Author's note: This chapter contains a considerable amount of POV-switches. Horizontal lines represent these changes in POV.
Also, if you're reading this, congratulations! Not many made it past the Prologue. I suspect that's because of the word count turning them away. Or maybe they were just curious. Anyway, the events that you saw in the Prologue are now going to have some relevance in this chapter. And, also, new cover image that isn't something random I nabbed off my PC!
II.
"INOCULATION AND INQUIRY"
Grey, dingy clouds hung overhead in City 17, casting a dull white light down every district. Through the sky, a Dropship cruised toward it's destination: the Terminal Restricted Zone, a decrepit section of City 17, walled off on all sides, and infested with all kinds of dangers. Inside the Dropship's troop carrier container, a team of four Transhuman soldiers stood in a line, facing the door.
The first, a Wallhammer unit. Blue armor with heavy pauldrons and thigh guards, equipped with a powerful Heavy Pulse Shotgun and a wrist-mounted shield projector, it was the closest a human could come to being invincible.
The second, a Grunt. Almost completely unarmored, and carrying a Pulse SMG, he was a highly mobile but squishy target, and a great flanker. He carried with him two grenades, the signature tan jumpsuit, and a tank of gas on his back.
The third, a Suppressor. Wearing a flak jacket and sporting an unusual helmet, he was equipped with a hefty PMG, capable of slinging anti-matter bolts with such power and volume that attempting to peek him would almost certainly result in death.
The last, all the way at the back, an Ordinal. Wearing blue armor, a radio backpack and carrying with him the precise but slow-firing AR1, the Ordinal was the team's leader, and responsible for relaying information to Overwatch.
The shaking inside the troop carrier container would come to a slow as the Dropship descended. It hovered just above the cracked and overgrown street of the Terminal Restricted Zone, as the troop carrier door opened downward, becoming a ramp. The soldiers filed out one by one, and took up cover positions behind the derelict pre-war cars scattered about the street. The carrier's door closed behind them, and the Dropship flew away, leaving them alone in the Terminal Restricted Zone.
The Ordinal opened radio communications. "Stabilization Team holding position. Awaiting advance directive. Over."
The Ordinal received a response from Overwatch. "Stabilization Team Leader: Airwatch reports heightened Necrotic activity in location. Inoculate sector, and report."
The AI voice of Overwatch paused for a moment, before resuming.
"Reminder: Failure to treat identified local outbreak, will force team recall, and recycle." It ended.
The Ordinal responded. "Copy that. Contain and control is underway." He closed comms with Overwatch, and addressed his team directly.
"Overwatch confirms, we are in an infestation zone. Daggers free, prepare to inoculate."
He received a few "Copy thats" from his team, before standing up.
"Wallhammer, take point." He ordered.
"Roger. Advancing." And at the Ordinal's command, the Wallhammer unit began to walk forward through the maze of cars, his heavy armor plates creating metallic thunking noises with every step. The rest of the team followed behind the Wallhammer, advancing deeper into the Terminal Restricted Zone...
Sonic's eyes fluttered open gently as he felt the warm, dull sunlight on his face. He slowly rose from his sleeping position, stretching his arms and yawning. Immediately, the cut he sustained the day before makes itself known with a low, throbbing pain. He places his hand on the bandaged wound and applies pressure in a vain attempt to mitigate the pain. It seems all that limping around yesterday may have had a terrible impact on his leg's ability to heal itself.
He looks beside himself, to Miles' mattress, to see that Miles' is not there. He thinks Miles must have already woken up.
'Better not keep him waiting...' Sonic rose to his feet, using the wall to support himself. As he does, he catches his stomach making a growling noise. Ignoring his stomach, he walks into the computer room, nearly tripping on a large cable on the floor. There, he finds Miles at a terminal, watching something intently. Sonic knocks on the counter. With a small jolt, Miles turns to see Sonic.
"Oh! You scared me!" Miles lets out a sigh before awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
"Pfft- Sorry." Sonic chuckles. "So, something interesting about that screen?" Sonic points toward the screen while grabbing the counter for support.
"Oh, uhm... Well..." A sour expression draws itself on Miles' face. "It's nothing good... I'm picking up way more radio chatter than usual... Something's got the Combine stirred up."
Sonic's expression now mimicked Miles'. "Oh. That, uhh... Yeah, that's not good..."
His stomach rumbled again, catching Miles' attention.
"Well, Combine or no Combine, a man's gotta eat!" Sonic tries to lighten the mood with a half-joke, patting his belly.
"Sonic, you're in no condition to be scavenging... Especially with so many soldiers running around..." Miles worriedly reminds him.
"Me? Pssh- I'm fine." Sonic shrugs his shoulders and leans back in an attempt to look collected and cool.
"Sonic, you've been supporting yourself on that counter since I turned around." Miles flatly points out.
"Nah, I can stand just fine, dude. Watch!" Sonic attempts to stand upright without holding onto the counter, but is forced to catch himself on the counter as he begins to lose his balance and fall.
"I'll look for food today. You need rest. Your body won't heal if you keep pushing it." Miles protests Sonic's attempt at appearing strong.
"Wait, wait, what? You, going out?" Sonic suddenly seemed confused.
"Is there something wrong with that?" Miles asked.
"Buddy, you just told me that the Combine are dropping squads in our area, and you expect me to just be cool with you saying you're gonna go out?"
Miles begins to become timid, his ears folding down and back. "Well, we're out of food, you're injured... It should fall to me to look for food. I can handle myself, you know!"
"I'm not trying to say you can't buddy- I'm just sayin', it's not smart."
"You were more than ready to do it just a few moments ago, and you can barely stand." Miles was slowly beginning to become irate and desperate.
"That's not- look, let's just wait it out, alright? My leg will be a bit better in a couple days, and I can just go find a Headcrab or something..."
Miles turns his head down and away in submission. He still has more to say, but he can feel Sonic becoming frustrated.
'Sonic doesn't think I can do it... he's worried about me getting hurt.' Miles thought to himself.
Sonic saw Miles' silence as an admittance of understanding. Sonic placed his hand on Miles' shoulder and smiled. "Just a couple days without food. We've done it before, we can do it again. No biggie."
Miles remained silent, but placed his hand on top of Sonic's. "Yeah..."
Sonic pats Miles' head, before limping out of the room.
Miles watches as he does. In his head, he was already formulating a plan. A plan to prove himself capable of handling the Restricted Zone.
Somewhere, deep below the Earth, in an abandoned subway station...
"Wallhammer clearing."
A powerful kick impacts a metal door, destroying the padlock which kept it sealed, and causing it to swing open with tremendous force.
The Wallhammer unit lowered his Heavy Pulse Shotgun from a high-ready position to waist level, as he took a few steps forward, moving through the door and turning left. Before him was an old subway platform, shrouded in darkness, barely illuminated by his helmet's eye-lights. He observed the darkness for a few moments On his left, a wall, and his right, a derelict train car. He heard a terrible cacophony of moans coming from the dark.
"Audibles." The Wallhammer said flatly. Behind him, came the Grunt, with his Pulse SMG. He ran up and took a kneeling position behind the Wallhammer. Following shortly after, the Ordinal and Suppressor came, each taking a position beside the Wallhammer.
"Echo One, light." The Ordinal ordered. The Grunt took out a flashlight and aimed it toward the dark. Within it's thin cone of light, many zombies were revealed. So many, in fact, that the exact number did not matter. They, one by one, turned to the soldiers, and began their slow march.
"Echo One, set bouncers free. APF, Wallhammer, proceed with inoculation." The Ordinal ordered. He received three 'copy that's in unison.
The Grunt took a grenade off his belt. It was a peculiar, yellow, square device with a sphere in it's center. He firmly pressed a button in, and the square bits came off, leaving a beeping yellow ball in his hand. The Grunt chucked it toward the zombies, where it then exploded and killed a few scores of them.
Following afterward, the Suppressor and Wallhammer began to open fire. The APF moved his PMG's continuous stream of punishment from left to right, eviscerating the zombies, as the Wallhammer, one by one, blew the heads off the zombies on the right. They met in the middle, and no zombies were left. Only a large, steaming pile of corpses.
It all went quiet.
"Looks clean, Ordinal." The Grunt said.
"Affirm. Echo One, Wallhammer, apply forward pressure."
"Copy that." The Wallhammer and Grunt replied in unison. The Ordinal and Suppressor stayed in their positions, while the Wallhammer and Grunt began to approach the mass of bodies with their weapons drawn.
The Grunt and Wallhammer kicked every corpse individually, checking for vital signs. But there was nothing. No signs of life.
"All quiet in the pit." The Wallhammer said aloud. The Grunt turned back to the Ordinal and Suppressor, who were lowering their weapons and beginning to approach, as the Wallhammer began looking forward, further down the subway platform.
The Suppressor looked up at the train car beside the Grunt and Wallhammer, and he noticed a glimmer of movement. Headcrabs.
"Parasitics!" He pulled his PMG up and aimed at the top of the train car, and opened fire. In the time it took for his gun to spool up, a few of the Headcrabs had managed to drop down on the Grunt and Wallhammer, while any more that attempted to drop were getting shredded.
"Holy shi-!" The Grunt began backpedaling while opening fire with his Pulse SMG. "Back down, back down!"
"Assist on Wallhammer! Assist!" The Wallhammer cried out as he quickly became surrounded by Headcrabs. His powerful shotgun managed to blow one to pieces, and continuous fire from the Grunt killed another, but a third behind him lunged, and grappled with his head...
"Wallhammer is compromised, displace! Displace!" The Ordinal ordered. The Grunt began rapidly backing away, but it was too late. In a blinded panic, the Wallhammer began unloading it's Heavy Pulse Shotgun. A stray pellet hit the valve on the Grunt's gas tank, which ignited.
"No, NO! GET IT OFF, GET IT O-" the Grunt cried out in panic as he tried fruitlessly to rip the gas tank off his back, but it was too late. The gas tank exploded, violently killing him, the Ordinal, and the Suppressor.
The Wallhammer felt as the parasite dug it's claws into his chest, anchoring itself over his helmet. He dropped his shotgun and began clawing at the Headcrab, trying to rip it off, but he only ended up cutting up his hands on it's spiky armor. Then, with a loud crunch and an agonizing pain, the Wallhammer fell to the ground, and began violently convulsing, desperately holding in his pain with labored, quick, sharp breaths.
He sent out a radio communication to the Overwatch AI.
"... Overwatch... Stabilization team... Overrun... Wallhammer... Still... Active..."
Overwatch responded. "Command requesting damage assessment."
"... Total..."
...
"Incoming reinforcements."
It was beginning to grow dark outside now. The sun was setting. For Sonic and Miles, this would ordinarily be the time they both headed to bed, and indeed for Sonic, it was. But Miles was not asleep like Sonic. He was getting ready for a late-night excursion into the Restricted Zone. He told himself he was looking for food, but in truth, he was looking for evidence to show Sonic, to prove he was just as capable.
He slung the same backpack Sonic wore just yesterday over his back, attached the reprogrammed Manhack to his hip, and fashioned a club out of a chair leg. This was well and good, he thought, but he didn't want to charge into this without a back-up plan. So, he placed a tracker in his backpack. If in the event something went wrong, it would be there to give Sonic a head's up.
With everything ready, Miles sneaked out of the apartment complex, and reached the ground floor. He carefully crawled out of the shattered glass door, and emerged on the street.
It was pitch black. Not only was it a cloudy night, but it was a new moon as well. Pair that with street lights that haven't been turned on in some twenty or so years, and a giant megastructure stretching a few miles into the sky casting it's shadow over the city, and you had a recipe for disaster.
For anyone other than Miles.
Miles was a fox, and like foxes, his eyes were more than capable of making out his surroundings, even in this advanced darkness. With a light-footed step and a low profile, Miles made his way through the Restricted Zone. His goal was simple: Find, and kill a Headcrab, and bring it home to eat in the morning.
He knew Sonic would be mad, but he also knew Sonic would appreciate having something to eat in the morning after going to bed on an empty stomach, and he also knew that if he was successful, Sonic would have no leverage to suggest Miles was not capable of handling himself.
And he knew that if he was to ever have a chance of finding him, there was a lot he needed to learn.
Miles shook his head. One step at a time. Just focus on what's in front of you.
Streets that stretched for miles. Dilapidated buildings in varying states of disrepair. The occasional corpse. Sometimes human. Sometimes Mobian. Sometimes something else. Just find a Headcrab...
Miles eventually stumbled across something. It looked like a stairway built into the sidewalk, which descended deep into the Earth. A subway station! This was perfect, and exactly what Miles needed. Headcrabs love dark areas to nest in, so there was bound to be at least a few.
One step after another, Miles descended deeper and deeper into the bowels of the pre-war world. The further down he got, the worse the smell of rot, decay and other smells he couldn't describe got. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he was in some kind of lobby, with ticket booths and rotating tolls.
He also noticed some Xen flora growths on the walls and floor, which were letting off putrid yellow spores. He'd love to document all the species of Xen flora he encountered, but not only was he pressed for time, he also didn't want to be near the flora for too long. He'd seen what it could do to somebody before.
He pressed onward, down another set of stairs, to the actual subway platform. It was very dark down here, but yet still, his fox eyes allowed him to form a basic outline of his surroundings. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, in front of him was a derelict train, and to his left, a long subway platform enshrouded in darkness. To his right, a door locked with a Combine lock.
He turned away from the door. He'd come back to it some time later, perhaps. He began walking down the station platform. He began hearing... something. It sounded like radio static. Miles slowed his pace and kept his profile low as he approached. The smell of rot and decay became overwhelming, and he was forced to cover his nose. In the distance, he could barely make out... bodies?
A lot of bodies. Human bodies piled atop each other, strewn about and torn apart in all sorts of terrible ways. Yellow and red blood splattered all over the place. It was a mess. But the noise was getting louder. With a few more steps, the source of the sound came into view, and Miles' heart sank.
There was a soldier on the floor, clad in heavy armor, convulsing violently, with a Headcrab on it's head.
Miles could not pull his eyes away from the sight. A deep fear, one he thought he'd left behind long ago, gripped him, and held him in place. He was reminded of an event from a few years prior. He heard the familiar voices of his parents in his mind.
"...Miles!"
He came to realize the garbled static noise was coming from the soldier. Now, so close, it became much clearer, and he could hear every labored breath. Was it trying to choke back tears? The soldier was still alive, clearly, but unaware.
Miles averted his eyes to the floor. He couldn't bear to look at the soldier any more. It was too much. As he did, he noticed he saw a Headcrab. A dead Headcrab. He turned his eyes and scanned his immediate surroundings. There were many Headcrabs he hadn't spotted before in the mass of death.
Finally, he was able to rip himself away from the soldier. Miles picked up two Headcrabs that hadn't been completely eviscerated, and stuffed them in his backpack. As he turned to leave, however, he stopped. It didn't make sense for there to be a single soldier...
Miles turned back toward the soldier. He saw the faint glint of another soldier's eye-pieces. He'd missed them before, so focused on the convulsing soldier. He set the backpack down, and began to approach slowly, apprehensive and terrified.
Sure enough, there was the rest of the convulsing soldier's squad. What was left of them. There was a pair of legs clearly belonging to a soldier, with everything above the hips annihilated. The other soldiers, one wearing dark blue, and another with a peculiar mask, were both dead, and given the blood on the inside of the lenses, it looks like something exploded nearby and ruptured their internal organs.
He looked back at the two dead soldiers who hadn't been completely annihilated. One carried a large weapon, far too large for a Mobian to ever hope to carry. It was badly damaged, bent in all sorts of places. But the other soldier, that soldier's rifle was still in-tact, and looked just big enough for a Mobian to use. Maybe not Miles himself, he was a little on the short end, but maybe Sonic could...
With bated breath and dilated eyes, Miles approached the dead soldier in dark blue. He stood over the body, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He wanted to reach out for the gun, but something primordial inside him kept him from unfurling his fingers. It was as if he expected the soldier to suddenly awaken and lunge at him.
He closed his eyes, turned his head, and reached for the rifle. When he felt it's cold frame in his grasp, he ripped his hand away and backpedaled. His heart was racing, and his breaths uneven. He looked at the gun, which helped calm him.
He held it by the grip with his right hand. It was a fairly small device, but he had a feeling it might come in handy some time.
Miles began to walk away, but once again stopped standing above the convulsing soldier.
His eyes were becoming glazed over with righteous anger.
His expression turned from that of a cornered kit to a ferocious hunter.
He raised the rifle, holding it in both hands, and took aim at the parasite atop the convulsing soldier's head.
He breathed in...
And...
Click.
The rifle had not gone off.
He looked at the rifle with a puzzled expression, before turning his gaze back at the soldier.
He thought, maybe this was karmic intervention.
'Serves you right...' he taunted the soldier in his mind.
Miles placed the rifle inside the backpack, squeezing it in with the Headcrabs, before pulling it over his shoulders and walking away. He glanced back at the soldier.
He knew this had once been a human being, a person. But he could hardly find the reasoning within himself to refer to the soldier as such. It was more like a weapon, or tool, for the Combine's use. In this way, he felt remorse for the soldier, but at the same time, hatred, for the soldier represented the unrelenting oppression of the Combine.
He turned his eyes back to his feet as he left the scene of the brutal confrontation, into the dark of the Restricted Zone...
Sonic awoke in the morning to the wonderful smell of warm food. He rubbed his head, seemingly having not slept well. He was about to ask himself why, but then his stomach reminded him.
'Right... but I thought...?'
Sonic looked to the mattress to his side, and saw Miles was not there. The puzzle pieces were beginning to click into place, but he could not accept the picture.
He pushed himself off the mattress and lumbered into the hall. He followed the smell, and came to a white, wooden door, numbered 342. He opened it, and stepped inside.
There, basking in the morning light, and butchering a Headcrab atop a counter, was Miles. To his side, the gas cooker, with a pot, steam dancing out of it.
Sonic looked to the backpack at Miles' feet. He noticed a peculiar, dark object sitting up against the backpack. When he identified it as a rifle, his eyes widened.
"Morning." Miles said flatly, without looking back. "I told you I could handle myself."
"...and not a single scratch to show for it." Miles looked back to Sonic now, a prideful smile forming under his baggy, tired eyes.
The sun was rising in City 17...
END, II.
"INOCULATION AND INQUIRY"
NEXT:
III.
"COTERMINOUS"