I just want everyone to know that I have no plans on ending this story before (at least) chapter twenty. Now, however, I'll be taking a break from Richard and letting you all enjoy some of the other sites of Silent Hill. Also, just to be clear on the subject, Richard will be called both William and Richard…this will depend on the person talking to him, and which "side" of Silent Hill they fight on.
This story was a challenge to write, I wanted to try write one about Walter and I feel I succeeded well. There is much more to him than the serial killer personality and I wanted to emphasize that. To do so, I ventured back to my original style of writing…fantasy. While this isn't a true fantasy story, I'm sure you can see the elements. Also, fans of the series will see a very familiar weapon. I believe it's the trademark weapon of Silent Hill. Also I managed to write an entire story without using dialogue…a difficult achievement. Enjoy!
Silent Hill Hospital, a subsidiary of Brookhaven Mental Hospital, sat on top of a hill on the outskirts of the city. When it had been built back in the early 1900's, it had been a celebration of how the town was advancing in the world. Of course, few had known that the hospital served a duel purpose.
Those without family or had few friends never seemed to survive their stay at the hospital. While there were a few that lived, mainly to draw suspicion away from those that didn't, the large majority were brought still living to an underground passageway that linked the hospital to The Order's headquarters.
The unfortunate people brought to the headquarters were always sacrificed in excruciating ways, being either an example or the center of an elaborate ritual. Most of the rituals had been lost, however, due to circumstances befalling the town.
Valuable texts had been incinerated by the wrath of Sammael against Harry, and the problem was further compounded by Richard's failure. Finally, when Heather destroyed the born infant-demon incarnation of Sammael, she had razed the head library of The Order. Some might call it luck that allowed the oldest and most important rituals to survive, Walter Sullivan called it fate.
The ritual of succession, most powerful of all the rituals able to be performed by an adept cultist still had records of the necessary ingredients and procedures. It was also in the most heavily populated place in Silent Hill. It sat in a vault able to be opened by only one given clearance by the Master of The Order. A single code word had to be spoken. A spell ensured that even under torture an adept could not speak the word to an unworthy one.
Walter Sullivan was an adept. It was in that vault that he'd first seen the beginning for the Holy Mother Ritual, and known that he must try to perform it. While Henry Townsend had ruined that particular ritual, Walter still had another chance to gain the full backing of The Order.
Unfortunately, he would be forced to pass through the most monster-infested zones of Silent Hill. He'd found William's Beretta lying amid the bodies in the boiler room, but there was something else that had caught his eye down amid the carnage.
William had brought a knife.
Walter had never sullied himself by using a gun. At even the mention of that word he snorted in disgust. Guns were the weapons of the unskilled, of those that had never developed their instincts. Walter had honed those skills and instincts repeatedly, drawing upon reservoirs of inner strength countless times until he nearly believed himself to be the god he was in Silent Hill.
Iknalth devandrianda ichiba, the Dark Wing of The Order, had been founded by Walter himself. It was a secretive sect even among those that had called themselves Master of The Order. Its very name was whispered in dark corners and mouthed in horror when the town had turned dark, for it were those that had sold themselves to Walter and his own brand of justice that had become the monsters that now infested the town. They had once been people, but now were shades of their former selves.
Among the Dark Wing, Walter had stood paramount. He was both respected and feared, commanding respect with his presence and ensuring his survival by his skill. Only the Keeper would have been able to completely destroy him, and now William had kindly defeated the only threat Walter would have in Silent Hill.
Yet he wouldn't be able to fully re-gain control of the Dark Wing until he became the new Master of The Order. Only this time he would stand supreme, not bowing to any power in Silent Hill. The creatures would worship him as if he were Sammael himself. Walter would rule with an unstoppable force behind him.
The thought brought a grin to his face, twisting his face into an even more appalling specter. Within the hour he would have the means to bring down even the Christian Church…and he planned to. Yet he would not impose the power of Sammael on the masses, but rather cast down the idols of the false religions and raise ones of his semblance.
Now though, he had to ensure he could reach the vault. A veritable host of creatures stood between him and his goal. The grin never left his face as he reversed the grip on his knife and opened the door to the tunnel linking the hospital to the headquarters.
Without pausing he stepped into the pitch blackness and closed the door behind him, wincing only at the loud click of the lock as it sealed him in. Just inside the door, his free hand found the package he'd left years before. After opening the package he removed the only item inside, a leather trench coat.
The pockets were filled with various trinkets that would help him in his mission. Two had particular value to him, the first being a bag of, what seemed to be, marbles. In reality they were filled with magnesium and phosphorus. When smashed on the ground they produced a blinding flash of white light. While not overly useful above ground they would be invaluable in the dark gloom of Silent Hill.
The second was the knife presented to him on his commissioning date. Ornately carved and inlayed with precious metal, the blade was ten inches long with a slight curve to it. Only one edge was sharpened, but had been inlayed with a special brand of steel that hadn't lost its edge in the ten years since he'd left the package. Wrapped in the back of the coat, secured by several ties, was its matching counterpart, a full length Japanese katana that he'd used in several missions during his earlier days. 'Silent Hill wouldn't be complete without a katana.' He thought smugly to himself.
After strapping the two weapons around his waist, Walter dropped the Ka-bar to the ground, smirking at the loud resonating PING it made as it stuck in the wooden floors.
He didn't flinch at the sound of the scratching creatures it brought, merely widened his grin and dropped into a crouch.
The creature that Richard had called the Jersey Devil screamed at Walter as it crawled along the wall, fingernails ripping through the rot and decay into the wooden planking of the walls.
Still blind in the dark, Walter relied on sound alone. He heard the final scratch as the Devil threw its feet out and launched itself towards him. Instinct dropped his left leg out from underneath him at the same time he brought his right arm up in an arc, wakizashi blade held tightly in his fist.. Just as quickly as he'd moved earlier, he reversed the swing catching the creature twice before it had half-completed its jump.
The knife bit deeply, sinking into the Devil's chest and ripping bloody furrows through its flesh. Again it screamed, this time in agony, as Walter went into a sudden flurry. Blows rained down on the screaming demon from all directions, each leaving another slash in its skin.
Long after the Jersey Devil had stopped screaming, Walter finished attacking it. Over the previous weeks he'd worked up much more frustration than normal. Now that he'd worked that out of his system he was ready to continue on down the passageway.
Leaving the corpse behind him he walked casually down the blackened hall. His eyes still hadn't adjusted to the lack of light, but it wasn't the first time he'd ever been forced to carry out a mission in blackness. He was the one chosen to lead the Dark Wing and The Order. He would find no fear in the night.
As he neared an area where he knew the passageway widened out, flaring to the left and right, he stopped and listened again. At first he heard nothing, but still Walter waited. Finally, after he'd grown accustomed to his surroundings and made himself a part of the darkness, he heard the shallow breathing of two more Jersey Devils. Both were hiding in the alcove above the passageway, and from the ragged sound of their breathing they were impatient…and hungry.
Walter decided not to keep them waiting.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two objects. The first was an orb, which he set gently down on the floor. Walter then used his knife to cut the piece of cloth he'd pulled out into strips. After tying the strip around his eyes he reached down and again picked up his knife, tucking the orb into his opposite hand at the same time.
Without a sound he slid around the wall and threw the orb down at his feet. In an instant the entire surrounding area was engulfed in white light, drawing shrieks of pain from the Devils who couldn't stand bright lights. Safe behind his blindfold, Walter followed the screams to his first victim.
Two flicks of his wrist ended its life, the first sending the knife blade sliding through the tender flesh of its throat and the second crossing barely a centimeter away, making an X.
The light of the orb had only lasted a split second, but had achieved two purposes. It had allowed Walter to kill one of the creatures, and destroyed the night vision of the other. Now that it had faded, the other Jersey Devil was fighting without sight. As he readied his knife again, Walter almost pitied it.
A short time later, he moved on, stepping cautiously to avoid the pooling blood that now covered the wooden floors.
He walked until he felt the air change, and then moved cautiously to the right. After looking at several structural schematics, he'd seen that there was a weak portion of the wall connecting the secret passage to yet another series of tunnels that led directly to the vault containing the ritual book.
Still wearing the blindfold, Walter unsheathed the katana and tapped lightly on the wall with the pommel. His calculations had been correct, and on his first tap he was rewarded with the hollow thud of the tunnels.
As he swung the katana down towards the planks, he wondered how easily it would be to slash his way through. The answer came a second later when the blade embedded itself in the floor, a perfect cut through the boards.
It took several more slashes until the hole was wide enough for him to walk through, and Walter could sense several more creatures coming towards him. From the aura they had around them, it was possible they were the smaller Chupas, but he couldn't be sure of the number without stopping and concentrating.
If he was going to set his trap for the little scavengers, he would have no time for the meditation to know exact specifications. Already he could hear their scuttling claws on the now stone floor, their eyes casting off a light glow.
With such large eyes, it would be difficult to blend into the walls as he'd done with the Jersey Devils. The glow could give him away, as well as their unnatural sense of smell.
After removing his blindfold, Walter saw just how close the creatures had come. He could make out vague shapes in the long tunnel, and knew that in a few moments they would see him. It was something he couldn't allow to happen.
Agile as ever, Walter coiled his legs underneath him and sprung upwards, kicking out on each side and catching himself in the narrow walls. The muscles in his legs groaned in protest, but he held himself firmly waiting for the correct moment.
That moment came as over twenty Chupas ran underneath him, stopping and sniffing the air for his lingering scent. From up above, Walter threw down a bottle of cologne at the same moment he dropped another orb. The cologne hit directly in the center of the small cluster, drawing all their eyes to the sound of shattering glass. The orb blinded all of them in a single burst of intense magnesium, only this one spit out burning shards of white hot phosphorus.
Shrieks echoed through the tunnels, only increasing as Walter dropped from his perch, blades whirling even before he'd hit the ground. Four of the Chupas were dead before they'd even registered the fact that Walter was amid them, lost in a swirl of steel.
The others reacted strongly to his presence, but found that without their sight and with the smell of cologne covering his scent they were helpless. Still, they bit and scratched at the air, sometimes hitting their own in the desperate struggle to get to their assailant.
Walter let them fight among themselves. When they'd tired themselves enough, he slipped back amid them and began another attack. With the wakizashi in his left hand and the katana in his right the Chupas stood little chance. Once, a single Chupa shook off the effects of the light and saw the blurred figure of Walter standing amid the dead. It made a single bite towards his hamstring, but was cut down before it had even covered half the distance.
With the Chupas dead, Walter sheathed the katana and used the wakizashi to cut one of their eyes out. The glow would last hours after their death, and he no longer had to worry about any more creatures beyond this point. After wiping the wakizashi off, he put it away and sprinted down the hallway.
The Order had placed several tripwires and traps amid the ancient stones, but Walter saw them easily. In his years of training he'd been the best there was, had even been given the Ronin Blades to signify his position.
Now he used that training against them, and he felt something akin to joy as he took the final step to the vault doors.
Thousands of hours had been spent in carving the stone to create the perfect ambience. Both doors had once been a single piece of flat stone, but over the years they had been chiseled down to ornately carved devils and demons. The names of all the Masters of The Order had been carved beneath several demons, representing that they had been taken by Sammael and brought to his side.
Walter Sullivan presented himself to the horrifically carved figure of Sammael and held his arms wide. If the dark god didn't find him worthy of entering, his planning would be in vain and he would be forced to wander Silent Hill eternally in punishment.
A single ray of crimson light suddenly sprang from the god's right eye, the left having been burned out by Harry in their struggle. The light played over Walter's body, carefully examining his face and the blades strapped around his waist.
Ten minutes passed and still the light played over his body. Suddenly, the light turned darker and Walter knew the final test had come. An intense burning pain flared in his body as the minions of Sammael burned out the impurities of his body. The pain lasted only a second, and then the doors swung open with the heavy sound of grating stone.
Upon entering the room, Walter smiled. Written on the wall was everything he needed to see.
Slashed in the stone were the words:
Thus they exalted his name, calling him the Master of The Order. Take thine rightful position Walter Sullivan, and know that Silent Hill is now yours.
Walter walked up the coronation corridor and turned, watching as several demons walked out of the gloom to see what new lord had summoned them. After long years of suffering, Walter Sullivan assumed the throne of Silent Hill.