Chapter VII:

Operation: Out-Crazy the Crazies

The talk must've taken longer than she expected and by the time she returned to the asylum, many of the patients who were once imprisoned now roamed free, forcing her to hide in dark corners to avoid discovery. Chloe didn't care if they saw her, now that she felt confident in protecting herself, but she preferred stealth to being forthright. Waiting on a wandering lost soul to decide on a room, she took a moment to admire the man's gift to her. It looked larger in her small yet dangerous hands than it had in the previous owner's and Chloe relished the moment to use it on the person willing to cross her. Imagination delivered the visual of plunging it into a chest cavity, twisting the blade until she got bored doing so, changing the method to slicing someone's throat open. And given the waste of life in the building who deemed themselves worthy to take the life of another, there were plenty of options to choose from.

Including the key to her escape, "Jer" Blaire.

There was Big Guy.

And this lost soul wandering ahead of where she sat. Chloe looked up to a camera in a nearby corner, a blinking red dot indicating that recording still in process and decided Lost Soul would be test subject number one on gratifying her bloodlust. The camera as her "audience," she would grade herself on execution and performance, given she survived, and work to improve her sport like a Blood Olympics. A meticulous grin slyly bloomed as she stood up halfway, her knees bent to allow her to move low across the hall studying her target closely. He wasn't armed or he didn't appear to be carrying anything; his mutilated features and brown ragged clothes designated a fellow patient. Blood spatter cluttered his garb and he was talking to himself, details that were unsurprising but Chloe found herself fascinated by the spatter on his face, watching as he licked his lips repeatedly as if he savored the taste. Yeah, he's fair game. Now I don't feel so bad.

Lost Soul stopped walking, and Clo imitated ceasing immediately in track to hide behind a randomly discarded bookcase broken apart, surely by a patient to make a homemade plank as a weapon. Fuck, why didn't I think of that? These patients are subconscious geniuses. She thought, Lost Soul's footsteps approaching barely tapping the cement, deciding to walk back the way he came. Chloe internally kicked her own ass, the perfect plan backfiring before her very eyes and she was now trapped in a fight or flee debacle. The conflict seem to freeze time and blood flow to her brain, adrenaline taking the reins of her decision making process as she tried to draw up a new plan of attack.

Another second longer and you'll be dead.

The thought sent a kickstart to her legs, her hands gripped the machete tightly and without hesitation, Clo took off back towards the dark corner. "HEY. WOMAN." Lost Soul's voice was harsh, bemused but most of all, loud. A crowd of savages was the last thing needed; with alert of a feminine presence certain to incite one, there lurked danger of being ambushed in an unfamiliar environment. It was time to get this asshole alone. Visual memory dictated a room near the corner, just as dark to aid in her advantages of being small. The door slammed behind her and she immediately took refuge behind an L-shaped desk, Lost Soul ramming into the wooden hatch repeatedly until it naturally gave way crashing to the floor. At first it was silent and Chloe tried her best to mask her heavy breathing, holding her breath as she clenched her blade close to her chest, the point away from her. "HOW FUCKING STUPID DO YOU THINK I AM?!" Lost Soul refused to stay in one place; one second he seemed close and the next, he was across the room. Taking a risk, Clo peeped her head from behind the desk, attempting to see her target before he spotted her first.

Damn, it's hard to see!

Lost Soul obviously more skilled in the sport of hunt and having the advantage of knowing the wing and its rooms well, hid against the wall in a blind spot adjacent from the desk. The shadow of tight curls rose from behind the desk and his stitches cracked into a grin, displaying two ragged teeth. "GOT YOU." Lost Soul boldly gripped a handful of her hair and yanked her head onto the desk, chortling as Chloe yelped out of pain. Disorientation and nausea settled as a splitting headache sprung; her injuries agitated by the gripping pressure of Lost Soul's hands enough to propel her daze into a blind rage.

Fight back.

Chloe's arm plunged the knife above her head, her hand now pressed against fabric. Lost Soul's laughs slowly shifted to shallow breaths and his pressure on her scalp tightened. As performed in imagination earlier, her hand rotated with a sharp right angle twist, forcing the wound wider and deeper in hopes of the blade's point emerging through his back; the hand in possession of her locks dropped submissively. The blade withdrew from his body as Chloe fell to the floor and the man slumped backwards, lifelessly sliding down against the wall Satisfaction was yet to be hers, not until she confirmed the body. On all fours, Clo crawled towards him, her backside on the floor once she was close. Lost Soul no longer spoke, an echo of a haunting laugh resonant. Nothing on him stirred and in a gleaming haze, Clo stood to admire her work letting her breath return to normal as she evaluated the scene.

Eh, A for execution.

"I'd like to think if I didn't end up here and if the stage fright wasn't intense, I would've pursued a career in music. My mother got me into it pretty early, with piano classes. Music is probably the one thing that can singlehandedly apply to any moment in my life, regardless of the song. I listen to everything so I would hope so."

"Did you get into music simply because of your mother's influence?"

"Not at all. I mean the classes, no shit. I was young as shit when I started piano. Do you think I walked around with bills stacked in my OshKosh?"

Dr. Carl chuckled. "No. Of course not."

"Then why the asinine questions, Doc?" Chloe gave a light grin as she spoke. "Anyway. I enjoyed the piano so there's nothing to resent there. And it helped with voice training."

"I imagine."

"There isn't music program here? Or instruments to act as therapy?"

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Wahl. The patients here don't exactly appreciate the arts."

"I'm shocked." Chloe sarcastically replied with a roll of her eyes. "But they can learn how to sew to make body suits of human flesh. How exactly does that help?"

Dr. Carl replied with the familiar look of stale oblivion, compelling Chloe to change the subject, much to her chagrin. "You're no fun today Doc. I don't think we're going to accomplish much today."

A blood drop path spawned from her victim as Chloe progressed past the shattered bookcase towards the showers. "Who's there?" A voice startled from the steel door she approached, demanding movement be ceased until identity was established. An attempt at the door discovered it locked; whomever it was on the other side clearly wanted to keep everything out. After the brawling effort it took to get there and with other efforts vanquished, Clo surrendered in a quiet whisper.

"Look, you've no idea what this night has been like. Or maybe you do. And if you do, I'd appreciate it if you opened the door."

Silence.

"I've a throbbing headache, my face is leaking and there's this thing called a first aid in this room made for situations like this."

Silence.

"What the fuck?" Chloe's threshold for patience wore thin, an antsy finger tapped the handle of the machete and fundamentally to "fix" the silence, she'd sing a favorite of hers - Billie Holiday's cover of "As Time Goes By."

It's still the same old story. A tale of love and glory.

She listened again. Silence.

A case of do or die.

Chains rattled in accordance with footsteps.

Oxygen vacated her lungs along with the harmony in her heart, and terror stepped in as replacement. Big Guy. His breathing was rough and full of fury, a slight growl of disappointment chiming in between his usual pseudo vigilant phrases. Her whispers returned to the Stranger for a last plea. "PLEASE. THIS BIG GUY, HE'S COMING."

Silence.

A last desperate attempt at the door. Still locked. Adrenaline flooded her; Chloe was literally a mouse trapped in a corner. A corner down a bright annihilated corridor with little room to maneuver around the giant, as the last time she remembered, Big Guy was surprisingly agile. If the Stranger came as no help, then confrontation remained the viable option. She continued to sing, this time louder.

The world will always welcome lovers.

Footsteps were heavier now, stampeding in the corridor's direction. She had his attention, finishing her note exceptionally.

As time goes by.

Big Guy circled the corner wearing a satisfied grin, a counter to her serious nature on the opposite end of the hall. Chloe brought one finger up signaling him to come, the steel door meeting the nape of her neck and right wrist in possession of her machete as she rested against it. "I'm right here, big boy." The words drowning in confidence evident from her machete acquisition and no time passed the moment the words left her lips; Big Guy immediately charged at her confident from their previous encounter. The sinister look he wore faded as the head of his member was met with the tip of her concealed savior and he stopped as quickly as he started. Their eyes met, a mischievous giggle left her lips as her left hand replaced the blade and the giant watched her speechless, exposing another advantage of being the lone female: a steamy scenario of interaction with another patient, specifically a sexually repressed male. "I ought to cut your shit off." Chloe stated, strong conviction behind every syllable watching her once powerful adversary now an inferior, limp as dough in the palm of her hand. A slow stroke down eased his tension and his facial features softened. "Maybe if I had this thing earlier, we could've gotten off to a better start." She pushed the machete's tip into his inner thigh, implying a serious threat of a critical wound although she had every intention to use his compliance as a blessing.

"I think we're looking for the same thing…" Big Guy said nothing instead choosing to breathe gruffly through a lipless mouth.

"The Walrider?"

His blue eyes ballooned. "Why are you looking for it?"

"Why are you trying to contain it?" She asked, speaking as if she possessed knowledge on its presence.

It was obvious the interrogation was beginning to piss him off but Chloe's threshold for patience died the second a machete entered her hands. "Considering we're actually talking and not killing each other, let's move. You know better than anyone it's not safe to discuss this here."

"What makes you think we're talking?"

Chloe sadistically twisted his penis enough to cause a discomfort and her captive groaned, sending tingles through her body. "If you want to leave this conversation intact, I'd suggest it. Otherwise, I see a great sex toy substitution in the near future." She moaned, turning him around to walk ahead of her – one, to watch him and two, to serve as protection.

Author's note:
Please enjoy. :)

Hope to get the next chapter up before the weekend is over.

- FLCN