AN: Hello everybody, just FYI school starts back up for me next week so these chapters are going to go back to being updated at ~7am instead of at midnight like they have been, thought that y'all would want to know about a seven hour change in the scheduled. Anyhow, I fought with this chapter for over a week; I hope everyone enjoys it.

***Miles***

"Miles what the hell are you doing?" I hardly heard Waylon over the sound of the kid yelling obscenities at me.

"I have a bad idea" I told him, "hey!" I yelled at the kid "here's the deal, you just listen to everything I say and we can all get out of this"

We could get out of this very simply, just carve a path.

To my surprise the kid actually shut up, less to my surprise and more to my horror my eyes adjusted to the bright lights to reveal a steadily growing crowd of law enforcement.

"Waylon follow me" I started edging to the side of the building, dragging the kid with us.

He followed but kept talking to me "what are we doing?" he sounded breathless as if he were trying to keep a panic down. Luckily I wasn't too worried about him doing anything crazy, not while we were here at least.

"First we're getting out sight, I don't want them to be able to see us."

The bull horn sounded from outside again, this time it was a man speaking "Please don't escalate this son, we can talk it out. There'll be a call to you in two minutes, we can chat then." He sounded like anyone's elderly grandfather, not angry like Figueroa. He might be able to be reasoned with.

That's exactly what they would want us to think.

Ignoring that I asked "Kid, where's the nearest phone in here?"

He didn't answer me

Such defiance shouldn't be left unpunished

Crushing down my annoyance at the Walrider and a rush of anger that seemingly came from nowhere. I took a second to say "Just tell me where the phone is" as calmly as plausible.

For a moment the boy said nothing. The Walrider kept whispering in my ear, the thing was itching for a fight

It would be fun, think of how surprised they would be. We could carve through them then continue through the entire town. We could do whatever we please, turning anyone who stepped in our path to rain and then ending in a mound of Murkoff corpses.

I'm not doing this right now. I'm not keeping track of two conversations at a time, and I'm not fighting off half of my brain from doing something the rest of me would regret.

Good to know I get half of the brain.

I was pissed off at the thing, but didn't talk back.

"In the break room"

"Thank you"

Apparently Waylon and the kid had been talking while I was distracted. We were behind the checkout counter now, it took a bit more force than I would have liked to move the kid back to the break room, and I nearly felt bad for shoving him, but something was stopping me.

The actual staff room was just behind the counter, separated only by thin dry wall and a plain door. Waylon shut it behind us, I let the kid go; he immediately walked to the corner farthest from me. There was a well worn leather couch accompanied by an end table that held a corded phone and a water cooler. The floor was hard wood, same as the store outside and the wall stood a pale peach that wasn't broken by any windows. Maybe thirty seconds after we walked in the phone rang.

Waylon picked it up.

"Hello?"

I couldn't make out what was being said on the other end of the line

Waylon gave a heavy sigh "I don't think you would understand."

"Put it on speaker" I told him.

He eyed me a bit, but clicked on the speaker. "…to think about"

As if nothing had changed Waylon continued talking. It was standard hostage procedure, with the man trying to talk us down from whatever it was he thought we were up to while Waylon tried to assure him that nothing was going wrong. I knew that there were probably moving people in and out of the building, a couple of times I could hear people talking in the background as well. Everyone once and a while Figueroa would get a word in, whenever she did it was thinly veiled in professionalism but still overly hostile.

The only way out of this is through blood shed

I don't want to get into it right now.

"Hey kid, what's your name?" I had to try to distract myself.

The ginger looked at me like he was thinking of running or punching me, could have been either one.

"Jacob."

"Ok Jacob, is there any other way out of the store?"

"ya, it's up your ass"

Some people, I swear.

"…right. Look kid, I don't want to be here right now, and I can guarantee you that Waylon doesn't either."

There's no reason to ask the boy when we could carve our way out so easily.

The boy didn't reply to my final words. It didn't take me long to start wondering what was going on out there. Waylon was preoccupied with the phone, saying something about his family that made me more angry than I expected it too. I was reminded of how inhuman people could be, how easy it was to slaughter monster calling themselves people, and how much they deserved it.

See, you know you want to repay Murkoff for all they've done

I did, but I wasn't hitting unwitting police in the process.

The phone conversation droned on "I'm sorry son, but you have to come out. There are lives at stake"

His life he means, everyone out there is waiting, wishing that you would do something that would let them cut loose. Why don't we make the first move?

It doesn't work like that, they can't just open fire.

Odd, I seem to remember having men open fire on us

That was different, they were scared and confused, besides, you made me move when I should have sat still.

And you don't think the people out there are scared? I know fear and they are terrified. It's best to attack while they're too tense to react.

No.

I had to grit my teeth to keep myself from saying anything out loud back to the Walrider. I couldn't help but notice that it was partially right, we weren't getting out of here unless something drastic happened, but I still knew right from wrong. I knew I had the option of cutting a swath through the men outside, but I also knew that it was an option I could not take.

Hoping to clear my head of the Walrider I went to the closed door that lead to the store. Cracking the door open no more than an inch I took a peek outside. The street outside was abuzz with lights. I could see a man in his late fifties with a phone. He must have been the negotiator. Next to him stood her.

Agent fucking Figueroa. She was so smug, so ready to throw anyone she could under the bus to save herself. I wonder how many other people out there are on Murkoffs payroll. None of them were really innocent, all of them were greedy bastards. Lying, soulless, idiotic bastards! They were better as bloody fertilizer in the ground than as people…

…and that wasn't me talking.

But you know you're thinking the same

Shut up.

You don't deny it

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup

There were less words in my mind then there was just static and emotion

"Hey Miles-"

"What!"

Damn it

"What?"

I slammed the door shut when I turned to face Waylon. He looked worn and newly terrified, probably a result of the situation and my snapping at him. Well, the Walrider's snapping at him.

He didn't say anything but instead pointed to the phone. When I approached it he hurried past me and took up my old position near the door.

"Hello?" it was the man over the phone

"I'm here"

"Miles I presume. Ok son, I can't seem to get through to your friend Waylon. Maybe you can help"

He will try to trick us, don't listen to him

I know what I'm doing calm down

"I would like very much… end without violence, the only one… you… about Jacob's parents. They're very worried about him…

We don't want this to end without violence

"…a family man"

I hadn't heard any of the last part, static and the voice were filling my head

"Can you…Miles?...answer me"

More white noise. Every limb of my body was becoming numb again.

"Are you still there?"

Just kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them.

"…Yes"

He said something, I have no idea what.

We can do this.

I felt something cold uncoiling deep inside my brain. Something that definitely wasn't me thinking but wasn't wholly the Walrider's doing either.

"Hello? Hello are you there?"

I couldn't speak, couldn't move without doing something I'd regret.

There was a jostle on the other end of the line, like the phone was being moved, I thought there were voices, but I was focusing too much on not giving in that I didn't make them out.

It'll be fun. We can do as we please. After the dust settles we can even track down all of the contacts in Figueroa's phone. We would like that, chasing down leads. That's something you've always liked, exposing truths that people try so hard to keep secret, I only want to take it a step further.

The lights were flickering in the little break room. I was losing it, but I had to hold on. There had to be something I could do, anything!

"Miles Upshur! This is agent Figueroa, I'm sure you remember me. This is not a negotiation-"

Figueroa.

The dam broke. That cold coil in my mind snapped forward like the firing pin of a gun. The lights in the room popped and rained down glowing filament into the blackened room

"I will kill you!"

Over the line I thought I heard someone exclaiming about a third voice over the phone. I'll never know though because I turned to the door. In the gloom Waylon and Jason were outlined against the door. They moved. Waylon swung the door wide, grabbed Jacobs arm and ran. Ran like a man in fear of his life, ran in a way that only made me want to chase him.

I stepped into the store. The lights didn't register on me; they were insignificant, inconsequential, without meaning. The only thing we saw was the Murkoff bitch looking into the store and at me. That was a challenge, she knew I was coming out. We only hoped she feared what might happen to her.

We walked to the door. The front door made of clear glass. I was so much closer, we could do this.

The glass fell from my path, I needed not to touch the doors. There were men and women yelling out here.

"Freeze." "Get on the ground." "Hands up." They all blended together. We kept walking.

Only twenty feet away now. They all had weapons raised. Fools, those do nothing now. Ten feet away. Yelling. Static in my ears. I can see the whites of their eyes, all of them filled with fear.

We don't stop. Gun fire, there is a wound in my side. No pain, there is no pain. There is black smoke. It's not smoke, it listens to what I say, like another hand. A dozen other hands all moving to stop the people from shooting me. Four rounds hit me. I am three feet away. She fires at me, empties the magazine. The gun goes click, not boom. Static. There is only static in my ears when I reach out our hand.

I slam her to the side. She dents the car door she hit on her way down. That was too clean.

We pick her up again, by the arms. The only thing I can see is her and my black swarm. I think she's talking. We don't care and instead let the smoke do its work.

It pierces her skin and burrows deep into the muscle. I cannot see it, but I know that it is wrapping around her bones. All I have to do is hold her still and watch. Slowly her flesh expands, ripping away from the bone but staying intact. She is like a balloon. A screaming bloody balloon that deserves to be popped. The muscles on her arms are slitting themselves open from the inside. It rips like a sausage in the microwave, unable to handle the strain. Layers of tissue are curling to the air, thick blood beads up and rolls down the slivers of flesh.

The slow approach gets boring. Her right leg disintegrates and scatters in the air, drawing a new scream that I cannot hear. An arm goes next. We could just drop her and let blood loss do the rest. Instead I move one hand to her throat. People are much lighter once they're missing a couple limbs. I release my other hand, now she is held only by the neck. I'm sure she's not yelling anymore. I think she might already be dead.

Pools of tissue and fluids soak the ground and my bear feet, but I don't mind. I tighten my hand around her trachea, we want to end it with my hands, with simple force.

Tighter. Tighter. Her eyes are bulging from her skull. Tighter.

There is a gunshot. I complete my grip on Figueroa's throat, turns to past under my fingers. With her limp body still in my hands I turn to my right, where the bullet hit me.

In the gloom, on the edge of vision stands the man from the phone. Closer up he seems to be older than fifty, probably closer to sixty. He is holding a handgun. Nothing for me to worry about.

"Put her down" he knows she is dead, he is still calm.

For pure defiance we do not drop the body, but we do draw the swarm closer around us. The street is revealed. It is covered in paste, in smears, in globs that used to be people. The gray haze is now a black cloud that engulfs our body.

The old man looks around. His eyes never move from us, but we know that he sees the destruction.

"What in all hell…?" he keeps his gun level

"Murkoff did this" we would let someone know what happened. We would leave a witness, someone to proclaim the gospel.

"Murkoff, what- Hey! Don't move!"

We had leaned down to the body. Riffling through the pockets it didn't take us long to find a cell phone. A list of leads, a list of targets.

While I crouched he readied to fire "Go ahead, it does nothing" the black swarm shifted and flickered to our words, only to emphasize the message

He stood still, in a shooters pose. He must have some military training other than police work. No matter. I had what I came for. All threats were dead, it was time to move on.

We turned our back. We walked away.

There was no more gun fire.

***Waylon***

The lights were out and Miles wasn't the one doing the talking. I grabbed Jacobs arm and ran like a startled animal out of the break room.

"Hey! Let go!"

I didn't say anything back, I was saving his life right now, whether he liked it or not. As fast as we were moving, I was still convinced that Miles could move faster. We were at the blown out back door when I stole a glance behind me and saw Miles's figure facing the glowing street.

This was going to end badly, so horribly, absolutely terribly.

I rocketed out into the back alley. Only to meet with the two officers that had been out there before.

"Hey! Stop!" they had their guns raised and ready. Skidding to a halt I let go of Jacobs arm, only to have him run towards the men.

I almost had time to tell them to run for their lives before gunfire broke out from the front of the store. While they were distracted I kept running. Standing still here was more of a death sentence than any gun. Going to my left to the parked car I narrowly avoided a bullet. Missing me it shattered the passenger side window. My skidding across the hood of the car looked less like the dukes of hazzard and more like a scared cat.

Landing on the ground I didn't have time to wretch the drivers door open before someone landed on top of me. The weight of another man bore down on me, the two were yelling and I could feel cold metal clasp around my left wrist. Before the other cuff was secured a screeching howl silenced the sound of gun fire. The commotion on top of me slowed to a stop.

One of the officers asked "What the hell?"

I couldn't see what was going on, a tire filled my field of vision. I squirmed under the officers. I moved frantically, they didn't know was was going on. We were doomed! We had to run, we had to hide. Couldn't they tell when they were in danger?

For all my fighting they didn't move until it was too late. A scream erupted from my left. Something warm and wet hit my face, twisting my head I found one of the young men clawing at a gray cloud. The man on top of me jumped to help his friend. They were doomed, no need to worry about them now.

I clambered into the unlocked car. A tweak of two connecting wires made the engine roar to life. Only in the sealed compartment did I take the time to realize that a thick gray haze had settled around the store and drifted into the alleyway. In the mist I could only just make out the outline of the dying men. They were locked in a grizzly dance, swatting at what had to be particles of the Walrider. They seemed to melt where they stood, with occasional dustings of blood and viscera whipping at the windshield.

In time they collapsed beneath the view of my headlights, leaving nothing but dark fog. I might have been sick, I couldn't tell. While I sat shaking in the in the drivers seat I couldn't help but notice that the diluted swarm began to drift back through the building as if carried by a current.

Steadying my hands on the steering wheel I moved the car out onto the street. I prepared for the worst. Expecting that I would have to peel out, that I would be on my own from this point on.

It was strange how uplifting and depressing that thought was at the same time. I would be free of the walrider and everything that it represented. But I would also be losing Miles. We weren't too close, not personally at least. But I knew that he would be useful, that he already had mounds of information about Murkoff from months of research. That and he knew what I had been through. Knowing that he had survived the same hell as I had in that asylum meant that there was a link between us, even if I wouldn't exactly call him 'friend'.

I pulled up to the main street. The gray fog was gone completely, looking to my left I saw the desecrated street front. Organs painted the pavement, squad cars had red added to their ensemble of black and white. The there were only two figures in the road that even resembled human beings any more. One had to be Miles, he stood cloaked in the swarm like the first time I'd seen him. Only this time it was much more controlled, less like a swarming hurricane and more like a contained fire. I didn't like it either way.

The other figure was an older man. He was unremarkable, not too tall, a little overweight, but still alive. He was alive in a field of death, I didn't question how or why, I was just thankful that at least one person would be allowed to walk out of this.

Miles began to move in a steady gate. The old man kept a gun level on him the entire time, I got the feeling that Miles didn't care. I almost forgot that I was trying to leave this place without him. As he approached the car I made a last second decision and unlocked the doors.

It was stupid. It was outrageously dangerous. It was necessary.

Miles wasn't going to kill me outright and I needed his help.

In a painful moment of Deja vu there was a tiny click at the passenger door. The buzzing was more contained this time, the black swarm slipped out of sight as Miles sat down in the chair. He even buckled his seat belt this time. With a sigh I switched the car into drive.

When did this become the new normal?

Pulling onto the road there was a rustle from my right then a clunk in the middle console. Glancing down I saw that an android cell phone was now resting in the cup holder. I didn't question it. Instead I simply drove on. I knew our destination: Salt Lake City, Utah. Home of Murkoff Corporate headquarters. I only imagined what kind of danger we could get into there. I could only imagine being reunited with my boys.

It seemed like our path of revenge had only just begun.