Chapter 5

"So you like feeling like a hot ass piece of shit my friend? Like feeling like a dumb ass slow motherfucker?" there was a deep gravely voice in the room with him, it sent shivers down his spine to hear those icy words. "Just because you have muscles like goddamn freaks from comic books, the ability to shrug off wounds and throw your strength around like your some kind of god doesn't give you the right to fucking kill people!"

Spike was suddenly awake, he could hear this voice, this menacing undertone laced with poisonous and spiteful words. Someone had sneaked his way inside to his hovel, his safe room and started what could be his final speech before he fires the final round that kills Spike.

"My lifelong friend turned into one of you freaks... after some fucking government worked their stupid ways and ruined his life..I lost my brother to another one of you. He derailed a train." Spike could hear heavy angered breathing, and the sound of someone's fists grinding from being clenched "and you expect me to be lenient? Expect me to just let you live and heal? Let you fucking kill again!" a noise of something being taken from its holster split the brief silence.

The room was pitch black, the embers from the barrels had burnt out, a cold sensation emanating from the source of the voice, almost as if a black encroaching darkness enveloped the room and attempted to swallow everything and burn the rest. This malefic echo, sadistic, painful and sorrow lined voice taking a personal approach to solving his problem. Spike felt himself swallow hard, even though almost physically impossible he still did so.

"So Mr big man." there was a pause as the voice carried on "Let me tell you a story. Let me tell you how I dealt with this..this calamity I'm in"

Spike wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, to just stop and then end his existence. However he didn't know if he could move. Or even if he could how far he could go. He felt worry for the first time since he changed.

"I was twenty two. I met the most amazing girl I have ever known. She loved me, I loved her. I went off to join the army, not realising that one night of passion on our wedding day changed our life forever" there was a pause as a light sparked up, a small glow of a cigarette being lit, the orange glow showing a very angry and twisted expression as Spike saw the smoke exhale deeply;

"She was pregnant. My time with the Army led me to feel massively apart from her. I burned everyday to see her again. At first, it was like I was just away on a business trip. I got mail every time the mail was sent. Pictures of her along the pregnancy, pictures of her smiling and the old ones I couldn't take with me due to time constraints packing. Even pictures of her holding Rookie, my pup at the time..both with those big cute eyes..." the embers lit again as Spike saw a trickle of ash hit the floor.

"I was content, happy with the scene. Fighting for my country, and to protect her. I got leave soon before she was due to have the baby but something happened...with my unit..I was left bleeding..left to die in the middle of some godforsaken hell-hole called Russia as my friends simply just left me to die...prone bleeding out in the middle of a field in the wastes..."

Spike took in this tale, and wondered why he was simply telling him all this, why he stopped in his vengeance to kill Spike. After all he seemed to hate the Tank strain of infected with a burning passion. What fuelled him not to simply pull the trigger?

"Well..." there was another amber glow as he dragged on his cigarette "..I was rescued..simply and then found my way back to NATO camp. I was stitched back together and then realised eight months had passed. Somehow I had been in a coma for six and the other three in a medicated stupor cooked up to make me forget something I saw in those wastes...something bad that would incriminate the US government. Yeah boy, I'm a Brit and damn proud of it."

The cigarette hit the floor, and then was stamped out,

"I saw shit you wont believe, and also I saw shit that you would think would never exist. I saw how you assholes were engineered, how you were made into monsters to serve as cheap shock troops to soften up a foe. Yeah your a weapon son. Why do you think you can take so much flak? Luck? Sheer balls? No sunshine your a goddamn weapon made by a greedy government ready to throw away its morals to line its pockets."

Spike sank. Simply he stopped being worried and then slowly felt something sink in his chest, some horrid feeling washed over him. He was some sort of freak made by his own Government to what? Win wars?

"I hate you. But I also understand what it must be like to be a monster. I am too. Even though I'm simply a guy who serves his country..." he heard the man sigh as Spike placed a shaking hand over his face.

"Heal. Get better. Then we'll fight to the death to see who the better freak is" he heard him walk away.

"Then maybe I will tell you what happened with my wife as well...hell...maybe I could now. Us freaks gotta stick together." Spike heard a door shut, then a panicked voice hit his ears. It was Zhay.

"What happened? Who was that?" she was holding a lamp, it illuminated the room in a soft amber glow, the shadow of her cast across the wall behind her, her eyes stuck out in the darkness and she looked like she had been crying. Her white hoodie stained with blood and gore, hands still dripping Spike simply closed his eyes for a moment. He wished he could tell her, but he missed the ability to speak.

He missed being able to talk, to let his feelings out to someone who cared, someone who would take two minutes to hear him say something he'd always want to say. To stop and help him through a bad time, to simply sit their and hear him out.

He hated what he had become, and wished with his heart he had never become a monster.

A light bloomed from the barrels as the Jockey lit them aflame with materials and debris, the small warmth washed over him. He tossed some boxes in, and pretty sure someone's arm. He hopped happily but his eyes changed when he saw Spike haunched up against the wall, bandaged up and heavily set on not trying to get up again, sat, depressed a shell of his former mighty self. He didn't see a reason. And couldn't seem to want to.

He watched as the Jockey walked up to him sheepishly, his head curled up low, hands tucked away and his footsteps barely audible to Spike. He stood up slowly, his hands quivering.

He put a small fist to Spike, and smiled, his big toothy grin across his face.

Spike smiled, and bumped it back.