Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is created by Monolith Productions, published by Vivendi Universal Games, all rights reserved.
English is not my native tongue, so I would love to hear any corrections/comments, ENJOY.
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2 months after the Auburn incident...
Twilight approaches, and in this time of the season, this manner of weather, darkness falls swiftly on Facility 113, a Supermax prison built to contain the most harmful individuals in the country. In here, there are no exclusive solitary confinements, for every standard cell was designed to hold their captive in complete isolation: soundproof and lightproof, away from human interactions, and even nature itself. Amongst one of the many identical, indescribable hellish cell, on its bare concrete floor, and under the watch of its camera, kneeled a silent man.
Of all the local residents of Facility 113, he was the oldest. Not in terms of age, but he was the one who remained here longer than all others. A middle-aged man, while bald like all his neighbors, his time in this confinement had also rendered his face featureless, stony and mask-like. His skin was as pale as the sickening moonlight, but beneath them wrapped strains of gritty, unfitting muscles, results of having all the time in the world to spend on anything. But he no longer prayed to have the chance of using them on the guards. He no longer prayed for a chance to escape. He no longer prayed for the hastening of his execution. He had stopped praying for his own end.
In the control room that resembled one for space programs, before the rows of countless monitors, the uniformed guards were in the shock of their lives. Beyond all feasible theories, the host of monitors begun to fall into disarray, loosing their sights of the prisoners and areas of the compound, until all that were displayed was a sea of flashes. One of the guards was already shouting frantically into the phone. From the interior lightings of the hallways and the warden's room, to the exterior lampposts and the watchtowers, none were omitted to a series of eerie interference. Outside the 13-foot high razor wire fences, the once vicious attack dogs whimpered by the feet of their puzzled handlers. The entire fortification became consumed by a wave of unseen dread.
Back inside the same little cell, it's encased room light glimmering, the silent man looked up. Before his lifeless eyes, beyond the heavy and dull steel door, he thought he heard a chilling, almost inaudible voice, in a tone he had dearly missed:
"Free. You are free,"
The indestructible door opened. The man widened his pupils to meet his liberator, but instead he was embraced by a strangling sense of disturbance, a gruesome dominance over both his mind and flesh. The small, almost inaudible voice continued to haunt him:
"Lead them, I will show you,"
In a surreal rage, his scream echoed across every corner of the facility. Breaching every hard-boiled structure, his cry reached his fellow isolated inmates. In response, their motions froze in mid-air, their heads tipped upwards, and their eyes turned demoniac. The guards did not detect this outburst of phenomenon. They ran hysterically all over the building, barking helplessly into their earpieces. A herd of guards made their ways toward the armory, seeking the heavy equipment for the worst. But none of them managed to get their hands on them, for the reinforced hydraulic doors suddenly slammed shut, and in a hideous accuracy crushed the head of pack. The remaining guards, petrified in horror, never saw what soon sweeps upon them, which altered them into a pile of steaming skeletons, drenched in their liquefied flesh. The interior of the control room was now vandalized, with clusters of human blood flung in all directions. In one particular row of monitors, their screens displayed the columns of cells in all sections of the prison. In a simultaneous, synchronized act, the cell doors unbolted.
Twilight had encumbered Facility 113. No guards can be seen patrolling its premises, and the illuminations of the watchtowers were no longer in motion. Deep inside the Supermax prison, on a blood-soaked carpet floor, a group of statue-like prisoners encircled a ruined body. Beside it, kneeled a busy man dressed in an unfitting set of office clothes, splattered with gore. As he finishes his task, he stood up, and bore a face that did not belong to him.