thought for a long time of what I would ever do to you if I ever caught up with you, of everything I could do to you.. Then I thought of Willow and what you put her through. Not just the torture but the months before that, when you forced the magic out of her, when you forced the life from her. I remember when you had her killed.'

'I didn't have her killed. I wasn't even there remember? They transferred me offsite before it happened,' Riley tried to argue.

Xander merely regarded him slowly, studying his face, a calm expression on his face, almost peaceful as he continued, an almost questioning tone in his low voice.

'Over the years I've encountered a number of those who made it out of here alive - scientists, soldiers. Under pressure, most people can be made to talk, even those with hypnotically implanted blocks, and one thing I know a lot about now is applying pressure. You were the first to suggest that she died Riley. Worse than that - you actually asked to be the one that would kill her, that would murder her. They might have killed us both anyway when the experiment ended, but you weren't content with that, you had to kill her in front of me.'

'Someone else would have proposed it Xander,' Riley snapped back. 'You really think I was the only one to consider it?'

'I have no doubt you're right,' Xander continued, his expression still serene. 'Had you not suggested it, perhaps another would, but do you think that makes it better? Do you think that it takes away anything from what you did here?'

Riley glared at him, his efforts to free himself from the bonded restraints that held him in place proving fruitless.

'So what now? You're going to torture me? You think she would want you to do this? You think it'll change things?'

The faintest of movements flickered at the side of Xander's mouth, enough to twist the jagged scar that streaked to his jaw. Not enough to be a smile, not enough to be a grimace, just a twitch of his muscle as he continued.

'You never understood me Riley. All the time in Sunnydale, all the time here, all the studying and you still never understood me. No-one here did. Over the years I realized that there is something missing in you, in those who worked here - the ability to determine whether the ends do justify the means, but also something much simpler. You have no concept of the difference between right and wrong.'

'Fuck you Xander. I did what I did and I've no regrets. You think by telling me all this you'll get me to break down in tears - it's not going to happen. You're going to torture me? Go ahead, it won't change a thing.'

Riley was almost spitting in his face, anger overwhelming fear, forcing his hatred of Xander to the fore, trying to change Xander's calm face, to force a response.

'Like I said Riley, you never understood me. I'm not going to kill you, I'm not even going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything to you at all.'

Riley stared at him in disbelief, unable to believe what he was hearing, studying Xander's expression, seeing nothing but sincerity in his face, in his eyes.

The two scientists still lying against the wall stayed silent, watching the pair in front of them for any signs they might yet be allowed to leave in one piece.

'How would it change things Riley? Would it give me back the months you took from my life? Would it make up for the pain you caused me? For the nightmares? Would it bring Willow back? In the end, what you did here wasn't the worst thing to happen to me, but of course you probably know that already. After all, your government helped them to find me in the first place.....'

'My government?,' interrupted Riley, 'It's the US government Xander. It's your government too.'

'I don't think so Riley. They lost any rights over me a long time ago.'

The rest of the room was silent. The two doctors lay there watching as their attacker spoke, following the conversation as it passed.

'So what, that's it? You just going to let me go?'

Disbelief was obvious in his tone, clearly not believing Xander's statement

'I think you misunderstand me Riley. I said that I wasn't going to do anything to you, that I wouldn't hurt you, and I'm telling you the truth, but you forget that when you killed Willow, I wasn't the only one affected.'

Xander reached down to his left thigh, pulling one of his knives from its sheath, the black surface of the blade drawing all eyes towards it as it seemed to suck the light out of the air. He stepped towards the bound figure, still tied to the chair, fear now evident in his eyes.

'I've carried this with me for a couple of years now. Not because I was actively trying to find you, but because I was asked to. I'm not the only one you had reason to fear Riley, I'm not the only one who has one of these, just for the chance to cross your path.'

Riley was sweating now as Xander reached him, the pores on his forehead showing his fear of the man now standing inches away from him. His muscled frame now shuddered in terror as his eyes focused on the knife in front of his eyes, transfixed.

Suddenly the knife flashed, slicing through the air, its sharpened blade cutting through fabric as if it were silk.

It cut quickly through the tough material around Xander's wrist, the cloth parting smoothly and as it did so, a small chip fell out of the carefully constructed niche within the sleeve of the arm, dropping into the palm of his hand.

The chip was small, only an inch long, less than that across, small gold contact showing at one end.

'You remember how smart Willow was Riley? How good she was at computers? I've only known one person better than her. He lacked only the motivation, but after you killed Willow, and after what the Logan project then did to him....well, that certainly motivates him now.

This chip was designed specially for this. I never thought it would ever be used, never thought I'd get the chance, but he hates you almost as much as I once did and far more than I do now. I don't need to know exactly what is on this chip, because I know the man who created this. I know what you did to him, what happened to him, and more importantly, I know how he felt about Willow, about what you did to her.

You do remember Oz don't you?'

*********

As he finished his speech, Xander rose once more, turning his back on the bound Riley, stalking across to the similarly restrained scientists.

'Doctor. At this point I request your assistance. I'm going to release you now and you're going to go across to Mr. Finn, untie his legs and help me to escort him upstairs. You are well aware of what I'm capable of so please don't try anything stupid.'

When he finished, he reached down, cutting the ties that bound them, setting them free. As they rose from the floor, rubbing their wrists as the blood flow recommenced, neither doctor made any effort towards Xander, the futility of any such action being obvious.

As they crossed towards Riley, Xander stopped in front of the two soldiers lying nearby. A check of the pulse established that Saunders had already died, the blood loss caused by Dr Marshall's bullets proving too much. His death was almost an anti-climax, passing away peacefully, still in his coma. The second soldier, Harrison, still lived despite the severity of his own wounds.

Harrison stared back at him, too terrified to speak. He had served his country for years before coming here, had seen many things in his time, but what had happened in the last day was beyond him. He could only guess what this facility was for, who this man was, but the peaceful expression on Xander's face at least gave him some hope that he might make it out alive.

Xander looked down on him over the barrel of his pistol, a soft expression filling his eyes. The soldier before him had nothing to do with his time here, had done nothing but serve his country and obey orders. It was unlikely that he even knew what went on at these facilities, or even that the demons he had had to fight existed. In some ways Harrison was the most innocent person in the room.

With a sudden pull on the trigger, Xander ended his life.

No-one is innocent.

Xander's expression had not changed. The peacefulness that had shown on his face as he had looked in to the eyes of the wounded soldier had never changed, even as he killed him, and it was that peacefulness, coupled with the suddenness of the shot that sent the two scientists jumping in the air, their nerves already fraught.

Only Riley failed to respond, his eyes tracking the two scientists, still trying to see any way out of the situation, any way he could manipulate those in the room.

'If you please doctor?,' Xander spoke again, the twitch of his gun having more effect on the scientists than his words.

Stepping across to Riley, Dr Marshall reached down to untie his feet, pausing as he realized that there was no way he could undo the solidified plastic bindings with his bare hands. He was just about to speak when the thunk of a knife caused him to jump, impacting point first on the ground, inches from his left kneecap,

Picking it up in a hesitant motion, aware at all times that the man behind him would treat any attempt at using the knife against him with a lethal response, he carefully sawed through the ties, the jagged lower edge of the blade making short work of them, despite the slowness of his actions.

As the knife finished its actions, slicing through the last few strands of the cuffs, he carefully placed the blade to one side, away from his own body, using his body language to try to minimize any indication that he might not be obeying orders.

'Pull him up. Let's go,' ordered Xander to both scientists, including the woman in his command, the barrel of his gun matching his orders, tilting upwards as he spoke.

The two scientists obeyed, gripping Riley loosely by the arms and pulling him upright out of the chair. Had Riley resisted, there was little possibility that they could have forced him, but the sight of Xander's weapon aimed at his forehead provided Riley with enough motivation to prevent this..

As the small group marched out of the communications chamber, the two scientists holding Riley loosely by the arms, Xander following behind, Riley considered making a break for it, of using one of the scientists as a shield, despite his hands still being bound. Had it been under other circumstances, perhaps he would have done so. The fact that he was theoretically supposed to help the doctors, even to obey their orders, was irrelevant - he cared as little for their lives as he would a total stranger.

The knowledge, however, that Xander would not hesitate to shoot either or both of the scientists if he attempted to use them as shields was enough to prevent any such attempt. The execution of the soldier just moments ago served as ample proof that Xander was unlikely to care in the slightest if he was forced into such a situation.

As they made their way out of the level and back into the stairwell, Xander did not pause as he recovered the bulging duffle bag he had carried into the compound, snatching it up from its discarded position on the floor as he followed the trio in front of him.

*********

As they made their way up the stairwell to the level above, Riley ran scenario after scenario through his mind, desperately trying to see a way out of the situation, to think of something he might say or do that might convince Xander not to end his life, or at least that would give him a chance.

But in the end, all such options boiled down to two cold hard facts. The first - that there was little he could offer that Xander did not have already, or could not get for himself.. The second - that any such attempt would simply end his life all the faster.

The only way that he could see to survive was to hope that whatever Xander had on that chip would not end his life quickly. The emergency pulse signal would mean that further support troops would already be on their way. If he could last a few more hours, there might yet be hope for him, little though that might be.

*********

As the small group made their way onto the simulation level, and passed through the doorway, Xander almost hesitated once again, the memories of his time there enough to make him pause once more before stepping over the threshold.

Memories only have the power over you that you allow them though, and there had been worse things in his life than what had happened here, even if that had seemed impossible as he had held her dying body.

He stepped across, following the trio in front of him, as they made their way into the main simulation chamber.

Little had changed in the years that had passed since he had been here. The carnage of his escape had been cleansed long ago, the blood washed from the walls, the bodies removed, until no sign of his time there remained.

Upgrades were evident of course. The computer systems drastically upgraded, smaller and more powerful, the recording devices more prevalent and numerous, but the main focus of the room remained the same.

The simulator.

It still sat towards one side of the room, the wires that used to run around and through it long since replaced by short range radio and electromagnetic pulse generators. There was no need now for any physical connection to the sensory suit - all sensations could now be generated by remote, removing such need.

The straps remained, still hanging from the metal supports, evidence in themselves that experiments were still going on here, that they were still being conducted on unwilling specimens. They appeared stronger than in the past, evidence of lessons learnt, of changes made.

But in the end, it was still the same instrument. The same device that had seen his death countless times, over and over again, that had borne witness to the death of woman who had been the rock on which his life had once been built, that had witnessed what had seemed the worse that he could possibly experience.

I'm sorry Willow. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, that I couldn't do what you asked. And most of all, I'm sorry that your death is no longer the worst thing at night, that you're no longer in my dreams

'Change,' he ordered, pulling a simulator suit out of the small unit built into the wall, the suits still hanging in the same place as he remembered.

Riley was forced to obey, seeing no way out of his current situation. Even as the scientists cut the ties that bound his wrists, he was unable to change the situation, the doctor stepping back immediately, anxious to avoid an incident which might displease the dark figure that stood by the entrance. As the blood rushed back into his hands, Riley could only curse inwardly at the situation he was in.

'Doctor, please start the system. You, place him in the chair and set up the goggles,' Xander barked at the two nerve-racked scientists, ordering the female figure of Dr Rhodes to the main control board, the twitch of his gun sending the taller Dr Marshall hurrying back across to Riley, clutching the optical mask as he did so.

'I don't know how the system works,' the brunette woman pleaded. 'I've only been here a few weeks - I haven't conducted any experiments yet.'

The bullet that was sent into her left calf proved to be an ample reminder of the man they were dealing with. As she crumpled to the ground, Xander strode over until he was standing directly above her, looking down.

'Dr Laura Rhodes, age 34, transferred here from Peru 4 months ago. Responsible for the 5th generation upgrades to the simulation software last year. A member of the Phoenix project, responsible for....'

The gasp from the doctor cut off his recital of facts.

'How...?'

'I read the memo that was lying on the desk of your superior doctor. Please don't lie to me again. Now start the system - you can treat your wound when you're finished.'

The sight of the man standing over her was enough to silence any efforts she might have made at deception. His cold, scarred face alone would have been enough to send her scrambling to obey, overriding the screams of pain coming from her leg, but that face was backed up by what seemed a huge pistol, the barrel of which was aimed loosely at her left kneecap.

Given her knowledge of what he had done over the past few hours, the fact that the doctor had made any effort against Xander was surprising, but the bullet to her leg had ended any resistance in an instant. For the first time, she felt she could appreciate some of the pain that others had encountered in her years working for the military, her privileged mind unable to consider the fact that the pain she was now suffering was but a pinprick compared that which she had ordered without remorse in the past.

As she pulled herself upright and staggered to the console, blood streaming through her green slacks and then through her white coat, the second doctor was already strapping the optical mask to Riley's eyes, placing the contacts against his pupils and adjusting them into position till they turned Riley's eyes gray, the vision goggles that had been used on Xander now long since redundant.

The bullet that had been sent crashing through Dr Rhodes had been enough to prevent Riley and the second doctor of the futility of any action, and this was enough to allow the doctor to usher Riley into the simulator, loosely strapping him down.

The beads of sweat that had been forming on Riley's forehead as he began to panic were quickly absorbed by the suit which now covered every part of his body. The strange black outfit was covered in tiny dots, the millions of sensory input modes which would conduct the physical experience of any simulation standing out against the sheer surface of the rest of the outfit.

As the control board hummed to life, Xander handed the small chip to the still bleeding doctor, no longer watching what she was doing, completely confident that she would carry out his orders.

As Riley watched Xander approach him, their eyes locking through the gray vision shields, he couldn't help but curse at the reversal of their situations. For months he had been the one with the power, the power to control Xander's fate, the power over life and death, and now, all these years later, it was Xander who now held the power.

Even as he considered making one last attempt to break free and try something, anything, he felt Xander tightening his restraints, securing him in place. The restraints had been used to hold demons many times stronger than him, and Riley was well aware of this - he had after recommended it before Xander's escape.

His inner curses were interrupted as Xander spoke.

'I'm going to leave now Riley, and the scientists will be coming with me. As you've probably guessed, you're not coming with us. I'm going to leave you here with Oz's gift - enjoy.'

With those words, Xander simply turned away, leaving Riley to spit curses at his back, striving once again to break loose.

'Is it done?,' Xander questioned the doctor at the control panel.

'Yes,' she replied, her hands clenched around the bullet hole in her leg, trying to stem the bleeding. 'Just press the enter key and the simulation will begin.'

Without another word, Xander pressed the touchpad, setting the simulation in motion, at the same time ushering the two doctors out of the chamber with his weapon, ignoring the woman's attempt at protest as her injured leg was put under pressure.

*********

As they exited the level and proceeded up the stairs to the higher levels, Riley was left alone in the now darkened chamber as the system hummed to life.

If the reinforcements were sent immediately, they can get here within 10 hours. Xander couldn't have known I got the message out with the dish down. If I can make it through whatever the hell that freak's set up, then I can still make it out of here, and then Xander will know what real pain is. He thinks what I did too him here was bad? I'll show him what real pain is. Those rumors about him? I'll make them look like a fucking day at the beach. I'll find and gut his.....

Riley's inner diatribe was cut short by a muffled explosion, then another. Even as he thought the simulation was beginning, he realized that the sound was coming from still inside the compound, from the levels above him.

Oh shit!! That bastards blowing the upper levels. Even if the support teams make it here, there's no chance they'll be able to get past the wreckage in time to get me out alive

As the final huge explosion could be heard, rocking the compound to its foundations, he could still hear the emergency generators humming in the background, keeping the simulator running despite the loss of the main power.

And as his vision began to change, as the simulation began, Riley's last conscious thought, his last conscious words came out as only a muffled scream of rage and frustration.

'YOU CAN'T ESCAPE THEM FOREVER XANDER!! THEY'LL FIND YOU!!! THEY'LL FIND YOU BOTH!!!!!'

And then the simulation began, and as the shadows crept around him, as the whispering began, all conscious thought was lost, overtaken by pure fear.

All men have something that they fear. Some fear spiders, heights, enclosed spaces. Others fear pain, death or torture.

But in the end, no matter how brave a man is, no matter how well trained he can be to ignore fear, there is always something that one dreads. There is always something that lurks in the subconscious, in the dark areas of the mind where few wish to venture, that a man will dread.

The chip on which Oz had poured all his rage and pain was designed to find that something, to use the subjects own mind to create that which it would most fear.

It succeeded.

*********

It began, not with a flash of light, not a bang, but with just the opposite.

Darkness.

Silence.

Dread.

*********

There is the darkness of night, the darkness of an unlit room, the darkness of closed eyelids.

But those are not true darkness.

That of the night is lit by the stars and city lights, no matter how faint.

That of an unlit chamber is lit as the eyes magnify light in response to the weakening of other senses.

That of closed eyes is lit by synapses in the brain interpreting pressure on the eyelids as light.

True darkness is not caused by the dark but by the absence of light, and this was the darkness that now surrounded him. The sensory connections were not linking simply to his brain, but to the mind that makes up that brain. With all senses controlled by the simulation, there were no stars or city lights, there was no light to magnify, there was no pressure recorded on his eyelids to be misinterpreted.

There was no light and thus there was only darkness.

*********

There is the silence of night, the silence of a closed room, the silence of one who is deaf.

But those are not true silence.

That of the night is filled with the sounds of the night, of the insects, of the people.

That of a closed room is filled with tiny sounds, air moving, breathing, blood flowing.

That of deafness is filled by the other senses that substitute, that turn a heartbeat into a resonance.

True silence is not caused by the absence of sound but by silence itself. In the simulator, there were no sounds of night, no air moving or blood flowing. There was no heartbeat to be recorded by his mind as sound.

*********

There was nothing......

*********

The mind is not designed to cope with the absence of the senses. It will produce false images and sounds, false sensations and tastes to compensate, to fill the gap that grows to be a void.

When the mind is not allowed to compensate, how does it cope?

When meditating, the mind attempts to release itself from earthly constraints. When successful, a few minutes can seem like days.

But even under the deepest meditative trance, there is always sensation.

For Riley, the few minutes that passed were an eternity, every second a thousands years, every minute an eon.

Was this torture? Can the absence of torture be torture in itself?

Had Riley been aware, perhaps this would have crossed his mind.

Perhaps not, for the silence was broken....

*********

.....and as all silence should be, it was broken by the faintest of sounds from far away, by a whisper,. In its sensory starved state, Riley's mind was operating on instinct, latching onto that sound before it was even aware that it existed, every sense straining towards it, interpreting it in its own way.

It was felt. It was tasted. It was smelt. It was seen.

But above all..... it was heard.

A movement

A scratch.

A whisper

Above him, under him, in front of him, behind him.

The whispers would have filled the air, but there was no air, would have filled his ears, but he had no ears to hear.

Only the whispers.

And as they began to grow in volume, began to fill the void that was everything, they began to make themselves heard, vocalizing themselves.

Mere noise at first, fragments of sound, tiny fractions of words, of sentences, no shape or form, only the whispering, but as each moment passed, time ticking by slowly, one year at a time, they grew clearer.

They became words and cries. They became whimpers and pleas. They became entreaties and begs.

They became the sounds of his past, of those he had seen, those he had loved, they became those he had known, those he had cherished.

They became joy and happiness.....until they changed.

They were still the same, still those of his life, but now they were different, merging, blurring, shifting until they were those he had taken, those he had tortured, those he had killed.

Riley could no longer separate them. The sounds of his victims became those of his family, became his own and back again, filling his universe with their torment.

Torture to oneself can always be borne. It is the torture of those you care for, that you love that is the true pain, the pain that goes beyond the body, beyond the mind, that hurts that very soul that all men carry.

And it was that pain that Riley was being made to feel.

It could have lasted minutes, it could have lasted hours, it could have lasted days, but all things change....

It is one thing to hear, it is another to witness, and where once there was darkness, now came light, and with the light came the images.....

*********

As the explosions he had set were detonating beneath him, Xander was forcing the two scientists ahead of him, out of the entrance. They made it out in time to see the ground level collapse downwards, falling through the hole caused by the force of the blast from the level below, filling the air with a haze of dust.

The two scientists were numbed by what had happened, by the destruction of their facility, by the death of their friends, and in Laura Rhodes case, by the pain from her damaged leg, but through all this, Dr Marshall still had the energy, the will, to ask..

'Where are you taking us?'

His hesitant question was met with silence from the still figure beside him, Xander's scarred face showing no signs of what he might be thinking.

The trio stood there for a moment until just as the doctor was preparing to repeat his question, it was answered with a bullet.

As the cartridge passed through his leg, as he crumpled to the ground next to his colleague, he could only gaze back up at the man who had shot him without warning, the pain rendering him dumb.

'I'm not.'

Without saying another he word, Xander simply turned from them and disappeared into the jungle, the rifle he had left behind as he entered the compound collected on his way.

The howls of the beasts that they had created could be heard even as he traveled, the blood of the scientists attracting them immediately

*********

Riley had always thought that there was nothing he would fear in this world. That no matter how much pain he could be put through, in the end that was all it was - pain. But as the simulation enveloped him, a part of his mind realized that he was mistaken. There is always something to fear, and that something was here in this place, with him.

Is watching the pain you have inflicted on others come back to those you love worse than experiencing it yourself?

Riley would never know the answer to that question, for even as his mind was being filled with the sounds and the images, the first touch against his legs was beginning, a brush of contact, a stroking against his skin.....

*********

The rescue team broke through to the lower levels ten days later, digging their way through the rubble, their rescue attempts hampered by the need for secrecy.

Riley had lasted for 8 of those days by normal time.

But normal time matters little when every second is an eternity of torment, and even as Riley died, his spirit screaming, the only true awareness he still possessed was also screaming - screaming that there was still a price to be paid.

And that that price would be his soul.

*********

Even as Xander made his way through the jungle, the screams from the scientists filled the air, echoing for miles as the usual sounds that were always present were silenced by the terror evident in those cries of pain.

I killed them Willow. For Oz, for me, for you - I got them all.

And to those thoughts, to the rage and pain that were echoing though him, there could be only one response.



In that part of Xander that still guarded her soul...

For the boy he once was, for the tortured man he had become...



Willow wept.

*********



this is the end of the first volume in The Pain Series. If you've reached this point, it must have taken you a while, so please please please take the time to review both the chapter and the story so far. Even if you've reviewed a chapter before, I'd like your opinion on the whole thing..

I have plans for the next 2 volumes of about the same length, although I have not started them yet. Those of you who wish to see my plan/framework for these ideas and to contribute in turn, please email me direct - I would love to have other people's involvement and there is no doubt that the more who suggest ideas, the more complex and detailed a story I can create.

I would like to know whether it is easier to simply keep adding chapter to one huge story, or whether to break it up into volumes.

One final time - PLEASE REVIEW.