He was...floating? Somehow, without consuming any drugs-that he knew of, Miles found himself swimming in pure darkness. Like a bottomless pit. His eyes fluttered open to confirm whether he was awake and not in some out of body experience.

Weirdly enough, any pain that he suffered from earlier was gone, instead he was left with a tingling numb feeling. Even in his fingers, or lack thereof. There was something buzzing distantly in his ears.

Am I dreaming? Wait, think for a sec. Try to remember what you were doing last.

He remembered disabling Billy Hope's life support system, effectively killing him. And thus, killing the Walrider. At least, he hoped he did. Then he reunited with Waylon-

Waylon! Is he alright? Wait. Focus, Miles. Focus. Stay on track.

Waylon was there too. They were celebrating their victory a little prematurely. He saw a storm of mist, the same black cloud that formed into the Walrider. It was heading towards Waylon, and Miles did the first thing that came to mind.

He ran straight for it.

Now Miles never considered himself to be the smartest guy out there, far from it. Especially when it came to moments where he had to think fast. He was often jokingly told by others that his downfall was his own recklessness, his own desire to save others.

Saving people who meant a lot to him, was a completely different experience. He had lied to Waylon saying he never grew close to anyone. The truth was, he was too quick to attach himself to others-and Waylon happened to be one of those people. Miles didn't know how, but he was. He was worth fighting for. He was worth saving.

There was a lot of pain, an unimaginable pain after that. He didn't remember the exact cause of it, only that it hurt more than losing his fingers or falling through shards of broken glass windows. It was like a thousand knives stabbing into him at once. He might have screamed, he didn't know. He heard someone screaming.

Then he was in Waylon's arms, his head cradled. The words said to him were unintelligible, muffled by the ringing of static in his ears. He closed his eyes and next thing he knew he was here. Floating in darkness. In limbo.

Wait...does that mean...?

"Ah shit, am I dead?" Miles asked, his voice bouncing away in an echo. "Did I seriously just die? After everything I went through?"

No one responded. Of course.

The static seemed to be getting louder. Although his own movements were stiff, almost as though he was paralyzed, he covered his ears to stop the noise. The static didn't sound like anything understandable, just background noise twisting around his head. But something about it shifted. As though the static was fading and sounding clearer. Not a buzz, but a voice without a distinct gender. And it was coming closer.

"No. You are not dead, Host. We have been working to keep you alive."

Miles' breath hitched. "What the fuck? Who said that?" He waited for a second. "God?"

There was a ripple of static. It almost sounded like laughter.

"Who are you?" He asked again. It took a few seconds for it to reply. "Answer me."

"We are not a physical being, nor a presence, so this question confuses Us."

Miles squinted, trying to move forward and see the shadowy creature approaching him. It was about his height, and like it said, had no visible features besides a vague outline. He had only seen it in passing, running away from its horrifying form.

"The Walrider...?" He uttered. "No...no it can't be. What the ever loving fuck..."

The creature dipped their head in confirmation. "Yes, it is Us. That is the name we have used for half a century." They replied. "It is the term We are familiar with."

"Okay, that's cool and all, but what are you doing here? More importantly, what am I doing here?" He scratched his head. "All I can remember is you attacking me. So I'd like some answers. As long as you don't tear me apart limb by limb."

"We would never do that to you," The Walrider almost sounded offended-if a nanite monster could be offended. "We told you that we are keeping you alive. We are working now to heal your wounds as we speak."

Miles gave them an incredulous look. "Why?"

"We exist only with the help of a suitable host keeping the cells functioning around Us. The scientists who made Us, insisted we had a parasitic relationship. This is not true. We help our host grow stronger, more powerful."

Right. Miles recalled Waylon mentioning that about the Walrider. "Can you cut to the chase? What does that have to do with me?"

"Our original Host...Billy Hope... died. We assume you know about that."

Miles nodded weakly. He didn't like where this was going.

"Our lateral ascension was brief, but it gave us the freedom We so desperately needed. Then it was gone, like that. We needed to find another subject. Another host as quickly as possible. Without a host, We cease to exist. They are our primary function. It had been many years since We last lost a host, so We were left in a panic. Until We saw you. The one who caused the destruction of our previous Host. You were the one."

"That's why you called me the host," He nibbled at his lower lip, eyes widening. "Wait. Does that mean...?"

"Correct. You are our new Host. You were not our first choice, however We are willing to compromise."

His stomach twisted into knots. "No...no...fuck no that is so wrong."

"We are never wrong, we are technology created by Murkoff and you are our Host."

"Stop saying that!" Miles hissed. "I am not your Host! So kindly, fuck off!" He swatted his hand at the wispy black cloud, but it refused to disappear. Stupid, stubborn, snarky piece of-

"We heard that."

"Gah!" He yelped, retracting his hand away to smack at his head. "You can read my thoughts too?"

"Of course We can, We are part of you. We see your thoughts, your desires, your dreams."

"That is a serious invasion of privacy!"

If the Walrider had eyes, they would probably be rolling them. "Stop being difficult, Host and listen to Us. We understand the adjustment period is difficult, it was difficult for Billy too."

"Fuck the adjustment period!" He snapped. "I am not your host! I am not a weapon! I'm just a reporter for Christ's sake! There's an error in your system, I'm not supposed to be whatever this is," He gestured wildly, before glaring at the dark abyss. "I need to get out of here."

He felt a cool chill clasp around his shoulders. "Stay still, Host."

"Don't call me that. My name is Miles."

"Host," The Walrider repeated irritably, earning a hard glare from Miles. "We will help you get out of this state, but first you need to relax. You are our Host now, and We need you to behave. We chose you because you are the perfect fit. You are strong and active and have experienced similar horrors that our previous Host faced."

'What if I don't want to be the host?' He thought.

"It is not about what you want." replied the Walrider. "You must accept your-"

"Get out of my head!" Miles roared, clenching his fists and bashing them against his temples repeatedly. "GET. OUT. GET OUT!" His breathing became erratic with frustration, confusion and rage. "If you think for one second I'm gonna be jumping for joy at the prospect of being some creepy parasite's host, you're dead fucking wrong."

There was a moment of silence. The Walrider huffed. "We are not a parasite. We are a series of nanites composed by computers-"

"Whatever!" He threw his arms up in exasperation. "I want no part of this bullshit. How do I get rid of you?"

"...The same way our previous Host lost contact with Us. But We do not recommend that."

"I'll keep that in mind," Miles did not hesitate to mutter under his breath. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Not that he wanted to do...that. But he wasn't sure how long he could take. So far, he didn't feel any different than before, besides the lack of pain. "I'd rather be dead than this."

"You do not mean that," They insisted, static sounding sharper. "You have always been destined to survive the horrors here. Why give up now when your life is about to change for the better?"

"Are there any benefits to being the Walrider?" He found himself asking instead of answering the previous question.

"As We told you, We have been working hard to keep you alive. We keep you safe, Host."

"Wow. My hero." He said flatly.

"Your injuries have healed, haven't you noticed?"

"I mean, yeah..." Miles said, holding his hands up and looking at them closer. Aside from the numbness in his fingerless stumps, he couldn't help but see they weren't bleeding anymore. When he took in a breath, the uncomfortable flinch of his cracked ribs were nonexistent. "You did all this?"

"We are still working hard to rebuild new cells, but yes."

"Huh. Thanks. Can I at least have my fingers back though?" He raised an eyebrow, watching small black tendrils swirl around where the bleeding used to- should be. He wiggled the invisible fingers.

"Unfortunately, there are some thing We cannot do." The Walrider replied, almost sounding regretful. "Regrowing limbs is another process entirely."

"I see." Miles replied, without fully understanding what had just been said. "Can I ask one more question?" The Walrider did not reply, but he took it as a confirmation. "This place we're in right now. What is it? Is it like...limbo? Am I asleep?"

"Your subconscious is not yet awake, but your body is. If you continue to flail around, you will not wake as quickly as you might like." The Walrider mused. "Any anxiety, any uncertainties you are feeling need to cease in order to function properly. You will feel better once you relax."

"Kinda hard to relax after everything you just told me," Miles retorted. "My heart is like a jack rabbit right about now. I'll try though."

"We are currently slowing your heart rate down."

He was getting a bit tired, even relaxed a little. Maybe the Walrider really was trying to help. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to not yawn.

His vision was still clouded, but he saw a new figure standing below him. He frowned, watching him move around the Underground lab and rant. He was a man with the largest forehead Miles had ever seen and dressed like a white collar business douchebag, probably he worked with Trager while he was alive. Judging from his attire and the way he towered over with his head held high, he looked important. Or at least, thought he was important.

The man bent down towards the crumpled, weaker man near him, with a sneer full of condescending pleasure.

"Listen to me, Waylon. We're both reasonable men. I'm so kind that I'll let you run home free and clear your name."

Waylon! Miles nearly screamed, finally realizing the fallen man was his friend.

Unfortunately the other man continued to speak. "You'll be able to find plenty more jobs after this. You won't be blacklisted, and you won't have Murkoff coming after you. All you need to do is delete all the footage from both those cameras."

His suspicions were correct. Mr. Douchebag was in fact a Murkoff rat. Judging by the way he acted, he was definitely a higher executive.

"What do you say?"

Come on, Park. Don't give in to this asshole.

Waylon stood firm, glaring at him. "I'd never do that. If you think I'm gonna sweep your shit under the rug, you're out of luck. I don't care about my reputation unlike you, Blaire."

'Atta boy, Park! Now all I gotta do is get his attention. Can he even see me?'

"No, neither human can see you or Us. Yet. Keep listening."

To be honest, Miles had complete faith in Waylon's ability to beat the shit out of Blaire. Sure with his leg it would hinder his fighting a bit, but naturally all he needed was a quick swing in the man's nuts and then he would be golden. Then Miles would sweep in and save him.

That did not happen. Instead, Blaire started threatening him. Okay, no biggie. Surely he wouldn't actually fall for that.

Blaire spoke again. "How about if you don't delete that footage, I'll have Murkoff come after your loved ones. Say...for example, your fiery wife. What was her name? Lisa?" He paused, lifting his finger and grinning. "Or maybe your sons..."

"No..." Waylon uttered.

"Fuck me, we lost him," Miles groaned, smacking his forehead. "He's gonna ruin everything all because he wants to protect his wife and kids. What do we do?"

"We?" the Walrider repeated, startled. "We are going to do nothing and let these humans deal with their own issues."

"No way! Park's my friend. Kinda." Miles twisted his head around and scowled. "Come on Walrider. Do your thing."

"Which human should We destroy first?"

"What? No! I don't consent to killing either of them! Jesus."

The floated individual seemed to shrug, before motioning towards Blaire, who seemed to still be waiting.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Please." Waylon fell to his knees. "Don't hurt them. I'll do anything. I promise."

Blaire's smile twisted into something truly sinister, and it made Miles disgusted. A glimmer of something sharp and silver sat in his pocket, but his movement was so quick that he almost missed it. "Excellent. I knew you would see it my way. Now, let's make sure you keep to that promise."

Waylon's eyes went wide, as did Miles' and he could hear the man yelp in alarm.

Blaire ripped the knife away from his pocket, swiftly plunging the blade into Waylon's stomach. "Fucking die already!"

The second the knife sank briefly into Waylon's side, immediately calling for Miles to spring into action. He blinked rapidly, flinging his body forward and grabbing ahold of the screaming Jeremy Blaire. He caught a glimpse of the man's horrified expression and grinned sadistically.

Kill him. Make him suffer.

"What the- how did it get out? How did it-" He gasped, struggling to break free from the cyclone of nanites. With enough power formed through his own rage, he didn't let him scream before tearing the man apart bit by bit. Ripping him from the inside out was so delightfully satisfying-and efficient too. He even managed to cut the man's own screams off.

It was pure pandemonium afterwards. Jeremy Blaire's blood proceeded to explode like a fountain spraying from the walls. What was left of his body, was a mutilated mess of a jutted ribcage, exposed bone and tissue, and organs contorted and destroyed. There was no resemblance of the same smirking man before.

Miles found himself on the ground, shaking all over beside Blaire's remains. He panted, straightening his posture ever so slightly. He flinched and jumped away from a stray intestine sitting next to him.

"What the fuck did I do..." He exhaled a strangled breath.

Something nudged him. "Excellent work, Host. We are very impressed."

"No...no...no...tell me we did not just kill a man!" Miles whipped around to face the nanite cloud angrily. "You said I would feel better! How is this better?" He clutched his stomach and gagged. The stench was terrible. "Oh god, I'm gonna be sick."

"We are confused. Does destroying a worthless human not make you happy?"

"Actually, no it doesn't!" He snapped, gagging again as he forced himself to swallow the bile building up in his throat. "Why did I do that? Did you make me do it?"

"No. We only assisted. You were feeling an intense emotion, anger, against the human working for Murkoff, so we made sure that he would be eliminated."

"Yeah, because he stabbed Park-" Miles shot up. "Park! Oh shit shit shit!" He dismissed the corpse of Blaire and ran back for Waylon, who was miraculously still alive. His jumpsuit was stained brown, but he was breathing. "Hang on, Park, I'm here."

Instead of thanking him for his chivalry, Waylon actually screamed at him. Unintelligible, terrified screams but still.

"Woah, hey," He crouched down and held out his hand. "It's me, Miles! Remember? I'm not gonna hurt you," Waylon continued to scream. "What's the matter with you? Besides the obvious, I mean."

Park could only manage some raspy gurgling noises, which was not at all helpful.

"Okay..." His mind was racing. "What do I do?"

"If it were up to Us, We would suggest leaving the weak human behind." the Walrider quipped.

"Remind me to never ask you for advice."

"You're stuck with Us whether you like it or not."

"Fuck you," Miles retorted. Since Waylon was still shaking hysterically, and the Walrider was not giving any helpful suggestions, he took matters into his own hands. He lifted Waylon bridal style, something he previously could never do before. The man, at long last stopped screaming, only to promptly faint dramatically in Miles' arms.

"Are you kiddin- okay, fine, whatever," Miles huffed. It wasn't like Waylon was heavy, quite the opposite. He started to drift through the Underground Lab's halls, his legs refusing to budge but instead maneuver like a ghost.

Black tendrils swirled around him and there was another ripple of static. "Don't say a word." He warned before they could speak. He didn't want to be lectured right now.

"We are not going to lecture, We were only trying to help you, Host. Even if We do not know why you saved the weak human, he is important to you."

He ignored them and continued to fly silently until they made it to what remained of the Administration Block. "Are you helping me fly too?" He asked.

Controlling the swarm was annoying, he discovered, but flying was pretty cool.

"Yes, Host, We are helping you fly."

"I feel a little dizzy...disoriented."

"Only because this is your first time flying. With practice you will be less clumsy. Hopefully."

He ignored the not so subtle jab and glanced wearily at Waylon's unconscious form. "I really hope this doesn't count as kidnapping. Nah, I'm doing it for a good cause. Jeez," He grunted. "I didn't even know I could carry him. Or anyone."

They didn't respond, although they seemed amused with his confusion. Whatever the Walrider did when it possessed him, made him stronger. He felt it in his bones. Flight...super strength, superhealing. He was a goddamn superhero. The only issue was his uncontrollable murder on Jeremy Blaire. Not that he didn't deserve it because he absolutely did.

With daybreak approaching through the fogged clouded windowed doors, Miles' nanite cloud wisped through with Waylon in his arms, lifting them out of the asylum for good.

He would have to worry about that later.

Miles landed abruptly on the dusty grounds, taking in the scene before him. A rich golden sun peeked over the mountains, the first glimpse of light he had seen in a long while. It was breathtaking. But he couldn't waste time admiring the horizon. He pushed on. Without his injuries and exhaustion, he would manage alright.

Military vehicles stood parked, thankfully empty of any agents, but they had been raided. Somehow he had just missed them entering the asylum, which was beyond relieving. That was one issue he did not want to deal with right now.

"If the humans in uniform try to attack, We will stop them." commented the Walrider.

"Hush, you. We've killed enough people today." Miles adjusted Waylon clumsily in his grip, maneuvering past the fountain in the middle. His eyes lit up when he saw his beloved red jeep still parked, keys still left on the outside. "Thank god. Missed ya, old girl." He cooed, then remembered he had a mission.

He carefully placed Waylon down and started to unzip his jumpsuit. The stab wound wasn't deep, but it would need serious medical attention. Not to mention his leg... "Walrider, can you do your healing thing? I probably should have asked that sooner."

"No."

He spun around, exasperated. "What do you mean 'no'?!"

"We cannot save the weak human. We can only protect you, Host. He is not connected to Us."

"Are you seri-" Miles ran a hand through his messy hair. "I can't let him bleed out! Walrider, do something! I command you to-"

"Even if We wanted to, We cannot. Leave him, Host, he is not worth it."

"That's not an option," He snapped, twisting the key and opening the door. Checking the dashboard and all the compartments for anything medical related. Nothing except some SpongeBob band aids. That wouldn't do. "Put him in the back of the jeep, buckle him up and lie him flat. Oh and-" He ripped org a part of his shirt, generously wrapping it around his waist to stop the blood flow. It was already starting to seep through, staining it a bright crimson. "That'll work for now. Go ahead and put him in the back, Walrider."

"Why should We?"

"Because, I need to take him to the hospital!"

"We do not appreciate being bossed around. You are still new to this arrangement, and We will not do everything you command-"

"Just do it!" His raised voice caught the Walrider off guard. "Look, I don't like you, you don't like me, that's fine and we're gonna have to deal with that later. But we both want to leave here, right?"

The Walrider hesitated. "Correct."

"Then help me. I'm not leaving without him. We...we have to learn to compromise. This guy-Waylon, is the key to ending Murkoff for good and I cant do it without him. And he's my friend. So please, can you help us both?"

They blinked. "You wish to dispose of Murkoff?"

"Er... yeah?"

"Then we will help right away." The Walrider fused more nanites together and lifted Waylon gently into the car without so much as another complaint. Miles wanted to ask about their sudden change of heart, but decided that would have to wait. He turned the keys into ignition, rolled down the window, and started to back up.

The Walrider floated nonchalantly into the passenger seat once Waylon was settled. "Do you know the way to the human health center?"

Miles snorted. "No, but I got a GPS. Let's do this."

Leadville Hospital was, thankfully not too far a drive once they left the mountains behind them. The faster they got away from Mount Massive, the better. He loathed that place more than he ever thought he would.

Waylon occasionally made soft moans in his sleep, but he didn't mind. It confirmed he was still alive, if barely. He drove as fast as he possibly could, knowing that he didn't have much time. Thankfully the Walrider didn't make any sassy comments all throughout the ride.

He pulled into the hospital's parking lot, double checking the signs around to see if it was the right place. It was, so he settled into the park, leaping out of the car and ripping the door open. "Okay!" He clasped his hands together. "Here's the plan. You stay here while I bring Park to the hospital. I'll just hope he doesn't tell them everything about himself or what happened. "Can't have him putting

himself in danger."

"Host."

"Although he is a bit of a blabbermouth..." Miles hoisted Waylon over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Host."

"On second thought, maybe I should wake him up and explain what I want him to do. Do you think that's reasonable? Sure he got stabbed but I figured he's willing to listen-"

"HOST!" The Walrider growled.

"What?" Miles nearly dropped Waylon on the concrete and glared at the Walrider. "I told you to stay back, Walrider, regular humans will freak out if they see you."

"Yes, We know, but there is a human already here." They chuckled, fading back into the jeep before Miles could sputter a response. Sure enough, there was a woman in a nurse's uniform heading towards the entrance.

"Jokes on you," He grumbled, as he marched over towards her. "Maybe she can help us.

"Miss? Please-my friend is badly injured and needs medical assistance." He not so graciously dropped Waylon on the concrete. "Can you bring a stretcher or something? I can stick around as a witness too."

"Sure thing, let me-" The nurse turned around, casual but still alert. The second she saw Miles and Waylon, her entire demeanor changed. Her eyes went wide in panic, and she let out a scream.

"Yeah, I know, he looks really bad. He was attacked and needs-"

But she wasn't screaming at Waylon's condition like he initially thought. She was screaming at [him]. Like he was some kind of-

"Monster!" She screamed again, trembling all over. "Help! I need help!"

"Aw crud." Miles didn't know why she was freaked out by him, but he certainly didn't need her messing things up. The problem was, he didn't know where to run.

"We will help you, Host." And a warm tingling sensation overcame him. Dark swirls surrounded his entire body as he faded from view.

The nurse had brought back two more nurses, a man and a woman and was rambling to them.

"There was this- oh I don't even know what it was but it was horrible!"

"Hannah, we need to focus on the bleeding man first. Help me get him on the gurney." The other female nurse said, already helping Waylon on the gurney. Thank Christ, at least someone was being reasonable.

"What did you think you saw?" asked the male nurse.

"I don't...I told you I don't know. It was right there and now-" She shook her head. "Nevermind, Liz is right. Let's just go inside. He needs treatment."

Once they left, the Walrider reappeared innocently and tilted their head.

"What the hell was that about?" Miles glowered at them.

"What was what about? We shielded you when the other humans came out."

"It doesn't matter! That one nurse saw you anyway!" He exclaimed, exasperated. "I told you to stay hidden. You had one job!"

"We did stay hidden, she never saw Us."

Miles was confused. He started to walk back to the jeep, not acknowledging the nanite cloud following him. "So, what did she see?"

"She saw you, Host. In your current form."

"Me...?" He echoed, stumbling towards the car windows and glaring at the reflection. His reflection. But he didn't see the face he woke up to every morning when he brushed his teeth. He didn't see the same Miles Upshur, whip smart, twenty something year old ready to take on the world.

He saw a pale husk of a man. Dried up like a fruit left in the summer, or like a body found in a coffin. Nothing living resembled the face he saw. His cheekbones were pointed and his eyes were sunken. His hazel pupils were now swirling in pitch black darkness.

He saw a monster.

"Goddamn." Miles backed away from his jeep. "I'm a fucking Spirit Halloween reject."