AN: Hey guys, hope ya'll like this chapter it took a bit of thinking to hash out: writing as depressed Waylon is a lot different then writing as paranoid Waylon. Anyhow thanks for keeping up so far, and for reviewing (if you have been).

***Waylon***

The halls were empty of people, both armed and unarmed. Not that I was paying much attention.

Chealsy walked an arms length ahead of me, for once saying nothing. She still held the gun even though it was empty and useless. The whole world seemed quite, there wasn't even the static buzz of Miles and the Walrider that I'd gotten so used to. Where were they? Where were we? It felt like it'd been hours since I crashed the car into the parking lot, what had I been thinking?

One second of stupid though and I'd probably doomed us all. I'd doomed Cannor and Garrett, there was no way some petty bastard at wherever the hell- Zeichner- was just going to leave them alone after this. They were fucked and it was my fault. It was all my fault, I'd-

"Waylon! Shit, i've been talking to you for the last five minutes, you haven't even looked up at me." Chealsy, "we have to get the hell out of here."

It didn't matter anymore, Garrett and Connor were as good as dead "ok"

There was an angry hiss of a sigh "god damn, are you even on the same planet as I am? We're lost, and there are armed men fucking everywhere, and who-the-hell knows what is going on with Miles, and just, shit man. You look like a zombie. At least act like you're worried about dying horribly."

That sounded nice "ok"

She slapped me, hard.

"Wake the fuck up!"

I didn't want to "ok"

She let out some other noise, this one was closer to an angry yell than a hiss, "fine, you want to throw yourself a pity party? Do it on your own time. But right now, we need to get out."

She started walking again, I followed.

I wasn't having a pity party, I didn't deserve one.

The sting from her slap barely made an impact. Was I just ignoring the pain, or had my nerves just given up like the rest of me? We passed up a sign for a fire exit.

"Chealsy" she turned around and followed me down the hall marked by the red sign. Good to know that I was still good for running away, it was something I'd never failed at.

We passed a blood stain on the wall that used to be a person. Had I really survived a place filled with this? I couldn't even guess as to how. I probably just ran away. Ran away from everything.

Chealsy went out a steel door at the end of the hall. We were outside, in some ally. Really? escaping from some hive like that was this easy? Why was mount massive so terrible?

"Finally" she said under her breath.

Finally what? We were finally free to wait for Murkoff to find us? Free to wait for them to catch up? Free to lie down and die?

"Lets get gone" she continued saying before walking off.

I followed, no one seemed to notice the two of us leaving the little ally, with everyone focusing on the front of the building that was now covered in squad cars and firetrucks. That was nice, I suppose. Chealsy and I moved down the street, the flow of traffic stood at a dead stop, not that it mattered much. We walked on for some time.

Eventually we came to a bus stop, Chealsy sat at the little bench there. Wasn't a place like this really obvious?

I took a look up and down the city street.

It didn't matter, no one was looking for us, they were probably still all busy dealing with the-

"We forgot miles" I suddenly realised

Chealsy slumped in her seat, "he's a big boy. He can take care of himself"

She sounded very unsure of herself.

Before too much time went by to think about anything a city bus pulled up. We walked on, Chealsy had just enough change to pay the fair. Without a word we took two seats near the back. time passed in a haze as the bus drove on. The buss had started and jerked to sudden stops more times than I cared to count before:

"Don't just sit there, come on" Chealsy stood from her seat and urged me to do the same.

I did, not that I wanted to. What the hell was the point? My kids were as good as dead now, we'd lost Miles, Chealsy looked like she'd gone into shock. There was no point in fighting any more. We'de failed and there was no one to blame but me.

The street we stepped onto was dark, we stood in some shady neighborhood. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get murdered by random street crime. That'd be nice, getting put out of my misery. Sadly no such luxury happened as the two of us moved to a near by pay phone.

Payphone? I hadn't realised that those still existed. Chealsy dialed some number, her fingers shook like leaves in late autumn.

"Don't talk back, shits gone down. We lost Miles, Salt Lake isn't safe anymore. Still come state side. Call you later."

She hung up the phone with a weak click. Then started walking without saying a word. I followed.

Half the street lamps were out, leaving us to walk in shadows. Not that it mattered, there wasn't another living soul in sight. Only a short time later Chealsy stopped again, slumped against a wall and doubled over to catch her breath. With my luck she probably was in some sort of shock.

"Where are we even going?" I wondered out loud, not really expecting her to reply.

"What?" she said between overdrawn breaths.

"Where are we going?" I said again the the empty road.

"Fucking shit, I don't know Waylon. I don't see you making any plans, you've barely said a damn word. I'm tired of thinking, so why don't you figure something out instead of just standing there!"

I don't know why I even bothered talking, there was nothing we should do, nothing we could do. Despite knowing that I felt myself say something,

"The Zeichner Facility, do you know where it is?"

Why was I bringing that up? if we went there all we would find were dead bodies and more misery. Why do I keep putting myself through hell?

"... I saw it on a file once, California. I think. Why?"

California, that was so far. There was no way we could reach it, not like this, alone, penniless, carless.

"We have to go there" no we didn't. I shouldn't be going anywhere. If anything I should be laying in the gutter and waiting to die.

"Why, was it in one of the files you read? Whats going on there?" she started scrambling through the pockets of the coat she was wearing.

"I don't know anything other than the fact that Connor and Garrett were there"

She had produced a small note pad from some pocket and started flipping through the pages. Most of which were covered in a messy scrawl that I couldn't even begin to try reading. Eventually she stopped at a page that was only half filled.

"You said Zeichner, right?"

What else could I have said "yes"

He read and reread the little page in front of her "Waylon we have a lead."

Was she smiling? What the hell was wrong with her? What was wrong with me? Why had I brought the place up, I'd been correct back in the asylum, when I thought that the place should have just been left to fester and die.

Chealsy continued talking "it was on one of the files from your camera, right near the end, and it was something juicy…" she began reading of the little page " 'three bling dreamers, no names given. Were transported to Zeichner facility, with a higher security clearance than that of project wallrider. Few details, only that its something big and something very classified." She looked back up from what had to be her notes, "it sounds like they're still up to their same old shit. Care to go expose it?"

No. Not at all "why not."

I'm not sure why I gave what was close enough to a yes for Chealsy to accept. It was against every one of my wishes, but for whatever reason I followed her down the dark street. It didn't matter that I knew things were going to end badly, I had nothing else to do. Chealsy wasn't about to just let me sit down and die, no matter how tempting it was. No matter how painful things got, I just didn't have the chance to end them.

If only Lisa were here, if only I hadn't sealed my sons fates, if only I still had a reason to keep going.

"Hey" I took a slow look up "you going to just stand there, or are you getting in?"

She sat at just below eye level, in a small SUV. when had she gotten in there?

Still in my daze I got into the passenger side, keeping up my huge amount of usefulness I watched as she hotwired the car and started the ignition, again without my help. Looks like I was even more useless now.

She didn't say anything as we drove down the deserted street and I wasn't about to start a conversation.

We were westward bound, going off to face who the hell knew what. There wasn't even a reason anymore. Murkoff was still hurting people, sure, but the old indignation at the though, the sympathy for the people they hurt, the feelings. They just didn't come back the way they should.

Murkoff had won, they'd run me into the ground and destroyed everything that mattered. They won and I just couldn't care anymore.

I Just couldn't care anymore.

***Miles?***

It was very dark. At least three men moved around us, saying... something.

Saying "...shit, what did you do? This guy was tearing up the place."

"EMP emitter, and some other things I can't talk about, just get him locked down tight, inject 100 cc's of clozapine every half hour, force it in, I don't care how. Blast and EMP pulse every fifteen minutes, and- this is where it gets weird, but bear with me- make sure that there is an uninterrupted ring of salt around him at all times. Clear?"

"Yes sir"

"Good. Now, I have calls to make"

It was very dark, and at least one of them knew what he was doing.