Silent Hill: KAIN
By
Yo momma
Chris didn't know what was happening. Silent Hill didn't look like Silent Hill anymore; it was all a smeared, drab blur. Her head was feeling faint and she wanted to collapse to the ground and sleep, but she couldn't stop. Adrenaline pumped her legs like never before; her hands flew wildly in the little given space around her, trying to find something to wield as an effective weapon in the dank alleyway.
Her sneakers squealed and squelched over the drenched concrete walk as she kept running, lungs parched of precious oxygen. She couldn't breathe, and her eyelids felt so dangerously heavy… how she wanted to just curl up on the ground and die. At least it would cease the massive burning sensation in her chest.
The girl's hazel eyes swung quickly around the street as she broke from between two buildings. The streets were only slightly fogged, giving her a tolerable viewpoint of where to run next. A wide crater adjacent to her spot offered the awkward view of a massacred Toyota, and an equally as large carpet of blood slithering away from the scene and into another nightmarish lane.
Chris immediately fixed her eyes upon something else, stomach churning in fear and pain. Was she going to vomit? She couldn't tell; this uncontrollable dizziness had set in since she first saw the creature now looming after her. Suddenly she realized she was cold, and her legs refused to move- adorned only in a rather threadbare top and plain blue jeans, she found it a wonder how her clothes had even kept clinging to her adolescent body.
A trash can violently slammed into the ground beyond her and her mind raced. Abruptly, she bolted off, hot tears replacing the streaks of rain-induced grime and sweat.
Following close behind was a monster- approximately six or seven feet, clad in a long, bloodied butcher's gown or somewhat of the same type of cloth. Sleeveless arms hung intensively by its sides, the right gloved hand clasping a mighty sword; a knife, more or less. It was insanely oversized, the blade scratched and stained. But the most bizarre affliction to the beast's appearance was the pyramid-like helmet fitted squarely upon its head- or perhaps the thing was its very own cranium, faceless and voiceless?
From the neck down, the abomination looked like a man, wiry but muscular; standing on knee-high black boots; long, thin hands. A minute puddle of oil and water erupted into the asphalt as he stomped down into it, pausing in the very place the girl had. The elongated neck turned side to side for a moment, before he ran after Chris' retreating silhouette with explosive speed for something with an iron mask.
The windows shook slightly beneath the young woman's fists but failed to do much more; many of the doors were either barricaded or locked. Now losing hope of trying to hide in a nearby coffee house or store, Chris felt her feet slow across the sidewalk- no longer caring of the relentless pain in her body or the imminent death the Pyramid Head behind her wanted to deal out.
But as fate would have it, the 4am starlight managed to reflect the busted figure of a tiny door lock, huddled into a corner. Chris stopped, eyes tiredly lifting to the ajar double doors of the grocer. Silent thanks passed her lips and she stumbled wearily through them, and collapsed to the checkered linoleum floor. She managed to crawl a few feet into a mussed aisle before a sheet of heavy light cascaded across her meager form.
Her pulse quickened, her pupils dilated. She was far from safe now. This creature was smart, like a man. Was it? She had no time to think before the nightmare stepped quietly, mercilessly, closer. Between the time it had decided to lift its Great Knife and the time Chris rose to stand, something toppled over the next nearest shelf.
Pyramid Head was distracted and Chris made a frantic run for it. The hoarse, cracked sound of barks and growls intercepted the girl's thoughts and she was now running on auto-pilot, devoid of where she was or where she was going. A screech emitted into the stale air as one of the demons were slain, and another loud, reverberating bang as metal met solid wall.
Whatever was back there, it was battling the unseen atrocities that had namely saved her life from the same monster that could just as well be saving it again.
The sword was caked undoubtedly with blood and gore, and as he retrieved it from the body of the final undead canine, the Pyramid Head watched as massacred insides slipped from the blade and onto the ground. He had done this many times before, and it was beginning to grow old; and ever since he had Awoken back in Silent Hill, he had an undesirable compulsion to destroy… something. Someone.
He didn't know what it was or why he was back- nearly a century ago, James Sunderland had escaped, and Pyramid Head vanished. Where, he could not remember, and he decided it rather stay that way. But, within the next few years, Pyramid Head returned and something was driving him to kill. Again. Although, without the occult's provoking of the great Samael, he didn't know where to go, and wandered aimlessly through the town with no track of time.
Maybe he was stuck eternally in the Otherworld. Nameless. Obscure. Tainted. Preying. And maybe that reasoned with why no one, a soul naught, ever entered Silent Hill anymore. And because he had very vague memory of the place, every turn and corner was new. He didn't know what would happen next, and hadn't dared try the larger buildings such as the hospital and Midwich Elementary. No, not yet. He needed to train. He needed knowledge. He needed to be respected.
A scream disrupted his momentary state of thought and the large pyramid swiveled around on his shoulders. His muscles tensed, proving the surprise and adrenaline coursing through his veins with no need of expression. Expertly, the Pyramid Head pivoted, and disappeared hastily into one of the shop aisles.
Chris forcefully held a hand to her mouth, short gasps and pleas and sobs escaping dryly from time to time. The thing looming over her was eyeless; or, rather, the bulges protruding from its head looked like oculars, but with plump sleeves of flesh knotted over them. Gaping holes drilled into the sides of its face acted like super sensitive ears, which took Chris no time at all to decipher whether or not to give out another yell.
A slobbering, smacking maw bit greedily at the air. The beast was standing unevenly on one leg, or perhaps two, if it weren't for the fact that the other appeared deformed and less than half the size of the second leg. A grotesquely obese belly just nearly swept above the floor. Propping up from the skin was a wide array of needles: different sizes, different colors, each vehemently stuck fast.
The beast's arms, however, looked almost anorexic and immobile. But in truth, they were quick and willing to, if needed, bare the rotting bones by violently pulling the muscles inward. This allowed the crooked, retarded skeleton inside to show, pressing and rolling and churning against the flesh of the arm, giving it a chance to bestow a powerful blow of its makeshift bradawl.
Chris staggered back as the behemoth crawled onward, listening for the same piercing screech she let out earlier- the same noise that had caught its attention. Her outstretched hands felt along the empty shelves of the store, fingers wildly crawling around the aluminum void in search of a weapon. She wasn't going to act as the damsel of distress- she never wanted to. But this was not the everyday faerie tale one would want to take part in. And Chris was not your modern day protagonist.
She was scared, witless. Without any past recognition of how to use a gun or blade, she doubted the idea of trying to fight back. But that's when something nicked at her thumb, and her hazel eyes desperately fell to whatever was lying in wait.
An empty, shattered glass bottle with Coca-Cola printed across it.
Without thought, the girl grasped its dusty neck and held it out to the approaching monster, brows furrowing as though she was trying to look threatening. Her meager weapon was weak and liable to fall apart at anytime. But perhaps, she hoped, what she was faced with now wasn't as intelligent as the Pyramid Head in the alley. Where is it anyway…? she thought, waving the bottle mindlessly before the glob of a head the beast possessed.
"Back off," she hissed lowly, nearly beneath the ability to be heard. The thing continued to pursue her, regaining its interest once it picked up her voice.
"I said back off," she repeated, louder. She let her exhausted sneakers slow down across the crushed debris littering the aisle. The massive jaw snapped in response, and it swung its blind face dangerously close to her torso.
"I SAID BACK OFF!" she cried. Her arm instinctively lurched back and fired into the beast's face, jamming the wrecked bottle into the bulging eyes. A petrified scream bellowed into the air as the creature tossed its head back, the bones of its arms gradually lifting intensively. Chris quickened her pace and stumbled helplessly a few feet back, watching as a massive blade abruptly exploded through the overweight chest. A slight, half-gasp half-whine came from her throat as the sword turned swiftly in place, releasing more than enough gore to cause her to taste bile lifting to her mouth.
But instead of throwing up, she instead immediately began searching for another weapon, but when she realized it was the pyramid headed thing from before cutting its way through the fiend, she froze up. The body collapsed into itself and continued to bleed until the blade was retrieved from its middle. The recognizable helmet rose to meet with Chris' both amazed and frightened eyes.
Thank you! came an unidentifiable voice from within her head, and she suddenly had the urge to cry it out herself. But what was once her savior figure quickly reverted back to the uncaring, strange killer from the alleyway. A gloved hand swept Chris from her feet and stole the innate smile from her lips, before slamming the frail teenager onto a nearby wall with enough force to send a racking pain up and down her spine.
Tears welled up in her eyes as Pyramid Head brought the knife above his head, trained squarely for her shoulders and chest. His palm was still roughly pressing her against the wall, giving Chris no glimmer of escape. A quick, agonizing sob ripped from her voice box and the sword was brought back like an arrow to its bow in response.
Chris couldn't handle it. Had he saved her from the grotesque man-monster for no reason? Or, rather, had he slain it to gain access to his goal prey? She failed to see any sort of humanity in the faceless helmet now, let alone a man. The hand holding her to the concrete wall was slowly growing cold, like ice, wrenching the final slimmer of sanity from her mind.
Suddenly, a voice erupted from nowhere, sounding severely anxious and fraught. "No! Stop, please!" it cried.
Chris watched frightfully as the Pyramid Head halted dead in its motion, the lifted Great Knife gradually falling to its side. Although it lacked a face, Chris could feel it, taste it: affliction. Emotional affliction.
"You can talk?" a quiet, metallic voice muttered unsurely from beneath the helmet. Chris' eyes widened.
It can talk…?
The pressure applied to the hand died down, releasing the girl from the wall. Weak, confused, and nimble, she simplistically collapsed to her knees. Her eyes never did lose contact with the helmet.
Pyramid Head's grip tightened and loosened around the handle of his Great Knife, wordlessly, before turning oddly and walking away. Chris stared after him, wanting to follow; but her mind and legs were disobedient and she stay put until, finally, she curled up and fell asleep.
