Chapter Six: Doge
"Dad!" A girl's voice called in the early suburban morning. "Dad!"
"Elise, get in the car, school will be starting!"
"Dad, Sasquatch is sick."
"Sasquatch isn't sick. Now get in the car!"
"No, she really is. She's making weird sounds. And she's shedding a lot."
Patrick Gordon frowned at the statement as his little girl stood beneath the door of the garage, not moving a step out into the driveway.
He heard the click behind him, and before he knew it, his boy ran out of the car and followed his sister to the back of the garage.
"Hank!" he yelled and grimaced. Unclicking his seatbelt, he emerged out of the silver sedan and walked briskly after his children.
"Elise wasn't lying, Sasquatch doesn't look well," his boy reported back as he stepped into the family garage, slipping deeper into its shade as he entered.
Gordon frowned. His dog, sick? Really? Wonder what kind of trick she's been up to. She has been lazy for a week, not responding to his command and generally laying around the house. She lost her usual energetic self.
He wasn't worried. At times Sasquatch pulled this once in a blue moon.
But never he would call those times her being sick. It was actually her being stupid enough to use her abilities when her current body is in its offline mode, her biomass was low and her physics as close to a normal working dog to make her survive on dog food alone and her annoying habit of eating inedible stuff. His shoes for one.
She must have burnt whatever mass she had and strained her body, and this was what she got. Drawbacks of when she didn't keep track of her mass usage. Now she was recovering, building up that mass slowly. Of course, it also meant double the amount of dog food being fed, and her spare biscuit bag being chewed through and emptied, with her attitude being close to a sad, disappointed dog on house arrest.
Sasquatch could never be sick, courtesy of her immune system alone. His virus didn't even need to be active in her in order to deal with any deadly disease or cancers and even nasty wounds. Her biology had changed to handle all those threats, even aging without the virus' constant intervention.
Though Gordon frowned, there had been this nagging feeling, nudges in the hive mind, particularly in Sasquatch's link. He checked her of course, and she was fine. Sasquatch had quickly turned please and eager at his attention. So maybe it was just her moping and wheedling attentions.
With this in thought, the oldest Gordon stepped behind his children and looked over their shoulder. Pariah frowned at what he was seeing.
Her black fur was thinning, it no longer held its glossy, healthy shine.
He immediately crouched down, Hank stepping away and let him touch her body. Loose fur immediately clung to his hand.
Sasquatch molting?
No, no. Gordon frowned grimly. Her temperature was up. Fever level. And her belly… it was large, and he felt it, he felt them. His virus was active.
His virus was active.
Visions started to cloud red, veins cracking his sight. She, his dog, only whined under his pale hand.
Sasquatch was pregnant.
And he was furious.
"Something wrong, Alex?" Dana asked, turning around from the couch to see her brother rummaging the pantry.
"I have a headache," she heard his clip answer.
"Medicine stuff is in the bathroom," she pointed to the door left of the living room's window, across the only bedroom.
Dana looked at him when he passed by her, a tiny crease formed between her eyebrows. She leaned sideways on the couch, tilting her head to see her brother's figure past the bathroom's white door frame. Alex went through the stuff in the medicine cabinet and opened a case of painkiller only to pause, gazing at it before eating it. The box and all. Didn't even pop the pill, or a pill.
"Alex!" she called, annoyed at his lack of attempt at doing the correct way, or the fact he just wasted a box of painkillers.
The painkiller was useless anyway, whatever headaches or migraines she got could only be cured through time. And usually, the symptoms disappear quickly. If she was immune to common over the counter crap, then Alex wouldn't bat a lash if he stuffed himself a bowl full of them. But she liked to think pills still worked for her. Maybe it would trick her body or something.
She watched her brother stood there in the bathroom, frowning at the cabinet.
"Didn't work," he muttered more to himself.
"What the hell, Alex!" Dana walked up to him. "What was that?" She looked at him, demanding an answer when she leaned against the bathroom's doorway.
He turned with that annoying crease between his brows that made him constantly glowering and shrugged at her expression. "I have a headache," he repeated lamely.
"Y'know those don't work on you, right?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Never tried it, always assumed it wouldn't work, thought this might be my lucky day," he grumbled then rubbed his forehead.
"Why don't you sit down?" Dana motioned at the couch with her head. "Instead of just standing around and giving me the headache."
He opened his mouth then closed it quickly when he saw her stare. Wisely, he did as he was told, not wanting to kick up a fuss between them, especially not wanting to upset her after her boyfriend incident.
Barely two weeks have passed now.
Dana had recovered far too quickly. Didn't bat a lash at the new couch in the living room when they replaced few days after the incident. Even sat on it without a protest and just did her work. Never comment about the incident or showed being emotionally upset.
He expected quick temper, or a sudden burst of tears, something at least.
She did lack her usual spirited self, her snarkiness, and bites. It was there, just not most of the time. Heck, he gave plenty of opportunities for her to snap critically at him. And he missed that, he missed her. Numb, he would describe her current state was. She barely went out of the apartment even.
Alex Mercer was worried for his little sister. These kinds of things weren't supposed to be bottled up, right?
That was just more than a breakup.
"Some people, Zeus, deal with breakups differently. Some don't even cry. But mostly, it depends on what level the relationship was in when it broke."
"I hardly doubt she's upset because of a breakup. I wouldn't even call it a breakup, more like a slate being forced wiped-clean."
"Well, yes. And there's the fact that… she blamed herself for putting the guy in that situation. There's also… she never received proper consolation from the guy himself. Closure, or something, whatever humans called it."
"You want to talk?" his sister asked, breaking him out of his staring.
He should be asking that. Heck, he did ask but didn't get a proper response.
"I'm alright," Alex said quietly. Except for the pounding headache.
He felt restless, he felt… well, he felt like there was something he was supposed to do. He felt movements in the hive or was it just the strangeness of the voices in his head. Screams were still there, but there was so much more, and he felt he could be lost within it, only to have pain stabbed at him.
The headache.
"How about you?" he asked her when she sat on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"I'm fine," she answered quietly, her eyes though were staring at the crevice of the couch.
"You're sure?"
"I said I'm fine," Dana repeated crossly and closed her eyes, frustrated. "Got a job yet?" she asked.
No, and frankly there was more for him to worry here than just job hunting. Dana had a weird sense of morality. It was okay to screw around some other guy's account, but it wasn't okay to mess around a dead guy. Apparently, she'd rather have the money went towards grieving families.
"No, not yet." He avoided her gaze and waited for the fiery snap or her fed up comments.
He got nothing instead. Not even a sigh.
You're thinking. You're still thinking about it. Or thinking something else to avoid thinking anything about it.
He couldn't understand why it bothered her. No really, he couldn't understand. But he could understand not wanting to hurt the people he cared about, and at times it bothered him that the fact he couldn't give Dana the hug she wanted. The only ones he gave were stiff and awkward, not ones that memories of others spoke. He rather not have any physical contact. But most of the times, he was happy with just not having any if it meant she was safe.
But humans were social creatures, they couldn't imagine a life where they couldn't hug, couldn't enjoy another's company.
He could, and he wasn't grumbling or upset about it. Cause Dana stays safe. She doesn't get hurt accidentally.
Perhaps that was what bothering her, the fact that she would be living a life like his. Or was it that it finally dawned on her, it was not just physical contact but any close contacts, a life where she couldn't afford opening her heart. A life where any ties she established, she would have to cut. A life where she had to make excuses, lie even to others all the time so they wouldn't get hurt.
She was a loner, however, outgoing she was, she was not above manipulating others for her own gain, and from what he had learned about her, she had been living that life even before the Outbreak, during her times she was entering college and trying to make do in life with no one there behind her. Being distant shouldn't bother her, right?
Is that what she felt? She no longer should live a life what other humans were entitled to, were living in, else she would be lying herself about it. Living a lie.
He could understand that, living a lie. Look at him, Monster of Manhattan, sitting on a couch, hanging out with his sister like any ordinary sort.
Why bother living such a life? It wouldn't last. So she was closing herself in, prepping herself to be content in solitary confinement for the rest of her life.
Just give up and spare yourself the pain.
He thought like that too, still did, leaving her and him to walk the Earth alone, thinking it would be better. But now, when he looked at her, at that pale face lacking her usual mischievous gaze, now he knew that thought was wrong. It wasn't just the thought of her being alone or Pariah in the vicinity that kept him staying. It was just… he was starting to believe maybe it wasn't really a lie, this normal life they were trying to build. Cause here he was, hanging out with his sister.
As a brother should. Not a monster, not a killer, not a terrorist. Just… a brother, albeit a poor example of one.
But his baby sister content in solitary? He knew she wasn't a social butterfly, but she tried to go out once in a while to enjoy herself. Except, she had stopped that habit, even stopped trying to make him go out.
And he was disturbed by this.
No, what really disturbed him was her giving up. Dana, giving up after all her decisions, and arguments she had with herself, with Pariah and even with him. It was funny, when he starts to believe that they can live this life, Dana was entering his pessimistic mindset of living a lie.
Well, it felt like she was from her lack of response, and not reassuring his thoughts, leaving them running wild.
"Wanna walk?" he asked her. Just anywhere and not sit here under this roof. "Just walk around the neighborhood," Alex added.
She looked up at that with blue piercing eyes, face pale, speaking much of the lack of sunlight and her being an inside person, but her expression was passive as ever. "Sure," she agreed and got up.
In the busy morning hours of Houston Texas, a Chinese boy sat still in the taxi with a Hispanic girl three-four years younger moving around beside him. He was gazing out in the window, eyes barely focusing at the bright sunlit buildings as they pass them by.
"Elise," Hank called his sister.
"Wassup." She made that popping sound with her mouth and tilted her head, looking back at him with dark brown eyes.
"Do you remember being sick?" he asked.
Elise nodded vigorously. "Dad said I've stayed in the hospital for my whole life. Born wrong, luke-mya." She frowned at that last bit. "Loo-key-me-ya," she repeated.
"Do you remember being in the hospital?"
She nodded again. "It's boring. You have to lay in bed all the time while visiting kids run around and can play with stuff. You have to eat really boring food. And nasty medicine, even have tubes stuck up your nose, and have lots of needles sticking in you. And you feel reeeeally tired all the time."
"Do you remember anything else?" Hank continued drilling.
Elise stopped her shifting as her expression became very still. "I was a lost cause. But Dad came and things went funny!" she cheered suddenly.
"Funny?"
"Doctors signed me up with this new whatever, and everything seemed to get better. Way better," she said then made pondering face. "Three… four kids were on it too, but it helped them only a little." She shrugged. "I wanted to go back to the hospital," she suddenly added.
Hank frowned. "Why? I thought you said it was boring."
"There's this boy I met when I was really sick, and he's funny. He pulled pranks on nurses and doctors. He was really naughty though, he wouldn't tell me his name or even talk at all. We played this game of riddles, which he writes stuff and I have to find out what it really means. One of them happened to say I'll be going away. And I thought he meant I was going to die, and that was really a mean thing to write," she babbled.
"I probably got him in trouble, when I cried and didn't eat for a long time. And then they moved me in another ward. That's where I met Dad. I asked the nurses and doctors who the boy was, but they thought he was my imaginary friend," she complained. "I already asked Dad if we could go back, but he said I should forget about it." Elise made that frowny face, the face she made when she couldn't get her favorite candy at the supermarket.
"But he was really funny though, and he wasn't imaginary, he gave me a purple heart bead, and only kids whose treatment was finished got those, which was weird." She made a face. "He said I was going to die, but he gave me a purple heart bead."
Hank held back the morbid thought of when you're dead, there's no treatment for that, therefore any treatments were finished.
"Or maybe he knew the treatment was going to work," added Elise and blinked at the thought. "But how would he know about that?"
"When you say beads, do you mean beads of courage?"
She nodded vigorously, disturbing her from her previous thought. "But I call them how-many-time-you-had-to-do-this beads. Like how many times you had special checkups and do x-rays. They gave you a bead each time you had surgery or emergency admission."
"Do you still do checkups?" Hank asked.
"Not a lot now. But once in a while, I have to. I didn't go back to the ward though, so I couldn't see the boy." Elise pouted, unhappy then looked at her older brother. "Do you ever get sick, Hank?"
"Of course I get sick," the boy answered quickly. "Everyone does."
"You remember last time you stayed in bed?" she asked with that knowing smile on her face.
He frowned. "Dad always get us shots though."
"Do you remember getting a stomach bug?"
Hank opened his mouth then closed it. "No," he added quietly. "Well, not for very long time," the Chinese boy admitted quickly. "I mean… other kids at least get a week off."
"When nan got sick with one, Dad wasn't worried we were there with her." Elise tilted her head at that. "Remember that one time I told the teacher we were taking care of nan, some stupid kid said I should have gone sick with old lady's germs."
"No, not really."
"I asked Dad would we have gone sick with what nan had, he said naw at that," she added with a very Dad expression on her face then changed back to her bubbly self. "Remember when we met nan first time, she couldn't even walk without that stroller. Now she's walking with only a cane."
"Elise, what the darn hell are you on about?"
"Y'know most dogs when they grew old, they get less energetic. But Sasquatch behaves like a puppy all the time. Do you know how old Sasquatch is?" Elise went on.
Hank frowned in thought and recalled the time of Sasquatch when he was a kid. He knew Mom met Dad when he was three or four years old. Sasquatch was fully grown then, so seven-eight years later… stupid algebra. He grumbled.
"She's probably more than ten years old," Hank admitted.
"That's what I thought, Sasquatch is a really old dog, but she doesn't behave that way," Elise pointed out.
"Your point is?"
"I know what you're thinking Hank Gordon, and you're thinking what I'm thinking," the little girl gave that mischievous smile that he commonly saw on Dad when he was alone.
"And what's that?" Hank inched closer to his sister when she motioned for his ears.
"I think Dad's an angel," she whispered. "He can make miracles."
"I happen to know that Dad doesn't really care about God or souls stuff." Hank shook his head against such explanation. It wasn't going to change anything as their father would say, and he was practically unfeeling about the issue.
But Hank wasn't going to explain that, and that wasn't the point.
"If you were an angel, you wouldn't go around telling you believe in stuff like that else you're gonna blow your cover. So what is the opposite of angel? A disbeliever," Elise retorted.
"You sound like nan! And the word's atheist! And the opposite of angels are demons." The dam broke, and Hank stepped into his know-it-all mode. "Do you know what you're saying, Dad is an angel spouting atheistic belief? Nan's gonna have a heart attack if she heard that. And if he was an angel, why he would even spout stuff like that unless you're saying he's hiding? A fallen like the devil," Hank pointed back.
"Then explain weird stuff happening around Dad," she rebutted crossly.
That was the thing that had been bugging Heng Jian Li. The weird stuff.
Mere coincidences, said the skeptical rational part of him that sounded a lot like his Dad when Jesse explained miraculous moments in her life, even though both adults yapped about respecting and zipping mouth shut on certain things since those stuff upsets other people. But they say those stuff anyway and laughed, which was odd, and they were odd, and adults were weird. Dad was weird actually.
Or not coincidences, there was something more going on. But it certainly did not point at their Dad being an angel, the Chinese boy added crossly.
"You might as well ask why Mom called him a murdering manipulative bastard," Hank muttered, remembering the many Chinese names his Mom had yelled at Dad before they split.
Or that one time he caught his Dad late at night, standing in the dark, getting something heavy from the car. The lights were off, but his father somehow knew where things were, easily moving around in the darkness unlike him who had to search out blindly when he came down to greet his Dad.
Of course, Hank was curious, when he had the chance, he opened the freezer only to find the barbeque meats that Dad had told him about and go anal every time it was used. Mom was right in some way, Dad can be an overbearing control freak.
"He made everyone better, and I bet when we come home, Sasquatch would be as well," Elise replied smugly.
"Bet you on your gummy snakes," Hank scoffed.
"Bet you on your T.V time," Elise cut in quickly.
"Okay, it's on." Hank narrowed his eyes and growled.
Alex drummed his fingers on his crossed arm and held back the inner growl from coming out. Most of human lives were spent… waiting to receive their fair share of service, an aspect in life that he still needed to grow used to. Wished it was Manhattan, at least there were no waiting lines. The only waiting lines he had experienced were ones when he found a pack of hunters waiting for him to come out of the store he was raiding.
He exhaled for the fourteenth time and glanced over his shoulder, where the TV section was. Dana stood there transfixed, watching the news flash about the Outbreak.
Outbreak. Outbreak. Outbreak.
9-11 got nothing on this when this was the first case of Nuclear and Bioterrorism. But the perpetrators? The cause of the tragedy. Alex Mercer nothing but the bleary image of a hooded man entering with a case into Penn Station.
His name demonized.
His work questioned. What was he making, a bioweapon virus? How did he manage to create such virus under the very nose of his superiors and in extend, the government? If the government allowed such research, why was it allowed in the first place? When did they allow this, how long have they been researching this?
The government scrutinized, Gentek torn apart under the public and infamous terrorist groups have been affiliated.
How did a study of the cure of cancer through virology, virotherapy, and genetic engineering make a virus into that?
"Sounds like something from science fiction, right? Hahaha," said the talk show host.
Were they even studying for the sake of curing cancer?
But such questions were never asked, all questions flowed and manipulated away so smoothly from the truth, from even the right questions that should've been asked.
All lies and scapegoat, pieces of meat fed to shut the barking mouth of the public.
There was no way to say the virus came from overseas, the name Dr. Mercer was too affiliated with Gentek, and Gentek was wide and acclaimed US medical company. At least someone had run their research on Gentek's employees.
The virus, the public deduced… was made on US soil.
Though the fact Gentek was in bed with the government was not an open fact. Something Blackwatch was going to keep it that way, wiping the evidence, cutting the strings with the streams of scientists being off even before the Outbreak.
Regardless, whether Gentek was mentioned or not, the government have been questioned at how they allowed such atrocities to happen. Weren't there ethics and prevention methods that should've stopped one rogue scientist, even the research itself from ever receiving approval, right? Really, The US shouldn't be surprised, he snorted. Much questionable research had been handled on US soil, but none ever got blown in the face like the Outbreak.
And none in a very heavily dense and populated city.
In the end, cut all the strings and webs for all he cared, the public was already questioning the government even without Gentek involved. It would be just ridiculous for the government to say one of the of the most influential company would go rogue under their eyes just for this one research involving this virus.
It won't help the fact the government received backlash in either explanation. And the argument then drifted off to leniency vs strict protocols. But all the arguments depended on one thing, incompetence. That the government wasn't behind this, the only crime they were affiliated is fucking-up.
Not human experiments. Not a genocidal virus. Not the death of millions of New Yorkers. Not Greene. Not Hope. Nothing!
Just incompetency. Because one man was blamed for all the faults.
But what do you expect from hand-picked puppets? They were there to take whatever blame, even if the blame itself wasn't the right one. Alex had huffed at the thought.
Not good enough though, especially when nuclear terrorism was involved. Too much blood was lost. Many speculations have been made about how and where the bomb came from. The idea of the bomb coming from the shore of US soil had been ridiculed, praised, laughed, and discussed to death. The US… bombing itself with nuclear?
Would the government go that far in managing quarantine?
Trust in one's nation shaken by such question. People skeptic that such propositions even existed as a contingency plan, especially one that involved a nuclear bomb on New York, The Big Apple. Surely more effort should have been put to save the city? After all, the Outbreak wasn't the apocalypse. Rifts spread, strikes were made, passive protest turning violent with the clash of opinions on whether such contingency plan should be allowed and more.
I would've pushed the red button too, because if the virus that, need I have to remind you, managed to take 80% of Manhattan's population within a month got out, then this country would've been screwed.
"Says the idiot on the internet," Dana spat then she laughed later when a video dealing with the whole Outbreak conspiracy, theory and facts took the comment and mocked in a fake autistic voice.
The nuke that hit near the coast of New York was simply explained away as being intercepted before reaching Manhattan. That was their explanation. Made sense, had logic, comfortable and easily wrapped around in your head… even if it wasn't true.
The nuke that he had rid, that he had stopped Manhattan from becoming another Hope… that he thought would end with him. Strange, back then it was a rush, a blur of time ticking by, but he was willing to take the bomb even when he knew there was a big chance he wouldn't make it. Didn't give much thought, just accepted the risk. That's it. Only to come back alive, remembering with hate on the truth about it all.
Believe or don't believe, trust or don't trust the government, the military had received its fair share of backlash. Even if the bomb was from outside US soil, it still meant it got past The US Navy and numerous intelligent agencies meant to keep track of something like a missing nuclear bomb. When compared to the number of millions lives lost in the terrorism, as well of those lives affected by the radiation, people were bound to chew and spit out something at least.
Such paranoid mindsets existed before the whole Manhattan incident. It was only when the Outbreak happened that it was receiving a large amount of spotlight. Manhattan didn't serve as just a shocking event of the history of mankind, it was a wakeup call for people.
Some speculation hit too close to home. He was fascinated how close humans could be. And how stupid and complacent they were.
Information was being controlled, speculations were ripped apart 'till nothing was left. Illuminati confirmed as usual. Dana's work though, it may not be fed to the public, or shown on news and TV, but there was talk.
The internet was a deep and terrifying place. There were pieces being put back into place. Dana had watched the working silently, hoping her pieces would help those people see the bigger picture. A warning, a spread of word before the swift cut of a shutdown.
Recently, that was all Dana cared. Probably what kept her mind off… her current life. Alex grew somber, concerned as he watched his sister under blue baseball cap he wore. All he could see was her back as she stood, staring at the recovering Manhattan footage, live footage.
All was well and good, if you could discount the image of long lines of waiting on clearance of being infected. That was one part, the getting off Manhattan was a much more painful process for New Yorkers.
"They're keeping them in there like a concentration camp," Dana viciously commented.
"Hello," said a man, waving a hand in his face then motioning him to move up the line.
He gave a scowl, breaking his gaze off his sister reluctantly.
With one step forward, he grumbled a bit at the waiting line as the world went on around him. The beeping of items being scanned, the footsteps and wheels on the move, the hubbub of the supermarket all around him, the nails scratching, tapping and thudding against branded box, tight plastic and paper cartons.
Grey flickered into his vision and Alex went still. The world froze when he looked up. A wash of disconnected whispers spilled before disappearing. Mercer spun around immediately, moving out of the line and headed toward where his sister waited.
Dana was still staring at the TV.
"Holy fucking shit! Do you see that!" commented a kid staring at the TV. "This is live! This is fucking live!"
Alex's eyes narrowed on the screen, he knew that decrepit area. Once it was a road and street riddled with craters and holes from tank shells, underground tunnels exposed to the surface. If he wasn't so caught up in the moment, he would've wondered why people did not question the bullet sprays left in the concrete or the general consensus that it was used as a method of crowd controlling on the supposedly "violent riots" that went down during quarantine. Not to mention the shelling, tanks, and jets at the scene. It wasn't like the government was going to readily explain the zombie apocalypse.
The screen flashed. There was a cruise ship company at the corner of the footage and the occupied military base headquarter, hinting where it was taken.
Battery Park, particularly Battery Park harbor.
But its focus was not on the recovery of the location but at the blur of bulbous red and tentacles shooting out from the ground. Debris and concrete flying as it broke free and reached out towards south, south… where she was. Mother's Pet was clearly done with recovering.
People started to crowd around the electronic section as the frantic sound of News Reporter reached screaming level. The mass of shouts of the civs below on the ground faint under the blades of the helicopter.
He pushed past the people away easily as they swore and shouted after him when he shoved. Quickly, he grabbed Dana's hand, and turned her around.
"Dan-" He grimaced and swore under his breath but faltered when noticing the face she was giving.
A calm face. Serene, in a trance with eyes blank and unfocused.
"It cries," Dana's voice was quiet and distant, unheard in the yellings surrounding them, but he heard a voice - no, whispers roiling in an echo. "It calls for me." She turned slightly, back at the screen.
He did not hear it, but more felt it scream. Once, his body had learned the warnings before it screamed. Grey flashes, a moment of static hearing, the hivemind stirring and louder than it should be. Enough warning to make him leave.
And that warning hit him, made him wanted to burst into a sprint. Just away, far from it before it could scream. But he was far from it, far from its scream. His body thought otherwise when it coiled tightly inside like a winded spring.
The TV screen cracked, well the camera cracked, the scene unfocused and quickly the live footage was cut quickly back to the news station.
He was gripping on his sister's hand tightly, breath heavy and shaken.
"We're going," he told her quietly, then tugged her forcefully out of the crowd, not caring at the fact he tripped off the alarm from the stolen grocery.
There was violent swearing as her master walked around, aggravated at the calling of another. He ignored it when his eyes swiveled and focused solely on her. She wasn't sure it was a good thing.
"Sasquatch, Sasquatch," she heard him mutter softly. "What am I going to do with you?"
A whine escaped when she felt his hand briefly rested above her enlarged belly.
"Why… why?"
She couldn't understand why he was so distressed, angered even. What was bad about having pups?
"Because you're not supposed to be able to have pups!" Green eyes narrowed sharply on her. "Do you even know what you're doing to yourself!"
She was having pups… what else? She whined at her master in inquiry and stress. And of course, some dogs aren't able to have pups, but she wasn't that dog.
He paced around on the ground, restless, aggravated, and the usual two-legs peculiarities he does when he was upset. "Save your strength, Sasquatch. Because if you want to survive this… you need focus on only you and…" he grimaced and looked down on her. "I..." he began that funny scattered thoughts of a typical two-leg talk. Why do they pause between their intentions? "How? Was there," he faltered again.
And now he was being silly. Sasquatch just looked up at her master from the floor. Would've tilted her head if it weren't for the painful aches. She sighed heavily instead. Sometimes, she did not get the two-legs. Particularly this one.
"Sasquatch, was there a dog?"
She gave a whine. What kind of question is that?
"Did you… had…" she heard a loud grimace from him after the last pause. "Did you mate!" he snapped.
Mate? Oh like the funny things he does with-
"No! With another dog!" he snapped.
Like the way he-
"No!" he snapped and groaned. "Not like THAT!"
Now she knew he wasn't a typical two-leg and that his nature was different. How he does it was different than how the typical two-legs does it. But then he did the odd typical two-leg thing, got himself a… partner with her own litter. Why he wanted another's litter was strange, but it was certainly nice for the little one.
He was not a typical two-leg, but he pretends to be so. And since he had a partner, she started to wonder what did he see in his partner? Last she checked, cats mostly liked cats, dogs mostly liked dogs, birds mostly liked birds. Cats do not see dogs as other cats. So it was another peculiar thought she was having trouble grasping.
What does he see the other two-legs as? His partner clearly wasn't like him, but he liked her… somehow. Chose her as a partner, saw something in her, did all the natural course of courtship despite the fact she wasn't a creature like him at all. He did it without doing it, well that was his answer when she asked. How was that even possible, anyway?
She asked a bird that question, but they kept on twittering about… nest and food? Animals had never been so simple.
But it was possible because he smelled like his partner, and she smelled like him.
Two-legs were odd.
And him? Well, Par was Par.
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my dog," she heard him mutter. "You've grown far too smart for my liking!"
Another thing, he gets easily upset whenever they approach subjects like these.
"Embarrassment, Sasquatch. It's called embarrassment."
"For one… I'm… that's not what I am, Sasquatch. You know that I'm… different."
'You pretend.'
"Yes. I pretend. Well, no, not exactly. The point is… that's not what I'm meant for… well, maybe I can. But I'm not interested and I'm never gonna change that. And… she would most likely die."
'You did it without doing it. She didn't die.'
"Yes, I never tried and never will, and that's why she lived. Quit pestering me on that. And that's the point I'm trying to get, Sasquatch. It's death. This… whether you did it with another dog or not, doesn't matter in the grand plan of the process you're going through!" He snapped then grew somber. "Actually, did you do it with another dog?"
'No.' And really… she wasn't interested. 'I eat them.'
He gave a sharp look at her. "I've been wanting to ask you that. Why would you eat your own kind?"
'Food?'
"But they're dogs, Sasquatch, like… you. You're not like strays out there. You don't need to-"
'No.' She disagreed, and he blinked in surprise. 'I pretend.'
Her master stared then sunk down at that, but not out of relief but at the heavy dawn of her answer. He covered his face with his own hand then rubbed it slowly before resting it back on her head, rubbing hers.
"Of course, it's a no…" he whispered to himself. "You've grown." He looked at her sadly.
One day those beady brown eyes of hers would no longer shine as a simple dog in a simple world. It all comes back to their nature.
"If I find out you made a secret hive out of… God knows what!" he grumbled. "I swear… I'll… I'll…" he struggled as he pointed his finger at her.
'I didn't,' she told him.
Par looked at her with a narrowed gaze. "Th-that doesn't make sense," he stammered. "Runners… when they know they're going to be most vulnerable, would build a place somewhere safe. In fact, all animals do that. Like how… mother did," his breath hitched. "Surrounded with family." He immediately froze.
"Oh Sasquatch." He gave a heavy sigh when the realization dawn on him.
He was her fortress, her walls, her safe place as well her only family. She didn't need a fleshy-womb or meat-moss home when he was around. He gave off that sense for her already, and that was enough for Sasquatch.
And probably wasn't helping the thought of why she got herself pregnant in the first place, he made a face.
A sharp whine and a heavy sigh. Hours in the dark, just sitting. He closed the garage door earlier, a wall between the world and them.
"Hold still. Th… they'll consume you alive if you keep doing that."
Green eyes swirled into amber. A hand on a swollen molting belly, he pressed his fingers in, sinking into the flesh.
"This is no way to treat your mother," he muttered in a grimace at the feverish heat surrounding his left hand.
Sasquatch let out a low whimper as she rested her chin on his left leg with him leaning against the garage's walls, backs resting against them.
Better if they were dead.
A snarl and teeth sunk into the thigh. He said nothing back while his own dog growled at him, sharp canines sinking tightly into his own flesh.
"It would be easier for you," said Pariah calmly at his dog. "You would survive. No risk."
Sasquatch brown eyes changed, black beady pupil narrowing into slits, his pale reflection gazing back from them. His left hand though was still sunk in her belly.
"I hardly call this a stalemate," Pariah told his dog.
A vicious snarl escaped from between the teeth, but the gaze did not falter. If he was an ordinary human… his leg would've snapped.
A cold raspy laugh slipped from his lips at the clear violence from his own dog and at him too. "So this is what it's like to be General Randall." He grinned to himself as he imagined that human standing before his mother weakened from his birth. "Alright mother wolf, I'll get those pups to shape."
His eyes closed, and his mind submerged to the movements of virus, cells, and voices.
Then the door of his home slammed open.
"Pariah!" he heard Zeus yell. "Where are you?" he demanded.
Patrick bared his teeth then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Here," he called out. "But before you walk in-"
Alex stomped in the corridor and walked through the door.
Pariah just glared vehemently at his brother from the far end of the wall and gave a heavy sigh. "Whatever you're thinking," he said at the disgusted look and silent accusation from Alex, especially at the fact his hand was inside the bulging stomach of his dog. "It's not what it looks like," he finished weakly when Dana walked into the scene.
She was smiling dazedly when she walked into the garage with lightness in her steps. "Puppies," she murmured and crouched down, inching closely to his dog.
Pariah looked at her oddly and just groaned at the fact he realized the echo reverberated in his head when she spoke.
"Two problems, great! What next?!" he snapped.
"Three," Alex added grimly. "Do you know Greene's pet?"
"What pet?" Pariah grumbled. "My mother, if you so happened to know, had numerous of them that I just can't be bothered keeping track."
"I can't believe you didn't hear it," Alex said this quietly and turned around at that, pacing slowly back and forth.
"Alex, need I remind you, I spent most of life distancing myself from the hive. So forgive me if something slips past my head. It's a normalcy that my family gets occasionally loud," he drawled. "As you can see, I've got another problem here I'm trying to concentrate and fix," he snarled violently when Dana came too close touching his dog's bulging stomach.
She backed off immediately, to the point she was crouching behind Alex, watching him with wide eyes.
"I felt it, Dana heard it call for her, and you're telling me you didn't hear it!" her brother said with disbelief.
"Wait, did you say call?" Pariah looked at him sharply.
"It called for her," Alex repeated, voice shaking. "It called for her," he said quietly then turned around back to pacing, feeling restless... helpless, agitated.
"If you're thinking of even going there," Pariah's voice called out, low and dangerous. "Then you are one giant idiot. Especially when she's in this state."
Alex stopped his pacing then swiveled back, staring at Dana crouching on the floor. Her look distant and dazed at all the ongoing between them. The hard lines that he had never realized were there now gone from her face. So unaware… so content, no worries, no strain, no pain, no burden, so unlike her.
"I won't," he promised to himself.
"What?"
"I won't leave!" he snapped at Pariah.
"Oh good, glad there won't be a fourth problem," Pariah drawled. "Now would you mind taking her to the living room and just watch her while I try to finish this." He jerked his chin at his black Labrador dog leaning her muzzle on his leg.
"How long you're gonna take?" Alex demanded. Frankly, he didn't care what the hell was going on with his dog. He just wanted Dana to snap out of it.
"A year if you continue standing here," Pariah snapped, looking harried at the current situation.
Alex snorted then he turned towards Dana, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her up forcefully to make her stand.
"C'mon," he told her gently.
"Puppies," she muttered wistfully and looked over her shoulder as he pulled her along. She waved her hand at Sasquatch who gave a small whine in reply.
Patrick just made a face at the exchange then sighed when they finally left.
"You owe me a lot," he grumbled at his dog.
Alex stood up, then sat down. He stood up again and paced around but kept his eyes on Dana who was watching him happily from the sofa. Blue piercing eyes glanced at the clock on the wall above the TV across her, almost to four.
His lips thinned. Six hours! Six goddamn hours he's been down there. He had prodded him earlier except he received… not a mental lash back or a threat, but a plea to not bother him at all.
Zeus... my dog needs all my attention right now. Else… something worse is gonna come out of this if I don't do this right.
In that moment, he had received a flash of images, of women disfigured, wounded and bruised around the womb. Some… they looked like they were in an aftermath of childbirth, others before and during what clearly looks like a checkup in a pristine clinic. Hope children came to mind at the image of mothers, especially ones with thorns and spikes growing out of them. Irregularities.
But one image stuck out most. A woman, dead on some floor and from the tumorous growth, a typical run of the mill infected. From her belly, it looked like a monster had clawed out with what almost looked like a fetus if it weren't for the hardened skin and deformed hands saying otherwise.
Alex hesitated and backed away, but he was left with more questions he didn't need. Where the hell did Pariah get those images from, or… the memories? Was it his imagination, brief vulnerability, and insecurity that let the image escaped from his mind? Perhaps it was both. Alex grimaced, then glanced back at Dana.
A blank face that just stares, dead inside. No. He shook his head.
Dana was in there. The virus… the virus wasn't active, he could sense that, felt that. But the hive was! Whatever changes Redlight left, it was there. Just like the red hair it left. Dye it, cover it, rid of it, but it won't change the fact it left its mark on her.
The sound of key inserted into the door and the scrambling of unlocking, Alex inhaled sharply when the front door burst open with a running pair of feet entering the room.
"Dad! Is Sasquatch-" a girl cried and stopped at the sight of him. She suddenly ran back into the corridor she came from. "Hank! There's a robber in the house!"
Mercer swore under his breath and quickly pulled off his hood. Not good enough, his thought reminded. Leather jacket and hood parted into tendrils then settled back to a plain white shirt. Inconspicuous enough, he guessed while grumbling silently. He should have remained in disguise. She already saw his black hair though, so couldn't change them back to platinum blonde. But eyes, in most case they would go unnoticed. Before he could change them, another of Pariah's children walked in.
"Robber?" A ten-year-old-boy stepped into the living room with dirty socks on then squinted his eyes on him. For a brief moment, they stared then Hank turned around. "Elise! It's just that shady guy Dad hangs around with!" he called back then tossed his bag on the sofa and immediately clicking the TV on.
Alex made a face then wanted to swear again at the fact his sister was on the sofa, and she was moving.
Dana moved quickly, alarmingly quick, snatching the boy's face into her hands.
"H-hey!" The boy protested at her tight grip on his head, forcing him to turn slightly under her blank expressionless eyes. His eyes widened at the abrasive action, creeped out and frightened as he immediately tried to buck away. The iron-grip remained unshaken. Perhaps it was just him, they seemed to tighten as if to still him.
Panic rising, the boy grew more forceful and desperately, almost flailing. "Let me g-"
Said shady man snatched the death-gripping hands by the wrist and pried them apart with little trouble. With a firm look, he glared at his sister.
"No," he told her quietly while still holding her hands tightly.
Blank stare met his and she slumped back to complacency, hands dropped back negligently on her lap as she slouched. No remorse emerged out of her, no disappointment, nothing. Just an odd, empty look.
Alex looked away, teeth gritting.
"Who are you people?" The boy complained under his breath as he backed away from the couch, rubbing his right ear, sore from when they were crushed under her grips. "Dad!" he called, upset at being alone with two strangers… two creepy strangers.
Alex heard the downstairs door opened with a creak and soft footsteps climbed up the carpeted steps. Pariah passed by his daughter who had stood quietly in the corridor. His lips thinned, and his green eyes strained and tired, expression unfocused, but they narrowed when noticing his son was rubbing his head sorely and the look his boy was making.
"Something wrong?" Alex did not miss the low dangerous tone in his voice that could be mistaken as nonchalant.
The boy hesitated before his father.
"She grabbed him by the head, but I stopped her. No harm done," Alex interjected smoothly.
Pariah stared unblinkingly at him then looked back at his child who had grown sullen.
"Is he right?"
Hank remained silent.
Pariah kneeled down before his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hank, are you alright?" he asked, serious and worried.
Hank nodded slowly. "I'm fine. It was nothing," he muttered.
A long stare and a heavy exhale, Pariah stood up. "Go to your room and bring your sister with you. You can watch the show on your computer."
"But what about Sass?" Hank watched his father walked over to the kitchen.
"She's at the vet," he told them.
"What's wrong with Sasquatch, Dad?" Elise walked in and stood by her brother.
"Don't know." Pariah shrugged nonchalantly. "That's why she's at the vet."
The children stared at their father unhappily. Pariah sighed, feeling their gaze on him.
"The vet will call when they find out what's wrong, okay?" He looked at them earnestly.
Hank said nothing at that after a long stare at his father. "C'mon Elise." He took his sister's hand.
"But I want to know what's wrong with Sasquatch," she complained when he led her away.
Pariah just watched them silently, his mind suspicious then he turned back to the current situation at hand. There was a long stare at Alex only to ignore him when he went over to the fridge and opened it.
Alex gritted his teeth at the blatant act. "Da-" he began to remind.
"Catch," Pariah interjected when he snatched a kitchen knife from its magnet holder and threw it back over his shoulder.
He did then stare oddly at the older Runner when he rummaged through the fridge and brought vegetables out.
"What are you doing?" he asked, frankly annoyed.
"Making dinner," Pariah answered with the same tired tone. "We had leftover for two nights. I don't want them complaining." He then paused when he stood up from his crouching by the fridge. "You're helping. Now." Green eyes turned slightly to glare back at him challengingly.
"Can't you, y'know, just be nice for once." Dana sighed when she turned and lounged on her expensive computer chair.
Seriously, they were playing this game again? Now?! Alex blinked and exhaled, his shaking fists stilled then loosen. Scowling, he stalked over to the kitchen then stopped, glancing at Dana who was staring at Pariah too much for his liking.
"I'll get to her," Pariah's voice cut in, hearing his unspoken thought.
"This isn't something you should wait," he snapped at the older Runner.
"It is," Pariah replied casually. "She won't come out of it until I rid the source, other than that, she's stuck like this."
"Isn't there any other way?" Alex demanded while he set up the pans. "And what do you mean rid the source?"
"I'm going to New York, well as close as I can get to Manhattan without getting questioned," Pariah told him flatly. "Cut that." He ordered and pointed at the vegetables on the board.
"And what about us?" Alex inquired as he glared in disbelief at the nonchalant act.
"Just watch her and send a report to me," the older Runner grumbled the obvious. "What she's going through now…" He glanced over the counter.
Dana had moved from the sofa and had taken a seat by the counter instead. She stared emptily at the wall opposite of the TV, her posture slouched but still and unmoving, almost like a statue.
"Think of it as sleepwalking," Pariah explained as he stared at her. "As well as waking dream. But it isn't the hive or one of my siblings' distressing call causing this, BUT it is a trigger." He pointed at the current dazed state. "It's stress. Stress is our number one big enemy."
"And the cause of the stress?"
"Life," Gordon snipped then looked at him grumpily. "Please cut the vegetable, the pan is heating up."
A long glare, a stubborn rock but it cracked. The Monster of Manhattan scowled and complied begrudgingly. It was more out of distraction than doing a favor for the Pariah. Besides, if humoring would get Pariah from digging his heel on this, then so be it.
With the right strength, he cut them quickly and neat, width equal and speed instantaneous. Once, those cuts have been irregular, some fat, some too thin, the blade and cutting board damaged at the end of the task. But the days helping Dana cook and getting her to eat had some hand in helping his cooking skill.
"I know what you're thinking," Pariah said at his silence. "Even if I get rid of my mother's… pet. Would she snap out of it when the other causes are there?"
Alex shoved him the chopped vegetables. "Dana. Will. Snap out of it." Blue eyes narrowed onto the older man as he remained adamant.
"Doesn't work that way." That familiar drawl came as usual when he took the board. "I can't fix her… life. I can take it away but that's what her brain is doing at the moment. And if I can." Pariah huffed. "I would certainly find you a monumental task," he joked then saw his flat glare. A fist on the hip, the older man sighed. "Look, do you ask about her days?"
Alex grimaced at that.
The words, how are you, were not a common phrase for his mouth. And when he asked, there was that… awkwardness, he guessed. Less so, now. Most of the times, they were more comfortable with what's unsaid because every time they ask about the elephant in the room, Dana only end up paled, sickened, and upset.
He was a reminder of all things that screwed up in her life.
Her boyfriend incident wouldn't have happened if it weren't for the virus in her, the virus that he couldn't rid with his own, that made her like this.
People? Well yeah, people were people, but the fact he told her time and again. Why are you wasting your time about those idiots? They don't care about the truth. People were content to be sheeps, and she… she was only being careless in indulging these people.
Blackwatch? Him just being with her wasn't helping the situation. Dead or not, Blackwatch wasn't going to forget about him. Manhattan? Granted, it wouldn't make any difference if the vial didn't break or not. Greene was clearly ready to escape. But him just being there, a survivor, a remnant of the war that went down, wearing the face that caused many people to die, being some kind of monster that prowled the street and killed humans… much like Greene and her pets.
And him? Him and his stupid dumbass pessimistic words. Being a killer wasn't helping at all.
And now? Just fucking clusterfuck.
Hence comfortable silence, and mundane irrelevant questions. How are you, being one of them. The latter Dana enjoyed more while he preferred the former.
Perhaps it was why he did not notice as he was so content at the unspoken acceptance, the illusion of one at least. Alex's fists tightened. He's grown complacent to think everything was fine. A routine of life people believed, that he fooled himself into.
Many things remained unsaid between them, he thought it was for the best but apparently it wasn't.
"I wasn't really helping, was I?" he muttered.
"Whatever the problem is, reconcile it later." Alex blinked then glanced at Pariah who had slipped something into the oven. "I doubt the cause of her stress is as simple as you. It's more a cycle of stress. And it's never going to go away because this is how the world is, this is her life..." The older man looked up and glanced across the counter.
Dana wasn't there anymore.
Pariah frowned. "Where the darn hell did she go?"
"Dana!" Alex yelled, bursting out the gaping front door.
"Outta of the way!" Pariah shoved past him and walked out into the street with kitchen knife in hand, green eyes narrowing into the distant. "There!"
The suburb alive, children returning from school, parents driving up their home, pets greeting their owner, cars passing through the street. And Dana… amongst the families, so easy to infect them. Children carrying the virus would spread it through school, send it to another kid, carries them back home and infect their family.
Parents to their workplace, their colleague carrying it back to their own family.
The cycle repeats.
Dana was young, in her twenties, could've blended in so well if it weren't for her clothes that spoke of her age gap between the grown adults and the young kids. Tank top, short-shorts and bare feet instead of wearing her sandals. Before Alex could burst off, Pariah grabbed him roughly back by the shoulder.
"You run like a madman, you'll ruin all the work I went through!" Pariah hissed, eyes glancing at the neighbors all along the streets.
"You want to let her go in that kind of state!" Alex snapped.
"I didn't say that, I said just keep your speed in check!" Pariah snapped back then turned to run off.
Alex didn't run, he sprinted, brushing past Pariah. Everyone, everything just a blur when he zoned onto his sister's back further up the block. Somewhere along the way, he heard the screech of cars slamming brakes when he crossed the street without looking or when he ran into driveways. The sharp horn and beeping interrupting the peaceful suburban. "Hey!" being yelled at him when he shoved children, parents, people out of the way, or when he slid and jump over cars as he parkour over and left a dent in them.
People, for once, stopped their routine and stared oddly at the running madman.
"Dana!" he yelled when his sister stood a street away with two children. One of them upset, crying. The other on the ground, fallen back but wide awake, staring at her in horror. She was holding a bloody squirrel in her hand.
Dana turned slightly towards him, face blank then she let go of the corpse and ran. The other way.
Shit!
"Come back here!" he snapped at his sister crossly and scrambled after.
"Idiot!" Pariah seemed to come out of nowhere from behind him. "The squirrel!" he yelled out of realization.
Dogs howled and cats yowled somewhere off, Alex glanced back and saw the corpse was gone, just a small spat of blood left on the concrete. Instead, he caught a glimpse of a black blur that went off and disappeared over someone's fence and into the garden.
No words pass between them, the decision was made. Pariah immediately shot off and jumped over the fence. Alex chased after his sister.
Infected Vision was an odd way to name what he mostly felt was sensing than seeing, but then Zeus had always been one to focus on sight. His mind… or his brain goop to be exact, translated what he sensed and mentally marked into his vision.
For Pariah, there was no translation. He did not need the aid of visual. His world remained colorful but his senses tugged at him, guided him where the new chittering link was tied to. Nothing less from the son of Greene.
Patrick Gordon scoured through the yard of some neighbor, knife gleaming in his hand as he strode with purpose towards one area, at someone's unkept bush.
Leaves rustled, and the black blur escaped, but his green eyes easily followed and his hand flashed. Knife cracked the concrete with ugly web of crack surrounding his target. The pathetic furry critter twitched a bit underneath the metal blade within its abdomen.
"Gotcha," Gordon gloated and walked over towards it, then stopped when noticing something.
There the sound of bones shifted and squelching of flesh passing easily through the blade. Like some malleable… biomass, the squirrel cut itself willingly through to free itself from the knife. With bristled tail, it skittered off then turned sharply around. Towards him.
"Sonof-" the words escaped from his lips under his breath.
An angry, chittering ball of violence smacked into his face.
That day, the neighbor's yard was rewarded with the sound violent crashing and swiping. Gordon desperately tried to pull the angry furball off his face, only to feel its sharp black curly claws dragged deeply across his cheeks while its bites intensified on the bridge of his nose.
The oldest Runner, the natural Blacklight, his mother's truest and strongest child… was fighting a squirrel and struggling with it as it face-hugged him.
Granted, it was an infected squirrel, not from the Redlight strain, but its Black-Red variant. But it still shouldn't have been that difficult!
With vice-like grip, his hand squeezed the squirrel, hoping its grips would loosen if he broke something. More cracking of crushed bones and squelching of red biomass oozing between his hand, Pariah ripped the squirrel off his face while baring his teeth at the stinging left from its claws and bite.
He threw the hellspawn onto the ground as he stumbled back, shaking his head and blinking away the pain. Claws and bite marks sealed away before they bled as he glowered when he looked up.
The little shit was still moving on the dry grassy lawn. Tiny flickers of tendrils before it snapped back into shape, albeit sluggish this time.
It was still moving.
Pariah thinned his lips at that and marched toward where his poor, damaged kitchen knife left in the concrete. He pulled out of the crack in the concrete, briefly glancing at its state. Blade jagged a bit, useless no doubt from the impact but he didn't care. He wanted something handy and that can cut. He slid what's left of its sharpness over his hand, letting his thick and black blood coated its edge.
The freak of nature decided to skitter across the yard at that and crashed… through the wooden base of the neighbor's house, disappearing underneath the house.
Gordon hissed and seethed between gritted teeth, the John coming out from his mouth before he immediately dived after it out of choice. And it had to be the day Sasquatch was out of commission. But if he had to delve into dirt, spider webs, and God knows what else - wrestling a rabid infected squirrel in tight-enclosed space probably - then so be it.
Can't let that thing terrorize the neighborhood.
While their older sibling was sorting out a rabid squirrel in the peaceful suburban jungle, the youngest addition was busy leading a chase that was outright… going far too long. Dana couldn't parkour, she couldn't run up walls. But she could easily jump over obstacles with the grace of an acrobat. Unlike her brother behind her, who bashed through wooden fences like some kool-aid man and shoved anything out of his way, with the occasional dents he left behind whenever he jumped or touched while in momentum.
The chase though was one-sided. Despite the serene blankness on her face, Dana was smart and clearly still thinking. She was slower than Alex for he had resource, biomass at his side. He could go on about this for much longer than she could, and to compensate, she dodged and tried to stick to the most obstacles in her course. Up a fence, down another, cutting corners… even climbing on top of houses!
Didn't stop Alex, only to make him grow slightly more annoyed at Runner Dana.
He didn't like this Runner Dana. Too clever, too smart, a dangerous trait for a Runner.
He wanted his old sister back. Alex growled when he skidded at another corner and turned. Screw what Pariah said, he was going to break his promise. Alex sped up in his running alarmingly, dashing across a number of feet with each step. With a jump, he tackled her only to turn in mid-air.
The Mercer siblings landed with a crash, her on top safely while gripped tightly around the waist and chest. She squirmed violently, making protesting noise. And he swore, Dana could probably break someone's bones from just flailing about.
"Stop it!" Alex snapped at his sister as they laid on the ground. With a grimace, realizing he had to stand up… with a very violent wriggling motion in his arms, Alex rolled to his side and onto his knees, pinning Dana to the ground while at it.
With a hard yank, he pulled her up, her arms hooked against her body while he kept a tight grip around her.
Legs still kicking though, as if running on air. Would be cute… if he didn't find the whole day stressful. Alex scowled then felt the worried gaze of some neighborhood busybody standing few feet away from the tussle.
"...she's on a diet," Alex blurted. "We're - I'm trying to keep her from giving in to her cravings."
"Oooh." The sucker's eyes widened in realization.
"It was this or she was going to binge on Ben and Jerry's," Alex went on grimly. At New York, that kind of stupidity was expected considering there were plenty of idiots who would walk into an infected zone… for the most stupidest reasons. The chance of shoplifting or raiding a store, for one.
"I suppose that makes sense. I know I get out of control for my snacks too," the neighbor said understandingly and patted cheerfully on his large round body.
"Yes, well... see you," Alex said awkwardly then walked away with sister heaved on top of his shoulder.
"It was rabid! Didn't you see it trying to kill me?!"
"We saw you gloating over it!"
"It was a vicious killer!"
"It was a squirrel!"
Dirt-covered, his white buttoned shirt stained with dust and earth as with his gray pants. Lost his spectacles even though they were supposed to be in his pocket. A terrified mother with her boy saying how there was a psycho maniac with a kitchen knife in their backyard and a vendetta against an innocent squirrel, said maniac also butchered the innocent critter in front of her little boy's eyes.
Gordon sighed while the mother yapped about police, maniac, and Gordon… being the least expected man to pull this in her backyard.
"I trusted you. I let your children played with mine!"
He would've groaned but instead, he snatched her shoulder into his hand as with the child with the other.
A blank look immediately spread on their face.
"Let's just forget about it, okay," he said with strained cheerfulness, even though he needn't command with a voice at all. "I'll… pay for the damage as well," he added, glancing over the wreck of her garden, the holes in her floorboards inside her home from the squirrel rising from the dead… again.
He let go of them and stepped back, resigned to the fact… other neighbors were watching from outside the fences. Taking the knife, he jumped over the fence he came from and he walked past one of the silent neighbors.
Casually, but hesitating a bit, he heard him call out, "Evening, Gordon."
"Evening," he mumbled and just passed by their backyard, smoothly jumping over another fence.
Back into the street, he walked, tousled hair and staring at the ground, feeling the gaze of others, especially at the state he was in. For a while, they watched until he realized he wasn't the only reason they were glancing at his way. For beside him, Zeus was walking with a sullen woman over his shoulder.
Alex, knowing his eyes were on him turned slightly, blue eyes looking up and down at the dirt on his face and clothes but did not twitch a lip. "Rough day," he commented casually, knowing people were watching the siblings.
"Rough day," Gordon grumbled.
Two days later…
He walked silently between the old buildings of Jersey City, mind filled with whispers as he strolled about only to pause briefly at the sight the red graffiti brick wall. Out of sight, out of mind, forgotten just like the trashes at the side of alleyways and the worn metal railings of fire escape looming over him. Abstract, he would say. Talented as well.
But sloppy and desperate. Beautiful, but troubling.
"She rises, huh," he read the words that decorated obsessively around a shape of a woman, painted black instead of red, hair short… like mother's.
Or was it… no, no. But he couldn't deny it, it looked like mother, but at the same time…
Dana. Zeus would have a fit if he saw this.
Pariah sighed then looked down at the artist, starved and curled up on the ground.
Infected. But no Runner there to coax the disease that had left marks too deep within his brain. Like seeds, the virus slept instead within the cells.
Latent.
He took a seat on the ground beside the homeless man, slightly chuffing at the nostalgic time he slept in alleyways like these too. Pariah leaned against the brick wall and shut his eyes, exhaling before he submerged to the sound of a desperate child screaming out for its mother.
Dana breathed in sharply then opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Her sight was greeted with a wet small snout in the face, particularly her right eye.
"...what the," she mumbled, eyes still hazy and heavy. "A-Alex!" she called out and turned around in the bed.
A pair of black bundle of fur bumped into her this time and tiny whining greeted her ears.
"O...kay," Dana said and blinked at the fact that she was surrounded with… puppies?
The muffled sound of TV greeted her ears. Dana frowned and carefully put the eager bundles of joy out of the way, she slid out of her bed and shuffled into the living room. Frowning for once, feeling heavy and tired, Dana stared incredulously at the being who was on the couch and watching TV.
A black large Labrador with what looked like a golden retriever puppy resting against her belly. The large dog twisted its head, looking up at her and gave a small whine in inquiry before clicking its nail on the red button of the TV remote, switching it off.
"Uh," Dana said, wondering if what she was seeing was a dream.
'Littermate?'
"W-whoa!" She held her hands up. "Who said that?!" she demanded, looking around frantically.
Sasquatch tilted its head.
'Littermate?' This time it was more out of worry. Clearly, she was distressed, but that was okay, Par left something in case of this. Eagerly, Sasquatch moved. The golden retriever snuggling up beside her yelped when she jumped off.
Lolling, Sasquatch's nails clicked across the floor before she stood up to snatch a paper hanging on the edge of the kitchen's counter. She went over towards the human and pass it into her hand.
Dana blinked rapidly at this before pulling the paper closely to her eyes.
Dana, out for grocery. Will get back soon. -A
"Huh," Dana huffed but was more hoping an answer about the dog and puppies. She turned the paper around then realized it was a fully written letter that Alex had written on.
Bee, I take it you're awake if you're reading this. Good. To make this short. You blacked out. You sleep-walked of a sort. You caused havoc. Don't worry, I fixed that. I had to.
Dana glared at the curt words then grimaced, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. Jesus, what did she do?
Your brother helped.
You owe me. Like a lot. I had police came over because of you. My stove was almost set to fire as we had to chase you all over Houston when I was supposed to make dinner.
I'll be away at the moment, like away from Houston. And my dog currently needs to stay away from my family, else they get suspicious. Notice the puppies?
My dog decided she wanted two-week spontaneous pregnancy instead of two months. Don't ask how. She'll be staying with you for two months or more as with the pups. You're gonna help feed her. Don't worry, just get her biscuits. Like a whole lot.
Also, LAY OFF THE MANHATTAN INCIDENT.
Regards, P
Dana put down the letter with a grimace then gazed at the black Labrador dog at her feet. "Well, I guess we better get friendly," she muttered at the mother of the pups.
Sasquatch just barked.
Manhattan
Lieutenant Clint Riley stared at the scene before him. Just as things were about to calm down, this happened. What repairs done on Battery Park was ruined again by a number of new holes in the road, destroyed buildings, shattered glasses and cracked gravels and concretes.
It was just too suspicious.
He'd seen footage of the devastation caused by Zeus. Barrages of tentacles and other time, he saw Zeus was capable of controlling the direction, but only upon release.
But Zeus' favorite, one he often used to destroy hives and military bases, the Groundspike. Black stalagmites that broke through probably twenty feet of concrete and gravel on top, rising up to impale its enemies at an alarming rate.
But usually, it would rise down, go back into Zeus maybe, or become some inert goop that was useless sample for the scientists.
This though. Not this. Riley narrowed his eyes, staring at the corpse of Mother's pet and having to arch back his neck at how large it was. Red bulbous growth, a head with tentacle appendages, its own meaty flesh seeming to spontaneously burst into red spikes, impaling itself.
The spikes there were living testament and was going to be troublesome to clean up because of its tough material. Wiped out a number helicopters and tanks, and another with this before it kicked. Riley wouldn't admit it, but they lost a lot fighting that thing. Except it perplexed him. Didn't look like they were hurting it. Then this happened.
This reeked. Something was wrong. It was just too easy.
Self-destruction?
"Riley!" his radio barked. "Report!"
Riley frowned unhappily, picking up the radio from his belt as Marines and Blackwatch trooped around him.
"It's dead, for real."
"It better be…"