Trager watched the male practically shove the sandwich down his windpipe, proving his wild hunger. The doctor gave a smirk behind his torn mask before adjusting both monocles with almost a smug movement. "And you call us beasts, yet you're scarfing down that food like it's no ones business."

The reporter swallowed heavily and loudly, only speaking after gulping down half of a glass of water. Well, it certainly seemed he didn't care about any form of pollution or piss in the water system. For now, anyway. "I've been running away from you and a bunch of others. You can't tell me that any normal person wouldn't be starving from lack of energy, doctor."

Richard noticed the sneer in the male's voice and his fingers tightened incredibly along the seat he sat in. He swore he left dents as he wondered how this ungrateful bastard wasn't halfway dead yet in his hands. A low snarl left his hidden lips.

"You ungrateful manwhore..." the doctor hissed, narrowing his eyes. Miles merely gave him a look and frowned. "And what did I do now?" But the doctor was already getting up and leaving the area. He had had enough of that little shit. If the male didn't want his help in getting out and only thought for himself, then the insane doctor was going to bring this entire building to freedom.

Slowly, Trager breathed through his pinched lips and seemed to think, lightly leaning back and avoiding eye contact from Miles in the doorway. The boy was probably planning to leave by his lonesome, leaving them all stuck in this mental institute for life. Or, what was left of it. The only way out was through the front doors, and he knew those were locked tight, barricaded and the keys lost. Not surprising in this territory. Surely there was a way to convince the boy to let everyone out. At least to where they could die in the woods. Better be eaten by wolves than insanity that wormed into the brain and consumed every inch of your soul. Oh, wait, that was Walrider.

A series of steps soon echoed behind the male but he didn't move to turn around as he looked around this floor. ...Oh that was right. Miles did happen to stop all of those red flames from reaching the ceiling, didn't he? Those black scorch marks still remained soaked from the water sprinklers above. "...I'm curious," he murmured, now looking to the male now beside him. "Why didn't you let this place crumble to the ground?"

"...Because I needed information," he replied, looking at Trager once and then to the view before them. Ah, that was right, he was a reporter.

A sneer planted itself on his mouth but he hid it from his voice. "It was because you were following the priest, wasn't it? That little makeshift priest that claimed God would save us all. Pt!" He pretended to spit onto the floor. "Now he knows that he probably went to Limbo for his stupidity. Oh well~."

Trager began to walk through the area, knowing that the Walrider wouldn't come in here until a little bit later. Miles didn't know that. "Hm, from what I can recall," the doctor murmured, catching his attention, "he makes his routes around here in about a minute or so." Yup, he had noticed this thanks to just those few cameras. Actually, no, he was just flat-out guessing. But he enjoyed the stunned look on Miles's face.

"Start snapping open the windows. Doors will remain open whenever we pass through so that way-"

"I know, Trager."

Again, the snobbish remarks. Honestly, the doctor wasn't pissed anymore about it. He just wanted to slam his face into the wall so many times he'd crack his own skull right in two. ...Oh he'd have to try that on a patient later. Did the skull crack in jagged places and reveal the brain? Was it a thin and perfect crack? Oho~.

Rolling his wide shoulders, feeling the IV in his arms faintly move as well, he began to walk through the area, bare feet scuffing along the floor like a bored child now. However, he casted his gaze out the window and frowned faintly. It was no longer raining but did the sun shine? Pfft, what kind of question was that? The sun didn't shine at all. Never did it, and never would it.

A hot white crack echoed from his back, fresh pain riddling up his breaking spine. His roar echoed through the whole area, even down to his own room which startled the patients to a daze. Landing on his stomach, he felt blood begin to coat the inside of his hospital mask, that warm fluid crawling down his back.

He glanced up and over his left shoulder, Miles standing above him with a crowbar in his hands. How did he get that!? The doctor reached for his shears immediately and he cried out again, eyes tightly shutting at the new pain as the crowbar plunged through his palm.

"Fucking little shit!" With the horrible twist and crack of his hand, he tugged his hand out of the weapon and immediately removed the shears from his belt to snap them at Miles. The reporter danced out of the way, his face paling incredibly before he turned on his heel and took off.

Trager, slowly moving to his feet, felt his muscles contorting in pain, causing a hiss of pain to unravel from his lips. "...You...mother fucker..." Pressing his bleeding back against the wall, he caught a low and whining snicker that echoed through the room, causing him to look around. Standing nearby, floating like a black genie was the Walrider in all of his glory, arms folded. Trager groaned.

"Fuck off, Walrider. Miles is mine." At that, the Walrider made a gesture around him, as if to say as to what made Miles his, considering the reporter was long gone. "...We had...a fucking deal, Upsher." He took in a breath and bellowed out his next words. "WE HAD A FUCKING DEAL, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I'm going to fucking throttle you, rip your bones and drink your fucking marrow!"

Never had the doctor been this mad. Never had the Walrider been this amused. Never had the hospital echoed like this.

And Miles had never feared for his life like now.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Miles ran, his heart throbbing up high in his throat and windpipe, making it hard to breathe as he sprinted over tables, around tousled furniture and through doors that were unlocked. Every wound he had now burned like the pain of a thousand suns, but that didn't stop him. He was confused and absolutely fearing his life. What had happened? One minute the Walrider had been standing behind Trager, ready to choke him. He had taken the crowbar and attempted to smash it into his back, and he had thought he had sunk into Trager's body. Apparently not.

Now the doctor was getting ready to practically cook him like a new Happy Kid's Meal. He remember the deal, that he did but it wasn't his fault that the Walrider had nearly made him shit his pants. But...how had he disappeared like that? Oh, right, ghost wasn't he?

Sliding on his heels, he slithered right into a locker that he would probably stay in the for the longest of time. His wounds, bullet holes, fingers and his leg all throbbed in pain as he sank down into the very corners of the cold metal hiding spot, breathing heavily and wrapping his arms around himself. Despite himself, he wished for his mother. His parents. His bed...

With a shaky sigh, he put his sweating forehead on his knees, shivering uncontrollably as he kept the camera close to him. "...God damnit. I'm really going to have to get out of here alone, aren't I?" His voice softened to a heavy murmur now as he turned his head, letting himself face away from the locker door. "...I didn't mean to Trager. ...God damnit. He won't listen to shit I say. It's going to be either kill or be killed. And I will not be his prey. I am the sane one, I am the one that will become the top reporter. I am the survivor."

With those thoughts circulating through his mind, Miles Upsher did the only taboo within this hellhole. He fell asleep, hugging his camera and staying inside the locker.