A/N: I am so sorry for not updating earlier! Things got really busy, but here is the next chapter! Thank you so much for you awesome reviews and support! I love you guys!

Welcome all and any new readers! Please enjoy!

(Miles)

"Fuck." I panted as I watched Chris Walker rip off some poor bastard's head and brandish it like some kind of trophy.

Or maybe as a warning.

"We have to contain it." He growled as he trudged back in the darkness and the decapitated body crumbled to the ground, blood still spluttering from its neck.

Without taking my eyes off the scene, I dug into my jacket pocket and whipped out my notebook.

Log 8:

I can't shake Chris Walker, the big ugly fucker who likes ripping off peoples' heads. I hear him muttering about security protocols, containment.

The bastard was spewing the same crap when he was chasing me back in the Main Building, and a lightbulb slowly went off in my brain.

What if he's not the problem? ...What if he's trying to fix it?

I came across his file a while back, said he was an ex-military police officer and toured Afghanistan a few times. For a moment, I wondered if I ever came across him when I was there years ago.

Before whatever the hell fucked him up and sent him into this craphole.

Slipping my notebook back into its place, I crawled to my feet and hurried down the hallway.

'Gotta find where the basement. Gotta find Young-ja before someone else does.'

The thought of one of the Variants, as I heard they're called, laying their hands on her made me increase my light jog into a full on sprint.

A dead guard's body was slumped over at the end of the hallway, and I could see a keycard jutting out of his breast pocket.

"Don't mind if I do." I mumbled, plucking it up and racing back down the hallway towards the locked shower room.

'If those documents are correct, I can get back to the Administration Block through the showers and go down the elevator to the Laboratory. I will find Young-ja, call her an idiot for coming after me, then kiss the daylights out of her before getting the fuck out of here.'

Reaching the Showers door, I scanned the card and threw the door open, only to be greeted with a pitch dark room.

'Of fucking course.' I flipped my camcorder's night vision on and proceeded into the room.

The floor was littered with crap and damaged boxes, like the many other rooms I've come across.

A metal gated fence circled the interior of the room, and in the distance, I could make out someone hopping down a hole in the ground.

'That must be my way out then. Hold on, Young-ja. I'm almost there.'

Quickly, I made my way down the dark hallway, the sounds of the storm outside growing louder and louder.

Then, a flash of lighting illuminated the hallway for a second, and at the end of the hallway, I could make out two men wielding machetes.

'Oh fuck me.'

Without thinking, I hopped out the window and found myself hanging off a ledge once more.

The rain immediately soaked me to the bone and the thunder rattled my eardrums, but I could still the two men inside speak up.

"My God, he vanished."

'Abracadabra, dipshit.' I squinted against the hard rain and could make out an open window in the distance.

Slowly, I strafed my way across the ledge, trying to keep a firm grip on the slippery wood.

"Vanished without a trace."

"I detect sarcasm."

"It was my intention."

"He thinks we're assholes."

"Or stupid."

'Maybe both, but if you leave me alone, I'll change my mind.'

"Let's pull him in and slit his belly open."

'…..Assholes.'

Suddenly, my right hand slipped and I gasped as I tried to stabilize myself, thumping against the wall in the process.

"Wait. Just a moment." The voice grew closer to the open window I was hanging in front of.

'Shit! Don't look outside! Don't look outside!'

I waited for the ugly fucker to poke his head outside and drag me in, but nothing happened.

'They must've moved on…at least, I hope they did.'

Figuring it was now or never, I lifted myself up and back inside, finding the hallway completely empty.

I seized the opportunity and hurried down the hallway, kicking the exit door open and slamming it behind me.

Bracing myself against the wall, I clutched my chest and tried to catch my breath.

'God, just let me find Young-ja as soon as possible. Please, just allow me that.'

Once I was breathing normally, I made my way forward, keeping my ears peeled for any other surprise visitors.

When another Security door came into sight, I almost let out a squeal of delight.

Almost, mind you.

Busting into the room, my eyes immediately went to the control panel. I inspected the desk and found a button that would open the airlock in the next room.

Figuring it was the next route to take, I slammed my palm on button and the airlock lit up.

And do you know who waltzed it?

Why, it was Chris. Fucking. Walker.

"Oh shit." I breathed, backing away as Walker began slamming his fists against the glass panel, the fragile glass cracking with every assault.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck.' I whipped around and hurried back towards the door.

Only to see an air duct louver hanging from the ceiling on the far side of the room.

Disregarding my original escape plan, I jumped up and climbed my way into the air vent, just as the glass shattered behind me.

Not even bothering to look down, I crawled through the vent until I reached an opening.

I hopped down and found myself back in the hallway.

The security door behind me was rattling at its hinges, and I knew I had to get the hell out there.

Snatching the camcorder up, I flew down the hallway as the door busted open and Walker was on my heels once more.

A loud BANG echoed down the hallway, and the airlock busted into flames, consuming much of the area in front of me.

Thinking back on it, trying to run through the flames was a stupid move, but I had no other choice.

It was that or die by Walker's hand.

Just as I passed the burning airlock, another loud BANG was heard and I was blasted out of the window and into the darkness.

And what do I land on, but a pile of dead bodies.

(Young-ja)

What I found in that folder was not documents, but videos and pictures.

Images and footage of patients stuffed inside these glass orbs with wires and tubes jammed into their frail bodies like pin cushions.

The time stamps on the photos varied from last night to sixty years ago.

As the clock turned back with each click, the photo quality became grainer and faded, but the contents still made my stomach turn.

Men, women, and children strapped to hospital beds, their eyes forced open with metal probes and boils and large tumors covering their bodies. Even with the lack of color, it was obvious those tumors were horribly discolored and leaking some type of black puss.

June 1943 said the time stamp.

The height of World War II.

I couldn't help but shiver when I realized these were pictures from a Nazi laboratory.

The next file I clicked on was an audio clip labeled "Interview".

It jumped in a few places due to its apparent age, but I still could make out what was said.

"Exit Interview recorded December 27th 1985 in Los Alamos, New Mexico." A male voice-a reporter? - declared. "Clearance Sierra Alpha. Subject Dr. Rudolph Wernicke. 14866."

"The films…are real." Another male voice spoke up, this time with a German accent.

"There was no altercation with the footage at all? No trickery?"

"None."

"In June of 1943, you recorded three instances of spontaneous bleeding. A half dozen test subjects began to develop brain tumors."

'June of 1943.' Same as those photographs. That means…this….this Dr. Wernicke is responsible for that. Could he also be responsible for Project Walrider?

"Yes. The autopsies revealed that the tumors were pure lead."

Pure lead?! Jesus Christ…

"It killed them? Could you explain why the results could not be reproduced in the United States?"

"I have my theories. My homeland, in those years. It's impossible to understand the things we felt. What we believed. The overwhelming fear. Ecstatic rage and…..English words are insufficient. More than hope. A human mind in that environment is capable of extraordinary things."

"You're saying the experiment needed…"

"A proximity to death. To overwhelming madness. Only a test subject who had witnessed enough horror was capable of activating the engine."

"Do you believe your test subjects achieved something supernatural?"

"No."

"Do you think they contacted something supernatural?"

"Nothing is supernatural."

"Then what was it? You said project WALRIDER was a gateway. A gateway to what?"

The audio cut off, so I don't know what Wernicke's answer was.

And in truth, I'm not sure I wanted to know.

Waylon's words started to echo in my head.

"The Walrider. It's what Murkoff has been doing all these insane experiments for. To create the perfect host for the greatest weapon ever."

And so, Murkoff worked with a former Nazi scientist to make this dream a reality?

I heard sick, unimaginable things were happening in Nazi Germany at that time, but this is fucking unbelievable.

Were they going to use the Walrider to win the war?

What does Murkoff gain by doing this?

Why dig up old Nazi experiments now?

Did they believe they could achieve something with modern technology?

Well, if so, Murkoff achieved their goal because the Walrider is running rampant throughout the asylum, killing its creators and possible hosts alike.

But now, that begs the question.

Who is the current host?

Scrolling through the folder, I found the only file with a name on it.

William Hope

"Billy…" I breathed, recalling the musings of that patient at the guard tower.

Clicking on the file, the screen quickly became covered with various photos and videos.

The first photo to catch my eye was from when Billy was admitted to the asylum. He was a cute, young man with bright blue eyes, freckles, and messy brown hair.

The next photo was from two months later. Gone were the innocent blue eyes and boyish cuteness. What stared back at me was a deathly pale, bald man with dead, gray eyes and scars engrained into his paper-thin skin.

"You poor boy."

The next thing I clicked on was what looked like an interview. Billy was sitting in-no, he was strapped to a wooden chair with cameras and screen surrounding him.

"Let me go home." Billy sobbed, his voice like nails against a chalkboard. "I want my mommy. She will make it go away…..make the pain go away."

"You're not going anywhere, Hope." One of the people behind the camera butted in, his tone as cold as ice. "Now, tell me about your dream last night. The one with the tall man in it."

"No….tall man…evil…surrounding by buzzing..it never stops…never stops….NEVER STOPS!" Billy thrashed against his restrains, screaming bloody murder. "Father! Save me! I know you are there! Stop the burning! STOP IT! SAVE MEEEE!"

The footage cut off right as a dark cloud seemed to form behind Billy.

"What the hell did they do to you?" I whispered, reaching out and touching the frozen image on the screen. "You were only a child…."

Then, in the distance, I heard something whirl to life.

Rising from my perch, I slowly made my way to the adjacent airlock, the sound growing louder.

The airlock led into another cave-like hallway with marrow scattered across the wall and ceiling.

The whirling sound grew louder, like it was beckoning me, and I complied with its call.

It lead me to a room blocked off with safety glass and on the other side was a man in a wheelchair.

"Hello, Fraulein." He greeted in an airy voice, and I felt my skin prickle.

That voice…

"You're….Dr. Rudolph Wernicke, aren't you?"

"In the flesh…unfortunately." He moved his wheelchair closer to the glass separating us, and I realized the sound I heard was his wheelchair.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead? The Walrider has slaughtered everyone in the basement, so what makes you so special?"

"Because I am special….at least, in Billy's eyes." His wheelchair stopped right in front of me, and I could see how transparent his skin was. "He…he thinks of me as his father. The poor idiot."

That insult ticked me off, and I punched the glass wall, not fazing the man a bit.

"I saw the interview clips. He was just a boy! How could you do that to him?! How could you do that to all the patients here AND the ones you tortured back in Germany!?"

Wernicke said nothing, just continued to stare at me with a blank expression.

"Why didn't you leave your research back in Nazi Germany?!" I hissed at him, wishing the glass wall would disappear so I could strangle him with his life support tube. "Why did you let a fucked up company like Murkoff get their hands on your work?!"

No matter what answer he gave me, there would be no sympathy.

Everything Miles, Waylon, the patients, and I went through…was because of this monster.

"Murkoff studied my research extensively and found a workaround to the problems we came across back in the war. The cells in the human body could turn into nano-factories using the their basic function to produce molecules." Wernicke sighed and wheeled over to the Walrider Project logo on his wall. "You probably find our work mad and ludicrous; you'd be right. Using insane men as a catalyst for a god, but it is too late now. The damage has been done."

"So you are just going to sit here and hide?!" I punched the glass once more. "The Walrider is your creation! Can't you stop all of this?!"

"Look at me, child. I'm all but a walking corpse now. I want to die, truly I do, but Billy won't let me."

"But there has to be something!" I leaned against the glass pane, pleading. "Too many people have died for this damn experiment. This needs to end now, Dr. Wernicke."

"The only way to stop this…is to murder Billy."

"What?" I stumbled backwards. "M-murder Billy?"

"The Walrider needs a host to live. Without a living host, The Walrider will vanish." Wernicke returned to his position before me. "Can you do it? Can you undo my mistake and cut off Billy's life support?"

I gaped at him, not believing what I just heard.

"B-But Billy is innocent. He is the way he is because of you and Murkoff! Can't we just separate Billy from The Walrider?!"

"Impossible." Wernicke shook his head. "Billy is no longer human. He is but a shell for The Walrider to inhabit. There is no man to save now. Just a monster."

"I didn't come here to kill someone!" I kicked the glass window, rattling it.

"Then why are you here? What could possibly possess you to willingly enter this place?"

"My husband. He received a call from one of your employees to expose Murkoff's experiments. He never came home, so I'm here to find him."

Wernicke scoffed, shaking his head.

"You've done nothing but damn you both. However, if you cut of Billy's life support, you'll both live. I can guarantee that."

"I..I can't."

"Aren't you angry? Look at yourself." He gestured with his chin to my bloodied, torn dress, useless hand, and overall horrible appearance. "You've seen for yourself the damnation my work has brought onto the people here. So finish it for me, child."

"Bu-."

"Billy is in the Morphogenic Chamber. See for yourself what a sorry state he is in. Perhaps you will change your mind." Wernicke turned away and wheeled back towards his desk. "Just remember, no one can escape while Billy is alive."

I stared at the back of his wheelchair, my mind trying to catch up with my body.

Then, slowly, I backed out of the room and into the hallway.

'The Morphogenic Chamber…'

My body gradually moved down the hallway, like someone else was controlling it.

Like something was pulling me forward.

Down several more hallways and up a flight of stairs, I found myself standing in front of an automatic door with The Walrider Project logo plastered on it.

Taking a step forward, the door hissed and slowly opened, revealing an operating computer room. Even though there wasn't a soul, the computers typed away like there was.

I approached the front desk and peered out the window to see the glass orbs from the photos surrounding a large machine.

And I could see someone inside one of them.

Quietly, I made my way out of the observation room and down the stairs.

And there was Billy, tubes jutting out of his transparent skin and staring mindlessly at the images flashing across the screen in front of him.

"See for yourself the sorry state he is in. Perhaps you will change your mind."

"Kill you would be an act of mercy." I slowly approached the orb and rested my left palm and forehead against it. "You're just as much a victim as anyone else, Billy. You are a child…with the power of a god. That is enough to drive anyone crazy. I don't blame you for what you've done, but….I can't let this go on, Billy. So, please, let me ease your pain. You wanted to the pain to go away, right? I'm going to do just that, sweetheart. Then you can be at peace. I promise you that."

I gazed up at his lifeless eyes, not expecting a response.

So, I was surprised when his eyes met mine.

"Bil-?"

Before I could finish, I was lifted up into the air and pinned against the wall.

I screamed and tried to struggle against my invisible assailant, but to no avail.

Then, slowly, a black mass morphed before me and I stared into the hollow eyes of The Walrider once more.

"Oh God no…."

A/N: Sorry, Miles, it won't be that easy to get to Young-ja. Lol. And I wanted to show the more caring/maternal side of Young-ja still exists. It was Billy calling out for his mother that got her. And Young-ja is unable to kill anyone, despite what she thinks. Please look forward to the next chapter! Thank you very much for reading!