George Maxwell smiled triumphantly as he watched the patient's form slowly raise itself up on the table. The other scientists in the room were horrified, but he was absolutely ecstatic. After years of long and painfully difficult research, he'd finally succeeded. He'd finally accomplished one of his major life goals.
The former patient, with its lifeless eyes and pale skin turned green, began to hobble its way over to where Maxwell and the others were standing. The four scientists backed away fearfully, but Maxwell merely chuckled before transitioning into full-blown laughter as the creature stalked towards him. It wasn't until it was a few feet away and preparing to lunge that he pulled out a pistol and made a mess of its parasitic brain. While the splatter of blood and yellowish ooze would've made others sick, it did nothing but further amuse the deranged man and as a result he began laughing even harder at whatever it was he found so funny. The remaining scientists in the room tried their best to follow along, but staring at the multiple bodies on the floor-some patients, some colleagues, and some just horribly dismembered from Maxwell's frustration-left them feeling too sick to even muster a cough. One of them doubled over and vomited on the spot.
Maxwell, having stopped his wild laughter, turned to look at the man heaving his guts out. Still keeping the same wicked, inhuman smile on his face, he took a few steps toward him while avoiding the contents of his stomach. "What's wrong?" he asked, neither angry nor happy with the man across from him.
Having nothing left to choke out, the scientist raised his head to look at Maxwell but did not straighten up. The others said nothing in the hopes that they would stay uninvolved. "This-this is..." He so desperately wanted his voice to cooperate so that he could speak his mind firmly, but after vomiting and now looking the terrifying man in the eyes, he wasn't sure he could keep up the nerve. It was so much easier when he imagined it.
"This is what, Johnson?" Maxwell's voice held no anger-an amazing feat for him-but it did hold something much more sinister. "Are you trying to tell me that there's something wrong with what we're doing here?"
"Yes," Dr. Johnson choked out. Deep in the pit of his stomach he knew it was perhaps the worst mistake he could make, but he could take no more. He'd assisted this demonic man in torturing people for reasons he did not want to imagine for far too long. It was time for him to say something. Even if it meant his death, he'd rest better knowing he'd finally broken his silence.
Maxwell raised a brow at the man slowly recovering in front of him. What was he thinking? By saying that was he simply supposed to stop everything and turn himself in? How amusing. He supposed he could go visit Allen Hale and apologize on the way to prison too. "And?" he offered, knowing full well that it would be the man's breaking point.
It was. Dr. Johnson, now fully recovered from his previous state of sickness, lunged at Maxwell hoping to tackle him to the ground. The other man hadn't expected it at all and was knocked backwards before stumbling over the headless body soon after. The two of them fell to the ground and Maxwell's gun skittered across the floor out of their reach. Johnson was straddling Maxwell, trying his best to strangle him. However, the other man had no intentions of letting that happen and proceeded to wrap his own hands around the scientist's neck with such strength that it couldn't possibly have been human. Johnson immediately stopped trying to choke Maxwell and instead brought his hands up to claw at the ones rapidly crushing his windpipe. A sudden flash of movement and pain disoriented him and he blacked out for a few brief moments. When he regained his senses he found himself lying on his back with an enraged Maxwell kneeling over him, one arm pulled back, ready to strike.
One of the remaining scientists, Dr. Louis, finally snapped out of his shocked daze and rushed over to grab Maxwell's arm before it could hit its target. "Sir! Maybe you shouldn't-"
"GET OFF ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" he roared. The last two scientists in the room chickened out and fled. Maxwell had never been this furious before and they weren't going to stick around to see what happened.
"Wait! Please!" Maxwell glared at him for a moment before turning his murderous gaze back to Johnson. Then, standing ever so slowly, he turned himself fully to face the man who'd intervened.
"Why?" he asked, voice shaking with rage. He looked ready to kill both of them in an instant. When he wasn't given an answer as quickly as he wanted he grabbed the scientist by the collar and threw him down next to the other. "You want me to stop?" he said with a sneer. "Then make me!" He brought his foot down hard on Johnson's neck. "Go on. Do something!" He began grinding his heel into his head. He was screaming in pain, but it only motivated Maxwell more.
Dr. Louis watched helplessly as his colleague was ruthlessly tortured. He backed himself away on all fours while Maxwell just laughed. Eventually his hand brushed something cold and he snatched it back before seeing that it was a gun, Maxwell's pistol which was discarded during the previous scuffle. Shaking lightly, he looked at the spectacle before him. Johnson's skull was near its shattering point and Maxwell was grinning manically at the prospect. Taking a deep breath to steady himself and to make swallowing the lump in his throat a little easier, he picked up the weapon. It felt cold in his hands and the fact of simply touching it sent shivers up and down his spine, but he tightened his grip nonetheless. He aimed it towards the raven-haired man's head. Just as said man saw him in his peripheral, he fired.
Time itself seemed to have stopped. After the deafening bang, silence filled the room. Not even Johnson's screams sounded anymore, which meant he was either dead or too stunned to say anything. As he lowered the gun, Louis cracked open an eye, completely unaware of when he had even shut them. Both eyes shot open upon seeing the subject of their closure. Maxwell was still standing, foot resting on Johnson's head, only now there was a trail of blood running from just above his ear down the side of his face, to his neck and under his shirt collar. His eyes narrowed at the man still holding the gun.
"Damn," Louis gasped. He'd only missed by a hair. If he had just shot a second sooner then Maxwell wouldn't have seen him and turned as he fired. Said man emitted a quiet growl from the back of his throat and lifted his foot off the scientist to begin making his way towards the one who shot him.
"Go ahead and try again," he said as the gun was pointed back at him. "However, I do recommend that you don't miss again." He saw Louis falter for a moment and took the opportunity to rush forward and swat the gun out of his hands. He then broke his wrist as though it were nothing. Louis yelped and looked over at Johnson's form with the hope that perhaps he'd recovered. He hadn't moved an inch, so the worst was assumed. A kick to the face reminded him to stay more alert. Hearing footsteps move away he forced an eye open and saw Maxwell standing over one of the tables. He held a syringe full of his Cerebral Toxin and inspected it before tucking it into his coat pocket. He then filled another before walking back over to Louis, who was still lying on the ground.
Maxwell crouched down in front of him. "Get up," he said, smiling evilly. "You've got an epidemic to spread." With that, he jabbed the needle into his arm. Dr. Louis cried out but he ignored it as he made his way to the door. As he stepped into the hall he noticed several other scientists and guards watching him. He chuckled as he strode past, amused at how they cautiously stepped back. No one said a word, not even after Maxwell was well out of the building. It was only after they heard sounds coming from the room he'd emerged from that they moved.
Dr. Louis groaned as he felt the stinging sensation spread. He could feel the toxin making its way through his blood stream, it was only a matter of time before it took over completely. Thinking back on it all, he knew he deserved it. This was what he had put others through and worse, so he had no right to come out of it unscathed. Taking what little time he had left, he apologized to everyone and everything he'd ever caused pain to. The patients, his co-workers, his friends, and his family. He made a special mention to Dr. Johnson, whose battered form still lay before him. He could never ask for forgiveness, he didn't deserve it, but he wanted to at least let them know in some way that he was sorry. For everything.
"Argh!" His head began pounding with a horrible pain, and he knew that it was over. It was becoming impossible to control his thoughts and he could feel a much darker urge overtaking him. The tempting urge to just go... kill something. Anything. His hands twitched at the thought of ripping something apart. The thirst for blood was getting stronger by the second and he soon found himself staring at the late Dr. Johnson as though he were some kind of lifeline. He wanted more than anything to stop himself, but he was no longer in control. The parasite had taken over and he was unable to resist any and all desires. He wasn't even sure why it mattered anymore. He felt his memories fade out and suddenly he no longer remembered why he'd been so hesitant in the first place.
The guards slammed the door open first, standing with batons at the ready. What they saw was not something they were expecting. What appeared to be a zombie was hunched over a body, gnawing away. "Don't tell me Maxwell did this!" They were all sickened at the sight. The creature, having heard the guard's shout, stopped mutilating Johnson's body and began staggering towards them.
"Oh shit! Is that-is that Dr. Louis?" One of the scientists from earlier stumbled back out of the room and wasted no time in running away. The others just stood there in numb horror. Was this really what Maxwell was after all those years?
"Everyone calm down," a guard said. "We'll be fine as long as we keep him locked up." He shut the door before the creature made it to them.
"We have to do something now. Someone call the police." The man who said this abruptly decided that he did not want to deal with a zombie and made a move to do it himself. However, he stopped when suddenly faced with a gun.
"No one's calling anyone," a shaky yet cheery voice said.
"Dr. Kaplan? What in the world are you doing? We need to stop this right now."
"That's out of the question. You see, Mr. Maxwell promised me I wouldn't get hurt if I did this."
"And you believed him? You're such a dumbass! Look at what he's done to Louis." The scientist gestured to the room to prove his point. "We'll all be safe if we end this now by calling the police and arresting that monster!" Just then the door swung open to reveal the zombified Dr. Louis. He lunged at the nearest person and bit them in the shoulder, causing them to cry out.
"Agh! I've been infected!" The remaining five leapt away from him. "Help me!" he cried.
"We don't know how! Just-just stay away from us! It won't do any good if we're all turned."
"You see that!" the man nearest to Kaplan said. "If we don't do something-"
"Die!" he screamed. He shot him in the leg so that he dropped down, unable to run. "All of you have to if I'm to make it out of this. You all have to suffer." It was no use talking to him. Whatever Maxwell had done or said turned him into some sort of carbon copy. He was too far gone, bent on nothing but their destruction. The other scientists and guards were forced to watch each other be brutally infected, and those who weren't so unlucky ended up with their necks broken from the monsters' violent nature. With this many already gone, it was only a matter of time before all of Memorial would be overrun.
Kaplan took a step back as the group of former humans turned towards him. Perhaps he was wrong and they were right. What if Maxwell really was lying and using him to forward his plans? He gulped when he thought of how many things could go wrong for him. Not wanting to hang around he turned and fled back to the hospital, hoping that the zombies would remain in the Pharmaceuticals Lab and far away from him.
A man in a bloodied lab coat wearing a creepy red mask was lurking in the shadows. She caught a glimpse of him before he suddenly vanished into the blackness. A sudden bright flash and she found herself standing over the bodies of several students and a teacher. Grinning like a lunatic, she laughed before everything went black again. Another flash and she was in a dimly lit room, crying softly to herself and asking for her father between sobs. She wanted to wipe the tears away but couldn't, not with her arms trapped in a sort of perpetual hug. Eventually this too faded out and just when she was sure that all the lights were gone there was yet another flash in the dark, but this time it wasn't to transition. It happened off to her right, and when she turned to look at it she saw the masked man charging towards her, huge blade ready to strike. Before she could move he brought it down hard, aiming for her skull.
Alyssa Hale jolted awake with a loud gasp. The lady sitting across from her turned and gave her a cross between a slightly annoyed and somewhat disgusted look before turning back to her magazine. The teenage girl ignored this and opted to sigh in relief at the realization that it was nothing more than a dream. Why she had recalled all of her past experiences while on the train-ride home confused her, but she supposed it was just the trauma of it all. Although she wasn't sure why there had been a man in a red Hannya mask, she was positive that she'd never encountered such a thing in her life. Sighing again she figured it best to ignore. It wouldn't do for her to get stressed before she even got to her aunt and uncle's place. She had quite a while before she made it though. The mental institute had let her out a lot later than what they had originally said and, as usual, her father wasn't able to come pick her up. Thanks to that she had to take a train. She wasn't sure of the actual time but looking out the window told her it was probably late afternoon. She wouldn't get to Uncle Philip and Aunt Katherine's house until dark.
At least I'll be able to see Michael and Ashley again, she thought. And little Stephanie too. It'd been so long since she'd seen her cousins or anyone besides her father really. While she'd still have to worry about Bates, her time with her relatives could be taken as a vacation of sorts. It was nice that she wouldn't have to deal with being bullied or attacked for a change. Leaning back in her seat, Alyssa hummed quietly to herself as the train sped on.
Claire had been in the kitchen when she heard the front door open and then slam shut. Not even bothering to turn around she said, "What's with you now, George? Trouble at work?" She had become accustomed to her husband's grouchy behavior whenever things weren't going well at Memorial. She knew that sometimes research didn't always go the way one wanted. What she didn't know was what type of research he was doing there.
She received no response from Maxwell except for his rushing past the room, most likely heading to his personal space that he kept her locked out of. Finding it strange that he hadn't so much as grunted, she followed him. Something had to be wrong. "George," she called. "Is something the matter?"
Maxwell stopped before the door the second she called him. "It's not your business," was all he gave before unlocking the door and going inside.
"What do you mean, 'not my business?'" She grabbed his arm before he could close himself off. "There's something very wrong and I want to know what."
"It isn't your concern, so don't make it." He tried to snatch his am back but she held firm. "Stop it," he said harshly.
"Make me," was her response as she looked him dead in the eyes, challenging him. Lately they'd been having problems, and it was progressively getting worse. It started with small annoyances at petty disagreements and eventually turned into full-blown fights that, despite how bad some of them had been, they couldn't even remember how they'd started. If either had to pick the time they felt it begun, both would choose around the time Maxwell had left in a frantic rush and discovered the empty graves.
"I will ask you again," he growled. "Let go of my arm and mind your own damn business." Each word was spoken with malice that should have made her stop, but she refused to quit her badgering.
"What happens at work, honey, is my business. Just as well as it is yours." She spat each word with enough venom to match Maxwell's. Both of them continued to glare at the other until finally Maxwell attempted to free his arm again. When Claire still wouldn't let go he seized the arm that was holding his with his free hand and pried it off. She made a small sound at the ferocity of it, surprised at his violence.
SLAM!
She was left alone with the wood door. She suddenly felt angry. Angrier than she'd ever felt these past eight years, or in her whole life. Something horrid overtook her then, and it was not something she wanted to stop. "Dammit George! Open this door now, you bastard!" She began pounding on its surface and trying to pull it open.
Inside, Maxwell was staring at the mask in his hands. When he had bought it slipped his mind, but he knew he'd needed it. Now that his toxin was finished and most of Memorial was probably nothing but mindless zombies by now, George Maxwell had to disappear. After all, he couldn't be held accountable for this. Not to mention that his secret work wasn't quite complete. Sure, he'd put the ball in motion and soon everyone would be suffering horribly for the rest of their lives, but there were those who deserved an even worse fate. One that could only be administered by himself. People like Allen Hale had to pay a much higher price than simply being turned into mindless heaps of flesh. This was his final step and it had to be done under a new persona. It had to be kept secret. Besides, what fun would it be if everyone immediately knew that he was the mastermind behind it all?
Placing the mask on his face he turned to the door and his wife's angered shouts. Something pulled and tugged inside him and he felt obligated to go with it. He casually opened the door.
"Wha-George? What in the world-"
"It's because everyone must die," he said gruffly, "and suffer forever." Claire looked too shocked to respond.
"What are you talking about?" she asked once she recomposed herself. "What's with that mask?"
"I just told you." She couldn't see it, but he was grinning madly.
"Enough with these bullshit games of yours, George! What is going on here?!"
"I'm expressing my identity," he said cheerfully, taking her by the shoulders and bringing her face to his. "See? Red is my favorite color!" With that he brought his hands around her throat and began to squeeze.
"George..." she gagged. Something shifted within her as well and she began clawing at his face, trying to tear off the mask and get him in the eyes. It didn't take long for Maxwell to win that struggle. Having dropped her, he readjusted the mask and stepped around her body. Although no one would guess, and he'd soon forget himself, he'd actually chosen the red mask because it represented his envy of everyone else's happiness. Something that since he could not have, had to be destroyed.
He checked his coat pocket to make sure that the syringe was still intact before walking out the door. Before he could go after Hale, he had to take care of Tate. The man would never know what hit him. Actually, no. He'd have a pretty good idea.
Ashley Tate said goodbye to her friends as she started the walk home. Normally she'd have stayed with them a bit longer, gone to get ice cream or something, but today she wanted to be home a little earlier than usual. Her cousin Alyssa was coming over to stay for a bit so she wanted to have time to make a little surprise for her. She'd heard the news of her arrest and admission into a mental institute the day after and felt bad for her. Okay, so she did murder a bunch of students and a teacher, but still. It wasn't her fault. They were probably bullying her and it was Bates who'd done it. She knew that Alyssa would never do such a horrible thing in her life. She was the only one who believed that the alter ego was more than just a 'split personality' and instead some kind of malevolent being. That was the only way it made any sense.
Ashley looked at her watch. It was only four thirty. She'd have plenty of time to plan something for Alyssa. She continued on at her pace while thinking of what to do for the surprise. She heard a noise but ignored it as she absently noted the lack of life, although it wasn't a surprise. Most of the people in her neighborhood were older and didn't have any kids around, so it was always this empty. Another scraping sound caught her attention and she turned around. Behind her there was nothing except for rustling trees and empty streets. Shrugging, she continued on.
Then she heard it. Footsteps. Someone was following her. She whirled around that instant and saw a tall figure composed of white, black, and red behind her. All she could really focus on was the contorted face of the mask though. Screw calling out to them to see what they wanted, she broke into a run. As her feet hit the pavement she still heard the footsteps behind her, only now they were matching her pace. No. They were gaining. Whoever it was, they were relentless. She started to panic as they got closer and closer. Images of her being kidnapped or killed filled her mind and tears began to form, blurring her vision. No. Now was not the time for that. She kept pushing herself forward and soon she was almost there. Once she got home she'd be safe.
Suddenly something hit her sharply between the shoulder blades and she stumbled and fell. Her pursuer had caught up to her. "Get away!" she cried. When she turned over she saw them in full. A man in all black with a white lab coat and a red Hannya mask was towering above her. "Who are you?"
Saying nothing, Maxwell pinned her down with one hand on her throat while the other brandished the syringe from his pocket. "NO!" Ashley screamed. She didn't know who or what this man was and certainly didn't want to find out what was in that needle. She thrashed about trying to break free, or at the very least knock the terrifying object out of his hands, but to no avail. She soon found it plunged deep within her upper arm and she let out a painful shriek. Once the contents were emptied into her veins he stood and let her be.
"Everyone must die," was all he said before walking away.
"Mom, Dad," she cried. "It hurts." She was so close to home and yet she couldn't bring herself to move. The burning sensation was too painful and it hurt just to think. "No," she told herself. She wanted to get home, she had to. She was going to make it home, she told herself.
Very slowly she brought herself to her knees. She was going to get home.
She was going to see her parents and siblings.
They were going to help her.
She got one leg up so far.
She was going to get home.
She was going to see her parents and siblings.
They were going to help her.
She'd managed to stand.
She was going to get home.
She was going to... to... What was she going there for?
Her family. She was going home for them. She was going to get home and... and... kill them... her family...
They were going to hate her.
Little Stephanie Tate stared intently at the statue as though it would give her the answers to the universe. She'd found it in the den when she was looking for some of her old toys and it fascinated her. The second she'd brushed its cold surface, she knew she had to have it. Something about the way it looked, the way it reflected the light on its twisted abnormal surface was mesmerizing. She wondered why her father had it so deeply hidden. Perhaps he did not like it. Or maybe he had forgotten about it. Or, quite possibly, it was a gift for her when she reached her eighth birthday. Whatever the reason, she was glad she found it. It gave her a free feeling. Like she no longer had to act like the child she was. No, was no longer. The second she touched the statue, she felt something change within her. Her mind was cleared of all its childish clutter and filled with something much more... adult. No longer was she thinking about a new game to play or having fun with her family. Now she was thinking about what it might be like if they were in pain. Pain that was caused by her. Would they scream in agony and beg her to stop? Or would they become enraged and fight her? She was curious. Just the thought made her giggle in excitement.
Looking around her room she saw nothing that would really hurt them. So she decided to find something that could. A knife, perhaps. Her mother hated the act of her simply asking if she'd like some help preparing dinner, just imagine how she'd react once she saw her sweet little Stephanie charging at her with one of the sharp silver weapons. Yes. A knife, she decided, would be perfect, so she set about to find one. And then when Ashley and Alyssa came the fun would truly begin.
A/N: Wow. This got super dark, super fast. I was kind of going for that though because I wanted to show how everything's hitting the fan all at once. The part with Maxwell and his wife I feel got a little lame, but I didn't want to leave a gaping plot hole of 'whatever happened to her?' even if she was only mentioned once before. I also wanted to play on what I wrote in their earlier chapter to make the suggestion that she was also affected by the same bacteria Allen had for Maxwell through her contact with him. Hopefully there aren't any other plot holes I've missed.
As for the overall chapter, I think it came out pretty well, my biggest concern though is if it all makes sense. It skips around A LOT, but I tried to keep it going in a clear straight line: Maxwell starts the outbreak, leaves, then Alyssa's on her way to Philip's, Maxwell's got that creepy mask of his and just started his killing spree, infected Ashley (because he apparently did stalk her and do that, according to the drama CD, and it does make sense), Stephanie finds the statue. The only thing I'm slightly annoyed I left out is Allen, although I already know how to add him in the next chapter as well as what he's been up to (although by now I'm sure it's probably obvious where he's likely to be) so it should be fine. The part where the zombies started taking over I made ever-so-slightly comedic when it came to their reactions because I just CANNOT take the zombie thing seriously. It would've made so much more sense if they weren't there. Why even put that in in the first place? I'm not sure why Maxwell actually came up with that in the game, but regardless of whether or not he was sane at the time it's still kinda stupid. I get why it would work for his goals but still, who puts that much effort into research for zombies? If you're gonna be a mad scientist then have some real goals. Take over the world or something, don't fill it with a bunch of no-brains. *yes, pun intended* It also makes it a little harder to write this when I have to add that in.
Anyway, I hope I captured the mood right, especially with the people's thoughts after they're infected and Maxwell's insanity, and hopefully you didn't die of boredom reading all this. Also, sorry about the pun. I know it's awful, but some friends just rapid-fired a whole bunch of bad puns at me recently and I guess it rubbed off.
