Chapter 2 – Hot Detectives, Rusty Chainsaws, and Crumbling Cities
Visions of silver waltzed before my eyes. Sunflowers in a vivid, golden field danced in the breeze while I twirled in a white dress, red pigtails sailing behind me. The sky was a vibrant blue, cloudless on a warm, summer day. A ten year-old boy with hair so blond that it was almost white grinned back, eyes alight with joy that he rarely found in the company of others – except his sweet sister. Clad in formal attire, the scene was surreal, worthy of a artist's design. He reached an alabaster hand down towards me, palm up as he awaited for me rest my delicate one in his.
"C'mon, Ali," he called. "It's time to go."
I found myself pausing as I gazed upon the boy, delight bursting within me. I couldn't help but feel a distinct amount of adoration for him. My tiny, eight year-old hand gently placed itself in his. All that mattered was that I was with him, my best friend.
Hand in hand, we strolled in the direction of a wooden barn.
I woke up. An extremely vivid, white light greeted me, causing me to shield my eyes from the blaring intensity. Once they had adjusted, I discovered I was lying in a small, brightly lit room on hard tile. I placed my hand on the ground to support me as I propped up to look around. As I rose, I felt the sharp pain of a migraine pulse through my skull. Quickly massaging the area, I released a deep groan of extreme discontent.
With the memory of the attack, panic rose within me. I looked about the room for any sign as to my location and noticed the various hospital blinds that lined the walls. A metal desk to my right contained miscellaneous medical books and bottles of medicine. There was a medicine cabinet that held other paraphernalia to its right, and on its left was a file drawer with a small rolling table blocking the very front of it. The room itself was disgusting from decay and filth. Despite this, I knew that this was still Beacon Mental Hospital, just aged from lack of maintenance.
How long was I out?
A mechanical roar came from somewhere behind me, albeit at a distance. Not eager to find out the source of the noise, I quietly made my way to the door in front of me. I clutched the silver handle and turned, the door eerily creaked as it opened.
Off I went into the great unknown, taking feeble steps through the doorway and into the long stretch of corridor outside. Abandoned wheelchairs and gurneys were scattered about the hall; I carefully maneuvered my way around them in order to not attract any attention with unneeded noise. There at the end of the hall was my ticket to freedom – the gated elevator that would take me back to the lobby.
Bang!
I turned around and watched as the door that I had just come from burst open. A man at the very end of the hallway came limping in my direction at a fast rate, severely struggling with each labored step. He shoved the wheelchairs out of his way and rolled over the gurney, dodging an attack. I stood dumbfounded at what lumbered after him.
A behemoth of a man, if he could even be called that, completely covered head to toe in blood and other filth chased after him. In his hands, he held an equally bloody and rusty chainsaw; from this, I soon realized the origin of the roaring noise. His face was concealed by a muzzle that covered all of the lower portion of his face, exposing his beady, white eyes. He wore a dingy wife-beater that looked as if it hadn't been washed in years. Broken manacles chimed from his wrists. The spike covered dog collar around his gigantic throat gave the impression of a mad dog on the loose. Ungodly growls and bellows erupted from behind the confines of the muzzle, further adding to the image.
I repeatedly pounded into the button on the wall for the elevator door to open, cursing at its slow reaction. Once the gate slid open, I hopped inside the car. The man and the monster were nearing me at an alarmingly fast rate. "Get in!" I shouted as I ushered the injured man inside, holding the gate open.
He dived inside, landing on his side. Almost as if on cue, the gate slammed shut on its own. The chainsaw slashed into the metal bars, sparks flying in all directions as the sadist attempted to break our only barrier. I screamed and landed in close to the same position as the man that accompanied me. Finally, the elevator rose, leaving the maniac behind.
The dark-haired man proceeded to scoot himself until he was leaning against the back wall of the elevator car. Feeling a momentary rush of relief, I copied his actions. He took out a pack of cigarettes, which I eyed with interest, before finding it empty. With a groan of frustration, he crushed the pack and threw it into the wall. Both panting, we sat in silence until we reached the first floor. In those brief few seconds, I took the time to study him.
He wasn't bad looking, rather handsome even. Well, I mean, he would've looked better if he hadn't been covered in sweat and blood. Not to mention the fact that he looked about my age. His jet black hair was slicked back yet tousled from the run-in he had with the chainsaw-wielding lunatic, but still somehow managed to stay somewhat neat. He had a manly, gritty stubble that further added to his rugged masculinity. His eyes were a deep shade of amber that made his gaze seem imperious and penetrating, aloof even, yet were spellbinding me with every glance in my direction.
His sharp cheekbones complimented his flinty, angular jaw. He had an air of dominance and debonaire. He sported a well-worn, yet stylish getup: a sleek black vest that hugged his muscular physique, a ¾ sleeve shirt that tightened at the muscles of his biceps and was partially unbuttoned at the top, just enough to see a peek of dark chest hair, and an askew red tie.
Alright, I'll fully admit that I thought he was hot. But soon, to my chagrin, I noticed the wedding band on his left ring finger and any hopes I had in that moment were dashed.
The gate opened, and I realized I had been staring at him nonstop for the past twenty seconds.
He cleared his throat, snapping me out of my gaze. "Thanks," he uttered awkwardly, still out of breath from the run in with the sadist. His voice was deep and modulated, matching his attractive appearance.
Before I knew it, he was standing to his feet and offering me his hand to help me stand. I felt a blush creep across my freckled cheeks as I placed my hand in his, a feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed me as I remembered the dream that I had just before I had woke in the office. It was strange…I hadn't thought about that boy in so long…
Remembering the man I was currently with, I took advantage of his chivalry as he helped me to my feet. "N-no problem," I unattractively croaked, throat dry from being parched.
He eyed me with a careful glance, taking in my attire and dazed state. "You were there during the massacre? Can you tell me what happened?" he asked. It was then that I noticed the badge signifying his rank as a detective; yet another swoon overtook me.
More memories flashed before my eyes – those of my coworkers and former patients. Blood; screaming; terror. Silver eyes. Sobs escaped my lips despite how hard I attempted to regain control. "I don't know…I heard screaming, and then I went into the hall and saw all the bodies…," I squeaked through tears.
"It's alright," the detective assured. He led me out of the elevator. "We need to get out of this place before it completely falls apart."
I nodded as we began to walk down the hallway. With the severity of his limp, I finally noticed the extent of his injury.
"You're hurt!" I cried at the visual reminder of his pain.
He groaned with every other step, obviously trying to hide how uncomfortable he was. Though he struggled, he was still fast enough that I had to speed up to match him. "It's not that bad. I'll take care of it later," he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm a nurse. When we get to safety, I can help attend to your leg-"
Suddenly, the hall began to quake around us. The ceiling began to crumble and the glass from the windows shattered. I instinctively grabbed on to the back of his vest to keep myself up, which resulted in us both falling on the floor. I landed on top of one of the police officers that lay dead upon the ground, letting out a small scream as I realized my predicament.
The detective groaned as he got back up on his feet. While I continued to stare at the dead officer, I felt a hand grab my arm and drag me back into a standing position.
"C'mon! We need to go!" he ordered.
While sprinting for the front entrance, we dodged falling debris that threatened to crush us. I struggled to keep up with the detective as we bolted through the lobby until we made it out the main door.
We watched in astonishment as the skyscrapers of Krimson crumbled and plummeted to the ground. The a gigantic chasm opened, sending cars, street lamps, buildings, and all kinds of various city structures deep beneath the earth, never to be seen again. Fires broke out in the distance, causing smoke to turn the once blue sky to a deep shade of gray. It was nothing short of a catastrophe; we witnessed our home become nothing short of an apocalyptic world.
In reverse, an ambulance came racing in our direction, hitting the car to its right and narrowly missing falling within the abyss itself. The police officer inside called out to the man with me.
"Detective! Get in! Get in!"
Glass from the windows of the hospital shattered above us; we narrowly dodged the shards as they came pouring like rain. The ground cracked beneath the vehicle, attempting to swallow it whole. However, the man behind the wheel sent the ambulance into drive, pressing his foot to the gas. Tires spun but the vehicle didn't move. Finally, they gained traction and propelled the ambulance forward.
The detective and I were forced to sprint once more to catch up. He dived in through the passenger's side window. As soon as he was inside, he grabbed my hand and yanked me in with him. With a squeak of surprise, I landed on his lap.
Up ahead, we plowed through the hospital gate, causing a collective cry from those inside the ambulance at the sudden force.
"Hey, where's Joseph?" the detective questioned the police officer, his brown eyes wide with concern.
The officer gazed back with nervous guilt painted across his features. "Hey man, sorry but he never came out! I waited but..," was his only reply.
The detective's face fell. He muttered a curse as he peered out the window, his fist tightening.
Behind me the frightened, silvery male voice of a familiar patient uttered a phrase in a soothing mantra, his words muffled over by the orotund tone of another's. "Please, settle down, Leslie," the deep voice begged. In an instant, I recognized the patient: Leslie Withers. Knowing that he was safe filled me with a sense of relief. Not to say that I didn't care for the other patients at the hospital, but, to be perfectly honest, I felt an almost maternal protectiveness for the boy. Though in his mid-twenties, he retained a timid, child-like quality; something that I somewhat admired despite his restless behavior.
When I realized who was with him though, I felt a sense of dread. Dr. Jimenez; the man was notoriously infamous for his scandalous approaches to treatment. From the times that I was with he and Leslie together, I saw the horrified reactions that the boy displayed in his presence. A knot welled in my stomach, not just due to my car sickness.
Buildings behind us continued to crumble as the chasm chased after us with an alarmingly fast approach. The police officer cursed as he watched from his rear-view mirror. "There's no going back."
I shut my eyes as the ambulance swerved, taking deep breaths to keep the nausea at bay. To my chagrin, nothing seemed to ease its relentless waves. For a brief few moments, I was actually terrified of vomiting in the detective's lap – believe me, that wouldn't have been pleasant for anyone. With each jerk the vehicle made, I clung to his arm to steady myself. In a less life-threatening moment, I might have even felt embarrassment over the fact that I was sitting in his lap.
Finally, things appeared to have settled down, and the ambulance drove down the freeway at a steady pace. I took a chance and reopened my green eyes to meet a much darker environment; we had driven into a dark tunnel. I let out a groan, raising a cold hand to my forehead. The detective's body heat radiated like a furnace, not at all easing the sickness that I felt.
With the brief second of calm, the detective turned on the radio. Changing the channels, he cursed at the silence he received. "Are we cut off from everyone?"
"Everyone must be dead," the officer replied, face falling at the realization. He stared ahead, haunted by his own statement.
His words echoed through my mind. I reverted to the depths of my mind with a blank stare as I recalled the faces of my loved ones, though they had been deceased for years. Everything I had worked so hard for had vanished in the blink of an eye. Hollow sadness filled me.
As I looked into the detective's eyes, I knew that he was experiencing similar emotions. He blinked and furrowed his brows as he returned to the present. "Everyone alright back there?" he called back to those behind us.
"Just a few bumps. We're fine," a female voice replied. I jumped, surprised at the sound. She had remained so quiet that I hadn't expected for their to be another person within the vehicle.
Leslie's timid, soft voice began repeating the woman's word of reassurance. "Fine, fine, fine…"
"We will be once we're far away," Dr. Jimenez added darkly.
"A little further and we'll be fine," the detective replied in an attempt to calm the worrying patient.
That's when he looked up in the rearview mirror and froze. Being in the unfortunate (or actually, under different circumstances, it might have been rather pleasant) position of being in the man's lap, I was privileged with a first-hand view of his every movement. Feeling him tense, I followed his gaze to the rear-view mirror. A tall, sharply featured man in a burned, white hood stood upright, his eyes locked onto Leslie with an intense stare. What little portion of flesh he still retained was an alabaster shade; the rest, from his head to his uncovered toes, was severely and grotesquely burned. The memory of silvery-white eyes piercing into mine flashed through my mind. A few pieces of the intricate puzzle began to connect together in my mind; and oh, how intricate it was. I had the misfortune of meeting this white-hooded man before as he held a syringe near my throat.
The detective whipped around to look in the back of the ambulance only to find nothing there. Once again he froze, surprise painting his hardened features.
My eyes widened, a chill coursing through me like a flash of lightning. "Who was that?" I asked with a quivering voice.
Brown eyes snapped in my direction; at the realization that he hadn't been the only one to lay witness to the man, they widened.
The radio began give feedback, much like the kind I heard while at the hospital – a sharp, piercing noise. The shrill volume increased, causing me to cover my ears.
"Fall, fall!" Leslie shouted.
The vehicle went out of control as we hit the side of the concrete tunnel. I once again closed my eyes, only catching a brief glimpse of the officer's transformation from man to living cadaver as I buried my face into the detective's shoulder. The last thing I remember is exactly what Leslie had warned us about: falling.
And fall we did.
A/N: Do you ever go back and re-read the stuff you wrote and think to yourself, "I seriously wrote this crap?" That's how I felt when I went back to edit this chapter. -_- Ugh, I made Sebastian so rude the first run through. I fixed it though. Hopefully he's not OOC, though. ._. (I'm hoping this made him even more in character, but it's been a while since I've played the game...)
Hope you enjoyed it! (At least a little bit) I'm thinking about adding a bonus chapter somewhere in here, just so I can make the later chapters match up with the game better. ;) So, be on the lookout!