Alma's World
Harlan Wade, mad scientist, arsehole, murderer, a monster who had been his own creator, father, and very guilty man - more guilty than he supposed anyone would ever give him credit for - wasn't getting tortured in hell, and this bugged him more than he ever thought it would. Although he'd never been this guilty before.
He had let his insane, supposedly dead daughter (didn't stop her from walking out of the door and fucking vaporising him, oh no) out of the Vault she had been kept in, knowing full well she'd kill him, precisely because he felt he deserved it; which he did, given that the only reason she was in that Vault was him. It hadn't surprised him that he'd ended up in what appeared to be a sanitarium, which was apparently controlled by Alma herself. It hadn't surprised him that she had come, stared at him for what felt like a year and then just left, abandoning him like he had abandoned her. He had sat, slumped in a corner, alone, except for the brief moments when nightmares of one sort or another would pop up at the window and stare at him.
He had, to be honest, expected a bit more from hell. No matter: he accepted the quiet, closed his eyes and let it wash over him, waiting for the pain to start.
"Hey! Let go of me!"
He opened his eyes, and saw his door opening. Something - it looked vaguely like a scarecrow - dragged a young Asian man into the cell, and threw him next to Harlan. Quite why he was being thrown in here was beyond Harlan's reckoning, but he didn't complain.
"Hello," he said. The Asian man looked over at him, as if expecting him to turn into a demon of some sort at any moment. "Don't worry, I'm as much a prisoner as you are."
The Asian man smiled. "Yeah?" he said. "Well I'm not exactly a prisoner. I shouldn't even be here, the last thing I remember was being dead."
"You are dead," Harlan replied. "This is Alma's mind."
"Uh huh," the young man replied. "Alma being…?"
"My daughter," Harlan sighed, taking his glasses off and wiping them on his coat. A futile gesture on his part given his slight state of death, but old habits die hard. "My name's Harlan Wade. Yours?"
"Steve Chen," the man replied. "And just so you know, 'your daughter' isn't a comforting answer."
"I know that, and I'm sorry for it," Harlan said, smiling grimly Chen looked at him for a moment, then sighed.
"Man, this shit is fucked up," he said, slumping against a wall. "Holes in the floor that eat you - and let me tell you, that in and of itself was pretty fucking bad."
Harlan nodded sympathetically. If he thought hard enough, he could recall his own, pretty appalling demise too, having been liquified like so many others. Needless to say, he didn't think about it much.
"But then instead of pearly gates like I think I deserve for, you know, being a decent guy - or I hope I was a decent guy anyway," he added as an afterthought. Harlan laughed - he knew he hadn't been a decent person, or a semi decent person, or for that matter an anything-other-than-downright-evil person. "I get an afterlife that looks like a nuthouse from every bad movie you've ever seen, creepy little girls…"
"Creepy little girl?" Harlan asked, shocked out of his reverie. "Eight years old, black hair, red dress?"
"Yeah," Chen said slowly.
"That's her," Wade said. "When did you see her?"
"Does it matter?" Chen asked.
"It might be the key to us getting out of here," Harlan replied very seriously, his scientist mind already at work. He didn't really want to escape per se - he deserved this place and it's horror - but if this man, unrelated to this horror, was here, others - Alice - might be too. And if they were, he was damned if he would let them suffer for his crimes. He had been a monster long enough.
Interval 2. Deliberation.
FEAR Briefing Room, Field Command Post.
It was difficult to have a decent briefing when two of the people you were trying to debrief were totally silent regardless of situation or anything you said, but Rodney Betters made it look easy. He was used to working with the quiet types.
The first FEAR team's Point Man - and Rodney had never thought of him by any other name, which struck him as odd - stood at the back of the impromptu briefing room - an armoured van at the edge of the city with a large screen for help briefing troops. The Sergeant from the second team sat on a chair, watching intently. Captain David Raynes watched the screen from a different chair. Nearby were two replacement operatives - one for each FEAR team - a wiry man named Peter Jones and a more heavily built man named Alexander Thomason.
"Alright," Betters said. "Here's the situation. Paranormal mindfuckery is overrunning the streets of Fairport. Before you ask, we managed to get a lot of civilians out of there, and lots more seem to have 'had a feeling' telling them to go." Betters frowned. "But there's still a couple of thousand civilians in there and according to our reports, they won't have survived."
"Damn," Raynes said.
"Quite," Betters said. "Anyway, with Paxton Fettel seemingly back in business inexplicably, the Replica's are a threat again, and we have reason to believe there's more Replica's than just the one's from the prototype battalion. In fact, we have information making us think there's at least four thousand of them in there."
"Thanks for making my day," one of the new guys - Thomason - muttered.
"By the way, Raynes," Betters said, pointing at the two, "that there's Thomason, he'll be your new Sergeant. As for you," Betters said, looking at Raynes' old Sergeant, who was looking at him with a blank look, "I think you're due that promotion to Lieutenant."
Raynes punched his Sergeant in the shoulder in a show of camaraderie. The new Lieutenant gave a faint smile that was fairly half hearted but it was the most Betters had seen out of him, and he took it as happiness. The Point Man from the other team nodded at him in a show of respect, and the Lieutenant nodded back.
"We'll celebrate later," Betters said. The FEAR co-ordinator sighed, clearly less than thrilled about what he had to say next. "I'm afraid, given the circumstances, FEAR has had to declare Stage 0."
Raynes and the more experienced FEAR troopers started slightly, while Jones and Thomason, being less experienced, looked absolutely shocked. Stage 0 was the final stage. War being declared by the entire FEAR organisation.
"Raynes, I'm giving you field command," Betters said, grimly. "Your first objective is to secure a foothold near the warehousing district for Delta Force reserves. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir," Raynes said at once. "There was apparently some Replica activity near there, but I believe it was… taken care of." The older man gave the Point Man a look, and the Point Man returned it, unblinking.
"Alright," Betters nodded. "Now, Den Mother has promised me reinforcements, with the caveat that we have to scout the area with a small number of troops. Essentially, you five, plus medical technician." The Point Man shifted in his seat at that, but Betters ignored him. "That and we have to look for a missing Delta team."
"That happens a lot," Raynes noted.
"Price of working so closely with SFOD," Betters said. "I don't regret it. FEAR doesn't have the manpower for half the shit we're facing, and Dark Signal comes highly recommended."
"We're ready sir," Raynes said.
"Excellent," Betters said. "Get to it Raynes."
Raynes motioned to the Lieutenant and Sergeant Thomason, and the three of them walked out. "Jones," Betters continued, "you'll be working with Point here," the co-ordinator indicated the Point Man.
The new guy looked confused. "Doesn't he have a name?"
"Yes," Betters said without elaborating. "You'll be working with him as part of his squad. Point," Betters said, turning to the silent killing machine. "Your technicians' one Jacob Calhoun. He's got more weapons training than Jin had, so you should be fine with him." Point Man said nothing, instead standing up and saluting, before walking out. Jones looked at Betters, who sighed.
"Well get after him!" he said. Jones scurried after the Point Man.
Point Man.
"You know, I've heard you took on half the Replica Battallion by yourself and won," the new guy says to me, all eagerness and over-politeness. "That's pretty badass."
I hear you're a bad motherfucker. I hope it's true.
He's too eager. Too cheerful. I almost wish he'd shut up but my professionalism stops me - we all start somewhere.
You will be a God among men.
Some of us from stranger beginnings than others.
Men bustle all around. Soldiers in FEAR uniforms, armed with varying weapons. All of them look tense. I suppose because FEAR has never deployed in force before. I lead the new guy to a grizzled man in a uniform similar to Jin's… why does thinking about her make my stomach twist? Still, she is dead and I have a mission to complete, and I will not fail my mission.
"Jacob Calhoun," the man says to me, holding out a hand. I shake it. "Betters tells me you don't speak much, which is good because silent soldiers are the best kind in my opinion."
He looks at Jones, who looks a little intimidated.
"And this is your first mission with FEAR, yes?" he says. "Don't worry. I'll watch your back." He looks at me again. "Betters has put me in charge of the squad, but Raynes is in overall command." He stops as Raynes calls us over.
"Alright," the Captain says. "Calhoun, take Jones and… your Point Man and secure the foothold point. Clear any Replicas, find Dark Signal if you can. We'll meet up with more FEAR troops and a Delta platoon ASAP."
"Understood sir," Calhoun nods. He motions to myself and Jones and we run over to an APC with an SFOD driver.
"I know your stop," he says, "hold on tight." I ignore this piece of advice - rough rides don't bother me. I've been through plenty.
Something tells me this one's going to be the worst.