Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

Interval 01:

Premonition

The darkness was his friend…, that's what Michael kept telling himself, all these years. When the nightmares came, he found that embracing this shroud of the unknowing had served to ease his mind through many a fortnight.

Not this time…

His senses cloyed with the stench of oil and smoke, the clammy air heavy with malice, closing like a glove around him. Wind howled relentlessly past the Delta soldier, sounding like some horrible beast unto itself. Given, he'd rather not know whether that assumption was remotely true or not…

All he'd have to do is stay there, thinking those happy, peaceful thoughts of yesteryear, and eventually… he'd reach that warm and cozy place he called home once again.

Sadly… a little girl had other plans for him…

"Te-he-he…"

Sgt. Michael Becket awoke with a start, his hard eyes deeming that he was facing cracked, horribly charred asphalt; he'd been lying prostrate on the ground. It was so very… very dark outside, sans the cherry glow from the nearby flames that wreathed the wrecked car at his side.

Synoptic flashes of golden light brooked across his vision, nearly blinding him from the intensity. His head swam with nausea, like the worst hangover ever. Michael clearly blanched at this, wishing that whatever was making it happen was just stop.

As if on queue, it did.

'What… what was that …?'

Gloved hands found purchase underneath him, indicating his default military fatigues… just prior to moving out with his unit: Dark Signal. He rose unsteadily to his knees… and froze when he looked up.

The skies bled rolling fire, with dark clouds racing by overhead, dyeing the Earth as red as lifeblood. It was as if all manner of eight kinds of hell had been unleashed on the world.

"Where is this? …Am… am I… dreaming?"

"Do you see?"

A tremor shot down Becket's spine. There was no mistaking that he'd heard a voice that time, one bore of timeless youth and serenity. Somehow… it was so familiar.

He lowered his gaze… and was met with an unforgettable sight.

Amidst all the chaos of their surroundings, there she stood… looming over the older man like he was no more than a speck of dirt beneath her.

Unbelievable… was one way to describe her. Incredibly pale, luminescent skin, glowing in the streetlamp; long dark, velvety raven hair… cascading down over her back and shoulders in lavish waves. Her countenance was that of a blossoming deity; soft, full lips of a similar pallor set into a gentle, heart-shaped face, with unkempt locks and strands of her lovely hair framing around her innocent features. A rather plain looking long-sleeve dress adorned her petite frame, cut to mid-thigh. Clutched in one hand was a raggedy, deformed doll… covered in blood?

He was more than aware that it wasn't just on that thing either. There was quite more… caked onto her feet, calves, hands, even the hem of her skirt was peppered with it.

Though from who though…

For someone who looked to be no older than seven or eight years of age… she was remarkably calm.

What really perturbed him however... was, her eyes.

Golden orbs of unbridled emotion spilled from within her depths, further accentuated by the almost complete darkness that surrounded her eye sockets. Anger, sadness, despair, loneliness, loss; all of this and so much more teeming with thoughts that went unspoken by her.

How could children be so clairvoyant was one of the greater mysteries of the world… and it was no such different for the little girl standing ponderously over him.

This child…… this beautiful girl--she practically exuded with divine power, like some angel of celestial bereavement sent to rend him, body and soul… should she wish it.

Michael grew tense. What did she want from him? Her expression was blank, but there was this small, almost nigh imperceptible smile touching her lips, reminiscent of how children acted when they knew a secret they were just dying to tell.

Time slowed reverently for her, hurdling by at a dawdling pace to allow this one precious moment between them to last.

Finally, the words that were bouncing around in Michael's head formed into speech, though he sounded unsure. He felt that it was almost akin to insulting to address this being in such a way.

"W-Who… are you?" he barely whispered.

A light wind breathed past them, kissing at the girl's lovely hair that swayed elegantly to and fro. And once again, that dainty smile was there as she leaned down to his level, raven-black bangs falling over her face like silk, golden-red eyes leering into his cold blue ones.

"You came back for me…I always knew you would…"

Confused, if not terrified, Becket sought out the girl's face for clues. What did she mean, came back? Did he know her somehow, sometime…… in a past life?

Much to her sorrow, the dark-haired goddess could feel it from within him, that missing part vying to break free of the constraints built into his mind. There were many locks, and only one key to open them…

…The key that she would provide. Certain ones however would take more time to undo, and even then, she couldn't push him too far… lest he become broken like she had almost been, thanks in part to her loathsome father…

A cold, bloodstained hand reached out to Michael's broad, well defined face. Instinctively he flinched in fear of being dissolved before the young girl, like she had done so with so many others that had crossed her.

But not him…

Her palm was smooth and wet, yet he made no other move to defy her. And somehow, he had this odd feeling that he knew why she would not harm him. But what was it?

She stroked his face tenderly, and spoke reassuring words of comfort from her hauntingly melodious voice, "They forced you to forget about us…about all the wonderful things you and I shared."

The girl's tone dipped to a more dejected state of mind, and in his reverence, all Becket wanted to do was hug her.

"But it shall be for naught." Alma declared, her inner self now gleaming with wanton vengeance to those who wronged them. A dark aura suffused her soul, and enfolded around them in a mirroring miasma.

Soon… we'll be just like we were… so long ago."

Becket watched in transfixed awe as the little girl seethed with pent up rage, a stifling air of malevolence emanating from her body. The shroud of inky-black malice, like dark water suspended in motion, accentuated her figure from head to toe. It made her feel… terribly cold.

Alma's golden-red eyes glowed dangerously, her face set in a look just parallel to ominous. Her words were just as soft, now dripping with venom.

"They will pay……The sinners' shall reap what they have sown, and be burn on their way down into the void for whence they came-

And just like before, the Delta operative's first reaction to such a frightening child… whose abilities were quite unnatural… was to shy away from her touch… no matter how gentle it may seem. He'd never been intimidated by someone like this before… much less an enthralling young lass of eight.

'What the hell… is she…?'

Alma could sense the distress from deep within Michael, amplified further by her unfortunate attuning to the negative spectrum of human emotions… and it nearly rent her heart in two seeing him afraid. For many years, she had sought for this moment between them. To be reunited at last with her unrequited love from so long ago…

How could she have been so stupid, scaring him like this?

"I……"

Michael's initial uncertainties towards the raven-haired girl's motives, gave way as he watched her expression change from that of resentment… to one of… remorse? That nigh emotionless mask, with the wispy smile just for him, was no longer there. Those gorgeous pools of golden flame and ruby tears… were swimming with desolation. That timeless countenance of innocence and beauty yearned for something she'd been denied all her life, her lips curling into painful sadness that she was trying to hold in check.

Though the girl didn't know this, the older man felt like berating himself for somehow upsetting this princess of darkness.

Little did he know; she was thinking the same thing about herself…

Her cool, soft fingers traced the curve of his face in a vaguely maternal way…

"…I'm sorry," she said shakily, her harmonious voice not belying her true feelings. "My anger would never be misplaced to those who mean the most to me…"

The sorry excuse for a doll fell from Alma's grasp, landing in a forgotten heap at her blood-drenched feet. She knew what she needed… desired …and in fulfilling this one simple wish, she need not but to accept, give in.

Inching forward to the Delta soldier's genuflect position before his goddess, …she wrapped her arms ever so slowly around his neck and embraced him, nuzzling her soft face against his faintly coarse features, deep raven hair clouding around them.

Alma's shaded eyes of malevolent flare and honey became heavy with bliss, allowing a small, pleasant-sounding moan to escape her lips, "Mmmm…"

Becket felt his heart skip for a moment. There it was again: that unconditional love she claimed for him. As much as his brain tried to deny it, not to mention how… wrong it might have felt coming from a girl who was not even half his age… all signs pointed to the obvious.

She loved him.

The moment it clicked, Becket sought nothing more than to wake up from this lucid nightmare and check in at the insane asylum. Or better yet, he could eat a bullet and spare himself of the overhanging trepidation instead…

For the barest of moments, Alma could sense it again. Becket's memories, suppressed and stolen from him in his childhood years, flickering back and forth into their minds like a shared photo album. Project Paragon had brought them together at one point… and those had been some of the most wonderful days of her life.

But…, it had also severed their special bond just as quickly. The forcibly induced amnesia bestowed upon the children of Wade Elementary after experiments, had all but erased Alma's cherished link with the then, nine year old Michael.

"I can't recall…" she murmured, her full lips drawn back in merriment, "the last time we were like this."

The malice of Alma's wrath still shimmered behind her, though now she had this godly azure luminosity emanating from the darkness unto the stunning deity.

Michael's arms felt like dead weights. Here he was, in some ghastly realm of this girl's design, being held in such a tender way that it made him feel… tainted. He did not know whether to hold the delicate child, or to weep at how pathetic he must be to have a deity so very young profoundly in love with a man reaching his late twenties.

What madness had overtaken him, he thought.

Pale, soft skin of Alma's cheek glided across Becket's own as she curved her face inmost to him… the unruly mop of ebony hair hanging like a sheet over her half-closed eyes, making her countenance appear darker… more alluring.

A whisper of cool breath wafted over his neck… Without any forethought… her full, supple lips met gently upon his face.

"A-ahh…"

He couldn't help but gasp at the sensations dancing along his jawline. Alma's kiss felt unlike any woman's before it; Silky smooth and cold as ice… yet still every bit as gentle as she'd been with him thus far… the way her lips applied steady pressure to his cheek nearly made him collapse.

The moment, she knew, was drawing to a close. Very soon, Becket would awaken back in the real world… and she would be left all alone with her thoughts… just as she had many times previous to.

Alma eventually relented, her soft lips smacking delightfully against the tranquility of her surroundings. The sky overhead that blazed infernally was fading away like smoke in the wind.

"…Time is growing short. Those who seek to divide us forever more are fast approaching…" She had started trembling, her voice sounding fearful for the very first time.

Alma stepped back; away from the comfort she had grown so accustomed to, that familiar sadness now lingering on her angelic visage. Oh how she wished to reel him against her for all the time in the world, to share this warmth everlasting…

"My other self… longs for reprisal. She will not stop until the world is wreathed in death and torment…"

Becket, while only partially aware of his fading conscience, reached out a hand to the retreating form of the girl… whose body was turning to ash before his very eyes.

"Wait...!" he mustered, his hardened resolve coming back to him. "Who are you?"

It was the one question she had yet to answer him, on top of the endless amount of others. How did she know him? When did they meet? Why had he no recollection of anything from his past, about her…?

Streaks of tears fell from her golden-red eyes, her expression nothing short of heartbreaking.

"She's here…"

A pair of hands, black and blue with old blood running in lifeless veins leapt out of the dark behind him… clasping at his skull.

He could hardly utter a cry as his neck was twisted around with the sound of vertebrates snapping…

And came face to face with true horror of which he'd never seen… her eyes sunken like hematite stones into the emaciated, blood-drenched features of the woman. A cruel smile was painted onto her dry, cracked lips…

Orange flashes of blinding light drowned Michael's vision, and pain like the fires of hell scorched his skin as it was peeled away like a ripe orange. As his body was consumed into perpetual suffering, he plunged irrefutably into the dark void of death, though not before he could hear the lamentation of one little girl, crying out for him.

"Wake up!"